A small, cozy room in the Foul Olde Spirit Inn is crammed tight with books, scrolls and carved tablets of all kinds. In the center of this organized mess sits Magus Nefris Tethliira, poring over the most eminent tomes and scrolls penned regarding the elusive Rilmani. In particular, the Abiorach caste of the concordant outsiders piques her interest, especially given her fascination with and study of the Inner Planes.
Immune to callings, summons, and binding, and prone to nomadic wandering across the Inner Planes, finding one would doubtless prove a difficult pursuit...but not impossible.
In her subsequent and frequent forays into the Quasi-Elemental Plane of Salt and the Elemental Plane of Earth, she binds and interrogates various mephits on any recent sightings of said Rilmani. She'd also take time to corroborate the tales of the Salt mephits with the residents of Toil and those of the Earth mephits with a few Dominated Terran dwarves. She'd round out her search with a bribe here and there to the Khaasta of the Outlands.
((She's basically looking to make contact with an Abiorach to see if a profitable partnership might be forged where she can make jink and serve the cause of Elemental Balance in the bargain.))
Seeking An Abiorach
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*Xndar
- Posts: 282
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Nefris takes a deep breath and steps through the flaming portal and into the ultimate inferno, the source of all furnaces, candles, heat, burns and warmth in the multiverse.
She stands still, obsidian flats crunching slightly underneath her prosthetic metal feet, and unwarded (save those that keep her clothing from bursting into flame) as she lets the flames, boiling air and choking fumes wash over her skin. Sweat beads at her bare scalp and is licked away by a thousand hissing tongues of steam, cleansing her mind of weakness and worry even as her own body begins to succumb to its simple human frailty.
With a thought and uttered command, the overwhelming heat is shunted aside and the furnace becomes a sauna. Properly protected from the elements, and following the reluctant guidance of a bound fire mephit, she makes her way to the ferry.
While riding the ferry toward the legendary City of Brass, she questions the captain and crew of the ship as much as she dares, inquiring after their usual cargo and whether any beings fitting the description of an Abiorach have or make a habit of using their services.
When the ferry finally weighs anchor at the City's docks, she sets off exploring immediately. As she walks the streets she constantly finds herself running through her prodigious memory for all the known protocols for greeting and interacting with the Efreet, knowing that the slightest miss-step could easily spell years of indentured servitude.
Eventually she finds her way to the Bird of Paradise, pays for a room, meal, and drink (along with an extra garnish to the barkeep to alert her to any visiting Abiorachs), and settles herself at a comfortable booth in the bar area with a good view of the majority of the patrons coming and going.
She stands still, obsidian flats crunching slightly underneath her prosthetic metal feet, and unwarded (save those that keep her clothing from bursting into flame) as she lets the flames, boiling air and choking fumes wash over her skin. Sweat beads at her bare scalp and is licked away by a thousand hissing tongues of steam, cleansing her mind of weakness and worry even as her own body begins to succumb to its simple human frailty.
With a thought and uttered command, the overwhelming heat is shunted aside and the furnace becomes a sauna. Properly protected from the elements, and following the reluctant guidance of a bound fire mephit, she makes her way to the ferry.
While riding the ferry toward the legendary City of Brass, she questions the captain and crew of the ship as much as she dares, inquiring after their usual cargo and whether any beings fitting the description of an Abiorach have or make a habit of using their services.
When the ferry finally weighs anchor at the City's docks, she sets off exploring immediately. As she walks the streets she constantly finds herself running through her prodigious memory for all the known protocols for greeting and interacting with the Efreet, knowing that the slightest miss-step could easily spell years of indentured servitude.
Eventually she finds her way to the Bird of Paradise, pays for a room, meal, and drink (along with an extra garnish to the barkeep to alert her to any visiting Abiorachs), and settles herself at a comfortable booth in the bar area with a good view of the majority of the patrons coming and going.