[Planescape] Squaring the Circle Redux - IC

Donner huffs, "here's yer jinx, hope it does it for ya," dropping the coins into the bugbears hand he resigns himself to grumbling about morbid dwarves and insane ghosts.
 

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Vlad shakes his head at Flaust's theatrics. Once she's through and somewhat close to them, he says quietly, "Ten gold will hardly break each of us. If we can get where we need to get without trouble, then I'd say it's money well spent. Or did you think that haggling with the bugbears and beholders was worth the time?"
 

Burrow, you were present when the group assaulted the Citadel of Broken Souls with Sir Praetol and found the documents concerning the baatezu's discovery of a creature known as the Maeldur. Your research, however, took you in a different direction from that of your friends. Intrigued by the unnatural disease that affected the paladin and members of his army, you delved into the dark of that instead, trusting in the ability of the rest of party to deal with whatever malefic plans the fiends are laying.

In last few weeks, you and the priests of Qua-Nosham have learned some interesting chant about the strange malady, though its nature has still not been made fully clear to you. Like the fiendish gutworms you study, it is a parasite of some sort, feeding preferentially off lawful hosts and draining away their will and sense of identity. Curiously enough, it is not fiendish in origin, though it is somehow sentient. Sir Praetol and his men eventually slipped into a Gray Dream, their minds ensnared by an alien mental influence, from which they will never wake unless a cure is found. Alas, you have uncovered all you can about this newfangled pathogen-- it is time to leave Qua-Nosham and search for more answers elsewhere.

Planewalking is a hazardous activity for a lone adventurer, even in the best of times, so you are seeking to join up with your fellow party members. The last missive you received from them (a couple days ago) stated that they were planning to visit Torch, in search of a possible lead. By the time you got to the Ubiquitous Wayfarer though, they had already left. Cursing the lousy Sigilian traffic and the sodding Hardheads that had closed off several blocks worth of perfectly decent streets on account of some altercation with the Defiers, you make your way to the Market Ward, to take the same portal they had (hopefully) taken not so long ago.

So here you stand at the mouth of an alleyway near a small tool shop, your planar sense alighting on the telltale glimmer of a portal a few feet away. A dusty, faded sign in the shop's window reads "portal keys and maps sold"-- a good thing, considering you have no clue what the key is.
 

The bugbear accepts your jink with a toothy smirk and moves aside in a grotesque parody of courtesy to let you through the gates. "Enjoy ya' stay," he calls snidely, his breath no more pleasant than his appearance.

Once past the gates, you notice that the streets and buildings on the other side are in considerably better condition though it would probably be an injustice to call them grand. Everything is coated in a layer of ash and soot though, coloring it all in drab grays and blacks.

According to the map and to Flaust's memory, the festhall is off to your right. It's supposed to be a large and prominent landmark, so it shouldn't be too hard to find.

OOC: Ehr, did someone pay for Kiaros since he has no money?
 

Zoe Windwalker

Noticing, that Kiaros is still standing outside, hesitating, Zoe remembers, that he had no coins with him during the tavern stay and heads back towards the gate in case Kiaros needs someone to pay for him.
 
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Sephiroth no Miko said:
Burrow, you were present when the group assaulted the Citadel of Broken Souls with Sir Praetol and found the documents concerning the baatezu's discovery of a creature known as the Maeldur. Your research, however, took you in a different direction from that of your friends. Intrigued by the unnatural disease that affected the paladin and members of his army, you delved into the dark of that instead, trusting in the ability of the rest of party to deal with whatever malefic plans the fiends are laying.

In last few weeks, you and the priests of Qua-Nosham have learned some interesting chant about the strange malady, though its nature has still not been made fully clear to you. Like the fiendish gutworms you study, it is a parasite of some sort, feeding preferentially off lawful hosts and draining away their will and sense of identity. Curiously enough, it is not fiendish in origin, though it is somehow sentient. Sir Praetol and his men eventually slipped into a Gray Dream, their minds ensnared by an alien mental influence, from which they will never wake unless a cure is found. Alas, you have uncovered all you can about this newfangled pathogen-- it is time to leave Qua-Nosham and search for more answers elsewhere.

Planewalking is a hazardous activity for a lone adventurer, even in the best of times, so you are seeking to join up with your fellow party members. The last missive you received from them (a couple days ago) stated that they were planning to visit Torch, in search of a possible lead. By the time you got to the Ubiquitous Wayfarer though, they had already left. Cursing the lousy Sigilian traffic and the sodding Hardheads that had closed off several blocks worth of perfectly decent streets on account of some altercation with the Defiers, you make your way to the Market Ward, to take the same portal they had (hopefully) taken not so long ago.

So here you stand at the mouth of an alleyway near a small tool shop, your planar sense alighting on the telltale glimmer of a portal a few feet away. A dusty, faded sign in the shop's window reads "portal keys and maps sold"-- a good thing, considering you have no clue what the key is.

Burrow pats Claw on the head a few times, eyeing the portal and the sign nearby. "Well, glory be..." he murmurs, "a first time for everythin', there is, Claw. A key sellin' kip right next to a portal - who would'a thought? Usually, a poor body has to climb the Spire backwards to get th' key he needs, or wigwag with a smilin' 'loth or somesuch... Wonders'o'th'verse never cease, I say." The mephling smiles at his furry companion, who is nearly as tall as is he.

"Claw, sit and stay. Papa will be back in the two shakes of a slaad's tail." Burrow chuckles to himself, knowing full well that slaadi have no tails, and enters into the building. Catching the eye of the proprieter, he asks, "Good morrow and good morn and the blessings of earth and nature 'pon you! I am inquiring about th' sign out front. I be needin' a key, you see..." Burrow smiles warmly.
 
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ooc: No need, Thanee ;)

--
Kiaros sneers disgustedly at the beholder, casting a glance at his companions, and turns away. He walks into a nearby dark alley and unceremoniously slits his throat.

Leaving the corpse behind he sinks into the ground and passes under the wall, then, walking underground peeking up occasionally (while Hiding), he follows the group to their destination.
 

Wondering why Zoe had paused, Flaust looks over her shoulder to see that Kairos had walked off away from the gate and not through it. She wasn't so surprised though, being more than aquainted with "Barmy-the-Wisp's" antics and knowing full well that he'd turn up when ever he felt like it. (Though that was usually - and thankfully - during moments when the group most needed him.)

Calling Zoe over to follow, the girl leads the group over to the Festhall and waits outside so they could gather and discuss how they should go about things before entering.
 
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Vladimir follows Flaust and the rest. He is completely unconcerned with Kiaros's disappearance. He waits patiently once there. Hrothgeat, on the other hand, spends the time waiting snorting small, harmless clouds of dust at the feet of the other party members, preferably when they aren't looking. The mephit gets bored easily yet somehow manages to find cheap fun whenever possible.
 


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