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Old Jul 3rd, 2016, 03:35 PM
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The Ubiquitous Wayfinder

With entrances in three different wards of Sigil the tavern you find yourself in, The Ubiquitous Wayfinder, is a common meeting place for planewalkers and a tavern many newcomers find themselves stumbling into. Assuming they survive long enough to stumble anywhere. Whether you are one of the clueless, fresh off your prime world and adrift in the multiverse, or a seasoned blood who has seen it all, you can usually get a reasonably safe drink and meal here.

Today the atmosphere is improved by a lovely creature singing a haunting song in Celestial tongue. Even those who cannot speak it can hear the threads of loss and sadness through the words, and all but the most hardened feel a twinge of sympathy for the creature though they don't know why. Each of you is here to meet this creature, having been met by messengers, informed by your faction, or otherwise told that there is a job possibility. The exact nature of the job isn't clear but the message included a gift for each of you that serves as a deposit and sign of how serious the offer is.

 


 
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Old Jul 3rd, 2016, 04:02 PM
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In the Bazaar where I belong...
A strange creature awaits patiently behind a table set up in the throngs of other merchants who all shout out their wares in the middle of the already loud market place. He has no such voice and therefor escapes much notice as patrons and customers quickly pass him by. He stands with both sets of arms crossed, and mandibles clicking impatiently as he psychically scans for potential clients amid the racket of booming shouts.

He senses someone is looking for something unique. His head turns and his compound rest upon curious shopper. His antenae dance as he sends message, hoping to draw the patron closer to himself.

***Interesting Cultural Artefacts. Unique Crystal found nowhere else. Artistically crafted, gem setted.***


The man who is carrying a few bags already wavers and looks about bewildered, trying to see if anyone has noticed him going insane.

***You are NOT going insane. I am speaking to you. Over here, the big insect to your right***

The man looks around somewhat scared, and locks eyes with Xia. Xia in turn waves and motions him forth.

Like a shy zombie, the man shuffles forth and gazes upon Xia'Wa, not once looking upon his table of wares. His thoughts are unguarded, and he cannot help but think Ew. Gross. Which of course the Thri-Kreen has learned to dismiss. When he first emerged upon these streets, he was absolutely horrified that all these creatures were walking around with their muscles on the outside. That is just gross.

But he doesn't need to mention that. Calling customers gross is terrible marketing.
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Old Jul 4th, 2016, 11:19 AM
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Mistral slips into the tavern quietly, taking a position in the corner as she settles in to listen to the Lillend sing, offering the beautiful serpentine woman a smile. Mistral is more familiar with the Lillendi than the average Sigil Basher - partly because a Lillend was the first person she met in the Cage, partly because she's run messages for the Fated to their home base in Ysgard, and the place is full of them.

She sits alone, at first, examining each of her fellow patrons of fine arts and awful beer in turn, looking for a sign of who else the Lillend - obviously the person who was offering the work - might have hired. She lets her gaze drift across the crowd, looking for those who stand out, and those who specifically don't; in her experience, Bloods generally fall into one category or the other. She notes a brightly dressed, ash-skinned gnome, a man in heavy dark armour a... bug of some description? A woman with bird skulls hanging around her neck and another woman, who would look inconspicuous, if not for the tiny, bronze-scaled dragon on her shoulder.

Well, at least they're easy to spot... Mistral sighs, repressing the urge to cringe slightly at how painfully obvious her likely future colleagues are. Although the Genasi doesn't exactly blend into a crowd with her blue-grey skin and the glowing szuldar etched into her skin, at least she tries, wearing a deep hooded coat that manages to be concealing without screaming the fact that she's hiding her face. She looks around again for signs of any other potential recruits or trouble before she makes her way over to introduce herself to the gnome.

"Good afternoon. Mistral, I'm a Chant-broker," She sticks a hand out to the gnome, slipping her hood back just enough that she can look him in the eye. "She's a lovely singer, isn't she?"
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Old Jul 4th, 2016, 04:13 PM
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She really should have learned Celestial. But then, she had better things to do back home.

Danni does not drink. Taverns make her feel uncomfortable, but outside of pomegranate juice, water is her go-to beverage. While not new to Sigil and the Outer Planes—six months certainly has blunted her utter wonder at the city—she is still befundled by the language of the saints and angels. It is a gorgeous language, even if it is appropriating of almost every kind of good from every Mortal plane. Or maybe they appropriate. She can't be certain, but either way, it is wrong.

Being in Sigil has changed Dannika. She was always active in promoting the benefits of treating the undead as equals. Imagine: a perfect society in which the living and the dead worked together to till fields, to build homes. The undead do not tire, they do not complain. They only ask for sustenance. If only they weren't treated as monsters and abominations, they could be treated as an equal. Of course, improper behavior from the undead had to be tempered, but Danni was willing to work with them. Some etiquette has to be taught no matter the culture or state of mortality.

The Dustmen were here home. Are her home. She's not certain. She enjoys their philosophy, enjoys the idea of True Death, but she believes that she can go beyond that. They all can. Her immediate superior, a Mongrelman named Barf, told her to be her, at the Ubiquitous Wayfinder. A wight himself, he is much respected in Sigil amongst Dustmen and their neophytes like Danni. Giving her a potion—strange, given the nature of death, True Death, and healing: healing prevents death—he told her to be here. And here she is.

She came early. The song dissuades her from making a ruckus, as it is quite magical, but she's sure she will regret it later. Mostly she's just too sad and sorrowful to do so. Biting her lips, untouched by make-up today, she watches as others come in. One who came in not long after her was the strange insectoid, stranger than anything she has ever seen before, even in Sigil, and seems to look at a man in such a way as to drive him mad. Squinting her eyes, she tries to understand. Why would the look of that thing drive a man mad? Why weren't they all going mad? Perhaps it's something else, a kind of magic, or psionic, since that's apparently a thing, power in the species? What kind of world produced this creature?

She must speak to the other creature, the one she is to meet: the Lillend, gorgeous and amazing and singing that she is. At last, gathering her courage, she goes to the creature, introduces herself, and after the blue woman (is that a real Sylph?), and carrying her bag of things on her back and her spellbook before her, and is directed to the insectoid and the blue woman.

"She is. I wonder if it's her original language, though, or if the song was originally in that tongue. I'll have to study it more." She smiles, hugging her spellbook to her, the bone necklace about her neck landing on top of it. "My name is Arabella Dannika Morbidos, but you can call me Danni. Please. Not any of those other nicknames." No one has any idea what those nicknames are, but she insists on it.
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Old Jul 5th, 2016, 05:36 AM
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As Gummywort Thistledown strides through the doors of the Ubiquitous Wayfinder, he grins at the familiar bustle of a good crowd. The ‘finder wasn’t his favorite brewhouse (that distinction belonged to the Wandering Aye Pub, indeed it was almost his second home), but it was safely in his top ten. For one thing, it had the advantage of always being just around the corner, relatively speaking, no matter where one happened to find oneself. Which was helpful when one unexpectedly found oneself in immediate need of a pint, or to escape a pinch.

With practiced ease he leaps onto a small footstool beside the post nearest the entrance, then launches himself up to latch onto the torch sconce anchored to said post. Hanging one-handed from the sconce, one foot bracing against the beam, Gummy surveys the room. He never envies the tall-folk their height (all those gangly arms and legs make a body too clumsy, to his mind), but elevation sometimes was an asset. He meets the gaze of several long-time acquaintances during his scan. They smile and raise a mug to him, he grins and doffs his hat to them in return.

No time for idle chat right now, though. He was here on business. Yes, he was even dressed for it today! For some reason, many times in the past, when Gummy had met with a prospective employer they tended to doubt that he could be trusted to complete a task. For some reason they felt his choice of wardrobe indicated an unstable nature. (As if having senses and humor and style precluded one from having a sense of duty.) But this time would be different. For this meeting he had dressed in business attire! His ensemble consisted of his usual crimson smoking jacket and indigo pantaloons, but added to the mix was a Power Red cravat, a Power Red top hat, and a Power Red monocle. (The monocle was the key. Sporting a monocle, one couldn’t fail to appear distinguished if one tried!). Gummy felt he was figuratively dripping with gravitas.

The deep gnome’s sharp ears picks out the haunting strains of the lillend’s song before he spies her (what’s the song about? It sounds beautifully, achingly morose!) Having located his objective, he descends from his perch then weaves his way through the crowd. As he draws near, he inhales to offer a greeting to his future employer, but is cut short by an outstretched hand that is thrust into his view. His eyes travel up the arm and across the shoulder to discover the face of… he believes an Air Genasi (he’d experienced one in the Sensorium). It takes him a moment to register that she has both offered an introduction and posed a question.

Before he can recover to respond, someone else provides an answer. And also some commentary on language, followed by her own intriguingly restrictive introduction.

Gummy pauses a moment to allow for any further unexpected greetings, then lightly clasps the genasi’s hand. “Well met, fair maidens!” He sweeps his hat low in a flourish, and raises Mistal’s hand to lightly kiss the air above her fingers. He releases his grip and offers a similar bow to the one who most be called only ‘Danni’. “Gummywort Thistledown, at your service! Well, in point of fact, not actually at your service per se. I anticipate being presently at the service of the lovely lillend.” He glances sidelong at each of their faces for a reaction. “Mayhap we have this anticipation in common, yes?”
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Old Jul 7th, 2016, 05:48 PM
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On a bench in a corner of the tavern lolled a young woman smoking a pipe. She did not seem to pay much attention to the other patrons in the room and idly blew smoke into the air above, regularly reclining with her eyes closed. Huddled between her shoulders and the wall was a live, miniature dragon. The creature occasionally stretched its long neck to sniff the pipe and then recoiled with a little hiss, shaking its head. Ethyxil had been very insistent on being allowed in, and while the innkeeper had needed some convincing to let him stay, he had eventually succumbed to the charm of a telepathic little dragonet who promised very earnestly to be on his best behaviour.

Chathi had been paying little attention to the bustle around her, immersing herself in the enjoyment of song and tobacco. It was only after finishing and putting away her pipe that she surveyed the other guests, and immediately her eye was caught by the flamboyantly dressed appearance of a little grey-skinned man in conversation with two women. An amused smile lit up on her face, and Chathi rose to stroll over to the group. ""Gummy Thistledown. Fancy seeing you here!" she greeted him with a bright smile although she was approaching from behind. "Well, I shouldn't be surprised, I s'pose."

Then she looked over Gummy's head at the other two women. "I'm Chathi. Nice to meet you!" she preempted any introduction. The little dragon that had wrapped itself around her shoulders stretched out its neck as if it were trying to look under Mistral's hood.
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Old Jul 8th, 2016, 11:59 PM
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A man with a close-faced helm steps into the tavern. He is garbed in blood-red armor that is covered by a cloak that is slightly brighter flowing down to his ankles, but not quite touching the floor. A polearm of some sort rests in the crux of his arm extending beyond his shoulder and slightly past his head. The blade of the polearm is wrapped in a protective cloth which makes the weapon less menacing. But obviously the red knight was not to be meddled with.

Stopping by the entryway, he surveys the scene, not moving an inch from the first step into the room. He makes a note of all the potential threats, troublemakers, and allies as well as areas for cover and fortification. His military training and his dark past has forced him to consult his survival instincts in any situation for there has been situations like this, that are seemingly benign that have turned into a battlefield filled with bloodshed and death.

Erik walks into the room and takes a seat at one of the booths that give him a wide vantage point of the room. With his back to the wall, he removes his helmet, revealing a man with a neatly trimmed beard and brown tousled hair. Waving for a waitress he proceeds to order a meal and an ale.
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Old Jul 10th, 2016, 10:31 AM
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"More than likely." Mistral replies coolly, glad that she is wearing her gloves - she's been in Sigil, stewing in a mire of excreted respiration, for long enough that she can control her reaction, but that doesn't mean that she wants to feel someone breathing all over her hand.

"Mistral." The young sylph repeats her name for Chathi's benefit, tucking her hands in her pockets with a nod of acknowledgement to the sorceress, although her focus was more on the dragonet. "So, how did each of you come to be recruited by a Lillend?" Mistral saves her own story for last, partly because she wants to know what Factions these strangers might be allied with before she reveals her own, partly out of a deep-rooted dislike of sharing information before she has been paid in kind. "I wager the knight in the..." Mistral pauses, glancing at Gummy's garish outfit before she chooses her adjectives, "... Red armour is also here for the Lillend's job, let's go introduce ourselves, and chat a while, while we wait for the Lillend to finish."
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Old Jul 11th, 2016, 12:59 AM
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The Gnome speaks up to them, and Danni can but raise a brow. There were few where she came from, and not of his variety, to be certain. A Deep Gnome, was it? She can't remember, but it probably doesn't matter. Exact taxonomy is a fool's errand. "Indeed, very much that in common. Well-met, Gummywort. Or do you prefer Gummy? I know some are caught up in their naming habits." She smiles through her own blush. And then another approaches, seemingly using the same strategy that Danni herself used, introducing herself as Chathi. A dragon wrapped around her brings curiosity; what kind of woman can tame a dragon like that? "Shiny. Does it have a name? Gender? What kind of draconic is it? Not a True Dragon, unless it's immature, but it could be." She realizes she's talking, too fast and too much, and with too many questions. A wiser course would not to be to ask so much so soon.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notes the man in the red armor, shiny and unlike any she's seen before; but in the end, it is only a man within. She had, secretly, hoped for an automaton, but she does nothing but turn away, back towards the conversation. Tempted those she is, he probably has nothing to do with their supposed mission. But then Mistral speaks up and suggests that he is. How she discerned such a thing Danni can't be sure, but different people have different skills. It's strange, but she doesn't trust assumptions. "You think?" But she might as well go chat with the red knight. She strides over, leading the group towards him.

"A strange set of armor. By its design I think it has significance, but I can't discern what without explicit symbology. Are you part of some order? Some faith militant? Or do you just like fanciful armors? I must say, it is quite dashing. Not... that... I mean you. I mean, not that you're not, but I mean, I think the armor is rather well designed, and I wanted to know more, and now... You're here on the mission for the Lillend too, aren't you?"

Gods below, who lets her talk?
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Old Jul 11th, 2016, 07:52 PM
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Gummy nods pleasantly at the Mistral's response, then answers Danni.

"Oh, you can call me Gummywort, or Gummy, or even G-money, as I'm known in some corners of the Cage. Or, if you're feeling inspired, make up a nickname for me." Gummy's head tilts in thought. "Though if you DO wish to give me a nickname, I'll have to reserve the right to reject it. You'd be amazed to know how many folk turn this opportunity for creative expression into an exercise of crude insults! Why, there was this one particularly oafish baatezu..."

Gummy's prattling shows no sign of abating when a familiar voice catches his ear. Turning around, his gaze travels up the form of the woman who (most recently) offered him greeting. His already wide smile splits into an impossibly broad grin.

"Chathi Sefrian!!", he exclaims, "Will you be joining us for our unknown endeavor? How marvelous!"

When the genasi's comment directs his attention to the armored figure, Gummy lets out a low whistle of appreciation.

Now THAT is what I call a business suit of armor! He's a lock to be tapped for the job. A sudden panicked thought jolts Gummy's mind. Wait... how many people will this Lillend employ? The numbers are starting to grow a bit large for a normal job. I don't want to get left out!!

Quickly he scans the rest of the group, then exhales in relief. It's ok. Aside from Mr. Business over there, I'm wearing the most Power Red, by far. If someone is getting left behind, it won't be me.

For a moment he feels a stab of pity for any that should be left behind, but then instantly brightens again with the thought that all his experiences will be recorded in the sensory stones. So no one will REALLY be left out.

With that happy thought, he re-focuses his attention to the conversation in time to hear Danni pose a question to Mr. Business. He files away Mistal's question about his recruitment to be answered a bit later, and waits for the red figure's response.
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Old Jul 12th, 2016, 03:35 AM
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The red-armored man looks up from apparently staring at the seat in front of him. For the first time you see his eyes, the color of which is a ligh glacier blue which contrasted sharply with his dark brown hair so greatly that they looked slightly unnatural. It's as if part of his soul has left him leaving the outward husk of a man. It's with these eyes that he matches Danni's gaze.

Filtering through the small talk, he seems to not notice her flirtatious efforts, but instead only answers her last question which he deemed the most important. "Yes." The one word that leaves his mouth is cold and efficient, not inviting further conversation. He does however smile ever so slightly which is out of place considering the context. Even though his body language was open and he was making and holding eye contact, his soul is buried beneath layers and layers of distrust and betrayal. And it's almost as if it wants to become the person he used to be, but can't break through.
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Old Jul 13th, 2016, 04:29 AM
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As Mistral did not pay any attention to him, Ethyxil turned to the other woman, who had just spoken about him. He eyed her skeptically, tilting his head from one side to the other. "I'll have you know I'm right here," Danni could eventually hear in her mind. As she was, however, turning away already to approach the red-armoured knight, Ethyxil looked after her in confusion and gave a quiet hiss of dissatisfaction.

Chathi smiled and looked to the side briefly, raising her hand to touch his nose. "I'm sure she didn't mean to be rude. As you can see, she's a bit... volatile", she muttered appeasingly in Sylvan, the language she was used to speaking to her companion and which she had, in fact, learned from him.

She followed hesitantly in the direction of the table where the knight was sitting, and while it was somehow endearing to listen to Danni's introduction, she lost interest when the man utterly failed to support a conversation. Some people were just better dealt with on a strictly professional basis, and she had no patience for taking pains to turn it into anything else. Not when he wasn't even handsome.

She turned to Mistral instead, smiling openly at her. "Well, I figured you make the world a nicer place by helping a lillend, no? They're the better singers, so it's better if they sing while I solve their problem than the other way around. We're doing a terrible thing talking over the song, by the way." It was obvious, though, that she wasn't speaking too seriously, and that she had no intention of actually stopping. "How about yourself, though?"

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Old Jul 17th, 2016, 01:10 PM
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Danni did not expect the voice in her head. It is not the first she's encountered though, and likely it will not be the last time she has a strange voice in her head. But there it is. "O-oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—I was just trying to categorize, you see, and, um—I... I apologize." She smiles, as the sorceress speaks in Sylvan. Danni perks up at that. "Indeed, I meant no distress. It's just sometimes I say more than I mean to, and it's because I'm trying to understand what's happening around me, and talking it out, like actually talking, sometimes helps my mind move faster because talking is just clutter and organized thoughts whereas abstract thought is less cohesive, so it leaves more room for that in my head. And I'm doing it again, aren't I?" She chuckles, blushing and shaking her head. "Nice to meet you both, at any rate." Her smile begins with the draconic creature, but ends with its companion, the sorceress.

And so, as a near enough group, they head over to the red-armored man, and Danni once more bumbles her way through a conversation with him. Only to receive a singular response. Well, that's good. Less guilt is applied when one only answers "yes," but it does beg the question of whether or not she's doing anything wrong. Her mind wanders from that question instantly and goes back to polite conversation, as Chathi takes initiative. Danni smiles through the question, but has no intention of revealing that she has no interest in questions of ethics. Good and evil? They lack utility. She has better things to worry about, and a dark fear creeps in the back of her mind. What if they don't accept her, like everyone else? Even the Dustmen seemed annoyed with her, though not for the usual reasons. That was refreshing. But with this group, she begins to wonder already if she'll ever find a home in her companionship.

"It is nice, isn't it? The song, I mean." She speaks over it without thinking, but quickly catches herself from going further.
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Old Jul 22nd, 2016, 12:31 AM
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Mistral raises her eyebrows at Chathi's sentimentality.

"I'm repaying an old favour." She replies with a shrug. "And my people prefer to keep on the good side of her people. Two birds, one stone and all that."

Danni's chattiness is beginning to verge on alarming - Mistral is habitually tight-lipped, and while she is used to people saying more than she in any given situation, what they say is usually at least tangentially useful - all that Danni has revealed is that she speaks Sylvan and her brain is too small for her thoughts - possibly for any thoughts, if she needs to go on such a ramble to explain why she rambles, Mistral thinks uncharitably. At least Red Armour doesn't waste air on blathering - he may be rude, but to Mistral, that is the lesser sin. Gummy seems like he would be talkative as well but thus fair has remained largely quiet, and Chathi seems tolerable - for a human - aside from the sentimental streak.
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Old Jul 25th, 2016, 02:31 AM
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Ethyxil visibly recoiled from the onslaught of verbiage that Danni thrust upon him, his head shortly reappearing on Chathi's other shoulder. Chathi merely made a dismissive gesture. "Ah, dont fret it."

...

"Oh, so you know her personally? Or her family?", Chathi asked, visibly intrigued, having apparently misapprehended Mistral's meaning. Such were the occasional deficiencies of the planar trade language.
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