Game: In the Spire's Shadow

Hilaren gestures to the floor and says, "Have a seat, Polp. I think we are here for a while...and I wanted to thank you for your tender admonition...I lament the loss of trunk and tree, but my actions did nothing to spare them." The ranger sighs heavily, the admission weighty and coarse.

"I have been charged my whole life to preserve their beauty and I find that only one pocket of the 'multiverse' (as you say) has their full bounty...maybe I--we?--can spread that beauty, while protecting Her Lady's loving presence...I sure hope so."

Zhegre eyes Polp and Hilaren as they depart from him at the Foundry. New to Sigil, yes, but... "This is not such a bad neighborhood, so you should be okay. Don't wander too far, and ask one of passersby wearing that sign --" he points out a nearby member of the Escorts and Touts Guild -- "how to find Gear Street and Hands of Time, when light seems to be approaching foggy noon. Is called 'peak.'"

He heads back home for breakfast and letter-writing, as described earlier, and armors back up for the expected trip later today. Then it's off to the temple of the Dwarven pantheon to drop off the excess donations and exchange news. Anything interesting?

At this point he turns aside slightly, heading for the city's nearest substantial temple of the Greek pantheon. He slows respectfully as he climbs the front steps, wearing his holy symbol proudly but trying not to be cocky about it. He murmurs a polite exchange of greetings with an acolyte of Hephaestus, craftsman to craftsman, then pauses next to a statue of Athena with her owl and admires the artistry momentarily.

. o O (They always decorate with good stonework in marble here. Strange how light the aesthetic is -- always white, very flowing and smooth. As if elves decided to love stone for a moment.) He corrects himself. . o O (No, it's not elvish, really. It's a human aesthetic. I should visit Arborea some day, I hear the mountains are fantastic... oh, I say.) Now there's a thought. He blinks. . o O (The oreads dwell atop the mountains. Hades is the Greek god of the underworld, but he dwells in the Waste. And Arborea has these amazing mountains, and to my recollection not a strong dwarven population.) Excitement. Could he possibly find a place where Rodina could expand settlement, in heretofore-overlooked halls beneath the grand ranges of Arborea? That would be a fascinating development indeed!

He files that idea away as an acolyte of the temple comes by. "Here to pay your respects, s-" the acolyte sees the holy symbol. "-oh." He straightens, and asks neutrally, "What can we do for you, sir?"

Zhegre produces the periapt. "I found this," he says, "and I am fairly sure it belongs to old temple of Athene." He shows the dinged-up silver holy symbol that came with it. "I wanted to return it to its rightful owner. If you have a means of identification handy, I am curious as to exactly what it is and how it came to be where I found it."

. o O (Grok-alok? That name sounds like it's -- well quench me in the Styx. It *is* an Orc. I love Sigil. I wonder if I can get him to tell me his story.)

"In ruined temple on Ooze. Fell through portal in mud puddle -- so I could not tell you how to get back, I am sorry -- and was lucky enough to land near air pocket that was inside. 'twas inhabited by clutch of beasties, otyughs I think they were called; not any more though. They were hungry and we had no plans to be dinner. There was more to the treasury, but, eh, I am afraid the companions I found there took more salwage-oriented view of ownership rights.

"Are you familiar with history of the place? And why there would possibly be portal leading out of the temple to Outlands, that is actiwated by an oath to protect cosmic Entropy? Comparative theology was not my best subject in training, but I don't recall that sounding much like feature Athene would have requested in original construction of her temple."

Zhegre nods, and takes the periapt back, putting it on. "I think it would be most impolite to sell this or ewen forge it into something else," he says, taking the holy symbol, "so I will see what I can do about finding it good home." He pockets it as respectfully as possible.

"If there is nothing else you recall about the temple, especially that portal, I suppose my business here is concluded. Though if I might ask personal question I am sure you get often... Athene is not traditional orcish deity. How came you to her serwice?"

Zhegre chuckles and nods. "Heh. Well, thank you for the gift. And now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment with some friends." He exchanges politenesses, turns and heads out to Gear Street, waiting in an outdoor cafe near the Hands of Time until peak.

(OOC: Since Hilaren's trial was managing to get on the docket within an hour, we may not even have to worry about odd coincidences to get back together. :^) )

Sensing some measure of optimism in the air, the shad rejoices with little idea as to why, and slips into one of his mind-wandering chatters.

“Oooh, I’ve seen those dabus-people around the city, though most were hammering away on structures or streets. Does it use one of those fancy working hammers to seal sentences? I wonder what line of symbols translate into “order in the courtroom”? This is going to be so exciting!”

Hilaren smiles cannily. "I savor the mind tests of the elders...sounds like an opportunity to ripen those skills. Yet, I am thankful to have a guide in such matters. When do we depart?"

Hilaren pales a bit at the ambivalence of remembered righteous indignation and regret. The whole ordeal is a stretch of his beliefs, which leads him to sit quietly staring forward into the room. He is reluctant to sit on wooden chairs, having to stifle the nauseating effect of placing himself on top of slain timber. And thus, he sits and awaits his impending punishment.

Polp exhales a breath of relief, while trying to see if there are any signs in the dabus' floating symbols that actually carry omens to be interpreted in the way of the shads.

“That sure went quicker than I thought! Not that I mind really, my seat seemed to be sticky with sweat. Think I spotted a warning sign within those dabus symbols, too. My kind don’t do with all this formality, it’s more like long hard talks with the elders.”

Switching tracks in his line of chattering, Polp looks to his taller companions.

“So, eh, what happens now? What does community service entail? When does it begin? Can it wait until tomorrow, because we’re all supposed to meet this afternoon. Oh, and we have a sort of mission to embark on. Not that I really have any sort of time perspective, but it’s serious and somewhat pressing business, that’s for sure!”

OOC: Disregard this post, please, I answered my own question.

Zhegre waves hello, and responds in his inimitable Rodina accent. "Dobrij den, Aloric. It has been two or three weeks, hasn't it? Da, I have been out of town. Was most unexpected. Fell down an Ooze portal and surwived to tell tale, stink and all. As it turns out, it was apparently not coincidence, ewen though it seemed like it at the time. I met a group of traweling companions -- ah, here are some now. You have heard me speak of Polp, the shad I met during my time on Plane of Earth, and this fellow with him is Hilren, of more recent acquaintance."

He lowers his voice momentarily. "He is new to Planes. Be nice."

He raises his voice again. "Also a few others -- a nathri, too, I have ne'er met one before, is most interesting culture. He should be along shortly with rest of group. We are taking Master Hilren to Fraternity of Order to see if there is recorded portal back to his home, and also to ask about quest that has apparently landed in our laps -- namely, finding Hissing Prophet. You have heard Spirelight prophecy, yes? It seems there may be way to put paid to this business of magic-deadening, and we thought we would follow it up. We all live on the same Planes, after all."

Zhegre makes introductions 'round the table as people arrive. "If you are getting bored in your shop, well, we seem to have lost our rogue modron, so perhaps we have opening, if people are agreeable. Be warned, though, mission seems to be seeing quite a turnower on members. We have already left one poor soul back on Ooze."

When the duo rejoins Zhegre and is introduced to Aloric, Polp nods to him with his usual friendly demeanour.

“Why hullo there, Mister Aloric, I’m doing mighty fine thank you, and I’m always happy to see a dwarf again. Well, not that I’m not happy about seeing other people too – except for tall angry fiends that is, they tend to be scary. Oh, and wolves, had a nasty run-in with those too, not too long ago. But then, wolves aren’t really people, I suppose, so that doesn’t count. I wonder if beholders count as people, though? Anyway, I’m happy to see people that are happy to see me, but I can tell you, there sure weren’t a lot of happiness in Bedlam. What am saying is, pleased to meet you!”

The shad bows deeply, having eventually gotten a good feel for the otherworldly gravity to avoid any recurring cloak-entanglement.

“I’m probably not the best to fill you in on the prophecy, even though most of my family say I’m very good at talking for lengths. Would you have been to Earth, too, perchance? Also, would you happen to have eaten, because my stomach is rumbling and this is an establishment to get lunch, isn’t it? I could go for one of those meat-rods myself, just like we got back in that old portal-town.”

"Where is this fellow from, Zhegre?" Aloric asks. Adressing Hilaren: "Ye might say it's a ritual of sorts. We dwarves make things from stone and metal. I'm a sculptor. I work with clay and stone, mostly. I finished carving a marble statue fer a client. It's done now, but I did in me two best chisels in the process. That's why I'm here now," says Aloric, holding up his new chisels.

(OOC: can I take total defense too? )

Zhegre waves the server over and orders a platter of hydra-neck for everyone. It's a bit tough, but there's plenty of it and it's cheap -- the source is self-renewing, after all.

Munching on some pyrohydra, Zhegre says to Aloric, "He can tell you where he's from better than I can. Broadly speaking, though, we can awoid some cultural misunderstandings if we quickly air it that it's a long way off. Where Hilren's from, trees are awake, land is holy, and metal and stone are unfamiliar. I think. I absolutely must wisit there some day -- it sounds stranger than most planes I've been to."

To Hilren, he says, "Master Hilren, my friend Aloric here is another local dwarf. He is artist, a sculptor in stone. I don't know what your people's religions say about such things, if anything, but I hope there will be no harsh words about butchery, or anything of that sort -- remember that land and stone here are not like yours."

He helps himself to a serving of cryo-hydra. "We can go meet the Fraternity after we have had a bite and more of our friends arrive. So tell me," he says cheerfully to Polp and Hilren, "how did your morning go?"