Game: Hired by the Dabus

Akhenanubis is stunned when the guard leaves. Surely the guard recognized him as a highly respected agent of Anubis. He glanced down quickly at Golden Feather of Ma'at forged onto his bracers, the Rod of Greater Service in the quiver of wands on his belt, and the dramatic epithets written on Balance his mace. They were still there, but this only confused him more. Did the guard not recognize him? Was he some evil agent meaning to hinder the will of the Judge of Death?
Something was very wrong here.
Barely hearing the githyanki, Akenanubis merely nodded his head and absently muttered, "Yes. They are of no use." He was deeply troubled by this encounter. Looking up he continues, "Perhaps we should find someone more helpful in manner?"

'Indeed, it seems likely that our quarry would be able to escape while we acquired the appropriate permits to deal with him.' Janus glances down at the dream mephling with a bit of disdain at the mention of a plan. 'We should go...' He turns in a slow circle, before pointing down the street. 'This way.'

The proxy-to-be nodded his head. "These humans are standing in our way with their petty hinderances, I believe these 'permits' are merely further distractions. We should begin our own perusal of the town, tommorow morning with the rising sun I can ask Anubis for guidance to the whearabouts of the thief." Following the Cipher he begins to look around expectantly, "Perhaps their is an augerer in this town who does not fraternize with the watchguard and his scheming directors."

OOC: Anyone with a good Gather Information? I can ask for a divination spell when I choose spells again, but it's not my specialty and I'm not sure how helpful the answer will be.

OOC: I've got 3 of 4 player's okay, the 4th being Rhys and she hasn't checked back on me with it. Edited Fringe's Sheet at Character Index. Outsider Wings and Fiendish Bloodlines come from Races of Faerun. The spines replace the Electric resistance and were made by my DM. A Natural Lycanthrope has +2 level adjustment, tiefling +1 so, yeah, +3 total. Animal HD was treated as bonus HD.

"I will investigate these people. If they know anything, I will find it. Priest, you may have better luck talking to the sages." He looks at the others, "I can keep us in communication."

If no one has anything else to add, Quith'mek can do a Gather Information and manifest a heightened Mindlink power to keep everyone in telepathic communication. He'll start his search in a tavern of suitable size. Once he gets closer to the assassin, he'll start using specific psionics.

OOC: Okay...now that I've checked out your link.

Apparantly Races of Faerun had a different Level Adjustment bit, where natural werewolves are +2 and not 3... I guess though, that bringing 10/silver down to 5/silver, and inability to spread the curse will soften that bit up.

Next, we'll bring down Fighter level by one, that should cover it right? Or wrong?

Akehnanubis nods, glad that they have a plan. "I will stay with the little one while he consults his spirits, then he can accompany he to find the augurer." He looks appraisingly at the dreamling, "This one seems to know something about spiritual matters, he may be of help in interpretation as well. How do you intend to keep us connected, gith?"

'How much time do you need?' Janus asks the mephling. Before receiving an answer, though, Quith'mek is offering a communique and departure. 'Seems like a good idea, gith. I shall follow and keep an eye on you. Even on this side of the Ring, things can be dangerous.'

Ketel shivered at the feeling of having the githyanki in his mind. Still, this was a most efficient means of communication, the dream mephling approved. He hummed a little tune in his head, a few bars of a song often dreamed of and never remembered by its composer. The tune resonated through the minds of the assemblage. He concentrated on the image of beating the tuladhara with his own legs and smiled when the tuladhara didn’t even flinch. ‘The link is selective, it does not transmit all thoughts, just those we wish to communicate,’ he thought at the others with a nod of approval.

Satisfied with his inspection of the psionic bond that now joined the group of unlikely allies, Ketel focused his eyes on Akehnanubis and motioned for the jackal-man to follow. ‘It will take me ten minutes of uninterrupted trance to get an answer to our query. Have we decided on what question to ask the dream-spirits?’ Ketel glanced about, looking for something marked as an inn, tavern, or some place where he could spend ten minutes in a state of trance without being bothered. ‘I was thinking “Where in this city should we search to find the knife which we seek?” ‘

Ketel smiled as they moved towards the building that looked like an inn. “Dal Quor is a realm of truth and illusion, Akhen… Akhenanubis was it?” the mephling had returned to vocal speech, using the mindlink was a bit disorienting. “It will know the location of the dagger, it just remains up to me to interpret the visions given to me.”

“You are a cleric?” Ketel asked by way of making conversation. “I have not had much dealing with clerics in the Waking. I spent some time as an extension of a power’s will myself. Your deity – Anubis? – what is it?”

*Addle-coved berks! Oh, sure, I can stay here legally with this collar on. BUT I CAN'T CHANGE TO HUMANOID SO I CAN RATTLE MY BONE-BOX ASKIN QUESTIONS TIL ALL THE SHOPS CLOSE!* Fringe thought vehemently to himself. The whole burg was getting on his nerves, and he was handed a bowl not of good firewater or any decent bub, but water.

The wolf growled a bit as he lapped up the water.

OOC: Got...a...one on my check....hence the NO NEW INFO!

Scanning the restaurant for a quiet corner, Akenanubis turns abruptly to the dreamling at the mention of a power. This little creature served a power as well? That would require further probing, Akhenanubis could not allow some servant of an abberant power to foil this mission. However, if he was a servant of one of the powers of ma'at, this was an ally not to be overlooked.
"Anubis is the god that I serve, and my duty in life," he answered, "I seek to further his will to ensure fair judgement of the dead, so that my own judgement might be fair." Turning back to the room he added, "Perhaps we should enquire about a back room for your meditations."
Giving the blue wolf wide berth - it did seem odd that so orderly a town would allow an animal inside as though it were a nomads' camp - Akhenanubis approached the bar. "Excuse me, sir merchant, are there quieter rooms where my companion and I might find privacy?"

A slightly painful tingle from the collar gave Fringe the signal for his scheduled 'change'. *I hate Au-* he couldn't finish his thoughts as the back of his mind interrupted him with complaints about this whole deal.

Fur receded into green-marking-covered ashen-skin while clothing and equipment materialized back onto a now humanoid body. Fur turned to seemingly barbed hair while paws returned to humanoid appendages. With a breath of relief, Fringe took his water bowl and sipped the rest of it's contents down before heading up to the bar, rapier and longsword at his hips clanking slightly.

Leaning over the counter, he eyes the bartender a bit before making a motion for the bartender to come over. "Mind if I ask for a bit of the chant on somethin?"

Ketel glanced at the colorful lycanthrope for a minute before turning back to Akhenanubis and the innkeep. "Thank you," Ketel said as the innkeep handed a key to Akhenanubis and directed them back to their appointed dwelling space. Ketel walked softly towards the door, his little feet not making any noise on the wooden floor.

Upon enterring the room, Ketel hopped onto the lone bed in the center of the room and crossed his legs. "I am going to enter a trance," he explained to the cleric, "I will appear to be asleep, but my mind will be travelling into and through the dream realm. With any luck this should tell us the information that we need to know.

Ketel manifests Psionic Divination costing 7 power points. He has a 78% chance that this spell will reveal the answer to his question (or a 0% chance if the DM so deems it impossible to learn). I rolled... 56! Woo, success!

Ketel closed his eyes and muttered, "Spirits of dream, fingers of the quori, nightmares, figments, messengers of Morpheus, Hypnos, and Oneiros, I beseech thee. My companions and I seek a mystical dagger which has been smuggled out of the City of Doors and into the town of Automata. Oh, dreamers, please tell me where it is we should look in this city to find the artifact which we seek."

As the recitation ended, Ketel's head fell and his eyes snapped shut. His chest did not rise and fall with the steady intake of breath and his skin was cold and dry to the touch.

Within his mind, the dream mephling had reached back passed his conscious awareness, into the collective unconsciousness of the multiverse. Dreams and colors exploded around him, the thoughts and hopes and fears of billions of mortal and immortal creatures. He flew passed the dreams of cities, quiet and slow but filled with grim purpose, and the dreams of deities, images too foreign and powerful for even his dream-born mind to bear. He passed the dreams of men, of women, of the machines who have found the dreaming in their own strange way. And then he came there, to the cave of the dream bats, the oneiroi, the quori, and he beseached them for an answer.

For nearly a dozen minutes, the void mephling laid perfectly still, as if dead on the inn’s bed. Just as, Akhenanubis began to wonder how much longer the spell would take, the mephling shot bolt upright, his eyes wide. He looked left then right frantically as if he did not know where he was for a moment, and then, his eyes falling on Akhenanubis he seemed to regain his sense of location. With a groan he closed his eyes and rubbed his head.

“Waking is not a fun sensation,” he muttered, stretching his limbs and tiny wings before looking back to Akhenanubis. “According to my divinations our culprit has taken the dagger to the largest library in Automata. We should ask the innkeep for directions and head there, post haste.”

A slightly infernal scowl arose on Fringe's face as he thought about what he had to work on. "To be more specific, the clueless is a Prime. Probably has a look about him like he's had a few streaks o puttin some high-up types into the dead-book. Anyone been around to look the part?"

The interruption gave Fringe some measure of reason to turn his head and look down at the mephling. A slight aroma reminiscent of a delightful mixture of nightmares and dreams, if it could be described as that, sent a rumbling in the belly that reminded the tiefling that he was still quite hungry.

He unconciously smacked his lips as an infernal hallucination came up that turned the sight of the mephling into one of a talking, standing, piece of smoking meat.

Fringe's head shook vigorously as he got the image out of his head and looked back over to the bartender, awaiting for him to answer the mephling's question.

Akhenanubis' mental missive is recieved by the githyanki as he is leaving the smoke-filled common room of a squat tavern. He immediately calls back: I understand. We will meet at the largest library. Several people have seen an unknown white creature traveling with a group of the followers of Athar. An odd man described it to me, and is convinced that he saw it. I have also been informed that a man has been seen all over town looking for a sage, though he has been described to me differently each time. One loremaster who I met says that he was presented with a dagger that matched our description and could not identify it, though he detected powerful magic within it. This is all I have been told.

Quith'mek then turns to the barkeep. Where is the largest library in your city? he asks, bluntly. He follows the directions and looks for the cleric and the mephling outside the library.

Having never encountered a shapeshifter beyond the depraved minions of evil Set the Betrayer, Akhenanubis was not inclined to give Fringe a favorable opinion. "Excuse us, sir tiefling, we are on important business. Surely your own," the cleric frowned, "matters can what but a moment."

Five spines that could easily be mistaken for slivers of hair raised up a bit as Fringe felt a bit of the fiendish blood boil. "All planewalkers have important business cutter," he spoke in an accent betraying his origins from Sigil's Clerk Ward. "But first come first serve. I just need a bit of chant on a certain someone then ya can make like a Hardhead and bash the dark out of the barkeep for all I care. Which reminds me."

Fringe's fingers hastily digged out a silver piece and placed it down on the counter for the barkeep. "A sting for that bowl of water earlier." Indeed, for Fringe it really was a sting, where the silver met the fingers marks of red could clearly be seen against the ashen skin.