Bryon_Soulweaver
First Post
Just finished reading, and wow. Nice work. What are the levels of the characters, just for some insight so I can guess what skills, feats, ect. they have.
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Shemeska's Planescape Storyhour (Updated 29 Jan 2014)
- Thread starter Shemeska
- Start date
Ohtar Turinson
Explorer
I should think colds would fit better on Oinos.Shemeska said:
Bryon_Soulweaver
First Post
Clueless said:
Sorry, didnt phrase it right. What are the class levels and such. like Nisha is rogue and anything else? Clueless is bladesinger and what? Such stuff like that
Shemeska
Adventurer
Prodigy, 'Fat of the Land', Track 1. 
The Factol rubbed his hands together and glanced across the crowd once more, making eye contact with many of those present, and smiling or otherwise giving some cue that he had noticed them. And, once again, he spoke.
“Many of you know me, many of you have worked with me before on various occasions. Some of you may even not like me, and I hope to smooth over any such feelings this evening. However, for a plurality of you here tonight, we don’t much know each other. Perhaps a familiar name on paper but never having spoken; perhaps even less familiarity than that, and for all of those cases I want to get to know you more and I hope to give all of you a better acquaintance with myself. This banquet and all of tonight’s festivities are for you, and for that purpose.”
Jeremo paused as a number of people in the crowd voiced their thanks and support for their invite and his efforts to be social. After the chink of wine glasses had ceased, he continued.
“Now, I’ve been in possession of the Palace of the Jester for some time now, but I’ve always had only a very small hand in its role as a place of commerce, politics and intrigue. I’ve much more recently found myself in command of the Ring-Givers. Some might even call me a factol…” Jeremo intentionally paused at that, letting the disquiet of the room voice itself in mutters and whispers.
As of yet, he had not officially declared himself the Factol of the Ring-Givers, nor the sect an official Faction within Sigil, based in the Palace of the Jester. Whether such a decision and declaration would cross The Lady’s ban upon the factions was an open question, and Jeremo seemed to be riding that line, but not quite crossing it.
“Such a declaration, if I do make it, is not for tonight. We’ll save that for the next time perhaps. You’ll have to wait and see I guess…” He said with a wink and a laugh as the tension and uncertainty in the room faded back to a dull whisper.
“But, for this evening I’ve placed you all in the open arms of my hospitality, and as a good and proper host, I’ve seen to it that you will all be both entertained, well fed, and well watered, be it wine or whatever else you prefer to your tastes. I won’t be too discerning, but you may if that’s your pleasure.” Jeremo bowed with a flourish and tipped his crown to his guests before motioning to a few dozen servants.
“Appetizers?” Fyrehowl asked curiously as two servants approached their table, one with a list and a pen, and the other with a tray of small boxes.
“Drinks?” Clueless said in turn.
“Butternut squash?” Nisha said, breaking the train of thought.
“No, I think… butternut squash?” Tristol said with a weird look over towards the grinning Xaositect.
“Gifts…” Skalliska said, “The whole Ring Giver shtick. You give people presents and it gets you respect, owed favors and eventually the multiverse sees to it that you get paid back ten times over. At least that’s their claim on the matter.”
“So its entirely selfish?” Toras asked.
“Not really. At least according to their philosophy the ‘getting back’ part is incidental, and the giving has to be gracious and honest for it to work.” Skalliska replied.
“So he’s just a nice guy then. I think I like him.” Florian said.
“Heh. That’s the point of this all.” The kobold said a moment before she smiled and accepted the small box handed to her by one of the Natterer’s servants.
And so it went as Jeremo’s servants walked about the room, handing similar small boxes to each of the nearly three hundred guests, and, at the same time, taking requests for drinks. The Jester himself had taken a seat once more upon his throne and was giddy with anticipation while his guests seemed puzzled and curious about what he might have given them.
“Now, as I’m sure some of you may have noticed already, the boxes are locked by magic and won’t open till I’ve given the command word. So be patient, let your assumptions develop, let your imaginations run wild, and we’ll get to that soon enough.” Jeremo said with a grin.
“Awww…” Came a sullen whisper from Nisha.
Tristol looked over at her as she shook the box and seemed on the verge of gnawing on it, “Left the lockpicks at home, right?”
“…yes…” She said before patiently putting it down and staring at it intently.
“Any ideas on what it might be?” The mage asked her.
“Not a clue, and it doesn’t weigh anything at all.” She replied.
“Really?” Tristol said as he lightly hefted hers and compared it to the weight of his own. Sure enough, the tiefling’s was much lighter in weight.
“Maybe he customized it for everyone? Yours feels lighter than mine. Odd.” He said as he handed her back the box.
Jeremo waited a few minutes before continuing, “Before we proceed with anything else, I simply wanted to give a warm welcome to those of you that I know better perhaps than others. There are quite a few of you, so I can’t promise that I’ll say something to all of you. This is just whimsy, and the names that leap to my mind as I’m saying them.”
The next dozen minutes were spent as The Lady’s Jester recited a laundry list of names of Sigil’s elite, wealthy and otherwise influential. Guildmasters, highpriests, former faction highups and more, were among those he mentioned and singled out.
“Sigil’s representative within the Planar Trade Consortium, Estevan, good to see you made it instead of being busy with paperwork all evening as I swear you must too often be. Never do see you out and about; a shame I see you so rarely.” Jeremo said to the blue-skinned ogremagi who occupied a chair at one of the three banquet tables.
“Notice something? Jeremo put Estevan, Zadara and Shemeska at different tables.” Clueless pointed out, “And A’kin is about as far away from the latter as is possible…”
“Good. Otherwise they’d complain about whose chair was better or who got to sit where. It’d be a nightmare.” Skalliska said, obviously having seen such an instance before, if the tone of her voice gave any inference.
“She’d probably try to accidentally spill stuff on A’kin if she was near him. Oh hell, who am I kidding? She’d throw a fit and go after him…” Florian said.
“A’kin doesn’t deserve it either, he’s a nice guy. Say what you will, but I like him.” Nisha said with a grin as she pointed up to the Factol Karan doll in her hair.
Jeremo continued to rattle off names, “My personal thanks Lissandra, to the work of your people as of late. They’ve been a great help in plumbing many of the portals in the upper floors of the Palace that had, till recently, been largely unmapped since the Tempest.”
The young Torillian wizardress seated next to Clueless smiled at the Jester as he called out to her from across the room.
“Ah… my favorite arms dealer in all of Sigil, Spiral Hal’Oight. Tell me, who pays more, the Baatezu? The Tanar’ri? The ‘loths?”
“All of my sales are to legitimate buyers! I don’t sell arms to anyone that doesn’t need them or shouldn’t have them. I don’t honestly know what you’re getting on about Jeremo.” The young Golden Lord shouted back to the Jester.
“Suuuure you don’t. How’s it feel to be a puppet to the ‘loths and the archons both? I’m sure it pays well though.” Jeremo muttered under his breath.
“What’s so great about arms?! I sell ALL the body parts!” Came the sudden and confused shout from Seamusxanthuszemus.
“A’kin, the friendliest fiend I know, and perhaps the better half of Sigil’s pair of resident Yugoloths. You at least know the meaning of punctuality, and I find you much more pleasant to deal with, even if I sodding can’t figure out what’s up with you. You’re always pleasant, I’ll grant you that.” Jeremo said towards where A’kin sat jovially talking in a low voice with the people seated around him. The turquoise, black, and gold velvet robed Friendly Fiend smiled and waved back towards the Jester before going back to his ongoing conversation.
“And we’re still waiting on your bitter half to show up…she’s late…” Jeremo once again muttered.
“My friend Fell, it’s good to see you in attendance this evening.” Jeremo spoke and waved to the fallen Dabus who sat slightly apart from the others at his table, those seated around him having moved as far away as possible.
“Oh, now that’s just cool.” Nisha said as she watched the words that Jeremo spoke to Fell take the form of glowing, dabus-like rebuses above his head, seemingly emerging from his tarnished, off-kilter crown. “Can you make me one of those whatever he has Tristol?”
“Illusions…” Tristol muttered, though he had to admit mentally to himself that it was a rather nifty thing for the Jester to do, considering what Fell was and all. A moment later and the tiefling wasn’t pleading for him to make her a rebus speaking whatever it was that Jeremo had, but rather she was making faces at Ylem the modron who was still blankly staring at Fyrehowl, much to the lupinal’s disquietude.
“Lady’s Grace to you too Fell…” Jeremo said to himself, again in a soft whisper, and making sure than his words did not manifest in rebus above his head. “Lady’s Grace to you, be it a curse or a blessing Fell…”
Over the next few minutes, Jeremo called out and mentioned a dozen or so other persons and bantered with them as his servants brought out any requested drinks to the attendees of the party. As soon as that mundane business had been attended to, he gave his guests several more moments to taste their liquid pleasures and then he spoke again.
“And, on that note, you’ll find that your gifts are open. I hope you enjoy. A few of them are personalized to the receiver, though with the simple amount of people here tonight I could do that for all of you.” Jeremo waved his hands to encourage everyone to open their gift, and his expression was like that of a cat who’d just been given a bowl full of cream; he was enjoying himself greatly.
Almost immediately the room was filled with gasps and commotion as people opened their boxes and discovered what was inside each of them. Collectively, the group looked at one another, shrugged and opened their gifts to much the same response as the rest of the room.
“Oh! Oh my!” Florian said as she held up an emerald the size of a hen’s egg.
“How much money does this guy have?!” Toras exclaimed, hastily adding, “Not that I’m complaining!” He held a yellow topaz of equal or larger size in his own hand.
“YES!!!!” Came Nisha’s response as she grabbed something from her own giftbox before tossing the box aside, jumping up and dancing for a few seconds of glee.
Clueless looked over at her with bemusement as he admired his own reflection in the smooth surface of a polished opal the size of his fist. “Someone’s happy with what they got, eh Nisha?”
“No no no, I didn’t get a gemstone. I got a treasure map of sorts. I get to go find mine and pretend I’m stealing it.” The tiefling was giggling with glee as she handed the tiny, folded map to Factol Karan’s open hands poking up out of her hair.
Tristol laughed, “Well, I think someone noticed your past breaking and entering attempt…”
“Probably. Nothing in this place goes on without him knowing, but honestly, he’s just a genuinely nice person from what I can tell.” She replied, still jubilant and with her tail smacking back and forth against her chair in excitement.
“He must be. He must have just dropped a few million jink on his guests on that alone.” Fyrehowl said with a note of disbelief to her voice.
Jeremo was standing again, seemingly unable to actually sit still for more than a moment. Between that and his penchant for speaking, it wasn’t any surprise that he was known as ‘The Natterer’. He seemed honestly happy at the responses his gifts had garnered, and he humbly brushed off most of the appreciative ‘thank you’s that he received from those in the crowd seated near him.
“I thought that you might appreciate that small gift from me to you. It’s a little thing, both for old friends, new acquaintances, and perhaps a rekindling of relationships gone sour in times past. And so welcome, all of you. And now I…”
Jeremo’s speech and welcome was suddenly and abruptly interrupted by the crash of the banquet hall entrance doors flinging themselves open and slamming into the walls they were hinged to. The assembled crowd turned as one to look at the smug, grinning face of the fiend and her entourage who stood centered in the open doorway, a crackle of dispersing magic still flickering from her single, outstretched hand.
“Starting without me?” The Marauder’s voice was elegant, presumptive and absurdly petulant, as she stood framed by the gilded entryway. She was dressed in a glimmering blue evening gown whose material resembled the scales of a sapphire dragon, and for most appearances it may as well have been something she dipped herself in, such was the snug tightness of the fit. The King of the Crosstrade was also draped in a long golden stole of a loose, silken material that was wrapped about her neck and hung across her shoulders to hang loosely at her sides and trail upon the floor.
“My darling Jeremo, you know you simply cannot have a social event of this size and prestige without me in attendance. But, as we all know, it wouldn’t do with me arriving with everyone else. That would be far too mundane and gauche. So here I am, fashionably late.” Shemeska said, the level of arrogance almost dripping like poison off her tongue.
Somehow Jeremo looked neither upset nor surprised at the fiend’s late arrival, and as she strolled into the room and made for her seat, it was anyone’s best guess if he had been aware of her impending presence before she had kicked the doors in. He managed to remain calm and even pleased that she had arrived, and not a single harsh comment passed his lips. Still, a puckish light seemed to flicker in his eyes like this was all something that he’d frankly hoped for as he ran a hand through his fussy blond hair.
“We’ve all been awaiting your presence with bated breath my darling. But, now that you’re here, my compliments on your attire for the evening.” Jeremo said, putting on at least the polite pretense of cordiality.
“You’re too kind Jeremo. I like you, I really do. Now, be a gracious host to an honored guest and escort me to my seat?” The fiend held out her arm and waited for the Jester to personally lead her to her seat.
Clueless frowned over towards the Marauder’s direction, “And once again everyone just rolls over when she tells them to. Doesn’t anyone in this damn city have a backbone when it comes to that b*tch?”
Lissandra leaned in closer to Clueless, “Don’t worry. If I know Jeremo at all, he’ll see to it that she’s paid back tenfold for embarrassing him at his own celebration.”
“One can only hope…” Clueless said grudgingly.
Jeremo led the Marauder towards her table, pointed out her chair and was abruptly handed her stole. “Anything else Madame?”
“Hmm….” The fiendess pondered for a moment before batting her eyelashes and extending her hand to the Jester’s lips for him to kiss. He politely gave a forced smile and kissed the knuckle on her third finger before walking away and letting her take her seat. About halfway back to his own throne, he handed her gaudy stole to one of his servants to take away till after the party was over.
“A pity. Normally they pay someone to make sure the dogs stay confined to the kennel out back during these things…” The Titan said under her breath as she looked vaguely in Jeremo’s direction. If Shemeska heard it, she made no response as she walked to her chair.
“Oh no! The b*itch and the titan are wearing the same dress! One of them’s gonna have to go home and change now! Byebye shemmy!” Toras muttered in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh if only that were the case.” Clueless said to the fighter, noting that while both the fiend and the titan were both wearing some shade of blue, both were wearing entirely unique attires for the evening, and so the normal rules of such things weren’t going to raise their ugly heads for the current event. A pity.
“How does she walk in that dress?” Florian asked. “No, seriously. What mold did they pour her in and then paint that dress on her for tonight.”
“You can’t seriously tell me that you’re jealous.” Skalliska said over to Florian.
“Right right, says the woman without breasts.” Florian replied.
“Mammals…” Skalliska sniped back.
Nisha rolled her eyes and said nothing.
“They’re fake.” Tristol said softly without looking over at the Marauder.
“Excuse me?” Florian asked.
“They’re fake. She’s an arcanaloth. They can shapechange at will into pretty much anything from a flea to a dragon. So, in a manner of speaking, they’re fake.” He clarified, still not willing to look in the ‘loth’s direction when he was talking about her.
Fyrehowl smirked, “I still don’t feel much better. She’s like a walking stereotype of every evil sorceress you’ve ever heard of. Powerful, b*tchy, vain, and with big t*ts.”
“And judging from that dress, she likes people to look at them.” Clueless said with a smirk. “But, on a more serious note…one word: exemplar. You should know Fyrehowl, you’re one too, just a different flavor entirely. They don’t just reflect a concept, they –are- a concept in a way. So yeah, she pretty much is a mix of every evil sorceress you’ve ever heard of, just maybe more arrogant, and very much in need of a shave. And before I die, I’m going to see her shaved bald.”
“And distribute a sensory stone of it to anyone who wants it.” Florian added.
“I’ll help.” Toras said.
“That’s fine, but I’d like to be the one doing the shaving…” Clueless said with a wicked grin.
As the party chattered amongst themselves, the King of the Crosstrade was busy dismissing her normal entourage of toadies and guards.
“Do be polite and wait outside till the party is over. Trust me dears, I’ll be fine. Jeremo’s a fine gentleman. He won’t try to take advantage of me. Though I can’t say I won’t try the same of him.” Shemeska said with a laugh to her collection of tiefling groomer-guards and they quickly excused themselves and left as she walked to her seat.
“Very nice indeed. You have excellent taste Jeremo, just as I do and… oh you’ve got to be f*cking kidding me…” The Marauder paused and changed her tone of voice abruptly as she looked at who was to be seated next to her: Seamusxanthuszemus.
“I could have saved you jink on the scales for that dress, I’ve got a special on drake hide this week, only slightly moldy!” The Dust Mephit said in a high-pitched voice as he looked up at the fiend, the tablecloth stuffed like a napkin into his shirt’s collar, and holding his oversized silverware in his hands like a kid at the adult table.
“…what the f*ck is this?! Who in the Oinoloth’s name sat this pissant little gutterlicker next to me?!” Shemeska whirled around to face Jeremo, jingling as she did from the veritable jewelers case worth of bracelets, earrings, necklaces and other adornments that she was adorned with.
Jeremo was actually taken aback by the situation, being that he hadn’t actually seated the King of the Crosstrade and the Merchant Most Excellent next to one another. He smiled and motioned her over disarmingly. Softly, the titan snickered, and this time the fiend noticed, glaring daggers back at the other woman.
“I have to wonder what he’s saying to her.” Clueless mused as he and the others at the table glanced towards the Factol and the fiend as they chatted softly.
“Doggie treats, a nice thick T-bone, and a squeaky chewtoy if she behaves at the people table like a good girl.” Toras said
Clueless nearly gagged on his wine as Toras ratcheted up his insults even more, barely hiding that one.
“After the party, ask me about some of the stuff that I’ve seen, and heard, out of that one. I think that you’ll find it amusing.” Verden said softly to Toras with a wink and a chuckle. Toras blushed and took her offered hand.
Jeremo and the Marauder bantered softly back and forth, with the Ring-Giver’s factol seeming to reassure her that the situation was not by design or intention. Fyrehowl perked her ears and tried to listen in on the conversation, though it seemed that they were using some manner of magic to keep their words concealed.
A few moments later Jeremo patted the arcanaloth’s shoulder, they exchanged smiles, and the fiend walked calmly back to her seat. Fyrehowl shrugged, stopped leaning forwards, and sat back down more comfortably in her chair, only to notice uncomfortably that Ylem was still blankly staring at her. She whimpered slightly, “I’d have preferred the Dust Mephit…”
The Marauder smiled at the other gentleman seated next to her, a well-dressed, pale golden skinned aasimar by the name of Spiral Hal’Oight. She cleared her throat and smiled at him again expectantly.
“Ah, my apologies my dear king.” Spiral said awkwardly as he rose to his feet and pulled out Shemeska’s chair for her, waited for her to sit down and then pushed her up to the table. She smiled back at him like she’d just given him a present.
“Hey! Watch where you’re sitting, you’re taking up…” Came the squeaky complaint of the Merchant Most Excellent as the Marauder scooted up to the table and starting moving the mephit’s tableware out of the way to make more room for herself.
*SMACK*
The echo of the backhand that the fiend slapped upside the mephit’s head rebounded around the room, drowning out the fiend’s guttural statement in infernal of, “Elemental vermin!”
Seamus picked himself up off the floor and climbed back into his chair, complaining loudly about “overblown, hussy fiends”. The Marauder wasn’t looking at the mephit when she backhanded him again, smacking Seamus off of his chair and onto the wall behind them, some fifteen feet distant; she was looking towards Zadara as she felt the mephit’s face distort from the force of the blow.
The Slayer of Fiends slowly slid down the wall, leaving the onlookers half expecting him to give off a squeak or leave a trail on the paneling as he slowly slumped to the ground.
“Was that really necessary?” The aasimar seated next to the King of the Crosstrade asked with some concern as Seamus staggered to his feet and slowly stumbled back towards his chair.
“Not only necessary my little golden lord, but pleasing. Rarely do the two coincide unless you’re in my line of work.” She said with her fangs slightly bared at the Titan. “Observe.”
Seamus had barely gotten halfway back to the table when the Marauder gently motioned with the fingers of her outstretched hand and an invisible force struck the mephit first in the gut, doubling him over, and then to the head, sending him sailing through the air to smack into the wall once more with an even louder, and wetter, crunch.
Across the room, Zadara snorted and patted the handle of her maul, itself probably double the size of the Marauder. Shemeska simply smiled back at her rival as she dismissed the last flickers of the telekinesis effect she had used to mercilessly pummel her former dinner partner. The mephit was out cold and slumped motionless at the base of the wall where she had hurled him.
“Anytime b*tch.” Shemeska said softly as she continued to glance over towards the Titan, making certain that her lip motions could be clearly read from where Zadara was sitting.
Back with the group, away from the public spectacle that the Marauder and Zadara were working on starting, Nisha was making faces at Ylem. The rogue modron was still blankly staring at Fyrehowl and every so often a new circular eyepiece would rotate out of a slot in its side and slip over its left eye like it was looking at the wayward lupinal like something in a zoo.
“Nisha, stop messing with the modron…” Florian said to the tiefling.
“Aaaaaahhh, blut ith…wait sorry, forgot to put my tongue back in my mouth,” Nisha said with a whine, “Let’s try this again. Awwwww, but its fuuuuun! I promise I won’t steal silverware if you let me!”
“Don’t pick on the modron.” Florian said.
“Go right ahead.” Fyrehowl said as she glanced awkwardly over at the barmy lawful exemplar.
“I swear this is like watching a little kid get told no on something and then going to ask their other parent…” Toras said with a resigned laugh, joined a moment later by the wood elf seated next to him who seemed to have taken a shine to the fighter.
Tristol meanwhile had struck up a fairly involved conversation with the other tiefling seated next to him, Alluvius Ruskin. There was something about the old tiefer that seemed somewhat familiar, though for the life of him, he couldn’t place what it was exactly. But, regardless of that nagging feeling of something familiar about her, they were chatting in fairly complex terms about the operation of portals and gates, and the difference between the two. Almost inevitably, the two of them were joined in the topic by Lissandra, also a mage and as much an expert on such matters as there existed in Sigil.
“So, bets on when the b*tch in a razorvine headdress gets into a fight with the titan?” Skalliska mused.
Clueless shook his head, “Not going to happen. They’re both too smart to do that in public. They’ll just get pissy with one another but it won’t go beyond that.”
“I don’t know, they keep glancing at one another across the room.” Fyrehowl said as she watched the pair shooting hateful stares at each other.
“Flirting.” Clueless said with a laugh.
Fyrehowl made a face like she was going to be sick, “Oh ick… Clueless, that’s just disgusting…”
“What? Shemeska is a yugoloth, and well, you know what they say about them and their gender, right?” Clueless was clearly just picking on the lupinal by that point, but it seemed to be lost on Fyrehowl nonetheless.
“No, I really don’t want to think about that. I seriously don’t want to start up speculation about what is or isn’t under her skirts. Are you honestly trying to make me sick?” Fyrehowl said with a queasy look playing across her muzzle.
“Yes, he is.” Nisha said, breaking from making faces at Ylem for a brief moment.
“Heh.” Fyrehowl said, relieved at least for that, “Still, it’s nasty. Talk about something else.” Clueless only laughed.
Once again, Jeremo seemed to anticipate just when his intervention was needed to restore some semblance of civility to his own party, given the fractious nature of some of the guests with one another. He cleared his throat and addressed the room as his servants began to bring out the first round of food for the evening’s meal.
“Allow me to become the center of attention for a bit as I share with you all another gift. This one is shared freely and carries no expectation of future reciprocation. After all, it’s just information; words really and nothing more. But, I do hope that it might serve to seed your conversations throughout the evenings based on what darks I spill before you.”
“Hmm, this ought to be good.” Clueless said as he turned to listen more closely.
“Better watch out Shemmy, Jeremo might steal your job and then you’ll have to call yourself the Queen of the Crosstrade. Uh oh, he’s even got a nicer crown than you.” Toras jabbed again at the fiend.
Jeremo smiled as he held up a large, flat stone. “Now, as many of you know, the Ring Givers, to whom I belong, recently gifted the city of Skeinheim in Ysgard to the exiled Takers.”
Bryn Ohm, the Guildmaster of the Innkeeper’s Guild snorted softly at the Jester’s mention of that gift. The bariaur had not departed Sigil with many of his former faction members, and many of them who had not departed Sigil for Ysgard felt that it was a slight on them all for their faction to have accepted the charity of others when they settled in Skeinheim.
“Thank you Bryn…” Jeremo said before he continued, “But from a number of the former members of old Rowan’s faction, I managed to find out a number of things regarding the Duke’s involvement in the Faction War. It’s all on here. A record made by Darkwood himself out of simple ego during the full swing of the war.”
A ripple of murmurs and commentary moved around the room before Jeremo activated the stone and let his guests listen to the distinctive and much hated voice of the late Factol of the Takers detail his instigation of almost every stage of the Faction War. While certain members of the audience had likely already been aware of the information, it had never been made public, or in such great and personal detail.
“I’ll be donating the stone to the Civic Festhall at the end of the week if anyone would like to give it a second listen.” Jeremo said as he put the stone down and picked up a large yellow apple.
The Natterer took a large bite out of it, chewed and swallowed as he panned the crowd to focus on one of the lesser Golden Lords, a man by the name of Wei Ming Lee, an apothecary on a grand scale, and a seller of potions he claimed could make the old young again.
“My good acquaintance, the honorable Golden Lord Wei Minh Lee, the master of youth and proxy of the Lord of Longevity, Shou-Hsing… Thor says hello.”
The white bearded and silk robed Golden Lord who sat several chairs down from Estevan nearly choked on his wine and seemed pale at an otherwise puzzling comment from the Jester. Otherwise he made no other reaction one way or the other and didn’t say anything in retort, but his eyes were already glancing over towards the exit.
Jeremo moved on as he finished the apple.
“Now, I heard some other things from the Takers in Ysgard aside from what I’ve already said. One of them in particular had a long and detailed conversation with me a little while ago, a relatively new convert to the factol and a former burgler and forger. A githzerai by the name of Mantello the Jeweler.” Jeremo said in an overly cheerful voice. Almost immediately he had the Marauder’s attention and she was making motions across her throat for him to shut the hell up while he was still ahead. Well, Jeremo saw her and kept right on talking with the same grin plastered across his face.
“Oh, this should be good. I remember Mantello. He and you seemed quite close…” Zadara said openly, just loud enough for her rival to hear. Shemeska snarled back at the titan with a loud hiss.
“Mantello mentioned, oh just a bit, his former business partner, and lover, the King of the Crosstrade. He wondered quite openly how you’ve been passing your time since he left you, and if you’ve spent your nights, and I quote, ‘cold and alone, pining for your former lover to grace your august presence between the sheets.’” Jeremo prattled on while the King of the Crosstrade got up from her chair and waved her arms wildly for him to stop, making cutting motions repeatedly across her throat. At the next table over, Zadara was starting to laugh.
“And then he went on to describe what the two of you did in bed,” Jeremo said with a laugh, raising his eyebrows a few times to insinuate any number of lewd activities without actually listing them. “To start, Mantello said that you particularly liked it when he…”
“SHUT UP!!!! ENOUGH!!” Shemeska was standing on top of the table and screaming at the top of her lungs as she stomped her feet and kicked at the dishes and table decorations.
“Hells does that woman know how to pitch a freaking fit…” Florian said with amusement.
“I didn’t come here to be insulted in front of half of the city, and all of the city than frankly matters. And unless you intend to have your tongue on my plate for a main course you can shut your nattering mouth now Jeremo. Do not splay the details of my love life around in front of your damned guests.” Shemeska snarled at the Jester as she climbed down from the tabletop and retook her seat, though when she put her hands down on the arm rests of the chair, the wood was beginning to blacken and singe.
But, while the Marauder was trying to calm down, Zadara was laughing to the point of having difficultly breathing, “Details were hardly the only thing splayed about apparently!”
“Oh shut up you oversized harpy! Don’t you know when to shut up?! Or has the coin gone to your undersized brain like how we can all tell its gone to your oversized *ss?” The Marauder was back on her feet, flecks of violet flame spurting from the corners of her eyes that were already glowing with rage.
Beside her, Spiral Hal’Oight cringed and said nothing, his own frustration with Jeremo’s rather public nattering having vanished when the fiend seated next to him had begun to snarl, growl, and smell of brimstone.
Zadara calmly smiled with a sense of triumph as her rival made a public fool of herself. She sipped from her goblet of wine and responded mockingly to the fiend, “Bark. Bark. Bark.”
The sound of breaking crystal and splashing wine rang above the clamor of the crowd as the Marauder snarled something in a guttural tongue and shoved a hand in the titan’s direction. Zadara’s goblet exploded in her hand, showering her and those seated around her with wine and broken crystal. She had only the time to register the attack before a second spell was hurled at her, more snarled and spit out than properly intoned and cast. Whatever it was, there was no apparent effect upon the titan aside from a stutter and a cough.
“F*ck this! To hell with you all! Kiss my *ss Zadara!” The Marauder screamed as she bolted for the door and ripped her stole out of the hands of one of Jeremo’s servants on her way. Her shrieks of rage continued to echo down the hall as Zadara came to her senses about the same time that the rest of the room fully registered what had just happened.
“Holy cr*p…” Tristol’s eyes were wide as he whispered the intonations to allow him to view any lingering traces of the spells that had just been cast in the Marauder and Titan’s altercation.
“What? What did she actually cast?” Clueless asked with concern and alarm.
Everyone seemed taken back by the public brawl the two women had just been involved in. Even Ylem seemed shocked and dismayed, and Nisha was no longer making faces at him either.
Tristol blinked in surprise. “She tried to kill her.” He whispered to the others, “She threw some type of death spell at her that I’m not entirely familiar with. Zadara was lucky, that’s all I can say.”
“Well sh*t.” Toras said, realizing just how quickly and how far things were escalating.
“B*tch! How dare you! Get back here!” Zadara bellowed as she stood to her feet and brandished her maul in one smooth motion before she ran for the door, chasing after the Yugoloth.
Jeremo adjusted his crown and looked across the room, his eyes going from Seamusxanthuszemus’s prone and limp body, to the broken fragments of Zadara’s goblet, to where the two powerful women were apparently about to bring their public spat outside. “Well… this wasn’t what I’d been aiming for. So much for well made plans…”
“Everyone remain calm, they’ll work things out and there’s nothing to worry among the rest of us here. My apologies for the rudeness of some people…” Jeremo hastily but genuinely said to his guests before bolting over to confer with his guards away from the party and out of earshot of the crowd.
“Umm… guys. They aren’t going to work anything out, I think someone needs to actually get involved before…” Fyrehowl said before being cut off by the dim echo of an explosion and flash of light from the hallway.
“…as I was saying…” She said as the sound of more spells erupting outside the Palace could be heard.
“We can come back to the party, but they’ll level a block or two if they keep going after each other. And I’ll be damned if I let the Marauder get away with murder.” Clueless said as he made for the exit.
“Come on Zadara!” Toras said jokingly before immediately feeling guilty for saying it, with a half dozen people glaring at him. “Ok, sorry, poor taste…”
The poor tasted jest was forgotten as the group ran for the exit along with perhaps five other concerned persons. A minute or two later they had managed to run through the veritable mazework of passageways leading out of the interior of the Palace of the Jester and into the lantern-lit courtyard.
“Cr*p…” Tristol blurted out as they walked out onto the flame scorched flagstones of the courtyard and saw what was there waiting for them.
That there had been a spellbattle was obvious, and the ground was pitted and scarred by fire and acid while the air was hung with the pungent stench of ozone. The corpse of one of the Marauder’s guards was splayed and broken into pulp near the entrance of the Palace, probably killed by a single blow from the titan’s hammer. But that was not what fixed their attention. Rather, they all stared in numb shock at Zadara’s sprawled and motionless body in the center of the courtyard. Her hammer lay beside her, the head smeared a brilliant scarlet and the Marauder was nowhere to be seen.
The Factol rubbed his hands together and glanced across the crowd once more, making eye contact with many of those present, and smiling or otherwise giving some cue that he had noticed them. And, once again, he spoke.
“Many of you know me, many of you have worked with me before on various occasions. Some of you may even not like me, and I hope to smooth over any such feelings this evening. However, for a plurality of you here tonight, we don’t much know each other. Perhaps a familiar name on paper but never having spoken; perhaps even less familiarity than that, and for all of those cases I want to get to know you more and I hope to give all of you a better acquaintance with myself. This banquet and all of tonight’s festivities are for you, and for that purpose.”
Jeremo paused as a number of people in the crowd voiced their thanks and support for their invite and his efforts to be social. After the chink of wine glasses had ceased, he continued.
“Now, I’ve been in possession of the Palace of the Jester for some time now, but I’ve always had only a very small hand in its role as a place of commerce, politics and intrigue. I’ve much more recently found myself in command of the Ring-Givers. Some might even call me a factol…” Jeremo intentionally paused at that, letting the disquiet of the room voice itself in mutters and whispers.
As of yet, he had not officially declared himself the Factol of the Ring-Givers, nor the sect an official Faction within Sigil, based in the Palace of the Jester. Whether such a decision and declaration would cross The Lady’s ban upon the factions was an open question, and Jeremo seemed to be riding that line, but not quite crossing it.
“Such a declaration, if I do make it, is not for tonight. We’ll save that for the next time perhaps. You’ll have to wait and see I guess…” He said with a wink and a laugh as the tension and uncertainty in the room faded back to a dull whisper.
“But, for this evening I’ve placed you all in the open arms of my hospitality, and as a good and proper host, I’ve seen to it that you will all be both entertained, well fed, and well watered, be it wine or whatever else you prefer to your tastes. I won’t be too discerning, but you may if that’s your pleasure.” Jeremo bowed with a flourish and tipped his crown to his guests before motioning to a few dozen servants.
“Appetizers?” Fyrehowl asked curiously as two servants approached their table, one with a list and a pen, and the other with a tray of small boxes.
“Drinks?” Clueless said in turn.
“Butternut squash?” Nisha said, breaking the train of thought.
“No, I think… butternut squash?” Tristol said with a weird look over towards the grinning Xaositect.
“Gifts…” Skalliska said, “The whole Ring Giver shtick. You give people presents and it gets you respect, owed favors and eventually the multiverse sees to it that you get paid back ten times over. At least that’s their claim on the matter.”
“So its entirely selfish?” Toras asked.
“Not really. At least according to their philosophy the ‘getting back’ part is incidental, and the giving has to be gracious and honest for it to work.” Skalliska replied.
“So he’s just a nice guy then. I think I like him.” Florian said.
“Heh. That’s the point of this all.” The kobold said a moment before she smiled and accepted the small box handed to her by one of the Natterer’s servants.
And so it went as Jeremo’s servants walked about the room, handing similar small boxes to each of the nearly three hundred guests, and, at the same time, taking requests for drinks. The Jester himself had taken a seat once more upon his throne and was giddy with anticipation while his guests seemed puzzled and curious about what he might have given them.
“Now, as I’m sure some of you may have noticed already, the boxes are locked by magic and won’t open till I’ve given the command word. So be patient, let your assumptions develop, let your imaginations run wild, and we’ll get to that soon enough.” Jeremo said with a grin.
“Awww…” Came a sullen whisper from Nisha.
Tristol looked over at her as she shook the box and seemed on the verge of gnawing on it, “Left the lockpicks at home, right?”
“…yes…” She said before patiently putting it down and staring at it intently.
“Any ideas on what it might be?” The mage asked her.
“Not a clue, and it doesn’t weigh anything at all.” She replied.
“Really?” Tristol said as he lightly hefted hers and compared it to the weight of his own. Sure enough, the tiefling’s was much lighter in weight.
“Maybe he customized it for everyone? Yours feels lighter than mine. Odd.” He said as he handed her back the box.
Jeremo waited a few minutes before continuing, “Before we proceed with anything else, I simply wanted to give a warm welcome to those of you that I know better perhaps than others. There are quite a few of you, so I can’t promise that I’ll say something to all of you. This is just whimsy, and the names that leap to my mind as I’m saying them.”
The next dozen minutes were spent as The Lady’s Jester recited a laundry list of names of Sigil’s elite, wealthy and otherwise influential. Guildmasters, highpriests, former faction highups and more, were among those he mentioned and singled out.
“Sigil’s representative within the Planar Trade Consortium, Estevan, good to see you made it instead of being busy with paperwork all evening as I swear you must too often be. Never do see you out and about; a shame I see you so rarely.” Jeremo said to the blue-skinned ogremagi who occupied a chair at one of the three banquet tables.
“Notice something? Jeremo put Estevan, Zadara and Shemeska at different tables.” Clueless pointed out, “And A’kin is about as far away from the latter as is possible…”
“Good. Otherwise they’d complain about whose chair was better or who got to sit where. It’d be a nightmare.” Skalliska said, obviously having seen such an instance before, if the tone of her voice gave any inference.
“She’d probably try to accidentally spill stuff on A’kin if she was near him. Oh hell, who am I kidding? She’d throw a fit and go after him…” Florian said.
“A’kin doesn’t deserve it either, he’s a nice guy. Say what you will, but I like him.” Nisha said with a grin as she pointed up to the Factol Karan doll in her hair.
Jeremo continued to rattle off names, “My personal thanks Lissandra, to the work of your people as of late. They’ve been a great help in plumbing many of the portals in the upper floors of the Palace that had, till recently, been largely unmapped since the Tempest.”
The young Torillian wizardress seated next to Clueless smiled at the Jester as he called out to her from across the room.
“Ah… my favorite arms dealer in all of Sigil, Spiral Hal’Oight. Tell me, who pays more, the Baatezu? The Tanar’ri? The ‘loths?”
“All of my sales are to legitimate buyers! I don’t sell arms to anyone that doesn’t need them or shouldn’t have them. I don’t honestly know what you’re getting on about Jeremo.” The young Golden Lord shouted back to the Jester.
“Suuuure you don’t. How’s it feel to be a puppet to the ‘loths and the archons both? I’m sure it pays well though.” Jeremo muttered under his breath.
“What’s so great about arms?! I sell ALL the body parts!” Came the sudden and confused shout from Seamusxanthuszemus.
“A’kin, the friendliest fiend I know, and perhaps the better half of Sigil’s pair of resident Yugoloths. You at least know the meaning of punctuality, and I find you much more pleasant to deal with, even if I sodding can’t figure out what’s up with you. You’re always pleasant, I’ll grant you that.” Jeremo said towards where A’kin sat jovially talking in a low voice with the people seated around him. The turquoise, black, and gold velvet robed Friendly Fiend smiled and waved back towards the Jester before going back to his ongoing conversation.
“And we’re still waiting on your bitter half to show up…she’s late…” Jeremo once again muttered.
“My friend Fell, it’s good to see you in attendance this evening.” Jeremo spoke and waved to the fallen Dabus who sat slightly apart from the others at his table, those seated around him having moved as far away as possible.
“Oh, now that’s just cool.” Nisha said as she watched the words that Jeremo spoke to Fell take the form of glowing, dabus-like rebuses above his head, seemingly emerging from his tarnished, off-kilter crown. “Can you make me one of those whatever he has Tristol?”
“Illusions…” Tristol muttered, though he had to admit mentally to himself that it was a rather nifty thing for the Jester to do, considering what Fell was and all. A moment later and the tiefling wasn’t pleading for him to make her a rebus speaking whatever it was that Jeremo had, but rather she was making faces at Ylem the modron who was still blankly staring at Fyrehowl, much to the lupinal’s disquietude.
“Lady’s Grace to you too Fell…” Jeremo said to himself, again in a soft whisper, and making sure than his words did not manifest in rebus above his head. “Lady’s Grace to you, be it a curse or a blessing Fell…”
Over the next few minutes, Jeremo called out and mentioned a dozen or so other persons and bantered with them as his servants brought out any requested drinks to the attendees of the party. As soon as that mundane business had been attended to, he gave his guests several more moments to taste their liquid pleasures and then he spoke again.
“And, on that note, you’ll find that your gifts are open. I hope you enjoy. A few of them are personalized to the receiver, though with the simple amount of people here tonight I could do that for all of you.” Jeremo waved his hands to encourage everyone to open their gift, and his expression was like that of a cat who’d just been given a bowl full of cream; he was enjoying himself greatly.
Almost immediately the room was filled with gasps and commotion as people opened their boxes and discovered what was inside each of them. Collectively, the group looked at one another, shrugged and opened their gifts to much the same response as the rest of the room.
“Oh! Oh my!” Florian said as she held up an emerald the size of a hen’s egg.
“How much money does this guy have?!” Toras exclaimed, hastily adding, “Not that I’m complaining!” He held a yellow topaz of equal or larger size in his own hand.
“YES!!!!” Came Nisha’s response as she grabbed something from her own giftbox before tossing the box aside, jumping up and dancing for a few seconds of glee.
Clueless looked over at her with bemusement as he admired his own reflection in the smooth surface of a polished opal the size of his fist. “Someone’s happy with what they got, eh Nisha?”
“No no no, I didn’t get a gemstone. I got a treasure map of sorts. I get to go find mine and pretend I’m stealing it.” The tiefling was giggling with glee as she handed the tiny, folded map to Factol Karan’s open hands poking up out of her hair.
Tristol laughed, “Well, I think someone noticed your past breaking and entering attempt…”
“Probably. Nothing in this place goes on without him knowing, but honestly, he’s just a genuinely nice person from what I can tell.” She replied, still jubilant and with her tail smacking back and forth against her chair in excitement.
“He must be. He must have just dropped a few million jink on his guests on that alone.” Fyrehowl said with a note of disbelief to her voice.
Jeremo was standing again, seemingly unable to actually sit still for more than a moment. Between that and his penchant for speaking, it wasn’t any surprise that he was known as ‘The Natterer’. He seemed honestly happy at the responses his gifts had garnered, and he humbly brushed off most of the appreciative ‘thank you’s that he received from those in the crowd seated near him.
“I thought that you might appreciate that small gift from me to you. It’s a little thing, both for old friends, new acquaintances, and perhaps a rekindling of relationships gone sour in times past. And so welcome, all of you. And now I…”
Jeremo’s speech and welcome was suddenly and abruptly interrupted by the crash of the banquet hall entrance doors flinging themselves open and slamming into the walls they were hinged to. The assembled crowd turned as one to look at the smug, grinning face of the fiend and her entourage who stood centered in the open doorway, a crackle of dispersing magic still flickering from her single, outstretched hand.
“Starting without me?” The Marauder’s voice was elegant, presumptive and absurdly petulant, as she stood framed by the gilded entryway. She was dressed in a glimmering blue evening gown whose material resembled the scales of a sapphire dragon, and for most appearances it may as well have been something she dipped herself in, such was the snug tightness of the fit. The King of the Crosstrade was also draped in a long golden stole of a loose, silken material that was wrapped about her neck and hung across her shoulders to hang loosely at her sides and trail upon the floor.
“My darling Jeremo, you know you simply cannot have a social event of this size and prestige without me in attendance. But, as we all know, it wouldn’t do with me arriving with everyone else. That would be far too mundane and gauche. So here I am, fashionably late.” Shemeska said, the level of arrogance almost dripping like poison off her tongue.
Somehow Jeremo looked neither upset nor surprised at the fiend’s late arrival, and as she strolled into the room and made for her seat, it was anyone’s best guess if he had been aware of her impending presence before she had kicked the doors in. He managed to remain calm and even pleased that she had arrived, and not a single harsh comment passed his lips. Still, a puckish light seemed to flicker in his eyes like this was all something that he’d frankly hoped for as he ran a hand through his fussy blond hair.
“We’ve all been awaiting your presence with bated breath my darling. But, now that you’re here, my compliments on your attire for the evening.” Jeremo said, putting on at least the polite pretense of cordiality.
“You’re too kind Jeremo. I like you, I really do. Now, be a gracious host to an honored guest and escort me to my seat?” The fiend held out her arm and waited for the Jester to personally lead her to her seat.
Clueless frowned over towards the Marauder’s direction, “And once again everyone just rolls over when she tells them to. Doesn’t anyone in this damn city have a backbone when it comes to that b*tch?”
Lissandra leaned in closer to Clueless, “Don’t worry. If I know Jeremo at all, he’ll see to it that she’s paid back tenfold for embarrassing him at his own celebration.”
“One can only hope…” Clueless said grudgingly.
Jeremo led the Marauder towards her table, pointed out her chair and was abruptly handed her stole. “Anything else Madame?”
“Hmm….” The fiendess pondered for a moment before batting her eyelashes and extending her hand to the Jester’s lips for him to kiss. He politely gave a forced smile and kissed the knuckle on her third finger before walking away and letting her take her seat. About halfway back to his own throne, he handed her gaudy stole to one of his servants to take away till after the party was over.
“A pity. Normally they pay someone to make sure the dogs stay confined to the kennel out back during these things…” The Titan said under her breath as she looked vaguely in Jeremo’s direction. If Shemeska heard it, she made no response as she walked to her chair.
“Oh no! The b*itch and the titan are wearing the same dress! One of them’s gonna have to go home and change now! Byebye shemmy!” Toras muttered in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh if only that were the case.” Clueless said to the fighter, noting that while both the fiend and the titan were both wearing some shade of blue, both were wearing entirely unique attires for the evening, and so the normal rules of such things weren’t going to raise their ugly heads for the current event. A pity.
“How does she walk in that dress?” Florian asked. “No, seriously. What mold did they pour her in and then paint that dress on her for tonight.”
“You can’t seriously tell me that you’re jealous.” Skalliska said over to Florian.
“Right right, says the woman without breasts.” Florian replied.
“Mammals…” Skalliska sniped back.
Nisha rolled her eyes and said nothing.
“They’re fake.” Tristol said softly without looking over at the Marauder.
“Excuse me?” Florian asked.
“They’re fake. She’s an arcanaloth. They can shapechange at will into pretty much anything from a flea to a dragon. So, in a manner of speaking, they’re fake.” He clarified, still not willing to look in the ‘loth’s direction when he was talking about her.
Fyrehowl smirked, “I still don’t feel much better. She’s like a walking stereotype of every evil sorceress you’ve ever heard of. Powerful, b*tchy, vain, and with big t*ts.”
“And judging from that dress, she likes people to look at them.” Clueless said with a smirk. “But, on a more serious note…one word: exemplar. You should know Fyrehowl, you’re one too, just a different flavor entirely. They don’t just reflect a concept, they –are- a concept in a way. So yeah, she pretty much is a mix of every evil sorceress you’ve ever heard of, just maybe more arrogant, and very much in need of a shave. And before I die, I’m going to see her shaved bald.”
“And distribute a sensory stone of it to anyone who wants it.” Florian added.
“I’ll help.” Toras said.
“That’s fine, but I’d like to be the one doing the shaving…” Clueless said with a wicked grin.
As the party chattered amongst themselves, the King of the Crosstrade was busy dismissing her normal entourage of toadies and guards.
“Do be polite and wait outside till the party is over. Trust me dears, I’ll be fine. Jeremo’s a fine gentleman. He won’t try to take advantage of me. Though I can’t say I won’t try the same of him.” Shemeska said with a laugh to her collection of tiefling groomer-guards and they quickly excused themselves and left as she walked to her seat.
“Very nice indeed. You have excellent taste Jeremo, just as I do and… oh you’ve got to be f*cking kidding me…” The Marauder paused and changed her tone of voice abruptly as she looked at who was to be seated next to her: Seamusxanthuszemus.
“I could have saved you jink on the scales for that dress, I’ve got a special on drake hide this week, only slightly moldy!” The Dust Mephit said in a high-pitched voice as he looked up at the fiend, the tablecloth stuffed like a napkin into his shirt’s collar, and holding his oversized silverware in his hands like a kid at the adult table.
“…what the f*ck is this?! Who in the Oinoloth’s name sat this pissant little gutterlicker next to me?!” Shemeska whirled around to face Jeremo, jingling as she did from the veritable jewelers case worth of bracelets, earrings, necklaces and other adornments that she was adorned with.
Jeremo was actually taken aback by the situation, being that he hadn’t actually seated the King of the Crosstrade and the Merchant Most Excellent next to one another. He smiled and motioned her over disarmingly. Softly, the titan snickered, and this time the fiend noticed, glaring daggers back at the other woman.
“I have to wonder what he’s saying to her.” Clueless mused as he and the others at the table glanced towards the Factol and the fiend as they chatted softly.
“Doggie treats, a nice thick T-bone, and a squeaky chewtoy if she behaves at the people table like a good girl.” Toras said
Clueless nearly gagged on his wine as Toras ratcheted up his insults even more, barely hiding that one.
“After the party, ask me about some of the stuff that I’ve seen, and heard, out of that one. I think that you’ll find it amusing.” Verden said softly to Toras with a wink and a chuckle. Toras blushed and took her offered hand.
Jeremo and the Marauder bantered softly back and forth, with the Ring-Giver’s factol seeming to reassure her that the situation was not by design or intention. Fyrehowl perked her ears and tried to listen in on the conversation, though it seemed that they were using some manner of magic to keep their words concealed.
A few moments later Jeremo patted the arcanaloth’s shoulder, they exchanged smiles, and the fiend walked calmly back to her seat. Fyrehowl shrugged, stopped leaning forwards, and sat back down more comfortably in her chair, only to notice uncomfortably that Ylem was still blankly staring at her. She whimpered slightly, “I’d have preferred the Dust Mephit…”
The Marauder smiled at the other gentleman seated next to her, a well-dressed, pale golden skinned aasimar by the name of Spiral Hal’Oight. She cleared her throat and smiled at him again expectantly.
“Ah, my apologies my dear king.” Spiral said awkwardly as he rose to his feet and pulled out Shemeska’s chair for her, waited for her to sit down and then pushed her up to the table. She smiled back at him like she’d just given him a present.
“Hey! Watch where you’re sitting, you’re taking up…” Came the squeaky complaint of the Merchant Most Excellent as the Marauder scooted up to the table and starting moving the mephit’s tableware out of the way to make more room for herself.
*SMACK*
The echo of the backhand that the fiend slapped upside the mephit’s head rebounded around the room, drowning out the fiend’s guttural statement in infernal of, “Elemental vermin!”
Seamus picked himself up off the floor and climbed back into his chair, complaining loudly about “overblown, hussy fiends”. The Marauder wasn’t looking at the mephit when she backhanded him again, smacking Seamus off of his chair and onto the wall behind them, some fifteen feet distant; she was looking towards Zadara as she felt the mephit’s face distort from the force of the blow.
The Slayer of Fiends slowly slid down the wall, leaving the onlookers half expecting him to give off a squeak or leave a trail on the paneling as he slowly slumped to the ground.
“Was that really necessary?” The aasimar seated next to the King of the Crosstrade asked with some concern as Seamus staggered to his feet and slowly stumbled back towards his chair.
“Not only necessary my little golden lord, but pleasing. Rarely do the two coincide unless you’re in my line of work.” She said with her fangs slightly bared at the Titan. “Observe.”
Seamus had barely gotten halfway back to the table when the Marauder gently motioned with the fingers of her outstretched hand and an invisible force struck the mephit first in the gut, doubling him over, and then to the head, sending him sailing through the air to smack into the wall once more with an even louder, and wetter, crunch.
Across the room, Zadara snorted and patted the handle of her maul, itself probably double the size of the Marauder. Shemeska simply smiled back at her rival as she dismissed the last flickers of the telekinesis effect she had used to mercilessly pummel her former dinner partner. The mephit was out cold and slumped motionless at the base of the wall where she had hurled him.
“Anytime b*tch.” Shemeska said softly as she continued to glance over towards the Titan, making certain that her lip motions could be clearly read from where Zadara was sitting.
Back with the group, away from the public spectacle that the Marauder and Zadara were working on starting, Nisha was making faces at Ylem. The rogue modron was still blankly staring at Fyrehowl and every so often a new circular eyepiece would rotate out of a slot in its side and slip over its left eye like it was looking at the wayward lupinal like something in a zoo.
“Nisha, stop messing with the modron…” Florian said to the tiefling.
“Aaaaaahhh, blut ith…wait sorry, forgot to put my tongue back in my mouth,” Nisha said with a whine, “Let’s try this again. Awwwww, but its fuuuuun! I promise I won’t steal silverware if you let me!”
“Don’t pick on the modron.” Florian said.
“Go right ahead.” Fyrehowl said as she glanced awkwardly over at the barmy lawful exemplar.
“I swear this is like watching a little kid get told no on something and then going to ask their other parent…” Toras said with a resigned laugh, joined a moment later by the wood elf seated next to him who seemed to have taken a shine to the fighter.
Tristol meanwhile had struck up a fairly involved conversation with the other tiefling seated next to him, Alluvius Ruskin. There was something about the old tiefer that seemed somewhat familiar, though for the life of him, he couldn’t place what it was exactly. But, regardless of that nagging feeling of something familiar about her, they were chatting in fairly complex terms about the operation of portals and gates, and the difference between the two. Almost inevitably, the two of them were joined in the topic by Lissandra, also a mage and as much an expert on such matters as there existed in Sigil.
“So, bets on when the b*tch in a razorvine headdress gets into a fight with the titan?” Skalliska mused.
Clueless shook his head, “Not going to happen. They’re both too smart to do that in public. They’ll just get pissy with one another but it won’t go beyond that.”
“I don’t know, they keep glancing at one another across the room.” Fyrehowl said as she watched the pair shooting hateful stares at each other.
“Flirting.” Clueless said with a laugh.
Fyrehowl made a face like she was going to be sick, “Oh ick… Clueless, that’s just disgusting…”
“What? Shemeska is a yugoloth, and well, you know what they say about them and their gender, right?” Clueless was clearly just picking on the lupinal by that point, but it seemed to be lost on Fyrehowl nonetheless.
“No, I really don’t want to think about that. I seriously don’t want to start up speculation about what is or isn’t under her skirts. Are you honestly trying to make me sick?” Fyrehowl said with a queasy look playing across her muzzle.
“Yes, he is.” Nisha said, breaking from making faces at Ylem for a brief moment.
“Heh.” Fyrehowl said, relieved at least for that, “Still, it’s nasty. Talk about something else.” Clueless only laughed.
Once again, Jeremo seemed to anticipate just when his intervention was needed to restore some semblance of civility to his own party, given the fractious nature of some of the guests with one another. He cleared his throat and addressed the room as his servants began to bring out the first round of food for the evening’s meal.
“Allow me to become the center of attention for a bit as I share with you all another gift. This one is shared freely and carries no expectation of future reciprocation. After all, it’s just information; words really and nothing more. But, I do hope that it might serve to seed your conversations throughout the evenings based on what darks I spill before you.”
“Hmm, this ought to be good.” Clueless said as he turned to listen more closely.
“Better watch out Shemmy, Jeremo might steal your job and then you’ll have to call yourself the Queen of the Crosstrade. Uh oh, he’s even got a nicer crown than you.” Toras jabbed again at the fiend.
Jeremo smiled as he held up a large, flat stone. “Now, as many of you know, the Ring Givers, to whom I belong, recently gifted the city of Skeinheim in Ysgard to the exiled Takers.”
Bryn Ohm, the Guildmaster of the Innkeeper’s Guild snorted softly at the Jester’s mention of that gift. The bariaur had not departed Sigil with many of his former faction members, and many of them who had not departed Sigil for Ysgard felt that it was a slight on them all for their faction to have accepted the charity of others when they settled in Skeinheim.
“Thank you Bryn…” Jeremo said before he continued, “But from a number of the former members of old Rowan’s faction, I managed to find out a number of things regarding the Duke’s involvement in the Faction War. It’s all on here. A record made by Darkwood himself out of simple ego during the full swing of the war.”
A ripple of murmurs and commentary moved around the room before Jeremo activated the stone and let his guests listen to the distinctive and much hated voice of the late Factol of the Takers detail his instigation of almost every stage of the Faction War. While certain members of the audience had likely already been aware of the information, it had never been made public, or in such great and personal detail.
“I’ll be donating the stone to the Civic Festhall at the end of the week if anyone would like to give it a second listen.” Jeremo said as he put the stone down and picked up a large yellow apple.
The Natterer took a large bite out of it, chewed and swallowed as he panned the crowd to focus on one of the lesser Golden Lords, a man by the name of Wei Ming Lee, an apothecary on a grand scale, and a seller of potions he claimed could make the old young again.
“My good acquaintance, the honorable Golden Lord Wei Minh Lee, the master of youth and proxy of the Lord of Longevity, Shou-Hsing… Thor says hello.”
The white bearded and silk robed Golden Lord who sat several chairs down from Estevan nearly choked on his wine and seemed pale at an otherwise puzzling comment from the Jester. Otherwise he made no other reaction one way or the other and didn’t say anything in retort, but his eyes were already glancing over towards the exit.
Jeremo moved on as he finished the apple.
“Now, I heard some other things from the Takers in Ysgard aside from what I’ve already said. One of them in particular had a long and detailed conversation with me a little while ago, a relatively new convert to the factol and a former burgler and forger. A githzerai by the name of Mantello the Jeweler.” Jeremo said in an overly cheerful voice. Almost immediately he had the Marauder’s attention and she was making motions across her throat for him to shut the hell up while he was still ahead. Well, Jeremo saw her and kept right on talking with the same grin plastered across his face.
“Oh, this should be good. I remember Mantello. He and you seemed quite close…” Zadara said openly, just loud enough for her rival to hear. Shemeska snarled back at the titan with a loud hiss.
“Mantello mentioned, oh just a bit, his former business partner, and lover, the King of the Crosstrade. He wondered quite openly how you’ve been passing your time since he left you, and if you’ve spent your nights, and I quote, ‘cold and alone, pining for your former lover to grace your august presence between the sheets.’” Jeremo prattled on while the King of the Crosstrade got up from her chair and waved her arms wildly for him to stop, making cutting motions repeatedly across her throat. At the next table over, Zadara was starting to laugh.
“And then he went on to describe what the two of you did in bed,” Jeremo said with a laugh, raising his eyebrows a few times to insinuate any number of lewd activities without actually listing them. “To start, Mantello said that you particularly liked it when he…”
“SHUT UP!!!! ENOUGH!!” Shemeska was standing on top of the table and screaming at the top of her lungs as she stomped her feet and kicked at the dishes and table decorations.
“Hells does that woman know how to pitch a freaking fit…” Florian said with amusement.
“I didn’t come here to be insulted in front of half of the city, and all of the city than frankly matters. And unless you intend to have your tongue on my plate for a main course you can shut your nattering mouth now Jeremo. Do not splay the details of my love life around in front of your damned guests.” Shemeska snarled at the Jester as she climbed down from the tabletop and retook her seat, though when she put her hands down on the arm rests of the chair, the wood was beginning to blacken and singe.
But, while the Marauder was trying to calm down, Zadara was laughing to the point of having difficultly breathing, “Details were hardly the only thing splayed about apparently!”
“Oh shut up you oversized harpy! Don’t you know when to shut up?! Or has the coin gone to your undersized brain like how we can all tell its gone to your oversized *ss?” The Marauder was back on her feet, flecks of violet flame spurting from the corners of her eyes that were already glowing with rage.
Beside her, Spiral Hal’Oight cringed and said nothing, his own frustration with Jeremo’s rather public nattering having vanished when the fiend seated next to him had begun to snarl, growl, and smell of brimstone.
Zadara calmly smiled with a sense of triumph as her rival made a public fool of herself. She sipped from her goblet of wine and responded mockingly to the fiend, “Bark. Bark. Bark.”
The sound of breaking crystal and splashing wine rang above the clamor of the crowd as the Marauder snarled something in a guttural tongue and shoved a hand in the titan’s direction. Zadara’s goblet exploded in her hand, showering her and those seated around her with wine and broken crystal. She had only the time to register the attack before a second spell was hurled at her, more snarled and spit out than properly intoned and cast. Whatever it was, there was no apparent effect upon the titan aside from a stutter and a cough.
“F*ck this! To hell with you all! Kiss my *ss Zadara!” The Marauder screamed as she bolted for the door and ripped her stole out of the hands of one of Jeremo’s servants on her way. Her shrieks of rage continued to echo down the hall as Zadara came to her senses about the same time that the rest of the room fully registered what had just happened.
“Holy cr*p…” Tristol’s eyes were wide as he whispered the intonations to allow him to view any lingering traces of the spells that had just been cast in the Marauder and Titan’s altercation.
“What? What did she actually cast?” Clueless asked with concern and alarm.
Everyone seemed taken back by the public brawl the two women had just been involved in. Even Ylem seemed shocked and dismayed, and Nisha was no longer making faces at him either.
Tristol blinked in surprise. “She tried to kill her.” He whispered to the others, “She threw some type of death spell at her that I’m not entirely familiar with. Zadara was lucky, that’s all I can say.”
“Well sh*t.” Toras said, realizing just how quickly and how far things were escalating.
“B*tch! How dare you! Get back here!” Zadara bellowed as she stood to her feet and brandished her maul in one smooth motion before she ran for the door, chasing after the Yugoloth.
Jeremo adjusted his crown and looked across the room, his eyes going from Seamusxanthuszemus’s prone and limp body, to the broken fragments of Zadara’s goblet, to where the two powerful women were apparently about to bring their public spat outside. “Well… this wasn’t what I’d been aiming for. So much for well made plans…”
“Everyone remain calm, they’ll work things out and there’s nothing to worry among the rest of us here. My apologies for the rudeness of some people…” Jeremo hastily but genuinely said to his guests before bolting over to confer with his guards away from the party and out of earshot of the crowd.
“Umm… guys. They aren’t going to work anything out, I think someone needs to actually get involved before…” Fyrehowl said before being cut off by the dim echo of an explosion and flash of light from the hallway.
“…as I was saying…” She said as the sound of more spells erupting outside the Palace could be heard.
“We can come back to the party, but they’ll level a block or two if they keep going after each other. And I’ll be damned if I let the Marauder get away with murder.” Clueless said as he made for the exit.
“Come on Zadara!” Toras said jokingly before immediately feeling guilty for saying it, with a half dozen people glaring at him. “Ok, sorry, poor taste…”
The poor tasted jest was forgotten as the group ran for the exit along with perhaps five other concerned persons. A minute or two later they had managed to run through the veritable mazework of passageways leading out of the interior of the Palace of the Jester and into the lantern-lit courtyard.
“Cr*p…” Tristol blurted out as they walked out onto the flame scorched flagstones of the courtyard and saw what was there waiting for them.
That there had been a spellbattle was obvious, and the ground was pitted and scarred by fire and acid while the air was hung with the pungent stench of ozone. The corpse of one of the Marauder’s guards was splayed and broken into pulp near the entrance of the Palace, probably killed by a single blow from the titan’s hammer. But that was not what fixed their attention. Rather, they all stared in numb shock at Zadara’s sprawled and motionless body in the center of the courtyard. Her hammer lay beside her, the head smeared a brilliant scarlet and the Marauder was nowhere to be seen.
