"Yes. I require an explanation of the use and construction of this Orrery," Boxy points to the arrangement of patterned tiles beneath her for clarification.
Kilojoule watched the sanguine precipitation with what might be alarm. "Attention, all units. An inexplicable meteorological occurrance may warrant removal of selves from vicinity."
Kilojoule makes a Knowledge (arcana) check to see what in the Hells is going on.
As Kilojoule mulled unsuccessfully over the strangely sanguinous percipitation, the automata shrugged its shoulders.
"It is merely a device which monitors the conditions and relative metaphysical locations of the various planes. As far as I am aware it is of use only to theorists and those who cast magics to pierce the planar barriers. We have for sale handheld apparatuses that relay information from the primary device if you are interested in it. They are quite affordable, only five hundred and seven standard gold units."
Sidrem looked confused for a moment. "Answer to question one as yet unknown. Research in progress, personal agenda project 23. Conclusion unknown." He paused, shifting to the next question. "...answers to question two and addendum, unknown. Line of question added to personal agenda 23 for further research."
Sidrem shifted, looking at Boxy bemusedly. "It is advisable to resolve this interaction quickly at risk of our ride leaving us to walk. In the rain. Especially in light of your..." He twitches as a butterfly flutters past his nose. "... organic alliance and its expected response to unusual weather phenomenon."
"I would propose that we can always return if nessecary." He blinked slowly at Boxy, looking at her questioningly.
"Five hundred and seven." Boxy is visibly disappointed. The idea that a handheld device could enable her to witness the moment-by-moment fluctuations in metaphysical Balance of the planes intrigues her greatly. It occurs to her also that if there were any other unusual activity with the Orrery, the handheld device might relay it to her. Something big is afoot, she's sure of it, and she suspects that Eye, wherever he is, is somehow involved. "I regret that I have insufficient funds for this purchase. Would a lease-to-own contact be possible? If not, I will have to return at a later date when funds are available."
The automaton shook its head, "I am sorry but we have no such policies. We only accept barter, gold standard, or credit from a number of local Sigilian banks. The Hands of Time apologizes for the inconvenience."
The rain was getting worse and wind howled against the great mechanical walls which slid and shuddered in their never ending dance. The doorway flew open with a loud inrush of wind that sent a pile of papers ont he automaton's desk flying. The machine-man groaned irritatedly and began scrambling to collect the papers as the doorway closed.
"Excuse me, folks," said the voice of the slaad Yarrdulence. "I don't mean to rush ya' but the ponies is gettin' spooked. I'm not exactly in my right ways, either come to think of it, could use me a nice glass o' cider. If you can't come along soon, I think I'll have to be dashing off." The tout stood in the doorway, one-hand clasping his hat, one clasping his monocle and the other drying the little piece of glass. His crooked slaad smile still beamed out even as lightning crashed behind him.
Boxy takes one last, worrying look at the tiled pattern on the floor then makes her way out into the weather and into the waiting cab.
She goes out of her way to avoid eye contact with the monocled slaad.
ooc: who got the demiplaney thingie that we needed? if someone isn't already carrying it - i will
Sidrem scampered after Boxy, not wanting to be out in the rain more than he had to be either.
"Such answers, while unsatisfactory in the long run, will be satisfactory for the moment. Might Optimal accompany the present modrons on the relevant mission with the intention of transforming Optimal's understanding of these matters?"
OOC: Sorry guys, I hadn't been by the site in a while. I thought the hiatus was still on.
Sidrem nodded, "Affirmative. Unit will be required to contribute to transportation, but is acceptable to this unit of party."
OOC:I also just noticed the sudden burst of activity, but I'm here now
*Ki follows the others*
The cab ride back to the Friendly Fiend was uneventful except for the worsening of the rain. The slaad cabby continued riding atop the cab and, by the time they had reached their destination, appeared to have been in a horrible battle of some kind. “Tastes more like rust than blood,” Yarrdulence commented as he openned the door for the rather cramped modrons (they had all been forced to ride inside due to the slipperiness of the vehicle’s roof), “Damn weird though.”
The Friendly Fiend seemed almost spooky and lurid in the strange weather. The lights in the windows streamed out casting shadows across the alleyway which seemed to create strange and vaguely recognizeable shapes. “I’ll move the cart around the corner under the overhang, lil’ boxes, but we’re gonna have to call it a night soon.”
As the modrons enterred the shop hoofbeats could be heard in the wind, but Yarrdulence had already begun dozing off and failed to note the strangers’ approach.
He was dripping a rusty reddish liquid though, as he turned towards the interior of the shop looking for the owner and intended recipient of their recently acquired object'd'arte.
"Strange weather, we're having," A'kin said amicably from behind the counter as he finished polishing some sort of arcane doodad. "You have the device, I imagine. Bravo, if you'll hand it to me I will calibrate it for you...."
What happened next was as surprising to the narrator as to the modrons. The door of the Friendly Fiend burst open with a loud slam. Howling wind poured into the store, scattering A'kin's paper work and rustling arcane tomes which screeched as their pages fluttered. A cloaked and hooded figure wearing only black stood in the doorway, outlined by a well-timed flash of lightning. A'kin let out a strangled gasp as the figure raised its arm, holding a strange tube-like instrument and then the room was suddenly awash with light.
A crack like nothing the modrons had ever heard reverberated through the room as a lance of pure light poured forth from the strange alien weapon and struck A'kin. The arcanaloth let out a loud unearthly howl as the light engulfed him. As the glow dimmed, the cloaked figure turned and dashed out into the night only the sound of hoofbeats marking its flight. The modrons rushed to A'kin's side but all that they found on the far side of the counter was an empty robe and piles of black ash. A heartbeat passed and the items on the counters began vanishing in puffs of smoke, the shopkeep's final defense against murderous looters.
And suddenly the modrons were alone in an empty shop, a single forlorn candle illuminating them in macabre shadows.
"I didn't do it!!!" Sidrem blurted out as his internal rogue 'party mood evaluation' routines misfired.
"... This isn't good." *ki goes over to examine the robes and ash closer* "I'd reccomend ressurection but our current funds would not allow us to arrange for such a thing."
Sidrem shifted from foot to foot for a moment, blinking in mild distress before something seemed to 'snap' into place on the back of his box.
"Primary order. We must remove this operational organization from the vicinity of danger." He said clearly, eyes seeming to focus. "All units return to our cabbie. Allowable exceptions are for magical or nonmagical routines of inquiry. All others are to be removed from potential danger." Sidrem opened the door by way of explaining what that meant - holding it for the modron team to exit by...
"Secondary order. In light of no other claimant, this operational organization is now considered in ownership of our recently acquired device." He nodded to the bundle in Optimal's possession.
"Tertiary order. The device is to be delivered to the Eye along with news regarding the loss of our greater organizations informational and material resource contact."
"... all secondary goals regarding my new hat, or Boxy's Orrey may be addressed at appropriate points in this venture."
He bowed slightly to the assembled group, saying in a faintly dry tone... "Please exit calmly and in an organized manner..."
"Such a plan of action as has just been propossed seems prudent," says Optimal, "however, Optimal would be interested in determining the exact cause and nature of the Arcanoloth's transformation. Is the pressence of a sterile, sealable container known of?"
Kilojoule ignores the discussion, intending to follow the consensus of the heirarchy. Meanwhile, it spends its time perusing the shelves, reorganizing items if necessary for added efficiency. Perhaps by alphabetical order. It seems wrong to leave the shop abandoned, allowing it to be lost to chaos, when there are 6 (OOC: ?) units present to manage affairs. But it is one lowly cube, and perhaps there is a more pressing need that it cannot percieve.
ooc: Heeeere Primus, Primus, Primus, here boy! Come on! Post! 
From her kneeling position on the now-wet floor, Boxy addresses the assumbled modrons. "I am perplexed. I observed an insect appear by apparently magical means. Said insect traveled across this Orrery then seemingly slipped between the cracks, but I see no crack big enough to accommodate the insect. Were it not for the unexplained appearance and disappearance of said insect, I would dismiss the event as irrelevant. The insect could be a focus for scrying magicks, or it may be somehow symbolic.