Seven heads immediately turned to stare slack-jawed at the former factol of the Athar. The aging apostate of Mishakal, the former shepherd of The Lost, was solid and seemed real enough as he stood and examined his guests. He was dressed as a priest, though he lacked a holy symbol, and a gossamer trail of white light seemed to tether his body to the symbol of the Athar that hung upon the wall.
“Who are you?” Florian asked with uncertainty.
“You seem to already know the answer my child. But,” He smiled and paused for a moment, “You would know me as Terrence, factol of the Athar.”
“How’s the maze thing working out for you?” Toras said with a grin.
Nisha kicked Toras in the leg while Clueless gave the fighter a stern look.
Terrence took the mocking question in stride, “That’s one of the things that I find myself unable, or unwilling to speak of. Her Serenity put me there for a purpose, and I suppose that I may one day fully understand it. But till then, and till I am free of my sentence, I will not speak of it.”
“Won’t or can’t?” Fyrehowl questioned.
“Wait,” Clueless asked, “Are you actually Terrence, or not?”
“That’s a complex question on both accounts.” Terrence said with a sigh. “I am all that Terrence was and is. What I… what Terrence thinks and knows, so do I. For all purposes, and from my perspective, he and I are both the same; different aspects of a single person. If you had to define in strict terms like Hashkar would, you might think of me as a magical construct somewhat akin to a sentient mimir or sensory stone, linked somehow to the mind of a living person.”
“Not much difference between you and him then.” Skalliska said respectfully.
“Indeed.” The factol said with a smile as he began to pace the room.
“And so it is the same with all of my fellow factols, though Rhys and Lahar are both free of our sentence, and Sarin and others have passed beyond the veil and into the embrace of the Great Unknown.”
Florian rolled her eyes.
“Think me a fool if you wish. But I’ve stood where you are now, cleric of Tempus. I’ve had my faith broken and destroyed, only to find it again. Sooner or later you may come to the same conclusions.” Terrence said with a mixture of sympathy and candor to the cleric.
“Not likely.” Florian replied.
“That was what I thought at the time too.”
“Anyways…” Clueless said, breaking up the argument that was brewing between the chief priest of the Lost and their own cleric of Tempus.
“Surely you have questions for me? Otherwise I would seek to return to my penance.” Terrence said with a tired sigh.
“Who else is here? What is the purpose of this place?” Tristol asked, his ears perked and his mind hungry for the knowledge.
“All of us that have been from time to time. The factions put in place following the Great Upheaval, and others that have come and gone. Those of us who are dead will be more frank in our responses since we no longer care for the most part, and those among us who are still alive will be more selective in what they are willing to answer.
And as for this place’s purpose? Well, it’s a repository of knowledge. Sigil has a tendency to swallow its past and wholly digest it, leaving nothing behind for scholars to examine. Whether this is by design, or simply happenstance over the past three millennia, I cannot say, but this place was designed to remember all that has passed, and remember it through the eyes and voices of those who made this history; those who made this city what it is.”
Tristol’s ears were fully perked as he mentally absorbed what Terrence had said, and Clueless seemed just as raptly at attention as well. Nisha on the other hand had summoned forth a copy of the mazed Xaositect Factol, the githzerai Karan, and was engaged in a nearly incomprehensible babble of scramblespeak with him.
Clueless licked his lips and asked a question, “Do you know what was asked of you when an elf cleric spoke to you inside the mazes recently? He was sent there by a yugoloth, controlled and forced into it all. What would he have been looking for from you? Because after we managed to free him from the ‘loths’ control, he said that you had refused to answer their questions adamantly.”
“Nisha, stop making faces at Factol Karan.” Toras said halfheartedly while the tiefling was busy standing on her head and giving the githzerai factol a series of loud raspberries.
“I can’t wholly answer that, things being what they are you understand…” Terrence furrowed his brow. “But I can guess what they would have been curious about. They’d probably have tried to find Factol Ambar to ask him the same question. He wouldn’t tell them either if I know him at all. Nor will I answer that question now, you’re not ready for it, and I won’t risk the knowledge spreading from you to those who would abuse it.”
“Damn…” Clueless said.
“But yugoloths you say? That’s worrisome. They hold the gods in contempt, so why…” Terrence shook his head. “I’ve said enough of nothing. This topic won’t go any further than this. They may have threatened my life in the maze, but they didn’t get a word from me. Kill me and I simply go to a better place than what awaits them beyond the veil.”
“That’s fine sir. Thank you for talking to us anyway.” Tristol said with a courteous smile.
“Would you too terribly mind if we ever came back and talked to you about other things?” Clueless asked.
Terrence smiled like a kindly grandfather being visited by his relatives, “Not at all. Till that time…”
And with that the form of the factol shimmered and withdrew back into the symbol on the wall. Ten minutes after that, Nisha had her fill of babbling with her old factol and picking on Sarin and Hashkar. The group let her have her fun, and the tiefling was positively bubbly as they walked towards the next chamber.
“I keep forgetting just how much fun that guy was when he was still around. Except of course when he quit being factol because we were all ‘too crazy’ or ‘not crazy enough’. Ahhh… nostalgia.” Nisha reminisced with a grin.
“Alright, I’m curious about what other factions Terrence seemed to suggest that this place had information about.” Tristol said with a knowledge hungry gleam in his eyes.
“Ooooh… maybe I can pick on the Sodkillers!” Nisha said with just as hungry a gleam in her own eyes.
They chuckled and strode towards the door and into a gallery almost identical to the first. Lining the walls were still the symbols of the factions, but some of them were gone and replaced with others. The Harmonium was missing, as were the Mercykillers. The latter was replaced by the Sodkillers and the Sons of the Mercy: once and future factions.
“Do you guys recognize these?” Fyrehowl asked as she pointed at two unfamiliar symbols.
Skalliska squinted her eyes and looked at them. “The Communals and the Expansionists.”
“… why does it show the expansionist factol as still being alive?” Fyrehowl said with curiosity.
“I’ve heard this one.” Tristol said. “Vartus Timlin, their factol started the faction and made it the most powerful in the city in a very short period of time.”
“Sounds like Darkwood.”
Tristol chuckled, “Almost. Well, eventually the other factions got together and agreed that something needed to be done about him and his faction. So they supposedly petitioned The Lady to do something about him since they considered Timlin and his faction a threat to Sigil, and more importantly to them, a threat to themselves.”
“Petition The Lady?” Nisha perked an eyebrow and giggled.
Florian raised a finger, “The Twelve Factols. That inn in the Lady’s Ward. The statues they have are about the meeting of the other factols regarding Timlin.”
“Exactly.” Skalliska said.
“Well, whatever came of that, Timlin announced in the next week his intention to take down The Lady. How he intended to do so was an open question for history, but one evening he said that he was going to take a walk to clear his mind. Well, he never returned and rumor was that he’d been mazed.” Tristol said as he motioned towards the symbol on the wall.
“And?” Clueless asked.
“Well he apparently was because the Takers and the Mercykillers broke into his maze about six years ago with the intention of stealing the nigh legendary sword Timlin was said to possess. They went in with the knowledge of the maze’s exit and never came back out. Timlin popped out into Sigil not a day older than when he first entered the maze and he left by the first portal he found and could activate.”
“How long was he in there?” Florian asked.
“About two thousand years…” Skalliska said to a chorus of winces and slow whistles.
“What about the other group over there? The Communals?” Fyrehowl asked the aasimar.
“I’m not familiar with them,” Tristol said with a twitch of his ears, “Skalliska?”
“About the same here. I just know that they believed in sharing… everything. And eventually they demanded that The Lady share control of Sigil with them. A day later they and their entire faction headquarters were mazed.”
They nodded to the kobold as she finished.
Tristol motioned to the symbols on the wall, “And of course, the Dusties are still here the same as ever.”
“They’re supposedly the oldest of the modern factions. How old, I can’t really say. But apparently as old as Timlin’s bunch.” Skalliska said as they continued walking.
The next chamber in, the floor was dusted with a carpet of swirling fog, almost like the metaphorical mists of time swallowing up history. Of the symbols on the walls, the only one that was truly recognizable outside of what seemed to be an earlier incarnation of the Fraternity of Order, was that of the Dustmen, with Skall’s faction symbol glowing with the soft indication of his status of having been mazed. Of the others, all of them were dead or mazed.
“Wait…” Clueless said as he recognized one of the symbols. “Well there’s the Incanterium. I wonder if Shekelor might have something to say.”
“You sure it’s a good idea?” Fyrehowl asked.
“Since when has that stopped him?” Tristol deadpanned.
“He’s crazy I tell you.” Nisha whispered conspiratorially in Tristol’s ear.
“Haha. But seriously, I have a few questions for him if he’s willing to talk.” The bladesinger said as he approached the symbol of the ancient faction.
Meanwhile Nisha had ruffled through Tristol’s spell components and pulled out a small glass vial with a live spider dancing around inside. And so while Clueless walked up to speak with Shekelor, the Xaositect rattled the vial around while softly mock shouting, ‘The SPIDERS!!! AAHHHH!!!’
A soft chorus of laughter echoed around Clueless as he touched the symbol of the Incanterium. He ignored it and thought back to his reasons he had for asking the Magicians’ factol a question. It had been nearly a week previous and he had been randomly musing over the golden heavy magic that he had recovered from the Tower Sorcerous. He had very nearly used some of it on the magical tattoo on his back, and on his sword as well, but he’d hesitated at the last moment and decided to hold off till he knew a little more about the material and its history. That the Keepers were interested in it made him even more wary, and more interested as well.
And so, given the thoughts in his head at the time, he had used a legend-lore spell to divine information on the nigh unbreakable globe that had contained the heavy magic itself. Normally such visions gave a random glimmer of disjointed scenes and impressions surrounding a topic. But this time it had given almost a stereo playback of two scenes with the old Factol at stage center.
***
The first of the scenes had been from Shekelor’s point of view. He had been inside a dust caked ruin or cave. Examining some unknown script that ran in circles around a series of pillars, he brushed off the top of a cask or vessel of some sorts. It might have even been some sort of canopic jar, given the surroundings, but when he disintegrated the stone lid there was a familiar looking globe of golden liquid contained inside.
Shekelor had removed the globe and seemed surprised at it; openly wondering about what it was. He hadn’t been looking for it and seemed to have found it by chance and considered it an oddity.
The next scene showed the mage, obviously years later, sitting in his study within the heights of the Tower Sorcerous. His desk had been covered in various tomes and manuscripts, and the globe and its golden interior had taken a prominent place at the center of that organized chaos.
Open and showing the signs of frequent use was a book titled, ‘Laws, Order, and the Utilization of the Sublime Loopholes Therein – Darius Garmundi, 1st factor of the Brotherhood of Order.’
“Not bad. The concept is similar to what I’ve been plumbing here in my spare time. Still, it’s not much more than a curiosity as far as I’m concerned. You pull your things out of raw probability from places that don’t exist till you make them so, and I create things de novo from the raw magic that permeates this world. It’ll be the death of you one of these days for certain…”
Shekelor pushed aside the book and looked at his reflection swirling in the golden depths of the orb in the center of his desk.
“But I have my eyes set on larger prizes. I’ll see the bladed whore on her knees before this is over. She has a weakness. Otherwise why would she have simply imprisoned my predecessor rather than killing him? I’ll find out when I find him. And I’ve got a damn fine idea where you are…”
***
The image of the Incantifers’ symbol pulsed with magic and a moment afterwards a seemingly living Shekelor stood before them. The mage was dressed in robes of black and gold but otherwise simple in their decoration. The man had no need of pretension or elaboration of his person, his power spoke for itself and it had been unquestioned during his centuries long life.
Shekelor looked at the group that had summoned him into existence with an amused scowl on his face. The look and demeanor he conveyed wouldn’t have looked out of place on the muzzle of the Oinoloth.
“So…” He said calmly as he stroked a finger over his closely cropped beard and turned his dark eyes towards Clueless. “You expect me to answer your questions like a mimir of sorts, or perhaps sit and passively tell stories like Swalk’kur?”
“Well, I had a question for you, yes. We’ve been inside the maze that the rest of your faction was consigned to.”
Shekelor chuckled, “Have my two foremost puppets killed each other yet? I was always waiting for one of them to take the initiative.”
“Well, yes actually.” Clueless answered.
“Which one? The corpse or the whore? Mewling children, both of them…”
“The lich. We helped him.”
Shekelor nodded to himself, “Not bad. She’d have killed you. So would I, but she’d have done so just to feed. I’d have enjoyed it.”
“So kind of you…” Clueless said as he rolled his eyes.
The mage grinned like a fiend.
“An orb. Full of golden liquid. Heavy magic. We found it and I have it.”
Shekelor chuckled, “Found it did you? They ransacked my chambers like fiends in an orphanage of angels a few years after I went looking for the Labyrinth stone. Never found it, but…”
“Where did you find it? And what all can I do with it besides the obvious?” Clueless asked.
The wizard scoffed, “Find that out yourself whelp. I won’t coddle anyone. Not in life and not in death. You want power you go find it your own damn self because I’ve always been too busy looking for the same to help the competition.”
“So what
did you find down there in Pandemonium?” The bladesinger asked, changing the topic of conversation.
Shekelor paused and seemed struck by a terrible recollection of something in his memory. He visibly shook for a brief moment.
“Something else. Pain. Horror. Death. Wonder. Majesty. Glory. Take your pick and go look for yourself, obviously my end was somewhat ignonymous in Sigil’s annals of deaths of the powerful. And to think, my entry didn’t end with my being flayed by Her Serenity. Irony if there ever was such a thing.”
Clueless glared back at him. “The orb though. You didn’t make it. You found it. Did you figure out what it was?”
“Enough that others were jealous. I figure you’ve met them as well if you’ve been using it.” The mage said with a sneer, “And I’m right aren’t I? Your reaction says it all. They won’t stop you know. They’ll hunt you down and they’ll find you till they have what they want. They don’t sleep. Of course, neither did I, and they were nothing more than an annoyance to me. I guess you’ll find out if you’re up to it, and you aren’t anywhere close to where I was.”
Clueless didn’t get a chance to respond as Shekelor’s simulacrum vanished in a flash of light, banished by itself apparently.
“Ass of the highest order.” Clueless deadpanned.
“What is it with super powerful wizards and arrogance?” Toras asked.
“Don’t look at me!” Tristol said defensively.
“You’re a super powerful wizard with a tail, I don’t think you count.” Nisha said as she tapped the bell on its tip.
Clueless sighed in frustration as he stared at the Incantifer’s symbol. The mage wasn’t going to be of any help to him if that was any indication of the man’s personality.
“Guys. As interesting as this place is, I really think that we need to get moving.” Florian said.
Clueless and Tristol both cast sullen glances at the cleric.
“I take it you’re grumpy over Terrence? We can wait here if he and you want to kiss and make up.” Nisha said with perfect innocence, punctuated by a jingle of the bell on her tail.
“Haha. Hardly,” Florian said with a genuine chuckle. “Terrence isn’t bad. He’s just wrong.”
“But yeah, she’s right guys. The rats won’t just sit around forever and wait for us to find them. If we sit here and talk to the dead for hours on end they’ll come hunting us down after they regroup.” Toras said with a nod of his head towards the door at the far end of the gallery.
“Alright…” Both Clueless and Tristol said as they cast forlorn glances at the collective knowledge contained within the walls.
***
Something watched and smiled, footsteps echoing down the forgotten hallways as an echo of the past. Actions were taken by malign, methodical intention, but as yet only by instinct. The weight of the years was long and heavy, and what was observed was yet as if though but a dream.
The rats were changing that and the actions were becoming more overt and planned. The intelligence behind them was stirring from slumber and half formed ideas were lurking in its mind, none of them pleasant for those who had invaded its somnolent exile.
In the darkness, something stirred, and it acted.
***
Where are they?! The Us wondered openly as the psionic trail of their hunters and soon to be victims simply ended at a blank wall. There had been a trio of passages there moments before but they had seen nothing.
It mocks us. Behind and in the walls it is watching us and laughing…
The walls gave no reply to the fury of the rats at being denied their prizes.
Irregardless, they will emerge eventually. We will meet them below and kill them when they find their way down to that place… whatever it is…
There was uncertainty in the voice of the collective as they pondered what they had found in the depths as they swarmed like a tide of bodies over the lip of the crevice and down the miles below to the vaults.
***
The gallery was followed by another that was mostly nondescript. Vague patterns in darkness and light upon the walls seemed to suggest another set of even older factions, or perhaps their identity was known to whoever built the history chambers but never integrated into the spells that gave it life. Another possibility was that the chamber was destined to contain details on whatever factions arose –after- the modern factions were all relegated to the dust of another era.
Several twists and turns of the corridors and they found themselves walking through a massive banquet hall decorated with the trappings of opulence. The room would not have looked out of place in the mansions of the Golden Lords of Sigil even in its dust-shrouded state. The tables were still set for a meal with unlit candles, the dust of what had once been flowers and fruit displays, and place settings of silverware and napkins still covering them.
“Well at least there’s no vampires or yugoloths down here!” Nisha said as she was pocketing the silverware on the table.
“Are you sure you should be pilfering the place randomly?” Skalliska asked.
“They’re dead. They don’t care.”
“That’s not always the case Nisha…” Tristol said as he tapped the bell on her tail.
The tiefling didn’t respond but instead starting making faces and a soft, ‘Woooooooooo….’ noise like the groaning of a ghost or specter.
Toras glanced over to Florian, “You can turn undead right?”
“Hmm?” She replied.
“In case Nisha actually pisses some of them off down here?”
“Yeah, not a problem…”
Tristol and Clueless just looked at each other and chuckled as Nisha pocketed a few ivory napkin rings.
Outside of the faded opulence of the banquet room, there was little of interest and they simply took one of the hallways branching off from it and kept on walking. Fifteen minutes later however the corridors seemed increasingly familiar and they had yet to encounter any further actual rooms.
“Guys? We’ve been this way before.” Fyrehowl said with a glance over towards Skalliska.
The kobold looked around, “You’re right. We just came through this way a minute ago.”
“There wasn’t any turn in the hallway though.” Nisha said.
“Yeah, I know.” The kobold said as she tried to get her bearings set again.
“And the last time there wasn’t a room at the end of the hallway.” Fyrehowl said as she peered ahead.
The walls were reorganizing themselves silently as they continued walking.
“Ok, nobody touch anything.” Florian said.
“Sorry I took your silverware…” Nisha said plaintively.
“Sh*t…” Clueless said bluntly as they walked into the room that stood at the intersection of eight different corridors all identical to the one they had been walking through. The floor of the intersection was paved with a glittering mosaic of the placid, serene face of The Lady of Pain.
“I’m not touching anything…” Nisha said as she moved behind Tristol and Clueless.
“Umm… one second. I want to try something.” Clueless said as he warily edged around the edge of the mosaic of Her Serenity, careful not to touch it.
Once on the other side of the mosaic, the bladesinger spread his wings and darted down the passage with a shout of “Be right back!”
“Geez I hope so.” Fyrehowl said warily.
“…” Clueless stared blankly as he suddenly emerged from another of the intersecting passages.
“Space isn’t supposed to work that way Clueless.” Skalliska said as she looked at where he had gone compared to where he had returned.
“I didn’t turn at all. I just went along in a straight line. Wonderful…” He muttered as he darted off down another passage.
A minute later he was back in much the same fashion as before. All of the corridors led back to the same room. They were trapped.
Tristol whispered the words to a spell and examined the latent dweomers within the room. Nothing made sense. The mosaic was … different…
“You alright there Tristol?” Florian asked.
The mage shrugged with confusion, “I’m fine. But there are colors I don’t recognize covering that mosaic. It’s bizarre. The magic is just all wrong.”
“That isn’t good.” Skalliska said.
“Clueless! Something dangerous and stupid for you to do! Go for it!” Nisha shouted.
Clueless smirked, though he was already moving towards the mosaic.
Nisha made no further comment except for a puckish grin.
“In case something happens, you might want to step back.” The half-fey said as he prepared to step onto the mosaic’s surface.
“Huh?” was his only comment as the eyes of The Lady opened with a blinding flash of white light and enveloped him.
The others slowly recovered and blinked their eyes, focusing on where Clueless had been standing just moments before. He was gone and the eyelids of The Lady still glimmered with a trickle of light from where they had opened. Clueless was nowhere to be seen.
****
. Hope this is satisfies everyone’s diverse taste for file extensions 
