The Fortune's Wheel (Lady's Ward)

The rogue again gets up from the poker table to rejoin the conversation at the bar....it doesn't seem to care if anyone in the game looks at its hand, much less takes its jink.

"Designation Peter.....request processed....commencing brief overview of Sigil. Sigil is a circular shaped city located on the inside rim of the hub atop the spire in the center of the Outlands. The city is divided into six wards. Wards are the most efficient way to keep track of locational coordinates. Ward description follows....
Lower Ward: Ward containing the Great Foundry, former headquarters of the Believers of the Source. Named for the improportionally large numbers of portals to the lower planes located within said ward. Main activity: Production of goods. Further notes: Smog is commonplace and prolongued exposure can weaken the consitution of beings, causing their skin to turn yellow. Processing....Clerk's Ward. Named for record keeping activity that occurs within said ward. Contains the Civic Festhall, former headquarters of the Society of Sensation. Main activity: Accounting. Processing....Market Ward: Named for marketplaces and bartering within the ward. Contains the Great Bazaar, unofficial headquarters of the Free League. Codial relationship with said faction can cause prices for goods to decrease. Main activity: Trading. Processing....Guildhall Ward: Named for guilds located in said ward. Contains the Great Gymnasium, former Headquaters of the Trancendant Order. Main activity: Training of craftsmen. Processing....Hive Ward. Named for the poor and mentally imbalanced living in said ward. Contains the Mortuary, former head quarters of the Dustmen. Main activity: None. Warning: The Hive can be considered the most dangerous to travelers. Processing....Lady's Ward. Named for the political activity in said ward. Emphasis on the importance of politics is likened to the Lady of Pain. Contains the City Court, former headquarters of the Fraternity of Order. Main activity: Politics. Further notes: Considered the 'safest' ward due to the presence of the most powerful postions in the city. Consequentially, the ward is patrolled more efficiently than any other. Overview complete. Awaiting any and all queries of said wards."

"Processing......request processed. Suggestion: Go to the Hall of Records for any information pertaining to Mechanus. Elaboration: The Hall is divided into twenty one bureaus. There is a 99.98% chance your question will be answered satisfactorily by Outer Planes Relations, the bureau which deals primarily with trade regulations, diplomatic relations, and treaties between the outer planes and Sigil. Cost of service: Eight silver pieces."

A tallish, sleek man walks in, pausing to take in the scene.....a modron drawing the attention of a small group of people at the bar, a poker game thats seem to be going no where, looks like there're waiting for someone, THE marauder with the accompanying servants. He moves to the guest book, casually scanning over the names and then signing his own, just Kal.

Walking up to the bar he asks for a glass of water and if anything interesting has hasppend tonight so far to the barman. A reply of not really seems a little surprising but he just shurgs, hands the barman a couple of coins and leans back upon the bar looking around the inn.

Entirely unbidden, a telepathic voice echoes in the minds of the cutters currently talking with Nordom, including the modron itself. Smooth and personable (for a Yugoloth) the voice says, "I couldn't help but overhear you looking for information of a sort. I do believe I could help you for a nominal fee or gesture in return. Or if you'd do me the pleasure of simply sitting to chat I could offer my suggestions for where best to get your information if you'd prefer not to directly deal with me."

Over at her table, The Marauder's lackies scurry to place additional chairs at her table along with empty glasses.

"I'm over here in the razorvine tiara and the green dress. Can't miss me..."

Again, over at her table The Marauder pleasantly smiles and seems ever the gracious host.

The rogue turns to Peter. "Fears are well founded. Advisory parameters: Please allow Nordom to converse for the party. Nordom, though rogue, is still well conversed with legal contracts. Warning! Prime priority! DO NOT SIGN OR AGREE VERBALLY TO ANYTHING! Signature of any kind results in an everage 99.9999% chance of damnation. Nordom will attempt to create a mutually beneficial agreement using currency as prime exchange of services." The rogue *Clanks!* its way across the room, and sits in a chair directly opposite the King of the Crosstrade. It looks the 'loth square in the eye with no hint of emotion.
"Greetings, Shemeska, I extend cordial invitations to discuss a possible arrangement. Please be advised: Nordom has recently decided to reset behavioral parameters to coincide with a more 'good' alignment. Result: Nordom will not entertain any deals or contracts that require 'favors'."

OOC: "Signature of any kind results in an average 99.9999% chance of damnation."- Nordom

You made my morning.

ooc: True, but then there's also a 0.0001% chance that signing something will get us a wicked sweet deal. I just can't pass that up.

Shemeska waits till her newest guests have taken a seat before she affects an exasperated expression of exaggerated dismay and daintily places one hand, painted claws and all, on one cheek and the other across her breast.

"Well, you've found me out and ruined my plans to steal your souls and sell your mortal shells to the dusties for a few coppers. I'm shocked that you'd see through my plans so easily. Clearly I'm dealing with uncommonly shrewd mortals, and an uncommonly 'thinking for itself' modron."

She takes a sip of wine before addressing them all again, smiling more genuinely this time. "That out of the way, I don't recognize all of you and I like to make it a point to know everyone who walks in here. Clearly my reputation preceeds me. I know things and I'll buy or sell such knowledge from anyone with a bit of it filling their skulls."

She gestures for one of her tieflings to pour drinks for all at the table, than gestures for another to delicately place another freshly peeling grape onto her waiting tongue. She swallows it with a smile and speaks, "I'm to understand that you're looking for a small bit of information. I'm in possession of such and I'm willing to give it to you. Nothing is free though, but all I'd ask in return is for you to tell me a bit about yourselves and maybe answer a few questions if I have any. No favors, no contracts, just a bit of friendly chatting."

The fiend smiles, showing off her pearly white jackal-like fangs behind thinly painted lips. "No need to be concerned, I won't bite."

Vex looks at Edward "I'd be careful if I were you, Shemeska isn't like anyone on your world. I'm rather familiar with your world, I was a scout, or a spy if you perfer that definition."

Suddenly a feeling of immense sadness seems to radiate from Vex "I deeply regret the things I have done and am glad your world won. The first time I ever felt defeat, that was what first started me along this path of rebellion against my race and repentance towards all those we have harmed."

Vex seems to sigh and continues "I would also suggest not telling Shemeska anything about your world, imagine what would happen if she got hold of one of your weapons. I remember the nuclear bomb you used on our invasion force, I was the only one to survive because I was still working from within as a spy."

"Quite the sarcastic one, aren't we, Shemeska? Not that I mind, I find it fairly amusing. You'll have to excuse Nordom as well, he can be rather rigid like that at times.

"Anyway, I can't believe I forgot to introduce myself, I am Rrodek. I am not very well known, but you may or may not have heard of me through the grape vine.

"And as for chatting, I'd be more then willing to, a good conversation is always something worth hanging around for. I'm not much of a conversation starter though, so if you have anything you'd like to ask, I'll answer if it's reasonable to do so."

OOC: I assume that any communication to or from the ethergaunt that involves the word "look" is done telepathically.

Edward glanced in Alex's direction and gave him a very sharp look as if to say Bite your Tongue! We'll talk about it later. The subject seemed to strike a nerve with him...

On Shemeska's que he replied as he gently took her outstretched hand in respect, carefully trying not to ruffle her fur (he heard she was the vain type), "Edward will do fine. Only my students had ever really called me Davis." He continued, "As to why I'm in Sigil, that was purely unintentional I can assure you. About a week ago, I simply feel asleep in my bed and when I awoke I found myself in the city, house and all. I almost feel like Dorothy---"

He paused when he remembered it was a good chance that no one in Sigil had ever read The Wizard of Oz. He mentally reprimanded himself and said, "I was under the impression that Sigil's portals only transported people. Do large things, like houses, come through often?"

Damn double post!

Vex looks at Edward "You seem unconvinced, I understand your bias however. My race has done a lot of bad things..."

Vex continues "I know! I shall assist you in your negotiations. I start my penance now."

BAR

A slender tiefer enters Fortune’s Wheel by the main entrance and approaches the guest book. His long hair, apparently woven in thick black locks, moves as if in a breeze. A closer look reveals his ‘hair’ is actually a writhing mass of medusa-like black serpents. The tiefer is dressed head to toe in mud-splattered, well-worn traveling leathers.

In a manner that suggests he’s done this a thousand times, he flips through the guestbook, surveying the names of today’s patrons. After finding whatever name he’s looking for, he quickly scratches “E.S.” on the first empty line before entering the bar.

He makes his way across the room, heading towards the Arcanaloth’s table, withdrawing a slender scrollcase and a small leather-wrapped parcel from his satchel as he walks.

He pauses in plain sight of the fiend, perhaps ten feet away from the table and waits patiently for an invitation to speak by the fiend or one of her servants.

Enzo Sarlas

The 'loth's attempt to reach out mentally to the tiefer is denied by mind-shielding magic of some sort. The tiefer is seemingly unaware of her attempt to communicate telepathically with him.

The tiefer, noting that the 'loth is deep in conversation, approaches one of her staff. "Please inform your employer that my name is Enzo Sarlas, from the Runners' Guild, and I have a message for her. I will wait until she has a moment." With that said, the tiefer puts the scrollcase and package back in his satchel
and heads over to the bar.

He acknowledges Rhys with a friendly, "Lady's Grace, Madam Chairman." He pauses uncertainly, then emboldens himself to offer, "I'm headed back to the Clerk's Ward once I'm finished here. Do you have anything to send back?"

OOC - Check out Enzo in the Character Index for a bit of background. While this is Enzo's first encounter with the 'loth, she may have heard of him through her dealings with Autochon.

The rogue turns its attention towards Peter, its pupils dialating before Nordom speaks.

"Please be advised: discussing your home prime world is not recommended; said remark that present social interaction between ourselves and Shemeska is a 'simple chat' is a lie. Designation: Shemeska is using said interaction to gain insight into your personal situation and deduce how said insight would be beneficial to Shemeska's present source of information that many would prefer to be kept secret."
The rogue turns back to the fiend. "Shemeska, please be advised: Nordom does not desire designation: Peter or Edward to be manipulated. Please direct any future queries to me."
Nordom's crossbow companions begin to click at a relaxed pace, and the rogue acknowledges them before turning back to Peter. "Peter, please be aware, the name of this city is pronounced SIG-uhl, not SIDJ-uhl."

*Rrodek crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on them. Turning his head toward Shemeska, he speaks.*

"Well, Shemeska... I came here to Sigil because I chose to. I had been wandering the planes for a number of years up until now and wanted to settle down here in Sigil for a while to be able to fully absorb all that I have come across. Probably not very long by your standards, only around 50 years I was out there, but none the less, I have now come here to find a permenant place of residence...

"As for why I'm in this festhall, I'm staying in the inn upstairs while I read some of the literature I have come across in my travels and look for a place to stay. I'm bound to come down here anyway, so when I do I just look for someone to speak with should I feel like it.

"Since this whole situation involves me, thought I might as well at least sit in on things as I'm going to be accompanying the group up until whoever chooses to, goes through that portal to Pete's homeworld."

Johnathan turns his ears to the conversation going on between his acquaintances, and the yugoloth (Hooray racial bonus to listen checks!). Even though they seemed fairly well lanned, for primes at least, he doubted that they were ready to start making deals with fiends. He'd been on the planes since birth, and he was still hesitant to even be in the same room with a fiend.

He knew that there wasn't much he could do to help, (he was never any good at talking his way out of things), but he thought he'd listen just in case. He really didn't want to see them get in trouble with fiends, they seemed like good folk.

Nordom turned to the good doctor...

"Businesswoman: A female being whose profession involves the acquisition of a profit. Affrimative. Flaw: Most business women are content with a monetary profit. Shemeska would prefer a spiritually corrupting one."

Through the door comes a tall figure, easily recognized as a "mind flayer" at a glance, but as the light adjusts around it, seemingly slower than light reasonably should, it is apparent that this creature is no longer among the living. The illithid's skin is dry, chalky and covered in complex tattoos, rather than slick with psionically-charged mucus. He is dressed as most flayers are, with dark robes of ochre and black, rising into a high, framing collar behind his head, and accented with gold, gems, and skulls. In his right hand is a chain, apparently of mithril, that leads to the collar of a well-dressed, clean-shaven human, whose bald head is also covered in complex tattoos. He pauses for a moment, and a subtle wave of psionic power eminates from his brow, and he turns to point at the sign-in book. The human nods silently, and proceeds to the book, and drawing forth the quill, writes:

Jaspar Arelius, Alhoon Planeswalker.
Ibid, Thrall of Jaspar.

The human looks back at the alhoon, who nods once. The human turns, and sits at the bar. "Food please. My master has given me permission to eat my fill. He will pay for my feed."

As his thrall awaits his meal, the alhoon releases the chain, and proceeds towards Shemeska. As he does, he reaches out to her telepathically.

"Ah, Shemeska. Hello again. I have returned from my latest jaunt into the Inner Planes, and I find you unoccupied I hope? Well, no matter, once you are done with your games with these beings, we will speak of more important things."

With this done, he finds himself a seat, and waits, never ordering anything for himself, merely waiting, trailing a long, chalky finger over the long shard of jasper set in his necklace.

Jaspar turns his head slightly, his layer of divination spells(crafted for survival on the Inner Planes) registering a vast increase in Elemental Fire in the area. Fixing his black eyes upon Incenjucar, he takes in the details of his form, and cross-references it against his time on Fire, looking for some memory of this being.

((OOC: Hey, Incenjucar! Guess who finally found this place. ))

(EDIT: Also, Jaspar's rather well warded versus fire at the moment. FR 20. Just got in from the edge between Positive and Radiance in a massive pocket of wild magic.)

The 'loth once again puts a hand on one cheek and another across her breast with a look of faux astonishment. "Once again I'm found out and caught in the act. And I'd thought that modrons would be so logical and predictable that they'd be so easy to fool. Shame on me."

Shemeska takes a long sip of her wine before continuing, "Speak up if you wish, if not then don't."

She listens to the Gnoll's reasons for being in the city and nods politely before looking over at Edward again. "Oh don't worry your mortal head dear, fiend or not we didn't find anything there to really justify staying around for anything more than siteseeing. It's a rather droll place, magic didn't work quite as well, and you're all doing your best on self damnation without our efforts honestly being needed."

She shrugged, "But yes, I consider myself a businesswoman, an investor of sorts, and a dozen other things that are perfectly legitimate enterprises. Just because I'm an evil fiend doesn't mean I go around in every spare moment eating mewling mortal babies, causing paladins to forsake their vows and clerics to lose their faith."

The Marauder smiles, showing her prominant fangs and then adds almost as an afterthought, "Though there is the occasional vacation..."