(IC) DND 3.5 Enter Planescape


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Mr. Black
Perception: 0
Sense Motive: 4
Search: 6
AC: 14;
FF: 13;
Touch: 11
Spell Slots"
0: [X] [] [] [] []
1st: [X] [x] [] []
HP: 8
Init: 1
Fort: 2
Ref: 1
Will: 2
Buffs: none


The room seems fine enough for now. He dumps a few of his belongings, throwing a bedroll on a cot and a backpack containing a lantern and rope underneath. He repacks his small satchel with the few important things he needs and slings it over a shoulder, under his overcoat.

"A job, quid pro quo." ((Infernal for something for something))
He pops his head out from the trap door,

"Well, if you do a literal translation to infernal, it's something much more sinister."

Climbing out, he walks back to the table,

"But that's to be expected if you're trying to make a fair deal with a devil."

He stands there and assesses the assembled group,

"So we have a few places we can start. Unless Mr. Ironfist has got some chant on where we should go first, I think we find something to eat and discuss our options. Who's in?"
 
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ARIL
Aril tucks his ears back into the braiding, and puts his helm back on.
At the suggestion of getting something to eat, he rises from the table, and touching neither mimir or meurt, heads towards the door.
 

To Mr. Black's offer, Wawaate answers, "Yes, something to eat is good. That was my next question, in fact, about this place: if there are no seasons, how does everyone feed themselves?"
 

Table
"Well, a bub-addled like that could be fetching some bub at a alehouse. 'e may, also be looking for almes from the bleakers. I doubt he'd go to the blood pit but he may enjoy the sport." Gredmark puts his pipe down for a moment to get to the business of everyone.

OOC
There is much to be said about Gredmark and his methods; however, he has given you the tools required to get the job done. In return, he will promise to find a portal back to each of your home planes. For those who don’t wish to leave Sigil, or who aren’t sponsoring someone else, he will instead offer 100 pp, also known as mert.
Enjoy the local accommodations for food: rattsies, fungi, insects and grubs, soft rock bread with dip, arachnid dumplings, and pickled slum cabbage. There are no places to sit and eat in the Hive, except for some alehouse with an equally questionable environment. You can’t fart in the Hive without someone knowing it.
Traveling out of the ward will take a few hours if you don’t run into trouble. Depending on where you’re headed and what you encounter along the way, the journey could take days or even months.
 

ARIL
Aril exits, and waits patiently outside, openly practicing the somatic compoment of Curse Person.
He will wait a reasonable amount of time. There are several things he wishes to say to the others before making any decisions.
 

Mr. Black
Perception: 0
Sense Motive: 4
Search: 6
AC: 14;
FF: 13;
Touch: 11
Spell Slots"
0: [X] [] [] [] []
1st: [X] [x] [] []
HP: 8
Init: 1
Fort: 2
Ref: 1
Will: 2
Buffs: none


As he gathers his things, he buys a drink and fills his flask. It may come in handy. He tries a few questions out on the Mimir, testing the limits of its knowledge,

"Who are the bleakers and what are their relationship to the other factions? What's the best all-around-use swear word? What's Lathly mean? What's the worst thing you can say to a Cager that'll get your face bashed in?..."

He's been getting the context of most of the lingo but now he's asking more nuanced questions. He doesn't do it for long mostly because he doesn't want to annoy anyone with the mimir's constant yammering and knowing Aril's waiting outside to get the job started.

He lets Waawate go through the door first. If they're gonna get peeled, he doesn't want to be the first out the door. He's half-expecting those priggers to be waiting for him.

He cautiously moves out the door after the others,

"So, Aril and Luke. You two are Cagers: what's the move."

@OneCrappy DM You don't have to answer all those questions - I can look some of that faction stuff up, if need be.

Edited to not eat.

Also, am serious that Mr. Black doesn't walk out of the bar first. He's half expecting to get jumped by Aril and/or those cut-purses from earlier. So he's keeping an eye out.
 
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Bimble

Bimble is quiet. He listens, lets the talkers talk, and pets Rao to reassure himself as much as the dog. He is somewhat in shock, but knows he can't afford to remain in this condition. Sighing, he nibbles on some food, and grabs his share of the "mert".

OOC: Sorry for the lame post, I'm travelling. I'll have a mediocre posting rate until jan 3rd. Happy new year to all!
 


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