Turtle Soup (Planescape 3.5e)

The big ghaele considers for moment, then slowly looks up. "Lead onward Rhys." He smiles and listens to Traore.

"Our new friend here makes a point. Are you sure you want your world exposed to us? Who knows what will happen..."

He turns to Bi, "How much of an affect will we have on a world not our own?"
 

log in or register to remove this ad

Bi (dividing her attention between Jurden and Rhys) : I'm told that mostly depends on your efforts, but I'm not sure what the effect of bringing a shell into another world will be. Maybe nothing. Right now, these worlds are just dreams; nothing is real yet. Think of it more like a game; the gods in your dream are like your team, and it's good to have bloods on your team that you can depend on. There's room for one or two more on this team right now, but again, that's just a convetion dreamed up by the githzerai that dreamt up this whole business. Some folks go in alone, and were not sure how many bodies a bed-world will bear.

As Bi is explaining, a flash of red pajamas draws Rhys' eye. It's her! The elf cipher from Sigil. She's off a ways in the crowd and hasn't seen you. She's moving towards Sysente's nearby world-bed, but she looks distracted, glancing around herself, almost as if she's lost or looking for something.

A familiar blue-grey cat brushes up against Rhys' leg...
 

As the little bard listens to the discussion around him, he is busy counting up on his fingers. "Andarin, Blue, Rhys, Rhinnishar - that's four - Sun, Sea, Meenah, Traore and Bi." He counts again. "Three plus one and one plus two and two - that still makes nine."

Looking up, he speaks to the group in general. "Now then, bloods, what's all this talk of a dozen? According to my reckoning, we're three off the dozen - unless the Indeps have adopted a Xaositect system of reckoning. So who are the others? Why does Rhys have only one last decision to make? Who's slipped in without our knowing it?"

"Rhys - Rhys, are you paying attention? Rhys - what's up, cutter?" Following the line of Rhys' gaze, Andarin sees the elf in the distance. "Oh-ho! Now that's an interesting 'coincidence'."
 

Rhys turns and cautiously puts his hand on Traore’s shoulder, “You have long suffered under the chains of oppression yet here you stand before us. Perseverance is a trait not to be taken lightly.”

The green haired sorceror turns back to the others. His multi-hued eyes briefly meet each of their gazes as he continues, “Whether this is all a big game that the Powers are playing or a dream that could turn into something greater like Bi is alluding to, I think we ought to find out. Besides if this is all for real then you all might learn something for when it comes to be your turn. The final choice is each of yours to make.”

The thoughtful look on the Rhys’s face suddenly turns into one of surprise as he catches a glimpse of the elven maiden from Sigil. Rhys unconsciously runs a hand through his hair and then attempts to smooth his jacket, only to realize that his dashing long coat has been replaced by pajama’s. “Well, well, well. It seems that she found me irresistible after all and has come-a-looking.”

“You are right Andarin, she certainly has a knack for timing that’s for sure. Why don’t we see what she’s up to?” Rhys says and then reaches down and gently picks the cat up that is rubbing against his leg. He then leans in and whispers something in its ear

[SBLOCK]“If the lady would like a word with us please tell her that we are over here.” [/SBLOCK]
 

Jurgen turns his shell over slowly in his hands, obviously in deep thought (though, when he thinks, he tends to have a strained expression on his face). After while, he pulls our small rag and proceeds to spit-shine the shell; pausing momentarily to trace his fingertips over the rune inscribed into the base of the shell. As he works, he glances up at Bi.

"How do these things work again? I just sort of toss it into the air and say a magic word?" He glances at Rhys, "Or do I vomit forth some strange sort of creature?"

Shell polished to perfection (well, as close as possible with just spit), he stands and brushes his hand against the drapes of the nearest bed (not Rhys'), "Is it possible to glimpse another's world w/out affecting it? All of these bloods, barmy though they may be, have the right to be the sole masters of thier own worlds... I wouldn't want to take that from them; even by accident."
 

Bi: Oh, sorry Andarin, I forgot to mention; those shells you and Jurgen carry are alive, with dreams of their own as long as you carry them. She also explains to Jurgen that you're free to sample dreamworlds from here without changing them; just brush a hand against the veil. Rhys gets a number of compliments on his dreamworld from those gathered.

Jurgen moves to sample the nearest world, which happens to be Sysente's. As he does so, the elven cipher in red brushes past him, moving towards Rhys and her cat. She seems unsurprised to see Rhys as she takes her feline companion from him with a wry smile.

She likes you, Catnip. She runs a hand along Rhys' veil. Her eyes close and a short laugh of delight escapes her. And I can see why... Such color... She drops the cat to smoothe her pajamas. She withdraws her hand from the veil and offers it in formal greeting, fingertips lilting downwards gracefully. Her name is Issa; I am Clareh. You will be Catnip to us, if you prefer...

Andarin's sense for bardic lore kicks in...
[SBLOCK]It is considered very honorable (or foolish) to give one's name without requesting one. By giving Rhys the option of taking a nickname, Clareh is expressing respect. "Catnip" is similar, in this case, to an honorific such as "excellency" or "your majesty."[/SBLOCK]

Jurgen brushes Sysente's dream-veil:[SBLOCK]A vast desert of white dunes spreads beneath an azure sky. In the distance, you see a zigguraut of red-brown stone festooned with green gardens. Your legs are suddenly tired, as if you had walked for days or weeks, and you find yourself at the structure's base. A throng of people is gathered in celebration, and you see that they are laying out a foundation for a series of smaller structures around the central one. Food and wine flow in abundance, but there is also a sense of purpose, of everyone finding the place that best suits them.[/SBLOCK]
 
Last edited:

Rhys gives the elf a wicked smile and says, “Catnip? Why that has some quite naughty connotations.”

The Fey-Touched then takes her delicate hand and gently plants a kiss upon it. He lets his lips linger just a moment longer than necessary. “I appreciate the sentiment Clareh, but Rhys suits me better.”

Releasing her hand, Rhys straightens up and says, “It is quite a surprise to find you and Issa here with in the Serpent. You seemed quite…disinterested...when we parted ways in the Cage.”
 

Clareh playfully pulls her hand away with a conspiratorial sidelong glance, and then nods at the cat, which she has placed at her feet. Well Rhys, my familar had other places to be, and I trust her instincts. Cats aren't shackled by thoughts.
 

Rhys cocks an eyebrow and then says, “Ah yes a Cipher – Always trust your instincts, or your familiar’s it seems. So what are your instincts telling you now about what is going on in here?"

While talking to Clareh, Rhys steals a glance over at Bi to try to gauge her reaction toward the elf.
 

"Shell living? How can that bi living? Should not bi surprize after all that, but still hard to know for me." say slowly Traore, trying to put all these unfamiliar things in shape.
 

Remove ads

Top