The day, such as things are measured in this bizarre city, brightens the damp cobblestones somewhat. One thing that Alessia does find preferable in this city is the lack of strong sunlight. Darkness suits her.
She has spent the night time guarding the sleepers in the inn. Not needing rest she found a shadowed alley to fade into. The night went slowly, and Alessia observed a cavalcade of weird creatures going to and fro. She notes Blayze leaving, and then Hamar swaggering towards the Silver Rose office. Renkar and Hamar return an hour later and enter the Copper Cauldron.
Alessia sighs inwardly, feeling the peculiar weight of not being able to sleep.
Despite her long years of existence, the past few... weeks? Months? However long it has been, Alessia has found herself closer to her goal than ever. And on top of that, she has fallen in with a group of fellow seekers, perhaps for the first time since her death hundreds of years ago. As she paces the alleyway behind the inn, she realizes what unfamiliar feeling has taken hold of her-- restlessness.
For as long as she can remember, she has been able to wait patiently, for decades if need be, trusting in the dark energy permeating her body to sustain her. But now...
Reaching into her belt pouch, Alessia feels around for a moment, finally removing the mirrored pendant given to her by the cenobite Mara. She sits, her back against the wall of the alley as she holds up the amulet, contemplating it as she watches her companions leave the inn.
After a very long time, she lets out a small noise of discomfort, then quickly slips the pendant around her neck, pulling her hood tight around her face. Looking both ways down the adjoining street, she moves out from the alley, doing her best to blend in with the crowd, unsure of where exactly she is going.
"This is a bad idea..."
The amulet’s magic takes hold of Alessia. It is a potent glammer. Her skin, what little can be seen, becomes fresh and whole. There is a sensation of breathing, of lungs inflating. Her eyes suddenly swell with oracular fluid. It is almost disturbingly painful
As the glamer takes hold, Alessia lets out an involuntary gasp and doubles over in pain, slumping against a wall.
"Definitely a bad idea. Should have expected as much from a cenobite."
Feeling sensations she hasn't felt in hundreds of years, she fumbles with the straps securing her mask of stony demeanor. Wrenching the porcelain away from her face, she stows it in her belt pouch, hyperventilating as she pulls her hood even tighter. She picks herself up, shaking slightly.
Picking a direction at random, she hurries along with the crowd, hoping no one has noticed her brief moment of weakness.
"Stupid..."
The early peak crowd brings Alessia along in its wake towards the Great Bazaar. No one in the crowd seems to note her, which is an odd feeling as she had gotten used to people staring or giving her a wide berth.
The Great Bazaar is a sea of stalls and tents, with a core of huge buildings at its center like an island rising from a rainbow-colored sea. The area is immense, bigger than many cities Alessia has seen. Around the periphery of this bazaar is a ring of brick and mortar shops, fading into the Guildhall Ward beyond.
Alessia sees a panoply of odd characters hawking their wares. Many wear the sigul of Indep affiliation. There are other factions in the crowd: Red-armored Harmonium, dark-clothed Dustmen, the working-class canvas pants and wool shirts of the Godsmen, the peacock-bright Mohawks and leather gear of the Xaositects. A woman with a shaven head and a blindfold over her eyes stands on a corner, the Athar symbol tattooed on her forehead
“Fortunes told, and futures seen! All for a stinger and a green!”
Alone in the chaos of an average day in Sigil, Alessia feels oddly uncomfortable without Justin and Karrin and the others acting as navigators. Her hood still pulled tightly around her face, she weaves her way through the bazaar, trying to acclimate herself to the noise and distractions of the crowded street.
However, she cannot help but find herself drawn to the tattooed fortune-teller. She cautiously edges her way toward the woman, keeping an eye out for obstacles, or worse, an ambush. After some time, she makes her way to the corner.
"I do not have any money," she says in a low voice. "Perhaps I have something to... trade?"
The woman turns to Alessia
“Poppet, I can see your aura. Purple like a deep bruise in flesh. You have been severed from life, yet you still cling to an unfinished task”
The woman shakes her head
“I need no money, my poor poppet. Your fortune shines bright”
The woman touches her forehead. He voice deepens
“Your life was stolen. You seek the thief. Vengeance fuels your existence, but it is a bitter sustenance. Your anger masks a fear. Fear that there is more to lose. Fear that you slowly become more like the thief you hunt. That fear is real. You will face your nemesis in time, but how you arrive there is the key to your destiny. Remember yourself. Do not let your rage fashion you into what you despise”
The woman shakes herself, as if emerging from a pool of water
“Lady’s luck upon you, poppet”
Alessia's eyes widen with interest, but narrow with suspicion after the seer delivers her prophecy. Her hands drop from her hood to her sides, closer to the hilt of her sword, and her posture stiffens.
"Somehow, you seem to know me. Yet, your words are vague, and you decline payment. You..."
She appears uncertain for a moment, then squares her shoulders in a more aggressive stance, pointing an accusing finger at the fortune-teller.
"You know something. I assume you require payment for the specifics. As I said, I have no coin. If you will not trade, I will find my future elsewhere."
Despite her posturing, Alessia seems slightly rattled.
The seer smiles
“Prophecy is not an exact discipline, poppet. I sense the tide, see the waves, but I cannot tell you how they will exactly break upon the shore. Nothing is written in stone, it is all shifting sand. I can tell you what MAY be, but I cannot tell you what WILL be. “
She looks at Alessia, seeming to see her even through the blindfold
“My gift informs my actions. If it tells me to tell you what I see, I do so. That warning was to help you, and help everyone around you. Take it in the spirit it was offered”
Alessia gives the seer an odd look, removing her hand from the hilt of her sword.
"I... apologize. I am unused to receiving... gifts. I only wish to know... why would you want to help me? What do you gain from this?"
The seer snorts
“I gain nothing. I serve my gift. It sees a good in telling you. All things serve the Wheel”
The seer continues
“If you would find what you seek, you must search among the dead. Your quarry is known to them.”
K(local)10
At the seer's pronouncement, Alessia's memory suddenly turns to Mara's earlier words. Unused to having to control her facial expressions, she grimaces involuntarily.
"I understand."
Her eyes widening in realization, she fishes around in her belt pouch for a moment, then produces a small handful of gold coins, each bearing a rearing lion on the reverse and a portrait of a fat, bald, mustachioed man on the obverse.
"I apologize, it's been so long that I'd forgotten I even had these. They aren't what you'd asked for, but please take them."
Without waiting for an answer, she presses the coins into the seer's hands, bows, then heads in the direction of the Dustmen's enclave, once more drawing her cloak tight about her face, her expression set and hardened.
She knew... Mara knew. And she didn't tell me...
Alessia hurries down the Sigil streets towards the Lower Ward and the Territory of the Dustmen. It is a few hours walk, and the Peak brightness increases as she trudges onward. The cloudy fog keeps her cloaked as she heads down the puddled streets. She walks through the Nobles District, not sparing a thought for the rich merchants in their massive mansions. The Court District rears up after, its grey government buildings drear and cyclopean in the foggy morning.
Alessia hurries along the crowded streets of the Temple District, the various worshippers crowding the roads. She enters the Lower Ward, passing by the immense complex of buildings known as the Great Foundry. Sulphuric smoke tinges the fog here an unhealthy yellowish hue, and Alessia is disturbed to realize that the acrid air actually subtly pains her. The amulet's magic has given her at least the simulacra of breathing.
The Foundry recedes and the large bazaar of Ragpicker's Square appears. Alessia has often heard Justin nattering about the many bookstores to be found here, but her target lies at its farther end, The Mortuary. The faction headquarters of the Dustmen squats like a stone spider on the edge of the square, serving as the unofficial boundary between the Lower Ward and the Hive. The building itself is shaped like the top of a skull. with spiked decorations and barbed tentactular protrusions. .
The crowd in this area is liberally salted with undead. Zombies in tight leather outfits with sewn-up mouths and numbers tattooed on shaven skulls ferry goods to and fro. an Inn called the Carrion Crow is filled with higher-order undead - ghouls, wights, vampires. They are all eating and drinking ... things. There is a fair amount of traffic in and out of the Mortuary. The main gates are open. There do seem to be guards checking visitors.
The crowd in this area is liberally salted with undead. Zombies in tight leather outfits with sewn-up mouths and numbers tattooed on shaven skulls ferry goods to and fro. an Inn called the Carrion Crow is filled with higher-order undead - ghouls, wights, vampires. They are all eating and drinking ... things. There is a fair amount of traffic in and out of the Mortuary. The main gates are open. There do seem to be guards checking visitors.
Alessia makes her way toward the main gates, one gauntleted hand fingering her Necklace of Past Seeming as she registers her discomfort. For her entire mortal life, as well as her centuries of undeath, she has devoted herself to the task of destroying these things. But... she is one of them, and now she needs their help to find what she has long sought.
As she approaches the gate guards, she draws her hood close to her face, seeming both nervous and standoffish.
"I seek the one called Mara. We are... friends. She has information. Let me past."
Alessia’s new party members are busy mourning their compatriot. Alessia stays in the background of the event, saying nothing. She didn’t know the person, and mourning her seemed irrelevant. Her simmering anger and thirst for revenge were the only emotions that hadn’t been burnt away by the long years of her undead quest for Acererak. She had an odd sense that allying herself with these people would bring her closer to her objective. She wasn’t sure why she felt it, but Fate has led their paths to intersect. For now, she would travel with them until she found the tracks of her quarry.
The cenobite Mara walks toward her isolated standing spot. The creature is hidden behind her mortal seeming, all human beauty and grace in a dark silken dress and golden jewelry. A stylized screaming skull pendant brooch, the sigil of the Dustmen, inset with ruby eyes is pinned to her shoulder.
“I see you still travel with these folk” Mara says conversationally
“Do you plan to stay with them? You need not, there are other options. I know you are a powerful entity. The Dustmen are always looking for new members. We are outnumbered by the living, and they fear us.”
[...]
“I understand if you wish to remain a free agent, and I know you have a score to settle. You talked of it back on Tcian Sumere. However, we Dustmen are a valuable resource for those of us that walk the Ashen Path of immortality. For example, I thought you might need a few basic items”
Mara reaches into a small purse she carries and brings forth several items: a black crystal, a pendant with a small obsidian mirror attached, and five dark tiles with red runes
“These are a Crystal of Night, a Necklace of Past Seeming, and tiles of negative energy healing.”
The pale figure inclines its head politely
“Excuse my forwardness. I understand beings like ourselves with ... alternate existences ... value our privacy. “
The figure straightens, keeping its posture studiedly neutral and its hands open
“Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Alucius Merrowborne. I am a factotum, an officer, of a faction in this city known as the Dustmen. We represent many beings who have transcended traditional mortality. Since many beings are prejudiced against our lifestyle we have joined together to protect our interests “
One guard frowns. He is a live human, but he has gone to a lot of trouble to look undead. A layer of makeup gives his skin a pallid green tone. Heavy kohl blackens his eyes.
“If you can wait, I will see if I can locate her. “
He disappears into the complex. A short time later, Mara appears. She wears her human seeming, and is garbed in a flowing gown. A Dustmen Sigul pins a fine Cager cloak at her breast
“Alessia. It is good to see you. What can I help you with?”
“Alessia. It is good to see you. What can I help you with?”
Alessia ignores the pleasantries, still visibly uncomfortable, keeping her hood drawn close around her illusory face.
"We need to speak. In private," she hisses, bluntly.
Mara nods
“Of course. Please come with me “
Mara leads Alessia into the Mortuary complex. The walled area is dominated by the giant spider skull shape of the main building. Mara leads Alessia over to a smaller building along the wall.
The complex is alive, although perhaps not the best word, with activity. Skeletons and zombies are everywhere - hauling, digging and cleaning. Independent undead move around , many accompanied by several lessers.
Mara brings Alessia into the building and takes her to a small room. A desk with chairs greets them. Mara indicates a chair for Alessia, and sits down herself
“So, how can I be of service?”
Alessia remains standing, her fists clenched at her side.
"I spoke with a... seer," she says quietly, in a halting voice. "She said that you know where to find the one I have been hunting. I have been searching for centuries... You did not tell me when we first met."
She pauses for a long moment, then lowers her hood, undoing the clasp on her necklace of past seeming, her face reverting to her usual mummified appearance. The dim red lights within Alessia's empty eye sockets focus to laser-bright pinpricks.
"You will tell me now."
Mara looks at her strangely
“Alessia, you have never asked me for assistance. I’m fact I have offered my help several times. You eventually accepted my offer, most grudgingly. You never directly asked for assistance in your vengeance quest. I’m not even sure WHO it is you seek, although I have my guesses from things you mentioned. “
She tosses her illusory raven hair
“Do you come now searching for assistance? The Dustmen are always ready to assist fellow members”
Mara seems to be genuinely puzzled. Of course her entire look is a lie, so it is hard to judge
“Do you come now searching for assistance? The Dustmen are always ready to assist fellow members.”
Alessia spends several minutes standing silently, clenching and unclenching her fists. Finally, she speaks.
"I am not a member of the Dustmen. I will not join you. Your followers make me... uncomfortable. And I already owe my loyalty to the wizard who freed me. And his... 'friends.'"
She stops for another long moment, half talking to Mara, half talking to herself.
"However... I am in need of your help. If you would find what you seek, you must search among the dead. Your quarry is known to them... You say you do not know. I will tell you."
Another long pause, as if Alessia is internally compiling centuries' worth of scraps of information for the first time.
"A lich-lord, son of a demon. So old that he shed his physical form. Long ago, he served a nameless god, as well as another with one eye and one hand. Later, he conquered worlds and turned them to ashes. That is all I know, save that he constructed a... a place..."
Alessia's shoulders sag slightly as she finishes in a small voice.
"I have been searching for a very long time. And I am very tired. Please."
Mara nods
"I owe those people a debt as well. I will repay some of that with my assistance. You are not will to join us ...yet. That is no matter. The Dead are patient. All come to see things our way in the end"
Mara looks thoughtful
"I think you speak of the lich Acererak. I only know little of his legend, but I know others who can help. Follow me"
Mara leads Alessia deeper into the Mortuary. They move downwards, passing level upon level. Occasionally they pass other undead, some corporeal, some not. A skeleton dressed in chainmail with what look to be pink intesines with lamprey mouths on them weaving from its eyes and mouth passes and one of the pink appendages hisses a greeting to Mara.
Eventually they arrive at a large library. Racks and racks of books, scrolls, tablets, and crystals recede into the gloom. A pale human-looking man walks up, dressed in an ornate tunic. Alessia can sense he is undead, but he masks it very well, and doesn't seem to be wearing a glammer.
"Mara, welcome back! what can I do for you?"
"Erasmus, this is my compatriot Alessia. She was involved in freeing me from my prison. I would assist her in her quest, but she needs knowledge. Thus, we are here to pick your brain ... metaphorically"
The two chuckle
"well, what knowledge do you need?"
"Alessia seeks a legendary lich, the one known as Acererak. "
Erasmus brightens
"Ah! I have much and more about him. What exactly would you know, Mistress Alessia?"
Alessia waits for many minutes before answering, seemingly frozen in place. Finally, she answers.
"I had hoped to track him down on my own. But after all these years... I may not have the strength. The wizard who freed me, Justin, and those he counts as his companions..."
She seems to sag for a moment, then stands tall, squaring her shoulders.
"Tell me everything. I will take this information to them. Maybe together we can complete my final task."
Her head drops for a moment as she speaks in a small voice.
"Maybe... maybe after that, I can rest."
Erasmus beams
"Where to begin? The most famous lich in the multiverse!"
He looks nervously around suddenly
"aside from our own Factol Skall, of course. "
He coughs, a dry dusty sound
"Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Acererak. Millenia ago, he was a fabled wizard, rumored to be the bastard get of a Balor and a female high priestess. He cut a swath of terror through his home world of Oerth, then became a planar wanderer. He spent centuries under the tutelage of gods and demons, learning many dark secrets. It is said at one point he grew tired and sought death by inactivity, building a deadly lair on Oerth known as the Tomb of Horrors, where he slowly decayed and awaited true death. Then, he changed his mind."
Erasmus looks at Alessia
"As I am sure you know, the long years can be enervating to those of us on the Ashen Path of Being. We can live for an amazing amount of time, but we need purpose to thrive. Acererak had lost his purpose for a few centuries, seemingly. But then something re-energized him."
Erasmus continues
"Whatever the reason, he was seen again in various spots. Some claim he had taken over a city that had been blasted into the Negative Material Plane from the Prime in some apocalyptic event. He had decayed to just a hovering skull, much like a mimir, but now he has been seen as his old mummified human form again, and one report had his conciousness residing in some strange construct body."
Erasmus looks at Alessia
"These are the broad strokes, you understand. I can try to find you any particular information you may need."
"Whatever the reason, he was seen again in various spots. Some claim he had taken over a city that had been blasted into the Negative Material Plane from the Prime in some apocalyptic event."
"The city of the dead... I was there. That's where he made me into... this," Alessia hisses, gesturing to her mummified form.
"That was long ago. Where is he now? Tell me, and I will take what you have said to the wizard. He and his companions may be able to find what I could not alone."
Erasmus shrugs
"He has been seen on several planes, and rumor has it that he has been also seen on the prime material plane. Specifically the world that was the original location of his city of Moil. That world is called Ranais"