Planescape 3.5e - Cold Black Mask

[Cage-Rattler]

The leader of the patrol strode forward briskly, his three fellows falling into line behind him. All four were uniformly outfitted in red breastplates bearing a stylized insignia of a sword and shield, and each member carried sturdy wooden batons looped alongside sword-sheaths. Additionally, one of the guardsmen bore a large metal pole with a set of spring-loaded, sharpened jaws -- a mancatcher.

Once the patrol drew close enough for normal conversation it became apparent that the phrase "guardsmen" was somewhat inaccurate, seeing as the lead officer was quite obviously a stern-faced, pug-nosed hobgoblin. His yellow eyes swept over the group before focusing on Anthony.

"Right," the hobgoblin grunted. "What's your business in the Lady's Ward, citizen?"

 

[Dire Lemming]

Anthony gives the officer a respectful nod as he approaches, "I'm just a tout sir, givin' these primes a tour, an helpin them find their friend. See, an this'll be a short story I promise, I was bangin' aroun', lookin' for customers in the Great Bazaar when this Berk fell out of a portal an just as suddenly got scragged by a Barbazu who headed off this way. Next thing I know these primes fell out o' the same door, lookin for a friend. Seems to me like their friend was unlawfully abducted, so it's a good thing we found you cutters. You didn' happen to mark a Barbazu comin' this way did you?"

(OOC: I hope I'm dealing with these guys the right way. I don't really know all that much about Sigil laws. )

 

[Cage-Rattler]

ooc: Anthony's Diplomacy Check 1d20+16; [15,16] = (31)

"A barbazu?" the hobgoblin echoed. Not taking his eyes off Anthony, he called back over his shoulder. "Oi! Tellson! Front and center!"

There was a momentary commotion as one of the other officers -- a younger-looking fellow with a dark complexion -- jogged forward and crashed his fist against his breastplate in salute.

"These bashers," here the hobgoblin gestured toward the group, "say they're looking for a lone barbazu that passed this way. Didn't you mention seeing something like that earlier?"

"Aye sir, that I did, sir," the other confirmed. "Except the fiend wasn't quite alone, sir; he was walking with a prime-looking human. Seemed to me that they were making for the Temple of the Lords of the Nine.

The guardsman paused for a moment. "I was a bit peery about the whole thing, sir -- we don't usually have lesser baatezu just walking past the High Houses all on their lonesome -- but there wasn't anything unlawful going on, so I didn't think to much on it. I figured the human was some high-up spell-slinger, since the fiend seemed to be following his orders."

"There you have it," the hobgoblin cut in. "Nothing unlawful going on, which means it isn't Harmonium business. If you're going to follow your friend to the Temple of the Nine, then do it before I have you arrested for loitering in the Noble's District. Squad! In formation!"

With a few more barked orders, the patrol continued their march down the street, the sound of their boots echoing off the pavment.

 

[Ambrus]

Getting used to the upward-arcing cityscape, Istvan's goggled eyes instinctively begin to trace the curve of the streets ahead while searching for the edifice mentioned by the guardsmen. "So whereabouts is this Temple of the Lords of the Nine?"

 

[Dire Lemming]

"Thanks, we'll be goin." Anthony called after them in a pleasant voice. "Hardheads..." he mutters distastefully once they are out of earshot. "Still not as bad as the sodding Red Death though." He at the others, as if he'd half forgotten them. "Uh, not those bashers, they're with the Harmonium. They arrest berks. The Mercykillers, the Red Death, give em- eh, they kill em. That's about all you need to know, sides, stay away from Mercykillers. Let's go 'fore we get scragged for loiterin'."

Turning to the short prime Anthony answers, "This way." and starts walking again. "Seems like your friend isn't in as much trouble as I thought. Could be far worse."

 

[Blind Azathoth]

"They... kill them?" Cang looks absolutely horrified at Anthony's description of the faction. He hurriedly follows after the aasimar, asking more questions. "Surely not all of them! There is no trial? What if the arrest is wrongful? How do they know the executed is guilty?"

 

[Dire Lemming]

"Well, that's what the third o' the Triad is supposed to do. The Guvners, ahem, The Fraternity of Order," He pauses for dramatic/comedic effect "run the Courts 'ere in The Lady's Ward. An they get to decide what happens to bashers what get scragged by the Hardheads. Then the Red Death get 'em at the prison. They aren't too much for the mercy." As they walk, and talk, Anthony points out various structures and landmarks he's speaking or spoken of.

(OOC: I could use some knowledge (local) about the Sigilian judicial system.)

 

[Cage-Rattler]

Anthony Orchidacaea:[sblock]ooc: Anthony's Knowledge: Sigil check: 1d20+10; [13,10] = (23) Actually, you're pretty spot-on with what you've already said about Law and Order in The Cage; the Harmonium makes the arrests, the Guvners try the cases, and the Mercykillers carry out the punishments.

The system also has a built-in series of checks and balances. The Guvners don't have the power to make the laws, only to "discover" them. The Harmonium can't make arrests on frivolous charges, since the Guvners simply dismiss those cases. And the Mercykiller's can't lay a hand on anyone unless they're officially convicted of a crime.[/sblock]

The aasimar tout helpfully identifies several places of note as the oddly-matched group continues through the ward -- the sprawling Palace of the Jester that Istavan spied earlier from a distance, a below-street-level tavern known as The Twelve Factols, another popular tavern and gambling house named Fortune's Wheel (along with its attached second-story inn, the Azure Iris). Then there were the temples; massive edifices far more ostentatious than anything back home. Temples devoted to Zeus and Hermes of the Olympians, Io the Dragon-god, and Gruumsh of the Orcs all shared the same neighborhood, along with many more besides. It seemed that, if anywhere on any plane could be found a major religion, its corresponding shrine was located here.

Of course, that meant that the Temple of the Lords of the Nine resided here as well, and it this looming structure that the three primes and their planar escorts had sought. The architecture of the massive temple was at once both majestic and intimidating. Climbing the multitude of black basalt steps leading to the temple's entrance was an ordeal in itself, but one couldn't help but appreciate the cold beauty of the main worship hall once they reached the top.

At the far end of the great hall stood a mammoth, masterfully-carved form of a handsome, regal man, his form illuminated by two roaring braziers and a cold sneer of rulership on his lips. The walls to either side of the dominating figure were each lined with four smaller statues, each one an idealized depiction of one of Baator's rulers. A small brass plaque identified the personalities to the faithful: "Bel, Warlord of Avernus; "Dispater, Archduke of Dis"; "Mammon, Viscount of Minauros" and so on.

Despite the temple's wide environs, the worship hall was virtually empty, the only individual in sight a middle-aged, severe-looking woman in rich velvet robes who swept forward as the group made its way into the inner fane.

"Welcome, seekers of strength, to the Temple of the Lords of the Nine." The woman spoke in a rich, unhurried voice. "I am Matron Maegara, and I am at your disposal."

 

[Dire Lemming]

[sblock]Hey, don't lump me with the out-of-towners![/sblock]

As they enter the temple, Anthony begins to rub his nose. He looks at the woman, ignoring the statues and the rest of the room after making certain that no one else is in it, and does his best to seem unperturbed despite the annoying itch in his nose. "A'right cutters, I've brought ya here, ask yer questions, but be polite an canny. Don' sign any contracts 'les you're ready to pay the music." He says the last in a low tone as he steps aside to indicate whom it is that the woman should be speaking to.

 

[Nac Mac Feegle]

Heinrich frowns as he looks around the temple. "I...do not think this is the best place for me to be the one speaking. If it will help us find our friend, then I understand the necessity, but I still do not like it."