Turtle Soup (Planescape 3.5e)

"I knew it..." Jurden says, completely deadpan. He draws his axe, but doesn't hold it at the ready as there is no obvious target nor danger.

He walks over to Andarin and Rhys. Despite his perception of the seriousness of the situation, Andarin's song has him doubled over in laughter.

While Andarin takes a breather Jurden says, "Either of you bloods know anything about the planes... Neth in particular? I do... but it's all pretty foggy. Maybe you could help me remember or maybe the fragments of my memory can help you remember something that might shed some light on our current situation. What about you Rhys? "

OOC: Jurden is asking for an Aid Another action for his Knowledge (the planes) +3. Or, if someone has a higher skill modifier than he, he'll Aid Another on thier check.

He chuckles, "Maybe you should have followed the Cipher after all Rhys. If you haven't picked up on it yet, this is not the World Serpent."

Addressing the nearest sunfly. "Hey berk, care to enlighten us as to what's going on here? What purpose do are we supposed to be serving here." The ghaele seems to be picking up momentum. "Where do you get off kidnapping hundreds of sapient beings without thier permission? Did you even think to ASK anyone if they wanted to come? The Cage is full of barmies and addle-coves, I'm sure you could have found volunteers. Furthermore, you are infringing upon our right as free-willed independent beings to decide our own destiny..."

He pauses to catch his breath.
 

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Andarin's song attracts a veritable swarm of the sunflies and dragonfly-folk, and they appear to enjoy his music from overhead. The mood lightens noticably as more sunflies gather. A few berks think otherwise for some reason, swatting at them like pests and prompting good natured rebuke from the rest of the crowd, as most bloods know that sunflies are harmless and the glow they cast is comforting. The dissenters stalk off, grumbling something about digging their way out.

The crowd is calmed a bit by the music and the accumulating glow. Jurden gathers a small cadre of plane-saavy bloods, but the only thing any of them can agree upon is that this place isn't Neth, as Neth has no gravity and is filled with fizzing fluid and endless questions about the world outside. It's also not the World Serpent, although the World Serpent, like Sigil, is said to connect to all manner of places.

Tselze adds, This ground is sort of Neth-like. This may be a new part of Neth we've none of us seen before, like a flower that only blooms once in a great while. Perhaps this is the first time.

One of the dragonfly-folk answers Jurden's accusations, sounding somewhat hurt;

We have only extended our welcome; you are free to spurn it and return to Sigil if you wish.

There's a whoop from above, and you look up just in time to see a pair of fey-goblins fly overhead, towed through the gathering mist by a doubly-lassoed dragonfly that seems to be having as much fun as they are. They're balanced between the two spheres of gravity, but as they swoop past and up into the curve of the spheres, their momentum swings them out towards your sphere's surface. The crowd gasps and scatters as the dragonfly swoops up towards the inner sphere and the goblins skim the outer sphere before swinging upwards again into the weightless margin between the two surfaces.

A particularly barmy, grubby gnome is frantically running from group to group, and he busts into the midst of yours, flapping his bone-box:

No fires! This orange mist be flow-jetsam; I'd reckanize it anywheres; it make fires gobble their fuel in a whizz-flash! BANG! KABOOM! Even candleflame'll touch it off if it gets dense enough. No fires, or ye'll be flash-fried where ya stand! No fires! No fires!

Before anyone can discuss it with him, he scampers off to spread the warning, followed overhead by a curious pair of dragonfly-folk that break off playfully from the swarm watching Andarin's music and Jurgen's discussion of all things planar. No one's ever heard of flow-jetsam.
 
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The803 said:
One of the dragonfly-folk answers Jurden's accusations, sounding somewhat hurt;

We have only extended our welcome; you are free to spurn it and return to Sigil if you wish.
Click to expand...

That floors Jurden. "Uh... we can go back can we?" He looks around sheepishly. Then stows is axe, almost as an afterthought. "Looks like you got me all worked up fer nothin' then."

He ponders aloud. "If Neth is nothing but bubbles and fluid and such... when where does the raw material for the Nethlings come from? Could it be that we're inside an air pocket on... or in... however you say it... Neth?"

Suddenly remembering the sunflys, "Oi, you there!" he shouts, indicating a hovering insect thing. "Yeah you, sorry for my outburst, thought you might be infringin' on our rights to be. What is this place and who are you? Where we come from, most hosts greet thier guests and both host and guest, if not previously aquainted, exhange names. Me? I'm Jurden-Quorr. And while I can't speak for all of this lot, the little bubber with the rather attractive elf is Andarin. Say hi Andarin."

"And my clueless friend, Rhys is over there." He points.

"No, not squat thing with two heads... what? Your name is Rhys too? Well... I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about the green-haired guy on your left."

"Your other left."

The ghaele sighs. "With green hair."

"That's not hair... not on my side of the wheel, at least."

"Huh, well I'll be... there are two green-haired guys over there. Well, I'm talking about the one with goggles on. Yeah, him."

"See that?" he asks the dragonfly/sunfly people, "That one's my friend Rhys."
 
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Not the World Serpent? Well thats a relief, to think I missed a chance with that Cipher
lassie for...THIS..." Rhys gestures all about him "..would be quite depressing."

Watching the two goblins flit about in the anti-gravity the Fey Touched adds, "Perhaps we
ought to make the best of it though like those 2 lads. Hey Bariaur...yeah you...how about a refill..all this blasted mist is making me thirsty!"

Rhys tosses down another quarter shell and then stares on in wonder as the goblins continue to bounce between the two gravity zones.
"Hey Jurden, you seem to be the strong sort, why don't you grab a couple of your burly wresting friends and give me a lift. That looks like fun! Just try not to throw me onto Portal-Gibbous..I think that might be unpleasant."
 


Lobo Lurker said:
"the little bubber with the rather attractive elf is Andarin. Say hi Andarin."
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"Andarin Startoes," he says, executing a sweeping bow, which takes him perilously (?) close to plunging into Tselze's cleavage, "and yes, cutter, I am light on my feet!"

"And now, darling Tselze, as much as I have enjoyed being in the arms of the fairest maiden in all of Sigil, perhaps you will put me down. Have no fear, I will protect you - but I prefer to meet the multiverse on my own two feet."

As Tselze reaches up to take him off her shoulders, Andarin twists around to slide down, and on the way puts his arms around her neck and kisses her passionately for a moment. If she is shocked, he smiles and winks; if she responds, he lays a hand tenderly on her cheek before sliding reluctantly past those captivating curves to the "ground".

"So, cutter, what happens now? Are these 'seeds of Sigil' simply to be sown, or is the flowering of this experience to happen elsewhere? Not that you haven't given us - he casts an eye at Rhys whooping it up overhead - plenty to savour already."

The803 said:
Tselze adds, This ground is sort of Neth-like. This may be a new part of Neth we've none of us seen before, like a flower that only blooms once in a great while. Perhaps this is the first time.
Click to expand...
"Now that is, indeed, a gift. To be present at a unique unfolding of the multiverse - that's what life is all about." Andarin bows again, low and sweeping - managing to take in the dragonfly beings, Tselze, his companions and Neth itself.

(OOC: I'd be happy to Aid Lobo's Knowledge check but I don't have ranks in Knowledge (The Planes) - is there any other way I can do that? And in case I didn't make myself clear in character before, does my Bardic Knowledge check reveal any more information about the large dragonfly beings?)
 

The large dragonfly-beings introduce themselves as the Sarphidians, but nobody has heard of them before. Andarin recalls a number of songs and tales told by marsh-dwelling fey folk about dragonflies being the first flying creatures. One such tale says that they planted the world on the back of a great swimming beetle, which is where all dry land comes from. Later stories tell of the growth and transformation of the beetle into a turtle and the dragonflies into dragons.

Jurden's planar-knowledge clique clarifies; Neth's atmosphere is all bubbles and fluid and such; the rest of Neth is, as Tselze pointed out, like the ground beneath your feet. She is too shocked by Andarin's stolen kiss to contribute any more, and flushes red as he smiles and winks his way out of any real trouble from her. The slaad grins at her:

What'd you 'spect? You picked'm up; 's only fair for him to try to pick you up.

Rhys is too heavy to throw more than 8 or 10 feet in the air. The bariaur suggests that he might be lighter if laughing, and Rhys is glad to give it a try. It doesn't help, but the laughter is somewhat contagious. As they give up throwing Rhys, several of the throwers cast furtive eyes in Andarin's direction, but only the slaad is indelicate enough to ask straight away, puckering her lips and bugging out her crossed eyes:

Care for a fling, me sweet a'fling flute-kisser? That sod's too 'eavy.

Others have gotten the same idea by now, and some have tossed ropes across the gap. When done with care, this leaves the rope suspended in midair between the spheres. A crowd gathers around a group of humans as they anchor a long rope within a group of 4 strong bloods on each sphere and then climb across. The inversion in the weightless margin is rather amusingto watch.

A number of cutters make the crossing before an addle-cove monkey-man gets the bright idea to simply stop within the weightless margin and push off the rope into space. Drifting like a cloud above two nervous crowds on either sphere, he deftly expands a large paper fan in each of his hands and prehensile feet and swims off through the air, followed beneath. Several sarphidians and a massive swarm of sunflies gather to him and clutch his body, and the whole formation looks like nothing so much as a luminous airbourne goldfish. The formation tightens around him and whizzes off around the sphere at great speed as he whoops with laughter and excitement.

A few more bloods get the same idea, but some of them are left flailing in the balance after failing to attract sunflies for some reason. The others are treated to a ride that looks like a great deal of fun.

Some of the nethling gates begin shutting abruptly, and word spreads that the parties back in Sigil have been raided by a coalition of Taker landlords intent on collecting tolls, followed by polite Harmonium interventions and ruthless Mercykiller raids against the parties that resist. The Githzerai are the last through the gates. Gibbous stumbles near you as the lead monk from your party back in Sigil steps out of him. There is a wry look on his normally-stoic face.

Anyone returning to Sigil is under arrest. The only safe way back is through the World Serpent.
 

The803 said:
Care for a fling, me sweet a'fling flute-kisser? That sod's too 'eavy.
Click to expand...
Andarin hesitates for a moment, examining the idea with a Cager's innate eye for street cred, then shrugs, smiles, and says, "Sure, cutter - I'll try most things once! Heave me ho me hearties - how high can I fly?"

Flung into the air by willing hands, Andarin swoops and speeds overhead in the reduced gravity zone. Laughing uproariously at the experience, he takes out his recorder, and pipes shrill snatches of song as he zips hither and yon.

Casting longing looks at the central weightless zone, he nevertheless turns back at the news of developments in the Cage.

The803 said:
Anyone returning to Sigil is under arrest. The only safe way back is through the World Serpent.
Click to expand...
"Well, bloods, I came for a party - so I'm for the Serpent. There's more than one way into Sigil!"

"And now, up again - I'll fly free with the berks in the light zone!" With that, his willing ground crew cast him adrift, and he manoeuvres towards the bridging ropes. From there, he tumbles up the bridge and leaps off into the void ...
 

Jurden wanders around after helping Andarin into the air. He's not looking for anything in particular, but he keeps a wary eye on the Sarphidians. He'll chat with them as he wanders around. "Sarphidians eh? I don't believe I've ever heard of your kind. Did you guys work with the Nethlings to create this place?"

"Hello Gibbous. Done imitating a portal?" the ghaele smiles. "Soo... was this planned or are you here, and by here I mean here at this specific location talking with me right now, by accident as well?"

To the last githazeri, "I hate to burst your bubble blood. But the World Serpent, this ain't."
 

Andarin is tossed into the flight zone several times, and has no trouble attracting "rides" from the Sarphidians and sunflies once he's up there; they enjoy his music as much as everyone else. On the third throw, however, the ground crew gets a little overzealous, and Andarin shoots right through the flight zone and smack into the inner sphere, where he crashes into two clueless sods.

The impact should have dealt at least some injury to all involved, but as the three gather themselves up, they are happy to find themselves unhurt. Jurden and the others in the ground crew shout up sheepishly to Andarin and he shoots back that he's okay no thanks to them as he's apologizing to the two clueless for so rudely dropping in on them.

The githzerai addresses Jurden, Your friend should've been hurt by that little stunt, but it's a trick to get hurt in the World Serpent. You, Slaad, give me a good punch...

The slaad shrugs and puts a great gray fist into the Githzerai's face. He make no attempt to defend himself and is sent sprawling. Several githzerai notice and come running, but the nasal laughter from the downed berk halts their attack.

S'okay lads, I asked for it! And nicely done, madamoiselle; I think my nose is broke. As they help him up, you see that his nose is indeed smashed sideways into his face, but he doesn't seem to be in much pain at all. Give it a moment... He straightens his nose, sniffs, and then wipes away a little blood with the back of his hand. There... All better. See? There is indeed no sign of the injury a few moments after. A lesser hit would've bounced right off and even a mighty whack like that closes up in a twinkle. The downside is that magic is a bit harder to work. I know it don't look like a tavern, but it is a common room of the World Serpent.

The shell-like portal around Gibbous gives of a final puff of flow-jetsam and contracts back into the shell originally taken from Rhys. Gibbous once again sets it on the ground and gives it a good whack. Rather than a spiral stair, however, it opens a pore-like opening in the fleshy floor, filled with a vaporous fluid the same color as the gas. Gibbous slides in and swims downward.

A sarphidian observer chimes in. The tunnels of the World Serpent lie below. You may come and go as you please, but carry and strike no flames within this womb.

Tselze is first in line to take a swim. She slides into the water and vanishes for several minutes before reappearing with word of the other side. It's like the flight space above; down becomes up, and it surfaces into a well in a big storage-room of some sort.
 

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