Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Xaos

As she walked towards the town, the stalks within the surrounding grain fields swayed in the breeze, but the orange crop wasn’t anything she recognised. The maturity in their song and the harvesting activity in fields closer to the town told her all she needed to know about the crops' state.

Renewing her aura’s concealments, Amdirlain walked towards the town at a slow, gliding pace. Having returned to her usual Wood Elf form during their transition to the Outlands, Amdirlain endeavoured to maintain a kata-like flow rather than the sexy strut she knew Femme Fatale could add.

Those around the harvesting wagons were a mixture of races but primarily a bipedal rodent-like species. They looked like lean grey rats from the tips of their furry ears, sharp muzzled faces, and thin pink tails that protruded from their rugged pants. They ranged in height from 130 to 150 centimetres, but their large pointed ears were at least ten centimetres of that tally. Their feet and hands looked proportionally large for their bodies and ended in clawed digits, callused pads, and chipped claws.

Scores of the Ratkin workers moved between those harvesting and the wagons, their quick pace outstripping other workers. The giant reptilian humanoids that worked alongside the rats possessed the blunted snout of a Komodo dragon and greenish-grey scales but, unlike the rats, each wore only a belt around the waist. They'd spread out ahead of the pack and walked the rows wielding large scythes, and the others followed in their wake, dividing the work of bundling and carrying between them.

As Amdirlain drew near, a Ratkin with silver fur lining his muzzle and a recurve bow in his hands, came forward to meet her. “Thanks for not walking through the fields, traveller. Are you destined for Xaos or somewhere else?”

His words were a series of chittering squeaks and clicks, but Polyglot translated the meaning effortlessly.

“I thought to stay for a time in Xaos. Who would I speak to about accommodations, to rent or buy?” enquired Amdirlain.

The Ratkin’s ears came fully upright and his whiskers twitched. “The buildings of Xaos are for those who’ve added to the community. You’ll find that any of the Inns typically have rooms to spare; I couldn’t say what arrangement they might offer for a longer-term patron.”

“I appreciate the information. Is there a workboard or person to speak to about what things the community needs to be done?” persisted Amdirlain.

His nostrils flared, and he tilted his head one way and the other in consideration before answering. “Matters get raised on council meeting nights, or the keep’s guards spread the word when things are more urgent. Given all the scents and lack of others you have about you, that’s all I’ll say.”

“I’ve hopped about a bit recently,” conceded Amdirlain. “I hope the rest of your day goes well. Might I keep following this laneway, or should I return to the last junction?”

“You’re free to pass, Elf-who-is-not-an-Elf,” stated the Ratkin.

Amdirlain raised an eyebrow. “Might I ask how you can tell?”

The Ratkin's muzzle crinkled again as he took another sniff. “Your flesh smells like an Elf, but you’ve no scent of sweat, urine, or shit about you or your clothing that matches your flesh’s scent. No Elf I’ve met grooms well enough to get rid of those completely, but since they’re scent blind, they never notice.”

“You can call me Am,” replied Amdirlain, noting to factor scent markers into future disguises.

The Ratkin gave a snorting squeak. “If we need to speak again, I’ll see if I remember it.”

With that, he stepped aside and motioned for her to pass.

Amdirlain gave a respectful nod and continued along the lane; avoiding the loaders, she quickly reached cleared fields. The laneway eventually butted up against an open grazing area before a series of marker stones that curved along the hillside's base. With the energy of the ward a dome over the town, Amdirlain turned and headed for the larger rocks on either side of the dirt road.

Though Mana Sense had displayed the ward’s strength the last time she visited, the song made it clear nothing Mortal had set these protections in place. The positioned stones formed an alternation in the barrier that recognised those who passed between them as guests as long as they made no move against the town.

Details that Mana Sense hadn’t revealed became clear, but the restrictions they set in place were few. Their primary concern was preventing large-scale attacks against the keep, the Portal, and their surroundings.

Pausing by the market’s edge, Amdirlain took in the trade occurring; the coinage exchanged being weighed and checked at each stall and a value offered on metal purity. Given that she saw very few coins that shared the exact same origin, let alone shape, it made sense though it was one step removed from barter.

The stall closest to her had lengths of fabric on display, but all dyed the same bright orange regardless of whether they had a velvet or burlap texture. Within them was a theme that seemed alien to the Plane and salted with Chaos, leading Amdirlain to assume they’d arrived by a caravan from Limbo. Perched on a high stool behind the counter, a mouse the size of a four-year-old Human with fur patterned like a tortoiseshell cat sat back on her haunches, a frilly white shopkeeper’s apron neatly tied around her waist.

The moment Amdirlain stepped close, the mouse’s whiskers perked up.

“Could you direct me to the inn closest to the keep?” asked Amdirlain.

Her whiskers slowly sagged, and the mouse waved a paw towards the hill’s peak. “Follow the main road until it brings the keep into direct sight, then take the first left instead of going on to the keep, big white building. You can’t miss it. Are you in need of any cloth?”

Amdirlain kept a straight face as she looked over the bright array. “Do you normally only have one hue?”

“The first cloth delivery in months and it's all Chaos touched, so it won’t dye properly until it fades,” grumbled the mouse.

“Any colour you’d prefer it to be?” asked Amdirlain. “To thank you for the directions.”

“Can’t magic it different colours either,” explained the mouse, and gave an exasperated chitter.

“Pick a colour and a bolt. If I fail, I’ll buy the lot myself,” offered Amdirlain.

The mouse almost pointed at a rich velvet cloth but gestured towards a cotton-like one instead. “A leaf green that matches your eyes.”

Chaos Shaping let Amdirlain tap into the residual energy within the cloth; caught within the grasp of her Willpower, the colour was forced to change. The orange disappeared in a rush, but Amdirlain continued pushing until the shaping had consumed the remaining power.

“No Mana? How?”

“I’ve spent some time in Limbo and received instruction in Chaos Shaping,” explained Amdirlain. “It will take a dye now that the energy is consumed.”

The mouse squealed in delight and danced happily atop the stool. “Thank you kindly. May your day go well.”

“I didn’t say I’d only do one; that was just an example,” insisted Amdirlain. “Pick the colour for each bolt, it won’t take me long.”

The mouse pointed at the velvet. “Sky blue.”

“Just go through and tell me all the colours you want, and then I can do it in one go,” suggested Amdirlain.

The mouse’s gaze went wide, and she tapped her claws together, her whiskers twitching excitedly. Hopping onto the countertop, she skipped between the bolts, rattling off the colours as she pointed or patted each.

A minute after the mouse finished naming the last colour, the stall was a rainbow of hues, and Amdirlain gave her a wave before she went to depart.

“What should I call you, traveller?” asked the mouse before Amdirlain had lowered her hand.

“Am will do fine,” replied Amdirlain.

The mouse patted a bolt of velvet that was now a royal purple. “My name’s Trill. You can take that one with you, one called Am.”

“I was happy to help, and you gave me directions,” declined Amdirlain. “I hope your sales improve.”

Though the mouse chittered a further protest, Amdirlain set off weaving through the busy market. Following the mouse’s instructions, Amdirlain followed the main road as it curved through the town. When the keep came into sight, she swept Resonance with a narrow focus through the hillside’s depths and caught the Portal’s connection to the chaotic Plane of Limbo. Though they’d wrapped it in numerous wards, it was distinct enough that she’d be able to study it from a distance.

Satisfied with what she’d found, Amdirlain proceeded towards the inn. Trill’s description of it as a big white building didn’t do the inn justice, as it stood out among the exotic structures around her. The inn looked like someone had poured a fluffy cloud into a glass box, and the only thing that broke up its appearance was its signboard and an oval wooden door.

The signboard hovered above the doorway, unmoving in the day’s breeze, and displayed an archway filled with purple light. While the front door was a simple wooden oval of golden oak laying on its side with no handle or seam in sight, it wasn’t obvious how it opened.

Using the excuse of its unusual appearance, Amdirlain stood outside the inn studying its construction while Resonance let her delve into its inner wards. The soft white mist swirled and ebbed within the wall, and Amdirlain’s gaze traced the patterns it formed within the precisely maintained walls of force. Finding nothing threatening within the wards, she pushed on the centre of the door, and it slid a few centimetres inwards before being drawn upwards into the wall.

With only the lower crescent of the oval showing, Amdirlain considered the foyer that continued the fluffy, airy theme: solid white ceiling and walls, with a soft, deep pile rug of pure white that looked like an invitation for a child to spill a berry juice or stomp about with dirty feet. Behind an irregularly edged counter, a translucent humanoid figure barely glanced up from the wooden discs splayed across the surface.

As she stepped inside, her feet sank into the rug, and it felt like stepping on a giant marshmallow. Though her boots had picked up dirt on the trek through fields, the rug’s enchantment repelled the stains on her shoes and clothing back out the door.

As Amdirlain closed the door, the figure slid another disc from a box that looked like a casino card dispenser and snorted before balancing the new disc across two already in the pattern.

[Name: Wisp

Species: Aerial Servant

Class: Maid / Merchant

Level: 10 / 10

Health: 160

Defence: 30

Melee Attack Power: 20

Combat Skill: Air Strike [B] (5)

Details: Currently employed by the owner of the Blazing Portal in Xaos, Wisp was summoned to the Outlands when newly manifested within the Elemental Plane of Air; they’ve been finding the entertainments of fleshy folk addictive.]

Amdirlain moved to the counter across from Wisp and looked over the asymmetrical pattern burnt onto the back of each disc. “Would it be possible to get a room?”

“Please close the door if you intend to stay; there is a handle on the inside at the bottom,” stated Wisp, her focus still on the discs when Amdirlain approached.

“I already did that.”

Amdirlain’s response caused the figure’s shoulders to slump, and she received its full attention. “Bother. Well, it's also apparently possible to get the bottom layer of the tower to a twelve-grid without having to stack, but the best I’ve managed in weeks is this seven-by-eight grid. Do you think the playing guide is incorrect?”

“I’ve never played.”

Setting the box beside the pattern, Wisp reached beneath the desk and brought out a ledger. “Do you wish for a room to stay in for a time, or was your enquiry purely theoretical?”

“I’d like to rent a room for an extended stay.”

“How would you be paying for your stay?”

Amdirlain carved a two-metre strip the width of her palm from the mithril slab she’d stored and set it on the shimmering countertop without a word.

The translucent figure’s gaze lingered on the metal. “Would you like that on your account for accommodation only, or do you want us to open a tab for the inn’s food service as well?”

“I only need a room. Do you have one with plenty of sunlight?”

“The rooftop suite is available and provides a view in all directions from its windows. Yet even at its price, if that is pure mithril, you’ll have it for hundreds of days.”

Amdirlain divided the rest of the slab by putting down eight more equally sized strips.

Wisp sighed and motioned to her game. “I’ll have to speak to the owner. Please wait, and don’t let anyone advance the tower.”

“I’ll guard it with their life,” joked Amdirlain.

“Thank you, but please don’t kill anyone inside the foyer; there is a limit to the stain resistance.”

Nothing in Wisp’s appearance gave away if it was simply going along with Amdirlain's joke. Before Amdirlain could ask if they’d had trouble in the past, it disappeared through an open section in the rear of the foyer’s ceiling.

Only a few minutes passed before a rush of air sped through the opening, supporting the descent of a voluptuous female Elf with albino skin, red eyes, and raven-hued hair with silvery motes. Her full curves were constrained within the nearly transparent fabric used in her pants and tight top. Though she had several variations on the Wizard Class theme, none were a Prestige Class despite their strength. The Elemental aspect within their music gave away that she’d earned various specialised Wizard base classes.

Seeing the mithril still stacked on the counter, she practically pounced from the lift shaft to the reception desk. Though she carried no visible weapons, Amdirlain could hear defensive enchantments on mithril bands around her upper arms, barely hidden by her long sleeves. At her appearance, Amdirlain shifted professional disinterest to Dominion, which had the Elf’s jaw snap shut.

“Hi, I’m the owner’s representative. Feel free to call me Fanya,” Fanya offered, and she diplomatically forced herself to ignore the mithril. “Now, what is it that I can help you with?”

Fanya's greeting was in an Elven dialect that Amdirlain hadn't heard before, and she found one aspect of Polyglot translation amusing—Fanya meant white cloud.

“Call me Am. Your receptionist suggested the rooftop floor but wasn’t sure how long a stay this mithril would cover.”

[Name: Tinnith “Fanya” Shadowglade

Species: Mist Elf

Class: Wizard / Storm Elementalist / Illusionist / Gravitational Prefect

Level: 60 / 40 / 35 / 33

Health: 1,344

Defence: 322

Magic: 201

Mana: 62,496

Melee Attack Power: 87

Combat Skills: Dagger [Ad] (23) - Various affinities and Spell lists. Enhanced affinities: Water, Air, Light, Lightning, and Gravity.

Details: A Journeyman to a planar wanderer, Tinnith supervises the inn while her teacher is out exploring. Her people developed rites that heighten affinity levels though the process doesn’t allow for including oppositional affinities.]

“Well, that would certainly depend on the purity. The suite allows a full view of the township, but many find the constant sunlight of the Outlands a bit much,” cautioned Fanya, clasping her hands behind her back to avoid reaching for the mithril. “The exception is plant-based life forms or those comfortable sleeping in magical darkness.”

Amdirlain nodded in relaxed appreciation of the warning. “While I’m not a plant, I can meditate in bright light, so resting isn’t a problem. Feel free to examine it; you’ll find it’s pure mithril, though its native attunement is the Elemental Plane of Fire.”

As Amdirlain finished her invitation, she heard the wards warn Fanya that her mental state was being unexpectedly shifted. The wards had gauged it by monitoring Fanya rather than touching Amdirlain or registering her Power.

“The wards are warning of a mental influence; I’d appreciate it if you’d cease it,” demanded Fanya.

Amdirlain stopped the projection and went utterly still. “My apologies. I was using a Power to counter the effect of a Skill I came to possess. The projection should have helped you focus past its distraction.”

“Were you using it outside?” queried Fanya.

“I was, but I’d been projecting different emotions before I entered; I was concerned they’d interfere with your business judgement one on one,” clarified Amdirlain, her words conveyed via a magical projection.

Fanya’s gaze narrowed, and her lips twisted sourly. “What was the Power you were using?”

“It was a Power called Dominion projecting professional disinterest,” admitted Amdirlain.

“Never do that to me again. Only after it stopped did I realise someone had taken my sense of humour out and beaten it to death,” declared Fanya.

“My apologies, that’s the most extreme reaction I’ve gotten from anyone,” commented Amdirlain. “Then again, it was the first time I tried disinterest; last time was a more calm reassurance.”

“Perhaps avoid experimenting on anyone else in town; we’ve enough wizards that’ll do that at the drop of a hat,” advised Fanya. “Why did you try that emotion with me?”

“This is your workplace; I thought keeping a professional focus was suitable,” Amdirlain sheepishly admitted.

“If being cold and disinterested is what you think suits a workplace, I never want to be employed there,” huffed Fanya

“I’ll just remain completely still while we discuss things then,” said Amdirlain.

The admission caused Fanya to give Amdirlain an appraising look. “You’re not alive, are you? At least not biologically alive, more an amalgamation of planar energies that’s developed a personality, as my master puts it.”

It was a unique way to describe an Outsider's situation—even if it didn't apply to her—and Amdirlain had to suppress a laugh. “That is one way to describe it.”

“What does the Skill do?”

“If I’m not careful, it causes me to react to another in a fashion that is sexually suggestive,” admitted Amdirlain.

“The owner also owns a dance hall in town,” blurted Fanya before she waved at the mithril. “Not that it seems you require funds.”

“A friend suggested I work behind a bar serving drinks to push the Skill’s evolution in a different direction.”

Fanya frantically shook her head. “Not behind the bar at the dance hall. Everyone would watch you, and the dancers would want to kill me for hiring you.”

“I would be more in need of a quiet establishment where I can lend a sympathetic ear,” clarified Amdirlain.

“While there are many establishments in town, aside from supervising the inn and dance hall, I don’t get out much,” replied Fanya, still keeping a wary eye on Amdirlain. “You hold yourself so still it's eerie; a cross between a temple statue and something about to prey on an unwary victim.”

“I’d use Charisma to project calmness instead, but your wards might object to that as well,” suggested Amdirlain.

“A lady of many talents. What’s your Home Plane?” asked Fanya. “I’ll admit you have my teacher’s wards a touch confused.”

“That’s a bit of a personal question, and maybe it's because I have a few options of places to call home, Acheron among them,”

“The eternal battlefields. Are you here to pick fights in Limbo?”

Amdirlain gave a fierce smile. “I plan to deal with many foes in Limbo and the lower planes; I wanted a base where I could return to enjoy the sunlight. My first stop from here would be speaking with friends living in a monastery in Limbo.”

“Those monks are your friends?” enquired Fanya.

“Some of them are; others don’t like me very much,” offered Amdirlain carefully, trying to be truthful without exposing secrets that weren’t hers.

“In general terms, can I ask why they don’t like you?”

“It was a matter of politics and a death challenge levelled at me that ended up being declared unlawful,” admitted Amdirlain with a shrug. “That put more noses out of joint.”

Her words drew a laugh from Fanya. “Alright, tell me a lie.”

“Your skin is as dark as your hair,” quipped Amdirlain.

Despite the blatant lie, the wards told Fanya nothing, and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I can let you stay.”

“You’ve truth detection in the wards, and they can’t read me,” observed Amdirlain. “They warned you about the change in your mental state, not because they detected what I was doing. I don’t believe they can even tell I’m standing in the foyer.”

Amdirlain’s statement caused the pulse in Fanya’s neck to leap, and she carefully licked her lips.

“Which means they wouldn’t know if I came back in, which makes you worried. If you’re uncomfortable renting me a room at full rate or more, despite the length of time I’ll need a home base for my work, then I’ll leave,” said Amdirlain.

Swallowing, Fanya lets out a slow breath. “Just like that?”

“Yes,” intoned Amdirlain, and she took in the rapid shifting tones without Fanya’s song as the Elf whispered prayers to a deity Amdirlain didn’t recognise under her breath.

“How long do you think you’ll need?” enquired Fanya, and her hands twitched out to sit at her sides. “A length of time is very open.”

“A few centuries or until I wear out my welcome?” proposed Amdirlain. “I don’t need a lot of space. I was mostly after a place to sit peacefully, meditate, plan, and enjoy the sunlight between battles. Stating my preference for sunlight had the Aerial Servant suggest the rooftop suite.”

“The rooftop suite is a central section with four bedrooms, a sitting area, a small library, a private kitchen, and wash facilities that can cater to a few dozen species. The rest of the roof is open to the sky, and the walls are transparent force barriers, so you’ve got that clear view,” explained Fanya.

“Are you worried about me stealing the books undetected?”

“No. More you being able to kill everyone in the place and the wards only detecting our cooling bodies,” retorted Fanya, and she eyed Amdirlain nervously.

“My goal is to help mortals, not have innocent blood on my hands,” said Amdirlain, keeping her voice slow and soft. “But you only have my word for that since the wards can’t tell if I’m lying. I see three options: I can leave now, you can contact your plane-wandering master, or you can rent me the room at a rate to make up for the anxiety I’m causing you.”

“You’d let me price gouge you?”

“Compensating someone for anxiety and stress isn’t gouging. Would five times the standard single stay rate do?”

Fanya sputtered at the offer. “That’s outrageous. That’s not letting me price gouge you; it's more on the level of squeezing marrow from someone’s bones.”

“If it helps you or your master further your magical studies, that sounds like a good way to use the mithril.”

“That’s ridiculous; you don’t know me,” exclaimed Fanya.

“I don’t, but I can tell the state of your Soul, and I find nothing there that warrants violence from me and much to encourage. I don’t know the deity you worship, but I can tell your reverence for them blends well with your intellectual curiosity and sense of adventure. Your four Wizard classes are interesting, as are the rites you’ve undergone to deepen your affinities. I’d never heard of such rites, but the Titan’s realm is a big place,” reported Amdirlain. “The sight of the mithril spiked a touch of greed, but likely from all it can enable you and your master to do rather than lusting for material wealth itself.”

Blinking owlishly at Amdirlain, Fanya clasped her hands to the side of her head. “Fine, you can stay. Likely if I told you to leave and you are murderously inclined, you could enter undetected and kill me.”

“Luckily for both of us, I’m not,” responded Amdirlain.

Fanya laughed nervously. “How is it lucky for you?”

“If I ever became the sort of being inclined to such deeds, I’d be disgusted with myself,” explained Amdirlain.

The racing pulse in Fanya’s neck eased off significantly, and she took a shuddering breath before she spoke again. “That’s strangely reassuring. After I check their purity, I’ll open a tab. We’ll start with full price on the suite at a full occupancy rate for the first thirty days. If you don’t bring trouble to the inn, we’ll reassess that rate every thirty days after that. If you leave, you don’t get the remains of the tab back; it will be here when you come and stay again.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“And you don’t work at any of the currently popular drinking places that have any sort of in-house entertainment aside from wandering bards,” stated Fanya.

“Worried I’ll draw the dance hall’s business away?”

Fanya gave a sharp nod. “Absolutely, or drive everyone away in fear.”

“Agreed. If I take that approach, I’ll find work in a simple bar.”

Fanya breathed a sigh of relief and checked the mithril with a detection Spell. Shaking her head in disbelief, she touched a signet ring to each, and they vanished through a one-way dimensional rift. “Yes, fine. Flame-aligned pure mithril, as you indicated. Now let me show you your suite. You can use Charisma projection when you follow, as long as it's calm that you’re projecting; I could do with some calm.”

“I’ll stick to that then,” agreed Amdirlain.

Turning slightly, Fanya motioned towards the hole in the foyer’s ceiling. “This way, please, the lift will take us to the floor below the rooftop; there is a set of stairs from there.”