Game: In the Spire's Shadow

“Ooh ooh! Before we go to through that portal-thing, there’s something I’d like to do here in Bedlam, if we can spare a moment? Its that park of theirs, I’ll only be a moment, promise!”

Polp is jumping up and down now, his huge ears giving off a jingling sound from the dangling metal crafts, and his immaturity once again shining through as he waits for someone to give him permission for his intended actions.

“I’d be honoured to be accompanied by a friend, especially you Mister Zhegre. You might think of this as a shad spiritual rite, but actions speak for a longer time than words do, or so a human once told me… Or was that elementals speak louder than mephits? Earth elementals speak pretty loudly, that’s for sure (when they speak, that is)… Anyway, that human was a Cipher, so he was going on with actions and when to take them all the time…
Eh, I can explain afterwards if you’re interested.”

Polp beams with bliss and waits awhile to see if any of the others would like to join as well. After decisions has been made, he leads them off, following Ilgya’s directions to locate the Bedlam park.

Only his combat experience saves the ranger from complete catatonic shock. Hilren raises his bow while quickly glancing for cover...something five disgustingly pathetic trees do not provide. Sorrow instantly turns into wrath. These monsters will pay for what they have done!

With that, the first two find themselves the target of barbed fury.

OOC:
Initiative: 10 (frak. all low rolls today...)

Rapid shot
AC(1): 23
Dmg: 5 (6 due to point blank shot)

AC(2): 9
Dmg: 5 (doubt it)

Spot: 15
Listen: 23
Search: 23
(Checkin for options/poss. allies)

Five foot step backwards, preferrably placing his back against a tree. Add dodge bonus to nearest assailant.

The vaguely bat-like grey head of Polp peeks out from a rotten bush nearby, rapier drawn, huge ring-covered ears raised at attention, and his oversized dark brown eyes darting left and right for possible dangers.

“By the revered ancestors! Yessir, taking note for future generations, Bedlam is a poor holiday resort, and all the tallies look and act scary!”

Figuring that the sad-looking woodsman isn’t prone to pin arrows in Zhegre or himself at the moment, the small shad cautiously steps out of hiding and sheathes his blade, then tiptoes back near his dwarven friend again on his strange wobbling flexible limbs.

“He looks sort of distressed, Mister Zhegre,” Polp whispers, “Which I can perfectly understand, because this isn’t exactly the most joyfilled place we’ve been to.”

A rare moment indeed, Polp musters the courage to approach the stranger a bit, and speaks with a naive though genuine attempt at comfort.

“Don’t be sad, Mister Stranger, eh… those meanies are gone, and everything is going to be all right, you’ll see. Well, of course, nothing seems to be quite allright in this city to be honest, but my third uncle Phelin always says that you can find signs of better days to come if you look close enough. But then again, he was almost blind, so I wouldn’t put too much faith in his words.”

“I’m Polp Stingsong, tunnelrunner of Gemstone Gardens, and this is my great friend Zhegre, priest of Tharmekhûl.”

For good measure and manners, Polp bows deeply, resulting in his cloak falling over his head and entangling the young shad.

Mumbled words in the Druidic tongue emanate from behind the cloth as Polp untangles himself from his cloak, flushing with embarrassment.

“Stupid light gravity making everything jump all over the place… A wonder all these dreamers don’t simply float off like mephits…”

Though moved by the ranger’s distress, the shad youngling is also confused by his words and responds in Common.

“Avlis? Beasts of Earth? Has an elemental swallowed someone you know? Because that happens sometimes back in my home gardens, even though the daos are supposed to keep them away. It’s mostly the earrings, you see, many of them are of quite exotic metals, which some earth elementals regard as exquisite sweets. My condolences, really, I’ve once lost one set of grandparents to an elemental, simultaneously!”

Polp expresses his “consolation” while looking up at the ranger with sad eyes, his big ears now hanging in expression of shared loss.

"Ah, that I can explain," says Zhegre. "If you are not familiar with stumbling from one milieu into another radically different, then is safe to say you are not what we call planewalker."

Zhegre sweeps his hand out to take in the vista. "Allow me to inform you, comrade, that you have passed through planar portal and into The Outlands, commonly known to persons from the material worlds, such as yourself, as Plane of Concordant Opposition. This not-particularly-pleasant corner is metaphysically near Pandemonium, name which I am certain needs no translation."

He points at the Spire, and Sigil atop it. "And if you seek either adwenture in this new place, or way back home, that is place to find it. Sigil, City of Doors, and therein your best hope is probably portal logs of Fraternity of Order. My friend and I, as well as some companions we must get back to soon, are headed in just that direction. You are welcome to accompany us, if you wish."

The smile on the woodsman’s face spreads to Polp within moments, all sorrows forgotten instantly. The tunnelrunner mimics his gesture with graceful movements, though upon realizing he is a finger short, he somehow manages to wrap one of his middle fingers a few times over and bringing it to the side to play the role of both human thumb and index finger.

“Pleased to meet you Mister Hilren, even if it’s under less than pleasant circumstances. I know little about this place aside from where to get a mug of Arborean Ale, but perhaps some of the others in our band can answer your questions. I’ll tell you one thing, though; these natives are horrible at tending to nature. Why, back home, gardeners like these would receive a singing slap from Ma Hyulie, and she has been known to backhand a dwarf even, so that he fell flat on his bottom!”

The shad starts wandering around the park, looking for as fertile soil as can be found, hard as it may be. He maintains a wary eye on the inhabitants, however, never wandering too far from Zhegre.

OOC:
Nice Quiver of Ehlonna there, Ben

M'rek

M'rek shows up in the park eating something that looks like a hot dog, only the protein part looks more like a tentacle...which might be moving...he grins over this culinary discovery, his mouth all splotched with a thick rusty-red sauce:

"I was behind just behind you, but stopped to grab a bit of something to eat...it seems it cost me a fight, but it was worth it, this tanaari hot sauce is to kill for."
after his stream of reports, about whom and what he saw, the Nathry finally acknowledges the ranger's presence:
Hello, I gather you have just arrived, hmm? Are you from Eberron? What are you doing here? How come you have a quiver but no arrows or bow? Where are you going next? Have you met Polp and Zhegre before? I guess we better finish Polp's ritual quickly and leave, Kadar is starting to fidget, and Baba is getting reder by the minute...I guess the town does not agree with him...or could it be that Tannaari sauce?"

Hilren chuckles at the shad's maneuver, some of his pain ebbed by honest mirth. "Thanks, Polp...and a gardener, eh? An honored position among the Rounds."

Hilren focuses on what the dwarf says and tries to process the onslaught of information. Though clueless, he is perceptive, and so he nods in reluctance. "I apologize...Avlis and her endless woods are all I know--until now. I'll accompany you to this 'metropolis' (he mouths the word oddly) and wherever else this journey leads until home. Maybe I shall be able to introduce you to Her Lady's majesty, which is far better than this realm of madness, like cedar tea to muddy water.

He smiles widely at the shad's actions. "You bear a mighty gift of life in those little claws, Fincheart."

Pronounced "finch heart"

And thanks, however, it's just a efficient quiver. But, depending on what it does, a Quiver of Ehlonna might be a nice trade.

Zhegre waves to Kadar and Baba as they return, an extra passenger in tow. He indicates the ranger with a thumb. "Random Keyless we are showing back to Sigil hoping he might find way home in Fraternity's Portal Log. I don't think he has anything to do with Spirelight, but way this mission has been collecting new people he might be Hissing Prophet. Hilren," he points, "Kadar, Baba, P&~P."

Zhegre gives Hilren the basics on what a portal is and how this one operates. A demonstration will be forthcoming in a second.

“Well, eh, it does have a name Mister Hilren, but it’s in Druidic and we were told to be secretive about that, teachings passed down from the great ancestors who observed the Keepers of Verdorth and all that. We generally just call it the Seed, even when talking about the grown plant – the word is very symbolic, Veru told me, the village druid.”

“I can show you examples of grown plants in Sigil, I’m sure. They can be hard to spot, because they sort of know to stay out of sight to prevail in such a world. Strange, isn’t it? They look like a sort of vine, coloured like their surroundings, with white and purple flowers covering it. You are bound to see Shad signs like those I’ve inscribed nearby.”

After introductions have been made, Polp pops a question that have been nagging him for the last couple of minutes. Zipping back and forth between them all, he looks up with eager hopeful eyes and bursts:

“Can I go first through the portal? Can I? Can I?”

He nods with understanding at Polp, knowing that many of the Rounds had their own secret rituals and customs. "I will be glad to see such splendors."

When Kadar finishes, Hilren's face twitches in ambivalence between anger and humor. Realizing he did not mean a cutter in terms of forest-razing (they call their enemies "cutters" for short. , he wryly smiles and places his hand to the quiver. "I may be clueless, but I'm no cutter. I am a bowman--a ranger in the truest sense."

OOC: Oh, if y'all could, to make it easier on me, please implant your race and perhaps a brief description of your character somehow. Nothing fancy, but I want to make sure I get the proper mental picture--all of your species are probably fantastical to this Prime Ranger, as his world doesn't get many visitors.

Thanks! It's just a lot to hunt through 19 pages for descriptions.

Actually, he's never seen a dwarf--well, no mountain bred one!

There might be a variant of tree carpenters, who blend the dwarven architecture with druidic flare, but they are a rare species in Avlis...so, he's more clueless than your average clueless! LOL

Oh, he'll be tripping to see a machine...let's just hope he doesn't flip-out totally.

Polp makes a leap of joy and steps up to the portal doorway, a huge smile on his face. He sticks a claw from each hand carefully in his big ears, giggling at the tickling sensation, then sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry as instructed.
As the portal springs into being, the shad peers deeply into it and grins in excitement.

“Ooooh, swirly! Oh boy, oh boy, I’m going to see Sigil! See you all on the other side!”

With that, the shad jumps through as if his life depended on it.

OOC:
Ben, here is Polp’s presentation to the party from my opening post on page 14. For more on shads, check them out in the PSCS.

Hilren seems leery at the prospect of hopping through a field of phantasmal energy. However, he is no prim character and strides purposely into the area and blasts a hearty raspberry. Smiling as the field forms around him, he shrugs and says, "Do that with the saplings all the time."

Thanks all! And actually, demons don't play too much of a role in Avlis' cosmology...the closest would be the vile spirits who created the razors of the woods. So, to him, you look a lot like a humanoid insect.

As the other members pop out beside him, they find the young shad standing awestruck with his head tilted back and staring up at the opposite segment of Sigil. His neck is actually contorted to such an extreme degree to nearly form a right angle, giving the impression that Polp just have snapped his own neck, had he not been a shad.

“I… I had heard… but this is… that is… wow!”

Polp takes a deep breath in astonishment, resulting in him discovering the heavy soot-filled air characteristic of Sigil. He tumbles on his back in a coughing fit, completely taken by surprise.

Zhegre observes the range of reactions with interest.

"Ah," he says, "as to air and place, those are two different questions. The air --" he waves a hand vaguely, possibly leaving a just-visible contrail of light smog -- "that is mostly just result of millions of beings liwing in close proximity, with numerous beasts of burden, heawy industry, near-complete enclosure, and warying ideas on what constitutes good hygiene. Such as nice hot bath of molten brimstone, for some of them. Sometimes you get this on more poorly-planned dwarven communities on Plane of Earth, too.

"Who made Sigil... now that is deep planar mystery. You stand atop Spire itself... which you shouldn't be able to do, it being infinitely tall. And in place full of magical portals... which shouldn't exist, Spire being middle of zone dead to to magical and ewen diwine powers." He says in an aside to Hilren personally, "(Zone that has been getting noticeably bigger of late, too, which is the business we are all on.)" He concludes to the newcomers all with the advice, "Easiest short answer is probably 'The Lady.' She rules the city, so we're not likely to cross paths with Her Serenity. If we do, bow your head, let her pass, and for crying out loud, don't try anything stupid like giving her flowers. Her full name is 'The Lady of Pain.'"

After that dark warning, he cheers up. "Well, looks like we're all here." He turns to the other Sigilians. "Where do you think would be most productive to head to find someone who can get an appointment for us at Fortress: Gear Street or City Courts? Or can our modron friend do so?"

“Ugh… Many thanks, Mister M’rek, I’m used to air filled with dust, but I didn’t see this one coming… Ooh, that’s a nice trick, you sort of look like my 5th cousin Jentin now, except without the cheek-scar!”

After Polp has grown a bit more accustomed to the air, his mood turns bright as day and he peers around with fascination at all the peculiar planar pedestrians and sightings.