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Story Hour
Shemeska's Planescape Storyhour (Updated 29 Jan 2014)
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<blockquote data-quote="Shemeska" data-source="post: 2813332" data-attributes="member: 11697"><p style="text-align: center">***</p><p></p><p></p><p> Alone in his room, Clueless sat on his bed and removed the heavy cloth cover from a spherical object sitting on a stand off to one side.</p><p></p><p>He glanced down at the glassy orb and the shimmering golden liquid within. He’d used it before, on a lark, and ended up realizing that he’d found something of far greater value and utility than perhaps anything else that they had managed to claim from the possessions of one of the former factors of the Incantifers. What it actually was, he still hadn’t a clue.</p><p></p><p> “Well, before when I held some of this in my hands and thought of something, that something happened… time to find out just what exactly I can do with you…”</p><p></p><p>Clueless drew his sword, Razor, and held it out, balanced in the palm of his right hand. His left hand he dipped ever so cautiously into the viscous golden liquid. The syrupy substance was slightly warm to the touch as he collected a few droplets at the end of his fingers and held them out over the blade.</p><p> </p><p>“And powers above, if I end up losing you…” Clueless said. He shuddered at the thought. Given the close association of a bladesinger with their sword, it would be like a wizard losing a familiar if he accidentally destroyed it.</p><p></p><p>Vaguely pondering the general concept of a more powerful sword, Clueless dropped a single glimmering drop onto the sword’s blade and watched as they flashed and vanished on impact, seemingly drawn into the sword like water on a sponge.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, no explosion. This is good…” He said as he exhaled with relief.</p><p> </p><p>The normal pallor of the blade’s Baatorian green steel was changing as the droplets of liquid magic spread in tiny ripples across the surface and penetrated into every inch of the metal. Where it had previously been a mirror-bright, metallic green, it was now tinged with flecks of gold.</p><p> </p><p>Clueless raised an eyebrow as he felt a subtle change in the way the sword felt in his hands. He couldn’t put the feeling into words. It was simply something that he knew, and something that perhaps only another bladesinger might fully understand. And, as strange as it might seem, Razor seemed… happy… as he cradled the softly glowing sword in the palm of his one hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if it was good enough to experiment on you, I can’t rightly say that I shouldn’t be a little adventurous myself…” The half-fey had a mischievous grin on his face as he looked at his other hand and the small number of droplets of the gleaming liquid he still had in his palm.</p><p></p><p>“Besides,” He said. “My girlfriend would probably say I was the better for having tried out something new. All about the experience, or so they say.”</p><p></p><p> He paused and the golden liquid in his hand rippled.</p><p></p><p> “Speaking of which…” He said, putting the liquid back into the orb. “I think I could use the help for this. And the supervision in case I kill myself by accident.”</p><p></p><p> Twenty minutes and a ‘whispering wind’ spell later, there was a knock on the door and Clueless answered it.</p><p></p><p> “So what was this about?” Tarelia asked, a little flicker of flame dancing in the Firre’s eyes.</p><p></p><p> The Eladrin stepped into the room and glanced over at the orb of golden liquid.</p><p></p><p> “I’ve mentioned this before, right?” Clueless asked, motioning towards the orb.</p><p></p><p> The Sensate nodded and glanced at the bladesinger’s sword.</p><p></p><p> “Your sword looks different.” She said.</p><p></p><p> “That.” She continued, pointing to the orb.</p><p></p><p> “Did that?” She said, pointing to Razor.</p><p></p><p> Clueless nodded.</p><p></p><p> “One drop did that actually.” He answered.</p><p></p><p> The Eladrin’s eyes went wide. </p><p></p><p>“And you actually want to try it on yourself?” She asked. “On the tattoo on your back?”</p><p></p><p> Clueless nodded and gave a guilty grin. “Yeah.”</p><p></p><p> “Let’s go for it then.” Tarelia replied. “Let’s see what happens.”</p><p></p><p> So much for Nisha being the most carefree person that Clueless knew.</p><p></p><p>The bladesinger nodded and sat down on his bed, moving the liquid filled globe to a more easily accessible position and making room for Tarelia to sit down next to him. </p><p></p><p> “You sure about this?” She asked as she delicately undid his shirt, exposing the tattoos that sprawled across his shoulders and back. </p><p></p><p> “Yeah.” He replied, turning to kiss her. “I think so. Just a few drops though, and do them one at a time in case something bad happens.”</p><p></p><p>She nodded as he took a deep breath and glanced at his reflection in a mirror while she held out a few droplets over the magical tattoos.</p><p></p><p>“I’m crazy for doing this, but what the hell…” He said. “Go for it.”</p><p></p><p> She let a single heavy, syrupy droplet roll across her palm to dangle in the air and shimmer for a moment before letting to drop onto Clueless’ back.</p><p> </p><p>The liquid was absorbed the instant that it touched his skin, releasing a tingling shock that penetrated deeply into the muscles of his back. Clueless winced slightly at the obscenely strange feelings as he felt…something…occur, but he couldn’t tell exactly what. Several minutes passed and the sensations faded down into a warm glow that spread throughout his body.</p><p></p><p> “Well I haven’t blown up, that’s good.” He said with an amused and thankful giggle. </p><p></p><p> “Feeling alright?” Tarelia asked, rubbing his right shoulder with a free hand.</p><p></p><p> “Yeah, I think so.” He said. “Go ahead and use a few more drops.”</p><p></p><p> “I can’t.” She replied. “I already used them all the first time.”</p><p></p><p> Then, almost like a delayed reaction, that was when it hit him.</p><p></p><p>Clueless giggled, feeling far too happy. </p><p></p><p>“Really?” He asked. “How many drops?”</p><p></p><p>“Three or four?” Tarelia answered. “Something like that?”</p><p></p><p>Whatever it was, it hadn’t killed him or harmed him, but either from the fact that it hadn’t, or something intrinsic to the substance itself, Clueless was higher than an air mephit sucked into a hookah…</p><p></p><p> “What’s it feel like?” She prompted in true Sensate fashion.</p><p></p><p> Clueless giggled again as the warm, heady feeling continued to envelop him, and he tried to explain it. Once he’d described it as best he could, the two of them began to kiss and she began to gently touch portions of the tattoo on his back, asking him to describe how it felt.</p><p></p><p> Things went on from there, and some time later she was rocking back and forth atop of him, both of them fully naked, lost in a mental haze of entirely different origins. After they’d f*cked several times, they lay nestled against one another in bed, with Clueless rambling and still giggling to himself as the magically addled mental state of his only seemed to be slowly making any sort of decrease.</p><p></p><p> Tarelia made certain to linger around next to her lover long enough to make certain that he was safe from any lingering affects of the liquid that she had dribbled onto his back. Once she was certain that he was, she kissed him, dressed herself and left, apparently quite eager to return home and record the experience for posterity, and quite possibly experience it again by virtue of a sensory stone.</p><p></p><p> When, two hours later, Clueless regained some measure of lucidity, he put his shirt back on and muttered with a bit of a giggle to himself that he should probably go tend to the bar down in the common room. That was the idea at least, and about ten minutes after that realization he blinked and stopped staring blankly at the wall with a goofy, crooked smile on his face. Truth be told, he was giddy, high from the heavy magic, and wrapped in a blissful haze that was fogging his mind more thickly than the Great Foundry’s smoke shrouded the Lower Ward.</p><p></p><p> “Yeah I should go handle the bar…” Clueless said, glancing out the window and looking at the rough hour of the day.</p><p></p><p> “…handle the bar…” He said slowly before giggling again and thinking back to his favorite Sensate.</p><p></p><p> “It’s been a good day…”</p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">***</p><p></p><p></p><p> Down in the common room, Florian, Fyrehowl, Tristol, and Toras were sitting together at a table and gabbing over mugs of ale. Kiro was sitting across from them, occasionally helping out the staff and clearing off tables if they looked like they needed the help. Nisha was off somewhere, possibly with Amberblue, an issue that they all tried to ignore just because if they did think about it, they’d worry about it.</p><p></p><p>Conversation hadn’t really stayed on anything specific, though there had been some chuckles earlier on when they had watched Clueless’ girlfriend descend down the stairs from where she had presumably been with the bladesinger. She’d been giggling softly when she’d left the inn. Clueless and a giggling Sensate… the boy had apparently done something well.</p><p></p><p> They’d rambled at random over the next while before Clueless himself walked down the stairs and back to behind the bar. He was grinning. He was grinning way too much, with a sort of weird, drugged out haze, and his wings were glittering with a flickering dance of wild colors, like a sheen of oil on top of a puddle of water. Of course, outside of some initial commentary on the color of his wings, they all just assumed that he’d had a very good and exhausting time with a Sensate and didn’t give it much of a second thought.</p><p></p><p> “I still can’t get over those nutcases that Nisha knows.” Florian said, sipping at her drink and turning away from looking at Clueless gradually regaining some measure of giddy lucidity.</p><p></p><p> “Nisha –is- one of those nutcases.” Tristol replied.</p><p></p><p> For her part, Nisha just grinned happily.</p><p></p><p> “Alright, true.” Florian replied. “And hey… where you going Fyrehowl?”</p><p></p><p> The cipher had suddenly and abruptly stood up and made her way towards the door leading into the kitchen, and beyond it, the rear door to the inn.</p><p></p><p> “Uh…” She said, thinking for a moment as her hand touched the door. “I just remembered that I uh, had to go to the Gymnasium today to meditate. Like right now. Be back later.”</p><p></p><p> And without giving any time to listen to any more questions, Fyrehowl opened the door and was gone.</p><p></p><p> “Well,” Florian said. “That was weird. I wonder what got into her…”</p><p></p><p> Tristol’s eyes all of a sudden went wide.</p><p></p><p> “Cipher.” He said bluntly.</p><p></p><p> “And?” Florian asked.</p><p></p><p> “Cipher leaving all of a sudden without any obvious reason.” Tristol explained, his ears flattening slightly.</p><p></p><p> Florian’s face twitched in recognition as a shadow passed over the light streaming into the inn from the front door.</p><p></p><p> “Oh hells!” Toras said, looking up at the figure standing in the doorway.</p><p></p><p> The backlit silhouette in the doorway had a pair of erect canine ears and a coil of tangled vines perched between them.</p><p></p><p> Florian pushed her chair back and made for the stairs.</p><p></p><p> “What’s your excuse?!” Clueless called from the bar. “Don’t leave me here alone!”</p><p></p><p> The half-fey glanced over at the door with an odd mixture of loathing and resignation, topped off with a giggle.</p><p></p><p> “Tempus calls!” Florian said before holding up a finger, licking it and brandishing it towards the looming fiend as if testing the air. “I detect an overwhelming aura of BULLSH*T!”</p><p></p><p> Toras was gone a moment later, bolting for the back door with a sputtered cry of “Hark! The sound of someone in trouble!”</p><p></p><p> Kiro looked up towards the King of the Crosstrade, shrugged, and looked back at Tristol.</p><p></p><p> “Who’s she?” The cleric asked.</p><p></p><p> Tristol’s ears were flat as he looked up from his drink at the cleric’s question and realized he had no easy excuse to simply cut and run, and a teleport would have been far too obvious and insulting. He whined and his tail curled around the leg of his chair, while up at the bar Clueless looked like a deer caught exposed in a hunter’s lamplight.</p><p></p><p> The bladesinger sighed as circumstance did its best to put a damper on his magically elated mood, and then glanced around at his vanishing companions as the ‘loth sauntered into the room with her typical collection of tieflings.</p><p></p><p> “Oh son of a…” He muttered. “Why me?”</p><p></p><p> A pair of the King of the Crosstrade’s tieflings took up position flanking the front door, and two others, one of them familiar to Clueless’ eyes, carried a small mirror and a comb, the other with a very obviously displayed short sword, proceeded to evict the customers at the two tables nearest to where the fiend was going.</p><p></p><p> The door to the kitchen opened and Nisha walked out whistling a merry and made up on the spot tune. The Xaositect took one look at the Marauder, then to Tristol who was emphatically tilting his head in the ‘loth’s direction. Nisha’s lips pursed, the whistling stopped for a moment, and without any further ado she spun on one hoof and walked right back to where she’d come from.</p><p></p><p>“I imagine the presence of someone who exists to make your life miserable!” The Factol Darius Doll said from under her bell jar on the mantelpiece a few feet away from Clueless.</p><p></p><p> The bladesinger glanced over at Kiro and Tristol. The mage was decidedly looking the other way, trying to blissfully ignore the fiend; he hadn’t exactly had a good experience in meeting her the last several times that they had occasion to do so.</p><p></p><p> “Oh you’re no help…” Clueless muttered.</p><p></p><p> Kiro shrugged, stood up and walked over to clear away and tidy up the tables claimed by two of the Marauder’s groomer-guards and the table that she herself was standing next to, eyeing with a bit of disdain. The cleric had never met her before, and neither had she ever met him, nor did she have any hint of recognition in her eyes when he started to clean the table.</p><p></p><p> “Thank you for the help Kiro.” Clueless said to himself, and up in thanks towards the ceiling, up towards whatever gods might be listening, metaphorically speaking.</p><p></p><p> Meanwhile, as the bladesinger geared himself up to handling the Marauder, the ‘loth was being seated in as pretentious a way possible. One of her tieflings, Colcook, the one with mirror and comb, was pulling her chair out for her, sweeping it off with a brush, then letting her sit down, and finally pushing her in and up to the table.</p><p></p><p> There was an emphatic tip-tapping of claws on wood as Clueless walked up to Shemeska’s table.</p><p></p><p> The Marauder was dressed in her favorite gown, the blue-green dress of tens of thousands of tiny glass beads all strung upon thread and woven into something fairly flattering to her figure, and at the moment it wasn’t so mind numbingly tight as to appear painted on, as she had appeared at Jeremo’s party, putting herself on public display more or less. No, at the moment she actually appeared tastefully dressed, as tastefully dressed as a yugoloth of her status might be capable of at least.</p><p></p><p> She was fiddling with the coil of razorvine atop her head as the bladesinger approached. She was also giving him a vague smile. Something was up. Something had to be up.</p><p></p><p> “Can I get you something to drink?” Clueless asked hesitantly, but slathered in horribly put on politeness, made more possible by being quite high at the time. “Maybe something to eat as well?”</p><p></p><p> It was amazing just how much a fiend can look down on you while looking up at you, so to speak, but the King of the Crosstrade did just that as she spouted off an answer without glancing at the drink list or the food menu.</p><p></p><p> “I’ll have a Marauder’s Mirth.” She cooed. “And unless you happen to have pickled Bebelith eggs, I’m not too terribly hungry. Besides, I really doubt that you carry the food that I’m accustomed to.”</p><p></p><p> “We might, or we might be able to quickly get it for you.” Clueless suggested.</p><p></p><p> “Or you call them customers.” She added as an afterthought, more to herself with a slight toss of her hair, but just audible enough for him to hear.</p><p></p><p> Clueless ignored the statement just as much as he ignored the display of cleavage staring up at him from the ‘loth’s chest.</p><p></p><p> “What’s in a Marauder’s Mirth?” He asked cautiously.</p><p></p><p> “THE Marauder’s Mirth.” She corrected him, punctuated with a tap of a claw on and into the table.</p><p></p><p> “It’s my favorite drink.” She explained. “The Fortune’s Wheel coined it after me and I expect that most of the upper tier inns and taverns in Sigil carry it.”</p><p></p><p>“And then there was a complete non sequitur from the ‘loth, with a sudden, almost barked demand of: Colcook! Mirror!”</p><p></p><p> Clueless just stood there patiently as she ignored him in favor of her own reflection in a small handheld mirror held up in place by the tiefling to her left. She pursed her lips as with a telepathic prompt, Colcook applied a new layer of black lipstick and then promptly started to comb out the long, coppery-blond hair she had at the moment.</p><p></p><p> And then, without any acknowledgement of the pause, she jumped back to the prior conversation.</p><p></p><p> “Don’t know my favorite drink…” She said with a bit of a sneer. “A pity really. I’d been led to believe that you were to be numbered among them… the best inns in Sigil that is.”</p><p></p><p> “We might be able to make one for you, but… and my apologies, I’m not familiar with the ingredients.” Clueless said, trying so hard to sound genuine.</p><p></p><p> “I bet the 12 Factols would have known what goes in it…” Shemeska muttered to herself.</p><p></p><p> Clueless ignored the statement.</p><p></p><p>“And even if I can’t make one for you now,” He said. “This way we’ll know in the future to have what’s needed. Just for you.”</p><p></p><p> She smiled up at him and batted her eyelashes. “Admittedly, this –is- an unannounced visit, and it’s not a formal thing to actually judge the place on. I’ll be making that visit eventually, but you’ll have advance warning of that.”</p><p></p><p> ‘Peachy.’ He thought. ‘Just peachy…’</p><p></p><p> Colcook meanwhile continued to brush out his mistress’s hair, which she might have actually lengthened during the process, just to give him more to do.</p><p></p><p>“But, in any event,” She purred. “My favorite drink is a mixture of four fingers of Bytopian Brandy, honey, puréed dretch pineal gland, two fingers of Styx water, with a sprig of razorvine and some gold leaf floating on the top.”</p><p></p><p> Clueless raised an eyebrow and wrote the ingredients down.</p><p></p><p>“The fo… the customers you have here in the Clerk’s Ward probably can’t appreciate the drink.” She added. “A pity really.”</p><p></p><p> “I’m not really certain that we can make this at the moment.” Clueless said.</p><p></p><p>“It really does take a special person to appreciate the drink. Especially the Styx water. Don’t you agree?” She asked, looking directly into Clueless’ eyes, without a drop of shame in the statement.</p><p></p><p> If he hadn’t been high on heavy magic in his bloodstream, he’d have considered spitting in her face.</p><p></p><p> ‘Bitch…’ He inwardly thought as he put on a smile to her statement.</p><p></p><p> “Would you like something else to drink?”</p><p></p><p> “Your fiendish majesty.” She said.</p><p></p><p> “Hmm?” Clueless asked, confused.</p><p></p><p> “Would you like something else to drink your fiendish majesty.” She said, correcting him, extending the claw on a finger and motioning for him to restate the question properly.</p><p></p><p> ‘I hate you. You disgust me. I want to kill you here and now.’ He wanted to say, but he didn’t.</p><p></p><p> “Would you like something else to drink your fiendish majesty?” Clueless asked, much to the fiend’s delight.</p><p></p><p> “Just a glass of something Baatorian.” She answered. “Surprise me.”</p><p></p><p> “As the King wishes.” Clueless said before turning and walking back to the bar.</p><p></p><p> ‘Something Baatorian?’ He thought. ‘Sure, lemme go find an imp to piss in a goblet. That’ll work.’</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, Kiro glanced over at the fiend as he sat down next to where Tristol was trying to get himself lost in the bottom of a drink.</p><p></p><p> “Who exactly is that women?” Kiro asked. “She’s a pain in the ass.”</p><p></p><p> Tristol looked up at him.</p><p></p><p> “Not so loud please…” He said, ears still folded back and to the side. “She’ll pitch a temper tantrum, and I really don’t want to clean up the room after she sets it, and possibly some people, on fire in the process.”</p><p></p><p> “And no one actually does anything about her?” Kiro asked with a bit of incredulity. “You just let her get away with it?”</p><p></p><p> “It’s complicated.” Tristol replied. “But yeah, we just let her get away with it most of the time.”</p><p></p><p>That however, was when Tristol’s eyes moved over to look at the Marauder. The fiend was doing something with a hand under the table.</p><p></p><p> “Hold on a second…” Tristol said, whispering the words of a ‘detect magic’ spell.</p><p></p><p> The Marauder lit up like a booze-covered Hiver given a hug by a fire elemental, but that was to be expected. Over by the bar, Clueless was sparkling with a wild snarl of random magical auras, something to ask him about later. But no, what drew Tristol’s attention was that the underside of Shemeska’s table was glittering with a mixture of universal and divination auras.</p><p></p><p> “Cute…” Tristol muttered. “We’ll have to sand the table down now.”</p><p></p><p> “Oh?” Kiro asked.</p><p></p><p> The ‘random’ tapping of claws by the ‘loth on the table had never been random. For most of her stay, which had already been far, far too long for anyone’s comfort level, she’d been drawing the lines of some sort of divination focus onto the underside of the table, along with a bit of self promoting graffiti on the top.</p><p></p><p> “I’ll have to tell Clueless about that later.” Tristol said with a sigh.</p><p></p><p> Clueless had, by that point, done his best to abandon the Marauder. He’d taken her order, mixed her drink, and given it to a random member of the serving staff to hand off in his stead. He’d busied himself with other customers, and hoped that the ‘loth would grow bored without him to torment, and eventually leave. Wishful thinking.</p><p></p><p> “That’s Shemeska the Marauder,” Tristol explained to the cleric next to him. “Aka the King of the Crosstrade. She’s a gossipmonger on the surface, she owns a little under a third of the land in Sigil, and she likely has a hand in half of the illicit goings on in the Cage at any point in time. And she revels in that little worst kept secret in the city as to what she actually is and how much influence she actually has.”</p><p></p><p>“Do people not realize just how full of bullsh*t she is?” Kiro asked Tristol.</p><p></p><p> “No.” The aasimar replied, lowering his voice. “Everyone knows full well.”</p><p></p><p> “She doesn’t know me from anyone else.” Kiro said. “I could, you know, -accidentally- walk past and drop a bucket of dishwater on her when I clear one of the other tables.”</p><p></p><p> “She’d be liable to kill you.” Tristol said.</p><p></p><p> ‘She’s welcome to try’ was very nearly out of Kiro’s mouth, but he wasn’t honestly planning to do anything of the sort, not at the moment, not with Jermorille standing next to her and brushing out her hair. The Exile didn’t have a clue, and his presence in Sigil was somewhere between actual exile, being in a place where he couldn’t do too much damage, and just being a useful idiot from time to time.</p><p></p><p> “Then never mind that.” Kiro said. “That’s a bit harsh…”</p><p></p><p> Back over at the bar, Clueless was being beckoned to by the Marauder again.</p><p></p><p> “Oh hells…” He muttered for the second time in under an hour. By the end of the night he might have more of them than Baator’s nine if things didn’t improve.</p><p></p><p> The ‘loth was sipping approvingly at her drink. At least that had seemed to be the cause for her look of approval, the drink. Or not…</p><p></p><p> “F*ck…” Clueless whispered.</p><p></p><p>The Marauder had both hands on the table, and was leaning down and looking into the eyes of the Shemeska doll that they’d purchased from A’kin’s auction.</p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">***</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Shemeska, post: 2813332, member: 11697"] [center]***[/center] Alone in his room, Clueless sat on his bed and removed the heavy cloth cover from a spherical object sitting on a stand off to one side. He glanced down at the glassy orb and the shimmering golden liquid within. He’d used it before, on a lark, and ended up realizing that he’d found something of far greater value and utility than perhaps anything else that they had managed to claim from the possessions of one of the former factors of the Incantifers. What it actually was, he still hadn’t a clue. “Well, before when I held some of this in my hands and thought of something, that something happened… time to find out just what exactly I can do with you…” Clueless drew his sword, Razor, and held it out, balanced in the palm of his right hand. His left hand he dipped ever so cautiously into the viscous golden liquid. The syrupy substance was slightly warm to the touch as he collected a few droplets at the end of his fingers and held them out over the blade. “And powers above, if I end up losing you…” Clueless said. He shuddered at the thought. Given the close association of a bladesinger with their sword, it would be like a wizard losing a familiar if he accidentally destroyed it. Vaguely pondering the general concept of a more powerful sword, Clueless dropped a single glimmering drop onto the sword’s blade and watched as they flashed and vanished on impact, seemingly drawn into the sword like water on a sponge. “Alright, no explosion. This is good…” He said as he exhaled with relief. The normal pallor of the blade’s Baatorian green steel was changing as the droplets of liquid magic spread in tiny ripples across the surface and penetrated into every inch of the metal. Where it had previously been a mirror-bright, metallic green, it was now tinged with flecks of gold. Clueless raised an eyebrow as he felt a subtle change in the way the sword felt in his hands. He couldn’t put the feeling into words. It was simply something that he knew, and something that perhaps only another bladesinger might fully understand. And, as strange as it might seem, Razor seemed… happy… as he cradled the softly glowing sword in the palm of his one hand. “Well, if it was good enough to experiment on you, I can’t rightly say that I shouldn’t be a little adventurous myself…” The half-fey had a mischievous grin on his face as he looked at his other hand and the small number of droplets of the gleaming liquid he still had in his palm. “Besides,” He said. “My girlfriend would probably say I was the better for having tried out something new. All about the experience, or so they say.” He paused and the golden liquid in his hand rippled. “Speaking of which…” He said, putting the liquid back into the orb. “I think I could use the help for this. And the supervision in case I kill myself by accident.” Twenty minutes and a ‘whispering wind’ spell later, there was a knock on the door and Clueless answered it. “So what was this about?” Tarelia asked, a little flicker of flame dancing in the Firre’s eyes. The Eladrin stepped into the room and glanced over at the orb of golden liquid. “I’ve mentioned this before, right?” Clueless asked, motioning towards the orb. The Sensate nodded and glanced at the bladesinger’s sword. “Your sword looks different.” She said. “That.” She continued, pointing to the orb. “Did that?” She said, pointing to Razor. Clueless nodded. “One drop did that actually.” He answered. The Eladrin’s eyes went wide. “And you actually want to try it on yourself?” She asked. “On the tattoo on your back?” Clueless nodded and gave a guilty grin. “Yeah.” “Let’s go for it then.” Tarelia replied. “Let’s see what happens.” So much for Nisha being the most carefree person that Clueless knew. The bladesinger nodded and sat down on his bed, moving the liquid filled globe to a more easily accessible position and making room for Tarelia to sit down next to him. “You sure about this?” She asked as she delicately undid his shirt, exposing the tattoos that sprawled across his shoulders and back. “Yeah.” He replied, turning to kiss her. “I think so. Just a few drops though, and do them one at a time in case something bad happens.” She nodded as he took a deep breath and glanced at his reflection in a mirror while she held out a few droplets over the magical tattoos. “I’m crazy for doing this, but what the hell…” He said. “Go for it.” She let a single heavy, syrupy droplet roll across her palm to dangle in the air and shimmer for a moment before letting to drop onto Clueless’ back. The liquid was absorbed the instant that it touched his skin, releasing a tingling shock that penetrated deeply into the muscles of his back. Clueless winced slightly at the obscenely strange feelings as he felt…something…occur, but he couldn’t tell exactly what. Several minutes passed and the sensations faded down into a warm glow that spread throughout his body. “Well I haven’t blown up, that’s good.” He said with an amused and thankful giggle. “Feeling alright?” Tarelia asked, rubbing his right shoulder with a free hand. “Yeah, I think so.” He said. “Go ahead and use a few more drops.” “I can’t.” She replied. “I already used them all the first time.” Then, almost like a delayed reaction, that was when it hit him. Clueless giggled, feeling far too happy. “Really?” He asked. “How many drops?” “Three or four?” Tarelia answered. “Something like that?” Whatever it was, it hadn’t killed him or harmed him, but either from the fact that it hadn’t, or something intrinsic to the substance itself, Clueless was higher than an air mephit sucked into a hookah… “What’s it feel like?” She prompted in true Sensate fashion. Clueless giggled again as the warm, heady feeling continued to envelop him, and he tried to explain it. Once he’d described it as best he could, the two of them began to kiss and she began to gently touch portions of the tattoo on his back, asking him to describe how it felt. Things went on from there, and some time later she was rocking back and forth atop of him, both of them fully naked, lost in a mental haze of entirely different origins. After they’d f*cked several times, they lay nestled against one another in bed, with Clueless rambling and still giggling to himself as the magically addled mental state of his only seemed to be slowly making any sort of decrease. Tarelia made certain to linger around next to her lover long enough to make certain that he was safe from any lingering affects of the liquid that she had dribbled onto his back. Once she was certain that he was, she kissed him, dressed herself and left, apparently quite eager to return home and record the experience for posterity, and quite possibly experience it again by virtue of a sensory stone. When, two hours later, Clueless regained some measure of lucidity, he put his shirt back on and muttered with a bit of a giggle to himself that he should probably go tend to the bar down in the common room. That was the idea at least, and about ten minutes after that realization he blinked and stopped staring blankly at the wall with a goofy, crooked smile on his face. Truth be told, he was giddy, high from the heavy magic, and wrapped in a blissful haze that was fogging his mind more thickly than the Great Foundry’s smoke shrouded the Lower Ward. “Yeah I should go handle the bar…” Clueless said, glancing out the window and looking at the rough hour of the day. “…handle the bar…” He said slowly before giggling again and thinking back to his favorite Sensate. “It’s been a good day…” [center]***[/center] Down in the common room, Florian, Fyrehowl, Tristol, and Toras were sitting together at a table and gabbing over mugs of ale. Kiro was sitting across from them, occasionally helping out the staff and clearing off tables if they looked like they needed the help. Nisha was off somewhere, possibly with Amberblue, an issue that they all tried to ignore just because if they did think about it, they’d worry about it. Conversation hadn’t really stayed on anything specific, though there had been some chuckles earlier on when they had watched Clueless’ girlfriend descend down the stairs from where she had presumably been with the bladesinger. She’d been giggling softly when she’d left the inn. Clueless and a giggling Sensate… the boy had apparently done something well. They’d rambled at random over the next while before Clueless himself walked down the stairs and back to behind the bar. He was grinning. He was grinning way too much, with a sort of weird, drugged out haze, and his wings were glittering with a flickering dance of wild colors, like a sheen of oil on top of a puddle of water. Of course, outside of some initial commentary on the color of his wings, they all just assumed that he’d had a very good and exhausting time with a Sensate and didn’t give it much of a second thought. “I still can’t get over those nutcases that Nisha knows.” Florian said, sipping at her drink and turning away from looking at Clueless gradually regaining some measure of giddy lucidity. “Nisha –is- one of those nutcases.” Tristol replied. For her part, Nisha just grinned happily. “Alright, true.” Florian replied. “And hey… where you going Fyrehowl?” The cipher had suddenly and abruptly stood up and made her way towards the door leading into the kitchen, and beyond it, the rear door to the inn. “Uh…” She said, thinking for a moment as her hand touched the door. “I just remembered that I uh, had to go to the Gymnasium today to meditate. Like right now. Be back later.” And without giving any time to listen to any more questions, Fyrehowl opened the door and was gone. “Well,” Florian said. “That was weird. I wonder what got into her…” Tristol’s eyes all of a sudden went wide. “Cipher.” He said bluntly. “And?” Florian asked. “Cipher leaving all of a sudden without any obvious reason.” Tristol explained, his ears flattening slightly. Florian’s face twitched in recognition as a shadow passed over the light streaming into the inn from the front door. “Oh hells!” Toras said, looking up at the figure standing in the doorway. The backlit silhouette in the doorway had a pair of erect canine ears and a coil of tangled vines perched between them. Florian pushed her chair back and made for the stairs. “What’s your excuse?!” Clueless called from the bar. “Don’t leave me here alone!” The half-fey glanced over at the door with an odd mixture of loathing and resignation, topped off with a giggle. “Tempus calls!” Florian said before holding up a finger, licking it and brandishing it towards the looming fiend as if testing the air. “I detect an overwhelming aura of BULLSH*T!” Toras was gone a moment later, bolting for the back door with a sputtered cry of “Hark! The sound of someone in trouble!” Kiro looked up towards the King of the Crosstrade, shrugged, and looked back at Tristol. “Who’s she?” The cleric asked. Tristol’s ears were flat as he looked up from his drink at the cleric’s question and realized he had no easy excuse to simply cut and run, and a teleport would have been far too obvious and insulting. He whined and his tail curled around the leg of his chair, while up at the bar Clueless looked like a deer caught exposed in a hunter’s lamplight. The bladesinger sighed as circumstance did its best to put a damper on his magically elated mood, and then glanced around at his vanishing companions as the ‘loth sauntered into the room with her typical collection of tieflings. “Oh son of a…” He muttered. “Why me?” A pair of the King of the Crosstrade’s tieflings took up position flanking the front door, and two others, one of them familiar to Clueless’ eyes, carried a small mirror and a comb, the other with a very obviously displayed short sword, proceeded to evict the customers at the two tables nearest to where the fiend was going. The door to the kitchen opened and Nisha walked out whistling a merry and made up on the spot tune. The Xaositect took one look at the Marauder, then to Tristol who was emphatically tilting his head in the ‘loth’s direction. Nisha’s lips pursed, the whistling stopped for a moment, and without any further ado she spun on one hoof and walked right back to where she’d come from. “I imagine the presence of someone who exists to make your life miserable!” The Factol Darius Doll said from under her bell jar on the mantelpiece a few feet away from Clueless. The bladesinger glanced over at Kiro and Tristol. The mage was decidedly looking the other way, trying to blissfully ignore the fiend; he hadn’t exactly had a good experience in meeting her the last several times that they had occasion to do so. “Oh you’re no help…” Clueless muttered. Kiro shrugged, stood up and walked over to clear away and tidy up the tables claimed by two of the Marauder’s groomer-guards and the table that she herself was standing next to, eyeing with a bit of disdain. The cleric had never met her before, and neither had she ever met him, nor did she have any hint of recognition in her eyes when he started to clean the table. “Thank you for the help Kiro.” Clueless said to himself, and up in thanks towards the ceiling, up towards whatever gods might be listening, metaphorically speaking. Meanwhile, as the bladesinger geared himself up to handling the Marauder, the ‘loth was being seated in as pretentious a way possible. One of her tieflings, Colcook, the one with mirror and comb, was pulling her chair out for her, sweeping it off with a brush, then letting her sit down, and finally pushing her in and up to the table. There was an emphatic tip-tapping of claws on wood as Clueless walked up to Shemeska’s table. The Marauder was dressed in her favorite gown, the blue-green dress of tens of thousands of tiny glass beads all strung upon thread and woven into something fairly flattering to her figure, and at the moment it wasn’t so mind numbingly tight as to appear painted on, as she had appeared at Jeremo’s party, putting herself on public display more or less. No, at the moment she actually appeared tastefully dressed, as tastefully dressed as a yugoloth of her status might be capable of at least. She was fiddling with the coil of razorvine atop her head as the bladesinger approached. She was also giving him a vague smile. Something was up. Something had to be up. “Can I get you something to drink?” Clueless asked hesitantly, but slathered in horribly put on politeness, made more possible by being quite high at the time. “Maybe something to eat as well?” It was amazing just how much a fiend can look down on you while looking up at you, so to speak, but the King of the Crosstrade did just that as she spouted off an answer without glancing at the drink list or the food menu. “I’ll have a Marauder’s Mirth.” She cooed. “And unless you happen to have pickled Bebelith eggs, I’m not too terribly hungry. Besides, I really doubt that you carry the food that I’m accustomed to.” “We might, or we might be able to quickly get it for you.” Clueless suggested. “Or you call them customers.” She added as an afterthought, more to herself with a slight toss of her hair, but just audible enough for him to hear. Clueless ignored the statement just as much as he ignored the display of cleavage staring up at him from the ‘loth’s chest. “What’s in a Marauder’s Mirth?” He asked cautiously. “THE Marauder’s Mirth.” She corrected him, punctuated with a tap of a claw on and into the table. “It’s my favorite drink.” She explained. “The Fortune’s Wheel coined it after me and I expect that most of the upper tier inns and taverns in Sigil carry it.” “And then there was a complete non sequitur from the ‘loth, with a sudden, almost barked demand of: Colcook! Mirror!” Clueless just stood there patiently as she ignored him in favor of her own reflection in a small handheld mirror held up in place by the tiefling to her left. She pursed her lips as with a telepathic prompt, Colcook applied a new layer of black lipstick and then promptly started to comb out the long, coppery-blond hair she had at the moment. And then, without any acknowledgement of the pause, she jumped back to the prior conversation. “Don’t know my favorite drink…” She said with a bit of a sneer. “A pity really. I’d been led to believe that you were to be numbered among them… the best inns in Sigil that is.” “We might be able to make one for you, but… and my apologies, I’m not familiar with the ingredients.” Clueless said, trying so hard to sound genuine. “I bet the 12 Factols would have known what goes in it…” Shemeska muttered to herself. Clueless ignored the statement. “And even if I can’t make one for you now,” He said. “This way we’ll know in the future to have what’s needed. Just for you.” She smiled up at him and batted her eyelashes. “Admittedly, this –is- an unannounced visit, and it’s not a formal thing to actually judge the place on. I’ll be making that visit eventually, but you’ll have advance warning of that.” ‘Peachy.’ He thought. ‘Just peachy…’ Colcook meanwhile continued to brush out his mistress’s hair, which she might have actually lengthened during the process, just to give him more to do. “But, in any event,” She purred. “My favorite drink is a mixture of four fingers of Bytopian Brandy, honey, puréed dretch pineal gland, two fingers of Styx water, with a sprig of razorvine and some gold leaf floating on the top.” Clueless raised an eyebrow and wrote the ingredients down. “The fo… the customers you have here in the Clerk’s Ward probably can’t appreciate the drink.” She added. “A pity really.” “I’m not really certain that we can make this at the moment.” Clueless said. “It really does take a special person to appreciate the drink. Especially the Styx water. Don’t you agree?” She asked, looking directly into Clueless’ eyes, without a drop of shame in the statement. If he hadn’t been high on heavy magic in his bloodstream, he’d have considered spitting in her face. ‘Bitch…’ He inwardly thought as he put on a smile to her statement. “Would you like something else to drink?” “Your fiendish majesty.” She said. “Hmm?” Clueless asked, confused. “Would you like something else to drink your fiendish majesty.” She said, correcting him, extending the claw on a finger and motioning for him to restate the question properly. ‘I hate you. You disgust me. I want to kill you here and now.’ He wanted to say, but he didn’t. “Would you like something else to drink your fiendish majesty?” Clueless asked, much to the fiend’s delight. “Just a glass of something Baatorian.” She answered. “Surprise me.” “As the King wishes.” Clueless said before turning and walking back to the bar. ‘Something Baatorian?’ He thought. ‘Sure, lemme go find an imp to piss in a goblet. That’ll work.’ Meanwhile, Kiro glanced over at the fiend as he sat down next to where Tristol was trying to get himself lost in the bottom of a drink. “Who exactly is that women?” Kiro asked. “She’s a pain in the ass.” Tristol looked up at him. “Not so loud please…” He said, ears still folded back and to the side. “She’ll pitch a temper tantrum, and I really don’t want to clean up the room after she sets it, and possibly some people, on fire in the process.” “And no one actually does anything about her?” Kiro asked with a bit of incredulity. “You just let her get away with it?” “It’s complicated.” Tristol replied. “But yeah, we just let her get away with it most of the time.” That however, was when Tristol’s eyes moved over to look at the Marauder. The fiend was doing something with a hand under the table. “Hold on a second…” Tristol said, whispering the words of a ‘detect magic’ spell. The Marauder lit up like a booze-covered Hiver given a hug by a fire elemental, but that was to be expected. Over by the bar, Clueless was sparkling with a wild snarl of random magical auras, something to ask him about later. But no, what drew Tristol’s attention was that the underside of Shemeska’s table was glittering with a mixture of universal and divination auras. “Cute…” Tristol muttered. “We’ll have to sand the table down now.” “Oh?” Kiro asked. The ‘random’ tapping of claws by the ‘loth on the table had never been random. For most of her stay, which had already been far, far too long for anyone’s comfort level, she’d been drawing the lines of some sort of divination focus onto the underside of the table, along with a bit of self promoting graffiti on the top. “I’ll have to tell Clueless about that later.” Tristol said with a sigh. Clueless had, by that point, done his best to abandon the Marauder. He’d taken her order, mixed her drink, and given it to a random member of the serving staff to hand off in his stead. He’d busied himself with other customers, and hoped that the ‘loth would grow bored without him to torment, and eventually leave. Wishful thinking. “That’s Shemeska the Marauder,” Tristol explained to the cleric next to him. “Aka the King of the Crosstrade. She’s a gossipmonger on the surface, she owns a little under a third of the land in Sigil, and she likely has a hand in half of the illicit goings on in the Cage at any point in time. And she revels in that little worst kept secret in the city as to what she actually is and how much influence she actually has.” “Do people not realize just how full of bullsh*t she is?” Kiro asked Tristol. “No.” The aasimar replied, lowering his voice. “Everyone knows full well.” “She doesn’t know me from anyone else.” Kiro said. “I could, you know, -accidentally- walk past and drop a bucket of dishwater on her when I clear one of the other tables.” “She’d be liable to kill you.” Tristol said. ‘She’s welcome to try’ was very nearly out of Kiro’s mouth, but he wasn’t honestly planning to do anything of the sort, not at the moment, not with Jermorille standing next to her and brushing out her hair. The Exile didn’t have a clue, and his presence in Sigil was somewhere between actual exile, being in a place where he couldn’t do too much damage, and just being a useful idiot from time to time. “Then never mind that.” Kiro said. “That’s a bit harsh…” Back over at the bar, Clueless was being beckoned to by the Marauder again. “Oh hells…” He muttered for the second time in under an hour. By the end of the night he might have more of them than Baator’s nine if things didn’t improve. The ‘loth was sipping approvingly at her drink. At least that had seemed to be the cause for her look of approval, the drink. Or not… “F*ck…” Clueless whispered. The Marauder had both hands on the table, and was leaning down and looking into the eyes of the Shemeska doll that they’d purchased from A’kin’s auction. [center]***[/center] [/QUOTE]
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Shemeska's Planescape Storyhour (Updated 29 Jan 2014)
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