# The Unity of Rings (drnuncheon's Online Planescape Story Hour) - Pilot (7/20)



## drnuncheon (Apr 12, 2003)

_*Producer's Note:* I'm moving the initial "interview" to later in the thread to free up this first post for the Episode Guide to the series.  Check here for episode synopses and links to the show, interviews and anything else that might come up!_

*Episode Guide*
*Pilot - The Impostor* (Airdates: 05/31/03, 06/11/03, 07/05/03, 07/20/03)
A group of friends who have not seen each other for five years is mysteriously reunited in Sigil, the City of Doors - only to find one of them accused of stealing magic from the city's sorcerers!

*Season One: The Great Modron March*

*101 - The March Begins* (completed)
*102 - Interludes* (post-production)
*103 - Settle the Score* (post-production)
*104 - The Unswerving Path* (in production)
*105 - Ambushed!* (pre-production)
*106 - Untitled* (in production)
*107 - Untitled* (pre-production)
*??? - To Slay a Dragon* (postponed)

*Other Links*
"Intertainment Weekly" article (4/12)


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## Jon Potter (Apr 12, 2003)

*Clever little preamble there, DrN*

Okay, okay. I'll tune in.

Especially since one of my regulars - _Making of Watchman_- is going "off the air" soon.


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## Ruined (Apr 13, 2003)

drnuncheon?  Planescape?...

[SUBSCRIBE]

*ahem*


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## MavrickWeirdo (Apr 13, 2003)

You know what can really help the ratings. Celebrity Camio's. Espicialy during sweeps week (whenever Piratecat and Sagiro post the same day as you).


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## NiTessine (Apr 13, 2003)

Well, this promises to be interesting, especially as _Great Modron March_ is one of my favourite 2E adventures... Eagerly awaiting for the pilot episode.


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## drnuncheon (May 31, 2003)

*"Intertainment Weekly" Article (4/12/03)*

Director Jeff Johnston (_Brotherhood_,_Tales of a Dying World_) announced a new series to begin this spring.  Entitled _The Unity of Rings_, the series will follow the adventures of a group of friends as they explore the planes from Sigil, the City of Doors.

While _Brotherhood_ (and its followup series _Inheritance_) continue to do well in the ratings, the director's most recent series, _Tales from a Dying World_, was a critical success but did not garner the popular attention of his earlier work.  "Really, we didn't get the support from the networks," Johnston said. "I think if there had been a more consistant air time I think we would have done better.  A lot of people won't follow the series if they don't know when it will be on."

"Still," he continued, "It was great working with Kevin [Kulp]'s script, and there has been interest from the cast and crew in doing another _Dying World_ project if he is on board."

What about the rumors that the production of _Dying World_ was plagued by tension among the cast?  "Any time you have so many creative people in one place, there's going to be some tension.  But the cast are all great, they're very close - in fact, they will all be back together on _Rings_."

In addition to the _Dying World_ alums, _Rings_ features newcomers Ted Weil and Carlton Cobb.  Cobb, a last-minute addition to the cast, plays the part of Silenoz the Wolflord, while Weil takes on a dual role as both the paladin Syova and the voice of his talking sword Bogoris.

_The Unity of Rings_ also marks the director's first major appearance in front of the camera.  "I'll be sharing the directing with my wife [Melanie Johnston, Dru from _Inheritance_ and _Dying World_'s Ahoke], which will give me a chance to do some acting."

Veteran writers Monte Cook and Colin McComb have been signed on to produce the first season's major plot arc, the Great Modron March.  "It's very different from the script that Monte did for _Inheritance_," Johnston said, referring to as-yet-unaired (and still in production) episodes of the popular show.  "That was a very bloody script, meant to pack in as much excitement and as many twists as possible for the climax of the series.  The March is going to build up a little more slowly, be a little less focused on the fight, and more on the sense of wonder you get from the setting...and of course, the characters interacting with it."

_The Unity of Rings_ premieres this May on the ENWorld Story Hour Forum.


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## drnuncheon (May 31, 2003)

*Pilot - The Imposter (I)*

The rain is beating itself against the cracked panes of glass of your hole-in-the-wall apartment. As usual. But that isn't what awakens you. What does awaken you is the sound of foosteps outside of your door, something to be truly worried about while living in the Hive. What's more, the footsteps pause outside of your door, and then there is the crinkle of paper.

Curled in a corner, Dey curls defensively in reflex, eyes wide and locked upon the door; sometimes, he forgets that he has a tongue, and now is such a time. His hair matted into unkempt ropes from the return 'home' some handful of hours previous, he has yet to rediscover the habit of keeping himself presentable. Still, the door hasn't broken in, which says a lot for the one waiting.

Pushing himself up the wall by force of will and slightly shaking legs, the sorcerer calls out, "Sod off," though his voice is too weak to let it truly carry. Still, best to be prepared: a few words of magic, meant to make himself presentable; a few more, for his protection. If the feet still remain, he then nears the door.

There is a quick, indrawn gasp of breath, from either a child or a woman. The paper crinkles again, and a note is slid under the door. The feet run away, down the alley, before the sounds of the footfalls are absorbed by the pouring rain.

Child or woman -what-? is what passes through Dey's mind. If humans were commonplace here, even his heart might soften at the sound; children and women are just more masks for creatures of evil to wear and deceive with. He waits a moment later, then kneels and snatches up the paper. Licking his fear-dried lips, he murmurs again, to reveal the presence of magic about the note, and if he is satisfied that there is nothing magical about it, he reads it, backing away from the door (but keeping well out of sight of the window) all the while.

The note, not magical in the slightest, is written in an elegant scrawl, one that you likely recognize from the past. It reads: 

_Deynann -- Deynann --Some acquaintances of mine have need of particular services which you are especially well-equipped to provide. I believe that they are willing to pay you handsomely for your endeavors, should you decide to help them. (And I daresay, that while you will be taking on some personal risk, it will not as bad as that last.) If you are interested, please meet the contact person, a djinn woman who will be looking for you, in the open air cafe in front of Pan's, Market Ward. Lunch time. -HA_

Scowling at the text, Deynann spits on the ground. More than a few choice words pass, in the darkest language that Deynann can think of to utter them in. "'Of course, Your Benign Excellency. I'll attend your summons,', he says, in mock saccharine tones. "Have some words with you, I will. Turn stag on me, and he thinks me an addle-cove for it." The sheet is crumpled in a trembling fist. "Have a chance to thank you -properly-."

The note does nothing to defend itself.

Deynann growls at it, as if he wishes it had, so he could well and truly smite it. However, all he does is shred it and discard it in one of the wet puddles gathering in the corner of the room. Then, recognizing his early morning need, he urinates on it and feels a bit better for doing so. Then, he prepares to leave, making sure he is presentable.

Your trek through the Hive is surprisingly uneventful. The streets smell of urine, sweat, and rotting flesh, and people crouch in alleyways, drinking, smoking, watching. All watch as you walk past.

Keeping a threadbare cloak wrapped about him, Deynann keeps as low a profile as is possible. He's gotten used to the menagerie of the Hive, and has only needed to display his ability to defend himself twice so far -- not a bad ratio, really. It's better to make one's defenses known, as the natural world does readily. The unnatural world often needs somewhat more tutelage in the 'don't touch' lesson.

The Market Ward is bustling with people from all walks of life, as it usually is. Here, absolutely anything that can be bought can be found, both legal and non legal, that is, if you have the jink. Plane-touched abound, angels walk alongside devils, tieflings hold discourse with aasimars. Humans, outsiders, everyone fills the streets, all looking to buy or sell.

Pan's is a well-known restaurant, so it is not difficult to locate, despite the crowd. Your table is easy to spot, since it does have a 10 1/2 foot tall woman, with ghost-pale skin, and snow-white hair, sitting at it. She has a bastard sword strapped across her back, and a cloak over her shoulders that looks as if it was woven from the very stuff of clouds.

Deynann, a long master of the duck and weave, threads through the maze of creatures with a deftness that even some natives might respect. He approaches the maiden with a smile, quelling the rage he feels, and asks courteously. "Might I meet your acquaintance? I hadn't the pleasure, last I knew of your Lord's court. Truly an honor for one such as I." There's no telltale twinge that might describe the smoldering ember he holds in his stomach at the moment; he is very good at what he does.

The djinni looks up from her contemplations, a fleeting smile crossing her face. Her eyes, a dark, brooding blue, are worried. This one, apparently, is not so good at hiding her emotions. "Please," she says, "It would be entirely my pleasure." She stands, bowing curteously, and pulls out a chair for the sorcerer to sit in. "Might I buy you some lunch? I was just about to order something for myself." She pauses. "Oh, I'm called Ahinoam bint Akilah."

Though the pit of Dey's stomach agrees readily with this, Dey makes himself content to digest his rage for a time. "No, truly," he says past a smile, "it's enough to feed upon your beauty. You must be one of your Lord's favored." He does, however, accept the chair. "You are not coming on your Lord's behalf, then... but your own?"

The djinni snorts in a very unladylike way. "Al'Shahid is more... a contemporary of mine than my lord. He owed me a favor, so he gave me your name when I expressed my need to him." She smiles, then. "Though I've no doubt that he would like to lead others to think that of me." She waves to one of the servers. "Some of Pan's best," she tells it. Turning back to Deynann, she says, "Are you certain that you do not wish to eat? And if you do not, do you mind watching me while I do?"

* * *

Kraydn and Ailsa are out in the streets of Gordunn. Ailsa says, sounding worried, "I don't know, Kraydn, if we should be going hat shopping today... I sense-I sense that it is going to be a fateful day. My prayers were not very restful. The Lady is anxious about something." She scowls, her golden eyes glowing with their unearthly light.

"Nonsense. We're just going for a hat! What could possibly go wrong?" The short Vhal's stride is jaunty, even with the lack of appropriate headgear. "Besides, the fact that that goat ate my hat was undoubtedly a sign that this one should get a new one." He breathes in deeply, relishing the sea air. "And," he adds conspiratorially, "this one's tailor said that he'd have some of the latest Velazzatan designs this week."

Ailsa laughs, though the sound has an uneasy note to it. "Yes, well, I suppose so," she says, doubtfully. As they walk, she sighs. "I'm just glad that we burned that ghost ship down the the shoreline. I'm sure that Syova would have been pleased with us," she says, with an attempt at a smile.

As if by magic:

"No."

"But, Sir Knight! -Surely-..."

"I said no, and I meant it. Look...oomph..." An extraordinarily loud crash follows accented by furious cursing and the sounds of fairly heavy, hard objects being hurled at a target. A broken vase whistles through the air, narrowly missing a man who is at the moment doing his best to shield himself from further crockery with his um, shield.

"If you had only listened to me, Sir Knight..."

Kraydn frowns at his wife. "That's a strange thing to bring up on such a beautiful day. Is that one certain she's been getting enough - Syova?!"

Ailsa blinks, rapidly. "I could swear that I recognize that voice...Syova?" She whirls around to look at whatever bizarre, twisted scene might be unfolding before her very eyes.

Syova says, "Bors, not now if you would please."

"On your left, Sir."

The man follows the direction and manages to bring his shield up and over in time to catch a water pitcher. He tentatively calls out from behind his shield, "My sincerest apologies!" Probably unmollified but simply out of ammo, what ever shopkeeper who's stall Syova stumbled into seems willing to let his quarry go."

Ailsa watches the crockery throwing, and shakes her head. "Bizarre. Syova, why are people throwing crockery at you?" she asks, ever the helpful one. She looks as if she's trying to decide between being concerned or being amused.

"Syova - the pitcher -" Kraydn's words go unheeded as the crockery crashes to the ground. "Ah well. It was an ugly pitcher anyway, that one should have been ashamed to have it in that one's stall," he informs the merchant, in a moment of pure Vhalish haggling. "But Syova," he says, turning back to his long-lost companion. "What brings that one to Gordunn? The last we'd heard, that one was riding off in pursuit of that woman...what was her name? Morgan?"

Ailsa winces as the pitcher crashes to the ground, and folds her arms across her chest, her multicolored rings flashing under the sunlight. "Syova, come over here, out of the way of flying objects. Let me get a better look at you."

Syova slowly lowers his shield. He shakes his head, muttering "You -could- have warned me, Bors."

"You -could- have tried listening to me in the first place, Sir." retorts his waist(!?).

Shaking his head again, his vision now unhindered by either shield or pottery he spies Kraydn and Ailsa. Surprised, he raises a hand in greeting and smiles broadly. "Hello to you both!"

Ailsa waves to Syova, taking a step forward. "So did you find her?"

Syova blinks, scratching at his beard thoughtfully. "Find who, priestess?"

It is Ailsa, except for the glowing golden eyes and sunbleached hair. "Er, Morgan whatsherface? I didn't get the details." She looks at Kraydn, questioningly.

"That false paladin. It's unimportant." The Vhal steps forward to deliver a manly embrace to the tall knight, hands grasping his mithril-plated arms. "That one's done well for himself," he says, releasing the paladin and looking him over. "It's good to know that one of us has. But..." he hesitates, as if unsure how to bring up the subject. "...why is that one's belt speaking to him?"

Syova beams down at the shorter Vhal, "I am well enough, yes. And none the worse for wear for having been obliterated." He nods, looking down first at his belt and then over to the attached sword-bearing scabbard. "The good blade, Bogoris if you please."

"Ha ha! Well met, good friends of the noble Syova!" speaketh the sword. Followed by a poorly executed whisper, "They look like trouble, Sir Knight."

Just then, there is the sound of furious shouting, and the thundering of multiple sets of booted feet. A wiry little man, dressed shabbily but cleanly, rounds the corner. Six rough looking types are in hot pursuit. The man looks over his shoulder, eyes wild, and therefore doesn't see Kraydn in time to dodge the stocky Vhal. He crashes directly into him, at top speed.

Kraydn, in the midst of goggling at the rather unexpected spectacle of a talking sword (although why this should be any more unexpected than a talking belt is unclear), fails to notice the oncoming man. Being small and wiry himself, it is no surprise that the hurtling form knocks him from his feet, sending the pair of them rolling on the ground. "Uagh!" he cries in surprise, reflexively trying to grapple the fellow.

"Sorry! Sorry!" The little man gasps out, as he lurches to his feet. He gives one more wild look over his shoulder before he bolts, seconds before the ruffians, wielding shortswords and daggers, are upon him.

Kraydn scrambles to his feet, patting himself down to reassure himself that his purse (such as it is at this point) and other valuables are still intact. "Have a care!" he bellows, heedless of the approaching thugs.

"To war!" cries Syova's sword. "The enemy is upon us!"

"Bors, not now!" admonishes the paladin. Seeing Kraydn climb to his feet with all his bits intact, he calls out to the besieged man and his...besiegers (?). "Here now! Leave him be!"

"It's all right, Syova," Kraydn mutters. "He hasn't stolen anything."

The little man seems to not hear or at least, not care, about those that he has inconvenienced by his flight. He leaps a white picket fence, and runs into someone's private garden. The thugs, intent upon their quarry, ignore the others in the street, and follow him. "Thief!" One of them shouts, shaking his sword. "All that thieve from the Lady Morrigan must die!"

"Well, not from me at any rate," Kraydn adds as the pursuing thugs clarify the situation. He brightens, though, as they mention a name. "Morrigan! That was her name! The false paladin," he explains to his wife.

"Ah yes," Ailsa says nodding sagely. "I remember her now...vaguely." She watches the thugs, to see what they'll do next.

Syova might disagree with the hoodlums, and in fact he does so! He takes up pursuit, clanking and rattling merrily along as he hurries as best he can.

"The battle is joined! To war! To war!" encourages his weapon happily.

Using his shield-free arm for leverage, Syova grabs the top of the fence with one hand and springing all gazelle-like manages to hurl himself up and over without incident.

"Syova? Syova! Where is that one going?" Kraydn cries. He looks helplessly at Ailsa. "What..." Then, drowning his confusion in action, he moves, bounding across the street with impossible strides, arcing into the air to clear the fence, landing easily beside the paladin.

Ailsa doesn't have the confidence to jump the fence herself, but she does manage to scramble over it, slowly, painfully, poking herself in the legs with the wooden slats a couple of times. Cursing all the while.

The little man runs through the garden, and then under a rose arbor. Then, against all logic, he simply vanishes.

Ailsa scowls when the man disappears, and goes over to check out the rose arbor.

Kraydn comes up short as the fellow disappears. "Wha - Ailsa! That man just vanished!" He points an accusing finger at the offending lack of person.

The hoodlums stop running when the man disappears. "Dammit!" One of them frowns at the arbor. "We don't have that key. The little pusboil must've stolen that one too." He sheathes his sword, and then turns around. A look of comical surprise crosses his face when he sees the unlikely trio. "Ummm..." he starts to back away. "Who are you?"

Syova as might be expected, can manage to build up a fair amount of momentum. This momentum is usually difficult to interrupt as in this case. The paladin plows headlong past his companions and into the would-be hoodlums. He manages to knock one of the fellows off his feet before he's able to make his peace with gravity and reign himself in.

The hoodlums scatter when one of their number goes down under the heavily armored paladin. They go leaping over the other fence, and bolt in different directions.

Ailsa reaches her hand through the rose arbor, once, twice, experimentally.

The man on the ground gives a muffled cry, squirming. "Lemme up, you triple damned berk!"

Kraydn reaches out to seize the collar of the downed thug firmly, looking at Syova. "Did that one want to talk with them?" Suddenly seeing what Ailsa's doing, his eyes widen. "Be careful! This one would be most upset of his wife suddenly vanished!"

Ailsa does not vanish. She does, however, put her hands on her hips, and gives the rose arbor her most stern look. "Arbors aren't suppoed to act like that," she says firmly.

Syova gives himself a good shake to resettle his armor about his body before turning to focus on Kraydn's trophy. "Why were you chasing that man?"

Kraydn hauls the fellow to his feet. "This one hasn't done this sort of thing in a long time," he mutters to himself, giving the thug a shake. "Answer him!"

The man sputters a bit. "He's a damned thief, is what he is. Took somethin that wasn't his to take. I'm supposed to get it back," he says, glaring balefully at the rose arbor.

Faces begin appearing in the window, looking out into their garden fearfully.

Ailsa ers, looking up at the window. "Maybe we should go somewhere else," she says, pointing to the white archway leading out onto the street, on the far side of the house. She begins sidling towards the archway, looking hopefully at the menfolk.

Syova seems oblivious to the drawn attention. Frowning, "What was it he took from you?"

Kraydn has the decency to venture an embarassed grin towards the faces at the window. After all, that amazing leap of his *did* land him in the middle of the begonias. He surreptitiously wipes the sad floral remnants from the soles of his boots, and raps the thug smartly on the back of the head with the silver handle of his walking-stick. "That one heard her, let's go. Syova?"

"Some sort of key, he said," Kraydn notes, as he begins marching the ruffian out of the garden.

As Kraydn marches the ruffian across the garden, Syova doesn't really have much choice but to follow, if he's to get his answer. The ruffian answers, looking vaguely embarrassed, "A lady's hatpin," he says. Just then, Kraydn shoves him through the archway. And as the group follows Kraydn, they leave a very confused ruffian alone in the grass. Paladin, priestess, and sailor simply... vanish.

* * *

The three of you are standing in what has to be a closet. It's cramped, small, and dark. You can see light pouring underneath the door, from the other side.

"Lianna's T-TS!"

Ailsa startles, too surprised to scold Kraydn for his vulgarity. "What in hell?"

"Mmmph mmm phfftmph mrt!" states a voice from roughly waist level.

Ignoring it Syova queries, "What have you done, Kraydn!?"

There is a thump of flesh against wood, and a sliding sound. "What in the name of all the gods just happened?" asks the Vhal. Then, metal clatters against metal, and the door - for such it is - swings open.

It is perhaps no surprise to the three that what they see on the other side is not where they left. In fact, it is far different: instead of the sunny, open streets of Gordunn, there is a tiny, dusty room. A room full of racks upon racks of hats.

Tall hats, small hats, hats made from beaver and cat and other things less recognizable, hats made to fit heads of a shape that no human could possibly wear. And in one corner, forgotten and neglected, there is a wide-brimmed hat, its golden buckle and plume gray with dust.

"A-ha!" says the Vhal triumphantly. "This one told you it was a sign!" Lifting it up, he finally looks around him. "Although why we are suddenly in a milliner's is beyond this one's understanding..."

* * *

"Would be hard for a lady such as tha... ah, you, to offend," replies Deynann evenly, his tongue lilting as that of the angels. "Though... I am ashamed to admit my knowledge of your courtly stature, and meant no offense by claiming you a member of the court of Al-Shahid. Please, I beg for my pardon. He is not one given to details." Deynann's thoughts, of course, dwell upon the great lack of details in the last bargain made with the djinn noble, and he stifles the clenching of his jaw.

The djinni shakes her head, with a grin. "No pardon necessary. Al-Shahid is an ass, I know it, and I'm sure that you know it too." She frowns. "I don't know what he's told you... so I'm not at all certain as to where to begin." Her food gets served, and she pays for it with the proper coinage. There is enough for two set down, in case the sorcerer decides to eat as well.

Deynann's eyes glance over the food more than once as he continues conversation. "One is hardly of position to know such things. Though it is clear he knows much about myself, and I wonder how it is that he came to know of my... return to Sigil." Dey's inquisitiveness has an acute point, and lady or not, he does not hesitate to make his question completely non-rhetorical.

The djinni starts eating as if she hasn't eaten in three weeks. She looks up, after the question is posed, and shrugs. "He's got such an extensive spy network," she says, "That I have no idea of why he knows what he knows. He just does." She scowls. "He knew about my betrothal before I did, something that I shall likely never forgive him for." Her tone is light, and it sounds as if any bitterness that she feels for the other djinni is much, much lesser than Deynann's own.

Deynann studies the djinn lady, then looks away from the table in thought. "He said that my skills might be especially pertinent to what is required. I have no doubt of that. What I -do- have doubt in, if you'll permit me, is the nature of the task or tasks that are at hand. I'm not... well inclined to much in the way of prolonged favors at the moment."

The djinni finishes off her food in a couple more big bites, and then pushes her portion of the food away. "Well, I'm not sure how long it will take," she hedges. "It might be just a few hours, it might be a few days. I wouldn't think it'd be any longer than that, though," she muses. "I'd best give you as many of the details as I can, though, and you can make up your mind when you've heard me out. First of all, are you willing to work in a group? I think that what we're asking isn't safe to do completely alone. We're working on recruiting multiple people, with different sets of skills."

Deynann places two fingers against his right temple, his brow smooth, for the moment at least. "Mmm. I think, as you have said, I should hear the details to their fullest. It may be that I will not need the assistance of others."

The djinni nods, clenching her jaw. "The fey have taken hostage one of my family's... retainers. He is someone that means very much to us, and we want him back. Unfortunately, we believe that they have taken him into their own realm... that of faerie. We want him back, though we really do not care what methods are used. I think that we're hoping to resolve the situation diplomatically, but we fear that it might come down to violence. Hence, the reason for having other people work with you."

* * *

"No! I don' care!" cries a thickly accented voice. "You ged oudda my shop now, you! Alla time people trooping through my shop in and out of closets, I'm sick of it! Ged out! Out!" A man with curving horns and the lower body of a goat shoves a trio of bewildered humans out of a nearby storefront.

One clutches a dusty hat, and objects. "But...this hat..."

"You take da hat and you shov it op your sodding backside! No more you come through my store! Stupid Primes! Ged out! Out!" Much attention on the street is turned to the unlucky trio.

Ailsa straightens herself, smoothing her silken clothes back down. "Hmmph," she says, looking over her shoulder at the hat man. "Of all the nerve..."

"At least this one got a hat."

* * *

Deynann smirks, latching onto a single word in her story that he has quite taken the liking to. "I think you've come to no better person than you could have hoped to have found. At least, regarding one schooled in finessing agreements where conflict would be otherwise." He dips his chin a little, showing a hint of humility, though only a hint. "So... what is the dark of it, as they say around here. The catch, the 'little thing' that you are uncomfortable to mention."

The djinni bites her lower lip, sighing. "The 'little thing'? What, asking someone to go into faerie, into danger, to clean up one of our messes isn't uncomfortable enough?" She shakes her head. "I suppose I'm angry that I'm not to go myself. I'd like to flay some fey alive, with my blade. But we need mortals. We need someone with finesse, which I've been assured that you have, and we need some people to back you up-- she trails off, fixing on a point over Deynann's shoulder. She leaps to her feet, and bellows across the street, "Kraydn ibn Tayyar ibn Iraj! Get your little Vhal ass over here and give me a hug!"

Kraydn, startled, looks up from his inspection of his new prize...and finally takes in the city around him. The strangeness of walking out of a garden and into a hat shop seemed to overwhelm the fact that the proprieter was not quite human, but now, in the bustling ward of Sigil's marketplace, with a woman twice his height bellowing at him, it comes home.

"This one doesn't think we're in Gordunn anymore..."

"Sodding tourists," buzzes a passing fellow with a mantis head, as it is forced to detour around the three. Across the street, at the cafe, a green-skinned waitress steps neatly over the barbed tail of one of her bat-winged customers on her way to set down drinks before a pair of men who seem to be carved from stone.

And above it all, in the sky, an enormous arch, its underside covered with buildings hanging from it like enormous stalactites.

"Did you see that, Sir Knight!? Common thieves! We were treated like nothing more then common thieves!" protests a disgruntled voice from amongst the trio.

"Bors," responds the more armored of the three, "Not now." The bearded man looks down at the shortest of the three, "How did we...?" He's interrupted by the bellowing woman from across the street.

Deynann leaps out of his seat, taking cover as best as he can, which is to say, not very well. At least until he murmurs an incantation, rendering him unseen to most eyes.

The djinni bounds across the street when Kraydn doesn't immediately react, and puts her big, broad hands around his waist. She lifts him into the air, much like one would a doll or small child. "Kraydn! I did not think that I would ever see you again!" She puts him down, and then gives Ailsa similar treatment. "And Ailsa Liannaschild! You're still married to him?!"

Kraydn mumbles a reply into the vasy cloudy cleavage that is suddenly pressed to his face, staggering a bit when he is set down. "What a greeting," he murmurs to himself.

The ten foot tall woman with white hair and skin turns her attention to the paladin next. "I don't believe that I know you," she says, confused. "Kraydn, were you travelling with this fellow when we met?" She shakes her head. "No, no. I'm sure that I'd have remembered such a good looking man." Winking at the paladin, she then looks back to Kraydn. "What a greeting...? Oh! I forgot! You like tall women." She throws her head back and gives a boisterous laugh.

Kraydn claps his hat onto his head, and sneezes once as the dust floats down around him. "Ahinoam," he says. "Not that this one is unhappy to see you again, but he thought that one was bound for the land of the djinn." He looks around him skeptically. "Is that where this is?"

The djinni, or Ahinoam, as Kraydn just called her, looks around, sniffing. "No, no. An entirely different place." She grins broadly. "Welcome to the city of Sigil, the city of doors."
Deynann scrutinizes the group invisibly; new words come to his lips, words which will assist him. He cannot stop to be surprised yet, only skeptical. Thoughts buzz through his head, and worse, his spell only compounds his own thoughts with those of others. He focuses upon the one with the visage of his brother, concentrating.

Kraydn scowls, and his hand moves to the hilt of his blade. "Someone is trying to cast a spell on us!" he hisses.

Ailsa looks around herself, openly gaping. She pauses, looking at Kraydn. "A spell? Where?" She looks around the street, and perhaps seems to notice all of the non human creatures around. Putting a hand on the Vhal's shoulder, she says, "Are you certain, Kray? I don't see anything going on... I mean, besides the fact that we just stepped through a portal into a strange city..."

"This one's got no idea!" Kraydn says. He refrains from drawing his blade and waving it around, though. As he looks around, he pales. "This place is full of ifrits, it could be anyone."

Ahinoam frowns, looking back at the table. "I'm with a sorcerer... maybe he can help." She gestures at the empty table. "Or...not."

Dey's eyes narrow -- his brother was never so wise to the ways of magic. Still, this -is- a very good imitation of his brother. He restrains the lightning that longs to bite from his fingertips, listening and turning his attention to... Ailsa?

Ailsa startles. "I - think I notice it too," she says, her glowing eyes scanning the crowd with more curiousity than anger. "Still, whatever it is, didn't hurt us in any way. Torkald's balls... there's no way that I'm going to be able to isolate a single caster."

"This one wishes Dey were here, he'd know what to do." Kraydn peers around him warily, although the passing hordes of bizzare entities pay them little heed, except for the occasonal admonition to 'get out of the sodding street, berk'.

The djinni blinks at Kraydn. "I was just talking with a gentleman going by the name of Deynann. But not Dey," she says, helpfully.

Kraydn blinks. "How odd. This one's brother is named Deynann. Furthermore, he is a sorcerer." He peers into the crowd. "Still," he says with a shrug, "when one travels with Lianna's servants one gets used to strange coincidences."

Syova for his part seems caught in indecision. To smite or not to smite. 'Somebody' is in favor of it, crying "Harlot! Fiend!" but whom that might be isn't readily visible. The cries go largely ignored though, for better or worse. The armored man settles on alternating between blinking rapidly and rubbing his eyes.

For the most part, the voice at Syova's waist is ignored by the passers-by, though occasionally, the paladin does draw strange looks.

Ailsa steps back out of the way to let a devil?! walk by her. "Oh, excuse me," she says politely, not seeming to register the fact that he is a devil until he's well past her. Then she stops, staring after him. "Umm," she says weakly. "Yeah. Kraydn, a devil just walked by us."

Kraydn whispers, sotto voice, "This one was trying not to draw its notice."

The djinni looks at the stupified trio, and then frowns decisively. "I think that you need the Sigil primer," she says, "Before someone tries to, I believe the term is, 'write you in the dead book.' Come back to my table, and I'll try to explain."

"Strange coincidences," mutters a voice, though no body seems particularly attached to it. "What's this trickery about. Else there is no agreement to be had." The latter directed upwardly, though still not finding a good, solid, place of residence.

Kraydn scowls, and rubs at his ear, as if unsure what he heard. "That one's sword sounds remarkably like Deynann," he says to the paladin.

The djinni frowns at the voice. "No trickery," she says, as if invisible voices talk to her often. "At least, on my part. Kraydn, Ailsa, and erm, friend? Come on, my table is over here. She strides across the street, and people do tend to get out of her way.

Kraydn peers around, letting himself be led. "Eh? Oh...yes...yes. Syova, this is Ahinoam bint Akilah. A genie," he adds. "Ahinoam, this is Syova, mighty paladin of Landyne. Er, and his sword, Buggerus."

"Devils!? To warmmph!"

The one voice muffled if not silenced by a heavily calloused hand wrapped around his sword's hilt, Syova just...nods in response. "Bogoris, Kraydn. Bogoris." Back to blinking at his surroundings.

Kraydn looks vastly relieved at the correction. "Ah," he says. "This one thought it was an...unusual name for a sword."

Ailsa shrugs, and starts to follow the djinn woman. "Ahinoam..." she trails off, unable to voice her concerns eloquently. "Gods, I couldn't have been more right this morning," she mutters. "It is indeed a fateful day." She sits down, rubbing her temples as if she feels a headache going on. "Ahinoam," she tries again, "What in the name of all of the ever-lovin' gods is going on? I've been to other planes before, I've travelled to the home of my goddess, but I have never wandered through someone's garden into the closet of a hatshop in a city filled with... other people."

Ahinoam pulls up a chair, and gestures for the other two men to sit down. "Please," she says, looking around as if suddenly aware of how much attention the group has drawn to itself. "Sit down. I promise that I'll try to explain everything." She looks around, sighing. "I think my sorcerer is frightened of you," she tells them. "We're going to have to start searching for someone competent again." She drives her fist into the table, and then after a long pause, says, "Sorry. I'm a little tense right now."

"This one would volunteer his brother, but he hasn't seen a trace of him for years," Kraydn says apologetically. "It's as if he disappeared off the face of the world." He sits.

Ahinoam nods. "It's alright," she says with a sigh. "Now, you're in Sigil. There's portals from here to most of the other planes, probably all of them. You have to have the proper key to get through a door, though." She looks at the group consideringly. "I suppose it's possible that one of you had the right key to the right door without realizing it. That has to be what happened..."

Kraydn frowns. "That must be what those fellows were talking about in the garden." He looks up and explains, "they claimed that someone had stolen some keys, and were trying to recover them. And something about a hatpin."

Syova sits, too. In the suave and swarthy way paladins are known for.

Ahinoam frowns. "A hatpin? I suppose a hatpin could have been the key. Do you have it?"

"No, this one got the hat after he came here." Kraydn inspects it for a pin, just the same. The had has no pin, and so he shrugs, and dusts it off, revealing the rich red color of the plume. He beams with delight that it matches his clothing, and displays it proudly to his wife before placing it back on his head.

Ailsa watches Kraydn with amused tolerance, and then turns her gaze back to the djinni. "So. How do we get back to Gordunn?"

"Without going through the hat shop," Kraydn mutters. "The proprieter was less than happy to see us the first time..."

Ahinoam considers. "Well, it might be hard to find the right portal. One can't always predict where they come out. I'd hate for you to step onto the elemental plane of fire or somesuch, by accident. Say... would you be interested in helping rescue a friend of mine.

A thought dawns on the weathered Vhal. "That fellow that ran into me...if he had that 'key'..." He rapidly inspects himself for a hatpin, and holds it up triumphantly. "Ah-hah! The very thing!" Another thought strikes him, and he sets it carefully on the table, looking at Syova. "Er, if it was stolen from this false paladin, is it...evil?"

Syova thinks a moment before shaking his head. "Oh, I believe she was a true paladin. Just a very poor one. If that was indeed hers I would think it is safe enough."

Ahinoam looks down at the hatpin, doubtfully. She then snatches the pin, and hands it back to Kraydn, her large, white hand blocking it from view. "These things are hot commodities," she says. "You might want to be cautious about who knows you have a key."

Ailsa lays her shield, which looks like it has been carved from a large block of ice, on the table in front of her. "So," she says, idly tracing Lianna's sigil, emblazoned on the shield. "Now what? Are we stuck here?"

Kraydn ahs, tucking it away. It wouldn't look good on his hat. It is, after all, a lady's hatpin. "But...it's just a hatpin," he says. "Surely one could walk into any of a dozen stores and purchase one. They do sell hatpins here, don't they?" Visions of a vast hatpin-importing empire float briefly through his mind in a way that needs no spell to be read.

Ahinoam shakes her head. "This is a special hatpin," she says, lowering her voice to a whisper. "It's perfectly mundane, but it gives you access to one of the Sigil portals. There are people who would kill for that privilege." She eyes Kraydn's weapons, and adds, "Well, there are people who would die for it, anyway. And to answer your question, Ailsa, you might well be 'stuck here' for awhile. Unless you feel like a jaunt into faerie, that is. I know where that portal is..."

Ailsa glances at Syova, to see how the paladin is holding up.

Syova seems to be hanging in there. Still a little plane-shocked maybe, but there. The sword at his side, still with a hand clamped tightly over it, seems to quiver ever so slightly in indignation.

Kraydn tries to wrap his mind around 'special' and 'perfectly mundane' and 'portal' all at once, and visibly fails. "This one supposes. All this talk of magic hatpins makes this one's head ache." He looks around the bewildering marketplace, which does nothing for his state of mind. And then he makes the mistake of looking up, and his eyes widen. "Gods above," he says, heedless of the fact that it is actually a city up there. He points. "Why don't they fall?" he demands.

The sea of beings parts, and there stands a small figure, perhaps five and one-half feet in height. Its cloak is a well-worn grey. It advances soundlessly towards the table.

A seat lifts once more to its four legs, where it had been knocked over earlier. It squirms for a second, and then it speaks words of magic power. Those words produce the figure of a well-dressed man, predominantly blue but with golden trim about the seams and cuffs. He faces the djinn, not any of the others at the table, hands in his lap as if he were calmly joining a meeting. "... I sincerely hope this is no deception," he murmurs.

Another seat topples as Kraydn leaps to his feet. "Gnaaah!" he bellows, scrabbling for his rapier - and drawing the attention of the crowd. It's halfway out of its sheath before it sinks in. 

"DEY?!"

Ailsa glances up, and sees the hooded figure approach. She nods politely, without recognition, and then turns to stare at the upturned chair. "Deynann?! Dear, put your sword away. It's your brother. Deynann," she says, as if trying to reassure herself as well.

Ahinoam remarks, starting to look overwhelmed, "Oh, there you are. And... I don't think there's a deception," she says, looking around the table at everyone.

Deynann assumes a nonchalant look, one which he didn't have just minutes before when his brother's name had been mentioned. "Mm," he says, then nods to the seat. "Always making a spectacle out of the least things, that one is."

The hooded figure tilts its head as Deynann reappears to such consternation, and allows the reunion of family to continue unabated.

The sorcerer's appearance making about as much sense as anything else today prompts Syova to simply offer a smile from where he's seated. "Hello, Deynann. You look well."

"But...but...how...when..." Kraydn splutters - not sitting, but at least not drawing the blade. "Where has that one been for five years!" he bursts out. "Mother and Father have been terrified that that one was...eaten by a dragon, or turned into a newt!" He sits, or starts to, before remembering that the chair is gone. Without taking his eyes off of his long lost brother, he reaches behind him to right the seat, and lowers himself once again. "Did that one have an accident with a hatpin as well?"

Ailsa's face becomes wreathed in smiles. "Deynann... we've been so worried about you. It's wonderful to see you again," she says, warmly, elbowing her husband in the leg. "Sit, Kraydn. Isn't it great to see your brother again?"

Ahinoam looks up at the monk, smiling at him. "Is there something that I can do for you, good sir?"

"Perhaps," comes the oddly familiar male's voice. "Or perhaps I might assist you in your return home, friend Ailsa..."

Ailsa looks up, sharply. "Eh? Who're you?" She squints, trying to see under the hood. "Is that... Sulemein? Gods above! The Unity of Rings indeed..."

Sulemein lowers his hood, his head bowing to hide his smile. His long, thin hair swings across his face until he rises.

"Not scared," corrects Deynann to the djinn. "Simply skeptical." A returned nod to both Ailsa and Syova, his smile less enthusiastic than is given him. "Worried? About me? Pfft. Varse knew, more or less, that I was around." A further nod to Sulemein, "Perhaps I should not be so surprised that there's such a reunion. The Unity of Rings, after all." He gives Ailsa a deeper inspection, especially her eyes. "Though, one might say that things have changed..." he says, his voice drifting off in implication.

Kraydn's head whirls about like a befuddled owl's. "I...but..." he slumps, joining Syova in the land of happy-but-confused acceptance.

The djinni kicks out the final chair for Sulemein. She smiles at him too. "Please, join us," she says. "I have a feeling that some of us are bewildered out of our very socks, but it sounds as if you are known and welcomed by all."

Ailsa grins broadly at Sulemein, and then turns back to Deynann, nodding. "Some things have changed," she says. "I- it's a long story. But I'm not fully human any longer."

"Your first trip to Sigil, brother?" asks Deynann casually, maybe trying to ease the strangeness. "With your wife being who she is, I'm surprised you haven't paid a visit well before now. Glad I was at home to see you." Nodding at Ailsa's statement, the sorcerer murmurs, "Claimed by a higher power. Someone is well aware of potential where it exists. Aside from Kraydn, of course."

Kraydn sorts that out and decides that it's a compliment. He beams at his elder brother. "But...home, Dey? That one lives here now?"

Sulemein inclines his head to the djinn. "I thank you." He ignores the others for now, and turns to speak to Deynann. "Perhaps there is something you should know, friend..." He pauses. "You have been the subject of unhealthy scrutiny, of late..."

Ailsa nods to Deynann, and then grows serious. She looks back to the monk. "Unhealthy scrutiny?"

Facing Sulemein, Dey doesn't allow any emotion to mark his expression. "As in... this moment? Mm... this might be... difficult to handle, without drawing attention. And attention is the last thing, I think, any of us want." Looking back at the group, he mutters, "Despite the obvious..."

Sulemein dips his head to Ailsa, though he maintains his focus on Deynann, curious as to the man's reaction. "Several moments past... At present, they partake of bub. One named 'Freyd', in the company of a pair of females, one a halfling, the other tiefling."

"On and off for the past four years. However, I'll be damned if the 'unhealthy scrutiny' will find its way back to my family." Deynann stands, smiling wanly. "I beg the leave of all of you. Friend Sulemein has brought to my attention some... matters of importance. I'm hoping to attend to these with minimal fuss."

Sulemein murmurs, so that Deynann can hear, "It was overheard that you drained him of magic, and so they desire your demise..."

Ailsa scowls. "Now wait a minute," she says. "Let us help you... Kraydn and I have been through enough that we can stand up against a measly trio of attackers..."

"That's right," Kraydn says. "This one's not about to let his brother face them alone." His jaw acquires that stubborn set that Deynann knows so well - the one that usually ment a trouncing for whatever boy taunted the slender Vhal in their youth.

Sulemein does give Ailsa his attention now, and points out a tiny little figure across the plaza. "Look, friend Ailsa, Kraydn, and behold the little one... She would appear frail and dainty as a flower, and yet... I have observed as she ripped a daemon's wings from its back...." He instructs, "Not all is as it may appear, in this place. Never assume."

Ailsa glances up at Sulemein, scowling even deeper. "All the more reason to surround oneself with allies, and not go haring off alone."

Deynann, smirking at Sulemein, replies, "And they wouldn't be the first, as you know." Sternly, he says to Ailsa, "I'm certain that you have. My whole objective is not to -assert- a connection to you and Kraydn, however. With as little offense as I can manage, I've earned some unfriendly acquaintances here, and they're not what you Primers are accustomed to."

Kraydn sniffs. "Us Primers? That one was born in the same town as this one, Deynann..."

Ailsa looks offended. "We have travelled some of the planes," she remarks quietly. "Just because we chose to spend most of our time on the plane of our births doesn't mean that we can't- oh, nevermind," she says.

A tall, gaunt human approaches the table. He is wearing all black, and seems to be a little drunk. He is flanked, on either side, by a halfling woman, and a tiefling woman. He looks angry. The tiefling keeps saying, "Freyd, Freyd... don't do this."

Deynann chuckles. "Like I said, as little offense as I can manage. Perhaps it would have been better had I not said anything, but... it's been a while." He backs away from the table, then turns to face the three. "Pardon me," he murmurs, as he moves to step past.

Sulemein rises, and makes himself ready to interpose himself.

"Freyd" studies Deynann cooly. "So why did you do it?" he nearly spits. "That question has been haunting me every day since you did it."

"...from the same womb," Kraydn continues. "And if that one thinks his brother is just going to wander off while he faces down a, a pack of ifrits, then he is sadly mistaken." He glares up at the approaching trio and stands. Thinking back to the vulgarities on the street, he tells them, "Sod off, berks. That one," he says with a gesture to Deynann, "is the brother of Kraydn ibn Tayyar ibn Iraj, and any problem those ones have with him is a problem with this one as well."

Ailsa rises to her feet, to stand beside Kraydn. She folds her arms across her chest, fixing her glare on the trio, rather than Deynann.

Deynann smiles at Freyd. "Look, cutter, if I knew what you were talking about, I'd be more than happy to let you in on the dark of it. By the Lady, if you're wise to a drink, we can answer your questions and tumble to whatever you're looking for."

Kraydn leans surreptitiously over to the djinn, murmuring out the side of his mouth, "What did this one's brother just say?"

Ahinoam pats Kraydn on the head affectionately. "You'll learn," she says.

Freyd shakes his head, taking a half step back. "A drink... no... it's not supposed to happen like this." He puts one hand on either side of his head, but then sits down. "I wouldn't mind some bub," he says, in a small voice, unable to conceal the fact that his voice is trembling.

Ailsa sits back down, slowly, eyeing Frey's escorts distrustfully.

Sulemein merely stands by, casual, relaxed, ready. He studies the trio, once more guaging their ability.

Kraydn sniffs as the man backs down, and crosses his arms with some small measure of satisfaction. "Hah! A wise choice." He seats himself again, letting his brother do the talking.

The halfling and the tiefling remain standing as well, both standing behind Freyd, hovering between exasperation with him and a fierce protectiveness.

Deynann nods amicably, waving over one of the serving... things, and says, "Some bub for my newfound friend here, and maybe a share or two for his friends." He grins at the others, shrugging a bit. "Look, there's little that some conversation can't handle... and after a pint or two of the house best, maybe we'll get somewhere."

Freyd grunts, and then looks up at Deynann through red-rimmed eyes. "I thought I would hate you," he says forlornly. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

"Now, Freyd...?" asks Deynann, shifting his eyes to the tiefling for confirmation. "What seems to be getting you peery about this? -Hate- me? Must've done something even I don't know about for that." Once the bub comes, he shares it around, giving a fair coin in exchange. "Look. Whatever you think I've done, I'm sorry. I can't promise I've done it, and if you'll give a leatherhead a chance for reasoning, you'll probably find I'm not your berk."

Freyd takes his tankard, and greedily downs about half of it before talking again. He looks up again at Deynann. "You came to me, when I'd first come here, from Prime. You held me down in an alley, and pulled every bit of magic from me." He bursts into very unmanly tears, too far gone in his misery to care about appearances. "I-I was a sorcerer too. Was. Now... I'm nothing." The tiefling begins to massage Freyd's shoulders, sighing. She exchanges glances with the halfling.
Kraydn tugs again at Ahinoam's cloak. "What language is he speaking?"

Sulemein maintains his thoughtful study of the pair of female protectors, though he answers Kraydn's query, "It is your language, friend Kraydn - after a fashion. It is the cant of the City of Doors."

Ahinoam nods to Sulemein, while looking at Kraydn. "Consider it a regional dialect."

Sulemein stresses part of his next question, "Does _that_one_ understand?" He looks faintly amused.

Ailsa grins at Kraydn. "Remember how I had to talk like a Vhal when we visited Vhalisk, to make people listen to me?"

Kraydn sniffs. "This one knows his brother is perfectly capable of speaking properly," he mutters in an aggrieved tone. "Even if the rest of you don't."

Deynann's eyes pan through the people in this small gathering. "Freyd, I -promise- you, on pain of the Lady's shadow, that not only am I seeing you for the first time in my life, but that I have no capabilities like you describe. Freyd, sorcerers don't take each other's blood-rights." Then, to the tiefling, "How long's he been like this?"

The tiefling sighs. "Since he lost his power. A... month ago?"

Freyd stares at Deynann, his shoulders sagging. "I-I believe you," he says, muttering into his cup, "Dammit. Why would someone do this? Why would someone make themself look like you to do this?"

Sulemein glances to Deynann as he considers. "Perhaps someone impersonating your form, friend... I should wonder if others have been so affected as well..."

Deynann ahs. "Strange, since I haven't been in Sigil until, say, a few days ago. Since several months prior." A quizzical look at Ailsa, then more commiseration with Freyd. "Let's see what we can do for you, cutter. No one, least of all me, has the right to take your magic from you."

Freyd draws in a ragged breath, and nods. "That'd be... good." He looks over his shoulder at the tiefling, grabbing her hand. "Now what do we do?" he asks her, sadly. "It was supposed to be so easy. I was supposed to kill him, and then go find more magic."

Kraydn bristles visibly at the words 'kill him'.

Deynann looks over at Kraydn, brow darkening. The word 'don't' could magically appear in the air, but it's just as implied as is. Dey returns his attention to Freyd and his two companions at Sulemein's question.

Sulemein speaks up with a query of his own now, "Did someone tell you to do this, friend Freyd?"

Freyd shook his head. "No," he says, shaking his head. "I've been following him for a few weeks now, trying to get his schedule." He frowns at Deynann. "I guess if you were just getting back to the city a few days ago, that would be why you changed your schedule. I was starting to get paranoid, thinking you were on to me." He puts his head down on the table and closes his eyes.

Someone comes a little too close to the table for the halfling's sensibilities, perhaps, because her lips curl back, and she snarls at him, revealing razor sharp canines. "Get. Back." she says, speaking for the first time throughout this meeting. Her tiny little body seems to radiate menace, surprisingly enough.

Sulemein appears struck by a realization, "I... seem to recall something similar recently... The tale was that some sod claimed to have been drained in similar fashion as friend Freyd, though he faded not long after. It was thought that he was peeling berks for their jink..." Sulemein adds, "And failed."

Freyd's eyes fly open. "This... happened to someone else?" He lifts his head, staring at the monk, and then his visage grows angry in appearance once more. "I'm sure it's because the poor sod was sorcerer, through and through. Least I had my fighting abilities to keep me alive."

Kraydn looks helplessly at the djinn, mouthing 'Peeling? Jink?'

Sulemein nods slowly to Freyd, then glances to Kraydn, smiling apologetically for a moment. "Tricking people for their gold, friend."

Kraydn ahhhs. That at least, he understands.

"Mmm. So someone's been wandering around with -my- face on him... him, her or it." Dey seems unhappy about this, but in general, much more positive than he had been with the prospect of someone trying to kill him in the immediate future. "I'll tell you what, Freyd. I'm as anxious to find this other 'me' as you are, probably more so. Probably doing all sorts of mischief. Being as I'm going to be held to blame, and probably by people less reasonable and astute as yourself, it's best for me to find this berk and write him in the book myself. You tumble?"

Freyd nods. "I want a piece of his heart," he says. "If you're able to find him." He doesn't seem to be joking. "Alia, Ura and I are staying in the Golden Inn. If there's anything I can do to help..."

Kraydn leans to Sulemein. "Which book?"

Sulemein allows a brow to rise. A little. He then looks to Kraydn, and speaks these chilling words. "The Book of the Dead. The Dead-Book."

Deynann claps Freyd on the shoulder. "Done plenty, Freyd. Keep the chant low, lest this sodding stick-head hear about it. Let me know what I can do for a fellow dragonblood, if it comes up. You found me once, I have no doubt in your ability to do so again."

"But, but, Tombren keeps that!" Kraydn protests. "We can't just go writing in his book, we'd be, we'd be...in big trouble," he finishes, somewhat lamely.

Ailsa whispers to Kraydn, "I think he means that he's going to go kill the guy himself."

The djinni smiles to herself, and then rises to her feet, towering over the table of smaller beings. "I believe that you have more... personal problems to solve for the moment," she says, looking disappointed but accepting. "Kraydn, Ailsa, if you have need of anything, I still consider myself to be very much in your debt. You need only look for the tall pale woman in the crowd."

Sulemein inclines his head in affirmation of Ailsa's translation, then bows to the djinn. "Good travels, friend."

"What? Oh. This one thought he was being literal." Kraydn relaxes. "Killing him, why didn't he just say so?"

Ailsa gives Deynann an apologetic look, and sighs.

Deynann looks up at the djinn. "I hope you understand... one can't have their name besmirched all over Sigil and allow it to continue. Perhaps, when this is resolved, you'll still be looking for a solution." He grins up at the djinn. "Hopefully one will have come to you, one to your liking."

The djinni mmmms, nodding. "Hopefully," she says, doubt in her voice. "But, I do understand your situation," she says. She starts to move away, and then pauses. "Did you just say that you'd been gone from Sigil for several months?"

Deynann shifts, his jaw setting for a moment, then loosening into a smile. "... yes, I have been. Is something the matter?"

The djinni looks confused. "Oh," she says. "I just thought- no, I must have been mistaken. But, well, in case it's important, our mutual friend told me, at least I thought... that the two of you had a couple of meetings. But not in the past few days. I thought it was a few weeks ago."

Deynann's pupils darken into pits. "... ah," he whispers, his voice frigid as a void. "Yes, thank you for this... information."

Kraydn looks from the djinn to his sibling and back. "This one has no idea what's going on here, but he's not letting you get into it alone, brother." He uncrosses his arms and leans forward. "Besides, Mother would have a fit if I did."

Sulemein considers a few moments more, then dismisses Freyd and company. "Come, friends. My home lies not far from this place. Let us relax there, and we shall help settle you into this new land..."

*[Commercial Break: New improved White-Out, for cleaner, brighter teeth!]*


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## drnuncheon (Jun 11, 2003)

It is an unusually bright and cheery day in the city. There isn't a cloud to be seen, and under the bright light, the paving stones and sidewalks, still damp from the rain that came during antipeak, glisten. The good weather has brought people out in droves, and they throng in the streets. Sigil is yours to explore where you will.

Knowing that time is working against him, Deynann hastens himself between the myriad places he's liable to find himself. Knowing that the Hive was nowhere for a Dey-imposter to go, he seeks out some of the livelier areas of Sigil, and some of the individuals liable to have seen something. He intends on stretching his coin as far as he's able.
The Lower Ward, though filled with the stink of the foundries, is filled to the brim with taverns and ale houses. Many of the people of the city flock to these taverns, which are much easier to afford than those in the other parts of the city. Humans, elves, demons, and devils, and everything in between walk, sit and talk together.

"Hey, Smeth, cutter, you're looking particularly noxious tonight. Must be expecting a lady, hmm?" Dey says, approaching a half-demon bartend with a smile. "When's the last time I saw you... two, three...?" Dey leaves the question open while scanning the chosen house of bub for eyes that might have sought him out.

Smeth looks up from polishing the glasses, and arcs a finely plucked eyebrow. He does return the smile, though. "Months, I'd say," he fills in obligingly. "And no, I don't have a lady this week. Though if you want to make any suggestions..." He trails off, leering.

Most of the crowd doesn't take notice of one more human coming in. One set of eyes, however, fearfully fastens on Deynann. Those eyes belong to a skinny man, dressed like a factory laborer. Once he catches Deynann's attention, though, he moves away, slipping into the crowd.

"Maybe I'll lend you one of the ones that's chasing me," Dey says to Smeth with a sideways wink. "Methinks she's a tax collector, though, so maybe the position of her mouth will depend on the quantity of your money." Dey's return leer is gifted with a slipped piece of jink to the bartend. "Keep up the bad work." Then he's into the sea of faces, wading and pushing through where he sees egress, after the skinny one.

The skinny man hasn't gotten so far away that it would be impossible to follow him, after all, the bar isn't that large. He glances over his shoulder, his solid black eyes betraying his diabolic heritage. "I haven't talked to no one, I promise," he says, clearly attempting to be reassuring to his pursuer. "Jus' like I said. So, no harm, done, right, cutter?" His voice takes a hopeful tone.

Deynann scowls as he nears, fingers interlaced in a relaxed, almost ascetic way before him. "One's heard differently. Someone's needing a good stitching, thinks I. And one thinks that it's bound to be, oh..." His right hand tugs away from its companion, pointing an accusatory finger toward the chest of the devilblood. "So, -friend-," exaggerating the word with a taste of sarcasm. "Let's talk. Privately."

The man's eyes widen, and he looks around the room. "Privately?" He swallows, and leaning closer to Deynann, whispers, "But I know some berk that seen you. He's been tryin to get the chant on you. He didn' get anything from me, though! I knows when to keep my bone-box shut," he says, drawing himself up self righteously. "He's a damned primer, is what he is. Doesn' know how things are supposed to work around here. Comes around here most antipeaks, though he hasn't been round lately."

"SHHHHshshshshshsh." Deynann shakes his head ever-so-faintly, then narrows his eyes and intones, one hand cupping a copper piece carefully.

The man's thoughts: _This can' be happening. This has to be a test, surely, of my loyalty? He promised me that he wouldn' hurt me... Maybe he wants for me to find him another mark._

The thoughts trail, thinking about all of the things that he could do with the money. Most of them include cheap bub, and equally cheap whores.

The man's eyes fix on the copper piece, and he licks his lips. Looking up at Deynann, he shrugs ever-so-slightly, and prepares to follow him. "Jus- don't hurt me," he says. "I'll swear on any power you want me to that I didn' tell /no one./

Once the spell takes effect, the sorcerer hones his concentration on the tielfling. "Mmm. Now, let's be clear about this -- you know what I'm capable of. What is it that you said, and to whom was it said." Deynann's eyes sparkle with as much hidden power as the sorcerer can conjure, which is quite a lot, so he hopes.

The man bites his lower lip in frustration. "I didn' tell no one! Why would I want to hurt our...working relationship?"

His thoughts: _He's looking at me strange. I hope he isn't going to eat my soul too... I shoulda taken my father up on his offer to come and live with him in hell. It's gotta be better than dealing with this sh*t._

"Because everyone has their price..." A smile with lips taut against the ridge of perfect teeth, and Deynann's voice musters as much velvet-covered threat as it can. "What I offer you wasn't good enough, then. And how would you have me... better my offer?"

The man licks his lips again. "B-better your offer? More jink's always good," he says.

His thoughts: _Why's he think that I betrayed him? Is it because I'm half demon? He's offering me more money? Does that mean he wants me to find more of them for him?_ His thoughts race, reviewing names and faces of a number of people, none of them known to Deynann. He dismisses some of them out of hand, _Not powerful enough...too well-connected, risky..._ Others, he thinks about more contemplatively. _Hmm. The magic is powerful enough that it might be worth any risk._

A large, powerful black furred demon, complete with bull horns on an otherwise almost human face (if you ignore the fur, that is) barks at the man, "Ey, get out of my space, berk!" He shakes a heavily muscled fist at him.

"Jink," echoes Deynann with a shrug. "Find me more marks, and you'll have your jink. Twice what you saw before, with potential for greater sums. About this primer..."

The man steps away from the yelling demon nervously, and nods. "I can do it," he said. "Send em to Turtledove Street, like usual? And the primer, he comes here a lot, after antipeak, usually. Doesn't always ask questions about you, but he has been lately. I think his lady was... disappeared. Real recently, if you get my meaning."

His thoughts: _Heh. I didn't like the damned clueless bastard anyway. That'll teach him to horn in on my business._

Aloud, he says, "He's about your height, has reddish hair and a beard. Dresses pretty normal for these parts, but acts like he's got something stuck up his ass. He hasn't been around since Jalek," he says, nodding towards the horned demon, "Tossed him out the door, though."

Jalek, upon hearing his name, turns to look at the factory worker. "You talking bout me, berk? He raises his fist again,looking like he means it this time.

Chuckling from the base of his throat, Deynann ignores the demon and the threat posed to his half-devil accomplice. "Does this primer have... a name?" he asks, licking his lips as if hungry.

Several things happen at once. "Jalek" brings his clawed fists crashing down on the half devil's skull, twice.

One of Jalek's friends, a tall demon not wearing any clothes except for bodypaint, laughs raucously, and picks up the brained half devil, lifting him high into the air. "Eh, Mars, catch!" And with that, the wailing half devil gets propelled across the room, into the arms of a rakshasha, who is grinning down at the little man.

The other patrons, excited, and perhaps even more spirited than usual, given the bright and "sunshiney" day, join into the fray willingly, not really caring who or what they hit, as long as it is violent.

Shaking his head at the demon who spoiled his conversation, Dey steps away from the melee, keeping his head low as he circumvents the combat.

There is the sound of splintering wood, as some of the bar's furniture becomes someone's weaponry. The bartender can be seen standing on top of the bar, gesturing wildly with a barstool. He seems to be yelling, though his words are largely drowned out by the melee. 

Deynann, lifted up by a thick, scaly-armed devil, sags in the cornugon's grasp. "You really wouldn't want to mash me -- I'm an insignificant primer, not worth the effort. However," gesturing with a tip of his head, "there's a small band of demons in there. Heard them talking about the 'big leatherhead of a devil', can only presume they meant you. I think they're probably more of a challenge..." Looking at the distance he's been lifted from the ground, Dey pipes up with a squeaking, mousey voice, "... don't you?"

The devil's eyes glaze over as Dey talks, then flare with a rage that has the unknowable eons of the Blood War behind it. Even in Sigil, such legacies are powerful, and the thought of pasting a pathetic human clueless pales next to bloodying its fists and tail with demonic ichor. Deynann is cast aside, his collision with the wall softened by some imp that'd been cheering on the brawl. Deynann picks himself up, dusts the imp off of him, and leaves the bar as the opportunity presents.


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## Vurt (Jun 11, 2003)

drnuncheon said:
			
		

> *Chuckling from the base of his throat, Deynann ignores the demon and the threat posed to his half-devil accomplice. "Does this primer have... a name?" he asks, licking his lips as if hungry.
> 
> Several things happen at once. "Jalek" brings his clawed fists crashing down on the half devil's skull, twice.
> *




Nice!  Much better than the tried and true: "And just as the informant is about to reveal the name of the bad guy, a shot rings out and a bullet crashes through the nearby window and the informant's brainpan in quick succession."


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## Jarval (Jun 28, 2003)

Bump.  Great story hour, you've got me hooked!


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## drnuncheon (Jul 5, 2003)

Turtledove Street is in one corner of the Market Ward. It is one long
string of bathhouses and spas, generally catering to those that are
well-to-do enough to afford things like that. It is also a hotbed of
semi-circumspect carnal activity, which tends to happen in districts
that survive on getting its patrons naked. No prostitutes linger on the
corners of streets (no sense in offending well-heeled sensibilities) but
it is there to be had for the observant sort.

On the street, no one seems to pay undue attention to one more person.

Deynann keeps his eyes on the windows, looking about as he's walking
down the street. His smile is ready enough, though also lacking enough
to imply a certain degree of inhumanity. He's not a gaper -- he's
someone with a mission.

Some of the bath houses seem to cater to men, some to women, some to
both. Most of the people on Turtledove Street come here with a mission,
though theirs is usually more to receive a massage, soak in the steaming
hot waters, to find a playmate for hire. On a street where carnal
desires reign, no one pays too much attention to someone else's quest
for pleasure.

A very handsome man, no, elf, steps past Deynann, towards one of the
co-ed bath houses. He stops, blinking in surprised. "Haven't seen you in
a few weeks," he comments with a smile. "I was beginning to think that
you didn't like me anymore." He lowers his lashes, peering at the
sorcerer through them, probably intending to be seductive.

Deynann blinks furiously, but catches himself from saying anything, at
least reflexively. "Sometimes, our past catches up to us, wouldn't you
agree," Dey says, and the enigma in his voice is wholly sincere, though
Dey twists it to his own purpose.

The elven man smiles. "Oh, aye, I'll soundly agree to that one," he says
with great feeling. "I'll never forget what you did for me, you know...
dealing with my past like that. So, are you coming in to soak?" He
lowers his lashes again. "Or would you like to go up to your apartment?"

Deynann ponders for a moment, tracing his tongue along the back of his
upper teeth thoughtfully. "If you are free, then I'd choose the latter
well before the former." His voice is tinged with just a hint of
provocation. "And you can thank me more appropriately."

The elf's eyes light up, and he nods. "Very well, then," he says,
stepping through the door into the bathhouse, oddly enough. He looks
over his shoulder to see if the sorcerer is going to follow him inside.
"I still have the key that you gave me."

Once inside building, you find yourself in a tiled foyer, looking into a
large, steaming room through a rounded archway. There is a stack of
towels on a chair, with a janni, of all things, acting as doorguard.
When he sees Deynann and the elf, he smiles broadly. "Ah, we were
beginning to wonder where you were, sir. Will you be bathing, or just
going up to your room?" He holds out a towel, but steps away from a
doorway that seems to lead somewhere other than the steaming room.

Deynann follows the elf into the bathhouse, doing his best to retain an
even demeanor. Seeing the janni, Deynann inclines his head. "My room,
thank you," he murmurs, gesturing that the elf might lead the way. "Have
there been any messages or inquiries?" he asks the janni in passing.


The elf beams, seeming to be grateful at such trust. He starts to move
to the unmarked door, pausing before opening it to let the janni speak.

"No, sir," the janni says, giving Deynann a wink behind the elf's back.
He drops his voice to a whisper, "Jessica still comes and goes from your
room, of course."

Nodding acknowledgement to the janni, Deynann travels after the elf,
onward and upward, all the while ruminating on the details he's been
given.

You go up two flights of stairs. At the top, the elf moves through a
doorway, and into a hall. There are three doors, two on one side, one on
the other. He walks up to the singular door, and opens it with the key.
Stepping inside, he holds the door open with a smile. "I was afraid that
something had happened to you," he confides. "Though I know that you're
capable of defending yourself."

Deynann whispers, "Of course," doing his best to throw in some
hoity-toity noblisse oblige-type overconfidence to his tone. Entering
the room before the elf, as expected, though not necessarily to his
better judgment, he has a spell ready upon his lips, in case he walks
into a trap.

The room that you step into isn't opulent, by any means, but compared to
your Hive dive, it's damned near palatial. Thick white carpets hug the
floors, and the whitewashed walls are draped in woolen tapestries. It's
one room, which has a white recliner and couch set, and a table. A
gardarobe adjoins to the room, as is an open sliding door, which seems
to lead into a room just large enough to fit the double bed into.

Deynann keeps his jaw relaxed but not open, sighing ever-so-faintly. "At
least he has good taste," he murmurs to himself. Moving into the center
of the room, Dey turns about, waiting for the elf to join him.

The elf does so, shutting the door behind him, and locking it. "No sense
in inviting a disturbance," he murmurs, following Deynann across the
room. "I won't ask where you've been, because I know that you are a man
of many secrets. But you aren't... in any trouble, are you?"

Deynann lifts his shoulders a fraction of an inch, then settles them
again. "It would be hard to describe," says Deynann, ambiguous in his
inflection. "Very hard, indeed... but perhaps I can trust you. Can I...
trust you?" Deynann's eyes are cold and hard for a moment, scrutinizing
the elf.

The elf looks startled. "Of-of course, my love," he says. "You have my
eternal gratitude for helping me out with my little problem. I would be
willing to die for you, if it came to that."

Deynann frowns. "Promise that you'll hear the whole story. Promise that
you'll repeat it to no one." He speaks with passion, and yet, with
imploring.

The elf's eyes widen, and he sits down on the couch. "Of course. I
promise, on both counts," he says.

Deynann nods in agreement. "I have found that... my identity has been
assumed, by another. This other has been performing horrible deeds in my
name." He looks toward a plain, white section of wall, eyes focused
there as if he could burn his way out through. "Murders. And worse."

The elf frowns, and then bites his lower lip. "That's... terrible. We
will have to find a way to stop that, of course," he says. "I've gotten
my spellbooks back, thanks to you. If you'd like, I can study some of
the more combat oriented ones. But," he hesitates. "We'd have to go
together, so that I'd know that I wasn't killing the real you."

Deynann nods a little, biting his lip. "Here's the catch -- I'm not the
one you're familiar with." His arms relax to his sides, but now, he
watches the elf with sharp interest, hoping that his eloquence and
honesty will serve in lieu of magic.

The elf scowls, his effeminate creatures looking, very briefly, fierce
and protective. They smooth out again, though, and he studies Deynann.
"I thought that you had behaved differently," he said. "You're being
nicer than you usually are to me." He looks torn, and then finally
sighs, sinking deeper into the couch. "I knew some of the stuff that
you...he was doing. I did not want to betray you, but I knew that what
you did was morally wrong." Looking up, searching your face, he says,
anxiously, hopefully, "You don't believe in that sort of violence?"

Dey sighs, then looks earnestly at the elf. "It must hurt to know
this... and for that I'm sorry. I do not enjoy deceiving, which is why I
feel that you must know the truth. The problem also lies in that I
haven't -been- in Sigil for... a very long time. So what this imposter
has done in my name is only now reaching my ears. Please," Dey says
softly, gently. "I will not ask you to hurt the one you... have these
feelings for. I do want you to recognize that whatever it is, it is a
murderous, soul-devouring, magic-stealing abomination. Perhaps there's
more than one, I don't know. I do know that I need to stop it, so that
my name and my history become my own. I will repay you, if I can." Dey
bows his head, vulnerable and even somewhat sorrowful.

The elf sighs, and closes his eyes. "I begin to think that I was in love
with an illusion," he says, his voice pained. He opens his eyes again.
"I know that you, he... it, whatever in hell it was, is hunting a woman
named Merilee. She's a sorceress that got away. He wants to track her
down and destroy her as soon as possible. I can describe her to you, if
you'd like... I feel like I'm betraying ... him, but I have not been
resting well, knowing that the woman was going to be murdered, just for
being what she was. Maybe I can put my conscience to rest, finally.

Deynann breathes deeply, as if drinking in the knowledge. "It sounds
like Alter-Me was not a very nice person. I encountered a man, once a
sorcerer, who had come to kill me for stealing his knowledge of magic
from him. It took quite some talking to get this man to understand that
I was not the one he sought. This other has had quite the amount of
shady dealings in my absence. What else can you tell me about him...
it?"

The elf sighs. "Shady dealings... yes. Yes. He kills sorcerers. I don't
know how exactly he does it, but he pulls magical energy out of them.
He... we met when he killed the sorcerer that was keeping me hostage."
The elf sighed, and then spoke again, his voice bitter. "I suppose that
he thought that I was a cute enough pet, and decided to keep me around."
He went on, "Most of the sorcs that he drains die, because they have
nothing to defend themselves with. A few, that aren't pure sorcerer,
seem to be able to carry on and not be killed by those out on the
streets. It sounds like you met one of those. Merilee was able to escape
as well, but that was because she was able to flee...to a public area.
She still lives, and ...it... wants her dead."

Deynann listens to the elf with total attention. "I understand. Do you
know what his true form appears like? You spoke of how he is able to
'handle himself'... is he a spellcaster?"

The elf shakes his head. "I have only seen him looking like you.
Though... he has some dresses and makeup in there," he says, gesturing
towards the bedroom. "I try to pretend like I don't notice." He adds,
"And yes, I believe that he's a sorcerer as well. At least, I've never
seen him studying a spellbook. His magic has a strange taste to it,
though. I can't quite put my finger on it."

Deynann glances to the closet, blinking. "He's probably a natural
shapeshifter of some sort, then. This is likely one of his abodes, and
he's likely in another form, which would explain his prolonged absence.
It would be too much to hope that something had already written him in
the book." Tip of his tongue caught between his lips while he
contemplates, Dey asks further, "The janni has mentioned a Jessica.
Could you tell me about her? Also, tell me about Marilee."

The elf blinks. "You don't know my name, I suppose. It's Mikael. And...
Jessica is one of his alter-egos. The doorman thinks that she is his
lover." He blushes, and looks away. "As for Merilee... she is a
sorcereress, of decent ability. I don't know much about her, other than
she was able to escape. And that she isn't purely human, but is
celestial in some form or another. He mentioned long, purple hair as
well."

Deynann shuts his eyes. "I'm sorry... I'm very intent on learning about
this creature. Truly, I meant nothing by not asking your name, Mikael. I
want you to know that your assistance is far beyond what I could have
achieved on my own, and I hope that your conscience will soon be at
rest. I will do what I can to keep you safe from this thing... for your
safety, it's best that you give me the key to this apartment."

Mikael sighs. "Yes, perhaps that should be for the best," he says. He
rises to his feet, and brings the key over to you. "Be... very careful,"
says Mikael. "I do not want for there to be another life on my
conscience. If you have need of me, I will be down at the Green Mill. I
think that I will be safer there, than here."

"When it is all over, I will let you know. You will know me by this,"
Dey opens his satchel, producing an elegantly crafted signet ring. He
offers it to the elf for study, then holds out his palm to accept it
back. "That is not something that is so easily duplicated as a face.
Once all is done, I will endeavor to give you some payment... for the
life that he's stolen from you, from us."

Mikael studies the signet ring, and then nods. His eyes are sad, but
calm, and he regards the sorcerer, as if memorizing every detail of his
face. "May luck travel with you," he says, in the fluid, beautiful elven
language.

"And you," Deynann replies, not needing his agal to assist him in the
remembered elven tongue. "You have done a tremendous good, and I will
make the best use of it. Farewell, Mikael."


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## drnuncheon (Jul 20, 2003)

It is an unusually bright and cheery day in Sigil. Though the place seems to lack a definable sun,
there are no rain clouds. The cobblestone streets glisten with moisture from last night's rain, and the
air has a fresh and clean smell to it.

Ailsa can be seen, several yards away, sitting on a stone bench. She is chatting with a man that
doesn't look /quite/ human, but is almost so. He is dressed like a nobleman.

Kraydn, quite lost, wanders the streets of the Market Ward, not far away at all. "Where the blazes is
Dey?" he grumbles. "Or for that matter, /anyone/?" He cranes himself up, feeling even shorter than
usual amidst the lanky forms of the city's inhabitants.

Sulemein slips through the streets with a bundle under his arm - a loaf of bread can be seen sticking
out. He pauses for a well known street urchin and flips her a second loaf of bread and wedge of cheese.
"You be certain to share this, alright?" He hardly waits to hear the usual thanks, though he does
glimpse the radiant smile as he departs.

"Excuse me, this one wonders if you could direct him - well, 'sod off' to that one as well, 'berk'."
Kraydn sighs, peering upwards at the arch of the city above him, as if he would use it to navigate like
stars on the ocean. "It must be around here _somewhere_, this one hasn't gone far." Catching a
glimpse of a familiar creature, he begins pushing his way towards it. "Su - Sulemein? Hallo! Sulemein?"

Sulemein's face splits into a smile, the rare light shining off his bare scalp. "Ah... friend Kraydn.
Are you enjoying this lovely day?" He dodges a rather large, nasty looking eight-legged beast and
stands before Kraydn.

"This place is bewildering," Kraydn confides in the young monk. "This one took a shortcut down an
alley, to try to get to the Market, and when he turned around, these tall floating fellows were
building a wall across it. This one tried to get them to tell me how to get back, but they just made
funny little pictures in the air."

Sulemein nods slowly, "Ah, yes... those called 'Dabus'. The Lady's caretakers for Sigil... Few possess
the ability to understand them. Shall I show you the path to the Market?"

"No, no, this one /found/ the Market. It's that one's home that he's lost."

Sulemein laughs softly. "Ah... I understand. Come, friend. Let us return you then." With that, the monk
turns down yet another twisting alleyway.

Kraydn follows, grumbling. "This one doesn't know why they had to build a wall across /his/
shortcut..."

Sulemein laughs softly again. "None have yet discerned why they do what they do. Sigil tells them what
must be built, what must be torn down, what must be altered..." He shrugs his free shoulder lightly,
"One must simply learn and live and adapt..." He pauses, pointing up to the corner of a building,
surreptitiously, and speaking quietly, "Look there, friend... Do you see that?" The monk points to a
curiously squiggled marking, almost invisible unless one knows where to look.

Kraydn says, "Eh? That squiggle? What of it?"

* * * * *

Syova appears from around a corner, craning his neck this way and that. He extends an arm to point
something out to...nobody? The movement of his mouth indicates he's talking to somebody at least, if
not himself. He gestures at a number of other things before his arm falls back to loiter in its usual
place.

Ailsa glances up from her spot on the bench, and waves to Syova. "Hey," she calls out. "Over here,
Syova!" The noble sitting beside her looks startled, and glances up to the paladin with a scowl.

Having more of a defined direction to head in, Syova alters his course as needed. The crowd seems
willing and happy enough to let the man pass without incident and he's able to close the distance
separating him and Ailsa quicly enough.

"I still believe we would have bested those fiends, Sir Knight! There were but eight of them! A scant
challenge for those of our stature. But yes! Of course! Such a battle would have been quite unfair and
so you allowed their insults to go unanswered! Such compassion! Such generosity! Well done, Sir!"

Syova absently mutters, "Yes, thank you Bors." He greets Ailsa with a smile, "Good morning to you
priestess."

Ailsa grins up at Syova. "Syova, meet my new acquaintence, Lord Derek of Sanneth. Derek," she says,
"This is my friend Syova, a paladin. He and I have had some adventures together."

Lord Derek inclines his head stiffly to the paladin. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he says.

Syova inclines his head politely, "Hello to you, Lord Derek."

As soon as Sulemein and Kraydn come into sight, Ailsa waves to them as well. "Kraydn, Sulemein!" she
calls out. "You can meet my friend Sulemein, and my husband, Kraydn, as well," she tells Lord Derek in
an undertone.

Lord Derek looks less than pleased for some reason, and rises to his feet. "Unfortunately, dear lady,"
he says while giving her a half bow, "Business takes me elsewhere in the city. Perhaps, at another
time. Until then, I will consider your words. Yours must be a very...fascinating goddess."

Kraydn looks over, distracted from his host's tour by Ailsa's words. His eyes catch the well-dressed
almost-human standing next to his wife, and a brief scowl crosses his face. One hand touches the
leather scabbard of his blade lightly, but he forces a grin and a wave - which becomes rapidly more
genuine as the interloper moves away.

Sulemein does not acknowledge Ailsa as yet, while he conducts his little lesson, "There are such
markings all over this city. Those not of the city do not realize their importance. They are many
things. Markings to depict locations, directions..."

"Um, yes, markings. This one sees his wife, Sulemein..." Kraydn is already moving through the crowds
towards the tall woman. "Darling! That one won't believe what happened on the way to the Market this
morning..."

Syova takes a step to one side, moving out of Derek's way.

Sulemein lifts a shoulder in resignation, though he is unsurprised that the lesson may have been lost.
Such is the way of Kraydn. He turns with the groceries and follows. and inclines his head to the
departing noble.

Lord Derek gives Syova another nod, and then strides quickly through the crowd, in the direction
opposite from the one that Kraydn arrives.

Ailsa looks up at Kraydn, and Sulemein behind him. She then looks beyond the two, and calls out,
"Deynann! There you are!"

"Who was that fellow?" Kraydn asks, peering with narrowed eyes after the departing Lord Derek. "And
Dey? Where? This one is still wondering why he wouldn't show us where he lived..."

Dey, walking through the Market with a strange, organic-looking, semi-spherical, chartreuse-ish thing
in one hand, turns his head rapidly at the sound of his name. Brushing some of his hair from his eyes,
he half-waves toward the group, though his feet are still taking him in the same direction.

Sulemein slides the bag from his shoulder so it dangles before him as he turns to observe Deynann's
approach. He looks at the 'thing' curiously.

Kraydn begins pushing through the crowds. "Dey! Where is that one going in such a hurry? We need to
talk about the-" He realizes that he's shouting this across the busy Market, and stops. "-the thing,
Dey!" He waves his hands in a complicated set of gestures that do nothing to convey any actual
information to one who is not capable of reading the Vhal's brain.

Syova blinks curiously at Kraydn's antics. Performance art now? Always full of surprises, that one.

Slowing, Dey swings a low arc toward Ailsa, head tilting to one side in his puppy-ish way. "Couldn't
ask for a better day from the Lady, could we?" he says brightly, though still some distance away.

Kraydn makes it through the crowds and drapes an arm over his brother's shoulders, steering him towards
the others. "Come on, Dey. We've got to talk about the," - he leans in close - "thing that's pretending
to be you," he mutters. Then, louder, "And that one needs to tell me more about these 'day-buss'. Do
they just go about building walls wherever they please?"

Ailsa blinks at Deynann, and then chuckles. "Ah. You're referring to the Lady of /this/ city. You
surprised me there for a moment, Dey." She glances around at the group. "Speaking of the Lady," she
says, with a sigh, "I'm not going to be allowed to go home."

Sulemein blinks as he looks at Ailsa, "You will not be allowed home, friend Ailsa?"

Deynann nods at Ailsa's comment, "I'm sorry to hear that," he murmurs, attempting to console her.
Looking up at Kraydn, he blinks twice, asking, "Oh? Did you learn something?"

Ailsa shrugs, and shakes her head. "During my prayer time this morning, Lianna told me, in no uncertain
terms," Ailsa says with a wince, "That I am required to be here. So... here I will stay."

Sulemein's fine brow quirks slightly as he studies the sorcerous envoy. "Come, friend," says he,
speaking softly into Deynann's ear. "I have some salve, should you desire it, lest you become
infected..."

"Hmmm," says Deynann, nodding to Sulemein. "That would be appreciated, friend." He winces as he touches
his aggrieved side, as if in example.

"...and they'd just built this wall, right across the alleyway," Kraydn continues, blithely ignorant. 
"Dey? What kind of fish is that?"  Distracted, he peers across the crowds. "That ifrit has it on a
leash..."

Sulemein's head slowly swivels as he watches Deynann a moment, then nods. "As you wish, friend. Shall
we go inside, that you might have... privacy?" (He says it as 'prih-vass-ee')

Syova continues to wallow in his own apparent ignorance of something or other (though not as blithely
as Kraydn).

Deynann clears his throat, "Well... it's really not so serious. I should be able to make do, but thank
you." Smiling at Sulemein, he then steps back. "I was just on my way to an appointment, I shouldn't be
long. Maybe we could share a dinner, later."

Ailsa looks a little surprised, but nods to Deynann. "Well, alright," she says. "I could heal you, as
well," she says. "I've gotten even better at healing. I think it's by practicing on Kraydn," she says,
with a wink.

Sulemein nods knowingly, "As you say, friend..." Then, "Of course, friend. Supper would be pleasant. We
may dine here, or take your family out." He adds, "And friend Syova, as well."

Syova brightens and he beams at the monk and the sorcerer in turn. "Of course. I would enjoy that."

"But, Dey," Kraydn protests as his brother pulls away, "What about the imposter? That one said he was
going to go looking, did he find anything out?"

"Nothing yet," Dey replies to Kray's question. "I'm on my way to an appointment which should be a
little more promising. Dinner... where? And when?" Another pace backwards.

Ailsa glances over at Sulemein, and then back to Deynann. She shrugs with one shoulder. "I would be
perfectly content eating at that open air place that we were at yesterday, if everyone else is up for
it," she says. "As for time... early evening?"

"Why doesn't this one go with you, that one can show him some of the city," Kraydn suggests. "Lianna's
t-ts, Dey, this one hasn't seen his brother in five years, and now he keeps running off at every
opportunity!" The younger Vhal's stubby finger waves as he makes his point. "Mother and Father would be
most upset if they knew this one was just abandoning you...besides," he mutters, "that one needs to
remember how _proper_ Vhal speak."

Deynann smiles and nods at Ailsa's suggestion, "Sounds right as rain," he replies, then looks
querulously to Kraydn. "You know how busy I am. I'm sorry, but... I really must be going." He tosses
the chartreuse thing in the air, catching it on its way back down. "Tonight, then. I'll let you know
what I've discovered." A smile, his unoccupied hand pulling some of his hair back behind his ear, and
he turns and walks away, a little less casual in his stride than before.

Ailsa watches Deynann go, a frown marring her pretty features. "I suppose that I'd be a little uptight,
if someone was trying to pass himself off as me," she says. "Maybe he'll calm down after we get rid of
the imposter."

Kraydn frowns, and the little Vhal seems to deflate slightly, with a sigh. "This one is worried about
his brother," he says to the others. "Something's happened to him. He's changed so much from the way he
used to be."

Syova turns to Kraydn as his brother vanishes back into the crowd. "How would one recognize
this...other? How does he, it, differ from Deynann there?"

Ailsa looks up at Syova, starts to speak, and then closes her mouth again. After a couple of moments,
she says quietly, "We might not be able to." She looks back into the crowd, where Deynann had
disappeared.

Kraydn looks at Sulemein. "Su? That one's seen more of Dey recently than any of us..."

Syova mms. "I imagine that may have been it, hmm? Deynann has always been very sociable."

A woman with long, purple hair steps through the crowd, standing several feet away from the group. Her
features are mostly human, though there seems to be some celestial blood intermixed. "Psst," she says,
to get their attention, before stepping up. "I didn't want to interrupt anything private that you have
to say to each other, but I _must_ talk to you."

Sulemein starts to reply to Kraydn, but is interrupted by the new arrival. His brow lifts, then he bows
slightly. "Perhaps you would prefer to speak within," he gestures to his abode/office.

The woman studies Sulemein for a moment, appraisingly, and then nods. She glances questioningly at the
rest of them, before saying, apologetically. "If you don't mind? It is terribly important."

Kraydn frowns, leaning closer to his wife. "We'd better be careful," he says. "If it can look like Dey,
maybe it can look like anyone!"

Sulemein nods once and turns to open the door. He stands by, to allow the others entry.

Ailsa looks at Kraydn and nods to him. She turns to look at Merilee, and says, "I believe that we can
talk to you," she says, cautiously. "Sulemein, do you care to lead the way?"

Sulemein stands by the open door, and nods to Ailsa as he enters. A chandelier of torches lies high
above, and when a cord is pulled a cover is raised, to bathe the room in light.

The purple haired woman follows the group inside, nodding. "My name is Merilee," she says,
informatively. "I assure you that I come to you with only the purest of motives. Which might be
difficult to believe, in this festering hellhole, but please try to give me the benefit of the doubt."

Kraydn peers at her suspiciously.

Sulemein, having somehow known her name was Merille, inclines his head as he offers her a seat on one
of the several mismatched pieces of furniture. "I am called Sulemein."

Merilee sits, gingerly, on one of the chairs. She nods to Sulemein, and looks to the others
questioningly.

Ailsa obligingly fills in, "I'm Ailsa. This is my husband Kraydn, and our paladin friend's name is
Syova."

Syova smiles for the second or third time today and finds a comfortable place to stand, "Hello to you."

Merilee nods all around, and then sighs. "I wanted to warn you away from the man that you were just
talking to. He is a menace, pure and simple. Are... any of you sorcerers?"

Sulemein allows a negative shake of his head. "No sorcerers, are we..."

"A menace?!" Kraydn explodes. "That man is this one's brother! He's no menace! He-" A thought seems to
strike Kraydn with the force of a hangover. "Oh. The imposter!"

Merilee looks startled at Kraydn's outburst. "Your... brother? An imposter? It seems that I've stumbled
onto something here," she comments wryly. "Maybe I should tell you why I know the person is a menace.
You see," she says, "I am a sorcerer. He caught me one night, on a little-used street."

Ailsa frowns, but nods for the woman to continue.

"This bears a rather disturbing similarity to the other fellow's tale..." Kraydn mutters. "Let this one
guess...he took away that one's magic?""

A loud sniff. "And now lewd and indecent stories. I could have told you she'd be trouble."

"Bors, please."

Sulemein listens quietly as he closes the door to the outside. "On what occasion did this occur,
friend?"

Merilee continues. "I was able to break free, but it wasn't without considerable effort. He is stronger
than any man I know, and more dextrous, and his skin was like stone -- she stops, looking down at
Syova's waist for a moment, and then looks back up at him. "Hmm," she says, bemusedly. "Umm... anyway.
I cast a haste spell on myself, and ran. He cast haste on himself as well, but I ran out onto a public
street, right into the chest of an angelic being. There were a lot of people around, and the magic
stealer must not have wanted to chance a public confrontation, or was at least afraid of the angel."

Sulemein repeats his question quietly, from the door, "When did this incident occur, friend Merilee?"

"It couldn't have been Dey," Kraydn says firmly. "This one loves his brother, but 'stronger than any
man I know' he's not. Not even with magic." He tugs on his beard, then adds, "Too, Deynann has never
been known to try to steal magic from others."

Merilee coughs, looking up at Sulemein. "I'm sorry," she says, her cheeks staining red. "I did not mean
to ignore you. I think that I'm a little overwrought. It happened... two weeks, no two and a half weeks
ago. And he's been hunting me ever since."

"Splendid!" Kraydn says brightly. "Then all we need to do is wait for the false Deynann to come get
you!"

Sulemein frowns at Kraydn as he goes to a sideboard, and pours a glass of clear water. This he takes to
Merilee, "Friend Deynann has told us of his lengthy absence from this city for some months..."

"An excellent plan! Well said, good Kraydn! And then we will set wrongs to right and bring this
creature to justice!"

Syova considers this before he displays his by-now perfected maneuver as he nods and agrees with his
sword. "If her safety might be assured, Kraydn's suggestion isn't a poor one."

Merilee looks pained, but says, "If that is what it takes to catch the bastard, then I will volunteer
myself as bait." She hesitates, and then says, "So you're telling me that there is someone else in this
city that looks like this soul stealing person, and that he's a nice person, and that he hasn't even
been in the city recently?" She shakes her head, studying Sulemein. "I do not sense that you are
playing a cruel joke on me, but you must admit that it's rather difficult to believe..."

Kraydn looks rather startled as his plan is accepted, and then pleased. "Well then! This one can assure
you," he tells the woman, "that his elder brother is no sort of soul eating monster."

Sulemein murmurs softly to Merilee, "You appear to be no stranger in this strange land, friend... Have
you never seen anything odder still?"

Merilee gnaws on her lower lip. "You do have a very valid point," she says. "This is a very strange
land. Alright," she says. "I'll be the bait. How else should this plan go?"

Sulemein inquires of the celstially descended one, "Is there a pattern that you have discerned, in your
hunter's attacks?"

Merilee considers. "I have actually only seen it go after me. But it waited until I was alone, so that
it could ambush me. It came as a complete surprise, and I was almost not able to escape... I think that
it won't attack unless the odds appear to be very much in its favor."

Kraydn hmms. "Perhaps these ones could conceal themselves, while that one tried to, er, attract its
attention."

Sulemein nods slowly, considering. "Perhaps I might prove able to shadow her, unseen and unheard..."

Syova expands on the idea further. "If it hunts by sight, perhaps Kraydn might disguise himself as this
lady. It would keep her further from any danger."

Ailsa laughs out loud, and then suddenly realizes that Syova is serious.

Kraydn looks at the tall, slender woman, and then at his own stocky form. "This one is not certain the
false Deynann would be fooled..."

Syova cocks his head and makes some pantomime with his hands, "There are...spells. Yes?"

Kraydn snorts.  "Deynann's the spellcaster of the family, Syova, that one knows that."

Sulemein shakes his head slowly, "It is more likely that this creature is able to track by scent...
perhaps sorcerous scent, and knows her taste now..."

Merilee grins, looking Kraydn over from head to toe. "Perhaps, though I'm no mewling kitten to protect.
I think if I have some back-up, I will stand a higher chance of being able to protect myself. I would
recommend very highly enchanted weapons...it will be hard to damage it."

Sulemein flexes each hand slowly, causing them to elicit a crackling sound. "I am prepared in that
regard..."

Kraydn grins like the sea-wolf he is, and pats the elven rapier at his side. "Oh, yes, we are more than
prepared."

"Have no fear, good lady! We will win the day!"

Syova pats the sword's hilt, "Hopfully, Bors. Hopfully."

Merilee eyes Syova again, but then looks away. "So. We lure it into a trap, and beat on it until it
dies. You seem to be content with the magical nature of your weapons... I'm trying to think if I'm
forgetting anything."

An eyeblink is the distinction between a not-there and a there. In this case, the 'there' is that
represented by a very Dey-like form, complete with eyeblinking and pushing back of hair while he
gathers his surroundings. The 'not-there' having been a low table, which Dey now stands upon. Upon
noticing Kray, Dey immediately starts to speak in excited tones, "Kray! Ailsa! I found out more about
the thing!" He's smiling, quite pleased with himself, until a nagging reminder about this whole
appearing act sinks in. "Oh. Um, hello." The purple-haired woman takes him aback, enough that he steps
off the table, and not realizing that he'd not been standing on the floor, falls over quite heels over
head.

Ailsa stares at the new Deynann, quite astounded.

"Gaaah! It's come for her already!" Kraydn springs back, forgetting the effect of his magical
boots...and ring. As Deynann crashes to the ground, he crashes to the ceiling. And then to the ground.

Merilee gasps, and backs up against the wall. Her hands go up into position to begin casting a spell,
though she hesitates when she sees the sorcerer fall.

"There it is! Attack! To arms! To arms! We go to war!"

Syova quietly rubs his eyes.

Deynann rights himself, looking at the other sorceress and, instinctively, preparing a counterspell.
When she hesitates, so does he. "... Merilee?" he hazards.

Sulemein is apparently used to these sudden surprise visits from Deynann, given the nature of their
relationship these past years. Sulemein notes to himself, Besides... this is Sigil, the land of
insanity.

The sorceress narrows her eyes, ignoring the Kraydn ping-pong effect for the moment. "I have just been
talking with this group of people that is trying, very earnestly, to convince me that you're not who I
think you are," she says. "And I want so desperately to believe them. But how do you know my name?"

Kraydn sits up, rubbing his head. "Ouch."

Sulemein interposes himself between sorcerers, "No sorceries in my home, if you please..."

"Ah... heh." Deynann forces his hands to his sides, standing up and cautiously stepping forward,
offering a hand to the woman. "A pleasure," he says, inclining his head. "Oh, -that-. Well. Let's just
say, two can use the same face in reverse directions, yes?" A wry grin, one that was perhaps
considerably more rare on the other-Dey than on this one. "I've heard about you. You were the 'one that
got away'. I think there was a considerable amount of malice associated with that thought, however."
Looking back at Sulemein, he nods. "Except for the entry... I understand. I won't annihilate your
living space today. Oh, my -manners-." A bow to the woman, in true Vhal fashion. "Deynann ibn Tayyar,
the nice one."

Sulemein nods in appreciation to Deynann, "I do not mind your entry, friend Deynann - that I have grown
accustomed to, though your landing requires greater practice..."

Merilee relaxes a little bit, and nods to Sulemein. "You have my word." She looks over at Deynann then,
and steps towards him. "Merilee of Misty Vale, the only one. I hope," she adds, nervously, taking his
offered hand. "I apologize for my suspicion, and hope that you understand my reasoning." She glances at
Kraydn. "I was just telling these people that you were a menace, and to avoid you, when I saw them
talking to you out on the street this morning."

Still rubbing his head, Kraydn asks, "Did that one have his appointment, then? And what was that green
thing anyway?"

"... ah. Well, let it be known that it was me only in appearance. I haven't seen these people since...
yesterday." Dey shrugs, then smiles to Marilee. "I understand your suspicion, and I'm sympathetic. I
can also see why he'd choose you... well, aside from the bit about being a sorceress." A wry grin as he
looks back to the rest of his companions. "I also know of one of his abodes. And another of his --
well, its -- forms. I had a run-in with a couple of its associates, acquaintances, lovers...
whichever."

"But we set her straight," Kraydn adds. "And she's going to help us find the false you, since it's
trying to suck out her magic...soul...whatever. It tried to do it before, so all we have to do is wait
for it to try again, and we've got it!" Then Dey's words seem to penetrate. "Wait...that one didn't
speak to us this morning?"

Sulemein frowns at that and moves to Deynann. He studies the man closely. "Open your tunic please,
friend..."

Ailsa arches a brow. "It sounds like this imposter has an interesting life, anyway," she comments,
archly.

Deynann looks at Sulemein, "Look, I already had one man propose me, earlier. I'll be honest, Sulemein
-- I prefer ones with hair."

Sulemein frowns, "Please do so, friend Deynann..." It sounds less of a request, than one of suspicion.

"Dey," Kraydn says, "this one didn't say anything when that one started up with an ifrit, but..." He
searches for the words. "It's one thing when someone's at sea, and there aren't any women around,
but..."

Ailsa elbows Kraydn in the ribs.

Kraydn oofs, but does not shut up. "Mother and father want grandchildren!" he protests.

Deynann shrugs a little, opening his tunic modestly. "Kray, before you start in... the female gender is
infinitely preferable. And I don't need to hear any more of your sea-m... sailor stories."

Sulemein nods perfunctorily as he studies the sorcerer's side, and touches the flesh there.
"Curious..." he remarks, then pulls out a small, sharp knife. "Friend Deynann, we encountered one with
your appearance less than one hour previous, and I witnessed wounds that healed as I watched... Your
hand, if you please...?"

Kraydn scowls, and pushes his way across the room towards Dey and Su. "Wait a moment, that one's not
going to be slicing this one's brother up!"

Sulemein looks now to Kraydn, "When we encountered your brother earlier this day, he seemed not to know
of us. I also witnessed wounds on his side - wounds that healed as I observed them."

"I think that if we're looking to verify my identity, no blood needs be shed over it," Dey says, eyeing
the knife. "I still owe you an enchantment on those rings, for example."

Merilee watches the interaction with a certain amount of bewilderment, and then says, "We were thinking
that we would try to lure it into a trap. It wants me. It probably wants you, if it knows you're back
and can blow its cover. And then we kill it." She tries, and fails, to sound nonchalant about it.

Deynann nods to Merilee, "I'm hoping that it will pay a visit to its abode tonight. At least, the abode
that I hope it's using."

Ailsa considers. "Why is it that we didn't get any treasure when we all went out after the Queen's
Star?" Her words are obviously meant as a test of some sort.

Kraydn opens his mouth to correct Ailsa, then closes it as he catches on.

Deynann smirks at Ailsa. "Funny. I haven't heard of the Queen's Star, myself."

"And who did this one catch his brother smooching behind the well-house when he should have been
fetching water for the bath?" Kraydn crosses his arms triumphantly.

Deynann coughs at Kray. "Which time?"

Ailsa breathes a sigh of relief. "It's good to see you, Deynann." She looks over at Merilee. "Don't
worry. We won't allow anyone's soul to be sucked."

Sulemein murmurs softly, "Unless this creature has the capacity to read one's mind for the proper
responses, as does a Doppelganger..."

"Ooh. This one hadn't considered that. Perhaps we should ask it questions that only Dey would know the
answers to...that is, ones that we don't...no, that wouldn't work." Kraydn scowls, deep in thought.

Ailsa grumbles. "I think that what we've discovered will convince me. I don't want to succumb to
absolute paranoia... Besides, it didn't do so well this morning, so I'm guessing that it doesn't have
that ability."

Her husband turns to look at her. "What does that one mean? It did a damned good job of being Deynann
this morning. This one was entirely taken in!"

Sulemein studies Deynann for a moment, then nods slowly. "Very well, friend Deynann... Yet we must
somehow mark you, then, that we might know you from the other."

Deynann adds, "It's got more than my identity. I think it wants you more than it wants me. It's got an
ego problem, you see." Looking to Sulemein, he produces a signet ring from his satchel. "Will this do?"
He jams it onto his right hand's ring finger.

Sulemein nods as he studies the man, "The ring may suffice..."

Merilee leans over, and whispers to Syova, "Are they always like this?"

Syova nods and agrees.

"There are any number of ways to prove that I am who I say I am. I don't think it knew me at all --
probably just saw my face at one point or another. One just has to decide when to be satisfied, that I
am who I say I am." Deynann shrugs at the questions, then looks to Merilee. "With the rage this thing
feels for you, no doubt it would have already attempted to teleport away with you."

Merilee nods. "Yes. It is angry that I had the audacity to not allow my soul to be sucked," she says.
"Silly me."

Sulemein looks thoughtful, "I should wonder if it would actually keep our dinner engagement this
evening..." He shakes his head.

Deynann eyes Kray. "Kray, what do you mean, it... fooled you?"  He blinks even further. "Dinner
engagement?"

Ailsa hehs. "Yeah... we invited it to dinner tonight. Thinking it was you, of course. Thinking it was
you that was acting strangely because you were being impersonated by this thing."

"This one thought it was you." The shorter Vhal's dark skin flushes as he admits it. "It was walking
down the street, and it said it had an appointment." His eyes widen. "Oh no...Dey, this one told it
that we were looking for an imposter! It knows we're onto it!"

Peering at Kraydn, Dey slowly asks, "You... did... what?"

"Well, this one thought it was that one!" Kraydn protests. "If it looks like that one, how is this one
supposed to know it's not that one? And now it looks like someone else, too? This one's head is
beginning to ache."

"I think it's a natural shapeshifter, yes," Dey says, then adds, "Kray... don't worry about it. I
wasn't sure you were you when you and Ailsa appeared... and you had somehow known about magic being
cast on you. Speaking of which..." His head tilts, "How -did- you know that?"

Kraydn frowns. "Well, it's not like nobody's ever cast spells on this one before..."

"Mmmhmm," Dey says, unconvinced. "An invisible sorcerer of, might I add, not inconsiderable skill.
Casting an otherwise undetectable spell with no visible effects."

Merilee breaks in, realizing that to be heard, she is going to have to interrupt someone. "Deynann. You
said that you know one of its bolt holes? Are you planning on us lying in wait for it there, then?"

Deynann nods to Marilee. "I informed the doorman not to mention my presence. Thinking that I was it,
and thinking that its alternate appearance was its me-appearance's lover, it agreed not to say a word.
I studied the place well enough to teleport all of us there, to lie in wait. We need not to kill it,
though -- only it knows everything that it's done."

Merilee looks a little confused at Deynann's explanation, but slowly sifts through it, and then finally
nods. "That sounds like a workable plan to me."

Deynann scrutinizes his brother a little further, then shrugs, turning back to Marilee. "You like my
idea? It seemed rather appropriate, even poetic."

Merilee grins, an almost feral gleam in her eyes. "I find it very appropriate. And yes, even poetic...
when do you think we should lie in wait? Tonight?"

Deynann grins at Marilee. "I thought you might enjoy it. Yes, tonight... though there's no telling how
soon it might arrive. It left some belongings there, so I imagine it felt like the place was either
completely secret or disposable. Hopefully not the latter, but since it left some 'magic make-up'
there, I think it's likely the former."

Ailsa cracks her knuckles. "Well, given that we're in a strange place, surrounded by all manner of
strange creatures, I have prayed for some of my more violent spells."

Merilee arches an eyebrow. "Magic makeup. I... see." She looks around at the group, and says, "Well and
good then. What do we do until then?"

Deynann nods to Ailsa. "I think my role will be best served by preparing countermagic, in case it's
more formidable as a sorcerer than we might have expected. It would leave us back at the beginning if
it had an opportunity to teleport away."

Sulemein nods slowly as he considers, "I believe it likely our best opportunity, yes..."

Ailsa frowns at that thought. "Yes, we wouldn't want it to do that. It needs to be finished." She
considers, and then adds, "You and Merilee both should be as careful as you can be, since it sounds
like you're her primary targets.

Kraydn nods. "That's right...stay behind Syova and I. This one, at least, hasn't got any magic for it
to steal."

Deynann shakes his head. "Don't kill it... not immediately. We need a chance to interrogate it."

Sulemein lifts his hands, "I shall fight to subdue, then..." He looks to Deynann, "Perhaps you have the
sorceries to prevent its scape, in fashion similar to the means employed to bring you here this
evening?"

Deynann sighs, and nods in agreement with Merilee. "If possible, I'd like to see if we can't 'return'
what magic it's stolen to its victims."

Merilee's shoulders sag, and she nods. "I would too," she says softly, "Since it took some of mine. I
can't cast as powerful spells as I could before my encounter with it."

Kraydn frowns. "Bah, might as well hit it with a fish. If this thing heals as fast as that one said,
we'll need to do everything we can to keep it down."

Deynann grins at his brother. "If given some time to prepare, we won't be the only ones fighting it.
Not by a long shot."

Kraydn says, "Then let's get to it."


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## Vurt (Jul 21, 2003)

Very cool, Doc.  But someone needs to tell Deynann and Co. the story of the jongleur and the calzone.

Also, does the player of Deynann get to play the imposter as well when the real one isn't present?  How is that being worked so that it's not a dead giveaway?


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## drnuncheon (Jul 21, 2003)

Vurt said:
			
		

> *Very cool, Doc.  But someone needs to tell Deynann and Co. the story of the jongleur and the calzone.
> 
> Also, does the player of Deynann get to play the imposter as well when the real one isn't present?  How is that being worked so that it's not a dead giveaway? *




Very true!  They haven't had to deal with nearly as many impersonation and disguise attempts as the Freeport duo, though.

Dey's player was indeed playing both roles.  One of the advantages to an online game is that one can 'pass notes' without the other players knowing anything is up - I can only assume that that is what was going on (the pilot was 'directed' by my wife, Ailsa's & Dru's player).

J


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## drnuncheon (Sep 23, 2003)

_Phew! Finally an update! Expect them more frequently now that I'm getting used to my new schedule (which doesn't explain why it's been so long, but..._

Twilight, or what passes for twilight in this sunless place, falls, and with it, comes the drizzling rain that is common for this city. The group is inside of Sulemein's house, gathered together to get ready for the battle.

Ailsa sits on the floor, leaning against a wall. She watches everyone idly, but more or less keeps her thoughts to herself.

Sulemein sits on his desk, feet pulled into his lap. Back straight, palms resting on knees. He breathes rhythmically, and waits.

Merilee has stepped out, promising to return soon.

"Out of merest curiosity," inquires Deynann openly of the group, "has anyone bothered to verify Merilee's story?" Dey shrugs his shoulders a little. "I mean, it wouldn't be a complete surprise to me to discover that she and this other thing are in league, and this is a set-up."

Kraydn's jaw drops open, and he blinks. "This one hadn't even thought of that," he says in astonishment. "But if this other thing can look like that one..."

Sulemein murmurs softly, "We have not had the opportunity, friend. Indeed, she could possibly _be_ the impostor..."

Deynann looks over at Ailsa querulously. "I'm not sure... has Lianna blessed you with any ability to see into someone's motives or the like? Perhaps we should do so when she comes back, yes? Just in case... if she's who she says she is, then she won't mind."

Ailsa turns glowing eyes to regard Deynann. "I could do that," she admits. "I asked Lianna to grant me that power this morning, knowing that I was going to wake up a stranger in a very strange city."

Kraydn sighs. "This one wishes he had thought of asking for it on that last business venture," he mutters.

Deynann looks over his companions. "With the exception of Sulemein, I'm not certain how much experience the rest of you have had in fighting extraplanar... er, that is, extraplanar to the Prime... entities. I hope not to insult anyone by offering some suggestions." He looks sternly at his brother now, and offers, "The straightforward method is not often -- in fact, rarely -- the best one with such creatures."

Kraydn scratches the back of his head. "This one remembers fighting the rats in the library," he says brightly. "Although the straightforward method worked there."

Ailsa idly strokes the side of her shield of ice. "I have fought extraplanar creatures before," she says, "though suggestions are always welcomed."

"And you were decimated and obliterated by a frost worm, weren't you Sir Knight?"

"Yes Bors, thank you." Syova continues polishing the blade.

Sulemein's eyes remain closed as he maintains his meditation. It may be apparent, however, that he is alert and attentive.

Deynann bobs his head to Ailsa. "Excellent -- Lianna's blessed you with foresight and beauty." He winks at her, then returns to a more serious mien. "I'll look to enhancing your natural abilities as best I can -- it's too much to go through at the moment, but don't be surprised at what might happen. My focus, however, will be in countermagic; we can't afford to let this thing use its spells on us, or for escape."

Sulemein murmurs softly, "If you like, I shall restrain my strikes until such time it appears it shall begin to weave it's sorceries."

Kraydn snorts. "This one has yet to meet the creature that can cope with three feet of steel run through a vital organ.

Ailsa glances at the sword, the corners of her mouth quirking upward. "I can, as I always have, supply healing magics to any who are injured... though I'm capable of much more than I was when we were last all together. Much of my magic is supportive as well... at least, it is today." She frowns. "Do you think it highly possible that it would be able to teleport out?"

"That would be appreciated... if it is possible at all, Sulemein," Dey agrees. "Given some forewarning, I'll be Hastening each of us. Without the forewarning, I'll have to prepare what I can as things occur." Grinning at Kray, he murmurs, "Not everything is possessed of internal organs." He nods to Ailsa's question. "I do. If not by its own ability, then by magic."

Ailsa considers. "Maybe I should cast a spell over it to keep it from being able to teleport out."

Sulemein's eyes flicker open to look on kraydn. "Friend Kraydn... never assume. There is much here you have no kenning of... There are those not easily affected by 'three feet of steel'..." He inclines his head to Deynann. "Then I shall remain hidden, and strike unseen from the shadows."

Kraydn looks around the room. "Er...is this a /large/ apartment that we're going to, Dey? If that one's going to be summoning things left and right, it might get a bit crowded."

Ailsa chuckles, leaning her head against the wall. "If things go /very/ badly, I can always resurrect. Once I get the money for the components, that is."

Clearing his throat, Dey lifts his shoulders and looks at Kray. "It's not all that large, no. I'll be considerate for what I call upon. And all I'm really saying is... be careful. No need to leap down the throat of danger when it can be cut from the outside."

Syova lifts his sword to peer down the length of the blade. "You're looking very well today, Bors."

"Of course Sir. We will do as we always do then?"

"Of course, Bors. As we always do. We will fight well today I think."

There is a knock at the door, quiet but firm.

Deynann glances at Ailsa. "You might want to invoke your spell."

Sulemein nods as he slides from the desk, and allows Ailsa time for preparation before opening the door.

Ailsa nods, and straightens up. "Lianna, I ask that you grant me the ability to see through deceit, so that your enemies might expose themselves to us." She makes a gesture with one hand, as if pleading. When she opens her eyes, she nods.

And... the purple-haired sorceress comes in. As promised, she is wearing a short sword. She smiles. "Well, I didn't run into anything out there that tried to drink my magic. This is well."

Deynann steps away from the door, turned to face it as it's opened. His left thumb toys with the nearby blue ring.

Ailsa turns her gaze to study the sorceress, smiling but silent.

Kraydn nudges his brother. "Ask her," he mutters.

Deynann grins. "Trust me, I try and avoid the magic-drinkers as much as possible, myself." He looks over at Sulemein, nodding to the monk. "Merilee, if you don't mind, we would like to ask you a few questions. Please."

Merilee glances around the room, and shrugs nonchalantly, perching on the edge of a sofa. "You can ask me anything you'd like," she says, cautiously.

Sulemein closes the door, and just happens to place himself between Merilee and the door. His little form doesn't seem much of an impediment should she desire to leave.

"Excellent," says Deynann. "This is more of a formality than anything... considering the nature of our enemy, we have every reason to be cautious, as you'd agree." His eyes become glassy as he, also, speaks words of magic, hands outstretched toward Merilee as he does, though not in the aggressive, enunciated way of evocation.

Kraydn begins to pace, shaking his hand in the air to get the blood moving. Every so often he turns to watch his brother and the purple-haired sorceress.

Syova lays his weapon across his lap before turning slightly to check the straps and grip on his shield.

Merilee's eyes narrow, and she mutters, "Glad I hadn't thought to buff myself up early." She says, then, "Like I said, you can ask me any questions that you like."

By now, Ailsa's eyes have completely lost their focus. If anyone were to say, attack her, they would be able to do so, without any resistance.

Deynann bobs his head. "You are Merilee, a sorcerer that was attacked by the magic-draining creature that has taken my visage for its own purposes?"

"Sorceress, Dey," Kraydn corrects absent-mindedly. "Definitely female."

Deynann looks at Kraydn, then nods. "Consider my question amended."

Merilee nods, looking somewhat relieved at this line of questioning. "Yes, I am. I was attacked by someone that I thought was you, and it took away some of my magic ability."

Ailsa nods, faintly, for anyone who glances at her for confirmation.

"Please describe your intent for this creature, and for the people in this room." Dey's wearing a relaxed smile, though the ring twirls about as fast as his thumb can work it.

Merilee smirks, her eyes glittering dangerously. "My intentions for the creature are to have it destroyed as completely and utterly as I can manage it, so that I am not hunted by it anymore. As or the people in this room... I have no desire for a fight. You are who is making it possible for me to destroy this thing. Keeping that desire from being just an idle dream."

Sulemein flicks another glance to Ailsa.

Ailsa studies Merilee intently, with those unfocused eyes. "Truth," she murmurs.

Licking his lips, Deynann says, "Very well. One last thing: once we've destroyed the thing, what regard will you have for the others in this room?" He shrugs, almost apologetically, "Just closing up loopholes. I'm sure you can appreciate my doing so."

Sulemein's head tilts slightly as he regards Deynann and Merilee.

Merilee chuckles, and shakes her head. "I can, as I do not have that same assurance with all of you, alas." She says, then, "But I will answer to put your fears to rest. I will have the same regard for you that I will for any of my other allies... and that I will count you amongst those that are not to be harmed."

Ailsa nods, again.

Sulemein clears his throat quietly as Deynann concludes his question and answer period.

Deynann watches Ailsa's response to this last statement, then relaxes, his ring positioned at rest once more. "Thank you for indulging us -- in return, you may ask me any questions you might have."

Sulemein murmurs softly, "Friend Deynann... are you brother to Kraydn, and the man I have known since our days in Tronmaar?"

Ailsa turns, obligingly, to look at Deynann, eyes focussing and then unfocussing again.

Deynann nods to Sulemein's question. "Elder brother to Kraydn ibn Tayyar, four years departed from the vicinity of Treyvan and Master Varse's tutelage, to explore all that the planes have to offer."

Ailsa studies Deynann for a moment, and then nods.

Kraydn sniffs. "And unable to send a letter home, Mother would like me to remind you."

Deynann rolls his eyes. "When I can -be- home in under ten seconds, what's the point?"

Ailsa says, slowly, so as to not break her concentration, "Are people done with questions?"

Sulemein offers a small, apologetic smile to Deynann. "And you have drained no one of magics?"

"/Can/ be, but /haven't/ been," Kraydn points out.

Deynann shakes his head at Kraydn, "This one doesn..." but pauses in his reprimand and looks at Sulemein with some chagrin. "Even if such were within my capability, I would never do so to another sorcerer. Or sorceress," he says with a glance at Merilee.

Ailsa nods again.

Sulemein inclines his head to Deynann, "Forgive me, friend. The questions were in necessaity asked of you..."

Kraydn sighs. "This is taking forever. Ailsa, love, will that one just concentrate on each of us while we say 'This one is not the spell eater, nor is this one in league with the spell eater'? Then we'll all be sure and we can go deal with the damned thing."

Kraydn coughs. "Unless this one's wife is the spell eater, but this one finds that rather unlikely."

Deynann chuckles, though dryly. "It's fine. Fair play, considering that my face has become the newest fad for extraplanar creatures to wear." He looks about the room, "Unless we've got any more questions, I'm with Kray -- we should wait at the apartment."

Ailsa coughs, and her eyes focus again. "I'm satisfied," she says, letting her eyes adjust to non-aura vision again. "Let's go kick some ass."

Sulemein murmurs to Deynann, "Make it so."

Merilee gets to her feet, looking eager to kill something.

"Everyone stand, join hands," murmurs Deynann as he clears his expression and mind, thoughts focused on the destination. "Give me a minute."

Kraydn makes a face. "We're going to teleport, aren't we? This one hates that." He takes off his new hat somewhat regretfully. "No sense in getting it ruined in a fight. In fact..." swinging his cloak off, he strips his doublet off as well, revealing a shirt of a fine silvery mail. He settles his baldric back over his shoulder and dons the cloak again, folding the doublet carefully and setting it on a chair.

Ailsa stands to her feet as well, securing her items, and stashing some in an impossibly tiny looking bag. She then takes ahold of a couple of hands, waiting.

Kraydn grasps Ailsa's hand, and extends one to Syova.

Sulemein grasps Merilee's and Deynann's hand.

Deynann adds, "Please rid yourself of additional baggage. Take only what's necessary, else... we might not all make it."

Syova rises, looking skeptical. "My apologies, but what is going to happen to us." He stares at Kraydn's hand suspiciously before taking it and after sheathing Bogoris out of necessity, someone elses.

Ailsa says, "Oh, he's just going to teleport us to where the creature's lair is, that's all."

Sulemein releases the hands briefly, to lock the door, then takes them in his grip once more.

"These ones will be someplace else instantly," Kraydn supplies. "It's hell on the stomach."

Deynann chuckles. "Only until you get used to it. It's not so bad... just don't go swimming for at least half an hour after."

"This one /saw/ the water in this city," Kraydn mutters. "No fear."

Sulemein murmurs, "I thought that was the rule for eating, friend Deynann..."

"We're not supposed to eat for half an hour after teleporting? This one never feels like it anyway..."

Deynann replies with words of magic -- his eyes remain closed as he calls out his command to the ether, and it responds. There is no in-between, simply standing in one place and another.

The room that you are now standing in is covered in white plush carpet, wall to wall. Whitewashed walls are draped in richly colored wool tapestries. There is tasteful, elegant furniture in the room. Two sliding doors reveal a tiny room, just large enough to hold a bed, and another door seems to lead to a gardarobe. There is no one in it.

Ailsa looks cautiously around the room. "Should I purge the room of any invisibles, do you think?"

"This to be our battlefield, Sir?" whispers Bogoris. "Isn't it a bit...plush for war?"

Metal against metal produces the expected sound as Syova shrugs quietly and draws the sword as quietly as possible. "Shh now, Bors."

Deynann nods. "Just in case, please."

Ailsa grasps her silver and gold holy symbol, and says, "Lianna, show me those that would cheat, and hide their presence from your chosen one." When she opens her eyes, she looks around the entire area, before shaking her head. "No one at all."

"How very...white," Kraydn comments, looking around. He releases the hands of cleric and paladin, and tugs at his gloves to make sure they are firmly in place. The mail glints from underneath his cloak as he walks back and forth, testing his footing, feeling the carpet under his feet. One hand reaches under the cloak and emerges with a slender wand, the other reaches for the swan-embossed hilt of his blade.

Merilee wrinkles her nose, and starts pulling items out of a bag. A pair of bracers. A belt. She puts them on, and then creeps over to wait in the shadows.

Deynann murmurs to Kraydn, "Stay near me for the time being -- perhaps I'll be able to grant you a... better form of invisibility." To Sulemein, he nods, "Thank you for taking the door. You're the best choice to prevent its escape."

Kraydn nods to Dey, then turns to Ailsa. "Er...perhaps Lianna could grant some of us the blessing of strength..."

Ailsa says, quietly, "I doubt that I will be on the 'front lines,' but for those of you that will be, I have some spells, if you want them. She looks at Kraydn, and then at Syova. "Strength of the Gods for each of you, perhaps?" And then she eyes Sulemein. "How about Endurance of the Mighty for you?"

Sulemein inclines his head to Deynann, then smiles at Ailsa, "It may well prove of great use, friend Ailsa..."

Deynann adds, "I have the ability to impose additional life energy as well, for any who'd care for it."

Kraydn moves to his wife, ready to receive the blessing. His eyes close, and he holds the symbol of their shared faith that hangs around his neck.

Deynann tilts his head at the sorceress. "Well?"

Ailsa puts a hand on her shorter husband's head. "Lianna grant your faithful servant more strength, so that he can kill in your name."

Merilee glances at Deynann, surprised. "Hmmm? Are you offering the life energy to /me/?"

Deynann coughs. "I hope we intend on keeping it alive... if only for a short interrogation? I've got a lot of things to reclaim from it, and I'm sure Merilee would like to investigate the possibility of regaining the magic it stole from her."

Ailsa moves on to Sulemein. "Lianna, grant this loyal ally the endurance to withstand the trial that is to come."

"Er... yes, yes I suppose I am." Dey looks quizzically at Merilee.

Sulemein murmurs softly, as he awaits his turn, "I shall strike to subdue, friend..."

"Oh," says Merilee, looking surprised. "Well, I'd like it very much, if you have it to spare."

Ailsa turns, looking questioningly at Syova.

Deynann moves to Merilee, one hand opened and placed upon her shoulder. Electricity envelops his arm, burrowing into the sorceress, conducting a surge of heat through her. Smiling, Dey steps back from her. "Better?" he asks.

Kraydn opens his eyes as the divine power flows through him, and he steps back with a grin, flexing his arms. "Lianna favors this one today," he chortles. "This magic eater won't know what hit it."

Merilee's eyes are closed, as if savoring the electrical feeling, and nods. "Yes, much," she says, straightening up and patting her sword.

Kraydn looks askance at the sorcerers. "Is it safe to be passing around life energy like that, Dey? This one thought that was the province of the gods."

Sulemein feels the shiver of mystic energies course through bone and sinew, and nods, turning to place himself behind the opening of the door, within the shadows.

"Safe?" Dey grins broadly at his brother. "You speak as if energy were the province of divinity itself. No, arcanists have long blurred the difference between what the gods provide and what magic can provide." He glances about, "Where's Sulemein?"

Sulemein hisses, ever so softly.

Merilee draws her sword silently, and then ghosts back into the shadows. She waits, eyes bright, and focussed on the door.

Kraydn nods, having heard the same thing. "Ready?" he says in a low voice, sliding his blade free of its scabbard.

Ailsa steps back into a corner, trying to not be seen.

Kraydn then sheathes his sword, having had a better idea. "This one will surprise it," he says, holding the wand out of sight. "Hide."

The door opens. Deynann steps inside.

Turning at thie sudden preparation within the room, Deynann frowns. His left hand balls into a fist, and he stands straight, facing the door.
"Hello," says Deynann to the imposter. "Pleased to meet you."

Sulemein remains utterly still, ready to drag Dey2 inside and slam the door shut if necessary.

"Brother!" Kraydn says brightly, swinging one arm wide. "This one has been waiting for you! The landlord..." He stops as the real Dey interrupts him.

"Deynann" turns in surprise, and then steps the rest of the way inside. "I had not thought to see you here," he says, calmly, annunciating his words carefully with the habit of someone who is speaking in a tongue foreign to himself.

Sulemein still remains as a stone gargoyle perched above the entry of a gothic cathedral.

Deynann smiles brightly. "You have something of mine. I'd like it back," he says, conversationally. "Either that, or some royalties."

Kraydn sees something in the false Deynann's eyes - some hint of trouble, a flicker of hostility. That's enough for the Vhal. His left hand snaps upward, holding the wand. "Elandilerret!" he cries, manglingthe pronunciation of the elven word, but it seems to be good enough for the wand. Five violet globes spit out in twisting arcs to slam into the thing wearing his brother's face. The Vhal steps back, drawing his blade, and awaits retaliation.

The purple haired sorceress leaps out of the shadows, to try to put her sword into "Deynann." The blade smacks into its bare skin and skitters off.

Sulemein, squeezed behind the door in the corner, suddenly slams the barrier shut as he launches outward, using the wall as a brace. A slim hand lashes across and downward to strike the false Deynann at the base of its neck, in quite a nicely placed blow.

"Deynann" starts to chant, but seems to be a little surprised at the monk launching himself at it. It fumbles through the spell, and whatever it was intending to happen, didn't. It looks down at Sulemein, a little confused, but not noticeably damaged.

Deynann begins casting as soon as he sees Kraydn taking action -- actually seeing what Kray does nearly causes him to fumble his spell, but he nevertheless manages to speak the words in the proper order and timing. Though anyone looking at the real Dey's face might see a rather perplexed, halfway astounded, expression. As the incantation fills the room, a quickening can be felt in the limbs and minds of Deynann and his allies.

Ailsa, moving quickly now thanks to the sorcerous spell, raises her hands in supplication. "Lianna, bless us so that we can defeat this enemy." And then, just as quickly, says, "Lianna, be the bane of this creature's existence, unto death."

Syova hits it once and wow! Due to his outstanding combat skill manages to get in a few more twhacks. Which he attempts post haste. He hits the thing twice more, with one good shot getting through.

Kraydn leaps forward in the wake of Syova's assault, his rapier moving at impossible speeds to puncture the impostor: one merely through the arm, but two sliding through the ribs into the heart. He steps back with a grin, waiting for it to fall from the fatal wound...

...and then his expression changes, as the expected result does not come about. The rapier snaps back up to a guard position, a strange milky fluid swiftly oozing down the blade where there should be blood. "Lianna's **!" he cries.

The purple-haired sorcerous tries to turn into a dervish like Kraydn, but with no results. Her blade scrapes along "Deynann's" skin, not puncturing through.

Sulemein suddenly feels the blaze of expected sorcery slither through his veins like a wildfire, and he lashes out with a blindingly swift kick to displace the impostor from its upright position. Unfortunately, it also possesses the skill and attempts to return the favor, and they struggle mightily. Finally the monk hops back and lands two lightning quick jabs at the thing's chest, rocking it on its heels, but causing no apparent injury.

The false Deynann's expression remains relatively placid, despite the growing burden of wounds that grow upon his flesh. It stands tall, cautiously speaking the words of a potent spell.

Dey watches it carefully, and in noting the first few syllables of the spell, speaks in antiphon, his own words dampening the very sound of the imposter's incantation. The two meet eyes as the magic ends with a dull silence, and the real Dey says in stage whisper, "Sorry about that."

Deynann smirks, then begins a new spell, lacing fingers before him in a web. Lightnign crackles between the spaces, and the room smells faintly of ozone as he twists the lightning about, grasping its energies and focusing them into a tight ball of light. Then, with a sharp clap, the ball is gone, and Dey smiles at the result, looking at his mirror image with a ferocious glee.

"That didn't seem to work, Dey, it's still standing," his brother observes.

The false Deynann watches the real Deynann placidly, no sign of rancor on its face at all. It stops in its spellcasting attempts when it sees that the efforts are wasted. Its wounds start to close on their own accord, some of the damage that Kraydn dealt it disappearing.

"Give it a moment," says Deynann to his brother. "To sink in."

Ailsa's eyes narrow, and she says to Lianna, "Keep this imposter from fleeing the room magically." A blast of green energy bursts from her hands, and engulfs the false Deynann. And then: "Lianna, strip this creature of its foul magics. Lay it bare and defenseless to us."

"Aha! Take that foul creature! And that! And....that! Submit! Surrender!"

Syova, using the ancient and subtle magic of 'The Follow Through' deals a number of well placed blows to the creature.

"This one thinks perhaps this may be one of those times when steel doesn't work. Bah! This one hates to eat his words. Elandilerret!" In the wake of the glowing balls, he leaps forward again with the rapier. Again and again and again it slams home - this time slicing at the veins in its neck. "It's got skin like stone!"

Merilee launches herself at the creature again, her sword biting into its flesh a couple of times.

A look of resignation crosses Dey's face. "Looks like we kill it," he says with a sigh, and outstretches both arms toward the thing. His fingers tug power from the air, shaping it into several small, silver-white spheres that crackle with electricity. His skin almost appears translucent as the spheres dance upon him, and his motions weave them into a single line of swirling lightning. Then, in a thunderous spiral, he releases them toward the creature, each one now dancing with jagged legs upon it as the room bleaches with the infusion of Deynann's sorcery.

The "Deynann" wannabe catches on fire from the huge amount of electricity dancing over his form. It starts to smoke, and blacken, and then falls, sighing, to the floor, unmoving.

Deynann tugs a blanket off the bed, moving to smother the flames before they spread to the carpet and, thus, the apartment.

Sulemein sighs softly, as he studies the thing.

Ailsa coughs. "That wasn't difficult," she said, peering at the charred mess.

Deynann waves off the lightning balls back to the ether, throwing the blanket over the (hopefully) corpse and snuffing out the flames. "Despite my wishes, I doubt it was going to let us take it alive."

Ailsa walks up, staring down at the thing.

Kraydn moves forward, prodding with his rapier at the pile of charcoal that used to look like his brother. "That...whatever it was...was very tough. We're lucky it seemed to be incompetent."

Sulemein shakes his head to Deynann as he kneels beside the thing for a closer examination. "My blows were wholly ineffective... perhaps I should have used the greater of my strength against it..."

Deynann stares up at Kray. "Was it just me, or did I see you take an inordinate amount of pleasure from impaling my lookalike through the heart?"

For those that are looking, the thing seems to be mostly blackened. But, where innards and blood should be, are things like vines, and branches, and ooze, which steams.

Kraydn sniffs. "It was pretending to be a son of Tayyar. Of /course/ this one took pleasure in teaching it a lesson."

Syova says, "Ha ha! The heros are victorious! No foe too mighty! No challenge too fearful! Well done my friends! Well done!"

Syova's nose wrinkles as he peers down at what's left of 'it'. "Yes Bors, thank you.""

Deynann coughs. "Of -course-. Um... speaking about being a 'son of Tayyar', how did you use that wand?"

Kraydn looks down at the wand in surprise. "Well...it's a magic wand. You say the word, and it works."

"It's a magic wand. Which, typically, can only be used by arcanists." Dey cocks a brow. "So, explain -that-."  He reaches a hand into the innards of the thing, tugging out some of its internal muck. "... odd. In fact, downright bizarre. This thing wasn't alive. It was -made-."

Merilee studies the thing intently, and sighs. "Unfortunately, its death did not send my magic back to me. I was perhaps being naive, but that is what I was hoping for." She frowns, thoughtfully.

"Nonsense. If it could only be used by arcanists, this one wouldn't be able to use it." Kraydn slips the slender piece of inlaid wood into the quiver that hangs below his cloak, then surreptitiously wipes his sword on the upholstery of a nearby chair before sheathing it.

Deynann looks up at Merilee. "Something tells me that this isn't over yet." He sighs, pawing through the mess to see if he can't find some genius loci, some point which governed or held the magic that animated the creature.  "Unless that one's become an arcanist without knowing it," suggests Dey with a fierce grin. "Seen any floating balls of light recently?"

"Only the ones you threw at your twin," Kraydn shoots back.

Deynann laughs aloud. "You sound defensive, Kray. Like you're scared that you might actually know a little more than you'd like to admit about the workings of magic. It -has- been a while, hasn't it."

Ailsa scowls down at the husk. "If it was made, that means that the maker is still at large?"

Sulemein speaks softly as he pushes the thing with a finger, and pokes into its innards. "Indeed, friend Deynann... it was apparently acting of its own volition, perhaps having escaped its master. Likely it drained its creator of sorceries, after somehow becoming sentient - a wholly unusual occurence."

Deynann blinks at Sulemein. "What makes you think this thing was sentient?"

"This one doesn't know /anything/ about magic, Dey," Kraydn sighs. "There's nothing /to/ know. You point the wand, you say the word, and it works." He looks over at Sulemein. "That one seems to know quite a bit about it..."

Sulemein murmurs, "Such has been known to occur, and it did not behaved as though guided...." A shoulder rolls in a shrug. "Perhaps I am mistaken, though I do not believe so..." He looks to Merilee, "You say your sorcerous abilities have not returned?"

"Strange, how one who knows nothing about magic can cast it," says Dey nonchalantly, then stands and watches Sulemein curiously. "I haven't heard of any instances of constructs -achieving- sentience. Any creator who somehow bound a sentient mind into a construct would have to be a fool not to build in failsafes."

Merilee shakes her head. "No, it has not." She furrows her brow. "Don't constructs usually have a very short "life" span?"

Sulemein nods slowly, wiping his fingers along the burned carpet before rising. "Perhaps it needed your fire to subsist. Perhaps it sent the mystic energies to another place. Perhaps it is stored within a receptacle." He looks to Deynann, "Surely stranger things have occured within Sigil, and other places you have visited. You have seen the Modrons, yes?"

Kraydn rolls his eyes. "This one didn't cast a thing, Dey," he explains. "The /wand/ casts the spell. That's why it's a /magic/ wand." He sniffs the air. "Whatever it is, it smells awful. We should get out of here before the constabulary shows up and starts asking inconvenient questions."

Syova nods and agrees.

Ailsa nudges the corpse with her toe, and then sighs. "Kraydn is right," she says. "We should get some rest anyway. It's been a long day."

Sulemein says, "A moment, if you will allow me the indulgence..."

Ailsa glances at Sulemein, arching a brow.

"Yes, yes, laws are meant to be broken and all that. What you're suggesting is, at best, a once-in-the-history-of-the-planes event. Call me skeptical, but it seems more likely that someone or something issued it orders. Complex orders, yes, but so it is." Dey looks around at his companions. "I'll investigate it further."  He smirks at Kray. "What, I'm the rightful owner of the apartment. This thing was an intruder."

Ailsa snickers. "I suppose you could live here, if your other place isn't as nice," she says, looking around. "I wonder how much the rent costs?"

Deynann snorts. "Live? Here? I don't think so. Sublet? Definitely."

Kraydn opens his mouth to object, then closes it. "Hm. This one supposes you're right, after all." he shoots a guilty look at the chair he just wiped his blade on, then takes a seat - different one - and props his boots up on the table.

Sulemein's arms stretch out slightly, and he draws them in towards his chest as he breathes in. The process is repeated several times before he opens his eyes and moves slowly about the room, examining each doorway and other possible location.

Deynann moves the body onto the blanket, so that he might do a Prestidigation cleaning.

Sulemein murmurs, "There are no portals in this place... let us search it for possible clues, perhaps?"

"There's some magic make-up in the closet," offers Dey helpfully. "And clothes. Male and female. Jessica was its female form."

The purple haired sorceress sighs. "You all have my thanks. I am glad that it is gone, regardless of whether I got my magic back or not.

Sulemein pauses in his search to look to Merilee, "As are we, for your assistance and prior attempt at warning, friend Merilee."

Deynann smiles at Merilee. "Thanks again for your help. I'll do some research and see what can be done about getting you your magic back. Where can we find you, or should I ask?"  He looks down at the body. "Oh. Hmm. Stuff. Let me check to see if it's magic."  He tugs out a ring and a wand, holding them both up for inspection. "Should consider getting these identified, sometime. Merilee, I'm presuming you'll be interested in discovering what these are, maybe you'll be able to use one."

Merilee grins. "Sure, that sounds good to me. I'm sure that we can work out some sort of deal on who could use what."

Sulemein's head tilts as he examines the clothing and makeup that Merilee points out, and then moves the robes and cloaks aside to reveal a chest. "perhaps this will aid in procuring the identifications required, friends..."

Ailsa looks over. "Did you find money?"

Deynann eyes the wand. "I'm guessing this is something like a wand of ... well, fireballs, lightning bolts, magic missiles... something along those lines. The ring's probably a protective ring."

Sulemein nods slowly. "A tidy sum of jink, it would appear." He absently lapses into the parlance of the land.

"At least it's over and done with," Kraydn sighs, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Now we can get back, and perhaps this one's brother can show us where to get a drink in this town, without having floating people building a wall behind you."


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