H130, day 186, Peak (Open) - Spell Formula Tent

[feq]

"I imagined Sigil having more of an open area for mages to explore and exchange ideas" Vatndir said to Nilou, as they passed. "Ah, see I was right." Ditching his companion absent mindedly, Vatndir entered the fray. His eyes quickly cought Spell Formulae Traded and Sold, and he swam through the croud to the tent.

Entering, he quickly scanned the area to see what was available.

[Uathach Blackmantle]

It's a cool and gray day; gloomy, overcast and wet, typical of Sigil's bleak weather. It's a busy day, nonetheless, as not even the sluggish, dirty rain sluicing from the dull, leaden sky will stop the residents of the Cage from going about their usual business. The steady drumming of raindrops, and iron shod hooves splashing through mud puddles, rarely echoes louder than the clink of sparkles and jink.

Heavy traffic streams through the smog, mist and rain, shrouding the Lower Ward; the sounds of hammers ringing on anvils, the hiss of tempered iron, the roar of forge fires, the various calls of laborers and smithies echo from the cramped workshops on either side; Multitudes of shod or bare feet, hooves and tails clatter on broken cobbles, grunts of protest and more than a few harsh obscenities rise from the throng, as one berk carelessly bumps into another, and the indecipherable din of many clammouring voices...

All of this creates an aura of urgency and of industry, hanging above this small slice of the great Torus, as surely as the rank miasma belched from dirty chimneys, and Lower Planar portals...

A recognisable Dustwoman, shrouded in black gothick robes and a dull grey cloak, leaden like the sky above her, emerges from the Peak hour traffic, in the more orderly part of the ward. She pauses briefly on the sidewalk, stepping aside quickly as a pair of gith push past her, and scans the fancy architecture, the neat, cleaner layout, leading up into the seat of Sigil's power.

She looks lost for a moment, peering this way and that through the moving traffic, glancing up at the buildings again for any familiar landmarks, until she spies precisely why she'd ventured out here today:

The Society of the Luminiferous Aether. The last time the market was open, going back a few years ago, she'd been tied up at the Mortuary, and missed the occassion to browse the Society's wares. Wraith enters the square, hesitating again to read the signs above each of the tents.

Of all the tents present, only the bright canopies sporting the labels, Spell Formulae Traded and Sold and Alchemical Miscellany captured her attention.

Perhaps it was coincidence, perhaps by chance, or Fate, or for random unrelated reasons altogether, that makes the tiefling Dead stop at that moment. For whichever reason it happened, it had the same outcome... Heading for one of the tents she intended to browse, was none other than the brash Genasi from the Open Shell.

It had to be. Wraith glanced his way again, just to be certain her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. Afterall, in a swarm of planewalkers, Cagers, fiends, Celestials and Gith, how could one berk identify another from the faceless masses? She shook her head. It wasn't possible, but she could've sworn she recognised the garish red robe, the wavy green hair, and the carved shell adornments. And, as she was heading that way, she decided to trust her intuition... At least inside, she'd get a closer look, and see if he was the berk she remembered.

Wraith starts off again, at an even, measured pace, and slips into the tent, soft and silent as a breath of cold Mortuary air.

She didn't place much stock in the ideals of the Signers - then again, part of the time, she didn't know what to make of her own beliefs - but she was canny enough to know that things always happened for a reason, that no event was accidental. And any berk willing to spare a friendly smile and a few compassionate words for one sad tiefling Dustman, then laugh off the cold, calculating threat of her superior, was worth wigwagging with, in her opinion. She admired his audacity, and outspokenness.

Inside the tent, Wraith scans the crowd of spellslingers haggling over prices, spies the Genasi again, and removes her black veil, hoping to catch his eye...


OOC Note: I know I've gone a bit overboard with the descriptiveness of this post. If it's too much, please let me know, and I'll alter it as needed.

[Stix]

As a body approaches, it becomes obvious that the Society paid well for security. At least two Harmonium patrols are making the rounds. A squad of four Mercykillers stands guard in front of each tent, itching to painfully remove any undesirables from the area.

Stepping out of the rain makes it much easier to see what's going on beneath the canopy: eight Society members sit at a U-shaped counter, haggling with customers, consulting with runners who dart in and out of the building at regular intervals, carrying thin wooden scroll cases this way and that.

Due to the volume of the trades taking place, Vatndir will have to spend some time packed in among the throng of knowledge-seekers.

[whisper=Feq, stix]The blonde human with the wide-set eyes standing next to you speaks quietly, her lips barely moving as she attempts to evade notice. "I got some o' the same ones 'ey got," she says, faintly brushing aside her rain cloak to reveal four wooden scroll cases beneath. "Thirty pieces o' silver each, and they want a hundred."[/whisper]

[feq]

[OOC so sorry for the gap in posting, my computer blew out monday, and I've been spotty on my internet use]

Vatndir spends his throng packed time politely and nicely looking around the place, moving about wondering what his mind may have called forth in such a wonderous place. He parused the wares, commented and chatted to and fro.

"Well met", "Interesting to imagine you being here", "I think this place is very crowded". "I imagine I've seen you before." "I think I haven't seen anything as lovely as you in quite a while." The last of course being uttered to some nicknack or spell, and not to a person.

His eyes scanned everything, taking in all that they could. As is usual, his hands were as active as his mind. He touched whatever he could, poking, proding and examining, all deftly and secretly, avoiding the gaze of the guards and patrons. [Rolls in PM]

When the woman approached, Vatndir was delighted, he turned to her and moved closer.

[whisper]"Well aren't you magnificent. I was just thinking that the prices here were overhigh, and I had thought I wished I imagined someone with more sence. However, I must know what is contianed, before I'll pay.[/whisper]

Vatndir's interest in the woman's conversation was true and honest, however, something else struck him more. A familar, beautifully haunting face at the door. One whose voice had kept so in his thoughts, that he couldn't help but imagine her turning up in almost every place he visited in Sigil. Even in a place like this.

Giving the woman only a short time to try and finish what she started, Vatndir signaled to Wraith across the room, hoping to catch her eye. With all the subtly of Vatndir's personality, he said "Hey! Good to see you. I'm so glad I imagined you turning up. Please, join me!"

[celticguy]

The flame lord looks up as he is bumped into from behind. He looks up to see a cousin of sorts, a water genasi. He moves away into the throng, browsing the spells and items, looking for things of interest. He sees a small figurine of an elven fighter with a bastard sword in his hands, ready for battle, and recognizes it as an Elven Figurine of Fighting. He reaches out as if o pick it up, then seems to think better of it, and draws his hand back. He then moves on and continues to browse, steering clear of the water genasi and his dustwoman companion, wary of the water in his blood quenching the fire in his own.

[Uathach Blackmantle]

feq said:

Giving the woman only a short time to try and finish what she started, Vatndir signaled to Wraith across the room, hoping to catch her eye. With all the subtly of Vatndir's personality, he said "Hey! Good to see you. I'm so glad I imagined you turning up. Please, join me!"

Wraith glances Vatndir's way, and a faint, fleeting smile illuminates her weary features. Adjusting her heavy burden, to try to settle the pack more comfortably on her shoulders, she shuffles through the crowd toward him, and hesitates a few feet away. She seems uncertain for a moment, frowning pensively as she fiddles with the ribbons adorning her robe.

"Hello... Vatndir? I could've sworn I remembered you from the Open Shell... and I was right." It's an absent minded gesture when she raises her fingers to her mouth, and starts to chew her nails, all the while warily glancing about the crowded tent. Then, catching herself in the act, her cheeks redden, and she lets her hands drop to her sides.

Not once does she meet the Genasi's ebon eyes, instead staring slightly off to the side until her eyes start to lose focus, or her gaze wanders restlessly about the tent's interior, never lingering in one spot for long. She stiffles a wide yawn behind her hand.

"So... what brings you here? I mean, I-I would've thought finding the same basher met only a week ago, a little unlikely in a city as crowded as Sigil; kinda like tumbling to the proverbial needle in the haystack, don't you think?"

[feq]

wraithblackmantle said:

[
Not once does she meet the Genasi's ebon eyes, instead staring slightly off to the side until her eyes start to lose focus, or her gaze wanders restlessly about the tent's interior, never lingering in one spot for long. She stiffles a wide yawn behind her hand.

"So... what brings you here? I mean, I-I would've thought finding the same basher met only a week ago, a little unlikely in a city as crowded as Sigil; kinda like tumbling to the proverbial needle in the haystack, don't you think?"

Vatndir addresses Wraith as if she were looking into his eyes, and not away and around. Whenever her eyes do wander towards him, she finds his eyes focused firmly on her, though attentive of the world around.

"Would have thought?" Vatndir starts with a smile, "Well then, lets just be glad that I thought differently. I generally imagine that finding someone worth finding is easy. Anyone worth meeting again will be thought of regularly and so be found. Otherwise, they weren't really worth meeting again in the first place." Vatndir stopped, not out of self conciousness, but because he had been told his logic can drive others away... if not mad.

"Either way, I'm delighted to see you. I imagine I would think of us crossing paths regularly in Sigil. No matter how large the city, there are only so many important places, people and things.
To answer you, I am here out of curiosity. I went to great lenghts, apparently, to imagine this place in great detail during my down time, and clearly, every inch needs to be explored. I'd hate to see it go to waste."

[Uathach Blackmantle]

A blush of embarrassment stains her pale alabaster cheeks, lending some warmth and colour to her faded face. She smiles, slow and tentative at first, until her eyes light up and her whole expression loses its keen, sorrowful edge, in spite of herself and her clearly self-conscious behaviour.

Wraith is quite a beautiful young woman, her smile soft and genuine, her expressive eyes compassionate, tender, nurturing, when she does actually allow any hint of happiness to shine through.

"You have a funny way of thinking, cutter." A wry, amused smile tugs the corners her lips as she realises what she's said. "Likewise, I-I never thought I'd say this about a Signer... but it's good to see you again, too. I have too few friends..."

Alas, her fleeting delight; it doesn't last. Her skin grows cold again, her brief flowering moment of beauty, and vestigal joy retreating back into the dusky gloom of her heart, like a perfect autumn rose closing tight before nightfall.

She frowns pensively, scraping her lower lip with a pointy bone white fang, grimaces as she draws blood, but otherwise ignores it.
"What are you looking for, Vatndir?" It's a listless question, an attempt at idle banter to otherwise draw her mind away from the dark, nagging thoughts that continue to plague her. She yawns again, this time not bothering to cover it, revealing just how tired she is.

Wraith looks like she hasn't slept or eaten properly in days, a fact only amplified by her restlessness, and the uneccessary corset.

[Stix]

After Vatndir takes notice of Wraith, the line shuffles forward again, moving them both past the majority of the onlookers.
[whisper=Feq, Stix]...including the shady saleswoman, who appears to have vanished from sight.[/whisper]

A clerk at the nearby table -- a stoic githzerai with a long, thin scar from ear to chin -- waves the Signer and Dustman over. "What can I help you find, bashers?"

[whisper=Rhenai, Stix]A homely blonde woman with wide-set eyes approaches you, a faint stamp of the Xaositect faction symbol on the leather of her belt, which a less observant being wouldn't have picked out. "Four we've got what need finding jink," she babbles in a whisper, leaning in close to Rhenai. She surreptitiously opens the vest over her tunic, revealing four thin wooden scroll cases beneath. "Ten they want for mine, the same! Three coins of shining gold for you, these are yours." She glances over her shoulder, making sure no one attempts to eavesdrop. "Three coins for one. Five coins for two. Seven coins for three, and six for four!"[/whisper]

[feq]

Vatndir realizes his mistake, having let his thoughts wander and losing the saleswoman. Making sure his mind didn't wander from Wraith, he turned to the sales clerk.

"What do you have in the way of water? I think I'm quite intreagued and positioned to buy any spells having to do with that element. Oh, I'm also in the market for the more advanced versions of my current summoning spells. I imagine this would be a great place to pursue advancing in my mastery of such fields. In addition, I'd imagine one such as yourself could suggest a spell for me; and I think I'd like to ask the lady here what she thinks i should consider if anything."

[ooc edited to expand before anyone responded]

[Stix]

"Conjuration and the elements," the gith repeats to himself, producing two large index books, seemingly from nowhere. He begins to leaf through the first, written in columns in a flowing alien script. "If you're well-accomplished in your studies, you may not find much you can use, here. All that we're making publicly available today are cantrips and spells of the first and second house -- anything more requires membership."

He falls silent for a moment, doubling back in his page-turning before finally giving up, abruptly flipping the book closed and calling for a clerk. "You!" he calls curtly, pointing one knobby-jointed finger to a young woman near the building. "The revised index of elemental magic, at once.

"This shouldn't take long," he says to Vatndir as the runner makes a sour face and steps into the Society's headquarters. "Give us a moment, please.

"Do you need assistance?" the githzerai asks of the Signer's companion -- Wraith -- meeting her eyes with a lusterless yellow-gold stare. Cursorily looking her over, he preemptively adds, "Necromancy?"

[feq]

Vatndir smiled at the man in his overly cheery way. "I think I could use a summoning of the second school. . . though I imagine the revised index will be more interesting." Vatndir thinks deeply for a minute. "I don't think your comment was a stray one. What does membership require."

[Stix]

Turning his attention back to Vatndir, the githzerai answers him promptly in a vaguely disinterested tone. "Membership dues are ten thousand gold pieces per year. The Society's ruling council will waive fees under one of three conditions." He tallies them on his spindly fingertips as he elaborates. "The first: donation of an acceptable magical item to our stores. Secondly: sharing with us an acceptable rare or unique spell formula. Last of all: contribution of substantial knowledge, in hard copy, to our libraries.

"The ruling council is the final authority on what is acceptable or substantial, but know that they deal with the public equitably... they will not 'peel' you." His discomfort with the cant -- or perhaps the planar common tongue -- shows with a slight wince. "Majority vote determines whether your findings or contributions are accepted; if they are not, they will be returned to you at no gain to us... and, in the case of a spell formula, it is likely that you will be offered 'jink' for the right to make use of your findings."

The runner -- perhaps "plodder" would be a better term -- returns with a thick folio of loose paper and shoves it brusquely into the gith's shoulder. His retaliation is only a dismissive wave with one hand as he accepts the delivery and begins to leaf through it, glancing back to Vatndir to see if the genasi has anything to add.

[feq]

"I imagine the rewards for membership are most worth that price. However, you'll understand when I say that the thought of paying that price in money would be an athema to me. I can only imagine wanting membership through the donation methods. I imagine I will find something or better yet, develop something, in my travels worthy of this fine membership." Vatndir's stance adjusted, warming himself towards the folio as the gith flipped through it. "For now I shall have to keep the thought alive by working with you towards some spells which may benefit us both."

Vat kept his favorite position; His eyes appeared to focus on the Gith, but also focused heavily on the book and its contents. As interesting spells crossed the pages, Vatndir continued "Then again, I belive I have something which might be of great value, rare waters of distant planes." Vatndir continued talking, shifting his hands in and out of his robes, pulling forth vials of water and replacing them in turn. If a spell is presented to him, Vatndir takes it and looks at it, pausing in his water rotation. "I imagine my project would be worth the price of admission itself, and the spells the Society provides would more than be repaid by the value of the completed project." Vatndir smiled his warmest, moving himself into position for continued discussions once a spell was found.

[Stix]

"Project?" the gith inquires, sparing a brief glance up from the folio.

[feq]

Vatndir smiled, glad he had thought to give the man a healthy curiosity. He slid in closern shifting his eyes around to ensure nobody else could be listening in.

Vatndir spoke quietly, so as to require being closer to the gith and the folio. "Yes, the magical generation and maintenance of a river. I am in the peocess of an extensive study of the nature of rivers of the planes"

[Stix]

"I see," says the gith in a pensive tone. "That research could have some valuable yields in the further development of elemental magic. I do hope you find some success."

He pauses abruptly as he comes across a record in the index that catches his eye. "With regard to your query... are you interested at all in the applications of water as a weapon? I have here a spell of the second house that might interest you."

[celticguy]

Rhenai looks at the woman. "Here you are" he says, slipping the woman 6 gold coins with a trace of a grin on his dark face.

[Uathach Blackmantle]

Wraith's observant eyes flicker back and forth between Vatndir and the stone-faced Gith, quietly watching the exchange, and at the same time pensively regarding the tent's orderly interior. For now she's content to stand back and watch, still a little unsure of why she was here, and carefully sorting through the jumble of ideas, half-formed, beginning to assume some vestiges of cohesion in her mind.

Near forgotten with crushing grief and the dull, looming certainty of Death, her search for the Ideal - the elusive perfection of True Life - still remains, tucked away safely from the rest of her shattered being. And with it lingered questions without answers, and a desire to not only seek out, but to capture and keep, at least a trace of the sublime existence far removed from this one.

It would all start with her ongoing study of the nature of reality, of those conditions known as life and death, and the cyclic sojourn of the Soul from one stage of life, to the next. Some theories claimed that the Inner Planes and the Ethereal were the Cradle of Life, so to speak; that matter and spirit originated from this Multiversal foundation. It seemed logical to start her search here...

Wraith frowned in deep concentration, lost in thought, so when the Gith's attention diverted briefly to her, his query fell on deaf ears. After a moment longer of silent contemplation, she rouses herself from her reverie, and drifts closer to the table, so that when she speaks, her soft words are intended for the Gith, the Genasi, and no other.

"I seek to study the nature of the Inner Planes, and the Ethereal. Of particular interest are the polarised Energy Planes. I intend to produce a spell, an apparatus and a series of experiments from my study of this core planar energy."

[Stix]

"It seems to me that I have something..." the gith says to himself as he glances through the other book at his disposal, leaving Vatndir to think over his decision. He taps the tome with one bony index finger. "It was one of the first uncommon spells added to our libraries, newly researched around the time of the Society's first charter. 'Blood Bridge.' Positive Energy-based Necromancy... it says here that the spell never gained popularity, as too many mages died in its use while trying to heal others." He looks back up to Wraith, smoothing down his neatly-trimmed goatee. "While it may not be directly useful to you, it might aid you in your research. I can provide you with a copy for twenty-five gold pieces.

[whisper=Rhenai, Stix]The woman happily takes Rhenai's money and hands him the four scroll cases. "Don't open the second one," she mumbles. Before she can indicate which one that is, she has already darted out of the tent and disappeared into the crowd.[/whisper]