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D&D 5E Greenmtn's Planescape Game IC


Outside the Mortuary

The Dustmen look at each other confused.
"I've never heard of a barmy Modron before you?"
"No, I thought I had seen everything in the cage but a Modron trying to understand a Chaosman?"
"Should we bring him to Harbinger House?"
"Na, Godsmen would just treat it like a power."
"What's the Chant Modron? This Chaosman pen a friend of yours in the dead book? What was his name and if you think he was kill why not talk to the Hardheads?"

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mike peabody

First Post
"This location was more readily available than a Harmonium patrol, for one, but mainly it is because we are pursuing a Xaositect named Eliath and are concerned that these murders, having been allegedly perpetrated by one of that faction, may involve him, since the killer is supposedly attracted to them."


Ashir squares up with one of the two individuals, "What he said fine sirs. Let assume we are either begging for a few coin for the Mortuary’s small alehouses and to leave you alone rather than wasting a few coin on a Harmonium patrol ehh? So why not tell me why a chaosman would be offing hivers? Or tell the modron and give us a few coin for drinks elsewhere eh?" Ashir smiles at the fine dustmen.


"Eliath? Never heard of him, anything that might make him stand out? We get lots of Deaders here Modron, if you can't give me something more maybe ask Toranna over there, she deals with the nameless ones that show up."
The Dustman motions to a tall woman in Dustmen robes standing in the courtyard talking to some collectors who have brought her a body.

mike peabody

First Post
*Walks over to Toranna, whispers to Leau*

"The level of discomfort I feel amongst these people is almost immeasurable with adjectives. Clearly, the privilege of having souls causes many of you organics to exercise a strange kind of disrespect towards your quasi-immortality. But more importantly, I am concerned that my winning smile is regarded as the deceit it now becomes in the face of these death-cultists. If I can supply a jaunty enough tune, are you able to produce an expression which will demonstrate the purity of our intent and the open hand of friendship? Can you handle that level of jauntiness on your own?"

Deus Machina

First Post
Leau keeps his voice quiet, but shrugs a shoulder. "Not many people here smile at someone they don't know. It feels like... snake oil." He waves a hand. "No, I don't know how you press oil from those. But these guys? I kinda feel like they didn't actually know. They pointed us to someone that might, actually. Or the can't be arsed to answer, and we don't have anything they want anyway."
He glances across to the woman, lips set in a line. "Maybe? I'm learning people, but I was a scout, not a trader."


The Mortuary

Toranna happens to look in your direction and notice you approaching. Se seems to examine you nonchalantly at first, then seems to see something that she finds more interesting.

She says nothing seeming to wait to see what your business is.

mike peabody

First Post
*Stops playing banjo*

"Hello, Toranna! The security staff told us your name. We are not using magic to divine your personal information. I understand that to be rude. Also, I am Lex."

"This is Leau. The others are Ashir, Ezra, and Ander. Ashir will likely begin talking to you, soon. That is what I have seen him do."

"Have you heard of or been exposed to a Xaositect named Eliath? Or have you noticed any pattern with the recent increase in murder victims? We understand that there may be a connection."

"One more thing: I know the Dustmen employ zombies. Just so you are aware, Leau is scared of them."


Talking with Toranna

Toranna turns and faces you as you begin to speak.

Waiting patiently for the Modron to finish speaking she slowly slides her hands into the sleeves of her cloak, crossing her arms tightly to her body as if to keep her hands warm.

"Ashir I take it from your friend that you are here to sign a contract?" Toranna produces a rolled up piece of leather parchment, that unrolls with a flick of her wrist from one sleeve, and a small bag that jingles with the sound of coins inside from the other. "The jink is 25 pieces of gold, if you sign the contract." She smiles in an attempt to seem friendly but it comes off coldly.

Waiting for Ashirs response she answers Lex's questions.
"I do not know the name, but if you can give me a description I might be able to help. I don't know about these murders that you speak of but I can say that the Hive is kind to those that come here for final death is easy to find."

[sblock=Lex]Because of your passive perception You notice that the "leather parchment" have properties that you deduce it was created from the hide of a dead human. You before you left you were given a description of what Eliath looked like and typically wore.[/sblock]


Like a street dog they just fed, Khefren was following the only beings he knew in this crazy city, trying to find his feet. They were his lifeline. A talking box, a horse-men and a human torch... Yeah, the fourth guy looked normal, at least for now. But more he looked around and more he was confused. His new companions were weird, that's true, but it was nothing compared at the rest of the population. Horns, wings, spikes, red, blue, green...

Maybe he shouldn't have jumped in this portal after all. Was he homesick already? No way, Khefren was a Dissenters. The God-Pharaoh would have bound him into a sarcophagi and exposed him to the mockery of fellow citizens in the Display of Doubt. Let's hope the God-Pharaoh doesn't have any spies in here.

Then Khefren looked up, bad idea. It was... fascinating and... horrific at the same time. "Hey wait for me!", said Khefren, running after the others. They were traveling in this city as they knew every corners. Their steps led them to this big building and then came the talking. It was already pretty confusing and now this: Harmonium patrol, Chaosman, Deaders, Modron, Hardheads, Dustman, Godsmen, contract...

"What? Wait, what contract?"

"Lex, right?" Khefren was deliberately talking to a metallic box... And it was responding! The idea of slapping himself in the face crossed his mind.
"Wait a minute. What are we doing here?"
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