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Message: <blockquote data-quote="The803" data-source="post: 1987737" data-attributes="member: 23183">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.</blockquote>

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