As you're walking through the streets of Sigil, you experience a massive headache. Walking in one direction makes the pain diminish slightly, going in another direction makes it worse. You stumble through the streets, going one step at a time trying to make the pain lessen. The further you travel, the lesser the pain becomes, until it the pain finally goes away - but the sensation of something between an interrupted sneeze and a tickle still remains in your brain-box.
You find yourself standing next to the front door to a small building. There are a handful of others here with you, whom you may or may not know, just as confused as you are. You get the feeling that you're supposed to enter the building.
Soolam charges up, tearing away the veils of sight to see what is truly around him. He looks around, and says, "What is this?! Who are you people?! Did you bring me here?!" He tenses his legs, ready to run. But where to? The headache will come back.
Aerin had been pondering the door for some time, simply glad that the nausea-inducing headache had ceased more so than trying to discern anything of import, when the excitable young creature had rushed up and begun jabbering in an accusatory tone. The bard glanced out of the corner of his eye at the gray clad arrival as well as the small crowd starting to gather that had been seemingly blown here on the same pain-inducing wind as himself.
Answering the lad’s frantic tones with a warm, calm smile he said, “Hello, uhhhh, addle-cove,” using the same friendly (after all, they usually laughed when they said it) address others had given him frequently since arriving in this place. “I feel I was carried here on the breath of a gorgon. You as well?”
Tiberius looks to the frantic lad, a slightly shocked expression on his face.
me? Bring you here? Hah, preposterous, I don't even know you, besides, I've been brought here as well. Quite the envasvise force whatever it was. He looks around then up at the door. Moving up and running a clawed finger over it. I say, do none of you know why we are here? he grumbles a bit under his breath. Then turns suddenly remembering others were here. Well? Speak up lads.
A woman clad in hiking gear pauses momentarily. She looks like she is about to head to the small building and then stops. She has a confused expression for a few seconds, then she crouches down and looks at the ground; after a few moments she looks up, craning her head back to survey the sky, as if she's trying to find a landmark or some way to get her bearings.
Saloom - your blindsight does not sense anyone else present except those you can also see around you. There's a few animals about - some rats, a cat or two. And there's a Dabus over there working on the side of a building.
Zan - you're in a section of the market district; you're not too far from where you started, maybe a few hundred yards/meters, but a few streets over. Looking up into the far sky, you see the other side of Sigil as it wraps around in a large donut shape with you on the inside of the ring (See the pictures in the campaign info tab). You recognize where you are, and you've likely even been down this street a couple of times before.
The building is small; by the shape of it maybe big enough for a few rooms deep and a small second story or attic above it with windows peering out. It's width is enough to house the door and some windows to either side of it. The curtains are closed on all the windows.
The woman stands and adjusts a kerchief around her neck. Her fingers twitch and she bounces a stout bow on her shoulder twice, then simply says, "Sigil."
Soolam opens the door to the building, peering inside. "Well, since we are all here, we should find out why."
you do realize that door could very well likely lead to any plethora of planes or realms, probably more likely than it is to simply lead to another room. But let's just dive straight in! After all, what could possibly go wrong?! the dragonborn shakes his head and mutters the impatience of people.
you do realize that door could very well likely lead to any plethora of planes or realms, probably more likely than it is to simply lead to another room. But let's just dive straight in! After all, what could possibly go wrong?! the dragonborn shakes his head and mutters the impatience of people.
Soolam projects a thought directly into the dragonborn's mind, If you have a way to find out, I'd love that. However, if you do not, can I open the door?
I say, do none of you know why we are here? he grumbles a bit under his breath. Then turns suddenly remembering others were here. Well? Speak up lads.
"A thunderhead of sorts, for my part," the genasi answered. He looked up at the skyless city, a perturbed look on his face. No wind blew through this place, and what scents the scant breezes did carry were foul more often that not. It had been time to leave his secluded mountaintop home, but he was beginning to question this place they called The Cage, apparently for good reason.
Duncan watches the group for a few moments from a nearby alleyway, just long enough to gather that none of those present were responsible for his odd headache.
First the dreams, now this?
He adjusts his chainmail, rests his hand on the pommel of his trusty blade, then strides towards the group.
"You all too, eh?"
The woman presses two fingers against the bridge of her nose and squints.
A woman clad in loose dark grey robes with silver trims and a large hood drawn over her head steps forward, her arms are covered by form fitting sleeves in the same color, revealing only the fingers of her dark skinned hands. She's holding a fairly plain wooden staff in one of them. A belt holds a sheathed dagger, a book, a small satchel and an hourglass danglingg around her hips. Her feet, when they stick out under the long robes can be seen to be bare. A purple crystal pendant hangs between the grey folds of cloth, probably from a necklace she is wearing under a wide scarf.
"Someone... or something... wanted us here.", her voice is deep and smooth.
She steps up next to Soolam and takes a look into the building. Looking for clues as to why everyone was lead here.
As you approach the building, you see a small sign on the door which reads, "Jysson."
The door is unlocked and opens easily. Standing from the outside looking in, the place looks like some sort of clerk's office. You can see books and papers inside, bookshelves line the walls. There's no light inside, but beams of light gleam through the windows, and you can see dust floating through the light, creating a stratified look to the place.
As soon as each of you step inside, the sensation in your head immediately stops. The final vestiges of pain disappear. Once inside, the place looks like it's been abandoned for some times. Months, maybe? Probably not more than a year or two at the most. There are several desks arranged neatly throughout the room, each of them strewn with papers and books and ledgers; all of it covered in a layer of dust.
The room itself is long and skinny. Maybe only a half dozen paces wide, but easily double or triple in length. There's a small, straight upwards stairway in the far back of the room, behind one of the desks.
Zethaya turns and pulls back her hood for a moment to look at her companions. She briefly smiles as if to say "What are we waiting for?" and walks down the room and up the stairs.
Aerin shrugs and nods in agreement; there seemed to be little choice but to proceed up the stairs as the dark-robed woman suggested. The genasi tamped down a twang of discomfort from the tightness of the room’s confines, preferring by far the open spaces he was accustomed to. Nonetheless, his white hair was standing on end of its own accord with a tingle of anticipation as he set foot on the stairs.
Soolam follows, keeping a watchful eye out for anything that could seem dangerous, or have some sort of hint to why they are there.
As the first person heads into the room, a voice speaks out...
Oh dear, it says, apologetically. The voice is soft spoken and slightly masculine, with a hint of an accent out of date. I'm terribly sorry; I did not realize that would be so painful. Please accept my apologies.
Out from under the stairs, a small house cat jumps up on the table and sits down on its haunches, looking at you.
Duncan eyes the cat, then looks around to room to find another possible source of the voice.
Finding nothing , he steps forward. With a somewhat forced smile, he extends his hand towards the cat in greeting.
Please let it be the cat, please let it be the cat, please gods let it be the cat.
"Greetings, my name is Duncan Stone, but I think you may know that already. Who are you, and why have you brought us here?"
Duncan is a tall man, standing at 6'5". He has short blonde hair with streaks of silver-grey, grey-blue eyes, and a small scar running through his left eye brow. He takes time in every day to make sure he is clean shaven, his armor, sword, and shield are clean and rust free, and to excercise. His armor has a mismatching patch of leather on the right shoulder, where a coat of arms of the house he once served used to be. He holds a rigid posture and a stern face, but he has laugh lines that indicate a sense of humor, though he is most definatly not laughing at the moment.
The mountain climber glances left, glances right, then shrugs and enters the house. When the cat makes it appearance, her eyebrows go up slightly, then she glances at the staircase and scrutinizes the furnishings.
The tall, golden scaled dragonborn moves around the cat. His Green eyes darting from the cat, then back to the rooms of the building.
I must say, if you are the speaker good cat, I've seen, and hrm experienced, stranger things. So, are you? Or is someone playing a rather distasteful trick?
In a deep baritone, the cat says, It's a pleasure to meet you, Duncan Stone, but it was not I who called. It licks its paw indifferently, stares at the dragonborn, then goes back to licking its paw.
On the same table as the cat, a book flips open on its own, the pages fluttering until it's exactly half way open. A human-like face emerges across the two open pages and speaks in the same meek voice you heard before. It.. It was I. I, I am terribly sorry. I needed to call for help, so I reached out and tried to curb some 'pertish folks off the street. It's been so long since I've done that, I guess I grabbed too hard. Perhaps some sparkle would make it up to you? After you've heard me out, I will see to that.
The book continues, You see, we need a few kind pivers who will take myself and my associate here to the Gate-Town of Automata. Have you heard of Automata, the Gate-Town to Mechanus? It's still there, isn't it?
The face in the book looks at you all with apprehension.
Zan nods in the affirmative.
Soolam stares at the book. "Right then. A book. That's much less weirder."
weird? Hah, poppycock I say. Stranger things abound in this universe... though I must say, a book was... unexpected. Ah, um tell me, exactly why you need to go there ?
Aerin was suddenly rather interested, for the mere suggestion of leaving Sigil aligned nicely with the idea that had been slowly swirling about his brainbox. Here was an excuse to leave, possibly get paid for it, and go to a town that didn’t have a roof on it that was in fact the town itself.
Still, it was most curious. “That seems a simple request,” he allowed, “as there seems to be a portal to just about anywhere here. So simple, in fact, that it should hardly take six of us to accomplish. Is there some difficulty you are expecting?
And let me be sure I understand: you are, in fact, presently a book? And you are owned by this cat here?” he asked with confusion, looking at the dragon-kin stranger for back up.
The dark robed woman looks amused "When you hear stories of half naked amnesiacs who can't die travelling about with chattering skulls, burning mages and succubus priestesses who run brothels in this town, a sentient book and a talking cat seem hardly surprising."
She bows her head slightly "Automata is certainly still around. I think we can come to an agreement."
Oh! You will? Thank you! the book says. But before it has any time to say anything else, the cat cuts it off and it goes silent.
I am Ydemi Jysson, the cat says, and this used to be my office. But at some point I died and became a petitioner on the beastlands. For ages it seemed, I lived in that glorious heaven. About a month ago, the cat lord summoned me and asked me to deliver a message to someone here in Sigil. I completed my task as was on my way home when I felt I was beckoned into this house. Curious, I followed the beckoning and discovered The Book. It seems that I used to work here, and as my name is on the door, I'm inclined to believe it. This was my old office, and I used to live in the apartment upstairs.
Apprently I wasn't too good of a clerk, as I required the aid of a magical book to hep my with my numbers. I was to pay for The Book over a series of payments, but I defaulted on the loan when I died. I figure I ought to return it to its rightful owner - well, The Book figures that, but I agree. He shouldn't be cooped up in this dank building alone when there's open sky to be under.
I bought the book in Automata, but it's too big for me to carry. I ordered The Book to find me aid, and he was a little too exuberant to do so, as he managed to bring all of you here. But since you're all here now, there's no harm in having all of you along for a little outing, is there? It's unlike you were doing anything better - I doubt there's anything better in this dirty old city than being out under open sky.
I bought The Book from Heiron Lifegiver - a Crafstman in the magical arts who specializing in making sentient items. And I purchased it from him at his home in Automata. Unfortunately, I don't remember where he lives. I don't remember any of this, I got all this from The Book. But the story strikes a certain chord with me, and it just feels right.
When the cat finishes, The Book speaks back up.
So Automata is still there. That's good to know. I can pay you with some sparkle, I know where all of Jysson's money is located, and he has agreed that it can be given away, as he no longer cares for such things. Jysson swishes his tail in agreement. The Book continues, In addition, we can give away the deed for this building. I can draft up all necessary paperwork, but you will have to deliver it to the Hall of Records, yourself. Will you help?
"My name is Zethaya. I have a title as well but... it's perhaps a little unflattering. So let's keep it at that." Zethaya smiles.
"I'm willing to help. Do you remember where in Automata your owner resides?"
He shouldn't be cooped up in this dank building alone when there's open sky to be under. <snip> I doubt there's anything better in this dirty old city than being out under open sky.
Aerin found himself nodding vociferously, yet he was torn. He had a rather a low level animosity towards cats, those hunters of both birds and their eggs, though this particular feline seemed to hold the same dim view he did of the so-called charms of this enclosed city. And besides, as he explained he hadn’t always been a cat, had he? So it was settled then.
Following up on the hooded woman’s answer, Aerin added, “And my name is Aerin. I too shall help you in this task, sparkle or no…although yes on the sparkle would be better. It easier to blow about the multiverse with a full purse, as they say.”
"Well, this is odd. But, I'll help you with this." Soolam says. "I'm called Soolam Withal."
The dragonborn stutters a bit then clears his throat. poppycock! Nothing better to do... indeed! I say, this distraction has caused enough a delay. Ehem. However. I must admit to finding myself intruiged and, do believe the book should be returned. In exchange for a, rather roomier place to work I believe this minor task I can accomplish post haste. Besides, I've been meaning to visit the Automata myself actually.
He looks around the room and starts a bit. ah, where are my manners. I am Tiberius Veilbreaker. I'll spare you my family name as it seems most denizens either can't pronounce it properly or mispronounce it out of spite or jest.
The as-yet-unintroduced woman steps forward and picks up the book.
Duncan brings his left hand to his chin, a slight look of annoyance on his face.
A cat and a book that talk. Guess there are stranger things than that. But could I really have been lead to the plains to run errands?
He gives a slight shrug.
Guess otherwise I'd be wandering aimlessly.
"I am somewhat new to these lands, where exactly is this Automata?" he says, addressing the room.
"I'm willing to help. Do you remember where in Automata your owner resides?"
We have the address from when Jysson last met with my creator, The Book says, and before I summoned you here - a bit to roughly - Jysson found a portal and the key to open it.
The as-yet-unintroduced woman steps forward and picks up the book.
The book itself is a large volume, easily a few inches thick. It's fine leather cover is embossed with an H and an L intertwining with each other. It looks a bit like this.
Yes, I did. Jysson says, sitting up.
Theres one in the Clerk's Ward; the entrance to a scribe's shop. The key is a piece of papers torn in exactly equal halves with an E printed on each half. You must tear the paper to open the portal. The location is about a 4-5 hour walk from here.
"I don't suppose someone knows a portal that could shorten the trip? Then let's not waste daylight."
Then lets be on our way. No time to dilly-dally and what not.
The dragonborn heads towards the door, using what knowledge he has of the city from staying their a year to hopefully get around. Never did get particularly good at that.
Aerin shook his head in response to Zethaya's inquiry. "I do not know; from the rumors--chant? Yes, I think they say that here--from the chant there is sure to be one, yet it would no doubt take us longer to first locate it, then learn the key required, then locate the key required, than it will take us on foot. And besides, though I admit to being ready to leave Sigil, there are many places I have yet to see."
Yet the bard stood in place when Tiberius moved to the door. Though he had no interest whatsoever in the dead to this cramped space, there was still the matter of sparkle. "As to where Jysson's money is located...I am thinking that should be our first stop, before we leave, should it not?"
Fixing the cat which an appraising eye he asked, "And will you be walking to the Clerk's Ward? Or will you need to be carried? I have not seen a cat walk so long before."At least not without getting into much mischief he thought.
Upon returning me to my rightful owner, I will reveal the location of the sparkle. The Book says.
The cat says he should be fine, but he may require a shoulder here and there.
You leave the clerk's building and head off into the streets of Sigil, following the car as he winds down streets and alleyways and the occasional rooftop.
A few hours into the trip, you notice that the street your on starts to become a little crowded. You can hear the voices of a crowd up ahead, and as you push your way into the throng you realize that they're cries of protest.
Justice! Mercy! Revenge!
The voices are multitude and seem to be conflicting with each other. You can't quite tell why the crowd has assembled, but if you push your way further into the crowd, you know you'd be able to figure it out.
Zan and Duncan both point out that there's an alley that could bypass this whole thing.
"Can we go around this?" Soolam asks.
They have a grayish-brown coat, and nubs for tails.
(Medium sized creatures, for reference).
Duncan takes a look down the alleyway, noticing the dogs.
Doubt those strays will let us just walk by, but this mob could turn into a riot at any moment, and I do not want to be caught in the middle of that.
Duncan raises his voice to attempt to be heard by his companions over the din.
"We can take this alley to avoid the crowd, stay on your guard though!"
He then looks from one member of the group to the next, gauging their reactions.