The Fortune's Wheel (Lady's Ward)

(OOC: I'm trying to work on a more detailed background as we speak. But, here's the basic gist of what I had in mind:

The ethergaunts had targeted Earth as one of their first sites of genocide in their campaign against the prime material plane sometime during the late 1950's and early 1960's. The Khen-zai were evenually driven off and the four countries that were attacked managed to completely cover up the secret war from the eyes of the general public. As a result, only a few select people still remember. Edward was one of them.)

Sure, have yourself a seat.

After a second he points to his book and says, "Can you believe this? Theres been a drastic increase in portals to dead magic worlds. They don't even know how a portal can EXIST in a dead magic world. Pfft... and some claim the multiverse isn't falling apart, even the difference between magic and non-magic is crumbling.

He takes a long swig of his ale.

"Wow, I just thought of this.

You know how normal primes are clueless. Just imagine how cluless one of the primes from a dead magic world is gonna be! It boggles the mind.

At the sound of that generalization, the professor rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself.

"I've been around enough to know that you don't underestimate primes no matter where they're from. If they've got the power to get here, or the insight to notice a portal, they are a blood in my book.

However, blood or no, they still know nothing of the planes. Plus, since magic is such an integral part of the planes, they'll have even less of an idea what is going on. Hence, they'll be more clueless.

If you don't mind me rattling my bone box a little more, I'd like to hear more about this technology you spoke of. I used to study a bit of mechanics back in the day. I always never trusted magic, always too unpredictable and hard to master. Sure a machine is really likely to break down, but what isn't likely to break down?"

edited for spelling.

The half-breed chuckles to himself, looks at Edward. By the odd way Edward is dressed, Johnathan figures out what was going on.

"Let me guess... your one of those "ultra-clueless-prime-berks" I was talking about before..... sorry."

He smacks his forehead out of embarrassment.

"If you can forgive my complete lack of tact, I would still like to hear about a technology based world."

Johnathans mind starts drifting toward thoughts of clockwork horrors, and modrons. His imagination painting a picture of a world where everything has gears and springs, kind of like Mechanus.

The old man gave a relaxed shrug and grinned, "Pay it no mind. I've been called worse since I came here." He ordered himself another drink and continued, "As far as our technology is concerned, I'm not much of an expert on the subject either. Mostly, I only know how to operate the machines and that's pretty much the dark of it. I mean, how many mages do you know that can cast spells, but know little or nothing about the principals behind the magic?"

He placed his drink on the bar, "Hmm, I'd have to say the things I am the most proud of in our culture is our medical science. You see, not only do we have no magic where I come from, we are also complete cut off from the Powers. As a result, we could never tap into their gifts of healing. This forced us to rely entirely on alchemy and herbalism, a practice which we have honed to such a fine edge that it could practically work miracles in it's own right." He paused for a second to try and recall anything else the man might find impressive.

"Let's see... Hmm... OH! There is our communications technology. Anyone on our world can potientially contact anyone else on our entire planet and hold conversations even if they are thousands of miles away without scrying magic."

He sighed. "Then, there's our weapons..." He visably winced as he recalled the fates of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. "...which I would rather not talk about..."

After thinking for a minute he finally said, "Nothing else comes to mind, really. Sorry."

Vex hands over the etherblade and says "I'm no fool and you'd be wise not to underestimate me. I understand how fiends think and know that there is a good chance you will attempt to double cross me. However this is a spare etherblade and you would never be able to figure out how to use it on your own."

Vex seems to think for a moment and then continues "I know how to bargain as well, always from a position of power. One must NEVER let your opponent feel they have the upper hand or they will force a high price, you must make them believe they need what you have while you have only a passing interest."

Vex seems to chuckle for a moment before continuing "However I am sure you know all this and therefore I shall inform you I could just as easily go to more "friendly" rivals of yours for the same deal. Another important rule in bargaining is to let your opponent know you have other options." Vex considers for one last moment "I only need a device capable of warding off powerful scrying magic, no more no less."

(OOC:I learned all my bargaining skills from books, I never had a chance to try em. Another thing you should be aware of is the ability of white ethergaunts to find a true name through a few minutes of conversation, not that I'd attempt to try that on another RPer, I've got a good explanation for why it won't work on you in particular though.)

Vex seems to think for a moment and then says "No but thanks for the offer, I shall merely instruct you in the use and creation of etherblades at the time the anti-scrying device is delivered and until then I shall go and speak with the other people here I suppose."

As Vex gets up and starts to walk away he looks back and says "You are rather strange, you have no true name at all. I suppose such a thing can occur when a being cloaks itself in so many lies and deceits that all it's names lose meaning because none of them are really true any more."

Bar

The teifling was very attentive to his new charge. With the half-elf's claim of berk-dom, he stood at the ready to pounce. However, the calm words of this charge turned the tides to his temper. Such released him to once again wait calmly for his drink. However, he kept w weary eye on the jokester.

Lok scoffed for amoment, rolling his eyes at the younger prime.

"Window jumper."

"Sure, and good luck reading it, it's written by a Guvner, so the technical jargon is thicker than an Ooze elemental. Can't say it really covers much about individual portals, but he did do a lot of experiments with in anti-magic fields, and interviewed a couple'a primes. Hope it helps."

He turns back to Edward and says

"Alchemy, eh? I like that a whole lot better than what we got here. Because of my beliefs, healing magic can barely fix a paper cut on me. That's the problem with magic, it relies on belief, and not everyone has that.
Plus just having some priest wave there hands around and making things better is just unnatural, if you think about it. Things don't naturally build up, they fall apart. So if your going to fix something, like say, a body, it only makes sense that you'll need to tear something down, such as plucking an herb out of the ground, or grinding up some mineral. Does that make any sense, or is the bub running away with my tounge?"

Edward frowed his brow as he tried to recall what little he learned about the planes since he arrived a week ago. "Beliefs? So... you are a doomguard, then?" He paused for a second and wondered of he guessed correctly.

Bar

Look sighed and looked back to the rogue Modron, "If you jump out a window, you use an untested portal. It's a... colloquialism.

The teifling tried to follow the threads of all the conversations, but was unable. Instead he just listened to Edward's primary and a few of the more ... disreputable types ... hovering around.

Erte suddenly realized he’d been holding both his breath and his lute since Lok had approached the older man.
He felt nothing less than admiration for these humans at the bar. Stranded, far from home, forced to interact with beings their world rarely experienced outside of nightmares and fantasies. And yet, Edward had already drawn promises of aid from both the spearman and the gnoll. Erte concentrated for a moment before giving a nod toward his lute.
A woman’s voice began speaking, audible only in Edward’s mind. “I am called Dianne of Five Strings. Through your actions, you have given my bearer the greatest gift of all, Edward Davis; you have given him hope. His beliefs require him to acknowledge that gift, and repay it in kind. Erte and I believe that gold could never repay hope, for it can never truly bring hope. Instead, we freely offer alliance; yours to accept or reject as you will. Even if rejected, know you this: you will be defended whenever in Erte or my presence.”
Erte sat back, slid the muting pads back into the lute, and prepared to fulfill his promise if needed. He left the half-full wine glass on the bar.

"I wouldn't doubt it, natural portals are everywhere, that's probly how they're made. However, all portals are inherently magical. From all the things I've heard, you cannot "tear a hole" in the fabric with out magic. That's what magic is, the manipulation of the fabric. If you ask me, the fact that the fabric is getting torn apart in places where it's normally rigid and unchangable, it shows that our fabric is getting eating moths."

At the sound of the -thump!- as the Slaad hits the floor, the Marauder glances over in that direction with some annoyance.

"Go have one of the cooks or servers move that out of the way if you would..."

With that, one of her tieflings walks off to speak with the large, stuffed, and rather talkative dragon head over the bar. Shemeska herself simply glances over to another member of her entourage and opens her mouth. Without a second of hesitation there's a freshly peeled grape on her tongue which she munches on with a faint smile.

Johnathan looked up at the slaad when it yelled, and looked back to what he was doing before when the thing hit the floor.

Sorry, I didn't really mean any entity was eating away at reality. I'm no bard and a moth was just the first thing I could think of that eats away cloth. I was thinking of it more as the cloth being worn away, with holes wearing in it eventually.

'Did I, perhaps, hear about a difficult undertaking?'

An efreet, tall and purple, seems to have appeared near the primes. He crosses his arms, and looks over the group.

'You don't have to be seasoned adventurers, if you're carrying the proper equipment.' Bob commandeers a chair from a nearby table, ignoring the protest that it was for some sod's date, and sits. 'Now, you're going to Baator? What for?'

"My good Gnoll what was your name again" without breaking for a breath Jack continued "Well I guess that doesn't matter quite yet, we'll have plenty of time for that if you decide to join the guild and you pass a few tests. But never mind those quite yet they are assuredly very simple for a seasoned planewalker and even a new berk with a little wit could pass them."

Jack smiled and patted the half elf next to him on the shoulder "Like this book worm here I think you might make an excellent addition to the guild. Discounts with all the best merchants in town, help obtaining that virgin prime you need for that spell or something more fun, and plenty of good company to share a drink with. What do ya say to a free tour of the headquarters?"

Looking a little better after Rrodek's speech, he responds,

"Thanks. I suppose I got a little overwrought there thinking about my situation. I need to make the best of where I am... and it is pretty intriguing to be someplace that I always thought was made-up. I'll try to enjoy myself."

Peter then orders another glass of water, thanking Rrodek again for footing the bill.

Bar

Lok rapped his spear against the ground loudly. He did not raise hsi eyes to anyone communicating with his charge. He did growl a bit however.

"Pattern to the Ladies Shadow," he retorted to the implication that was not aimed toward him, "A Cutter weaves his own path. There are not threads attached. Fairy Tales and weakness hide behind these beliefs. Sir, I would suggest that such cakewalk versions of life are not to be trusted."

Lok's black eyes finally locked on the bard. However, where there should have been some sense of feeling in the teifling, was a placid, even stare.

OOC: I personally like Bards. No Offense intended. Lok is a very tangible-believer.

Bar

Lok gave the bard a quick nod and motioned to Edward with his spear.

"If Worms goes, so go I. Cakewalk or not, such is the Music," Lok stated it as if it were fact written in the Tablets of Time.

OOC: Cool.

Erte stared at Johnathan Void for a moment; a dumbfounded look on his face. Without warning, he bursts into side-splitting laughter. Within seconds, he's quieted down, though occasional bouts of laughter still interrupt as he speaks.
"Sir, you are absolutely correct.... By the Nine... We haven't bothered to find out.... if what we're guarding.... even wants to go!"
For some reason, this seems strikes to strike Erte as incredibly funny, and he continues laughing. But after he had spoken, the smile never quite reaches his eyes.

"Neither, but it's completely orderly and lawful. Your fine there 'till you step out of line. But if you break a law, don't expect any mercy.

In Ba'ator, everythings orderly and lawful, but all the laws are made to make things suffer.

I still suggest you all head off the Guvner headquarters, and see if you can get a "translation," or ask the person who wrote it if he knows any individual portals, but if you all insist on taking the chance of getting yourselves enslaved for all eternity in Ba'ator, stop by the Temple of Corellon Larethian before you head out, my mom's a mage that took to working there, selling magic items to prime elves who find themselves in Sigil. Even though you aren't elven, drop my name, you'll probly get a good discount.

Johnny boy give Edward a blank look, having no idea what heavy machine-gun artillery and reenforced tank armour meant.

He grins realizing that Edward was pointing out that he was the clueless one, not Edward.

Sorry, if I sounded like I was talking down to you, I meant no offense. I just don't want to see anyone suffer that fate, I've seen a few berks who thought they were really smart try to deal with the Ba'atezu and it ain't pretty. If I had the choice of marching through the plane of fire in a suit made of wood, or marching through Jangling Hilter, I'd choose the fire, it won't take your soul.

The wine was good. A fine wine, though most Arborean wines were fine, or better. Even better with fireseeds, of course, but the seeds didn't seem that popular in the inn. The elf wondered if these berks even knew about them. All they did seem to care about was the wine itself. He had to admit, the wine was exceptional, but with the seeds, the taste was nearly indiscribable. Perhaps he should have joined the Sensates.

He looked over at the Factol, still sitting there, apparently doing nothing. What was she thinking of? Was she thinking at all? After all, was Cipher thought not an oxymoron?
Without thought. Thought and action woven together into a string of perfect harmony. The epitomy of harmony. To be like that.
No, the Sensates were fools. The senses, as pleasant as they often were, had no real purpose. They served no real goal. To be without thought, and one with the Cadence, to be whole, that was a goal. A goal worth striving for. A goal to believe in.

The elf looked over at the small group of Primes, who were talking about an expedition to Baator. Or Mechanus, he couldn't remember, exactly. A barmy idea, anyway. But was that not always the way with Primes? No, not always, he had to admit. The elf had met some who weren't completely addle-coved. But then, only a few. The elf wondered what they believed in.

He glanced at the half-elf with a frown. Half-elves. Strange, that an elf could fancy a human, let alone breed with one. But then again, stranger things happened on the planes.

The black-haired elf took a look at his glass, and drank the last sip of firewine in it. He signaled one of the waitresses to get him another one, and passed her the empty glass.

The waitress took her time in brining another drink. The elf suddenly thought of his lump of chaos-matter. He had shaped it into a belt, and it was now hanging around his waist. With a simple mental command, the beld melted into a mass of quicksilver-like metal, that crept up the elf's torso, onto his arms. He willed the stuff onto his hands, shaping bits and pieces into various rings and bracelets, mimicking the jewelry of the King of Crosstrade. He threw a glance at her table, raised an eyebrow, and quickly willed the stuff into a single, simple, yet elegant bracelet. One should not get into trouble with the 'loth. Though it was fun taunting her, from time to time.

The elf looked at the patrons of the inn once more, only to see that the waitress was standing beside him with a glass of wine. She put it on the table in front of him, and he passed the woman a stinger. Ah, wine.