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Message: <blockquote data-quote="OneCrappy DM" data-source="post: 9818462" data-attributes="member: 7033788">ArilYou wake to the familiar sway of your hammock, its ropes creaking in quiet protest as the building settles. Sigil never truly sleeps, it just shifts its weight. The attic of the Leaky Tenement is thick with the smell of damp wood, old cooking grease, and yesterday’s smokeleaf.  Cold drizzle streaks down the small, warped window, smearing the view of the street below into a blur of gray stone and crooked silhouettes. The Cage wears rain like a second skin, and today it clings. Morning will come slow, you can tell slow and sour, the kind that doesn’t hurry for anyone. You lie there a moment longer, listening. Footsteps on stairs that don’t quite line up. A muffled argument in three languages. The distant clang of a portal key slamming home. You’ve been waiting for chant, real chant, not the half truths traded for green and patience is a skill Sigil forces on you whether you like it or not.Eventually, you climb down and make your way to the first floor. The foyer is a maze of bodies and bedrolls, backpackers sprawled wherever the floor allows planewalkers snoring beneath cloaks from a dozen worlds, a tiefling muttering in her sleep, someone glowing faintly and humming. You step carefully no one here takes kindly to being kicked awake. The mess hall bleeds into the foyer in a wash of dim lantern light and steam. That’s where you see her. The mud mephit who runs the Leaky Tenement, is perched behind the scarred front desk, wings twitching absently as she sorts through a stack of bent envelopes and mismatched coins. Her skin is caked with drying mud that never quite flakes off, and her smile wide, toothy, and entirely too cheerful for this hour splits her face when she spots you. "Aril dear,” she chirps, voice wet and bubbly, “someone left this bit of dark for you.”She produces a small envelope from beneath the desk, its edges damp but intact, the seal unbroken. She tilts her head, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Didn’t say much. Just said you’d know.” She slides it across the desk toward you. This is it. The chant you’ve been waiting for.[SPOILER="For Aril's Eyes Only"]Aye, Cutter we don't rattle our bone boxes. Here is the dark, some short wirry fellow in blue wizard robes has got some chant on the Isle of Black trees and how to get there. Now before you search the hive for this Berk, thought you might want to know Gredmark down at the Crooked Sword is paying for his whereabouts sort of a get what is yours and take what is yours. Signed -DBC[/SPOILER]</blockquote>

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