[Planescape] Squaring the Circle Redux - IC

[Isida Kep'Tukari]

*Blade looks sideways and Vlad and nods her head.*

I'm not sure I appreciate your humor, Vlad. You celebrate death far too much, even allowing for your chosen profession...

"Thank you for your confidence, Vlad," is all Blade says.

 

[Ferrix]

Donner plods on forward, Grizzle at his side wagging his tail excitedly at a new place to be sniffed out. Donner hoped the inside of the building smelled better than the outside.

 

[Old Fezziwig]

Vlad nods back, wondering if his small joke was a bit too subtle. Shrugging, he scans the room, trying to figure out how many people here would like to kill him if given the chance.

 

[deadestdai]

Flaust allowed the others to enter the premises first before she made to enter. Scanning the streets, alley-ways and buildings for any who might be taking any interest in her group's business

Spoiler

Spot +11

she then enters and heads the opposite direction that her friends have taken, trying to act inconspicuous, at the same time looking for the person she was told would be here.

 

[Serpenteye]

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.

Kiaros allows himself a sad smile before departing. The nameless tiefling had been a thouroghly evil and corrupt creature, and yet the punishment it was about to recieve would be a greater evil by far. The debt in pain would never be repayed, even when it had been suffered a thousandfold.

--
[Festhall]

Kiaros enters the building beneath the feet of the group, casually listening to their conversation. He turns sharply left and rises up into the thick outer stone wall of the festhall. Rising further he flies into the ceiling, [if it's not thick enough to accomodate him he'll hover a fraction inside the ceiling and as small a fraction as possibly beneath.] only his eyes penetrating the surface. Thus he will move secretly inside the ceiling, searching and listening for anyone of apparent importance on the ground floor. [Hide: 24 , Spot: 20, Listen: 20]

 

[Thanee]

Zoe Windwalker

Trying to remember, where she could have seen this kind of architecture before, Zoe enters the Festhall together with the others. She tries to give an impression, that it wouldn't be the best idea to start any trouble, while keeping her back to the wall and her eyes open for anyone that might be able to give them the information they are looking for - the location of the Daubei's Obscure Woe - and looks either honest enough - quite unlikely - or at least intimidated enough to keep his or her mouth shut for long enough so they can get there unhindered.

[OOC: Sense Motive +17]

 

[Sephiroth no Miko]

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.

"Aye," the old githzerai nods in response to Burrow's question about the rods, and slides a scroll of reddish paper across to him as well. "And here's your map, by the by."

She eyes the wealth of jink lying on the counter in front of her and chuckles, a curiously desolate sound. "Ah, that'll feed these ancient bones for a couple weeks, it will-- a generous blood, ya be, and a gent too. Very well, little sir, old Rithonis'll tell you what she knows 'o Torch, and may it be enough to save yer darkling hide. The city's always at war with itself, see? Berks there ain't content with what they got; they're always looking to add someone else's possessions to their pile. Ain't much there that isn't settled with threats, jink, or blood... 's a right lovely town. If you're looking for important chant, don't bother with the guilds. They're so busy chasing after jinkscores, they can't seem to tumble onto the notion that anything else matters." She sighs a little. "Not that anything does, in the end, mind. Go see Badurth instead-- he runs a kip called the Festhall of the Falling Coins. Precious little happens in Torch without his knowledge and even the guilds ain't addled enough to run foul of him. His dark ain't cheap but he ain't no knight of the post either." She snorts derisively. "Which is more than anyone else can say for the rest of the bleeding sods."

Your conversation with Rithonis concluded, you proceed through the portal with Claw, and find yourself standing in ankle-deep muck amidst a reddish landscape. Three huge volcanic spires rise before you, the middle one still belching forth flame and sulfurous vapors, adding to the general miasma of the place. The area surrounding the three mounts is a fetid swamp, its stinking waters and silt as dark as blood. The people here look undernourished and diseased, though their avaricious, hostile stares make it hard to evoke any sort of pity.

 

[Sephiroth no Miko]

You enter into a huge central hall lit by numerous fireplaces and iron braziers hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Though the air quality is little better inside than outside, the warmth in here feels welcome after the chilly winds. The first thing that attracts your attention is a massive fountain at its center-- instead of flowing with water, it jingles with what must be thousands of coins. Despite the rampant greed you've encountered in this town, however, you don't see anyone trying to fish them out.

The festhall is filled with all sorts of cutters, most of them engaged in one form of entertainment or another. There are lithe dancers and lusty bards to delight the eyes and ears, and fine wine and food to tempt the palate. Off to your side, you can see berks engaged in games of chance and skill (some well-dressed, some not), while hard-looking bouncers patrol the floor vigilantly to ensure no violence breaks out. Overall, the atmosphere is bawdy but peaceful, a pleasant if unexpected respite from the poorly veiled hostility in the rest of the city. Whoever owns this place runs a tight ship, it seems.

Festhall of the Falling Coins​

Zoe:

Spoiler

[Zoe rolled an Int check 17+2=19] It comes to you quite suddenly where you've seen this type of architecture-- in the Underdark of Toril, amongst the drow. [Zoe rolled Sense Motive 7+17=24] Sadly, Flaust never mentioned who she was expecting to meet here. You think that outside of asking her, maybe talking to one of the employees would prove helpful, though it's highly unlikely they'll know where Daubei's Obscure Woe is. They might be able to direct you to someone who does.

Flaust:

Spoiler

[Flaust rolled Spot 4+11=15] You look around for suspicious characters and although the group got plenty of glances, no one seemed particularly interested in your activities. In the festhall, you scan the crowd for the owner of the place but unfortunately, since you don't really know what he looks like, you're forced to rely on your intuition for which one of these berks he might be. You see a number of rich hoi-poi types, but none of them are acting like they own the place.

Kiaros:

Spoiler

[Kiaros rolled Hide 11+24=35, Spot 12+20=32, Listen 8+20=28] You lurk silently in the ceiling, scanning the place intently and listening in to bits of conversations here and there. Sadly, Flaust never really described the cutter she was looking for, so you're somewhat stumped to who it might be. You note a scaly man watching one of the dancers who seems somewhat important, as well as a githyanki by one of the gambling tables and a human by another game table. These three seem to be the wealthiest bloods in the room, and in a town like this, that's pretty much equivalent to the most important.

 

[Serpenteye]

Kiaros hovers indecisively for a while, inwardly cursing Flaust for her secrecy. He couldn't dare to reveal himself to the wrong person in a place like this. The consequences could be messy, to say the least, and he really doesn't enjoy killing people needlessly.
He makes another cirquit around the main room, then begins to systematically search the smaller rooms on the ground floor. Unless he finds something of obvious importance he ascends another level and begins to search the rooms on the floor above. [same method]

 

[Ashy]

"Aye," the old githzerai nods in response to Burrow's question about the rods, and slides a scroll of reddish paper across to him as well. "And here's your map, by the by."

She eyes the wealth of jink lying on the counter in front of her and chuckles, a curiously desolate sound. "Ah, that'll feed these ancient bones for a couple weeks, it will-- a generous blood, ya be, and a gent too. Very well, little sir, old Rithonis'll tell you what she knows 'o Torch, and may it be enough to save yer darkling hide. The city's always at war with itself, see? Berks there ain't content with what they got; they're always looking to add someone else's possessions to their pile. Ain't much there that isn't settled with threats, jink, or blood... 's a right lovely town. If you're looking for important chant, don't bother with the guilds. They're so busy chasing after jinkscores, they can't seem to tumble onto the notion that anything else matters." She sighs a little. "Not that anything does, in the end, mind. Go see Badurth instead-- he runs a kip called the Festhall of the Falling Coins. Precious little happens in Torch without his knowledge and even the guilds ain't addled enough to run foul of him. His dark ain't cheap but he ain't no knight of the post either." She snorts derisively. "Which is more than anyone else can say for the rest of the bleeding sods."

Your conversation with Rithonis concluded, you proceed through the portal with Claw, and find yourself standing in ankle-deep muck amidst a reddish landscape. Three huge volcanic spires rise before you, the middle one still belching forth flame and sulfurous vapors, adding to the general miasma of the place. The area surrounding the three mounts is a fetid swamp, its stinking waters and silt as dark as blood. The people here look undernourished and diseased, though their avaricious, hostile stares make it hard to evoke any sort of pity.

Stepping out of the portal, Burrow, as is his habit, turns around to see what he just stepped through. He absentmindedly pats Claw on the head, drawing a rumbling growl from the dire badger as he comments, "Most sod-headed leatherheads ne'er e'en look to see where th' portal back lies, Claw... 'An' that's exactly why they wound up lost..."

He then looks over the whole of Torch, which is one of those places in the multiverse that he had always wanted to see but just never had the reason to visit before now. "Well, glory be...." he remarked, whistling long and low. Glancing quickly at his map, the mephling quickly determines which way he needs to go and sets off in that direction. "Be sharp, lad-", Burrow comments to Claw, "we're as likely to get bobbed as shived in this dretch-hole..."