Sigil Day 2

The air is cold tonight it would have been difficult to sleep if you weren't all squeezed in this small room. After a small late-night dinner you decide to split up starting next morning. Ids Ke, the modron, Saru, Worple Lemon and Tag Chi' Git will look for a place to call base and a portal to Mechanus to send the modron home. You vote to meet the following evening at Interplanar Importers to check in.

Brilligh: Alright, now mark this: I want a nice room for a change, and make sure there's room enough for me & Peter to do our work. [She swipes at anyone who makes a snide remark] We're gonna try to get some magic written for Karzoaka, you rusting sods.

After the discussion everyone starts to fall asleep. Thoughts of your battle at the High-Point in Crux and the hike through Funeral trouble your dreams, but due to your fatigue you do not wake up once. Until.....

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

The sound surprises you out of your slumber, finding yourself in this strange, unfamiliar room causes a moment of disorientation. Wiping the sleep from your eyes you hear whispering at the door.

Flederoth: Hallo.... The time has come for waking. Please to wake up. We need to exit this place now. You can't stay here long.

Snatch: YOU JUST SCARED THE... WHERE ARE WE?

Clymenstria: Morning Fled, up all. Let us make haste. [Stands streaching, in the small space, an impression of bumps and lines from where her head lay upon the back spine of Snatch] We've much to accomplish (yawn) so let us away. [straps her armor on, her lips moving in a blessing, each movement and fasten a prayer to Athena. She then gears up for the day]

Snatch: (to peter, quietly) DO YOU THINK SOMEONE WANTS US ALREADY FOR SOME PAST THING? WHAT IF SOMEONE WANTS TO PUT ME BACK IN THE FIGHTING SHOW!?

Brilligh: WOT??! [Her hand whips towards her leather sack of iron filament and nearly sends a sizzling missile at the door.] Flederoth? What the rust? You almost bit the iron, berk. [She glances down and notices a black deflated glove hanging at the wrist of her left arm. As everyone begins to ready themselves to leave the room, Brilligh quietly takes a lizard's tail from her bag of holding and slips it into the glove. She turns her back to the room, pushing her scarred stump deeper into the suede glove until she feels the lizard's tail, and mutters under her breath:] It's one microscopic cog in my catastrophic plan, designed and directed by my lost left hand. [The glove snaps into shape, and she buttons the edge to the sleeve of her robe, clenching and flexing it slowly.]

Outside it is a downpour. The streets are have streams of dirty brown water flowing into drains. A group of Dabus, seemingly unconcerned with the rain, float about unclogging the grates. The citizens run about with umbrellas and oiled rain clothes. The heavy rains together with a thick fog reduce visibility to about 50 feet.

Flederoth: [hands PCs umbrellas] That is a place is where you cannot stay too long. We will be going for a walk today. Please to let me show you around my city. My payment to you. Here is the Lady's Ward, smart cutters like you should go to the Friendly Fiend on the border of the Lower Ward. You are bloods, there are magics there. Come Pfepftzet let us go to there now.

Peter: Much thanks to you Flederoth, I could use this umbrella. It's good to be in Sigil once again. Brilligh I need to speak with you when you have a moment.

Brilligh: [scowling at the downpour] this city's charms never end...[waves away the umbrella, as the wide brim of her hat does fine in keeping her dry] Yes Peter? Do you know of this place Flederoth speaks of?

Clymenstria: Bless you.

As Flederoth speaks Aranya enters with slick black looking oiled canvas rain gear on her goat-body. She carries a fancy umbrella with all the frills and pomp as would be fitting to a priestess of partying. Behind her are two Formians, intelligent ant like creatures. Their black chitin is adorned with jewelry they wear in between their carapace joints. The Formians carry her goods in the back of a wheeled cart. She tells you their destination: the Guildhall/Market ward.

Once on the main street it is as if you are in a pageant. Then the sound of horns.

Minder1: Make way! Make way! Chamberman Ballachs is coming! [blows horn]

[crowd parts]

Minder2: All accusations made against Chamberman Ballachs are false!

Minder3: Tis the Dark! Tis the Dark! Chamberman Ballachs speaks the Truth!


Minder1: Make way! Make way! Chamberman Ballachs is coming! [blows horn]


Minder2: All accusations made against Chamberman Ballachs are false!


Minder3: Tis the Dark! Tis the Dark! Chamberman Ballachs speaks the Truth!


Three men with fancy capes displaying heraldic symbols with swords drawn clear the street. Behind them is a sedan car carried by six strong humans.

In the sedan car is a fat human in regal clothing waving to the crowd throwing out rose pedals. The crowd rush to pick up a pedal excited to have a piece of this tempest in a teapot. The sedan car passes, for a moment the fat human riding inside looks directly at your party with fear in his eyes. Then he's back throwing pedals at the rich people. The crowd parts to the entrance of the court house where two patrols of Harmonium take him and escort him inside. 10 Mercykillers guards walk by, out of the courthouse, with a Baatezu in chains.

Occurring at the same time, unnoticed by the crowd, a man runs to an advocate standing on the top of the stairway, but on the side of the courthouse, pursued by a group of harmonium guards. The first advocate shakes his head, another advocate steps in front of the man drawing his sword. The Harmonium guards stop. You aren't able to decipher their whole conversation, but the two sides shout at each other. You hear that the advocate is Doomguard. He talks quickly. You hear the Harmonium demand a retainer be paid per the law. You then see the man begging the advocate as the guards shackle him. You hear the man yelling pathetically as he is dragged away. The advocate sheathes his sword and walks back up the steps. Him and the other advocate can be seen mocking the man, laughing.

Brilligh: [quietly to Flederoth] What are we witnessing here? And why did that fat man seem worried about us? Bodies don't know we're here for Karzoaka already do they?


[NOWISTHETIMEFORTHEBUYINGOFTHINGS]

Interplanar Importers

The court stands in the middle of the Lady's Ward. This foreboding structure rises only two stories above its huge granite foundation, but its clock tower climbs three stories higher. The grand clock in the tower is supposedly the most accurate time keeping device this side of Mechanus. There is a great stair up to the proud marble pillars flanking the outside of the entry. During the day you would find you self standing shoulder to shoulder with accused criminals, Harmonium agents, and Clueless. Taverns now serve bashers just killing time before their court appearances, and scribes still run by on court-related duties. Freelance advocates of all sorts hawk their skills outside the building. The court has closed for the day but people still mill about. The bells chime proudly as you pass, 30 AP, it will be Antipeak soon, just as Tarsheva said.

Clymenstria: [Looks around and recognizes the look in the eyes of the hawkers as the same one with which she met Peter, and his desire to be unnoticed. Looking to peter and nodding at his unease and does what she can to keep attention to the group to a minimum, but, what we do get focused upon herself, holding herself upright and ready for action.]

Peter: [To Clemenstria- nods and in a crazy old man like voice asks] Do you need any of your bags carried m'lady? [kneels down and secures Clymenstria's footwear then spit shines the leather]

Brilligh: [Scowls at Peter, hissing] Move along sod!

Just blocks away from the Courthouse is Interplanar Importers. It's a clean, attractive building but not as grand as the other walled fortresses found nearby. The compound is large but only the main building has the flair that is unique to the Lady's Ward wealthy. The rest of the compound, while decent, is built for utility. It is walled off with a large delivery entrance manned by armed guards. Tarsheva takes you though this gate and leads you to the receiving area.

A Bariaur introduces herself Arayna. She is a dashing blond with long locks trailing down her back. Her eyes, as blue as the stormy sea in winter flash over you, devouring your skin with a single glance. She is cloaked in the finest clothes probably from some far reaching plane. Her face is serious yet relaxed. As you approach she breaks into a smile, losing her stoic frame. Her body loosens and her four hooven feet move about on the cobblestones. *Clack! Clack! Clack!* She shifts her weight and leans against her Quarterstaff. A holy symbol hangs from her neck. You cannot make out the details from here, but guess she must be a priest of some Power or another.

Arayna: And who might you be, berk? [she says in a playful manner addressing Tarsheva]

Tarsheva: I got some plants 'ere for Arayna care of Interplanar Importers. Straight from Baator and Arboria. I also have some soil from Arvendor as well, procured at great risk. That's 300 gp for th' plants and 450 gp for th' soil, if ya want it. Do ya have any rooms available for some ful cutters? These berks are bloods in th' making, though you wouldn't know it by looking.

Clymenstria: [Edging her way forward, to hold the bridle of the horse, she tries to get herself a better look at the holy symbol, excited to get to meet another priest so soon.]

Peter: Let me take care of your horse for ye m'lady [trying to give Clymenstria positioning to have a better look].

Brilligh: [Sinks back some from the glare of Arayna, feeling the grime of battle & road travel on herself. She listens to Tarsheva & Arayna closely, trying to learn about the treasures.]

Arayna: Aye, a stiff price ye ask. Given that this is the first time dealing with you I would be willing to give ye 600 for the lot and rooms are on me tonight. What say ye?

Tarsheva: I know ye'll be happy with th' dirt. Arvendor is th' Elven forest in Arboria. I never saw trees so tall or healthy as there. Twas thinking of selling it myself, but bar that. I'd rather walk th' ring.

Arayna: Well, then ye shall be staying with us tonight. I have rooms for the lot of ye. I trust ye won't be starting any trouble here?

Tarsheva: [pauses as she looks the party over] Nah, I'll vouch for them. They won't cause any problems.

You move closer to try and get a glimpse of Arayna's holy symbol noting that it is an enamel necklace with three stars (orange, yellow, red) in a black background, you have seen this symbol before and know it to be that of the power Liira - goddess of Freedom, Celebration, and Liberty.

Arayna: [drops a large bag of coin in Tarsheva's hand in exchange for the goods. The weight seems to be correct.]

Tarsheva: [pays each PC 15 gp] Thanks for your help. You all did very well, an' it has been a pleasure.

Brilligh: [Holds out her right hand, to shake hands] Was fine working with you Tarsheva, I'd do it again in a tick. [She slips the coins into her bag.]

*Arayna receives (5) Baatorian Violets, (3) Baatorian Amaryllis, (10) Baatorian Scadoxus, (2) Baatorian Fire-Crackers; (8) Arborian Orchids, (6) Arborian Bulbophyllum, (8) Arborian Chrysanthium saplings, (4) Olympian Maianthemum.*

*Aryna recieves 300 lbs of soil from Arvendor. +2 to all agricultural checks when using the soil. Soil can heal dying plants, increase yields and improve growing times*

A large group of small humanoids with black glossy skin and antennae arrive carrying a huge crate. From the crate strange peeps and squeals emanate. Arayna seems distracted for a moment and waves her arm to a couple hired hands standing nearby who escort the group of strange ant-like humanoids to a far corner of the entry room.

Arayna: Follow me and I'll show you where you will be staying. [Arayna turns her back to you and whooshes her tail through the air. She leads you to a flight of stairs made of a fine stained wood. The railing is carved of a shiny white bone and the posts at the bottom of the stairs are floating shrunken heads of vampires] Stay away from the heads, they bite. One was the great Vampire Seid Von Ludwig who ruled his own demi-plane on the edges of the demi-plane of shadow. He attempted dangerous magicks learned from the Netheril on Toril and attempted to twist the weave to make himself into a power. The other was the Vampiress Reikkwess Marianas who committed genocide and slayed the entire sub-species of Thri-Kreen called K'Thivis in the known planes. Both of these Vampires were slain by The Great Vampire Hunter Colt Swiftbolt. We keep them both here as reminders of what too much power can do to a blood. Right this way... [leaps up the stairs with gentle grace]

The party is led to a cramped room behind some crates. Arayna lights the lantern hanging in the room and you can tell that the room was hastily built to accommodate a merchant and his or her servants. Evidence of previous visitors still remain in the room. Some blankets lie crumpled in the corner and small pieces of paper are scattered about like someone ripped up a page from a book. There's barely enough room for you all to fit, but perhaps you can stay here for one night. After moving the wash basin and bed pan (empty) you make enough room to sleep. The room quickly heats up from the lantern and all the bodies next to each other.

Brilligh: [Stuffs herself into a corner of the room, and dozes.]

QUESTION TO PCs: WHO MOVES THE WASHBASIN? ROLL HIGH D20!

Gnometown/Gurincraag/The Temple District

Clymenstria: [Leaving the shattered temple district Clymestria loosens up and again stands straight, and having left behind the Athar guards on Brandy Lane.] Tarsheva, are we likely to see any more of those Athar berks? [Hearing a negative, Clymenstria reveals her amulet, and fluffs the feather which dangles from it] Praise Athena.

Peter: Praise Athena m'lady, praise her in all your glory.

Snatch: (hearing the question and answer of clymestria/tarsheva, snatch too unsheaths her holy symbol, casting a bless spell on the group a little flamboyantly. Whirling with her tail a bit she turns once on her right foot, then jumps, to come down on the ground hard, as the vibrations of the ground eminate from her the spell takes effect. A smug and slightly placated snatch now walks chest high, free feeling with the group, casting aside the thoughts of athars, prison wardens, and slave runners.)

Peter: (to snatch) Thank you, your highness.

After passing by the Shattered Temple following Forgotten Lane a high wall decorated with the spikes and blades that seem to festoon nearly all buildings in Sigil, is erected on you left side. On your right side the cacophony of architecture continues as various building styles mix and entire bocks seem to merge together due to the population density of this area. There are small alleyways in these dense blocks leading to what seems to be open squares in the middle, creating tiny communities within. A family walks the street passing by two Hamutula Baatezu discussing something with a small group of Tieflings.

Brilligh: [Eavesdrops while passing the Baatezu and Tieflings.]

Grafnutz: So da whole sodding place crashed down 'round me.

Tiefling1: What did you do then Grafnutz?

Grafnutz: I took me Glaive an impaled a Dwarf an swung him 'round knockin over all da others. Den I caught dem on fire and stomped on der heads! Der not so tuff now. Dat's how I got dis skull belt buckle, ya know, ta remind me.... Ahhh Good times!

Tiefling2: That's a great story Grafnutz. I never get tired of you telling us how you ruined that Dwarf city.

Grafnutz: Yeah. It's a good story. It's true too! I have another one, dis one is better. So this one time me an Kel were in da Field of Nettles....... [conversation fades]

An ogre worker carries a couple of kegs into a tavern while a tall and wiry yellow skinned man runs down the street chasing a large red button rolling away from him. It seems to be magically pulled along as if by a long string. You can see a Gnome a small distance away giggling. The man yells out



"In a bag full of buttons
I'm that tiny unique one.....



Odd in size and color
Holes as round as the sun.....



I may not shine or sparkle
Or even catch most eyes.....






I may not match one's attire
Nor compare to all those flies.....



Though, I may not have a matching set
I've learned to stand alone.....



When it comes to wearing the britches
I surely can hold my own."

Clymestria: [keeping her hand near her sword when she sees the Baatezu, and then a ogre with something large in his hands, but as moments pass and the keg doesn't fly, nor does the nefarious clutch break apart in unison, and then the constant presence of the Harmonium guards she eases into her guard.]


There are many gnomes going about their business in this area. The entrance to Gnometown (aka Little Bytopia) is a large wrought iron gate in the wall on your left. The gate is open now, guarded by a group of gnomes armed with muskets and wearing plate armor. Gnomish merchants sell trinkets outside the gates but most people pay little (pun intended) attention to their wares. Looking in the gate you see small houses that don't fit the standard Sigil model, they look cozy and their architecture is similar to each other, but in a much smaller scale than a human's.

Brilligh: [scans the wares from her place in the caravan, marking the location of this neighborhood on her map. Not wanting to hold up the party, she will not stop to shop. Perhaps Peter would accompany her back here to look more closely for some magical items, unless Tarsheva thinks the Bazaar would be more fruitful.]

Peter: [whispers] Sure, I like magic.

Snatch: (passes closely to brilligh) PLEASE MAKE NOTE OF THIS PLACE ON YOUR MAP, I WOULD ENJOY TO DO A BIT OF SHOPPING IN THIS AREA WHEN WE ARE NOT EMPLOYED.

Clymenstria: [Takes a slight interest in their wares looking to see, in passing, if there seems to be anything whose use is obvious, and or obviously useful.]


Not far from Gnometown is Gurincraag, which means Dwarven Mountain. Heavily armed and armored dwarven guards patrol this sparsely populated area despite the large number of buildings here. There must be many smithies here due to the raucous hammering that can be heard. The sounds of them singing while working at the forge is beautiful and heartening, nearly all the dwarves on the street are either singing along or humming to the beat of the hammers working metal.

Clymenstria: [Hearing the pounding, she looks to Pfetfzet] We will return here to outfit our friend. Unless someone knows a better place to buy some exquisite arms.

Snatch: THE SMELL OF REAL ARMS! HOW I LONG TO WIELD A WEAPON APPROPRIATE TO MY STATURE, TO MY PEOPLE!! (a loud screech and strange odor accompany this outburst) TAKE A MOMENT TO LEARN A SUBTLTY OF SAURIAL SPEACH, THAT IS THE SMELL OF PRIDE MY FRIENDS!

Pfepftzet: [to Clymestria] Agreed. I shall also like to peruse their wares and perhaps trade some of my arms. It is rare that I pass through a city that may offer such a selection.

After another nearly an hour after Gurincraag, following Berk's Lane to Bloodgem Road, you exit the Lower Ward. The smog starts clearing and now you see that the stars above are actually fires from buildings far above you. You can even see people the size of ants walking about.

Brilligh: Ah! This rusted city!! It's like to curl up from behind us and fall down upon us. What a terrible construct. Rusted Cage indeed! [begins to glance furtively behind and above her, as if she expects the city itself to descend on her, and hugs a little closer to the caravan, occasionally holding on to the side of the cart for balance.]

Snatch: IT DOES SEEM SO, BUT THIS IS ONLY A TRICK OF THE LIGHT, A TRICK OF THE EYE, PAY NO REAL ATTENTION TO IT, LEST YOU TAKE ANOTHER SPILL, HOLD ON TO ME IF NECESSARY FAIR LADY.

The buildings here on the border of the Lady's Ward are noticeably nicer with gates and walls protecting residents from regular folks. The number of Harmonium, while common in the Lower Ward, are everywhere in the Lady's Ward. The streets here widen and the citizens appear much more wealthy, except for their servants.


Snatch: (the presence of servants is a little unnerving, with little knowledge of contracts and the such, there is a looming feeling that perhaps one of these rich folks might think they own a body...)

The prison, oppressing the surroundings with its cold unforgiving design, is nearby and Mercykiller guards with their Baroque armor and polearms usher prisoners from the jail to the Tower of the Wyrm, guarded by crisply saluting guards. There you hear the screams of prisoners awaiting punishment. In Petitioner's Square there are pillocks, each occupied by a petty criminal with a sign dangling from their neck describing their crime(s). From the gallows dangle a couple of corpses being picked upon by giant ravens apparently left to rot. Dabus, the custodians of the city, float about cleaning up the square. Strange symbols float above their heads changing quickly like they're having a visual conversation. A patrol of Harmonium walk by with a dun colored dog with two heads, an Aoskian hound. They watch you as you pass noticing you working as guards and leave you be.

Brilligh: [keeps her eyes down, knowing it won't do a body any good to bother making work with this group, and then calls quietly over to Snatch] Looks like they have the belly of the beast all sewn up, so many tailors, eh?

Snatch: THEY ARE TRULY VIGILANT HERE, AND WE, GUARDS HERE, AMONG GUARDS, IN A GUARDED CITY, TAILORS INDEED.

Clyemstria: [Seeing that there is indeed a sense of civic justice makes her a bit calmer, but still on guard. The constant curious looks are a new experience for her, and she doesn't like it either. Though wowed by what is otherwise a mighty city, with splendorous sights. ]

The local law enforcement aren't the only people walking the street. The rich and powerful here loath any sort of physical labor and must be taken everywhere by sedan chairs. These strong humanoids carry a coach suspended by long poles on their shoulders. Young clergy of various faiths can be seen running about on errands. In a large square a sizable group of these clergy are having a debate. You notice that they are speaking in Greek. They wear short chitons, cloak like himatons attached with a jeweled pin and wreaths in their hair. They laugh loudly then stop as Clymestria walks by. One lets out a whistle.


Clymestria: [raises her head scanning the crowd with purpose, looking for what she hopes to be a knot of fellow Greeks, her head snaps towards the whistle, missing its implication but keying in on it in her search, and there they are, a group of acolytes. So long from her home, the Caduceus on his pin reads only as home and heath, and familiar craft work done in the service of a god. But which god she barely spares a though.]











Priest1: [in Greek] By Hermes! She's a looker. Athena, is that you!? [laughter]

Clymenstria: Hermes! Of course. Fool of a priestess.

Priest2: [in Greek] Quiet, she looks like a priestess! I don't want to get into trouble again.

Brilligh: [snorts, not knowing the words, but recognizing the cadence of a wolf call] Here we go...

One acolyte runs to Clymestria's side.

Snatch: (steps in the way) CAREFUL NOW CLYMESTRIA, WE KNOW NOT WHAT THEY ARE SAYING!

Priest2: [in common] Are you a priestess? We have not seen you before. I am Hermokrates neophyte priest of Hermes. It's not often that we meet cultured folks here in the 'cage.' Won't you come to our temple, our master would surely welcome you.

Snatch: (with a sudden realization) OH, YES, OF COURSE, YOU KNOW THIS TONGUE, MY APOLOGIES HUMAN.

Clymenstria: [in Greek] Hail, Hermokrates, may your strides be swift. [Keeps her eyes upon his manner as she introduces herself, as it has come to her attention that those who have wretched hold of my order have not praised me as highly as once they did.] I am Clymestria Atticus, I follow the path Athena puts before me, as my wisdom allows. Of late, I have been away from a temple for quite a bit longer than planed. I must complete my task with this merchant as is our contract, but after that I would be much honored if you would receive me. Who is your master, so I know upon whom to call? [with a gentle smile] And who is your friend? Fleet feet, lead to quick tongues it seems. I kid, but tell of things here and things upon Olympus, how do the games looks? What of Agamemnon's murder? I heard of it upon the planes but with little detail, please messenger. [Clym takes a deep breath, filling her lungs to their capacity, and is about to let loose a second string of questions at hastespell speed when...]
Tarsheva: Ah, hem. We've still to get these to the drop. You can wag your tongue with the young priests later.
Clymenstria: Yes, as I said I will find you. In the Temple District I would presume.

Snatch: IT APPEARS WE HAVE MUCH TO DO HERE IN THIS CITY THAT ONE MIGHT NOT HAVE EXPECTED. I AM BEGINNING TO FEEL AN UNDERSTANDING OF THIS PLACE, AND YET I KNOW THERE IS NOT SUCH THING AS UNDERSTANDING OF THIS PLACE IN COMPLETENESS. TARSHEVA, LET US DELAY YOU NO MORE. ONWARD! THROUGH THE FOG!

The Shattered Temple

After the bridge you travel on the Street of the Martyrs. This street is quite busy with working class types. It looks like they are coming home from their jobs. Most have soot covered faces and clothes. The appearance of these dirty residents is only made worse by the shadows playing on their faces from the lanterns they hold as they walk. The smog here is much thicker here than in Goatswood and its smell is very acidic. The sound of hammering can be heard ringing through the alleys and above all the structures the giant smokestacks of the Great Foundry spout flame and billow noxious fumes.

Clymenstria: [Glancing over the rooftops towards the giant stacks fouling the air, and longs for her homeland and it wild rolling hills and breezes that did not smell of three shades of fiend.]

After a few densely populated blocks the neighborhoods look ruined and unpopulated. Razorvine and grass have taken over the skeletons of these buildings. This is the same all around the Shattered Temple.

Tarsheva: We're entering The Shattered Temple District. It'd be best if you'd hide your holy symbols while travelling in this area. The Athar don't twig towards priests. That's not screed friends, more than one Proxy has been fallen by their hands.

Clymenstria: The more I see of this cage, I understand more why it has its name. For the entirety of the time you are here you wish you were out of it. [Reaching up to grasp the beaded chain, ever around her neck, she presses her lips to it, closing her eyes in prayer and slowly tucks it into the top of her armor] I like this not [moves her hand to rest near her shield testing it to make sure she can easily bring it bear.]

Brilligh: [reaches up and checks the silver pin once again. Tho it was not given to her as a holy symbol, she still thinks of it as a symbol of Hecate, and on the Planes, intent can be just as powerful as actions.]

Snatch: [double checks to make sure her holy symbol is tucked away in a pocket, unafraid to conceal the majesty of shekinestra from heathen eyes, she walks proudly, but not boistriously through the lane with the group]

Peter: [adjusts his family jewels so that the boys are more comfortable]


THE SHATTERED TEMPLE

Turning onto Athar's Circle the bustle of the Cage fades as a body approaches The Shattered Temple. A breeze whispers through coarse grasses littered with tumbled stone and splintered wood. Some of Sigil's poor wander here and there gathering up loose stones and beams from the surrounding falling-down buildings.
The tilted skeleton of the Shattered Temple looms above all these other, lesser ruins. Razorvine curtains its ragged walls, listing buttresses, and cracked towers. The Lost have shored up the remains of the crumbling sanctuary, but it seems as though they like the ravaged mood of the place.

Clymenstria: [After a first furtive look, and seeing the remains of a mighty temple laid to waste by time and neglect, rent asunder, beaten, she averts her eyes and keeps them on the road ahead of her, ears trained to sound of coming enemies. And deep within her, the shrine where her faith lies is strengthened, for she know that only through that will it assure Athena never meets this fate.]

[To non-priests] There is a some comfort from this mute witness to the fact that powers can die - as did Aoskar, the near-forgotten god of portals once worshiped here when the place was still called the Great Temple of Doors. Slain by none other than the Lady of Pain herself.

Pfepftzet: [her mouth curves into the smallest of smiles as she considers how weak those who worship the gods can become. She feels a surge of strength run through her body, her steps feeling lighter and her pack less of a burden, as she silently praises her belief in her strength over that of any god.]

Brilligh: [thinks on Pazriel, that he too is a god, or at least thinks of himself as one. Guess any cutter's neck can be slit when it comes to pushes & shoves, and rolls the idea of his demise around in her mind like a stone on her tongue. She approaches one wall, reaches up with her curved blade and cuts away a few branches of razorvine, taking care to mostly hold it in her gloved hand. She ties a black ribbon at its base, and tucks it into an empty pocket in her robe. Brilligh must have been tugging on another part of the vine because as soon as she cuts the vine in her hand another cuts her arm. *BRILLIGH TAKES 1 PT DAMAGE* A piece of Sigil, this randy vine, a reminder of mortality, a fitting souvenir, and the base of some right hende bub.] Rust it all! This sodding Cage gives me a new meaning for narky. I'd rather walk the Great Road then spend another tick here.

At the end of a nameless Lower Ward street off Brandy Lane stands a decrepit outbuilding made of worn, moss-covered stones. Two guards bearing the Athar insignia watch the entrance.

Sigil, the City of Doors; or, the Cage, to some.

You exit the portal to find yourself in a large, mostly empty room. There are a few crates here and a table with a man sitting at it. He must have been asleep because he jumps from his seat with a yelp when the portal opens. Wiping the sleep from his eyes he eyes you and your cargo cautiously.

Clerk: Welcome ta Sigil. Do ye come with a delivery of goods for sale? Mind if I take a look at yer cart? [starts searching the cart] That's a lotta dirt yer bringing in... plants too? Hmmm, do ya have papers for these?

Clymestria: Hail Gate keeper, we seek safe passage.


Tarsheva: [hands over a scroll] This should cover it.

Pfepftzet: [Watches the exchange between her fellow travelers and the clerk, allowing Tarsheva and Clymestria handle all the transactions]

Brilligh: [relaxes, sighing a little under her breath at the bumbling idiot put in charge of guarding at least one of the city's gates. Maybe there is some hope of getting out of Sigil alive, she thinks to herself, but watches the exchange between Tarsheva & the clerk closely all the same.]


Clerk: [reads the scroll] Tarsheva. Tis a pleasure to make yer acquaintance. Of course everything's in order. [walks to the table stamps the scroll] Now just th' portal use fee of 2 gp per head an a 5 gp fee for th' wagon an' beast.

Clymestria: [Taking a couple steps to Snatch,] I think the Bank of K might be drawn on for this. [Sifts through a handfull of Jinks, and stingers enough to pull four Merts out, and she strides to the clerk] This is for the 10 of us. [She holds her hand out and drops the disks, Head of Zeus, Griffin, Fiend lord, Dragons Head, they topple into the clerks ourstreached hands, ringing clear.]

Brilligh: [hands over 2 jink, and takes a step closer to the clerk, rasping slowly] Good sir, might you sell maps of this fine burg?


Once all monies exchange hands you are ushered out a large double door into an a wide alley. The light is waining and the smog is thick with the sent of chimney smoke and rotten garbage.




Clerk: Ye be in Goatswood now, Radagast street tis straight ahead cutters. Mind yerself, once ya cross th' Ditch into th' Lower Ward ye'll be in th' Shattered Temple District, that's Godless territory. I wouldn't take a left unless you want to walk through th' Hive.

Clymestria: [At the mention of a godless teritory Clymestria's body stiffens, her face grows grave, and she mutters a prayer to bolster her strength.Clym removes her pack, travelworn and bloodstained, pulling at knotted leather and clasps she attaches her spear to it, for in close quarters such as streets it would be a hinderance, and her shield onto a hook, ready for use but out of hand as a show of intent; before returning them all to her back] Yes, let us accompany you to your destination, Tarsheva, so we might complete our buisness, as it should.
Snatch: (awestricken at the magnitude of the city, thoughts of the battle arenas that she has been taken to for show and spectacle flood her mind, she does not want to leave anyone at this point. splitting up is a very frightening prospect)TARSHEVA, HOW LONG SHALL WE ACCOMPANY YOU THROUGH THIS MAZE? THIS IS TRULY AN AWESOME PLACE WITH ITS OWN RHYTHM AND LIFE, LET US STAY WITH YOU A BIT TO TAKE A PEEK AT OUR TEMPORARY FUTURE UNTIL YOU ARE COMPLETELY UNLOADED AND FINISHED, THEN WE WILL LEAVE YOU, THIS WILL BRING US BOTH A BIT OF ADJUSTMENT TO THIS... UNIQUE LAND.



A lone smoke stack belches puffs of thick acrid smoke into the cool air which is promptly caught upon an unseen breeze. Pan out and buildings of all shapes and sizes become apparent. Structures in brown, blue, green, white, and yellow- twisting and turning in odd geometric and some impossible shapes. Some built of bricks, some of wood, a few seem held together only by the vines and ivy that scratch and crawl into their cracks and crevasses.


Brilligh: [absently reaches up with her gloved hand and shifts the folds of her great hat slightly, burying her silver feather pin under a layer of dusty onyx gauze.] Tarsheva, what was the scroll you handed to the clerk? Will we need something similar to exit Sigil?

Tarsheva: Th' papers were only to import goods.



The strangest sight of all is the horizon, which seems to fold toward you giving you an incredible sense of vertigo. [DEX CHECK PEEPS] The smog blocks your view, but looking up you see what seem to be stars shining though the haze. It seems like the building you exited out of is very large and ornate for this area. Metal blades adorn the upper levels and gargoyles decorate the gutters and corners. Several small groups of humans walk about. You also pass by a large group of Githzerai seeming to whisper conspiratorially, shooting glances about.

Pfepftzet: [The city is unlike any she has every passed through, but instead of unsettling her, Pfepftzet feels a small sense of relief. It would be easy to get lost in a city like this, blend in and disappear. The large group of Githzerai passing by only confirms her assurance that she can blend in.]

Snatch: (eyes on the cart as we exit she is only concerned with those around her, knowing that the scene will engulf her if she is not focused now on her companions, the traveling community she so loves to be a part of.

Clymenstria: As her eyes trace thier path and seem to just wind thier way up, then they are not looking ahead but skyward, or is it down? The fight in High Point comes back to her and she closes her eyes for a moment feeling her body in space, and continues aheadher eyes a little more rigidly on the proper plane

Brilligh: [unfolds the map and traces the streets with her bony fingers until she finds the party's location. She glances up and her black eyes sweep out over the skyline, taking in the chaotic argument of colors and shapes making up the architecture that never seems to end. She looks back at the map, trying to understand why the drawing seems to infer some sort of donut shape. Confused, she stares at the horizon trying to follow it to where it must naturally end, her head falling back. Unconscious of her state, Brilligh's cloven feet slowly begin to rise off the ground and swing out from under her. Before long, she's nearly upside down, leathery wings resting in the dirt, her robe sliding to reveal abnormally long, muscular legs covered in a delicate black & silver down. Harrumphing loudly, she collapses on the ground, all flapping wings and kicking hooves.] Can we get moving? I feel like a sodding lemon just waiting to get bobbed & peeled out here. [she stands, tugs her satchel closer to herself stuffing the map in it, and pulls the brim of her hat down so she can't see the horizon anymore.]


The stench from Goatswood grows stronger assaulting your nose as you approach what the Sigilians affectionately call The Ditch. Drawing close to the bridge there are crowds of children dressed in rags, crippled veterans of wars and people with diseases all clamoring for any type of handout.

Snatch: (the smells of this place are terrible for snatch, she is barely able to keep her composure. she grabs at peter, seeing that he is uncomfortable as well, lifting his hand that is holding his hankerchief and touches the hanky with a small bit of stone with some simple serpant like carving on it, the hanky glows faintly for a moment and the air seems to purify, and the noxious fumes are neutralized around the cloth and the spell expands to surround the whole party. (zone of sweet air: providing an 80ft. cube large enough for all the party to fit in for 8 turns)).

Peter: Thank you Snatch, now you know why I carrie a hankie with me.

Clymnestria: [glances at Peter, envying him his scented hankie, suddenly realising the wisdom of what she had thought to be a rather extranious gesture. And heaves a sigh of relief with the fresh breeze] Thank you sister warrior.

The Ditch cuts through the city scape like a festering wound. It is an approximately 75 foot deep trench with a shallow slough of fetid water below. Tarsheva explains that the ditch is where the people of Sigil dump their waste. Often, thugs dump the bodies of their victims into the slow moving brown/ green waters. Within a few hours the foul stream makes them virtually unrecognizable. Some rumor that its a back water of the Styx, but that's probably not the case. From time to time the Ditch is flooded with the pure waters of the River Oceanus, a cause for celebration.

Pfepftzet: [disturbed by the smell, but she has smelled worse. She is more interested in what Tarsheva has to say about thugs using the Ditch to dump bodies. Perhaps useful information to know.]

Along side the Ditch are hastily built shanties occupied by those opportunists who scavenge amongst the waste and corpses for anything that can be sold for a bit of jink. They set up shop on the other side of the beggars sitting on ragged towels displaying their wares. Their faces are covered so only their eyes show. Their exposed skin is covered in scars and sores.

Peter: [looks over at the beggers and lets the words Eww, gross [slips out, breaking character momentarily].

Brilligh: [eyes the river folk apathetically, oblivious to the noxious smells of the city. She thinks on almost identical scenes from her childhood in the Abyss.]

On the other side of the bridge is a guard tower with eight guards wearing red armor armed with halberds, man-catchers, and cross bows. The guards eye you suspiciously as you pass, they pause briefly when they see Clymenstria but say nothing.

Tarsheva: Those are Harmonium bashers. They act as town guard, but they be a Faction wit their own agenda. Watch yer tongue around those berks, they'd just as soon scrag ya as help ya.

Clymenstria: [She notices the glances and is reminded of a basher she met off the river styxx on a gnoll hunt, and how his eyes shined. His armor the same as these berks. Clym sends a nod thier way, her closed fist coming to rest over her heart, the salute of a centurion, given to those who keep the law. ] I might have to look him up, see what he might be able to tell me about the situation here. [She thinks, a brief smile passing accros her lips.]

Snatch: (eyeing tarsheva, noticing the hesitation/reaction of the guards to clymestria, again making sure to keep focus on her group, and attempts to avoid seeming concerned of their presence (charisma fails) but looks obviously scared and uneasy around these types, she snuggles more closely with the group if possible to not stand out, but is completely conspicuous, her discomfort in this place is palpable.)

Funeral to Sigil

Tarsheva: Everyone ok? Anyone injured? If ye feel weak sit up here wit me an' rest. Ya know, the first time I took this route we got caught in a knot by th' 'Lovelost.' You had them running right quick, Clem. That's th' way, I hoped not to toe the line with them spooks!

Clymestria: Yes, Snatch, are you well?

Snatch: I AM FINE CLYMESTRIA. THANK YOU FOR CHASING THOSE GHOSTS AWAY, BUT BE THEY BLESSED, FOR THEY ARE THE ONES WHO ARE TRULY IN A DIRE PLACE, I AM GLAD YOUR GODDESS SHED HER LIGHT ON THEM, PERHAPS THEY RAN TO HER ARMS TO BE PURIFIED.

Peter: All my wits are about me and I do believe I can account for all of my appendages as well. Clymestria (short pause) Thank you.

Pfepftzet: I would be better if they had stayed and felt the wrath of my morningstar, but yes, I am unharmed.

Tarsheva: Veridis was right about you cutters. Once we're back in the Cage I'll have to introduce you to some hende folks who could use some canny planewalkers like yourselves. Ya' all members of a thought guild?

Clymestria: Our trek to this "Cage," a name I like not for a destination of mine, has two principle goals, and though i thank you, finding further means to jink be not one. Through to Arboria must I travel, for a summons is nothing to trifle with, and my master and my king have been deposed in my absence, and i fear it to be an ill omen. Though I have heard of these thought guilds, I stay far from their power base. [turns to the our male companions, and lifting her helm to show her face, eyes earnest, behind the mask of forced composure as three bright red welts form across her cheek, a minuscule bead rolling down to her neck]

Snatch: I CERTAINLY CANNOT CLAIM TO BE A MEMBER OF A THOUGHT GUILD.. I AM A LITTLE ASHAMED TO SAY I KNOW NOT OF WHAT YOU SPEAK!

Pfepftzet: I have not the time nor the inclination to be a part of such guilds.

Tarsheva: That is good to know. Keep your thoughts free, that is the best way.

Clymestria: [to Peter] I would think it a favor, and a show of true trust if you, friend Peter, and brave Flederoth, would prepare us for the city. It's ways are foreign to myself, and Snatch will have little idea being new to freedom on the planes.

Peter: Clymestria I will be glad to show you to the local chapels [whispers under his breath: I'm sure I've seen one before]. I can also show you were the library is... Actually to tell the truth most of my time is spent with the Society Of Sensation. I think this time it would be intellegent for us to make as little contact as possible. Ok, ok here is the low down- there are three things you outa remember going in; the first thing is don't step on or near any puddles, the second always watch your back for cut purses and body collectors, and thridly the Lady of Pain runs the show. If you got that you'll do ok.

Snatch: FEDEROTH, ARE YOU HOLDING UP? IN NEED OF SOME HEALING?

Flederoth: Because of the quick actions of to you two, I escaped without injury. For this I give thanks. Be you in need of a kip? I know many places, secret places even. If it does help to repay my debt I shall give this dark freely.

Snatch: A BED AND FOOD WOULD GREATLY BE APPRECIATED, BUT LET US STAY OUT OF THE WAY TO GET A FEEL FOR THE CAGE A BIT, DO YOU KNOW SOMEWHERE DISCREET?

Brilligh: [a guttural whisper slides thru the air] Clem, perhaps some of these fair folks Tarsheva speaks of could help us on our way out of the Cage, and point us towards Arboria. Never hurts to have a friend in need up the sleeve. As far as the thought guilds, eh... no. I'l guild my own thoughts, thanks kindly.

Tarsheva: Well put Brilligh. Those factions seem to slip a noose around the cage. If you like not to run gauntlets then stay clear of them.

Clymestria: [As the troop begins to move again, Clymestria again takes point having caught her wind, keeping up friendly conversation, in an attempt to lighten the mood, and harks to any stype that comes out knowing that the cage will be anything but what she expects] Let us recap what we know of the situation we go into. Special K is being stored on ice by one Sir Gilfoy, under who's command? He's been taken to the "Ward of Judges" by a scraper names Rodney Corn. He and I have a fated encounter on the horizon. Let us hope he sees the wisdom in avoiding the possible outcome. [She says hefting her spear in her hand and stretches her arm]

The remainder of the trip lasts four hours and is uneventful. You travel through the rest of town then outside of a grand gatehouse that is now little more than a shell. It's heavy doors lie on the ground broken off it's hinges. Out side of town is much the same as before. Except rather than a gutted city ruined farm houses and mills dot land and large pronounced rolling hills seem to be interesting geographical anomalies. Copses of dead trees filter the light from the weak moon (sun?) that hasn't seemed to move since your arrival.

Brilligh: [rasping]This place is similar in spirit to the Grey Waste. Everything is so still.


Tarsheva: This is it! [she starts looking through her belt pouches] Where did I put that sodding key? Don't tell me I left it... no... I could swear that I brought it..... Maybe it's in my pack.


After a few minutes of rummaging the key is found.


Whilst Tarsheva looks about for her key, Clymestria calls to the party gathering them up out of easy earshot, not wanting to involve her is anything she needent be.

Brilligh: [Keeps half an ear towards Clem, but all eyes on Tarsheva. I want to know exactly what the key is and how she uses it.]

Clymestria: We will need to be exceptionally cautious as we go forward. We know little of our enemy, we will need to find our place to hole up. [Looks at Flederoth] That will be you and the contact we have from Verdis. Lets stay tight lipped about why we are here, and be discreet in questioning about Karzoka, keeping his name scarce.

Pfepftzet: [to Clymestria] You can count on me to keep the mission of our journey secret. Karzoka is my kinsman and dare I say friend (using the term "friend" as if the word is foreign to her) and if there is one thing that Githzerai have learned; it is to trust few but their own and keep matters to our selves.

Tarsheva: Let's get rolling, I have a feeling that we're being stalked. [opens the portal then ushers the wagon and Brilligh, Peter and Snatch. She opens the portal again and everyone else is ushered through.]

Brilligh:[Walks thru the portal on guard, eyes wide open, hand near her pouch she she need to fling some pain in someone's eye.]
Peter: (follows Brilligh through) Brilligh when you have a moment I would like to speak with you...