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Once upon a Time there was an old Man, who lived and worked in the kingdom's capital. He enjoyed chatting with friends, but often got annoyed by rude randos he couldn't bar from posting. So, one day he had a crafty idea..
This is getting long
Games anyone?
Save vs. die spells? Efreeti gold factories? New Coke vs. Classic?
Edwin smiles at his old familiar "Very well Swift, take care and I will speak to you soon." Mystery meows a farewell. Spoiler:
::Safe huntings and may the Cat Lord grant you much prey to play with!:: Swift enters the darkening lane. The light that surrounds Sigil is almost gone, a faint grey shadow is all that is left. The Cage Fog has returned in force while Swift drank tea with her friends, the outlines of the surrounding buildings blurred and indistinct. Fortunately, Copper Court is not far off, and Swift hurries through the gathering gloom to her adventuring companions. The wide avenue of Copperman Way is thronged with revelers and street minstrels now, the festive air of Before Antipeak in full swing. Swift can see the arch of Sigil rearing up in front of her, the far side of the Cage lit with fires like a starry summer sky squeezed tight into a narrow band. Swift turns down Copper Court and heads quickly towards the Silver Rose. As she heads down the darkened court, she notices from the half-open door of the Copper Cauldron that it is full of dinner patrons. She can just hear on the edge of her sharp hearing a snatch of Mercutio's squeeky Draconic. She pauses to check in the door and sees her new friends all sitting down to a ham supper. She enters the door.
The old wizard smiles at Swift. "Not at all my dear, I am happy to help you. Just tell me where this Mr. Sage dwells and I will persue the matter over the next few days." Mysyery ambles over towards Swift, sitting by her and licking a paw nonchalantly. Swift can tell the small cat is pleased with her flattery. She meeps and purrs softly Feline:
Spoiler:
::Bring me several small mice to play with/eat and a pint of quality cream and I will attend to your task.:: Swift becomes aware that the light in the parlor has diminished as she has sat here and visited with Edwin. The sourceless light of Sigil's day is almost gone, the darker hours of Before Antipeak are at hand.
The elderly wizard ponders for a moment, his impressive white eyebrows joining together in a V above his craggy nose. "I'll tell you what Swift. I can inquire of my few contacts and see if this Mr. Sage has anything nefarious going on. I do have a few resources at my disposal, but putting them into play will take time." Edwin looks at the small cat now rubbing his ankles in a sinuous curving pattern. "Perhaps Mystery here will consent to act as a spy. I don't like to let her out since she takes long holidays and I worry so, but you might be able to talk to her cat to cat as it were." Mystery meeps and meows Feline
Spoiler: ::I am a proud warrior cat. I tolerate this smelly monkey for his opposable thumbs. He tries to lock me up because like all monkeys he wishes to possess what he cannot understand. However, if a noble cat-cousin like yourself should need assistance, I will try to help. For the proper fee of course.::
"Bess," Karrin calls over, "did Swift come by to look after my cat? She said she would but I didn't see her over at the company place." Bess looks up from her work at the brazier. "Luv, I ain't seen that cutter since you all showed heels back this Beforepeak. Can't say as I've seen yer cat either, but there's plenty of places a cat can go to ground in this old pile."
The common room of the Copper Cauldron fills up as Before Antipeak nears. The dimming light brings tired apprentices, tradesman and laborers off the thouroughfare and into the confines of the inn. Bess runs a tight ship, her generous portions and reasonable prices drawing a wide clientele. Ramona brings the table a large selection of provender. Ffethpaar gets his fish chowder and baked cod, everyone else gets generous slices of roast pork, baked potatoes cooked in the hearth ashes, and a heaping portion of mixed greens and carrots. A small wheel of sharp cheese, several of Bess' homemade bread loaves and a crock of large pickles complete the repast. Ffethpaar gets his berry juice, and everyone else is supplied with the drinks they desire. The conversation stays lively, everyone swapping tales of their homes before reaching Sigil. Hanali starts to mention the interview with Lucius, but Renkar stops her, explaining that he'd rather wait for Swift's arrival. A minstrel appears and takes a seat by the roaring hearth. She plays a lively string of instrumental songs on her lute, her battered cap upside-down before her. Patrons flip Greens and Stingers into the cap as the last light fades from the Cage's sky. Ramona leaves her a plate of food by her chair, her payment for playing the house.
Edwin frowns as he sips his tea. "Hrmm. Hrrmf ... Well now, I am not sure I am the right one to ask Swift. I do not know too many people of child-rearing age. I have few living relatives of friends, and most of them are my age." He blinks once, frowns, and sips his tea. "Perhaps you could persuade this Mr. Sage to relinquish his ward, if he seems burdened by her. Perhaps he would even welcome it. I am sure a young being like yourself must know someone who could adopt her in some fashion?" The small feline yawns and stretches in the corner, rising on her paws to head towards Edwin. The cat looks over at Swift and meows to her. Anyone with Feline: Spoiler: ::Don't listen to the old monkey. Scream, leap and take what you wish::
The familiar sound of soft slippers shuffling to the door greets Swift's ears. The door's spyhole opens, a rheumy eye staring out. Swift hears the click-clack of several bolts being withdrawn. The door swings open with a slight squeek. Edwin stands before Swift in his wizardly glory. A battered shapeless knit cap covers his bald head, its bright green color more of a muted gray after repeated washings. His furry white eyebrows, which always fascinated Swift whenever she was in cat form were raised in polite surprise. Edwin looks a bit older and more doddery than when Swift was his familiar Eclipse, his robe a bit more threadbarren and one yellow-horned big toe showing from out of his ancient slippers. He blinks once, then he smiles, a surprising amount of white regular teeth showing from within his thin lips. "Swift! What a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in, I was just gettting ready for a spot of tea." The wizard ushers Swift into his receiving parlor. A cast iron stove sits with a small coal fire inside its rusty interior. A well-used teapot chuckles on the top. Various oddments and wizardly miscellania line the walls and overflow several of the shelves. Near the stove, a small calico cat yawns and stretches, opening one yellow eye then closing it. Edwin puts Swift in the overstuffed vermillion leather seat near the stove and pours her some Shou-En-Lai tea. "My dear, I am happy to see you! What have you been up to?"
Emelia whispers as Blacky runs off "Goodbye Bunnykins! Come back soon!" The small black form of the cat darts along the narrrow alleys and byways of The Clerk's Ward, headed for Edwin Asfiritus' kip. The old wizard's lodgings are in the Guildhall Ward, off a side street of Copperman Way called Herbalists' Row. The area is home to several wizards and alchemists. Fronting the small street on Copperman Way is the alchemy shop of Wooly Cupgrass, an infamous character of Sigil. Wooly is known as the bariaur who will try any liquid, no matter how foul or unknown. Swift saw some of Wooly's more spectacular incidents with 'potion identification' while masquerading as 'Eclipse'. Swift/Blacky arrives at Herbalist's Row as the light of Afterpeak begins to mellow towards darkness . The darkening sky surrounding the grey arch of the otherside of Sigil is filled with flying creatures, many of them looking quite fiendish, heading along to their early appointments for the evening. Edwins' kip is small, with a plain red-brick exterior that has seen its share of scrubbing and repairing by the diligent Dabus. A small sign affixed to the door reads: Edwin Asfiritus, Magister specializing in Divination. Under this sign is a smaller hand-printed one: Please beware my familiar and don't allow her outside. Blacky approaches the door in cat form.
Zigel and Kratos stroll along the varied vendors and shops that line the streets leading from the Civic Festhall to Copper Court. The streets are alive with action, and for Kratos it is a puppy paradise, full of interesting smells and things to roll in. The Civic Festhall crowds of Sensates slowly fade out into the more merchant-oriented businesses of the Market Ward. Wandering merchants attempt to sell Zigel all manner of items: Flowers, charms, broadsheets of 'valuable darks of the Cage', and a dozen other geegaws. Zigel and Kratos eventually turn down Copper Court. The street is quiet, a few tenement dwellers fill jugs at the fountain, preparing for evening meals. The Copper Cauldron is looing lively, its door open halfway. Zigel is just in time to see Ffethpaar enter the Silver Rose, but not close enough to catch his attention. He hurries to the door and opens it just as a large crash startles him and Kratos both.
Oops," Karrin says. The destruction of the dummy brings Karrin out of the fugue state she had entered thinking about the strange interaction with the devil Veria. As she falls silent she hears someone moving in the entry hallway of the building.
Hoping he hasn't missed everybody, Ffethparr makes his way back to the Copper Cauldron wondering if there will be fish on the menu. Remembering the succulent spinebacks of his native home the thought occurs that there might be a trade opportunity for his tribe here. But no, they would not want to travel so far. Ffethpaar makes his way back towards Copper Court after chatting with his friend Bedlar a bit more. The hour is growing later, and the light is definitely dimming from the brightest level it held during Peak. Sigil's other side merges into a grey arch in the distance, a few early blooms of light appear on the far side of the Cage, looking to Ffethpaar like weak stars. The ubiquitous Cage Fog is reappearing as the light diminishes, making the broad avenue of Copperman Way indistinct. The crowd begins to be speckled with denizens of the Lower Planes; Tanarr'i, Baatorians, Yuguloths all hurrying on whatever fell errands they have at the beginning of their active cycle. Ffethpaar returns to the Silver Rose offices. He hears the sounds of someone smashing and crashing something in the excercise room. There is a sudden crash as something clatters to the ground.
Emelia doesn't stop scrubbing, but she occasionally lets her hand drop to gently stroke the dark cat's fur. She occasionally glances back to the tenement, but Mr. Sage does not reappear. Spoiler: You cast your experienced eye around the building. It is made of crumbling porous red sandstone, so it would be fairly easy to climb. There are large rents and cracks in the stone you can see. The razorvine is rank across the walls, the glossy black foliage creeping up two stories of the three story tenement. The small windows you can see all have rusting iron bars, but one has only half its normal amount. The sill looks broken away and the bars must have fallen out. This is on the second floor. The doorway Mr Sage emerged from seems to be warded by a stout oaken door with blackened iron fittings. It looks like the roof has a widow's walk on it, you can see an iron railing leaning slightly out from the rooftop. The courtyard wall itself is easy to mount, but only rises 10 feet, or to the top of the first floor. It too is covered in razorvine.
Bedlar smiles. "Course, course my friend. Business first. Reserve a day fer me an' I'll show yeh my best kept secret." Bedlar claps Fftehpaar on the back "We're gonna catch some real prize-winners ... you'll see!"
The angular Mr. Sage berates young Emelia for neglecting her duties, admonishes her that bad little girls end up being eaten by monsters, then disappears back into the shadowy recesses of the crumbling red-stone tenement. Emelia turns to her washboard and begins to scrub the grey laundry once again. Blacky/Bunnykins can see the sparkle of tears standing in her small eyes.
Ffethpaar makes his way to the Market Ward as the bright light of Peak starts to gently mellow. A beggar or two accost him, but he is stolid in his purpose, and the beggars don't push the issue. He sees another Lizardman, but he is a strange tribe, one with vermillion and purple scales and strange eyes that swivel almost independently of each other on small turrets of flesh. He greets the stranger in Draconic, but the stranger returns the greeting with a blank stare. Ffethpaar arrives at the crowded stalls of the Great Bazaar. The market is never truly quiet, but there is a certain lassitude at this hour that allows the shaman to wend his way to Bedlar's stall with a minimum of fuss. Bedlar Thork runs what the Cagers call a Stall-Combo. He has a wooden stall set up in front of his small kip, which tunnels into the pediment of a large warehouse. His front area is lined with shiny lures and exotic fishing poles of all descriptions. A bariaur is trying out a large surf-casting rod as FFethpaar approaches, then he puts it back and wanders on. When his prospective customer leaves, Bedlar notices his friend. The sturdy dwarf is dressed the part, in a battered lure-strewn hat with a floppy brim and a vest festooned with other lures and pouches. They chat a moment, and Ffethpaar asks his question. Bedlar scratches his head for a moment. "Well Ffeth, I would say yeh could try Alluvius Ruskin, she runs Tivvums Antiques, a shop that sells portal darks and keys right down the way. Yeh can just see it from here. It's that huge five-story-tall green marble cylinder tower down about four blocks. I'd be peery of her though. That cutter'd bob you and make yeh ask for a second whirl. Then there's Lissandra the Gate-Seeker. Chant on the street is she'll give yeh the dark on any portal she knows fer nought but a future favor. Peery coves know that can be the most expensive jink of all. Yeh can find her all around here, she don't keep kip publicly, but she's always around if'n yeh ask about." Bedlar looks around for a moment and whispers to Ffethpaar. "Speakin' of gates, did yeh give any thought to the fishin' trip I proposed?"
Karrin looks into her coin purse, frowns, then glances up at the devil, "I'm afraid I'm a little short at the moment, but I'm gainfully employed and a job should be coming through soon, I'll be back when I can pay the full price. Thank you for your time," Karrin says nodding towards the devil, "perhaps Sigil is the type of place were one's old alliances and prejudices can be forgotten, but I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to accept that yet. I'm sorry if you feel I'm insulting you, but I was told by someone I love to be wary of devils, and his advise is all that I have to remember him by . . . and for that reason alone I'm not willing to throw his advise away." Veria laughs when Karrin is through with her spiel, the rich dark sound pleasant, but slightly mocking in tone. "My dear, don't fear insulting me. I have thicker skin then that." Veria leans across the counter towards Karrin, her musky perfume with its subtle suphur undertone filling Karrin's nostrils again. Her golden wing bells gently chime as she fluffs her dark leathery wings out wide behind her. Her large dark eyes seem to swallow Karrin whole as she runs the tips of her forked tounge along her red lips. "Besides my pet, when I take offense, it will be all too obvious." The tension builds and there seems to be a dimming of the light for just a moment. Then Veria leans back and lowers her wings, becoming all smiles again. "Don't be embarrassed about being wary of devils, sweety. I am wary of devils and I AM one!" Her laughter rings out again, rich as cream, dark as sin.
Emelia snuggles the cat. "I've missed you Bunnykins. Mr Sage has been ever so cross lately, an' he's been keeping me locked up in the house, telling me that there are evil things looking to eat young children." Emelia looks around the small courtyard and whispers to the sable-furred cat "You are my only friend Bunnykins. I told Mr. Sage about you and how you needed a good home an' cream but he says we can't afford the jink to pay for a useless pet an' he wasn't going to waste his hard-earned jink on a furball." Emelia looks around furtively "If we didn't need fresh laundry I'd never get outside. I wish you could come live with me Bunnykins. I had a dream where you an' I lived in this big house an' there were these beautiful people with fluffy white wings an' they fed us peaches and' cream an' honey an' .." Emelia burbles on, her childish enthusiasm and natural gregariousness making her voice rise in volume until a stern voice issues from the shadowed rear doorway of the house. "Emelia! Stop wasting time and finish your chores! I've told you no cat! Get rid of that mangy stray!" Blacky/Bunnykins can see the tall angular form of Mr. Sage emerging from the shadows of the house. He is a pale dour-faced man with a skinny neck, prominent Adams Apple and straw-colored hair that lies rank under the old-fashioned black silver-buckled hat he always wears. He was dressed as usual in a shapeless black scholars robe, battered leather slippers peeking out from the hem. Emelia jumps guiltily, dropping Blacky/Bunnykins. She whispers urgently to the cat. "Go quick Bunnykins before he gets real mad!"
Veria's smile never falters, but Karrin senses a slight chill coming from her, like the finger of cold air that used to creep across the floor of the monastery when someone opened the door. "No worries my darling pet. Trust is a difficult thing to earn in the Cage. Yer using yer brainbox keeping yer peepers peeled for a bob." Karrin has a bit of difficulty following the Cant Veria spouts, but she decides the fiend is paying her a slight compliment. "We have a saying in my homeland: 'The proper price for the proper item.' Say what you will about us devils, but we always give you your due." Veria's smile widens a bit "I'd charge any berk off the boulevard 75 Ladies for the props . If you will allow me, I will give you the friendly discount to 45 Ladies. As long as you promise to drop by when you are in the neighborhood sometime." Veria looks over at the grinning form of Zigel and Kratos the sniffing pooch. "Zig dear, I do have some of that lilac incense here. It's 1 Lady per, just like last time. As for Kratos ..." Veria rummages behind the counter. "I think I have an old bone here." Veria appears with a largish soup bone with a few scraps of meat clinging to it. She tosses it to the large hound with a deft twist of her wrist.
Lucius refills Eir's sherry glass graciously "Absolutely my dear, anything you require to make the job go smoothly. I will ask that you do not mention either me or the Saltiere Society when conducting your investigations."
Lucius fills Hanali's glass as well "We have gotten our information on the Goblins from a former hireling of theirs, Grakk Pettigrue. He had worked as their face man when they first began offering their salt, but the Goblins cut him dead when they found him arrainging side deals. All he was ever able to find out is that the salt was stored in a warehouse near Crackskull Close in the Lower Ward and that it was from the Plane of Salt. After turning stag on them, he disappeared with the jink we payed him for his information." Lucius returns to his complaining chair and ponders a bit "Recently we have lost our contract with Osmonders' Meats in the Hive. They were never a great deal of our business, but they often bought secondary salt that was accidentally polluted in transport, so it was a win-win deal for both of us." Lucius ponders again "We also once did quite a lot of business with the Fernalian Meat Company. They have a place of business in the Great Bazaar, but their main warehouse is in the Lower Ward, where their gate is. They get their meats from some backwater planar world. Also we have gotten reduced orders from the Axebeak Poultry Company, also in the Great Bazaar. Their warehouse is in the Lower Ward as well. Here are their addresses." Lucius scribbles the three addresses on a piece of foolscap with a large gilded quill pen.
Lucius refills Eir's sherry glass graciously "Absolutely my dear, anything you require to make the job go smoothly. I will ask that you do not mention either me or the Saltiere Society when conducting your investigations."
Lucius fills Hanali's glass as well "We have gotten our information on the Goblins from a former hireling of theirs, Grakk Pettigrue. He had worked as their face man when they first began offering their salt, but the Goblins cut him dead when they found him arrainging side deals. All he was ever able to find out is that the salt was stored in a warehouse near Crackskull Close in the Lower Ward and that it was from the Plane of Salt. After turning stag on them, he disappeared with the jink we payed him for his information." Lucius returns to his complaining chair and ponders a bit "Recently we have lost our contract with Osmonders' Meats in the Hive. They were never a great deal of our business, but they often bought secondary salt that was accidentally polluted in transport, so it was a win-win deal for both of us." Lucius ponders again "We also once did quite a lot of business with the Fernalian Meat Company. They have a place of business in the Great Bazaar, but their main warehouse is in the Lower Ward, where their gate is. They get their meats from some backwater planar world. Also we have gotten reduced orders from the Axebeak Poultry Company, also in the Great Bazaar. Their warehouse is in the Lower Ward as well. Here are their addresses." Lucius scribbles the three addresses on a piece of foolscap with a large gilded quill pen.
Veria busies herself among various props and jars of makeup as Zigel and Karrin argue amongst themselves. She seems to be far away from the conversation, but Karrin gets the sense that this devil can hear everything they say quite well. After Karrin 'finds' her coin pouch, Veria motions her over to the counter. "Oh don't be silly my sweet. Just the pleasure of making your acquaintance has paid me for these pittances a hundred-fold." In front of the smiling fiend is a display of various creams, unguents, faux facial hair pieces and wigs. The versimilitude of some of the hairpieces is striking. Veria tries on a flaming-red wig and pouts seductively at Zigel. "I have all manner of disguise items here my friends. Please, take whatever you require, my treat." Veria smirks at her former beau and the wary Tiefling girl.
Emelia snuggles the cat. I've missed you Bunnykins. Mr Sage has been ever so cross lately, an' he's been keeping me locked up in the house, telling me that there are evil things looking to eat young children." Emelia looks around the small courtyard and whispers to the sable-furred cat "You are my only friend Bunnykins. I told Mr. Sage about you and how you needed a good home an' cream but he says we can't afford the jink to pay for a useless pet an' he wasn't going to waste his hard-earned jink on a furball." Emelia looks around furtively "If we didn't need fresh laundry I'd never get outside. I wish you could come live with me Bunnykins. I had a dream where you an' I lived in this big house an' there were these beautiful people with fluffy white wings an' they fed us peaches and' cream an' honey an' .." Emelia burbles on, her childish enthusiasm and natural gregariousness making her voice rise in volume until a stern voice issues from the shadowed rear doorway of the house. "Emelia! Stop wasting time and finish your chores! I've told you no cat! Get rid of that mangy stray!" Blacky/Bunnykins can see the tall angular form of Mr. Sage emerging from the shadows of the house. He is a pale dour-faced man with a skinny neck, prominent Adams Apple and straw-colored hair that lies rank under the old-fashioned black-buckled hat he always wears. He was dressed as usual in a shapeless black scholars robe, battered leather slippers peeking out from the hem. Emelia jumps guiltily, dropping Blacky/Bunnykins. She whispers urgently to the cat "Go quick Bunnykins before he gets real mad!"
Veria sweeps up to Karrin. The Erinyes subtly manages to get between Karrin and the door enough to block any easy exit. "Zigel, where did you find her? She is ab-so-lute-ly PRECIOUS!" Veria lays a hand with long red-laquered nails on Karrin's shoulder
"Zig is right my dear, I wont bite ... unless asked." Veria smirks at Karrin from close range, seemingly enjoying her discomfort. Karrin notices the smell of expensive perfume undershot with a faint note of sulphur. She looks Karrin up and down and notices her silver-capped horns. "What have you done with your horns dear? I love the look of silver, I just can't pull it off." Veria lays a finger along one of Karrin's silver horn caps. There's a small hissing sound and a smell of brimstone. Veria makes a small squeal of pain and pulls her smoking finger away and sticks it in her mouth with a pouty 'I've got a boo-boo' look. Deciding that she has had enough fun for the moment, Veria turns and flounces to the back of the store, wing bells chiming merrily. "Never fear about money, my new friend Karrin. What are friends for if they can't help one another?" Veria starts putting wooden boxes on a counter. "Now what exactly did you two cutters have in mind?"
Spoiler:
Karrin notices that Veria's eyes narrow as she looks towards her, then open in a microsecond of shock. As soon as Karrin notices it, Veria's face reverts to its original smirky mien. Veria addresses Karrin "Oh don't be silly Karrin, I always have time for old and new friends." Veria looks sly "I think we are going to be great friends you and I"
Karrin watches in amazement as Veria descends upon Zigel. She is a pale-skinned, dark haired beauty of a fiend with an expanse of dark leathery wings. She jingles as she stalks up to Zigel; her wings are pierced in several places and strung with gold chains, which hold a collection of small golden bells. Veria is dressed in a tight wasp-waisted bustier with a short pleated skirt and high spike-heel boots. A very businesslike rapier dangles from her belt as does a large whip. "It's been simply ages you handsome devil." Veria smirks at Zigel as he crushes her in a clinch. She gently extracts herself to look at Karrin. "And I see you've brought a new friend along to play!"
As the others wend upon their myriad adventures, Karrin and Zigel decide to take the trip to Veria's Delights to see what they can buy for a disguise kit. They emerge from the Silver Rose, Karrin casting a quick worried glance to the Copper Cauldron. Zigel leads the way with his confident stride, Karrin follows, keeping up with an athletic grace of movement. The two intrepid adventurers reach Copperman Way and see the Before Peak throng. A juggler whirls flaming torches above his head, trying to squeak a few coppers from the crowd. A group of bedraggled Xaositects slouch their way back towards the Hive with their multi-colored mohawks at half mast, their night of chaotic behavior evidently dampening their enthusiasm for wildness. Vehicles of every description vy for space on the broad avenue. Karrin and Zigel wisely stay to the raised sidewalk, despite the crush of pedestrians. The occasional splash of water from the road threatens their ankles, and the ripe smell of ordure rises from the gutters. Karrin and Zigel take their time and thread their way through the throng, which thins out as they exit Copperman Way south of the Great Bazaar. They head towards the Clerk's Ward, where the Civic Festhall is located, and with it, Veria's Delights. The duo pass many interesting shops as they wander on, and many cart stalls of wares as well. The two split some fried ham and cheese pockets they buy from a friendly and clean-looking vendor as they stroll. Karrin is amazed by the immense Severed Head Weapons and Armor shop they pass, the displays of lethal cutlery completely mesmerizing her. After a few hours of wandering, the two finally arrive at Veria's shop on the aptly named Hell Street. This street is definitely sinister in tone, with many shops advertising vices of a carnal and/or painful sort. The huge sprawling edifice of the Civic Festhall looms above the skyline, a steady stream of students, parvenus, sybarites and gawkers flocking to the Sensate's many diversions. Veria's Delights is a modestly-sized shop, sporting silken sheer lingere in its window. A stylized lipstick kiss embosses the door. Veria and Zigel enter. A bell jingles as they enter the shop. The walls are lined with accoutrements of many styles, focusing mostly on leather and lace. A collection of whips are displayed higher up on the walls, and several small cages are hung from the ceiling. A rich seductive contrallo voice issues from the back of the store. "Zig! Daaarling!"
Clarion looks up from his work. "Aye Ffethpaar, I have yer claws right here." Clarion walks over to a table strewn with various smithed pieces and pulls out the claws. They are done lovingly, with a true smith's craftsmanship. He hands them over to Ffethpaar, takes the proferred payment and then ponders the shaman's next request. "My Grandda was a whiz at drinking cups. Let me see what kind of designs I can scrounge up in his old journals and I will put something together. Can I get a look at yer bonebox?" Clarion reaches for his measuring string.
Heading out into Sigil the young tibbit finds herself a decent hiding place before assuming her catform and running off in the direction of the Hive. There are many dark corners in the recesses of Copper Court. Swift finds a truly quiet one and changes into her Blacky form. She uses her feline agility to run down many crooked alleyways along the back of stores and residences. Blacky's feline senses pick out many vermin as she darts towards the Hive. The scavengers of half-a-dozen planes hiss and gibber as she approaches, but none look willing to pick a fight in broad Peaklight. A cranium rat swarm stares out at her, the dozen pairs of eyes glittering up from a sewer grate below her paws. A random thought enters her head, making her feel like she stepped in something slimy ... "Arrgh .. cat ... cat ... nassty ." Something from the rats? Blacky shrugs it off with her usual feline aplomb. The Guildhall Ward fades into the clean-scrubbed neighborhoods of the Clerk's Ward. The streets are fairly empty here, and the alleyways are a lot fresher and less interesting than the Guildhall Ward. A patrol of red-armored Harmonium troopers sweep along the near-deserted street, staring hard at anyone loitering. As the day in Sigil reaches it's Peak brightness, Blacky arrives at Crookbrick Court, the neighborhood where Emelia and her strange ward the Sage keep kip. Crookbrick Court lies close to the Hive on the Clerk Ward side of the Sandstone District, and although not a part of it, the houses here are the least orderly and clean of any in the Clerk's Ward. Blacky spies the tenement that her friend dwells in and pads down to investigate. The red-stone building looks deserted. The fog has burned off for the most part, just leaving a dampness to the air. Blacky runs around the side alleyway and manages to find a way through the dense razorvine without much effort. The old building has a small rear courtyard, and there Blacky sees the frail form of Emelia, bent over a scrubbing tub and washboard. Laundry is strung on several lines around the courtyard. Blacky can see that Emelia looks wan and tired. She meows for attention and Emelia looks up, her care-worn face lighting up in a radiant smile. "Bunnykins!" Emelia drops her wash and runs to Blacky/Bunnykins, scooping her up and hugging her
Quint exclaims over the berries and cream. "A ... wonderful ... gift ... friend ... Greep ... thank ... you" Quint's bodies surround Greep and settle on the cushions after handing him a mug of mushroom ale. "Do ... not ... let ... others ... thoughts ... of ... you ... cause ... you ... to ... doubt ... yourself. You ... are ... a wonderful ... being ... and ... a ... good ... friend. Your ... courage ... and ... loyalty ... will ... shine ... forth ... no ... matter ... what ... your ... skin ... is." One of Quint's bodies walks over to a rickety table and picks up a silver flask. Quint hands it to Greep. "I ... wanted ... to ... give ... you ... this ... on ... the ... eve ... of ... your ... first ... employment. A ... friend ... made ... it ... for ... me. It ... is ... a... potion ... of ... healing."
"May ... you ... never ... have ... to ... use ...it." Quint's five faces break into smiles.
After procuring the last of the berries and a bottle of cream from the ever-accomidating Bess at the Copper Cauldron Greep sidled down the alley to the side of the inn which led maze-like into Thread Alley. Blocky walls of the backs of buildings and courtyards rear several stories high, causing the light, even as Peak approached, to be dim. Greep passes several errand boys, apprentices and couriers on his way to Quint's kip, all too busy to stop and pass the time. Many of the businesses have a back door to Thread Alley, and these doors carry the slate pieces merchants use for messages to others crossing the narrow shortcut. Greep isn't certain, but one board at a green grocer's seems to hold meaning for him. Among the advertised specials Greep notices writing in a slightly different style ... special on HalflIng GREEn Peas, 1 lb/1s2c ... Greep waves to the air, vaguely unsettled, but feeling as if the Thread Alley Wyrm (or TAW as Greep thinks of him) is a good spirit if he actually exists. Greep threads his was along the twisting narrrow causeway, eventually coming to the rickety stairs of Quint's kip. Dislodging a surly two-foot-long purple lizard from the stairs, Greep ascends the creaking structure. Greep had been worried Quint might be out scouting storefronts, but he remembered while walking here that Quint had mentioned before that his/their eyes were sensitive to bright Peak light, so he/they usually took the six brightest hours of the day as his/their main resting period. Arriving at his destination, Greep knocks on the door. An odd echoey voice booms out. "Who ... is ... it?" Greep recognizes Quint's odd voice. He greeps as an answer. The door opens inward after the unshackling of several bolts. A cheerful blue face greets him, its large bat-like ears perked high and a smile on its toothy face. "Come in friend Greep, come in!" Greep enters Quint's kip. He/they keep an odd kip, the dilapitated rooms are decked in pillows and low furniture. Multicolored threadbare sheets are tacked along the walls to mask the stains and ill-repair of the plastering. One of Quint's bodies leads you to a soft cushion chair as another fills mugs from a small oaken keg branded with a stylized mushroom. The other three bodies seem to be busy with cleaning up what looks like some breakfast dishes. "My ... good ... friend ... Greep ... how ... are ... you?" Quint has an odd way of talking. When the five bodies were in the same room they seemed to share the work, bits of conversation flowing from any of his/their mouths.
Bess looks up from her griddlecake making "Go right ahead Mr. Greep and take it out, bottom oven."
As everyone settles into their seats and tucks into their breakfast, a young lady approaches the table. She is dressed in relatively severe clothing, leaving very little revealed, but the cut of the clothes and their quality speaks of haute couture. She is blonde and fair, with the ethereal quality that most Cagers call 'Angel Blooded' . Her violet eyes and elongated ears bespeak an admixture of Elven ancestry besides. As she approaches, you all notice she has some sort of stole around her neck. Then the stole stirs and you see it is a strange creature lying across her slim shoulders. It seems to be some sort of 3' long lizard with iridescent rainbow-colored scales. It blinks and looks at the party, unfurling an impressive pair of bright orange wings marked with black pipings. It launches itself off the young woman's shoulders and hovers close to Renkar. "Renkar-Renkar-Renkar" The diminutive flying lizard hums in a squeaky voice. "Mercutio hungry. Feed Mercutio? Apple pie?" The young woman takes a seat at Renkar's side
Renkar gives everyone a nod as they seat themselves at the table. Ramona bustles around, dishing out plates of the various orders. The air fills with the smoke from the several pipeweed products our heroes enjoy.
It's raining in Sigil. It does that a lot. The chill rain washes the smoke from a million hearths out of the sky as it comes down, taking on the appearance of weak tea. The hours straddling the fine line of Peak and Anti-Peak are a time of change for Cagers. Workers from the Night Market are trudging home bedraggled: The whores, minstrels, ale-sellers and knights of the post looking for their kip after a long night's work. The bakers, stall merchants, wholesalers and apprentices are emerging into the wet darkness, pulling their cloaks around them as they contemplate the beginning of another day in the Cage. Down the small street of Copper Court, the facades of old buildings drip with brown water, the water stains blending with centuries of previous brown washes, streaking the granite and marble blocks and further rusting the metal spikes that festoon so many of their roofpeaks. A trio of Dabus work their way slowly down the street, the air above their heads dancing with rapidly-flickering brightly-colored images that stand out like bright lanterns in the grey gloom. They clear razorvine gently from the buildings, cutting the glossy black foliage back and bundling the cut twigs into small twisted logs. A group of ragged children follow behind them, waiting for a bundle to be handed to them by the silent Dabus and streaking off to whatever kip their family dwell in. Although most of the offices are still shuttered against the Anti-Peak darkness, one door stands slightly ajar, with a spill of golden light and a hum of activity within. Above the door, a faded wooden sign shows a large cauldron being stirred by a stereotypical rendition of a tavern wench. The writing above and below proclaims the establishment as the Copper Cauldron Inn. Inside the inn's common room, the smell of baking griddlecakes and bacon fills the air. The hearth is large, with several side ovens baking the inns' daily bread. Robyn, Bess the proprieter's youngest son, turns the spit on a large flitch of bacon at the fire. A huge cauldron (made of copper of course) sits on a large iron hook, a non-descript brown stew gently bubbling away. A varied group of customers gather in the roomy common area. Several skinny soot-smudged young children cluster around a skinny soot-smudged man, hastily gulping down bowls of the inn's cheap brown stew. A minstrel plucks lazy chords from his lute as he awaits his breakfast. Two well-dressed merchants hold a whispered conversation at a back table, their bodyguards eyeing each other sourly and subtly flexing their muscles. Merchants, laborers and touts fill the humid air with the warm buzz of conversation. Bess Allgood, the mistress of the house, directs the bustle and flow of the morning feed with the competence of a field marshall. Her eldest daughter Ramona weaves between the tables, bringing food and drink to the customers with the ease of long practice. Bess' boys Ferdinand, Darroth and Robyn all perform various cleaning and cooking chores about the common room. Miranda, her youngest, sits next to Bess, helping her portion out the food as she cooks griddlecakes over a brazier set behind the common room's bar. One large table in the back stands empty, except for one man smoking a long pipe. He looks as if he is expecting someone to arrive any moment.
The city of Sigil is known by many names: The Cage, the City of a Million Doors, the Hub of the Multiverse, the City of a Million Stenches. It is an impossibility wrapped in an enigma. A ring that floats above a spire that has no end. A city where portals flash into existence everywhere, yet the Powers are blocked out. A city where Solar and Pit fiend can rub shoulders without bloodshed. A city the Silver Rose Company calls home. The Company of the Silver Rose is a mercenary company that dwells along a narrow street where the Great Bazaar fades into the remnants of the Guildhall Ward. Copper Court was once the pride of the Coppersmith's Guild when guilds ran Sigil's government. Now the coppersmiths have scattered and an old workshop houses the Silver Rose's business offices. The Silver Rose is the child of Renkar Sha'Hagmid, an older gentleman who made his fortune adventuring decades ago. He recently left the employ of Spiral Hal'Oight, a merchant prince in the Planar Trading Consortium. Why is anyone's guess, but they seem to maintain cordial relations. Renkar set up shop on Copper Court, and is putting together a force of mercenaries willing to take the smaller jobs the merchants and people of Sigil need taking care of. Employees of the Silver Rose Company enjoy free room and board at the Copper Cauldron, a nearby inn run by Bess Allgood and her family. Lodging and food is considered part of the benefit package. The neighborhood can be kindly described as 'shabby genteel'. The Guildhall Ward has decayed, and some don't even consider it a true ward anymore. Many ethnic groups have taken over the neighborhoods, making racial pockets throught the area: Humanoids tend to drift towards the Hive side, Demi-humans to the Clerk's Ward. The Guildhall Ward is slowly morphing into the Market Ward, where all manner of shops and booths selling anything in the multiverse can be found. The main focus is around the Great Baaar, but the shops are slowly filling in the derelict guild buildings as well.
This is the actual game thread. As soon as we are up and running, this is the posting board for the game. :)
This will be our discussion thread for the proposed Chronicles of the Silver Rose thread. I am your host, the Spinner of Secrets. Here we can discuss character creation, out of game issues, annoying puns and various other things. As soon as I can, I will be posting background on the game here. |
