Turtle Soup (Planescape 3.5e)

*CRASH*

"Oi, you berks! Watch where you're throwing me!"

A small figure, dressed in dark armour with a whip at his side, extricates himself from the tangle of limbs which resulted from his precipitous descent from the overhead sphere. He stands up, shakes his fists at the addle-coves who threw him too far into the air, and turns to the two cutters still sprawled on the ground as a result of his impact.

He starts to speak, then stops as a look of alarm crosses his face, and hurriedly withdraws a wooden recorder from a pocket in his clothes. He examines it minutely, then lifts it to his lips and plays an exploratory phrase. After reassuring himself that all is well with his instrument, and pausing to shout further abuse at those above, he turns back to the two unwilling breakers of his fall.

"Sorry about that, cutters. My friends there don't know their own strength. Are you all right? Here, young lady - let me help you up! Oops ... steady there ... ah, right ... there ya go! What about you, cutter? Oh, you're already up. Hmm - big, aren't you!"

"Is anybody hurt? No? No, neither am I. Well, that's as strange as strange can be. Still, most things on the planes seem strange when coming - and most of them are still strange when going!"

"I'm Andarin Startoes," - he sweeps a bow - "and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
 
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Jurden-Quorr, CG Male Ghaele,

whoops... thinks Jurden. "Err... Sorry there Andarin! Are you okay?" he shouts to the other sphere. Seeing the halfling is all right he looks sheepishly at the others. "Oops." he says as they all break out in laughter.

He watches as Gibbous creates another portal and the sarphidian speaks. After observing the Gith and the Slaad fooling around he smiles. "Looks like I got all worried for nothing." He looks around, "RHYS! HEY RHYS!!! Where are you?" The ghaels searches the crowd for his green-haired goggle-eyed friend. "C'mon now, the World Serpant is through these other portals!"

"Andarin! Get your skinny behind over here or your girlfriend will be partying with some other berk tonight!"

He looks around at his crowd of wrestlers, "Lets go maties!" He picks up the tough little tiefling that shaved his head and drapes her over his shoulder while she laughs and half-heartedly protests as he takes a running dive through the portal.
 

{OOC: Whats with the thread email notifications. They only seem to work half of the time <at best>}

“Yay, go Andarin!” Rhys shouts as the halfling glides through the atmosphere. “Look at’m go Jurden. You’d think the little fella had wings!” “Guess I shouldn’t have eaten so much turtle soup! Eh? That mush must be what is weighing me down.”

“Hey look there’s Gibbous-Portal!” Rhys walks up and gives the mound of flesh a light smack. “Gibby, how about returning my shell now? I’m getting a bit thirsty and that sod Jurden won’t give me any unless I wrassle him.”
Leaning in closer Rhys whispers, none too quietly “Between you and me I think the fella is a bit off, if you know what I mean.”

Gibbous once again sets it [the shell] on the ground and gives it a good whack

“Hey, gimme that back!” Rhys races after the shell and narrowly avoids falling into the newly opened portal and at the same time somehow dodges out of the way as Gibbous slides his bulbous frame into it.

“Damn him!”

RHYS! HEY RHYS!!! Where are you?

“Over here my friend! That Gibbous beast won’t give me my shell back! I’m going after him!” Rhys shouts in reply. Checking to make sure his goggles are still secure the Fey-Touched dives into the hole.
 

The well build man stands up, after having received some people on the head. "Sindégo Lompaoré Co Déoula..." he told aloud on an unhappy tone.

OOC: Traduction from Tribespeach: "I'll never get use to that world..."

He turns around to face the people who has fallen on him. From the back, it looks like a clueless human from a primitive world with his crude spears and wooden shield and a hard leather armor made of some almost unworked hide of some animal that should be close looking of a cow, but as you see his face, his planar heritage is pretty obvious. The lines of his face are crude and sharp. A patch of scales start over the left eyes and finish somewhere under his shoulder-lenght black hair. The iris of his eyes are of a dark brown that looks pretty close of the empty black of his pupil, and have an ovale vertical shape, something between a normal eye and one of a cat. As he removes the dust from his clothing, you see another patch of scales that cover the right hand.

"Mi have no harm. Call mi Traore." As he speaks, he looks like to search his words.

"Can you understand me?" he continue in Infernal "I am a lot more use to this language, just too bad not everyone know it. I still have difficulties to speak the common tongue. Anyway, Meenah will understand nothing..."

"Your companion?" He continue, coming back to common tongue. He is pointing Jurden. Thinking about the new friend he made a few days ago, he turn to Meenah. "Meenah? You ok?"

Seeing she is all right He come back to the little halfling "If you out of here, mi follow. Start bi crazy here."
 
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Canny bloods from the inner sphere have completed a number crude rope bridges; rather than going straight up, they run off the inner sphere at a tangent, so crossing them is like walking uphill. As berks cross into the weightless zone, they swing a cord or rod under the bridge and slide down to the outer sphere. As the protective effects of the plane are realized, however, most just jump.

Unfortunately, Nethling portals on the inner sphere have not closed, and there is a bit of a scramble and scuffle as squads of Fated mercenaries, Harmonium patrols, and Mercykiller manacle-squads pour through from Sigil onto the inner surface. The open inner-sphere portals are quickly surrounded by tight moving circles of armored soldiers. They do not attack, but defend themselves ruthlessly.

Githzerai organizers urge sods on the inner sphere to cross to the outside or help repel the slavers and lawgivers. The festive atmosphere of the inner sphere rapidly becomes a bedlam of confusion, but the revelers on the outer sphere rally to help people evacuate and contain the invaders. Debris and jeers rain down on the invaders from overhead. The protective quality of the place gives an advantage to the skilled grapplers of the githzerai, but the portal guards are too skilled even for them, and seem intent on merely aiding the flow of lawgivers onto the inner surface.

Sunflies begin mobbing Mercykillers and the Sarphidians join the struggle, ferrying lighter berks both in and out to ease the traffic on the rope bridges, and defending themselves with flashes of colorful magic. They also attempt to calm the rioting crowd with words. This is as is should be. The forces of order will claim the inner sphere. The sunflies will ensure purity.

The githzerai captain near the Gibbous-portal laughs at this A gooey chaotic outside with a crunchy lawful center, eh? Try telling a Hardhead or a Mercykiller that without getting him in a python-coil hold first. He and his men make for the nearest rope bridge and file neatly inwards into the fray.
 

(Andarin) "Sorry about that, cutters. My friends there don't know their own strength. Are you all right. Here, young lady - let me help you up! Oops ... steady there ... ah, right ... there ya go!"

"Thank you... sir", Meenah has a moment of embarassment as the halfling helps her standing up. (Well... would have bet he was larger when he was standing on my spine... kind of cute tho) She looks somewhat frightened and overwhelmed by the mess and weird behaviours erupting all around her. It probably looks pretty clear to anyone looking at her that she is but another clueless.

(Andarin) "I'm Andarin Startoes," - he sweeps a bow - "and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Nice to make your acquaintance as well, sir Startoes. My name is Meenah." she smiles kindly and sweeps a bow as well, not sure if that's a local custom that should be returned, or just the next gaffe she made since she stumbled around here.

(Traore) "Meenah? You ok?" Seeing she is all right He come back to the little halfling "If you out of here, mi follow. Start bi crazy here."

Meenah slightly nods at Traore, and prepares herself to follow. (Crazy? There should be a better word for this in any of these people's languages) She has none but her new big friend to trust in this unfamiliar places, and even tho she is still a little afraid of him and his look, the last thing that she wants at the moment is to be left on her own.

edit: changed color to an unused one
 
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Velmont said:
"Start bi crazy here."
Click to expand...
"Crazy? Aye, cutter - the barmies are about tonight. And these sods coming through the portals are no friends to partygoers. It'd be a good idea to make yourselves scarce. The Hardheads'll scrag you and take you to the brick beast, as soon as look at you. The Red Death, though, they'd rather just put you in the dead book."

Noticing their vacant stares, Andarin sighs deeply and says, "Clueless - the place is full of them! Look, cutters, you'd better come with me - this isn't a healthy place to be. Normally, I'd leave you to pay the music - but, having knocked you down, I guess I owe you something. Now come on, step lively - you do not want to stay here!"

Grabbing Meenah's hand, Andarin turns and drags her towards the nearest rope bridge, trusting Traore to follow. He urges them up and across, and leads them to the Gibbous portal. Pausing just a moment to screw up his courage - "Oh how I hate plunging into deep water!" - he says to the others, "Come on now - the real party's below." Then, to the Sarphidians, "So long, bloods - and thanks for the fabulous flight!" With that he takes a deep breath and dives into the portal.
 

Jurden-Quorr

After diving throught the portal, Jurden starts to take stock of the World Serpent. But before he can take anything in, a huge, battle-scarred, one-eyed bauriar fills his vision. He looks Jurden over with his one good eye. Jurden notes his silvery horns and his blue within blue eyes boring into his own sapphire orbs. ...half-celestial? he thinks, acutely aware that he's got an attractive fiend-spawn's postier draped over his shoulder. She pokes the bauriar in the shoulder with her smoothskinned tail. "Hoi basher, got any drinks 'round here?"

He responds with a massive heave of his shoulders. "We don't make any judgement around here." Returning his gaze to Jurden he says, "You're Ysgardian by the look of you. Make yourselve's useful." He hands Jurden a massive barrel full of foaming spirits and tosses three ladles to the tiefling. "Start serving." He walks off and performs similar checks on other strong-looking berks.

The tiefling climbs up on Jurden's shoulders and starts filling shells & mugs with a ladle in each hand and one on her tail. Jurden talks, jests, and sings drinking songs as he wanders around the Gibbous portal.

"Rhys, Tselze, come have a drink... or three!!! Hah!"

Spotting Andarin, "Andarin! C'mere, drinks on me! Hah! Whoa, there, what's the rush little man? And who're your friends?"

"Oi yeah!" says the tiefling, clearly enjoying her newfound 11-foot height from her perch on ebon-skinned ghaele's shoulders. "You're the singer from the other side. How 'bouts a song?!" she asks.
 

On this side, the portal looks like an ordanary well with a stone sculpture of Gibbous the Nethling wrapped around it. The room is a warehouse-like space of grey fieldstone walls, slate floors, and a ceiling of thick wood planks. The place is stacked high with crates and barrels, all filled with perfectly preserved food and drink, mostly sour bread, sharp cheeses, hard cider, ale, and mead. About two or three dozen bubbers from through the well-portal are here, making for a fairly small and casual gathering; none of the other Nethling portals out of the Sarphidian's egg chamber seem to open into this room. A single wide staircase cuts up through one wall, and a golden light glows down from above.

The bariaur, who is called Anthaze, is apparently from the World Serpent, (or at least acts like he is) and seems rather pleased at this whole turn of events, despite his gruff demeanor. A large number of sunflies that have somehow gotten through the well-portal cluster around him as he assures bashers to help themselves to the food and drink and gives them the same rough welcome given to Jurden and Wysele (the tiefling on his shoulders).

Andarin and his new cohorts clamber out of the well, followed by a Sarphidian and a pair of man-sized turtle-folk. There is a bit of an awkward moment for those holding shells, but the two do not seem bothered by the use of their tiny cousins as drinking vessels. Both are curious about this new place, asking polite questions in quiet, baritone Sylvan. They are utterly clueless, fascinated by everything from metal tools to cheese.

The Sarphidian buzzes about the room curiously, warning people that the Gibbous well-portal will close soon, in case anyone wants to return to the womb. A few berks head back down the well, but more come up it every few minutes. Apparently, the womb-spheres have been divided between Law and Chaos, with githzerai and sarphidians maintaining something of a balance. The sarphidian seems confident that at least one nethling-portal to the womb will remain open somewhere in the World Serpent until "gestation is complete," but has no idea how long that will take or how to find such a portal.

The sarphidian perches on the head of the Gibbous statue and addresses the turtle-folk in Sylvan, You have made the first step, young beetles. I must follow you now. With this, the Sarphidian scrunches into a ball and hardens, seeming to gradually exchange textures with the Gibbous well-portal. The sarphidian's exoskeleton becomes hard and brittle; Gibbous and the well in its clutches reassume a fleshy texture and begin to stretch and move as if waking from sleep.

Tzelze addresses Gibbous as it awakens; Going back? Gibbous nods. See you in there, then; I'm sticking with you, big fella... Gibbous cocks its head at her curiously as the turtle-folk carefully remove the now-hardened sarphidian chrysalis from its back. She glances back over her shoulder, surveying the scene for a moment, and then dives below. Gibbous droops foward into the well and slithers down after her. As the nethling vanishes from sight, Rhys' turtle shell bobs up in the pool portal, which is now only a slowly-closing fleshy pore in the World Serpent's slate floor.

By this time, there are about forty people milling about in the storeroom, stuffing themselves with sampled food and drink and exploring the contents of each new container with eager, snitching fingers. Many are hivers, and this place is indeed a paradise by comparison. Others have drifted off up the flight of stairs, the only apparent exit other than the pore in the floor.
 

Jurden passes around delightedly passing out beer to the hivers. He pats Wysele on the leg appreciatively."Be sure to save some of bub 'fer me."

After bidding goodbye to Tzelze and Gibbous, Jurden turns towards Rhys, Andarin, Meenah, and Traore. "Drink up, drink up." He flashes his teeth in a brilliant smile. "So... shall we get to exploring that staircase or do you want to sample some cheeses?" As he asks, Wysele cuts a finger-sized slice from a block that she 'aquired' and offers it to you.
 

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