Rupert brightens immeasurably. "I no haves to go to Abyss? I gets to go to
Sigil? *yip* Oh thankyouthankyouthankyou!! (smack!)" He gets down and starts kissing Burrow's feet again, with all his usual slobbery enthusiasm.
With that settled, you bid a not-so-fond farewell to Daubei's Obscure Woe (as predicted by Zoe, the ghost doesn't dare show its ugly mug as you leave, and is probably still licking its wounds somewhere below ground) and head back towards the portal to Sigil. Rupert is more than glad to show you the quickest route down, since he seems quite familiar with the maze-like streets of Lower Torch, hopping excitedly from one scaled foot to the other as he leads you down the garbage-strewn streets.
Unfortunately, someone else has other ideas....
Just ahead of you stands the obsidian archway from whence you entered this benighted city, but in front of it, however, an ancient crone, wizen and feeble, sits incongrously atop a muscular stallion blocking your path. The steed is as black as midnight on Pandemonium, and it paws at the ground with fiery hooves. From the horse's saddle hang four long, squirming wormlike creatures with the heads of men.
"Well, well," cackles the hoary old woman, a foul, toothy smile crossing her crooked lips. "Such a band of powerful heroes I've never seen. Off to fight in the Blood War, perhaps? Are you hunting down an artifact made of a lich's hand or eye? Or..." and here, her voice turns sly and arch, "Or maybe you've stumbled your way into a plot you haven't even tumbled to...."