primemover003
First Post
OK hopefully the confusion between two similar threads doesn't muck up my story! I'm reposting Swords against the Savage Tide here because I was having trouble editing my long posts in the other thread.
[sblock=The set up] In this campaign I'm having my group resurrect their old 2nd ed Planescape band of fiendslayers and sending through Dungeon's Savage Tide Adventure Path as a classic Planescape style campaign. Starting at 10th level I'll obviously have to scale some parts of it as I want to begin with Here There Be Monsters, the 4th chapter of the path (normally for 7th level characters). Adapting it to the planes will be even more interesting then I thought!
The first three adventures (HTBM, ToD, and CoBI) will all take place on the Beastlands, in and around the Forbidden Plateau (substituting for the Isle of Dread), TLD will take place in Pandemonium's 3rd and 4th layers. I'm not sure exactly how to fit in SoS yet, but by the time we get there (probably march) I'll have it done.
The Players...
The set-up...
Lavinia is the daughter of Factol Darius of the Sign of One (a planar Faction that maintains a presence on the Beastlands). Factol Darius, a potent seer, dreams of an upcoming demonic assault on the colony of Farshore (a Faction holding on the Beastlands) and sees the PC's there stopping it. She asks the PC's to protect her daughter and the colony which studies the Forbidden Plateau hoping to learn more about the "dead" pantheon whose realm lies there.
Vanthus becomes the leader of a demonic led force of tielfing Vile Hunters (a planar sect), Tanar'ri, and Doomsguard (another of Sigil's Factions). Vanthus' backstory changes to that of the scion of the tanar'ri general Za'rafass who was killed in a raid on the Concordant Domains of the Outlands (in which Darius' divinations played an instrumental role). Vanthus leads a campaign to wound Factol Darius' political base by destroying the colony and her heart by kidnapping her daughter.[/sblock]
Here is the tale of the adventuring brotherhood known in the City of Doors as the Sword.
Session #1 - A Call to the Hall...
Darius sat upright, her heart racing. "Oh, what dark Imaginings," she breathed. The Factol of the Sign of One had been troubled by ominous portents for many nights. A powerful seer and diviner her dreams often came to pass, by which she came to lead one of the City of Doors mighty Factions. She pulled her robes closely around her and donned her wimple before summoning her Factor. A well dressed courtier entered the bed chambers of the Factol and bowed before her. Darius focused her thoughts and spoke, "Seek out the members of the Sword. Summon them to the Speakers Podium. Bid them make all haste, for my Dreams do call to them."
* * * * * * * * * *
The Courier jogged lightly through the smog choked alleys of the Foundry district, her hand on her dirk and eyes alert for danger. The Lower Ward of Sigil was no place to let your guard down! Knights of the Post and worse would bob a clueless berk in a blink of an eye. Turning a corner the messenger approached the vast complex that was the Great Foundry, Faction Headquarters of the Believers of the Source. Even here at its gates she could feel the heat of the foundries and forges, the hammering of metal ringing in her ears. The godsmen manning the posts challenged her approach. Holding up a sealed scroll case she brushed the hood away from her face. A trio of blue concentric rings tattooed on her brow attested to her standing in the Courier's guild. "I'm looking for Sir Lucien Bradley, the Source Knight," she piped.
The Believers directed her to small forge near the faction flophouses in the rear of the complex. Pounding away at a gleaming mithril breastplate stood a monstrous gray-skinned humanoid in naught but trousers. He looked up at the slight girl before him and called back into the shack. "Lucien, someone's here for ya." The Courier expecting a paladin wasn't surprised when the sandy haired Aasimar stepped out the door. What did astonish her though were the gold tinged wings sprouting from his back, a sure sign he was blessed by the powers of Good. The Aasimar fished out a few silver coins from his russet purse, handing them to the girl as she delivered her missive. "Thank you miss." His warm smile faded as he read the parchment within the scroll case. The paladin turned to the goliath, "Grab your Maul Deek. It seems we are needed."
* * * * * * * * * *
A light rain was falling and tiny trickles of water dripped on the table. Duklar leaned back in the comfortably carved chair his face shadowed by his deep hood. He gripped a warm polished mug full of foaming Golden Hills Bitter Ale, quite arguably the finest of the selection to be found at the Wandering Treant Inn. Across the table his recently acquired partner dug into a small roast hen and chased a mountain of buttered potatoes as they tumbled off his plate. As the lumbering Treant walked across Dothion, the first layer of Bytopia, the Inn built in it's massive branches swayed along with it's strides. "How's the vittles, hun?" asked the dimpled gnome as she set a trencher of warm dark bread and cheese down. The Half-orc looked up at her briefly and grabbed a hunk of bread but said nothing. "Well that's rude!" she spat. The lounging scout kicked his well worn boots on the table and took a long drink from his mug. "Don't mind Yark there. He don't speak a lick, 'specially while he's eating." The Gnome peered across the table at the wiry man. He wore well worn hunting leathers all a neutral shade of gray, green, or brown. She couldn’t tell which. He sat with his face hidden in the folds of his deep hood but she saw his eyes glowing dimly in the gloom. She reflexively shivered and the thin tiefling slid his smokey goggles back onto his face. Duklar took up his mug again and turned to regard his chum. “Well Yarky, this here is the closest thing to civilized livin’ that I want to take part in. Hard to feel confined when you live in a tree!”
The Half-orc blissfully continued eating unaware of the scouts ramblings. That is until a tiny bird streaked through the tree branches and raindrops appearing in front of the both of them. The jittery little thing hopped from one foot to the other twittering speedily. Yark crinkled his brow at the curious little avian and swiped his meaty paw at it. It zipped into the branches above his head before his hand was even close and chirped in an angry staccato. “Well who’d be sending an Astral Streaker to find me?” asked the Scout. He whistled a little at the flustered bird which promptly flittered onto his waiting hand. A small blue steel ring circled the birds leg trailing a fine adamantine chain that attached to a capped tube. Duklar unscrewed the tube and found a brief note asking him to return to Sigil and the Hall of Speakers to meet his companions of the Sword. The tiefling hated everything about that city. One of Sigil’s many names was the Cage and to Duklar that’s exactly what it felt like. Still the mention of his companions piqued his curiosity. He ordered another ale and gulped it down wiping the nutty foam from his lips. Nudging the half-orc he signaled they were leaving. Yark walked his fingers along the table and shrugged, his simple way of asking where they were going. Duklar pulled a gold band off his slim finger, made a rude gesture with the digit and held the ring above it. Yark nodded in complete understanding.
* * * * * * * * * *
The streets of Thrassos hummed with excitement as colorful circus tents sprung to life seemingly overnight just outside of town. The philosophers and merchants of the town took time out of their days to explore the Menagerie. Exotic animals from around the planes were displayed in cages that seemed made of ice, fire, and smoke. Tiny kobold mummers in elaborate garb tumbled and pantomimed for the crowd. These were the “Little Green Men,” stars of the Managerie and the brainchild of Krylara it’s mistress. A native of Thrassos herself the snake-blooded woman took center stage among the troupe of reptilian clowns. With her lithe sinuous body she danced and performed acts of extreme contortion as her Little Green Men capered and frolicked about. A dark skinned tiefling in voluminous robes and a grotesque mask dazzled the crowd with pyrotechnics and displays of minor illusions while singing in a deep baritone.
Walking among the periphery of the crowd, a lank Minotaur in blue leathers kept his eyes open for troublemakers or any overly enthusiastic patrons… something quite common in any Arborean town! For all the merriment being made by the performers it was obvious the hulking ram horned humanoid was in a deep melancholy. Billed as Mephistopheles the Mighty, the Minotaur sometimes performed as a strongman. Lately however he was content to bash a few heads and herd the drunks out after the performances were over. Known to most as Horny, the Minotaur had been growing more and more restless as the circus grew closer to Thrassos. As the kobold mimes danced among the crowd they passed out leaflets and handbills touting the grand finale of the Managerie’s run in the Olympian town. The Mistress of the circus would be wedding her inamorato, the Pyromancer Xerez in a grand ceremonial performance! The entire town was abuzz and it was sure to be the high point of the lazy summer.
For Horny it was a crushing blow for he had fallen in love with the pureblood Yuan-ti. He had followed the Managerie from Sigil after seeing Krylara perform at the Civic Festhall. He fell in with the troupe near the Gatetown of Ecstasy when it ran afoul of a Brood of Tso slavers intent on making the circus their own. Horny had stormed the deck of the Tso’s flying ship, known as an Aracheon, single handedly. His sweeping greatsword made short work of the thralls sent against him by the cowardly Tso masters. The Tso gathered together intent on stopping the murderous force on board their vessel. The eel-faced monsters began weaving their cooperative sorceries, their spider like bodies moving intricately. So focused on the Minotaur they forgot Krylara, whose slipped her bonds thanks to her contortionists skill. She danced in among the spell casters pouncing on the largest slaver sinking her delicate fangs into its slimy neck. The Tso gasped as the poison raced through his veins but it managed to answer the woman’s attack, biting her in turn. Krylara flopped onto the deck paralyzed but successful in disrupting their spell. Horny ripped through the last of the Tso’s defenders and bounded up to the quarterdeck. The five remaining spiders lashed out at the Minotaur with their magic staves scorching and shocking him, but they were cut down like so much Arborean wheat. Horny scooped up Krylara’s prone form and vaulted over the side of the ship landing on the big top below. From that day on Horny remained with the Managerie as its protector. In time the Minotaur learned that while Krylara was fond of him she preferred the company of planetouched men. The yuan-ti rotated through a coterie of tieflings as they traveled the Great Road among the Upper Planes. None lasted over-long until Xerez appeared in a puff of smoke and brimstone.
When the frost-rimed mephit arrived with a summons to the Cage, Horny wasted little time with goodbyes. The Minotaur grabbed his gear which had been nearly packed for days and walked to Thrassos center. A rotunda of white marble pillars marked the Gate to the Outlands burg of Sylvania. Horny stepped into the circle of pillars waiting for the Gate to activate. An aged woman in white robes trimmed in blue sat nearby. “You need the approval of the town elders to pass the Gate warrior,” she stated. Horny sighed in annoyance and his shoulders slumped, “I suppose they’re all down at the circus. Just my rotten luck.” Before he could turn away the matron before him stood from the bench and asked, “Why do you go? Are you not with the circus?” The Minotaur looked up at the woman replying, “No longer. My companions are in need of my aid so I go.” The robed woman looked upon the Minotaur for a moment noticing when he mentioned his companions his posture straightened and his eyes brightened. “Do not worry yourself with the town elders, Champion. I can open the Gate. I merely needed to judge your reason for leaving.” The marble pillars began to glow with a white light blinding Horny for a moment. As the view of the small town faded he almost imagined the old woman’s eyes flash with light before he planeshifted.
* * * * * * * * * *
Constable Arros Firebrand walked briskly through the City Barracks. It was early in the morning and still dark in the Lady’s Ward. He mentally ticked off the number of paces it took to reach end of the corridors he walked, memorized from long hours of guard duty as a Namer in the Harmonium. Arros had received orders to report to the office of Factor Tonat Shar, his commanding officer immediately upon waking. Reached the office he rapped on the door twice and waited. After a few moments he heard a stiff, “Enter.” Stepping through the door he approached the Factors desk snapping to attention two feet before it. Tonat Shar looked up at him. “Firebrand I don’t know exactly what you did to garner the attention of the Factol of the Sign of One but rest assured I will be keeping tabs on you.” The stern faced commandant slid a dossier across his desk to the Constable. Arros lifted the portfolio and scanned its contents briefly. “You are dismissed.” Arros saluted and walked out.
Standing in the hallway outside the Factors office Arros studied the file in his hands noting the summons from the Hall of Speakers, an indefinite leave of duty writ, and a requisition for supplies and stipend. “I’d love to know as well,” he thought. It would take the better part of the day to walk the distance from the Barracks to the Hall of Speakers so he needed to get a move on. He stopped to make his morning devotions to St. Cuthbert in the Barracks communal shrine before heading to the provisioners for collect his final stipend and supplies. Obviously his superiors thought he was going to be gone for an extended time and issued him some basic adventuring gear; backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, two sunrods, ten days worth of field rations, 50 feet of hempen rope, a waterskin, and a spare holy symbol. “Superb,” the constable thought. “They’re sending me Out-of-Town at the very least. Out-of-touch is more likely though.” He gathered up his gear and joined up with a column of fellow guardsmen bound for the Clerk’s Ward.
* * * * * * * * * *
Falyte enjoyed the view from his suite on the upper floors of the Hall of Speakers. Arriving the night before, he had been treated as well as any visiting dignitary or ambassador, put up in a lavish apartment and given every courtesy. He had been curious as to why the Signers had contacted him via sending spell summoning him to their Faction headquarters. Managing one of his own Faction’s gaming halls was distracting for a time but he had long grown bored of the hospitality industry. So when a sonorous voice popped into his head he gladly walked the few blocks from the Civic Festhall to see what the Factol of the Sign of One needed. The balacony afforded him quite a vantage point and it wasn’t long before he saw a winged figure cutting through the sky towards him. He waved happily, greeting his friend who landed nimbly. “Lucien, how are you?” “I am well Falyte, thank you. How do you fare?” The boisterous cleric of Tymora was just starting into his tales of running a gambling hall when he jumped back from the rail with a shriek. A wide grinning face stared at him through the bars of the railing. “By all that is lucky, Deek you scared the hell out of me!” The big goliath laughed as he finished clambering up onto the balcony. “Sorry, but not all of us can fly. Besides prefer climbing to walking up stairs. It gets the blood pumping!” Falyte leaned over to look at Deek’s ascent, marveling at the ease in which the big man scaled the smooth plaster of the Hall of Speakers. “Just count yourself lucky,” the priest winked. “They don’t let Razorvine grow all over the buildings in the Clerk’s Ward. We have an image to think about here!”
It was almost full dark by the time Arros was shown to the apartment and caught up with his companions. They exchanged pleasantries and found each of them had been growing discontent with life in the past months since they had returned from the Abyss. Lucien had some distraction in his budding relationship with Umbra, the alu-fiend maiden whom the group had helped restore a forgotten Faction nearly two years back. She was the daughter of a fallen Harmonium Factor named Durkayle and a Succubus. Umbra was believed to be the One True Being prophesied by Zactar, a priest and orator whose self-named faction had thrived before Sigil’s Great Upheaval nearly 650 years ago. Arros grew quiet as they recounted the rescue of the Alu-fiend from the Hardhead Prefect’s fortress. That raid led to the capture of Lucien, Deek, and Falyte’s former companion. The drow beguiler, Draaven Nightblade, had accompanied the Sword in the raid of Durkayles tower and was locked away in a secret Prison on the plane of Carceri by Durkayle. His rescue was only accomplished with the help of Arros who had chafed under the corrupt Factors command and assisted the Sword in bringing down a ring of evil Hardheads and Mercykillers who sold prisoners to the Yugoloths as slaves or worse.
When the subject of their last mission together arose, Falyte’s mood darkened. The Sword was contracted by a Pit Fiend in the guise of an assurance company agent to track down, recover, or destroy an entropic weapon of war known as a Ship of Chaos in the Abyss. The Sword found the Ship in the skies of Pazunia, also known as the Plain of Infinite Portals. Sneaking on board they battled the ships demonic crew taking heavy casualties in the process. Falyte and the tiefling Blademaster Kevden Megdal were lost overboard as the Ship tore a rift in space passing through a portal to another layer of the Abyss. Only Falyte returned from that ordeal to tell the tale and no divination he cast had yet located Kevden. It was on the Abyss afflicted with Confusion that Falyte had run into another tielfing named Duklar. The Scout was the lone survivor of an Indep caravan that had been destroyed by the Ship of Chaos outside the walls of Broken Reach. He helped guide the Tymoran priest back to Sigil and fell in with the other members of the Sword. Thinking of his resourceful friend he wondered aloud, “Do you think they summoned Duklar?”
* * * * * * * * * *
[sblock=The set up] In this campaign I'm having my group resurrect their old 2nd ed Planescape band of fiendslayers and sending through Dungeon's Savage Tide Adventure Path as a classic Planescape style campaign. Starting at 10th level I'll obviously have to scale some parts of it as I want to begin with Here There Be Monsters, the 4th chapter of the path (normally for 7th level characters). Adapting it to the planes will be even more interesting then I thought!
The first three adventures (HTBM, ToD, and CoBI) will all take place on the Beastlands, in and around the Forbidden Plateau (substituting for the Isle of Dread), TLD will take place in Pandemonium's 3rd and 4th layers. I'm not sure exactly how to fit in SoS yet, but by the time we get there (probably march) I'll have it done.
The Players...
- Arros Firebrand - m Human Clr 5/Demonwrecker 5 of St. Cutbert, (Harmonium) LN
- Deek - m Goliath - Bbn 7/Ftr 2 (Ragers sect) CG
- Duklar - m Tielfing Scout 10, (Free League) CN
- Falyte Gainsborough - m Human Clr 10 of Tymora, (Society of Sensation) CG
- Sir Lucien Bradley - m Aasimar Pal 10, (Believers of the Source) LG
- Mephistopheles "Horny" Blutkrieger - m Minotaur Ftr 2, CG
- Yark - m Half-orc Bbn 10, (Ragers sect) CN
The set-up...
Lavinia is the daughter of Factol Darius of the Sign of One (a planar Faction that maintains a presence on the Beastlands). Factol Darius, a potent seer, dreams of an upcoming demonic assault on the colony of Farshore (a Faction holding on the Beastlands) and sees the PC's there stopping it. She asks the PC's to protect her daughter and the colony which studies the Forbidden Plateau hoping to learn more about the "dead" pantheon whose realm lies there.
Vanthus becomes the leader of a demonic led force of tielfing Vile Hunters (a planar sect), Tanar'ri, and Doomsguard (another of Sigil's Factions). Vanthus' backstory changes to that of the scion of the tanar'ri general Za'rafass who was killed in a raid on the Concordant Domains of the Outlands (in which Darius' divinations played an instrumental role). Vanthus leads a campaign to wound Factol Darius' political base by destroying the colony and her heart by kidnapping her daughter.[/sblock]
Here is the tale of the adventuring brotherhood known in the City of Doors as the Sword.
Session #1 - A Call to the Hall...
Darius sat upright, her heart racing. "Oh, what dark Imaginings," she breathed. The Factol of the Sign of One had been troubled by ominous portents for many nights. A powerful seer and diviner her dreams often came to pass, by which she came to lead one of the City of Doors mighty Factions. She pulled her robes closely around her and donned her wimple before summoning her Factor. A well dressed courtier entered the bed chambers of the Factol and bowed before her. Darius focused her thoughts and spoke, "Seek out the members of the Sword. Summon them to the Speakers Podium. Bid them make all haste, for my Dreams do call to them."
* * * * * * * * * *
The Courier jogged lightly through the smog choked alleys of the Foundry district, her hand on her dirk and eyes alert for danger. The Lower Ward of Sigil was no place to let your guard down! Knights of the Post and worse would bob a clueless berk in a blink of an eye. Turning a corner the messenger approached the vast complex that was the Great Foundry, Faction Headquarters of the Believers of the Source. Even here at its gates she could feel the heat of the foundries and forges, the hammering of metal ringing in her ears. The godsmen manning the posts challenged her approach. Holding up a sealed scroll case she brushed the hood away from her face. A trio of blue concentric rings tattooed on her brow attested to her standing in the Courier's guild. "I'm looking for Sir Lucien Bradley, the Source Knight," she piped.
The Believers directed her to small forge near the faction flophouses in the rear of the complex. Pounding away at a gleaming mithril breastplate stood a monstrous gray-skinned humanoid in naught but trousers. He looked up at the slight girl before him and called back into the shack. "Lucien, someone's here for ya." The Courier expecting a paladin wasn't surprised when the sandy haired Aasimar stepped out the door. What did astonish her though were the gold tinged wings sprouting from his back, a sure sign he was blessed by the powers of Good. The Aasimar fished out a few silver coins from his russet purse, handing them to the girl as she delivered her missive. "Thank you miss." His warm smile faded as he read the parchment within the scroll case. The paladin turned to the goliath, "Grab your Maul Deek. It seems we are needed."
* * * * * * * * * *
A light rain was falling and tiny trickles of water dripped on the table. Duklar leaned back in the comfortably carved chair his face shadowed by his deep hood. He gripped a warm polished mug full of foaming Golden Hills Bitter Ale, quite arguably the finest of the selection to be found at the Wandering Treant Inn. Across the table his recently acquired partner dug into a small roast hen and chased a mountain of buttered potatoes as they tumbled off his plate. As the lumbering Treant walked across Dothion, the first layer of Bytopia, the Inn built in it's massive branches swayed along with it's strides. "How's the vittles, hun?" asked the dimpled gnome as she set a trencher of warm dark bread and cheese down. The Half-orc looked up at her briefly and grabbed a hunk of bread but said nothing. "Well that's rude!" she spat. The lounging scout kicked his well worn boots on the table and took a long drink from his mug. "Don't mind Yark there. He don't speak a lick, 'specially while he's eating." The Gnome peered across the table at the wiry man. He wore well worn hunting leathers all a neutral shade of gray, green, or brown. She couldn’t tell which. He sat with his face hidden in the folds of his deep hood but she saw his eyes glowing dimly in the gloom. She reflexively shivered and the thin tiefling slid his smokey goggles back onto his face. Duklar took up his mug again and turned to regard his chum. “Well Yarky, this here is the closest thing to civilized livin’ that I want to take part in. Hard to feel confined when you live in a tree!”
The Half-orc blissfully continued eating unaware of the scouts ramblings. That is until a tiny bird streaked through the tree branches and raindrops appearing in front of the both of them. The jittery little thing hopped from one foot to the other twittering speedily. Yark crinkled his brow at the curious little avian and swiped his meaty paw at it. It zipped into the branches above his head before his hand was even close and chirped in an angry staccato. “Well who’d be sending an Astral Streaker to find me?” asked the Scout. He whistled a little at the flustered bird which promptly flittered onto his waiting hand. A small blue steel ring circled the birds leg trailing a fine adamantine chain that attached to a capped tube. Duklar unscrewed the tube and found a brief note asking him to return to Sigil and the Hall of Speakers to meet his companions of the Sword. The tiefling hated everything about that city. One of Sigil’s many names was the Cage and to Duklar that’s exactly what it felt like. Still the mention of his companions piqued his curiosity. He ordered another ale and gulped it down wiping the nutty foam from his lips. Nudging the half-orc he signaled they were leaving. Yark walked his fingers along the table and shrugged, his simple way of asking where they were going. Duklar pulled a gold band off his slim finger, made a rude gesture with the digit and held the ring above it. Yark nodded in complete understanding.
* * * * * * * * * *
The streets of Thrassos hummed with excitement as colorful circus tents sprung to life seemingly overnight just outside of town. The philosophers and merchants of the town took time out of their days to explore the Menagerie. Exotic animals from around the planes were displayed in cages that seemed made of ice, fire, and smoke. Tiny kobold mummers in elaborate garb tumbled and pantomimed for the crowd. These were the “Little Green Men,” stars of the Managerie and the brainchild of Krylara it’s mistress. A native of Thrassos herself the snake-blooded woman took center stage among the troupe of reptilian clowns. With her lithe sinuous body she danced and performed acts of extreme contortion as her Little Green Men capered and frolicked about. A dark skinned tiefling in voluminous robes and a grotesque mask dazzled the crowd with pyrotechnics and displays of minor illusions while singing in a deep baritone.
Walking among the periphery of the crowd, a lank Minotaur in blue leathers kept his eyes open for troublemakers or any overly enthusiastic patrons… something quite common in any Arborean town! For all the merriment being made by the performers it was obvious the hulking ram horned humanoid was in a deep melancholy. Billed as Mephistopheles the Mighty, the Minotaur sometimes performed as a strongman. Lately however he was content to bash a few heads and herd the drunks out after the performances were over. Known to most as Horny, the Minotaur had been growing more and more restless as the circus grew closer to Thrassos. As the kobold mimes danced among the crowd they passed out leaflets and handbills touting the grand finale of the Managerie’s run in the Olympian town. The Mistress of the circus would be wedding her inamorato, the Pyromancer Xerez in a grand ceremonial performance! The entire town was abuzz and it was sure to be the high point of the lazy summer.
For Horny it was a crushing blow for he had fallen in love with the pureblood Yuan-ti. He had followed the Managerie from Sigil after seeing Krylara perform at the Civic Festhall. He fell in with the troupe near the Gatetown of Ecstasy when it ran afoul of a Brood of Tso slavers intent on making the circus their own. Horny had stormed the deck of the Tso’s flying ship, known as an Aracheon, single handedly. His sweeping greatsword made short work of the thralls sent against him by the cowardly Tso masters. The Tso gathered together intent on stopping the murderous force on board their vessel. The eel-faced monsters began weaving their cooperative sorceries, their spider like bodies moving intricately. So focused on the Minotaur they forgot Krylara, whose slipped her bonds thanks to her contortionists skill. She danced in among the spell casters pouncing on the largest slaver sinking her delicate fangs into its slimy neck. The Tso gasped as the poison raced through his veins but it managed to answer the woman’s attack, biting her in turn. Krylara flopped onto the deck paralyzed but successful in disrupting their spell. Horny ripped through the last of the Tso’s defenders and bounded up to the quarterdeck. The five remaining spiders lashed out at the Minotaur with their magic staves scorching and shocking him, but they were cut down like so much Arborean wheat. Horny scooped up Krylara’s prone form and vaulted over the side of the ship landing on the big top below. From that day on Horny remained with the Managerie as its protector. In time the Minotaur learned that while Krylara was fond of him she preferred the company of planetouched men. The yuan-ti rotated through a coterie of tieflings as they traveled the Great Road among the Upper Planes. None lasted over-long until Xerez appeared in a puff of smoke and brimstone.
When the frost-rimed mephit arrived with a summons to the Cage, Horny wasted little time with goodbyes. The Minotaur grabbed his gear which had been nearly packed for days and walked to Thrassos center. A rotunda of white marble pillars marked the Gate to the Outlands burg of Sylvania. Horny stepped into the circle of pillars waiting for the Gate to activate. An aged woman in white robes trimmed in blue sat nearby. “You need the approval of the town elders to pass the Gate warrior,” she stated. Horny sighed in annoyance and his shoulders slumped, “I suppose they’re all down at the circus. Just my rotten luck.” Before he could turn away the matron before him stood from the bench and asked, “Why do you go? Are you not with the circus?” The Minotaur looked up at the woman replying, “No longer. My companions are in need of my aid so I go.” The robed woman looked upon the Minotaur for a moment noticing when he mentioned his companions his posture straightened and his eyes brightened. “Do not worry yourself with the town elders, Champion. I can open the Gate. I merely needed to judge your reason for leaving.” The marble pillars began to glow with a white light blinding Horny for a moment. As the view of the small town faded he almost imagined the old woman’s eyes flash with light before he planeshifted.
* * * * * * * * * *
Constable Arros Firebrand walked briskly through the City Barracks. It was early in the morning and still dark in the Lady’s Ward. He mentally ticked off the number of paces it took to reach end of the corridors he walked, memorized from long hours of guard duty as a Namer in the Harmonium. Arros had received orders to report to the office of Factor Tonat Shar, his commanding officer immediately upon waking. Reached the office he rapped on the door twice and waited. After a few moments he heard a stiff, “Enter.” Stepping through the door he approached the Factors desk snapping to attention two feet before it. Tonat Shar looked up at him. “Firebrand I don’t know exactly what you did to garner the attention of the Factol of the Sign of One but rest assured I will be keeping tabs on you.” The stern faced commandant slid a dossier across his desk to the Constable. Arros lifted the portfolio and scanned its contents briefly. “You are dismissed.” Arros saluted and walked out.
Standing in the hallway outside the Factors office Arros studied the file in his hands noting the summons from the Hall of Speakers, an indefinite leave of duty writ, and a requisition for supplies and stipend. “I’d love to know as well,” he thought. It would take the better part of the day to walk the distance from the Barracks to the Hall of Speakers so he needed to get a move on. He stopped to make his morning devotions to St. Cuthbert in the Barracks communal shrine before heading to the provisioners for collect his final stipend and supplies. Obviously his superiors thought he was going to be gone for an extended time and issued him some basic adventuring gear; backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, two sunrods, ten days worth of field rations, 50 feet of hempen rope, a waterskin, and a spare holy symbol. “Superb,” the constable thought. “They’re sending me Out-of-Town at the very least. Out-of-touch is more likely though.” He gathered up his gear and joined up with a column of fellow guardsmen bound for the Clerk’s Ward.
* * * * * * * * * *
Falyte enjoyed the view from his suite on the upper floors of the Hall of Speakers. Arriving the night before, he had been treated as well as any visiting dignitary or ambassador, put up in a lavish apartment and given every courtesy. He had been curious as to why the Signers had contacted him via sending spell summoning him to their Faction headquarters. Managing one of his own Faction’s gaming halls was distracting for a time but he had long grown bored of the hospitality industry. So when a sonorous voice popped into his head he gladly walked the few blocks from the Civic Festhall to see what the Factol of the Sign of One needed. The balacony afforded him quite a vantage point and it wasn’t long before he saw a winged figure cutting through the sky towards him. He waved happily, greeting his friend who landed nimbly. “Lucien, how are you?” “I am well Falyte, thank you. How do you fare?” The boisterous cleric of Tymora was just starting into his tales of running a gambling hall when he jumped back from the rail with a shriek. A wide grinning face stared at him through the bars of the railing. “By all that is lucky, Deek you scared the hell out of me!” The big goliath laughed as he finished clambering up onto the balcony. “Sorry, but not all of us can fly. Besides prefer climbing to walking up stairs. It gets the blood pumping!” Falyte leaned over to look at Deek’s ascent, marveling at the ease in which the big man scaled the smooth plaster of the Hall of Speakers. “Just count yourself lucky,” the priest winked. “They don’t let Razorvine grow all over the buildings in the Clerk’s Ward. We have an image to think about here!”
It was almost full dark by the time Arros was shown to the apartment and caught up with his companions. They exchanged pleasantries and found each of them had been growing discontent with life in the past months since they had returned from the Abyss. Lucien had some distraction in his budding relationship with Umbra, the alu-fiend maiden whom the group had helped restore a forgotten Faction nearly two years back. She was the daughter of a fallen Harmonium Factor named Durkayle and a Succubus. Umbra was believed to be the One True Being prophesied by Zactar, a priest and orator whose self-named faction had thrived before Sigil’s Great Upheaval nearly 650 years ago. Arros grew quiet as they recounted the rescue of the Alu-fiend from the Hardhead Prefect’s fortress. That raid led to the capture of Lucien, Deek, and Falyte’s former companion. The drow beguiler, Draaven Nightblade, had accompanied the Sword in the raid of Durkayles tower and was locked away in a secret Prison on the plane of Carceri by Durkayle. His rescue was only accomplished with the help of Arros who had chafed under the corrupt Factors command and assisted the Sword in bringing down a ring of evil Hardheads and Mercykillers who sold prisoners to the Yugoloths as slaves or worse.
When the subject of their last mission together arose, Falyte’s mood darkened. The Sword was contracted by a Pit Fiend in the guise of an assurance company agent to track down, recover, or destroy an entropic weapon of war known as a Ship of Chaos in the Abyss. The Sword found the Ship in the skies of Pazunia, also known as the Plain of Infinite Portals. Sneaking on board they battled the ships demonic crew taking heavy casualties in the process. Falyte and the tiefling Blademaster Kevden Megdal were lost overboard as the Ship tore a rift in space passing through a portal to another layer of the Abyss. Only Falyte returned from that ordeal to tell the tale and no divination he cast had yet located Kevden. It was on the Abyss afflicted with Confusion that Falyte had run into another tielfing named Duklar. The Scout was the lone survivor of an Indep caravan that had been destroyed by the Ship of Chaos outside the walls of Broken Reach. He helped guide the Tymoran priest back to Sigil and fell in with the other members of the Sword. Thinking of his resourceful friend he wondered aloud, “Do you think they summoned Duklar?”
* * * * * * * * * *
Last edited:
