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"
Alessia hurries down the narrow alleyways and crowded thoroughfares of Sigil, her cloak drawn tightly about her. Away from Ragpicker's Square, through the Lower Ward, she walks, buried memories from a lifetime ago bubbling up to the surface of her rage-clouded mind. She tries to focus on what she's learned from the Dustmen.
Prime... Moil... Ranais... Acererak...
As she detours around the Great Bazaar and onto familiar streets, the seer's words return unbidden to her in a jumble of half-remembered phrases and words.
Anger. Vengeance. Fear.
Though she knew where she was going, she's still somehow surprised to find herself at the door to the Copper Cauldron. She pauses at the door, momentarily unsure of whether she should enter or just pick a direction and keep walking.
All things serve the Wheel.
Alessia opens the door and enters, making her way to a dark corner. She sits, waiting for Justin.
Justin, after waking up and pondering his night at the Fallen Angel and his discussion with Rotting Jack, decides he is going to talk to O.L.L.I. about Tenebrous and who he actually is. Just as he prepares to fly off, his stomach growls. Loudly. He pats it absently like an antsy pet and decides that he can wait to get answers until after having one of Bess’ Sigil-renown omelettes.
It is early when he enters the inn, but there is trade, even this early before Peak. Bess serves a wide clientele, and there is a mix of early-rising tradesmen and just-knocking-off jinkskirts eating in the large common room.
Justin looks over at the regular table the Silver Rose congregates at and sees a dark figure in shadow sitting near it. He starts for a second before recognizing Alessia staring at him, her figure blending into the shadows effortlessly
Alessia sees the lanky wizard swirl into the room, bundled as if preparing for a walk in the cold Sigil rain. He shakes himself at the entrance, then ambles her way before pulling up short as he spies her. He smiles at her, but the smile slowly fades
Justin tries to hold his smile, thinking maybe, just this once, Alessia would at least nod in acknowledgement.
(Heck she could actually crack a smile, or stick her tongue out at him. She might be Sigil's greatest undead comedian. Her deadpan delivery is undeniably perfect. But it's not like he could tell with that mask in place.)
Justin coughs gently, clearing his throat as he surrenders and pulls out a chair at the table, waving to get Bess or her siblings' attention. He orders a large omelet and Kafe, (fuel for the body AND the brain!) and settles into the chair. His mind racing as he goes over everything that he just learned, and wondering if O.L.L.I. can help him dig up in more info. The wizard settles for addressing the conundrum in front of him.
KNowing that Alessia is likely not impressed with his usual 'Charms' (IE=long-winded-esoteric-psuedo-magical-gibberish trying to make him sound as smart he is convinced that he is,) Justin decides to try something Comepletely different. Short, simple conversation.
"Hello Alessia. Pleased to see you here this early in the Peak. Surprised, but pleased." The wizard admits.
Justin turns to look back over his shoulder at the door he just entered. The door Alessia is still squarely facing.
"Are you, waiting for someone?" The wizard asks, genuinely curious.
Alessia takes a few moments before responding, her stare seemingly boring a hole into the wall somewhere over Justin's shoulder. The stiff, formal way she sits gives Justin the impression that she's deeply uncomfortable at being there.
"Waiting for you... I spoke to the Dustmen. I have information."
Justin nods politely, taking in the fact that Alessia seems,... less than comfortable at the moment.
"I'm flattered. AND impressed. You spoke to the Dustmen, and got information from them? That's impressive. Not an easy feat."
Justin leans forward. He is outwardly calm, but unable to keep the cheerfulness from his eyes.
"I love information. How can I help you Alessia?" The wizard asks with a small smile.
Alessia digs her armored fingers into the wood of the table, leaning forward slightly.
"Do not patronize me," she hisses.
She leans back.
"I know where he is."
Justin pauses, fork halfway to his mouth, at Alessia's hissing response. But he remains calm (on the OUTside) and finishes his bite before responding.
"Apologies. No offense meant Alessia. But that wasn't patronizing. I'm dea,.. um, very serious. It is NOT easy to get anything useful out of the Dustmen. Believe me, I've tried." Justin eyes glaze over briefly at a fleeting memory of fighting and running through the halls of the Mortuary.
Then the realization of what Alessia said hits him,and Justin almost drops his fork. The wizard leans forward and hisses in a low voice that makes him sound like the undead warrior.
"Do you mean to tell me,... you know the location of the, individual, who did,..."
Justin gestures at Alessia, and then gestures vaguely up and down a couple of times at a loss for words.
",... to you?!?"
Justin's eyes widen as he contemplates a few moments.
The wizard leans forward even further and whispers so low even Alessia sitting across the table can barely hear him.
"Alessia. THAT is not just 'information'. Anywhere in the Multiverse, THAT bit of knowledge is a friggin' GOLD MINE!"
Justin sits back in the sturdy chair, eggs growing cold and forgotten on his plate. He strokes his goatee slowly as he thinks for a moment,or two.
"You know where he is. So,... You need a plan. You want to know how to END him. Right?"
"You know where he is. So,... You need a plan. You want to know how to END him. Right?"
"I do not know if we can. Do you know of whom I speak?"
Justin actually looks mildly surprised at that confession from Alessia.
Justin has never known her to be doubtful of her abilities.
(With good reason. He's SEEN her work.)
The wizard reclaims his fork and snags another bite of omelet.
"I,... No. Not precisely. I don't believe you've ever given me a NAME. I gathered that it was a powerful wizard, or some undead sorcerer?" Justin asks before taking his bite of cooling but still delicious food.
"I,... No. Not precisely. I don't believe you've ever given me a NAME. I gathered that it was a powerful wizard, or some undead sorcerer?"
With a sound of splintering wood, Alessia digs her fingers deeper into the edge of the table.
"Not so simple a description. An ancient arch-lich. Wizard-priest of the Forgotten God, apprentice to the King in Chains himself. Acererak."
Justin raises an eyebrow, nods, and raises another forkful to his mouth,...
Where the fork hangs for a moment or two, before clattering to the plate, dropped from frozen fingers.
"Waitjustanowlbearpickinminutehere,...."
Now that it has registered, Justin doesn't need time to ponder the name. ANY wizard-arch-mage-sage-wannabe worth his salt that has opened more than two tomes in his career has at least HEARD of that name before.
The wizard places both hands on the table, and leans forward slowly.
"Did you say,... Acererak?!? As in ACERERAK Asererak?!??!"
Justin begins to rise, slowly, from his seat as he continues,...
"As in, Acererak who built the so-called 'Tomb of Horrors'? The Arch-lich Acererak? Or DEMI-lich Acererak? Depending on which version of the tale you've read recently?"
Justin finally manages to remember where he is, and regains some composure.
"THAT friggin' Acererak?!?" he hisses softly through clenched teeth.
Justin slowly reclaims the rest of his composure, his seat, and his fork, in that order. The wizard shakes his head ruefully with the ghost of a smile.
"Dang Alessia!" Justin continues as if they were casually discussing the last world they visited.
"I KNEW you were hard-core. I mean, Dang! I dream big, but your backstory is more bad-@$$ than any of my hoped-for future plans!"
Justin finally takes another bite and chews thoughtfully.
"Mmmm." He nods after a moment. "You are gonna need one HECK of a plan!"
After another thoughtful moment he adds, "And friends. The more the better."
Then Justin cracks his infamously annoying, yet somehow still endearing smirks.
"Lucky for you, you met us!"
Alessia slams her hand onto the tabletop.
"I am not in the mood for your jokes, wizard," she hisses.
She pauses for several beats before continuing, her voice very quiet.
"Friends will be of no help to me. When Acererak was first defeated, the archmage Manzorian brought an entire army, and even then only he and his sword-brother barely escaped with their lives."
Alessia remains silent for a moment, her eyes burning as her hands curl into fists.
"When the arch-lich reawakened, I led four of my most trusted companions to destroy him. In my arrogance, I thought our... friendship would be enough. It cost everything. I will not make the same mistake again."
Justin starts at Alessia's display of temper. The wizard tosses a small smile at the curious head that pops out from the kitchen at the noise.
To his credit, Justin actually takes a moment, and looks thoughtful.
The wizard puts down his fork and slides his plate aside. (Not an easy feat for the usually-hungry mage!) Justin looks at Allessia (or at least at her mask) for another long few moments.
"I'm sorry about your companions Alessia. Truly. I didn't know. But I should have guessed. You don't seem the type to recklessly take on a lich single-handedly. Especially THAT lich." Justin says somberly.
A horde of questions go galloping through the wizard's mind, leading the charge is the question "WHY did he kill the rest, but turn you into an undead instead?!?" But a glance at the marks Alessia is leaving on the table and the chair, and he decides they can wait til later.
Much. Later.
The wizard puts his elbows on the table and steeples his fingers together. He rests his lips on the tip of the steeple as he thinks. He stays in that position for so long, it begins to look as if the Wizard and the undead warrior might be having a staring contest.
Finally Justin lifts his face from his fingers and speaks.
"Yeah. I'm not sure he can be 'ended' either. The stories and accounts I've read all agree that he is EXTREMELY resilient. Even for a Lich."
"But,..." The wizard continues briskly and business-like. ",...EVERYone, and everyTHING, has a weakness. If you can find it, you can beat him."
The wizard shrugs. "Even if you can't 'Defeat' him permanently, if your right and he's loose again, the Planescape would be much better off if someone were to toss his bony booty into a deep, dark hole and bury him. Preferably a hole that he DIDN'T build and has full control over."
Justin reclaims his plate, "Maybe toss in an item enchanted with a permanent Anti-Magic Shell for good measure before you fill it in."
The wizard seem to be very studiously studying his plate as he loads another bite onto his fork. Or is deliberately NOT looking directly at Alessia.
"I mean. It won't bring your friends back. Or undo what he did to you. But leaving his bony arse to rot away, powerless, while buried at the bottom of a VERY deep hole for a few hundred-thousand years would seem to be a good starting point for revenge. Maybe?" He asks before taking another bite.
"I mean. It won't bring your friends back. Or undo what he did to you. But leaving his bony arse to rot away, powerless, while buried at the bottom of a VERY deep hole for a few hundred-thousand years would seem to be a good starting point for revenge. Maybe?" He asks before taking another bite.
"Perhaps," Alessia states flatly. "If I tell you what I know, will you be able to devise a plan?"
After a moment, her posture stiffens.
"You will require payment for your services."
A horde of questions go galloping through the wizard's mind, leading the charge is the question "WHY did he kill the rest, but turn you into an undead instead?!?" But a glance at the marks Alessia is leaving on the table and the chair, and he decides they can wait til later. Much. Later.
Justin scrapes up the last bite of food from his plate and chews it thoughtfully. Finally he nods, slowly, and pushes his now empty plate to the side.
"Can I come up with a plan? Yes. Sure. That's kind of my thing. Will it be a GOOD plan?" The wizard shrugs. "Well,... That depends. On a LOT of things."
Justin once again places his elbows on the table. He interlaces his fingers, and rests his chin on top. His brow furrows and you can almost hear the wheels spinning.
"I think," Justin finally says slowly, "That to come up with a plan that has ANY chance of dealing with, him, will take time. And planning. And more time."
The wizard leans back in his chair and looks at Alessia. He drums his fingertips on the tabletop. He cannot help it, a bit of his usual smirk sneaks out. (Believe me, he tried to prevent it.)
After a moment, her posture stiffens.
"You will require payment for your services."
Justin is slow, but he can be taught. Instead of talking about friendship or 'fellow Rose member' or anything else, he just nods slowly.
"Well. A working wizard never turns down payment. BUT, why don't we see how much good I can do for you before we talk about 'payment', alright?"
Justin holds up his hands and spreads them with only a hint of his smirk.
"What do you know? Where do we start?"
Alessia looks down at the table for a moment, seeming to be picking through a tangle of thoughts and memories, then looks up.
"There was once a Prime world, much like Oerth," she recites. "Ranais. Long ago, it was conquered by a forgotten god of evil, and its corrupted citadel was ripped from the world and cast adrift. That is where Acererak's spirit dwells. I was there once, long ago. It is a place called Moil."
Justin nods slowly.
"Ranais we're familiar with. So, Acererak was involved into whatever turned it into an entire world of undead?" Justin shakes his head at the thought of whatever devastation happened to Ranais.
"That's not the same citadel that we met you is it? I mean, How many corrupted citadels tossed out into the Planescape ARE there?"
"That's not the same citadel that we met you is it? I mean, How many corrupted citadels tossed out into the Planescape ARE there?"
"That's not the same citadel that we met you is it? I mean, How many corrupted citadels tossed out into the Planescape ARE there?"
Justin nods slowly.
"Ranais we're familiar with. So, Acererak was involved into whatever turned it into an entire world of undead?" Justin shakes his head at the thought of whatever devastation happened to Ranais.
d20+21
"That's not the same citadel that we met you is it? I mean, How many corrupted citadels tossed out into the Planescape ARE there?"
Justin has read the fascinating tale of Moil in several sources, as well as tales Memnon has shared since he joined up with the party.
The undead world of Ranais had begun as a typical prime world. Slowly, over time, a group of cutters known as the Syndics of the Abyss took power in one of the larger countries. They were demon worshippers, and they mercilessly attacked their neighbors over the course of several decades until they had essentially consolidated the world into one huge fortress of evil.
One of the main demons worshipped was He Who Should Not be Named (Often). Moil was his favorite city on Ranais, which had taken him as their patron. At one point, there was a revolt by the citizens there, led by a group known by the sobriquet of the Rebirth of Dawn. They briefly captured the city, which infuriated You Know Who. He directed the Syndics to use an untested superweapon fueled by necromantic energy tapped from the Negative Energy Plane itself. It succeeded in destroying Moil, but it also caused Ranais' very biosphere to die, transforming the entire world into one huge nest of undead (as the party has seen).
Years later, Acererak was traveling in the unexplored regions where the Deep Ethereal, Plane of Dream, and Negative Energy Plane intersect. He discovered Moil, seemingly intact, lodged in one of the eddies in that strange location. Like Ranais, it had become undead infested. Unlike Ranais, there were no portals that led to it, at least not directly. Acererak claimed it as his own personal redoubt, and set to stocking it with traps and monsters as was his hobby. Moil is often called the City of Horrors, in a homage to Acererak's first redoubt, the Tomb of Horrors.
"Oh. Wait a minute,..." Justin murmurs as his brain kicks into overdrive, and he mentally heads through his 'Mental Mansion', opening doors and rifling through memories until he has compiled most of what he has read and heard about 'Moil' over time.
The wizards' eyes widen, and he shares what he recalls with Alessia.
"Yeah." Justin finally adds after a few moments of silence pass since his explanation.
"Moil is not so much a 'Citadel' as it is a friggin' Nightmare. On growth magic. Taking him down THERE will take more than a plan. Even a good plan. It will take a genuine, honest-to-Powers Miracle. With a Capital 'M'."
Justin strokes his goatee thoughtfully.
"SO. Back to weaknesses. We need to find his. So we can lure him OUT of Moil, and deal with him in a location and time of our choosing. Which brings us back to time. And research. And planning. And more time."
Justin's eyes suddenly widen, and he almost grins with childish glee.
"Yes. That's not only probably the best, if not only, way to deal with him. But it would be SUCH poetic justice too boot!"
Justin smiles.
"We need to convince Acererak that we have something that he wants, or needs, or fears, or whatever. And then we let him 'discover' where it is hidden. In a place few, if any, can get to. So he has to retrieve it himself. When he goes to retrieve said 'MacGuffin', we do to HIM what he has done to so many others over the centuries. We bury him beneath so many traps and monsters that even the great Acererak can't survive them all. And if he somehow manages to get to the end, we'll be there, waiting to finish the job."
Justin shrugs.
"I mean, it's a bare-bones plan. Needs a LOT of work. But,... yeah. Worth it to avoid traipsing into the proverbial Meat-Grinder that is Moil."