Hyperion: Home, Office, and Armoury.

[Jherek Everfull]

Hyperion:

Lost in the infinite loop, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the Hive Ward, is the Hyperion. First glance would have you calling it a pile of rubble, a ruin or something like that. The sorta place what needs some serious jink to get looking presentable. Its old, plain as day its easily as old as the oldest knife ear nosing about the slums, some cutters say its as old as the whole cage. As old as the old rumble kip is, it's picked up a fair bit of history. Waggers say it was the home of no less than fifteen or sixteen barmey wizards, a dozen or so halo holders, and one or two right Hende Bloods. Left the place good and proper tickled...pulses with life and power. Full of it some say. Well, lets get to the important bit.

See, the Hyperion's last owner was a Musty old Spellslinger, called himself Ogbur the Unkillable. Ol'Ogbur was a cony-catcher that often left his new pets counting worms with the Dustmen. He fronted the Hyperion as a proper in for the clueless and leather headed berks spread across the ring. Once he got them in his walls he peeled them and exposed them to some sorta dark Ivory motivated tickling. He had a solid racket for several centuries, that is till he met the Young Master, call'em Iroas. 

Iroas had a baatezu load of galbas, the sorta courage that comes out only once in a while, what a primer would call once in a generation. He walked up and spiked that old Unkillable mage right in his own house. Yeah, see Iroas is some sorta do gooding pincher, from a family full of proper pinchers...Something like a 4th or 5th welping of deva touched rustler, a real stud. Anyways, he piked that musty Ogbur and put the old wizard in a not so good way. Turns out when you do that everything is on the table. So Iroas inherited a crumbling "inn" and that's where we find him now. 

He's spent the last week rounding up a fair number of clueless berks (his do gooding) and bringing them to his new digs. It's a kip enough place, a little dusty, full of plenty mold, and wicked chalked with locked doors. He's only managed to open a few dozen or so...but the old ruin has to have nearly a hundred of the things. The rooms he's accessed were what you would expect in a tickler's tower. A library, a lab, a place for rituals, a latrine, and a few bedrooms. His new companions have begun making themselves at home, adopting a room or two for their own and setting up stakes. 

The day starts like most others, with the group gathering to discuss plans? Things? Ideas? Purpose? Who know's what. What I do know is they are about to have a guest, and no one is really prepared for that. 

[Daos]

Iroas' room is not the largest or the nicest--that one was, of course, claimed by Tiriara.  It was small and sparsely decorated.  The bed was little more than an old mattress on the floor.  But that was how he liked it.  He did not seek luxury.  Such refinements would lead to softness, to contentment...to happiness.  And if he were happy, he might not care as much about the suffering of others.  He had seen it enough in his lifetime, and he would not allow it to happen to himself.

He steps out of his room, not bothering to lock it (there was nothing within worth stealing), and heads downstairs to the common room.  He finds that the ragtag group of Clueless he had inadvertently collected over the past couple of weeks were already there, mingling among themselves.  He had not grown accustomed to their presence yet.  It was strange, having other people around.  But he couldn't turn them away.  Were the Clueless not the most vulnerable, the most disadvantaged, of Sigil's citizens?  Besides, most of them would be eaten alive within days.  Literally, in some cases.

He walks to the bar and pours himself a drink.  Now they were in business together.  Or at least, theoretically.  They had yet to have any actual customers.  Nor even a name.  Iroas didn't have much faith in the idea, but it seemed to give the others purpose and keep them busy, at least for now.  He'd prefer to work alone, as he always had previously.  Attachments to other people...can lead to softness.

He looks out at the others, taking a nip of his drink, the light from a nearby window reflecting off the glass of his specs.  "Any business today?" he asks, leaning back on the bar.

[HorizonsDream]

Tall, empty bookshelves are the bane of Tiriara's current existence. There had been a couple of these bookshelves within her luxurious and spacious room full of dust mites and spiders in which she had spent several hours cleaning and polishing until they were as shiny as her pearly skin. Though, the process required her to actually climb up on a couple of the shelves to get to the very top due to the fact that she was rather short in stature. She had cursed under her breath during the whole process, but she got the job done without injuring herself. Though, while she had managed to make her room as spotless as possible, the rest of the Hyperion was in desperate need of cleaning.

When Iroas finally makes his appearance, she is standing on a chair (one in which she has spotlessly cleaned because she isn't going to sit or stand on a dust covered chair), cleaning another tall and empty bookshelf. Her pointed ears twitch slightly at the sound of Iroas' footsteps as he walks to the bar and pours himself a drink. She is usually keenly aware of what Iroas is up to even though she never actually turns to look at him as she continues with her cleaning task. Though, oddly enough, she is never really aware of all of the other newcomers in the Hyperion, just Iroas. She can barely remember the names of the newcomers.

A small frustrated sigh escapes Tiriara's lips as she tries (and ultimately fails) for the final time to reach the top of the empty bookshelf (which is going to serve as a filing system once they manage to get some clients). After dropping the rag she is cleaning with to the floor, she carefully steps off the chair, wipes the chair off, and sits down comfortably before finally looking to Iroas and answering him. "I would be surprised if we did have any business," she says. "It is hard to advertise for a nameless business." While speaking to others, Tiriara always has a bit of snootiness about her, but as she speaks to Iroas she is respectful and almost kind which is an odd contrast for the uppity elf.

[Ezeze]

Mas'erin has been no help at all in getting the inn livable. The opposite; his efforts to make his own space - the basement - comfortable have often lead to piles of trash pushed off into other, unoccupied spaces to be dealt with later (or not at all).

Technically his room is the largest. It's an entire floor, connected directly to the kitchen by a ladder in a way that implies it was originally intended to be a storeroom. The 'storeroom' theory is further supported by the remnants of metal shelving against the walls. They are too heavy for Mas'erin to move on his own, so they have stayed right where they are.

Though large the space does not meet several key requirements to be called a bedroom. Specifically, it lacks a bed. It also lacks windows, which is an asset to Mas'erin during the day and means that none of the other berks cared to challenge him for the space. He has scavenged a comfortably upholstered couch from somewhere within the tower as well as two chairs mismatched enough to be fashionable, a table he set between them, and a veritable horde of rugs and tapestries that ensure the space is warm despite the lack of fireplace. The basement is dirty, and dark - but pleasant enough if you can stubbornly ignore those things. Mas'erin is stubborn enough to ignore those things.

He has been up all night, but that's not unusual. Bright light bothers him, so he usually takes his trance during the peak of the day. It is unusual that he is sitting in the common room when Iroas comes in, watching Tiriara with a stoic mixture of wariness and feigned disinterest. He quickly dismisses both Iroas's question and Tiriara's response as not-my-problem.

[Daos]

"Hmm," Iroas says noncommittally before taking another sip of his drink.  "No visions then?  Guess I'll just patrol today and see what comes up."  If the powers that be don't have anything for him to do, that was always his backup.  Skulking out on the streets, beating up criminals, and brooding on rooftops.

[HorizonsDream]

"Well, if you do go out, take that thing with you," Tiriara's says, motioning to the dark elf sulking in a darker part of the common room. "He's been staring at me for I don't know how long now."

[GravityEmblem]

Jason opened his eyes just slightly and glanced at the wall in front of him, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it would turn out to be all a dream. But, just like the last 9 times, he saw nothing more than that patch of peeling plaster. He tried not to cry as he hid under the thin sheets of his new bed.

The last few days had been traumatic, to say the least. Their events rushed past Jason’s mind with perfect clarity-the coming of the Eternal Empire, his master sending him to Sigil, hiding out in the bookstore, being attacked by the demon, being saved by Ioraos, and finally, coming to this place to spend the night. Normally, his brain was wired for remembering facts above moments, but the string of events that left him with this agency was something that, try as he might, he could never forget.

Still, Jason thought of himself as one who didn’t let the past affect his future. He threw off his covers and left his room, attempting to find where everyone else was, then getting hopelessly lost.

[Daos]

"This new situation is...an adjustment for us all, I'm sure," Iroas states, tossing back the rest of his drink then setting the glass upside down on the bar.  "It will take some getting used to."  He knew that was especially true for himself.

[notARobot]

Sebastian has been quiet, these past...however many days it's been since his sudden planar transference, mental breakdown at the Bazaar, and subsequent rescue by Iroas and friends.  (...'days'?  Does this place even measure time-cycles in those terms?  Sebastian hasn't noticed any celestial bodies in the sky over Sigil so far, but then again, he has had a lot on his mind.)

He'd been briefly elated when Iroas had introduced him to the Hyperion's library: a long, narrow room with high ceilings and massive shelves on all four walls.  Sebastian quickly set about skimming through dozens of the various texts stacked thereupon, despite the dust-choked atmosphere and the peculiar lack of any windows in the room to let in natural light.  His excitement was short-lived, however; most of the books contained within the library seemed to be in languages he could neither read nor identify.  When it came time for him to find sleeping quarters, however, he still wound up resting his head in the cramped bedroom directly across the hall from the library.

Sebastian has just made his way from that very room, down the hallway and into the common room, at the same time as Jason was apparently doing the same -- they reach the common room almost simultaneously, to find Iroas casually sipping a drink and the two elves glaring banefully at one another.

"H-hello, everyone," Sebastian says, carefully avoiding making eye contact with anyone.

[HorizonsDream]

"I have to get use to someone staring at me all the time?" Tiriara asks curiously. "Well, I suppose I can understand," she says thoughtfully. "I am beautiful, after all." She takes a moment to flip some of her hair over her shoulder just to prove her point. It doesn't even occur to her that someone would be staring at her in a hateful way because her confidence (vanity) at this point doesn't allow it.

[Daos]

"Perhaps he's never seen a surface elf before," Iroas offers.  He nods to Sebastian and Jason when they enter.  "Getting used to things yet?" he asks.  Iroas knew well how difficult it could be for Clueless to wrap their heads around Sigil and the idea of other worlds.  Especially those from backwater worlds, like Krynn.  Although Tiriara seemed to be adjusting fairly well, all things considered, he could see that Sebastian was having a far more difficult time.  And the halfling, especially, had seemed traumatized by the transition.

[Ezeze]

Mas'erin had only been anywhere near Tiriana for a little while and did not think he'd been staring, but he'd rather put his knife through his hand than contradict her. It would probably be safer.

He averts his eyes, looking at anything other than the elf. Iroas's excuse was plausible enough and hadn't angered Tiriana, so he let it stand - even if it wasn't technically true.

[notARobot]

Jan 20, 2018 17:46:00 GMT -8 Daos said:

He nods to Sebastian and Jason when they enter.  "Getting used to things yet?" he asks.

"...used to things?" Sebastian echoes thoughtfully.  "Err...well, I, um - I mean, that is to say - no, I'm afraid not.  Not in the slightest."  He smiles sheepishly at his aasimar host as he confesses this.

"I- I suppose this is the sort of thing that takes time to grow accustomed to," he adds.  "I fear it may take a long time before this place makes any sense to me.  That is, um, assuming we don't find a way for me to get back to Krynn?"  Sebastian's voice rises in inflection during that last part, making it sound like a question.  "You don't...um, you wouldn't happen to know anyone who might be able to help me return there, would you?"

[Snacs]

The shadows seemed longer than they had yesterday. Fear did that. Sigil had seemed an adventure, another hunting trip like the ones she had taken with Father and his friends.

Only none of them were here. By her own choice. She couldn't allow herself to turn tail and run home at the first sign of trouble.

She'd been standing across from the Hyperion for almost ten minutes now, wracked by indecision. It had not been her first choice(it hadn't even been her third or fourth choice if she was honest), and the front the old building presented did not inspire the utmost confidence. The laughter at the guildhouses when she had given her funds still burned.

...Still, there was a strange charm about the place. And she was hardly one to judge anything on its looks.

Luckily for her the kindly Djinni she had met at the last guildhouse had thrilled to hear his native tongue spoken(And the way she looked pouring his drink as he spoke had certainly helped, she was sure). He had given her a name, Iroas, and an address, which she clutched on a small corner of parchment in her hand even now. He was strictly small-time, the Djinni had stated. But a good and honest Man by all accounts, and cheap.

She shifted the heavy backpack from one hand to the other, and glanced around nervously. She had to make a choice soon, or whatever had been stalking her might show up again.

Making up her mind, she crossed the street and walked up to the door. Drawing in a breath and hearing voices inside, she rapped firmly on the door and opened it, stepping in before her courage could fail her.

Jan 20, 2018 19:33:45 GMT -8 notARobot said:

"You don't...um, you wouldn't happen to know anyone who might be able to help me return there, would you?"

"Um, Hello? I'm looking for a Mister. ... Iroas?" She tried helpfully.

The woman before the group was young, tall, and statuesque(If said statues were the kind gracing the halls of a well-heeled brothel at least...).

She wore a scarlet cloak that hung across slender shoulders, the hood gathered up in a fringe around silken tresses that fell in waves around her head. A white, long tunic with blue checker-patterns along it went from shoulders to almost her ankles, tied off by a rich red sash at the waist. A number of pouches and weapons were cradled there, where they dangled off her hips. She was stunning, in the kind of way a caricature of a woman described in a Berk's cheapest copper novel was, all dusky skinned and doe-eyed the stuff of silk-lined harems.

An attempt had been made, as if some overbearing parent or champion of public decency had tried to drape her in a more innocent mannerism, but it was impossible to hide what was a creature built to fill a Berk's minds with thoughts.

[HorizonsDream]

Tiriara was on the verge of saying something to her home world...mate when she noticed the woman step inside their humble business/home. "Ah!" she said cheerfully as she stands from the chair she was sitting in. Gracefully, she walks over to the woman in question, and motions for her to take a seat anywhere in the couple of chairs that were clean and provided for potential customers, which Tiriara was assuming she was one. "Welcome to the Hyperion," she says. "Please, take a seat, make yourself comfortable, and tell us how we might be of help to you today."