A boarding house named “The Starving Starling” opened up in the hive not too long ago, run by two half orc brothers– Braax (NG Expert L4) & Braan (NE Rogue L2). Braax runs the front of house and is the only face patrons associate with the place. Braan does the finances, organises supplies, etc and is rarely seen. Neither of the brothers are especially bright but Braax is quite likeable and outgoing. Braan by contrast is surly and snappish if spoken to and avoids contact with patrons where possible.
Lothem of TrathiaAge: 48Gender: maleRace: Prime-Human, Elorian Height: 5`5”Weight: 477lbsBuild: heavy (hugely, grotesquely fat)Skin: an unhealthy black-greyish tinged Eye Color: blackClothing: Usually only a terribly sweat stained but well kept white toga-like article and sandals under a similiarly sweat stained white set of thick woolen robes, complete with fetishes and fetch objects, trinkets and baubles and other assorted such “junk”
Sigil is a city that exists on many levels, and casts its reflections into other realities that exist parallel to the Material Sigil. They resemble the reality of other planes (all transitive planes) but they aren’t parts of these planes. An Ethereal or Shadow Sigil is not at all connected to the Ethereal or Shadow Plane. Instead they are reflections of Sigil, co-existing with the material form of Sigil.
Sigil's Ethereal Reflection
While Sigil is misty and foggy enough, it is even more so over here.
Overview:Part guild and part secret society the Ishtaritu have existed for eons on Sigil, Elysium and many other places across the planes.
Now the Ishtaritu is the actual name of the priesthood or sacred prostitutes of the goddess Ishtar. They aren't exclusively a religious sect to Ishtar, as many of their members are non-religious or revere other goddesses such as Freya, Aphrodite and the like. They are mostly matriarchal, but they aren't exclusively female; it's just that most of their members are female. They are also a support and advocacy group for prostitutes.
Recommended Levels: n/a Born in the Great Swamp, in an obscure Prime Material World known as Terra, Ravel has gone through a life of hardships. The Sacred Swamp is the home of a hardy and religious people. The life is harsh, natural resources are scarce and valuable. Their only source of entertainment is the underground arena.
Jimmy pulled up his left pant-leg to expose the array of metal bars that had recently replaced his shin-bone. Pug leaned his head back, popped open his jaw, and reached down into his throat to pull out the menacing and thick stock.Reaching into his empty eye-socket, Charlie fumbled about before fishing out a triggering mechanism from that gaping void.
"Shouldn't we be helping with the search?" Jeremiah asked."We are helping. This alcohol isn't going to drink itself, you know." To prove this, Draken took a particularly delicate sip of his glass."I just feel a little guilty, you know. Everyone else is off looking for the bride, while we're...""While we're making sure this sherry doesn't go to waste. Really, Jeremiah, you need to get your priorities straight." Draken finished his glass, reaching for the next bottle.
There was a fairly unpleasant place known as Baator. It was so unpleasant that they had to divide it up into 9 layers just so that it would be big enough to hold all that unpleasantness.Upon one of the many layers of Baator, there was a charred and twisted tree that bore only the most vile of fruit. From this fruit one could pluck small, blackened seeds, and if one knew where to plant them, they could grow into wretched things.
"Explain this to me again."It is very simple."Oh yes, very simple. Easy peezy," The baatezu with the oil-slick suit grinned. "I just waltz in to a building filled with some of the most sharp cutters around, snatch an immensely powerful artifact right under their noses, then waltz out. Like one-two-three, a-b-c."An eye squeezed out from the crack in the alley's wall. I will help you, it whispered. It always whispered.