D&D 5E [D&D 5e] Planescape - In Through the Out Door
- Thread starter Unsung
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Queenie
Queen of Everything
[section]Picayune's grin faltered. 'bisible? He looked down at his posey of dead rats, suddenly horrified. He dropped his bouquet in disgust. A spray of nine rat husks, all of them with malformed cancerous knots of bone jutting from their heads in a grotesque parody of Shard's crystal, rained down on the table. Hell. Mebbe dat Eurid right. Mebbe I's dead.[/section]
[sblock=OOC]Casting message at Liliana. "You cain't see me? You sho'?"[/sblock]
Liliana stays in the relative safety of behind Eurid. She gives another little squeal, "No I don't see anything but flying dead... Rodents... If that is what they are! Poor things need a proper burial!" She shivers, "You're not one of them, are you?"
Given that he'd been looking and still didn't know where those tankards came from, the internal eyerolling stopped short fairly suddenly.
"Nothing so embarrassing as being taken in by a new twist on an old trick, that's for sure. So... don't sign anything." He nodded politely to the guardswoman before taking his leave, steering well clear of the cardsfolk even as he noticed Shard joining their ranks- and far more importantly, the other wizard and his demonic familiar.
That was someone Graydon definitely didn't want to lose track of.
Heading off to whatever place of waste elimination might be found in such an establishment, he waited until finding a lock to close behind him before grabbing hurriedly at his spellbook. Flipping it to the back, he began jotting notes of what was recalled as best he could:
Sylvania- known for revels, place or person? Dwarven Mountain plague- tolerated for some reason? Axis girls- renowned as courtesans? Town of washing sticks, set on fire? =LEARN MORE=
He straightened, taking a breath. There was so much to find out if he was going to keep from being some easily-addled buffoon! Any wizard worth his salt understood the link between knowledge and power, and being powerless in a place like this just was not an option.
...And added to that, he could really use another pair of genuinely trustworthy eyes.
Graydon fumbled forward in his book, searching out the ritual he'd been putting off; familiars had been enough trouble when he dealt with other people's, and he couldn't think how much study-time he'd saved through not having to care for one. But right now, having another pair of eyes to watch things was sounding very appealing.
"Nothing so embarrassing as being taken in by a new twist on an old trick, that's for sure. So... don't sign anything." He nodded politely to the guardswoman before taking his leave, steering well clear of the cardsfolk even as he noticed Shard joining their ranks- and far more importantly, the other wizard and his demonic familiar.
That was someone Graydon definitely didn't want to lose track of.
Heading off to whatever place of waste elimination might be found in such an establishment, he waited until finding a lock to close behind him before grabbing hurriedly at his spellbook. Flipping it to the back, he began jotting notes of what was recalled as best he could:
Sylvania- known for revels, place or person? Dwarven Mountain plague- tolerated for some reason? Axis girls- renowned as courtesans? Town of washing sticks, set on fire? =LEARN MORE=
He straightened, taking a breath. There was so much to find out if he was going to keep from being some easily-addled buffoon! Any wizard worth his salt understood the link between knowledge and power, and being powerless in a place like this just was not an option.
...And added to that, he could really use another pair of genuinely trustworthy eyes.
Graydon fumbled forward in his book, searching out the ritual he'd been putting off; familiars had been enough trouble when he dealt with other people's, and he couldn't think how much study-time he'd saved through not having to care for one. But right now, having another pair of eyes to watch things was sounding very appealing.
Quickleaf
Legend
In the beginning was the word. Shandrizar the All-Seeing knew all too well the power of a word, the power to heal, the power to kill. He was, after all, Shandrizar the All-Seeing, Scryer Supreme of the Plane of Concordant Opposition, Master Augur of the Fraternity of Order, Diviner Preminent in the Lady's Cage. True, that last title was self-given, but there was very little he did not know. That's what made his current predicament so maddening. It was supposed a routine trip thru a portal to Great School of Glantri to acquire some unique spell components from Headmaster d'Ambreville only availble on that prime backwater. He should have stepped out of Sigil's damp sooty air into the musty halls of the Great School. Instead there was just... Darkness. Loss of Self. Disembodied dread. Compression of all his thoughts onto the head of a quill.
And then the word. Followed by another word. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes. He couldn't see anything. Was he...was he inside a backpack? No, perhaps a bag of holding? Clearly he hadn't died otherwise one of his many spell contingencies would have kicked into place. What was this? He felt jostled, pushed up against other things in whatever extra-dimensional he had been trapped. Was that a change of drawers? Inconceivable! Perhaps a cunning fiend had trapped the portal? Yes, that was the most logical explanation.
The words were muffled but he began to make them out. Why did Rusty refer to himself in third person? Who had the annoyingly high squeaky voice? Who were these bumbling clueless primes? Shandrizar the All-Seeing was used to making himself heard, and yet he could not utter a single syllable.
Adding another level of awfulness to his predicament was the sudden smell of fecal matter. This was no depository of bat guano cultivated for evocation spell components. No, this was a toilet. Then he heard the words taking shape in his mind. He knew those words like the back of his hand, but they were muddied somehow, like his memory had been shaken with chaos matter. It was a find familiar spell. Why did he feel so irresistibly drawn to the words of that spell? No... With dawning horror, Shandrizar began to realize what was happening. Screaming, he fluttered to awareness.
"Ahhhh!" Graydon's open spellbook screams, the pages suddenly fluttering open and closed simultaneously. In the rapid fluttering of the pages a masculine slightly bearded face forms. Its eyes dart around in confusion before locking onto Graydon and falling silent, blinking rapidly, head shaking in denial. "Ahh!" The book screams again, abruptly hurtling backwards against the stall wall with a loud 'thud'. Whirling about, the book smashes into Graydon's head, spins in a circle, and collapses on the floor. The face in the pages seems to be hyperventilating. "A clone spell gone awry? No, no... A dream spell? Maybe, unlikely... A familiar?" The arcane conjecture seems to help the face in the book calm himself, though once the truth settles in, he glowers at Graydon, the book floating up in a wobbly manner. "Of all the places you could summon a familiar, you chose a toilet?"
And then the word. Followed by another word. He couldn't feel his fingers or toes. He couldn't see anything. Was he...was he inside a backpack? No, perhaps a bag of holding? Clearly he hadn't died otherwise one of his many spell contingencies would have kicked into place. What was this? He felt jostled, pushed up against other things in whatever extra-dimensional he had been trapped. Was that a change of drawers? Inconceivable! Perhaps a cunning fiend had trapped the portal? Yes, that was the most logical explanation.
The words were muffled but he began to make them out. Why did Rusty refer to himself in third person? Who had the annoyingly high squeaky voice? Who were these bumbling clueless primes? Shandrizar the All-Seeing was used to making himself heard, and yet he could not utter a single syllable.
Adding another level of awfulness to his predicament was the sudden smell of fecal matter. This was no depository of bat guano cultivated for evocation spell components. No, this was a toilet. Then he heard the words taking shape in his mind. He knew those words like the back of his hand, but they were muddied somehow, like his memory had been shaken with chaos matter. It was a find familiar spell. Why did he feel so irresistibly drawn to the words of that spell? No... With dawning horror, Shandrizar began to realize what was happening. Screaming, he fluttered to awareness.
"Ahhhh!" Graydon's open spellbook screams, the pages suddenly fluttering open and closed simultaneously. In the rapid fluttering of the pages a masculine slightly bearded face forms. Its eyes dart around in confusion before locking onto Graydon and falling silent, blinking rapidly, head shaking in denial. "Ahh!" The book screams again, abruptly hurtling backwards against the stall wall with a loud 'thud'. Whirling about, the book smashes into Graydon's head, spins in a circle, and collapses on the floor. The face in the pages seems to be hyperventilating. "A clone spell gone awry? No, no... A dream spell? Maybe, unlikely... A familiar?" The arcane conjecture seems to help the face in the book calm himself, though once the truth settles in, he glowers at Graydon, the book floating up in a wobbly manner. "Of all the places you could summon a familiar, you chose a toilet?"
CanadienneBacon
Explorer
[section]Picayune guffawed. He chortled. Then he choked. The wee girl seemed serious. She thought he was a rat. Picayune snapped his fingers, willing Bessie into his mitts. He hefted the 'bone to his mouth, and began to spin a story born in notes.[/section]
[sblock=OOC]Casting message at Liliana. "I ain't no nutria, baby. Put yer ears on, girlie. I be showin' you whats I am." Picayune played his trombone for Liliana.[/sblock]
[roll0]
Picayune guffawed. He chortled. Then he choked. The wee girl seemed serious. She thought he was a rat. Picayune snapped his fingers, willing Bessie into his mitts. He hefted the 'bone to his mouth, and began to spin a story born in notes.[/section][sblock=OOC]Casting message at Liliana. "I ain't no nutria, baby. Put yer ears on, girlie. I be showin' you whats I am." Picayune played his trombone for Liliana.[/sblock]
[roll0]
Unsung
First Post
"Aðalbjørg," says the bariaur hostess, scrutinizing the satyr, still sizing him up.
She begins to saunter forward slowly, setting down the first course on the table.
She begins to saunter forward slowly, setting down the first course on the table.
|
Queenie
Queen of Everything
Lili's eyes go wide as she cocks her head to the side, listening. "What is THAT?" She listens excitedly. "I have never heard anything like that before!! It's so... Beautiful! So different! What IS it?" Her head snaps around, looking for the source of the wonderful sound.
Unsung
First Post
"We're Betting Greens," Fourish shifts a number of copper coins about, sliding them in front of Shard. "Of Course, Our Former Fourth Likes To Bet Stingers-- Silver-- To Annoy Our Tanar'ric Associate, But That's--"
Like everyone else, the rogue modron pauses, suddenly, as the melancholy opening horn melody of Summertime fills the room. Nor is he alone.
A hush falls over the room, a spell cast over the patrons of the Jilted Planes. The door to the street creaks open for half a moment, but a glare from the bartender is enough to silence the newcomers, who creep in, softly pushing the door shut behind them.
Like everyone else, the rogue modron pauses, suddenly, as the melancholy opening horn melody of Summertime fills the room. Nor is he alone.
A hush falls over the room, a spell cast over the patrons of the Jilted Planes. The door to the street creaks open for half a moment, but a glare from the bartender is enough to silence the newcomers, who creep in, softly pushing the door shut behind them.
Fenris
Adventurer
"Aðalbjørg" whispers Oz before the music fills the air. Oz of course is keenly receptive to any music and was keenly aware of the uniqueness of this hitherto unheard style. Oz's hooves stop to clop along, lending some percussion to the performance.
"Come Aðala, my little mountain flower, dance with me." urges Oz grasping at the bariaur's hands as his own body sways and moves to the haunting music.
Persuasion
1d20+7=26
Performance (for music with hooves or the dance or both!)
1d20+7=24
"Come Aðala, my little mountain flower, dance with me." urges Oz grasping at the bariaur's hands as his own body sways and moves to the haunting music.
Persuasion
1d20+7=26
Performance (for music with hooves or the dance or both!)
1d20+7=24
