[Planescape] Squaring the Circle Redux - IC

[Old Fezziwig]

The mephit, naturally, does think that Flaust would suffer that (or doesn't care if she would or not). For his pains, he gets a swift and hard kick in the gut, causing him to cough up a small cloud of dust. Vlad scowls at both Flaust and Hrothgeat. The mephit looks at Vlad pleadingly, but the dwarf ignores it. "Serves you right, really."

 

[Sephiroth no Miko]

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.

The shop's proprietress, a dour looking githzerai with the face of wrinkled prune, takes a look out the window at the gray Sigilian 'sky' and harrumphs. "Ain't no good mornings here ever, but you're the boss," she grouses in an amicable way and shuffles off her stool to dig in the bins on the shelves behind her. She glances over her shoulder and asks drily, "Will this strictly be a one-way trip? Or do ya need a key to get back as well?"

 

[Ashy]

Burrow smiles, "Fine o' ya to ask, m'dear, fine indeed. I'd love to have both an' I thank ya dearly fer askin'..."

 

[Sephiroth no Miko]

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.

The familiar spasms of death grip you and then your spirit floats free of its mortal host, fighting against the magnetic pull of peaceful oblivion. The spirit you left behind is not so fortunate, however, and is dragged screaming into its dark depths. The body slumps over quietly in the rubbish-strewn alley, just mere meat cooling now, and before you leave, you notice that greedy eyes are already appraising its fine apparel.

 

[Sephiroth no Miko]

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.

The Festhall of Falling Coins proves easy to find, located as it is near the the center of the liveliest part of Maygel. It is a large, two-story building made of purplish-black basalt, adorned with curiously delicate and elaborate but spiky ironwork. A number of its graceful spires emit a small plume of smoke, barely noticeable against the fumes being spewed forth by the nearby volcano. To Zoe, the architectural style looks suspiciously familiar.

As you stand out front to go over your plan before entering, you can hear music and laughter drifting through the gilded doors, their bright metal tarnished by years of exposure to the caustic air. Entrance, at least, it seems is free.

 

[Sephiroth no Miko]

Burrow smiles, "Fine o' ya to ask, m'dear, fine indeed. I'd love to have both an' I thank ya dearly fer askin'..."

She places two small iron rods on the counter and peers at you curiously. "You're a strange rock," she comments mildly. "Most 'o the bashers I get around here are merchant types, looking to make a quick trade or two with the guilds. They're usually much more heavily armed," she says with a sardonic grin. "Oh, and twenty-four stingers please. Twenty-six if you be needin' a map as well, little sir."

 

[Sephiroth no Miko]

Double post

 

[Ashy]

She places two small iron rods on the counter and peers at you curiously. "You're a strange rock," she comments mildly. "Most 'o the bashers I get around here are merchant types, looking to make a quick trade or two with the guilds. They're usually much more heavily armed," she says with a sardonic grin. "Oh, and twenty-four stingers please. Twenty-six if you be needin' a map as well, little sir."

Burrow places three gold on the counter and smiles a pleasant smile. "Keep th' change, love, and I will take a map, thankee." He looks carefully at the iron rods and then slips them into his palm. "Ah, glory be, m'lady - I guess one might call me a merchant of the chant, an' knowledge be my wares, y'see. I find 'at a well-lanned mind an' a tongue as sharp as a shiv be th' only armor and weapons I need..." He shoots the 'zerai a quick wink. So if ya've any wigwag about where I'm headin', I'd be most apprecative. The melphing slides another five gold out on the counter.

Burrow then holds up both rods, one in each hand. "One for there an' th' other, back, I assume?" He will wait for the githzerai's replies, take the proffered map and then exit the shop, thanking her profusely. Once outside, he whistles for Claw and then activates and steps into the shimmering surface of the portal.

OOC: updated character sheet

 

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

*Blade shakes her bronze hair and walks confidently into the Festhall. Her armor gleams only dimly in the caustic atmosphere, and she makes a mental note to polish it as soon as possible. With curiosity, she looks around the place, hoping to find a trusthworth-looking person to ask about their quest.*

 

[Old Fezziwig]

Vlad follows Blade in, keeping close to her, just in case things got ugly. He turns his head to her. "I'm following your lead on this one. I'm not sure the locals would appreciate my sense of humor."