Lady Norinthall

---

"Sheltered rich kid-!?" She was only one of those things, and it certainly wasn't sheltered! "I have plenty sense of humor! It would have been hilarious if you'd have just gotten tossed into that lake and did your best impression of a mermaid! For me at least. Not for you." Raella sighed, frowning. Well, whatever. This little halfling was lucky he was agile enough to avoid her little friend, but whatever. She'd have thought to pester him more, but the information he had given was actually quite useful.

Tir Na Ong?

Vanished? A week ago?

"...you don't seem like you're lying..." Raella fell silent, frowning as she'd hold a hand to her chin. "...It vanished? Truly? Well, then that's a problem." Where else was she going to find the library at? Not to mention well, the other problems involved if Tir Na Ong truly did vanish. What could make a city where gods lived just vanish?

The thought alone made her just slightly concerned.

"Well, thank you for the info." Motioning for her servant to follow while passing along 2 gold coins to the halfling. "For your trouble. Don't say I'm not reasonable." She'd make her way over to the tent he had pointed too. Might as well see who was claiming to have done this and see if there was any truth to the matter.

Tanrith couldn't help but notice Sarceron seeming to turn his nose up at Zyrech. It made sense, now that he thought about it. He seemed to be more nature-oriented, after all. He didn't like it when people acted so dismissively toward his companion, but it wasn't going to catch everybody's favor. He wasn't going to be able to please everybody and that was alright. He just had to shift things a little bit....

The kobold listened in as Faelee made the assumption that he was from the Mind's Eye. He contemplated correcting her for a brief moment, but ultimately decided to keep his mouth shut. If they were going to make false assumptions about why he was here, he had no reason to correct them; especially since he had already been ready with his excuse as it was. Luckily, he didn't need to confirm nor deny her words as one of the armored figures behind her spoke up again.

At the intrigue, Tanrith couldn't help but flash a grin at Vivir. The armored figure's excited tone sounded much like his own! "'Can he breathe lightning?'" the blue kobold repeated. "Watch and be amazed!~" He then nudged Zyrech a bit. He got the machine beneath him to turn to the side, pointed into an area of open air. Finally, he looked down at his mount and suddenly, he commanded down to his companion in Draconic, "Alright, Zyrech, let's go with Lightning Lure."

With his command issued, the machine's eyes began to light up. Tanrith set his claws down onto the mech dragon's head and began to channel his lightning energy through the magical metal beneath him. Zyrech's eye glow shifted into a bluish hue as he spread his legs out. Then, he reared its head back...and small bits of lightning began to crackle around the edges of his mechanical maw. Finally, his head was thrust forward...and a burst of lightning suddenly lashed out in a line that crackled out fifteen feet from his position!

Of course, since there wasn't a viable target where he aimed his attack, the lightning quickly fizzled out just as quickly as it was launched.

However, as soon as it was completed, the mechanical dragon's glow began to fade and the two turned back toward the group again. Tanrith flashed the group a grin, curious about their reaction...but especially Vivir's.

"As you can see, it's not exactly the same, but I'm still trying to figure that bit out. As for the teeth and claws...." Tanrith added, patting Zyrech on the head. "Unfortunately, I couldn't get them to produce anything stronger than, say...a longsword. But it does utilize a rend of force rather than relying on the slashing claws or piercing fangs themselves. But of course, I had to make him use his claws and fangs for that. The tail too! Have to make him attack like a real dragon would!"

He paused for a moment, taking another glance toward Sarceron. "Of course, I have to be careful. My Wylder friends wouldn't be happy with me if I accidentally damaged stuff out in the wild for no reason." he lowers his head toward the other firbolg. "Sorry if you don't like him much. But I hope you'll give him a chance."

---

Assailed by the sights, smell, and noise of Sigil. Traveling through a strange forest that she did not yet understand, Mariel had moved with renewed caution and readiness. Dodging throngs of keen eyed customers, her attention had not wavered. To lose sight of Lissandra or the others would have meant unwelcome trouble.

Lissandra’s words had released her into a state of further watchfulness and Mariel loomed near her, like a falcon poised to swoop down on any encroaching prey.

She watched the hag calling out to them with growing suspicion. Her time in Sigil had reinforced her weariness of those carrying lofty mercantile aspirations and hopes of profit. Beigeiros seemed to hold no such reservations, so Mariel tabled her temptation to catch up with Aaliyah and Bruno, and to slake her desperate thirst for any information about her vanished home. The irritation that caused her hair to bristle seemed a warning and she chose to ask her own meandering questions as her eyes searched for any trap.

“Why sell so cheaply? What need should we have for cold in Tradegate?” she asked the oppertunisitic merchant.

Great Bazaar, Market Ward, Sigil

@Lurking Krog @Abstract Proxy @Guardian Angel Haruki

The hag gestures towards the display cases in front of her, all filled with different types of ice cream. "My special recipe," she explains. "Each imbued with some of my own magic, to give other spell-casters a bit of edge in a fight." She gives a grin, revealing a gap in her teeth. "Oh and if my customers are to be believed, they taste pretty good too." She gives another cackle before turning her eyes towards Mariel. "Well, you can never be too careful in the Outlands. All sorts of things can be found there. It is connected to all the other Outer Planes, after all." She shrugs. "Plus, if this portal to Tradegate is here to stay, we gotta find ways to live with it." She then looks over each of the group as a whole. "So, what it'll be? Each scoop is normally one silver piece, but like I said, you gotta special deal today. Oh and they come in all different flavors, each costing the same."

---

Ubiquitous Wayfarer, Lower Ward, Sigil

@rush99999 @Fading Memory

Riaen raises an eyebrow. "Ah, another lot headed to the Outlands," she says, somewhat wearily. "Well at least, you're polite about it, which is more than I can say for some of the other folks I've had to deal with this week." She turns away for a moment to go get the group's order.

Once she's a little ways away, Ulgad leans over and whispers to Fyodor and Wynvere. "You two sure you're okay paying for this?" he asks, though probably not as softly and quietly as he was attempting. "I could give some money back if you'd like."

A minute or so later, Riaen returns with a pitcher and four glasses. As she's pouring the wine, she informs the group of the same thing that Zaraknyvr was told by the bouncer: there's a large barrel of wine down in the cellar which acts a portal to Revelhome, the most popular tavern in the gate-town of Ecstasy. "Madame Millani runs the place," Riaen tells the Bleakers. "Good sort, had a lot of good dealings with her, specially since this portal first showed up. Heard she's swift to take care of rowdy customers though, so take care not to piss her off."

"Skeptic?" Tabiah looks mildly amused by Zaraknyvr's description of her. "I suppose that is one word for what I am." She's taking another sip of her drink as Zaraknyvr asks her about the portal key, and with her free hand, she quickly produces a polished greenish-grey pebble and holds it up for he drow to see. Once she places her now nearly-empty glass back on the table, she speaks once more. "I wouldn't come here without it. While I do frequent this establishment, I rarely do so without a destination in mind, and I always make sure to come prepared. The staff so rarely have spare portal keys just on hand, not even Riaen." Tabiah nods her head over to where the tavern's proprietor is serving the Bleakers. As she does, her eyes hover over Fyodor and his group for a moment, likely also overhearing that they are headed the same way. She doesn't seem at all bothered by this. In fact, that same vaguely amused smile appears on her face again as she looks at them.

---

Former site of Tir na Og, the Outlands

@Digizel @Rune_Alchemist

Arndell handed the halfling a couple of gold pieces at Raella's request, which the halfling proceeds to look a for a moment before shrugging and pocketing them. As Arndell hurries to follow after his lady, the pair might just be able to hear the halfling muttering, "Well, this'll be interesting."

As Raella approached the tent, she quickly notices there are several smaller tents surrounding it, all obscured by the fog which seems to be growing thicker by the moment. In front of the main tent, there is a small campfire being set up by a few people who could be guards, though they don't seem particularly invested in their job. A bugbear man in a mud-stained cloak in trying to light the fire, but the fog seems to have rendered the materials damp enough that it is hindering his attempts. Sitting on a fallen log, a dwarf warrior is being tended to by a somewhat scrawny half-orc. Most of the dwarf's face seems to be swelling up, as if he has been stung by something, and the half-orc is attempting to apply some sort of salve. The dwarf looks less than grateful, cursing loudly every time the half-orc gets too close to him.

"Harmyr, I was barely even touching you that time," the half-orc says.

"You're breathing on me too much," the dwarf Harmyr shouts back. "I don't need your fussing, you hear?!"

A few feet away, a brass dragonborn woman dressed in animal furs is pacing back and forth. Unlike most dragonborn Raella has likely seen, this one has a tail and it's swishing back and forth like that of an agitated cat. Eventually, the bugbear calls over to her. "Fire's a no-go! Therlxora, mind actually doing something useful and giving a helping hand?" the bugbear asks.

The dragonborn, Therlxora, does not cease her pacing. "I'm not wasting my fire just because you pansies can't handle uncooked meat!" she practically spits back. "Not when there's better things I could be using it for." As she's saying this, she seems to spot Raella heading their way and a nasty grin forms on her face. She quickly paces over to the girl, intercepting her so she's in between Raella and the camp. "What do you want?" she growls.

While his expression is hidden by his helmet, it's not difficult to see how giddy Vivir is made as Zyrech shows off his makeshift electrical attack, and he listens intently as Tanrith lists off the mechanical dragon's other abilities. Eventually, Vivir withdraws and returns to his spot next to Rhuk. "How come we don't make stuff like that in our forge?" he asks his companion.

Rhuk shrugs. "You're asking the wrong person, bud," they say. "Take it up with one of the blacksmiths, or heck even Pentar or one of the Doomlords."

"I'm not sure they'd go for it," Faelee interjects as she stands up back to her full height, taking a moment to dust the dirt off the bottom of her robe. "While they are always interested in new weapon designs, I find they tend to prefer things they can produce quickly and in bulk." She looks over to Tanrith. "I imagine it takes a good amount of time and precision to make something like that." When the kobold apologises to Sarceron, Faelee gives a chuckle. "Oh don't worry about his distaste. If it doesn't serve his sect or goddess, it very rarely interests him." While she is smiling and her words seem innocent enough, it doesn't take much for Tanrith to note there is a slight pointedness in what she just said towards the other firbolg.

Sarceron must have noticed it too, because his jaw clenches slightly. However, if Faelee is trying to bait him into an argument, he doesn't take it, and simply address Tanrith. "If what you say is true and your machine does no harm to the environment, then I suppose I have no real problem with it," he says. While he did seem initially angry at the kobold when he approached them, it's obvious that Sarceron bears Tanrith and Zyrech no real ill will, and any hostility he is showing is not meant for either of them. Sarceron himself even seems to become aware of this once Tanrith apologised, and is trying to reel back his antagonism.

"You two sure you're okay paying for this?" Ulgad inevitably asked while Riaen was off fetching the wine. "I could give some money back if you'd like."

"The offer is appreciated, but the coin matters not to me." Fyodor replied simply.

When Riaen returned with the wine, Fyodor listened as she gave her directions and advice, nodded his thanks to her once the wine was poured, and took up one of the glasses. "A toast." Fyodor declared as he raised his glass to his companions. "To our expedition, may it be as successful as it can be." With that said, Fyodor took a sip of his wine.

Beigeiros dug into his coin purse and pulled out two silver coins. "I'll buy four, one for each of my companions and myself. Do you have any blackberry flavored?" he asked as he set the coins down on the display and gestured to the others to pick out what they wanted. He looked over each displa, wondering which would be flavored most like blackberries.

Lady Norinthall

---

Seems these people here had a sizable force to work with. Or at least, a small handful of folks that could actually get things done if they wanted too. It still seemed rather silly for them to claim to make the all of Tir Na Ong to disappear, though. Before she could get a good sense of what was going on otherwise though, she was approached by a rather aggressive looking Dragonborn that was behaving more like an agitated cat than a dragon. Seems anyone outside of Sigil seems like they really needed to learn their manners. Well, what did she expect from country folk? It was a good thing she was an understanding and magnanimous noble that wouldn't take overt offense to such things.

"Ha...I'll forgive your rudeness since I'm a magnanimous noblewoman." Raella harrumphed. She'd wave her hand loosely, channeling her magic through her heirloom. Perhaps a small show of good will would make them more willing to talk? "So allow me to introduce myself. Lady Raella Norinthall of House Norinthall of Sigil, and I was on my way to Tir Na Ong to peruse their library, but what do I find when I get here? Its gone, and it seems like your merry band of ne'er-do-wells are taking credit for it." Raella was not intimidating by this dragonborn in the slightest, though whether that was a smart thing or not remained to be seen. The campfire that they were trying to start would suddenly light. A simple matter for her, really Prestidigitation was infinitely useful. "I came to verify the authenticity of those claims. You can thank me for the campfire, as well any time you want."

Sheer dread fills Zaraknvyr as Tabiah's gaze moves past him. He witnesses as her expression, infuriatingly, takes on the banality of her amusement. He envisions in his mind's eye the horrible visages of the Bleakers at his back. He seethes over the surmounting impossibility that avoiding them seems to be becoming before his very eyes. His uncomfortable gaze sweeps from Tabiah to Athar. He glowers, then meows once more;

"This female brings me agony, and yet her usefulness shall be my burden. I am thankful to have a reasonable companion in yourself."

He then abruptly rises, and turns to the company of Fyodor. As maddening as it may be, he declares thus;

"We go the same path. Let us avoid crossing blades when greater foes may be afoot. Your lot may join my party."

He smiles. A very discomforting, very toothy, smile. There. That ought to solve this issue before it could even begin.

The taste of wine... the only reminder of his homeland that Fyodor did not shy away from.

It had gotten him through many hardships in the past and he associated it with what few good memories he had of what had come before Sigil. Fyodor shut his eyes, a faint trace of a smile playing across his lips as the sensations of the crimson sweetness on his tongue carried him back.

Back to the day when he had shared a drink with Szoldar and Yevgeni, his mentors in wolf hunting, to celebrate the completion of his training. Back to the times when he and his best friend Doru, and occasionally his cousin Parpol if Fyodor could sneak him away from his uncle, would drink to celebrate the turn of the year and living to see it. Back to when he and his brothers had made a habit of rowing out onto Lake Zarovich one Summer to try their hands at fishing. None of them were any good at it, but that didn't really matter when the youngest brother was always quick to break out a bottle of chilled wine to cheer them up from their frustrations and cool them down in the heat of the sun... Wait... Fyodor was an only child... And the heat of the sun had never been a bother to him in all the years of his life.

Fyodor opened his eyes with a confused grimace on his face. For as long as he could remember, memories that weren't his had found their way into his mind every once in a while. He wasn't sure how or why it happened, and he had never been able to accustom himself to the intrusions. But aside from that, they had never been of any harm. They had sometimes been helpful even. Though they had become more and more frequent ever since he had escaped. Perhaps it was time he found someone knowledgeable in matters of the mind and got their opinion on-

"We go the same path. Let us avoid crossing blades when greater foes may be afoot. Your lot may join my party."

Fyodor's grimace of confusion became one of enmity as he turned to regard the Mercykiller that had just addressed him and his. The Jailers had a habit of making themselves a nuisance to the Bleak Cabal. That, along with the presumptuousness of this particular member of the faction was more than enough to draw Fyodor's ire.

And then he saw the fangs.

Fyodor set his glass of wine down on the bar as the fingers of his free hand closed around a flask of holy water tucked into a bandolier that lay across his torso. "The Bleak Cabal has an entire expedition making ready to depart from Ecstasy." Fyodor said as the hand that once held his wine glass moved to hover over a hammer dangling off his belt. "We have no need to join the party of a Mercykiller. Especially not one that is liable to drink our blood while we sleep."

The grin grows wider. Perfect. An excellently crafted and delivered scheme to dissuade them. Now all he had to do was strike the final nail into the coffin of this abhorrent potential union of their groups. Before anything could ever hope to disrupt his ambitions.

"Ah, I would ask your forgiveness for making assumptions, but it is my understanding that the Bleak Cabal were the hopeless sort who needed others to guide their hands and point their blades. If it is your desire to risk yourself and your neck for your pride, then far be it from Zaraknvyr of Arabndar to stop you."

He raises his mug.

"To the continued indecision of the Bleak Cabal. To the strength of their arms. May they sleep deep and dream full, indeed. May they gaze into the order of things and see nothing."

He licks his teeth, staring at Fyodor, and drinks of his mug deeply until it was empty. Then he placed it harshly upon the bar. Paradoxically, his own pride and unyielding disgust produces a somewhat moderate sentence next;

"Your blood is safe from me." His nose wrinkles. "So long as you do not get in my way, you are not my foe nor my meal. I pray you do not regret the day you turned away Zaraknvyr. Our path is one you may yet wish you had someone who had some actual convictions at your side."

Fyodor gave no reply to Zaraknvyr's words, simply moving his hands away from his implements of vampire murder once the fanged Mercykiller had shown he wasn't about to cause trouble and turning back to his wine once the Jailer had finished speaking. Fyodor didn't need to look at his compatriots to know that he had cared a lot more about what had just happened than they did. Unsurprising considering the fact that they were Bleakers. Being a Bleaker himself, Fyodor shouldn't have cared so much either. But fangs had been a weak point in the apathy he had been cultivating within himself as a part of the Bleak Cabal from the very beginning. Nothing in the multiverse mattered, Fyodor knew this. Yet no amount of focusing on this truth could change his reaction to reminders of where he came from.

Especially when that reminder was fangs.

Fyodor took another sip of wine, drinking slow and savoring every drop. Partially because he wanted to enjoy the taste of the wine and the pleasant memories it conjured, but mainly because he wanted to wait until some time after Zaraknvyr had left before going to the portal. If they were to be traveling in the same direction, Fyodor wanted as wide a gap between the two of them as possible.

Tanrith could do very little to hide the pride in his posture as he watched Vivir's reaction to his mechanical drake companion. His head held high, tail waving around behind him, he chuckled to himself as he heard the small group asking about why they didn't have something like this. He'd never gotten this much interest in his creations before. He had known Zyrech was a masterpiece for some time now, but to hear the praise from others was such a rare treat! They even recognized how much time and effort it took to make something like this!

The blue Kobold listened in to the conversation, a bit giddy himself...at least until Faelee makes that slight, pointed comment that caused him to return to reality again for a moment. "And what's wrong with not taking an interest in things? Everyone has things they like and don't. And maybe he's just used to people treating him or the wilderness poorly or something. I dunno him, so it's not like I can just say he's a jerk or anything. He seems reasonable enough to me, so why not give him the benefit of the doubt?" Tanrith asked curiously, tilting his head toward Faelee.

He turned to face Sarceron and nodded his head at him. "Thanks, by the way. I appreciate all that," he added with a bright smile on his face. "But now that she mentions it, she does make me curious about this sect of yours. I mean...from you said earlier, you must be from here, eh, Sarceron? Sorry to hear about what happened to your home, by the way. Must be really hard on you. I know people whose friends lived here too. And I can only imagine how annoying it must be to have all of these complete strangers coming to snoop around while you're still trying to grapple with that.

"But when you think about it, it's probably for the best, right?" He smiled, turning back toward Faelee once again. "I'm assuming the Doomguard is here to figure out what's going on just like the rest of us, right? Maybe if we all got along and cooperated with each other, we could get to the bottom of this faster. And maybe, just maybe...you could learn something about each other in the process~" Once he had said that, he turned back toward Sarceron again. "Take it from me: When things are bigger than you, you should take whatever helping hands you're given. Heh. And I should know. Everything is bigger than me!~"

Once he made fun of his own size, he allowed himself to laugh, resting one of his claws on top of Zyrech's head to keep himself balanced.

---

"I thank you for your kindness," Mariel said to her fellow Plane-Tender.

"Raspberry flavored, if you please," Mariel added politely to the hag, finding the unexpected generosity confusing and welcome all at once. Arcane magic held little appeal to her, but even a druid did not wisely pass up the convince of a prepared spell.

She hoped there would be no trouble. However, given the dark cloud that hung over her mood, she suspected there would be danger.

Aaliyah seemed to have frozen herself when the Bheur Hag addressed her and the rest of the party. She remembered her teachings from Ishaan about them, and how she saw them. In all honesty, in all of her lessons, she found herself unable to figure out what should be done.

They're cruel and they use their magic to make others miserable.
But they do have great knowledge and wisdom when it comes to survival and nature.
And this one is selling...ice cream? Why?
What do I do here?

Before Aaliyah even knew it, Beigeiros already paid for three cones of ice cream for them! Her eyes were wide and she started "Ah-! Ummm..." She wanted to tell her allies what she knows, but she does look to the hag, and realizes she shouldn't say anything unpleasant to offend the hag.

She ends up saying a shy, "Th-Thank you," to Beigeiros and the hag. The owl pecks her head again as though to say "Don't trust the hag! Don't eat the ice cream!!!"

Great Bazaar, Market Ward, Sigil

@Lurking Krog @Abstract Proxy @Guardian Angel Haruki

"We do indeed have blackberry," says the hag, indicating with a long fingernail towards a tub of purple ice cream.

"Ah, none for me, thank you," Lissandra says, raising her hand in front of her as Beigeiros offers to pay for ice cream. "After all, it would be improper for me to take advantage of such a deal as I will not be accompanying you." She taps her logbook. "My interests remain within Sigil, but I hope that your journey is a successful one."

The hag nods approvingly as she proceeds to scoop out three lots of ice cream: one from the purple tub, one from a tub of hot pink ice cream, and the final one, as Aaliyah didn't give an order, she hesitates, looking Aaliyah up and down before taking from a white tub which had little chocolate lumps in it. She handed out the three scoops and gave a big smile. "Hope you enjoy, and good luck on your journey!"

During this whole interaction, it seems Lissandra has located the portal key, a large, old coin, which she holds up. "Whenever your ready," she says. "You can choose to eat those now or after you've gone through the portal. I've heard those who are unused to this mode of travel tend to get a little queasy though, so, exercise your judgement carefully." She gives a small laugh which leaves into question how serious her warning is.

---

Ubiquitous Wayfarer, Lower Ward, Sigil

@rush99999 @Fading Memory

"To our expedition!" Ulgad cheerfully repeated Fyodor's toast, though he was the only other member of the group to do so. Jarret's response to Fyodor's toast was to immediately tip back his head and down his whole glass of wine. Wynvere merely gave a small nod to her comrades before taking a small sip of her drink. A keen-eyed observer might notice tiny ice fractals forming on the surface of her wine as she did so.

It was as they were enjoying their drinks that Zaraknyvr approached with an offer to travel together. Before any of them can respond, Fyodor cuts in and makes his stance about travelling with the drow clear. Seeing the human reaching for something, Ulgad quickly steos forward so he's between the two men.

Thankfully, the drow doesn't push his offer, withdrawing his services though not before making a cutting remark at the Bleak Cabal. Fyodor also took his hands off whatever weapon he had been readying. Ulgad looks between the two before settling his eyes back on Zaraknvyr, somewhat critically. "Listen, I have no problem with blood drinkers - I've seen, fought against and alongside far worse in my days - but your manners leave a lot to be desired, friend," the gnoll said. "Think I'll ask kindly that you give us a wide berth on the road ahead."

Jarret mumbles something vaguely affirmative into his wine glass, while Wynvere tilts her head curiously at Zaraknyvr... before quickly losing interest in him entirely and returning to her drink.

Tabiah watches this whole confrontation without speaking or really making an effort to intervene, merely raising an eyebrow at Zaraknyvr. Abasi gives a small irritable flick of his tail that implies he is aware of what's happening around him, but is very pointedly ignoring it. Tabiah must have noticed this because she gives him a small scratch behind his ear, which seems to calm him and his tail becomes still once more. Once it seems like a bar fight is not about to happen, the mage finishes her drink before standing up and approaching Zaraknvyr and the Bleakers. "We should be going now," she says gently to the drow. She gives a small nod to each member of Fyodor's expedition before motioning for Zaraknvyr to follow her towards the cellar. She opens the door, leading to a dimly lit staircase which she starts to descend. As she does so, Abasi raises his head to look at the drow, his yellow-green eyes seeming incredibly bright as the lighting around them gets progressively dimmer. "First impressions really aren't your strong suit, are they, elf?" the cat says.

Once the trio are partially out of the room, Ulgad turns his head towards Fyodor. "You alright, lad?" he says, placing a paw on the younger man's shoulder.

---

Former site of Tir na Og, the Outlands

@Digizel @Rune_Alchemist

The bugbear took a quick step back as the log in front of him suddenly caught light. "Oof, a little warning next time! Almost singed me fur off!" he says. However, once the surprise has worn off, a relieved smile forms on his face. He stands up before looking over to where Raella and Therlxora. "Leave off!" he calls to the dragonborn. "The girl's doing no harm."

Therlxora glares at Raella for a moment, smoke coming out of her nostrils as the noble's attitude seems to be grating on her. However, when she glances over her shoulder, she sees none of her allies feel the same - in fact, both the half-orc and dwarf seem to be pointedly ignoring her. She gives a snort and then turns away from Raella, returning where she had been pacing moments before.

The bugbear motions Raella over. "That's Therlxora. Don't mind her. She's just a little cranky because she hasn't gotten the chance to sink her axe into anything today." He grins. "I'm Rath." He points over to the dwarf and half-orc. "That's Harmyr and that's Brakon-"

"Doctor," the half-orc cuts in, though he doesn't pause from his work or look round as he does so. In fact, one gets the sense that this correction is in fact automatic.

Rath rolls his eyes. "Doctor Brakon Darkdraft," he corrects himself. "He's very insistent on that, apparently." He looks back to Raella. "Yeah, we're the ones who got rid of Tir na Og." He frowns. "Though, err, understand, none of us four were actually here when it happened. You'd have to talk to one of the higher-ups if you want to know the 'how'." He glances over his shoulder towards the large tent. "And they're a little busy at the moment. I don't know how they'd take you just waltzing in." He motions towards the campfire. "But you're welcome to sit here until they're done. We're just about to cook up food for the rest of the troops before we move out again."

Meanwhile, back at the lake, Tanrith's words did seem to give Faelee pause, as her teasing smile vanished when she realised that maybe, just maybe, her little jab at Sarceron during this moment was not entirely appropriate.

"Oh trust me, I know this woman well enough," Sarceron responds, somewhat coolly. However, when he glances over at her slightly ashamed expression, and then back at Tanrith's optimistic face, he gives a sigh. "But I suppose I can't really afford to turn away help at this time, no matter the source."

"And I do want to help," Faelee says.

"Hm," was all Sarceron could respond to that. He doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he withholds anymore cutting remarks he could have made. He looks over at Tanrith. "You mentioned just a little while ago that you have connections with the Wylders. My sect, the Plane-tenders, are... off-and-on allies of theirs. In fact, our sectol Cellach was last seen heading over to them to assist them. We haven't been able to get in contact with them since this all happened. You... haven't happened to see him over this past week?" He motions next to him to indicate a person of about six feet. "This tall, human, copper hair, fair-skinned, robes not dissimilar to my own, often carries a bow?"

"Great!" Tanrith exclaimed with a bright smile on his face. Shifting from his laughter back to addressing the conversation when they didn't seem to find his comment as funny as he did. Or maybe the timing just wasn't right. Well, whatever. He seemed to have gotten the two on the same page for now at least. "Then let's do our best and make sure we set things right, right?~"

He paused, however, when he heard Sarceron address him directly again. He paused and leaned back in his saddle, tilting his head and thinking about it. He shut his eyes and listened closely to the firbolg's description while he wracked his brains. However, despite taking a while to think about everybody he had met around the wilderness or among the Wylders...he had no choice but to shake his head.

"Hm...sorry, buddy, I can't say that rings a bell," he murmured, finally opening his eyes again. "I don't even think I've seen a human for a while now. I was hanging out in Faunel until not that long ago when I heard about this mess and came to investigate. I love those guys over there, a combo of cool and cute!" He grinned at that, but quickly realized he had started going off-topic. He cleared his throat and straightened himself out. "Ahem. Sorry, haven't seen or heard about your friend. But you say he was off to help the Wylders? Ah geez, I didn't even realize they needed help with anything. I should go find them when I'm done here. They were pretty cool guys when they helped me at least. I hope they're alright...."

"You alright, lad?"

Those words and the feeling of Ulgad's paw on his shoulder pulled Fyodor from his wine once more. "I... I am better now." Fyodor said after another sip of wine. "...Forgive my outburst. I try to remember what you told me about Sigil being different. I try to remember that I shouldn't even care. But... the fangs..."

Fyodor took another, longer sip of his wine as he tried not to think about the memories that fangs dug up. Memories of the fangs that glinted in the dark of the night. Memories of the fangs that hounded him in the wake of that ill-fated siege. Memories of the fangs that one of his older brothers grew after killing their youngest brother and drinking his blood.

Fyodor tipped back his head and downed the rest of his wine just as Jarret had, then took up the pitcher and refilled his glass nearly to the brim.

Beigeiros took the icecream from the hag and tried a small bit while Lissandra was explaining that some people get quesy when traveling through portals. The taste of the ice cream was like nothing he had eaten before. He, against his better judgment and advice from Lissandra, quickly ate the icecream.

"I'm ready when everyone else is." He said wincing some from the sudden pain that came from eating the icecream to fast. His head ached from the cold radiating from the roof of his mouth into his nasal cavity. "Oh that was probably a bad idea to eat they so quickly. Yup bad idea. That was still delicious." Beigeiros mutters to himself as he pushes through the pain of a brain freeze.

Lady Norinthall

---

"I see. A pleasure, Rath...Doctor Brakon." Raella wasn't really sure how to take this information. How could someone just make the entire city of Tir Na Ong disappear entirely? So quickly and suddenly without nary a peep from anything? She could perhaps beckon her patron and ask them if they had any information, but dealing with the squid was something she wasn't entirely fond of doing repeatedly. "Sorry to say I'm rather skeptical of your claims, but I am certainly interested in both the how and the whys. You've quite inconvenienced my trip to their library." She had half a mind to 'barge in' as Rath had suggested, but she doubted that would solve or do anything. At best she could potentially get close enough to eavesdrop. She could pretend to be Rath or Therlxora, but she wasn't familiar enough with either of them to give it any kind of proper performance.

So for now, she'd keep herself out of trouble.

"I suppose I could grace you with my presence while we wait. Don't suppose either of you have any tomes of questionable arcane origin or some such on you I can peruse, do you?"