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Message: <blockquote data-quote="The803" data-source="post: 1979705" data-attributes="member: 23183">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.</blockquote>

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