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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Shoel Sweeny" data-source="post: 2902577" data-attributes="member: 40608">Magnus of Sigil, City of the same name, and of DoorsSigil at night, at this hour, was a madcap of streets and avenues and portals.  Haze and smok and off white lights that sour and obscure thought as well as vision.  For newcomers to the cage, for the Golden Lords stuck up in their thorned towers and the ragpickers deep in the barrens and despair of the Hive, it's a tangled mess of morality and direction unassailable, but for Magnus this is just another trip downtown.  By torchlight and guile the mercenary makes his way to Fortunes Wheel in the Ladys Ward.The guard, a lone indep or maybe sodkiller looking bored and a little moist in the fog turns as you approach, one look at you and he's rapped twice on the door before him, then touched a frogs leg to the wood.  A portal springs up between the inch crevice of bounded space between the door frame and the window.  The doorman whispers private room before waving you through.Mei-Ying, A very tumultuous event in the Hall of SpeakersRelax girl, I'm trying to keep you from biting the iron.  I'm a friend of a friend of a one Seeker Ungol, he told me you were coming to roost and might need a hand getting out of whatever poor business you'd find yourself in, and this looks bad enough to me.The speaker, quite definatley a male of low caste, spins around at your tug.  The man has a mop of tusseled dark brown hair and is dressed in leather hides, sharkskin, and buckles.  A siangham and morningstar rest at oppisite places on his hip, sandals cover his suprisingly manicured toes.  Given his rogueish smile he could be anything from a street thug to disgraced Ronin.   Now that you're (temporarily) out of danger he lets go and motions you towards the exit, now only mostly crowded over with peoples and not so peoples of all kinds.You really did come at a bad time, the Hall ain't always this bad.  Y'see we're in the middle of organizing a new Sigil calendar what with the ah...recent events.  It might be the sodkillers month, or so that was the plan untill a Tanaari warband gated in and decided this was their day, and naturally the Xaositects decided today was Xaos day, and you can imagine how those go over.  Anyway, I'm taking you to The Imaginary Meal as a favor for Duhrnquest Peelhollow, a mutual friend of Ungol.  Said he had information you might be intrested in.  The man begins to jaunt towards the exit, but with an afterthought tosses his head back and waves you forward.  Name's Cosh By the Way.  Ranger of the Planes extrodinaire, occasional tout to the cluelessCosh turns back to the exit his steps quick and light despite the crowd; going just slow enough that you'll be able to catch him among the ruckus, albeit barely.  Only a few bodies behind you the sounds of battle are heating up, you can hear a clash of metal on metal.Halidon and Ronthias, Grand GymnasiumThe comlex is eerily silent as you approach the grounds.  Though you expect the lack of gaurds, the obvious lack of any activity at all is unsettling.  Any other night, even this late, the Gym would be practically fluid with Ciphers and anyone attempting to attune their mind and body.  Instead you find empty halls and echoless corridors.  You can feel it in the air the same way you can expect the next chord of a harmony, even to a song you've never heard.  The Gym is empty because it must be empty, no one is here because none must see what transpires, each soul knows this as surely as it hears the cadence.  You follow staircase after staircase, emptying your mind as all Ciphers must to navigate the instinct guided tunnels of the Gymnasiums upper levels.  When at last you stop, by intuition rather then exhaustion, you see the Chairwoman standing before a the door to the Eastern Terrace, a purple candle held in her right hand.  Rhys is tall with billowing (even in absence of wind) black hair and the flowing robes of a monk.  She has elvish ears and the shins and feat of a cloven goat.  At first glance she seems somewhere between exotically beautiful and woefully alien.  It is her gaze; focused, demure, and solemn, which reminds you why she is held in such awe by so much of Sigil.  The Lady Factol bows once, curtly but with respect, to Ronthias.Welcome back master Ronthias.  Vash the Taciturn is sick, this way.  He spoke your apprentices name in his madness, can you or Halidon explain this?</blockquote>

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