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Game: All that We See or Seem

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Eluvan's picture
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Game: All that We See or Seem

Alright, let's get this moving then shall we?

Speech goes in "quotation marks".

Thoughts go in italics.

Writing should be in the present tense. Due to the nature of PbP gaming XP will be awarded not just for combat or problem solving but for good roleplaying and writing, so effort will be rewarded. Lame 'My character follows them' posts will be penalised.

OOC comments should be in ((double brackets)).

There are no spoiler tags on this forum as far as I'm aware (though if someone can tell me otherwise that's great) - therefore information it is vital for only one or two characters to know will be sent via PM. To a certain extent, though, I have to just trust you not to metagame.

I trust you to roll your own dice. Please be honest, it makes the game more fun for everyone. Dice rolls should look like ((Action 1d20+x [y] =z)), where x=your modifier, y=your dice roll and z=your total. For instance a character with a spot modifier of +9 who rolled a 12 should write ((Spot 1d20+9 [12] =21)).

And that's the annoying crunchy bits done, I think. Note that due to the way the backgrounds have been written everybody except Olorin is together at the start. I encourage everybody to write a fairly lengthy opening post giving their character's immediate thoughts on the position they find themselves in and so on. A brief description of their day up to that point, for instance, would not go amiss. I'm giving the main group a little bit of time to talk amongst yourselves before I introduce any other factors.

***

Ask a few sages about the nature of reality, you're likely to get a lot of different answers. Most of them will be contradictory, most of them will be meaningless. The fact is, there's probably no one right answer. It all depends how you look at it. So after a while you get sick of being lectured by dogmatic old men who don't know any more about it than any fool on the street, and maybe you go ask a few of them instead. Eventually, you'll come across one of a poetic bent, and they might just tell you that the best metaphor is a great tapestry. Threads are being woven everywhere you look. Every fiend scheming and plotting is weaving threads to the pattern. Every drunkard stumbling down a street in the hive and getting robbed is weaving threads to the pattern. Every noble and righteous knight questing for truth and purity is weaving threads to the pattern.

If you take that point of view and run with it for a bit, you come to the conclusion eventually that there's nothing anyone can do to avoid weaving threads. By living you affect your reality, and you make your impression on that great tapestry. But, of course, most of the time people don't get all that much choice in just what threads they're going to affect. The tapestry is more subtle than mortal thought can comprehend - probably immortal thought too, for that matter - and just how we are woven into it is something we don't often get a very real say in.

It's hard to say when any of these threads might begin or end. Trying to trace the cause and effect that leads to pretty much anything back as far as it goes is something that's going to make anybody's head hurt after a while. But, of course, that probably doesn't matter. Because for any practical purposes, like most such hifalutin ideas, that's pretty much all screed. For our purposes, we can say with certainty that something is about to begin as a group of four mismatched bloods sit around a table in the Sword and Buckler, one of the more respectable establishments of the Lower Ward (as if that's really saying a whole lot). The place is packed with customers of all descriptions, from a water genasi wizardess whos its quietly in a corner nursing a glass of something amber-coloured through to the group of two Wemics who stand towards the centre, looking uneasily around and looking bewildered as they are assailed on all sides by opportunists offering to show them around or cut them a deal.

Lykos, Jim, Alhesander and Adian are left in peace, however. The Sword and Buckler is well known as a good place to hire yourself a mercenary, its previous clientele of those looking for muscle in the kriegstanz now replaced mainly by representatives of groups such as the Planar Trade Consortium who often have need of hired help. The four blend in well, looking for all the world like a band of mercenaries seeking employment, and so people steer clear.

Not so far away, on one of the larger streets of the Ward, Olorin wanders seeking some guidance from his Goddess. His attention is caught by an unassuming human who is standing on a wooden box by the side of the street, making some kind of speech. Most people who stop to listen hurriedly move on again, but a few have stopped to listen. As you draw close you catch the words "and that is the dark of the matter, friends! That is the final proof of Mal-Na-Mo-Wo's right to divinity, and his purity! He does not want to ascend. He wishes to live as one of us. But he cannot, for godhood is his destiny! And so he shall prove worthy of it; for it is said that those who wish to rule are not fit to do so..."

Mephit James's picture
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The Cage is unbearable. Lykos wonders for the fourth day in a row why he bothered coming to this place. It is so full of poisonous fumes that he'd taken to wearing a handkerchief over his mouth for at least some filtering. Siul is feeling the effects too, they both miss the clean air of the Beastlands. Still, if one was looking for work, Sigil is the best networking place around.
Lykos eyes the wemics standing in the bar warily between sips of water. He had met many wemics in teh Beastland and the Outlands and they were always itching for fights. These two were obviously newcomers to Sigil and could easily be pushed into a fight. At this point, Lykos would have welcomed one, he's sodding tired of sitting around in this fiend-ridden burg without a hint of adventure.
Absently he reaches down to run a comforting hand through Siul's golden fur. She presses back against it as if to comfort him back, and then sinks back to the floor to stare at the door. Across the table, Adian seems to be far more comfortable, though perhaps just as bored.
Lykos doesn't know what he considers the tiefling, certainly more than an aquaintance, but he feels uncomfortable calling a half-fiend friend. Still they got along and Adian seemed to try to work against his tainted half, an endeavor which Lykos always tried to help with.
Whatever his feelings with his dark companion were, the ranger has no idea what to make of the others sitting at the large table. The common room of the inn was crowded, so it was no surprise that they he and Adian had had to split the table. Still, Lykos senses something odd about the strangers across the way. Certainly the tall one is an aasimar and Lykos afforded him respect for that, but if it weren't for the colorful hue to his hair or the regal glow of the Upper Planes about the warrior, Lykos might have second-guessed the man's heritage. His features had a definite... serpentine look to them.
The aasimar's companion is obviously a human, but his manner is peculiar. His clothing is unassuming, but he seemed to be laboring under some heavy burden.
Lykos eventually stops staring, and lifted his handkerchief for a quick drink of water. "Hurry up with breakfast, Adian, we've got an employer to find today," he says while looking at the surrounding building as if it were an enemy. "I hope to be out of this sodding smoke pit by the evening." He fills his cupped hand with water and holds it down for Siul to lap while he gives the other patrons another apprehensive glance.

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((I'm assuming a few things about how well Jim and Alhesander know each other by posting this, so if I'm off base with any of this let me know and i'll change it))

Seated among the "mercenaries" an aasimar of exotic descent quietly takes in the clutter and commotion of the Sword and Buckler. His angular face, and the few prisim hued lines that trace unknown patterns across his skin betray the figures nature as a serpent kin, perhaps naga or even stranger heritage. It is Alhesanders expression of calm determination however that betrays his calling as a knight, and a trained eye would notice the aasimar's careful and carefully concealed inspection of the other tavern-goer's.
Alhesander is outfitted in well made leather scale, just barely visible along the fringes of the leather is a loose fitting dark teal undershirt and trousers. A dagger is concealed at his side, not hidden, but kept enough out of sight to keep himself looking nonthreatening.
Seemingly in spite of the palains caution the day had remained uneventful. His pouring over of the empyrical texts had yeileded no more darks into his reasearch, and what few connections he still had in Sigil were beginning to run dry, it seemed as if the knight was following a Grail Trail. Alhesander nurses an uncharacteristically sour mood over his glass of warm milk, prudence had demanded him not to order anything capable of intoxicating him. It seemed very likely that Alhesanders only chance of making a name for the Brotherhood would have to lie in his deeds, hopefully plublicity would draw his siblings attention to him.

Which of course makes this a circular arguement, Jims abilities and latent spark were the fastest way to get the Brotherhood in a position to spread their views.

After a meeting with a representative of the Sons of Mercy Alhesander had finally secured short term allies to Jims cause, though the Martyr's weren't exactly respected by the citicezns of the Cage they would at least know which assassin, group, or cross-trader had been responsible for Jims immenint demise.

"Look Jim, I appreciate what you're trying to do for your...followers, but there is a reason influential individuals in City don't go carousing through the streets, especially when so vulnerable. I can't command an action, but surely you realize the longer you allow your follower base to build the harder it's going to be protect you."

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Game: All that We See or Seem

Adian sets down two plates on the table and one bowl on the floor in front of Siul. He even criticizes my cooking. I probably would, too. Maybe once we get an actual job we'll have something better to eat.

The young man is human enough on a first glance, though his slightly serrated-looking ears, red irises, and pointed teeth clearly mark him as something more or less than normal. These features alone are enough to mark him as a fearsome individual, even though he is unarmed in his well-worn traveler's clothing and black jacket.

Even though the aasimar's superior attitude often grated on the cynical soulknife, Adian considered Lykos to be the closest thing he had to a friend. They had been doing mercenary work together for a while, but needed a job to pay the bills. Anything would do. Anything that would pass the ranger's moral standards, of course.

Primus, the One and Prime's picture
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((Oh yeah, Eluvan, I had a question. Could I change my Necklace of Fireballs and make it a Necklace of Lightning Balls to fit the character.))

Jim looks at Alhesander and looks as if he is going to speak but closes his mouth, lowers his head and lets out a sigh.

Jim considers pointing out that dismissing his followers because they make him less safe would be akin to telling a famous actor to stop acting so that people wouldn’t threaten him because of his acting. Almost. But that comes dangerously close to admitting that he deserves all of this attention, all of this reverence. The prime (who is still having trouble coming to grips with this – magic is real, multiple planes exist, so do monsters and demons and all manner of things) is no where near ready to proclaim himself a deity in human form. Jim chuckles sadly and exhaustedly to himself as he thinks about that concept and takes a swig of his ale.

The deity-to-be looks at Alhesander and shrugs. Jim doesn’t fully trust the paladin. He seems nice enough and is helping him to adapt to life in this ‘Sigil’, but there is the sneaking suspicion that the paladin wants something of Jim; wants to use him to achieve his own agenda.

Jim is wearing plain clothing in lieu of his fine robes. Both Alhesander and Al-Rickan had agreed that his stately robes and mystical armor (given to him by Oroloey – high shaman of the growing Cult of He-Who-Falls-From-Storms-And-Strikes-Down-Evildoers) were a bit of a liability in public spaces. Still he wears the mystical necklace (also an offering from the shaman). His short-cropped brown hair sticks up in strangely spiked directions despite all attempts to tame it, and his eyes, set in his beautiful youthful face, seem to gleam with a penetrating blue gaze.

Mal-Na-Mo-Wo glances across the table as he puts down the ale tankard. The two strangers sit there, having their own conversation. Jim considers the tiefer and his companion. These strange human-like beings of Sigil were quite strange and surreal to Jim’s eyes, though the wemics stole most of his attention.

“I understand your concerns, Alhesander, I will attempt to get them to slow down their proselytizing,” Jim says, glancing into the ale mug. The foam begins shifting, a lightning bolt-like shape forms in the foam, twists into the shape of what appears to Jim to be a wolf, and then vanishes into random foam spots. Jim shakes his head to clear the image then pushes his mug away. I don’t need my ale telling me what I’m supposed to do, dammit.

Enzo Sarlas's picture
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Game: All that We See or Seem

The elf awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. Gory glimpses of flesh being flayed from bones still flitted across his vision. The dream troubled him more frequently of late, but it had not developed with greater detail or clarity. It was a powerful omen, and most assuredly not good. Nevertheless, it was a sign to be read and heeded - he trusted that much in his gift. This dream had not included the reluctant god, but he was sure the two visions were related somehow.

Olorin rose from his sleeping mat, and poured water from a pitcher into his washing bowl. Returning to his mat, he began his morning cleaning ritual. The chill water washed sleep from eyes, awakened skin. The exercise helped to clear his mind of the violent visions and attune his senses to the strange dual reality that all Ránar experience. His senses sharpened, shifted. Droplets on his mat clearly indicated that today would be fruitful, but the ear must lead the way.

He dressed in his blue robes, ate a quick breakfast, took his sword and quiver and set out from the house with no direction in mind.

He wandered instead from sound to sound, picking up stray conversations, a mother singing to her child, cursing, or an unhealthy cough. He followed only pleasant sounds, and veered away from unpleasant ones. It was not always so, but today the Path was wide and smooth. His ears led him as sure as a tout to a corner commonly occupied by prophets, priests and madmen, led him to an impassioned voice heralding the rise of someone called Mal-Na-Mo-Wo, a man for whom divinity was destined.

Offering silent praise to Sehanine and to his mentor, Olorin steps forward, working his way through a thin but curious crowd to stand directly before the would-be prophet.

There he stands, listening to every word the man says, but also listening to the man's inflections, his passion, his nervous excitement. He listens with his entire being, taking it all in for later meditation. He listens to the voices in the crowd as well, to their curiosity, their scepticism. Olorin quietly remains in front of the prophet until the man chooses to address him directly or until the man finishes his sermon.

[just for kicks - I'm not expecting this to mean anything - I rolled a Listen check using the forum's dice roller (d20+10 Listen modifier) and got 16+10=26]

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((Yep, a necklace of lightning balls would be fine.))

Olorin doesn't find it hard to pick up the general mood of the crowd. Most of those who overhear the preacher quickly move on by, worried perhaps of the Lady's reaction to a man predicting the rise of a power within Sigil. The few who stop to listen are mainly scholars and the like, obviously interested in the possibilities of the man's speech though rather dubious.

He continues, noticing that he seems to have drawn a slightly more appreciative audience member and so locking eyes with Olorin as he goes on "even now our Lord awaits you. Truth and purpose await you all in the Sword and Buckler tavern. Yes, even in the dank surroundings of that hovel Mal-Na-Mo-Wo's light cannot be hidden. Patiently he awaits you there. And he-" he is violently cut off at this point as a brawny man in tarnished plate mail steps up past Olorin and punches him in the gut. Four others follow him, all in plate mail. Their precise appearances or races cannot be determined due to the helmets they wear. Emblazoned on the right breast of each one's breast plate is a symbol, which Olorin recognises as signifying the Minder's Guild. Without bothering to explain themselves they begin to haul the speaker off as he gasps for breath, still winded from the first blow. The rest of the small crowd who had been listening suddenly become intensely interested in other things and drift off their seperate ways.

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"HOLD!" Olorin's voice rings out clear, his elven accent heavy.

Their attention caught, the elf addresses the Minders more quietly.

"What crime has this man committed? If there is a fine involved, please allow me to pay it here and now and we can all go our separate Paths."

[If required for this attempt at bribing/diplomacy, Diplomacy check (d20+7 Diplomacy modifier) = zoinks! 19+7 = 26!]

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Seeing Adian's reaction to his words, Lykos relents. "Sorry, Red," he says, purposely using his traveling name for the tiefer. "It's just this blasted City, it's got me on edge. This stuff's real tasty, though, and it's making me feel better." He casts another quick glance to their table companions. "Let's get going, though, eh?" Quickly finishing his food, then readjusting his handkercheif, Lykos starts to gather up his things for another day of wander Sigil, City of Grey.

((Listen check to see if he hears the altercation outside: 1d20+9 [12] = 21))

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((The commotion is a few streets away. You won't be able to hear it.))

The Minders stop, uncertain. They are obviously not used to being challenged, but the elf's commanding tone has them off balance. They halt, but make no move to release their charge. The one among them who seems to be the leader, the one who delivered the punch, speaks: "Nothing to do with a fine. This is private business. What'd'ya think we are, the Sons of Mercy? Nah. Cutter paid us to bring this sod in, so that's what we're doin'. Wha's it got to do with you, anyway?" Despite his strong words, his tone is tinged with uncertainty and he seems to be measuring Olorin anxiously as he speaks.

"Ya gotta understand, this isn't just about money. We start failin' to complete jobs, who's gonna want ta hire us?"

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Alhesander quietly grates his teeth together. Striking the delicate balance between pushing the pseudo-deity into Ascension and the unfortunate possibility of getting him killed was going to be difficult indeed.

"We needn't halt your progression, unless that is what you want of course. But I had something less detrimental to your followers in mind. I've already met with a member of the Sons of Mercy, he seemed convinced that his group will be sympathetic to your cause. Given the amount of enemies you've accumulated simply by being yourself, perhaps it would be wise to secure a safehouse or similar area desinged to limit access, or at least one whose environment you could capably control."

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"Eluvan" wrote:
"Nothing to do with a fine. This is private business. What'd'ya think we are, the Sons of Mercy? Nah. Cutter paid us to bring this sod in, so that's what we're doin'. Wha's it got to do with you, anyway?" Despite his strong words, his tone is tinged with uncertainty and he seems to be measuring Olorin anxiously as he speaks.

"Ya gotta understand, this isn't just about money. We start failin' to complete jobs, who's gonna want ta hire us?"

"You want your reputation to preceed you, but take care, friend. What preceeds you, leads you. Where that Path leads, I see plainly. I see copper coins in a bloodied fist over a bitter and hardened heart.

But that's not the only Path I see at your feet, friend. I see another, path, this one prouder and more prosperous. But it leads off sharply from where you now tread."

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Astonishingly, the Sodkillers actually seem swayed by Olorin's words. They look anxiously to thier leader, hoping that he will know what do with this strange new perspective with which they are being presented. He seems as indecisive as they, however, and thinks for some time before answering. "Maybe.... maybe you're right, cutter. Ye're seemin' to make sense, anyway. So... what do you think we should do? You say you see these paths? Which one do we take?"

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WIth a nod to the strangers sharing the table, Lykos heads out of the Sword and Buckler with Siul and Adian following. He had a mind to try the Minders Guild, which sometimes had extra jobs though they were less than savory. The ranger had until now refused even to visit the place because of the unlikely chance they'd have any respectable opportunities. As he pushes the door open and steps out into the bustling street he gives a final look at the pair sitting at the table. There is some air about them of importance, though to any discerning glance they are innocuous at most. Fighting back a cough from the fresh scent of oil smoke, Lykos shrugs. Sigil is full of strange Cutters and a body could work himself to death trying to figure out a hundredth of their darks.

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*bump*

Enzo Sarlas's picture
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busy weekend... I'll try to post tonite.

Enzo Sarlas's picture
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"Eluvan" wrote:
Astonishingly, the Sodkillers actually seem swayed by Olorin's words. They look anxiously to their leader, hoping that he will know what do with this strange new perspective with which they are being presented. He seems as indecisive as they, however, and thinks for some time before answering. "Maybe.... maybe you're right, cutter. Ye're seemin' to make sense, anyway. So... what do you think we should do? You say you see these paths? Which one do we take?"

Olorin smiles warmly, and shrugs his shoulders. "Your Path is yours to walk, friend. I cannot choose for you. But I suspect you already see your present path. Are you satisfied with where it leads? Are you pleased that wherever you go, you are scorned or avoided? Are you satisfied with employers who cheat you, speak ill of you and call upon you to do their dirty work, while others get the good jobs, the good pay and the respect of their neighbors?"

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*Bump*

OOC: Lykos is still waiting for at least a nod from the DM. It seems like all the action is around Olorin right now, Eluvan, is there anything the others can do to spur this along?

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I second that bump. Adian and Lykos are just leaving their tavern, but they have apparently no way of finding out what's going on with Olorin & Company.

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*hahuhhum, bump thirded*

Enzo Sarlas's picture
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I was gonna say sumthin' but I can't remember what it was... sounded like slump, or hump... I'm sure it'll come to me...

Enzo Sarlas's picture
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rhymes with "hump"

Ah, I remember now... "BUMP!"

Mephit James's picture
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it may be time for us to send some search parties to find Eluvan.

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((Sorry about that guys. The Christmas/New Year period was hectic, and it whipped me up in its whirlwind-like grasp before I had time to post here to let you guys know I'd be out of action for a bit. Things are back to normal now though.

As for your question Rhys... you're right that things are currently centred on Olorin. That's because he's currently the only player not grouped with the rest of you. It should be obvious, though, that events are conspiring to bring him to you guys, and that he'll be carrying a plot hook with him. I thought it would be okay to leave you guys to chat in the inn for a bit before he turned up, but you got restive earlier than I was expecting. That's okay, I'm not going to try to restrict your actions. But that's the explanation of my thinking, anyway.))

The leader of the Sodkiller seems to be thinking long and hard, and his followers are clearly waiting to see what course he will take. After a few moments the scales seem almost visibly to tip inside the man's head, and he nods. "Aye, ye might just have a point. Alright. I'm gonna think about what ye've said. For now... pike it. We'll leave this sod with you. But ye wanna be careful. He's got hisself some powerful enemies I reckon."

It's at this point that Lykos, Siul, and Adian round the street corner. They take in the situation swiftly - some kind of altercation between a group of bashers displaying Sodkiller insignia and a blood with an Elven look about him. Caught between them is an unassuming young man looking like he's trying very hard to rise above the situation in which he finds himself and not quite succeeding. Each of the three recognises him, though it takes them a few moments to place him as one of the disparate group of Jim's disciples.

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Sensing the mood in the crowd and from the elf, Lykos approaches cautiously. "Good morning to you, sir," he says through the bandanna around his mouth, "I just saw your leader inside." The ranger gives the elf an appraising glance: he doesn't seem threatening, but something about his attitude and build make him look challenging. Still facing the elf he adds, "I trust you are not being detained by this sylvan traveler?"

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Adian is amazed that someone would be so foolish as to start trouble with Sodkillers. Everyone ought to know better. And that barmy Jim ought to keep better track of his friends. He stands beside Lykos, not quite ready to speak up, but prepared to defend his friend.

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"Eluvan" wrote:
The leader of the Sodkiller seems to be thinking long and hard, and his followers are clearly waiting to see what course he will take. After a few moments the scales seem almost visibly to tip inside the man's head, and he nods. "Aye, ye might just have a point. Alright. I'm gonna think about what ye've said. For now... pike it. We'll leave this sod with you. But ye wanna be careful. He's got hisself some powerful enemies I reckon."
Olorin offers his hand to the Sodkiller's leader. "Thank you, friend. May Sehanine guide you." After shaking the leader's hand, Olorin turns to those approaching.

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Who put the bump in the bump she-bump she-bump?
Who put the "respond" in the "to this thread"?
Who was that man? I'd like to shake his hand...

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The Sodkillers' leader mumbles something that might be a greeting or farewell to the newcomers and then turns and shuffles a few paces before remembering that he is supposed to be an officer to the men accompanying him, and taking up a more authoratative stride. The others follow him, confusion the prevailing emotion amongst the group.

Jim's follower, whose name neither Lykos nor Adian can quite remember, seems shaken, his general demeanour that of a man who has just been saved by an act of God as he stumbles back a few paces and leans against the wall for a few seconds in stunned silence before remembering himself and rushing forward to Olorin, shaking his hand frantically and gushing forth thankyous and promises of repayment.

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Blinking at the sudden rush forward by Jim's follower, Lykos shrugs. "Looks like the prophet is fine after all," he says to Adian. Turning to the follower he adds, "Best head back to your master, priest, the Cage is no place for a Clueless to run about in."

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"Eluvan" wrote:
...he stumbles back a few paces and leans against the wall for a few seconds in stunned silence before remembering himself and rushing forward to Olorin, shaking his hand frantically and gushing forth thankyous and promises of repayment.

"I want two things from you in payment, nothing less and nothing more. Heed me well. First. When you speak publicly again, as I know you will, I want you to tell others of the guard who chose the nobler Path. You will praise him for it and encourage others to do the same. Second. I desire to meet your Lord Mal-Na-Mo-Wo in person. Is he among your friends here?"

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The disciple looks hastily around and takes in Lykos and Adian. Before speaking to Olorin. Whilst not quite ignoring them, he does certainly seem to be giving Olorin precedence. "No, he is not here. These are... associates of his. Non-believers, I think, but not unfriendly to the cause. He is not far. I shall lead you to him if that is what you wish." He motions up the street, back the way Lykos and Adian came, waiting for some confirmation before setting off himself.

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OOC: So, I guess we're following him?

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Lykos pauses for a minute to address the elf: "What business do you have with the god-leader, berk?" He knows that elves are generally nice cutters, but they're not celestials and one can never be too careful. Adian seems unsure behind him, reminding the ranger that they are looking for a paying job, not another charity mission. "He's a busy prime," Lykos adds to deter any violent thoughts, "and between himself and the aasimar he hangs 'round with, he's more 'an capable of protecting his followers."

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"Rudeness. That's a good start." Olorin's voice drips sarcasm.

The elf addresses Lykos directly. "I don't think I like your tone, friend. If your god-leader is capable of protecting his followers without my assistance, then I suppose I needn't have dissuaded the Sodkillers from arresting your prophet. Odd, though. I got the impression they really weren't interested in your prophet at all, at least not directly. I'd say they're probably trying to find this Mal-Na-Mo-Wo of yours. I wonder why that might be? Is your capable god-leader hiding?"

"I suppose their odds of finding your god-leader would be much improved with the arrest of not just one, but four of his followers... perhaps I should call them back? There might even be a reward in it for me."

"Now. Are you prepared to address me politely?"

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Lykos bristles at the sudden hostility. Siul growls at his side, looking up at the elf with sharp golden eyes. "Let's get something straight here, berk," the ranger says with a decidedly colder demeanor, "I'm not a lackey of this Ma-La-Whatsit. I've seen him around the common room at the tavern we're both holding kip at but that's it. I don't know your intentions, but I don't want a fight. I'm glad you saved this little prime's life, and I hope you're looking to meet his leader for peaceful reasons. This city's full of too many barmies and fiends to afford naivete even concerning a nice little elf like yourself." If anything, Lykos becomes more suspicious of the elf's intentions. He seems to want to bluster his way through any opposition to a meeting with... Jim and the ranger senses there's more afoot here than simple curiosity.

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"Since you are not an associate of Mal-Na-Mo-Wo, then my intentions are none of your concern."

Olorin turns abruptly away from Lykos, to face the 'prophet'. "Please take me to this would-be-God of yours. I am very interested in meeting him."

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Adian's sullen demeanor continues. What a sodding little piker! "Hey, Lykos, let's keep going. This berk's far too blooded for us," he says quietly, sarcasm soothing his temper. "Someone has to have posted a job. Let's check the regulars." He'll head off toward a tavern or anywhere where job requests are typically advertised.

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Eluvan? Where are you?

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With a final look at Olorin, Lykos nods to Adian. "You got it, Adi. And the sooner the better: I've had my sodding fill of Cage manners. It'll be nice to be on the road again where things're simpler."
As the two move away from the site of the altercation, the ranger begins to calm down. "I tell you what, Adi," he says to the tieflings, "next job we run into we take. I keep waiting for that golden opportunity to come along, but I'm beginning to think I'm baiting the unicorn here." Adian makes a face, and Lykos grins under his bandanna, "It means I think we're waiting for something that isn't coming. Let's just find us some trip out of this burg and hit the road. Yeah?"

OOC: Agreed, where is our illustrious DM?

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Olorin thinks to himself, "Cage manners, indeed." However, the thought of these two departing brings a sudden and unexplained feeling of discomfort.

"Please wait. I've been called 'berk' at least a dozen times today, and I must confess the word has soured my disposition. May we speak?"

OOC: Hey Eluvan!! We're all here.

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Impressed by the elf's inviting manner, Lykos turns and gives him a shrewd look. "One thing you should know, elf, no planar is likely to shine to a know-it-all, prime know-it-alls least of all. I'm willing to talk to ya but my friend and I are headed to find some employment, if you're headed back to meet with the human maybe we'll see you back there." Giving him a second look, the ranger adds, "What are you doing in Sigil, anyway? You don't seem the Cager type, more like you're on a mission. Anything paying?" He says the last with a smirk.

((I don't know how easier to make this...))

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"I am indeed on a mission. I seek one who would become a god against his will." He adds, somewhat wryly, "though I have no idea why -- I wish I did know it all. Instead, I must follow signs and omens and dreams, and those have led me here, to this prophet, and to you. I mean this would-be god no harm, but I must discuss a troubling vision with him. I believe someone will be flayed, presumably by your Lady of Pain and I wish to prevent that from happening, if I can."

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Ránar Olorin Celebrimbor. My friends call me Rin."

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Adian cannot help but burst out: "'Prevent it'? Are you barmy? How is one odd little elf like you going to defy the Lady of Pain?" Suddenly aware of himself and what he is saying all-too-loudly, he drops his voice. "Do you know what you're saying? It can't be done! I'm not going to--" He turns to Lykos and says very quietly in the aasimar's ear, "I know we need some work, but we can't hang around this berk. He's gone totally barmy and if he tries to go through with it we'll be the ones getting flayed."

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"Cause and effect. Prevent the cause, and you prevent the effect. That is all I would intend. I have no wish to defy the Lady of Pain."

He smiles, then adds, "You'll have to whisper quieter than that. What if it is you that is being flayed in my dreams. Would you not want warning?"

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OOC:hey guys just checking in to let you'll know I'm still in on this, waiting for the action to swing its way back to Primus & me.

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Lykos gives a start at the talk of flaying. "I wouldn't, elf. There's no way to prevent it, I'd rather just get the whole thing going." Giving a nod to Adian, he adds, "Getting mixed up in flaying is dangerous business, though. What are you doing it for?" His immediate response to the idea not-withstanding, this did seem a noble venture and he was tired of pulling seedy jobs.

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"Yes, I expect that flaying would be a very dangerous business. Sometimes I wonder how end up in such things, but rest assured that I'm involved for the same reasons you are."

"I would like to meet Mal-Na-Mo-Wo now. Will you join me now? If not, perhaps we can arrange to talk again later, perhaps at supper?"

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Lykos was at a loss. Here was the beginning of something which could very well be a noble quest, but should he really put such time into something so uncertain? If only some sign could tell him what to do. He turns to Adian, a questioning look on his face. "What do you think, tiefer? Should we go with the elf and talk to this would-be power? Seems like it'd be entertaining if nothing else."

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OOC - Perhaps it's time for the DM to step in and nudge this game along?

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OOC: It's so quiet you can practically hear a pin drop!

BIC: Olorin is momentarily distracted. "Did you hear that? It sounded just like a pin dropping... Never mind. It's probably just a weird omen."

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