Clymestria: Hail Gate keeper, we seek safe passage.
Tarsheva: [hands over a scroll] This should cover it.
Pfepftzet: [Watches the exchange between her fellow travelers and the clerk, allowing Tarsheva and Clymestria handle all the transactions]
Brilligh: [relaxes, sighing a little under her breath at the bumbling idiot put in charge of guarding at least one of the city's gates. Maybe there is some hope of getting out of Sigil alive, she thinks to herself, but watches the exchange between Tarsheva & the clerk closely all the same.]
Clerk: [reads the scroll] Tarsheva. Tis a pleasure to make yer acquaintance. Of course everything's in order. [walks to the table stamps the scroll] Now just th' portal use fee of 2 gp per head an a 5 gp fee for th' wagon an' beast.
Clymestria: [Taking a couple steps to Snatch,] I think the Bank of K might be drawn on for this. [Sifts through a handfull of Jinks, and stingers enough to pull four Merts out, and she strides to the clerk] This is for the 10 of us. [She holds her hand out and drops the disks, Head of Zeus, Griffin, Fiend lord, Dragons Head, they topple into the clerks ourstreached hands, ringing clear.]
Brilligh: [hands over 2 jink, and takes a step closer to the clerk, rasping slowly] Good sir, might you sell maps of this fine burg?
Once all monies exchange hands you are ushered out a large double door into an a wide alley. The light is waining and the smog is thick with the sent of chimney smoke and rotten garbage.
Clerk: Ye be in Goatswood now, Radagast street tis straight ahead cutters. Mind yerself, once ya cross th' Ditch into th' Lower Ward ye'll be in th' Shattered Temple District, that's Godless territory. I wouldn't take a left unless you want to walk through th' Hive.
Clymestria: [At the mention of a godless teritory Clymestria's body stiffens, her face grows grave, and she mutters a prayer to bolster her strength.Clym removes her pack, travelworn and bloodstained, pulling at knotted leather and clasps she attaches her spear to it, for in close quarters such as streets it would be a hinderance, and her shield onto a hook, ready for use but out of hand as a show of intent; before returning them all to her back] Yes, let us accompany you to your destination, Tarsheva, so we might complete our buisness, as it should.
Snatch: (awestricken at the magnitude of the city, thoughts of the battle arenas that she has been taken to for show and spectacle flood her mind, she does not want to leave anyone at this point. splitting up is a very frightening prospect)TARSHEVA, HOW LONG SHALL WE ACCOMPANY YOU THROUGH THIS MAZE? THIS IS TRULY AN AWESOME PLACE WITH ITS OWN RHYTHM AND LIFE, LET US STAY WITH YOU A BIT TO TAKE A PEEK AT OUR TEMPORARY FUTURE UNTIL YOU ARE COMPLETELY UNLOADED AND FINISHED, THEN WE WILL LEAVE YOU, THIS WILL BRING US BOTH A BIT OF ADJUSTMENT TO THIS... UNIQUE LAND.
A lone smoke stack belches puffs of thick acrid smoke into the cool air which is promptly caught upon an unseen breeze. Pan out and buildings of all shapes and sizes become apparent. Structures in brown, blue, green, white, and yellow- twisting and turning in odd geometric and some impossible shapes. Some built of bricks, some of wood, a few seem held together only by the vines and ivy that scratch and crawl into their cracks and crevasses.
Brilligh: [absently reaches up with her gloved hand and shifts the folds of her great hat slightly, burying her silver feather pin under a layer of dusty onyx gauze.] Tarsheva, what was the scroll you handed to the clerk? Will we need something similar to exit Sigil?
Tarsheva: Th' papers were only to import goods.
The strangest sight of all is the horizon, which seems to fold toward you giving you an incredible sense of vertigo. [DEX CHECK PEEPS] The smog blocks your view, but looking up you see what seem to be stars shining though the haze. It seems like the building you exited out of is very large and ornate for this area. Metal blades adorn the upper levels and gargoyles decorate the gutters and corners. Several small groups of humans walk about. You also pass by a large group of Githzerai seeming to whisper conspiratorially, shooting glances about.
Pfepftzet: [The city is unlike any she has every passed through, but instead of unsettling her, Pfepftzet feels a small sense of relief. It would be easy to get lost in a city like this, blend in and disappear. The large group of Githzerai passing by only confirms her assurance that she can blend in.]
Snatch: (eyes on the cart as we exit she is only concerned with those around her, knowing that the scene will engulf her if she is not focused now on her companions, the traveling community she so loves to be a part of.
Clymenstria: As her eyes trace thier path and seem to just wind thier way up, then they are not looking ahead but skyward, or is it down? The fight in High Point comes back to her and she closes her eyes for a moment feeling her body in space, and continues aheadher eyes a little more rigidly on the proper plane
Brilligh: [unfolds the map and traces the streets with her bony fingers until she finds the party's location. She glances up and her black eyes sweep out over the skyline, taking in the chaotic argument of colors and shapes making up the architecture that never seems to end. She looks back at the map, trying to understand why the drawing seems to infer some sort of donut shape. Confused, she stares at the horizon trying to follow it to where it must naturally end, her head falling back. Unconscious of her state, Brilligh's cloven feet slowly begin to rise off the ground and swing out from under her. Before long, she's nearly upside down, leathery wings resting in the dirt, her robe sliding to reveal abnormally long, muscular legs covered in a delicate black & silver down. Harrumphing loudly, she collapses on the ground, all flapping wings and kicking hooves.] Can we get moving? I feel like a sodding lemon just waiting to get bobbed & peeled out here. [she stands, tugs her satchel closer to herself stuffing the map in it, and pulls the brim of her hat down so she can't see the horizon anymore.]
The stench from Goatswood grows stronger assaulting your nose as you approach what the Sigilians affectionately call The Ditch. Drawing close to the bridge there are crowds of children dressed in rags, crippled veterans of wars and people with diseases all clamoring for any type of handout.
Snatch: (the smells of this place are terrible for snatch, she is barely able to keep her composure. she grabs at peter, seeing that he is uncomfortable as well, lifting his hand that is holding his hankerchief and touches the hanky with a small bit of stone with some simple serpant like carving on it, the hanky glows faintly for a moment and the air seems to purify, and the noxious fumes are neutralized around the cloth and the spell expands to surround the whole party. (zone of sweet air: providing an 80ft. cube large enough for all the party to fit in for 8 turns)).
Peter: Thank you Snatch, now you know why I carrie a hankie with me.
Clymnestria: [glances at Peter, envying him his scented hankie, suddenly realising the wisdom of what she had thought to be a rather extranious gesture. And heaves a sigh of relief with the fresh breeze] Thank you sister warrior.
The Ditch cuts through the city scape like a festering wound. It is an approximately 75 foot deep trench with a shallow slough of fetid water below. Tarsheva explains that the ditch is where the people of Sigil dump their waste. Often, thugs dump the bodies of their victims into the slow moving brown/ green waters. Within a few hours the foul stream makes them virtually unrecognizable. Some rumor that its a back water of the Styx, but that's probably not the case. From time to time the Ditch is flooded with the pure waters of the River Oceanus, a cause for celebration.
Pfepftzet: [disturbed by the smell, but she has smelled worse. She is more interested in what Tarsheva has to say about thugs using the Ditch to dump bodies. Perhaps useful information to know.]
Along side the Ditch are hastily built shanties occupied by those opportunists who scavenge amongst the waste and corpses for anything that can be sold for a bit of jink. They set up shop on the other side of the beggars sitting on ragged towels displaying their wares. Their faces are covered so only their eyes show. Their exposed skin is covered in scars and sores.
Peter: [looks over at the beggers and lets the words Eww, gross [slips out, breaking character momentarily].
Brilligh: [eyes the river folk apathetically, oblivious to the noxious smells of the city. She thinks on almost identical scenes from her childhood in the Abyss.]
On the other side of the bridge is a guard tower with eight guards wearing red armor armed with halberds, man-catchers, and cross bows. The guards eye you suspiciously as you pass, they pause briefly when they see Clymenstria but say nothing.
Tarsheva: Those are Harmonium bashers. They act as town guard, but they be a Faction wit their own agenda. Watch yer tongue around those berks, they'd just as soon scrag ya as help ya.
Clymenstria: [She notices the glances and is reminded of a basher she met off the river styxx on a gnoll hunt, and how his eyes shined. His armor the same as these berks. Clym sends a nod thier way, her closed fist coming to rest over her heart, the salute of a centurion, given to those who keep the law. ] I might have to look him up, see what he might be able to tell me about the situation here. [She thinks, a brief smile passing accros her lips.]
Snatch: (eyeing tarsheva, noticing the hesitation/reaction of the guards to clymestria, again making sure to keep focus on her group, and attempts to avoid seeming concerned of their presence (charisma fails) but looks obviously scared and uneasy around these types, she snuggles more closely with the group if possible to not stand out, but is completely conspicuous, her discomfort in this place is palpable.)
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