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<blockquote data-quote="Mark Chance" data-source="post: 1147247" data-attributes="member: 2795">Both slumbering ettin heads nod. &quot;Aye,&quot; says Weness. &quot;Androcles remains in residence.&quot;Meanwhile, an incalculable distance away, the doomguard Randir re-enters normal time sync deep within the twisting alleys of the Hive. The Tower Basalt, easily the tallest structure for many hundred yards around, dominates the block. Around it, pressed in tight, leaving space barely sufficient for two men to walk abreast, are the ramshackle hovels so common in this part of Sigil. Dirty faces glance at Randir, and then look away to mind their own business. Mind your own business is one of the few laws in the Hive, and it is often enforced by mob violence.As he approaches the tower's formidable door, a tall and wide portal made of some dark wood and reinforced with gleaming steel, Randir cannot help but notice that the crowd of disinterested passers-by are scrambling into shadows.From three directions - his left, right, and rear - Randir sees squads of Hardheads marching his way, each of the three groups formed into two columns of four. The squad to his left is led by a tall, thin man in expensive dark blue robes, his fingers heavy with jewelry, his bald head slick from the greasy drizzle that still falls hissing to the street.&quot;Hold it there, berk,&quot; says the bald man. &quot;Tower's off-limits. No one in; no one out.&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Mark Chance, post: 1147247, member: 2795"] Both slumbering ettin heads nod. "Aye," says Weness. "Androcles remains in residence." Meanwhile, an incalculable distance away, the doomguard Randir re-enters normal time sync deep within the twisting alleys of the Hive. The Tower Basalt, easily the tallest structure for many hundred yards around, dominates the block. Around it, pressed in tight, leaving space barely sufficient for two men to walk abreast, are the ramshackle hovels so common in this part of Sigil. Dirty faces glance at Randir, and then look away to mind their own business. [i]Mind your own business[/i] is one of the few laws in the Hive, and it is often enforced by mob violence. As he approaches the tower's formidable door, a tall and wide portal made of some dark wood and reinforced with gleaming steel, Randir cannot help but notice that the crowd of disinterested passers-by are scrambling into shadows. From three directions - his left, right, and rear - Randir sees squads of Hardheads marching his way, each of the three groups formed into two columns of four. The squad to his left is led by a tall, thin man in expensive dark blue robes, his fingers heavy with jewelry, his bald head slick from the greasy drizzle that still falls hissing to the street. "Hold it there, berk," says the bald man. "Tower's off-limits. No one in; no one out." [/QUOTE]

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