Sigil: City of Doors

Chant around the Market, Hive and Clerk Wards tell about another movement. Each district tells different rumors and facts told by clueless and greybeards alike.

Hiver berks noticed that someone bought mounts in bulk, a rare commodity in Sigil. Too much for party of gatecrashers. All of them are sturdy and relentless.

Merkhants talk about several kinds of goods bought from them. Record keepers cannot hold out whispers about involved numbers.

Also, there is a notice for mercenary recruitment. Posters with promise of monetary compensation and place where the interviews are organized can be found in several Wards, and even Planes. Someone wants good able bashers for one job. There are some bad chants about it being organized by barmy drow. And some mention dark about her being Heartless.

Wuhi would follow the indications of one of those posters and see what the job is about

One would get directions to the Hall of Records. Looming tower full of dusty records, opportunistic egoists and sods who tried to trade for information inside it welcomed all visitors.

...As much as floor open for public could.

At mentioned table with floating library mimir, there was one woman. Sitting like she felt at home, this drow worn forlorn earthen garb, the only thing that looked like new being ribbon in her tied around bun hair.

Blue eyes of drow look up attentively, if one would try to wrest her concentration from scroll she had unrolled on table.



"How can I help you?"

the short woman clad in black and red plates, a rather big, bronzed, halfling woman as it is, would rise one of the posters to the drow's attention.

''yuh's the one looking fer bashers ? whut the job is?''

"Hmmm? Oh, you're about the job?" The drow chuckles, putting scroll aside.

"Yeah, I handle recruiting. Kinda. My employer wants the best guards for his caravan trip. It's not going to be too long, but dangerous enough."

"What?!"
The exclamation echoed through the Hall of Records, as Koren stared at the Fated in front of her with a look of disbelief on her face.

"You must be kidding me, you doddering berk! What do you mean you're fining me for excessive colours?!"


The man didn't seem too bothered by the tiefling outburst, and replied quietly as he handed her a ticket.

"Exactly what I said ma'am. If you want to walk inside the Hall, next time consider either hiding your hair, dying it in a more appropriate colour, or covering the most of your skin.
All the mentioned solutions at the same time will also work fine."


Koren stared incredulously at the ticket, now in her hand. She kept arguing animatedly with the Fated for a couple of minutes, until the man finally agreed (probably just to have her shut up) to change the subject of the fine from "eyesore" to "gorgeousness". At that point the tiefling just handed the man the jinx, pocketing the ticket, and proceeded with a satisfied look down the stairs to reach the place where she had heard the person handling the recruitment for that mysterious job could be found.

She stopped right next to the halfling, one would say probably on purpose as she herself seemed to stand almost 2 meters in height, and smiled brightly at the two women.

Now that she was closer, the reason behind the fine was at least obvious, even if probably still objectionable: with her long, orange flaming hair and her greenish skin just barely covered in fitting pants and a string-tied tank top, "eyesore" was probably the first concept one would use to describe her.



"I've heard someone's looking for cutters, is this the right place?"

She finally asked, glancing from one woman to another, the smile still on her lips.

"Another one?" drow pulled her scroll back to read it.

"Yeah, sure. Applicant number one, explain this to this new arrival. It is troublesome repeating it to those who come one after another." she pointed at hin, looking at her scroll.

"Now that I think of it, I should have waited for the rest before telling about the job." Fated mumbled.

wuhi pouted to the drow ''you shu'd have, yus'' then looks to koren , rising a sage ''lecturing'' finger to her :''caravan-guards-job-fer-not-overly-long-but-dangerous-trip'', not minding the woman's height

thus turns to the drow suddenly: ''whut's the pay?''

"Ah." Fated scratched her head, consdering something.

"My employer was offering two thousands of gold pieces. Of course, you are always free to negotiate price. Through me, that is." She added quickly.

''5000'' wuhi says