Session One - The Cursebreaker
Sigil. It is the impossible city resting on top of the infinitely tall Spire of the Outland.
The City of Doors. It is a metropolis of endless opportunities, where a cutter can find anything if she knows the right people or can pay the right price. If you find yourself in Sigil you can go anywhere. The Multiverse is your playground, and all you need is the right portal to take you to where you want to go. Adventurers crowd and haw and tell stories that make modrons wonder and succubi blush. This is where you want to be.
The Cage. It is a place to hide, to squirrel yourself away. It’s a place where a power can’t go, and where even the proxies of powers don’t have as much influence. And, once you’re tucked away, you can’t leave. The streets and houses, the hustle and bustle, the affluence and scheming and learning here are a trap, and a vague dishonest safety of most of the city belies the hard truth. A prison you choose for yourself is still a prison.
Which is true? What is Sigil really? It depends on who you ask.
“Cities of the Planes”, Volume 1 page 4. Written by Thram Kip
The rain poured down across the city, leaving dirty soot puddles on the ground. Tomorrow hopefully the rain would subside, but then the bellows would blow even more ash into the air, and clouds of smog would replace rainclouds. In the meantime, the Mimir, a pub in Sigil’s Market Ward, was filled with patrons trying to keep dry. Esbjorn could barely keep the steins full, and was barking orders from behind the bar at his only help for the day, the rough-built Abby, to find another barrel of mead and roll it in. His demeanor was harsh and rough, which meant he was is a good mood.
Mehen sat looking out the window of the Mimir with stein in hand waiting for his companions. Alma wanted to talk to them all together, and she had a guest with her. The aasimar belonged to the adventuring group Gungnir's Aim and the two groups often shared stories in the Mimir over a stout drink. Today her mood was different. Her mind was elsewhere, and it wasn’t time for tall tales. So, the dragonborn sat there looking out the window at the rain, thinking about the day’s activity at the Courthouse, and wondering what news she had for them.
This man with her, young, well dressed, and looking very uncomfortable, seemed completely out of place amongst the Norse patrons of the Mimir. He also looked very anxious, and perhaps not just because a fight would break out, usually to be taken outside, every five minutes. Whatever job the two had for the group, it was personal to this guy.
The others showed up one by one.
Aurian arrived first. Most days without work for the group he’d spend engrossed in study of one thing or another, or hanging out with his Free League friends. Today wasn’t much of one for perusing the market, so he was at the Mimir earlier than usual. He took up a seat beside Mehen and managed to get a full stein of mead despite the short supply. They were regulars, and Esbjorn knew how to keep his regulars happy.
Mozzy was next, having come from across town at the Great Foundry, the biggest spewer of ash and soot into the city air. It’s where the Godsmen set up shop, and where most of the city’s industry was forged. She was deep in her apprenticeship, learning the trade of smithing. It was a requirement of the Godsmen that their members learn how to forge metals, and as they forged externally their mind was to be focused inward. It had been a long day, and she was not yet particularly skilled. After any day of hammering and shouting, a beer was just the thing.
Last was Jer. He ran a little shop nearby, but had closed up for the evening. Not many customers had come around anyway, and he was getting antsy. He wasn’t really the “storekeep” type, but it was a good way to get information about what was going on in the city. People tended to have loose lips while shopping. He took the final seat at the small table the group had claimed for themselves.
As Jer sat down, the smalltalk rolled to a close, and Alma cleared her throat. When she did so, the hound at her feet lifted its head, looked up at her, then finding that nothing more than conversation was being had, laid back down to continue its nap.
“My friend here has a problem, and Aim might handle it given different circumstances, but we’ve got to get out of town within the next hour to take care of an old debt. So, I’m hoping you’ll hear him out.” She looked at the man. “This is Colin Herald.”
“Ah… hello.” The man’s voice was quiet and didn’t carry far in the din of the Mimir. He took a breath. “I will get right down to what I need. My father, Gerar Herald, is ill, but… well, I mean to say he’s cursed. And, this is beyond anything the so called experts have been able to take care of. I don’t know exactly what caused it, and I don’t know where he was when it happened…” Colin put his head in his hands, propped up on the table and licked his lips. “I think it was some kind of hag. I can barely make out what my father is saying right now. He doesn’t have long…”
Alma cut in there. “I’ve heard of a cursebreaker in Sigil named Tesa. She’s supposed to be the best at what she does. Colin needs you to track her down and bring her to his father so that she can break the curse. And, as for payment, it’s three hundred gold for a successful job. But, his father’s life is priceless. Payment for the cursebreaker is no object.”
Colin nodded.
Mozzy was the first to speak up. “She needs to be tracked down? Why don’t you know where she is?”
“She is supposed to have a shop called the Eight Watchful Eyes somewhere in Sigil, but no one knows where it is. Or at least, no one I’ve talked to. That’s why I’m bringing you in, specifically. Someone will need to do some digging to find her, and I know that your group has contacts to do just that. Honestly, even if I attempted this myself, I think you are all better suited for this than Aim. This isn’t quite our thing.”
Mehen nodded. “Aurian and Jer have the market contacts. I can check any records surrounding Tesa. Mozzy knows people who wouldn’t talk to just anybody.” He turned to Colin. “We’ll find her. How long do we have?”
“Hours. A day,” the young man responded.
The group looked at each other. It was a tall order, tracking down someone who didn’t want to be found in twenty four hours. Still, they had worked under worse time crunches, if perhaps not with similar consequences. Since time was of the essence, they would need to start right now before the city closed up for the night.
“Anything else we should know?”
Alma answered. “He can’t be moved. You’ll have to bring Tesa to him. You’ll have to convince her.” She slid a paper forward. “Here’s where to bring her.”
Mehen looked at the paper and nodded, passing it to the others. When Colin had said money was no object, he wasn’t kidding. Whatever the family was doing, they were doing it very well.
“Please. Right now, you’re my father’s only chance.”
“Don’t worry,” said Aurian. “This is what we do.”