[Sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

[Walter]

I had this posted under Typhus' Journal, but noticed some formatting problems. That, and this is pretty long on it's own, so I decided to move it to it's own topic. Comments welcome.

 

The Ranger’s Tale

 

I am from a world and time that is nearly unimaginable from the perspective of here-and-now, even by the so-called enlightened residents of this ‘City of Doors.’ Even so, there are some concepts that are held in common; Archetypes, as it were. I find that if I describe myself as an archer, most berks can grasp a portion of my profession quite handily. So, by all means, think of me as an archer mon-keigh.

 

I am a Ranger, of the race of Eldar, and my Craftworld is known as Iyanden. Our Warlocks and Bonesingers are the most skilled in the galaxy. They have to be; most of our population was destroyed by the Great Devourer. Therefore, most of our defenders must be called back from the dead to continue fighting as wraithbone constructs; the powerful Wraithguard, and the awesome Wraithlords.

 

As for me, I am here in the City of Doors; lost to my people, with no way home. Apparently, my own Door does not swing both ways.

I was sent through the Webway with my brethren, to fight the mon-keigh, the followers of Horus, on a world the humans call Medusa V. The battle was great, and our presence was felt, though as always we remained unseen. After Horus’ scions were defeated, my brothers and I made our way back to the Webway portal, but were caught on the way by a warp-storm. As my companions died, changed in horrid ways by the winds of chaos, I staggered through the portal to home.

 

But home was not waiting where I left it. I was changed in some way, or the warp-storm corrupted the portal before destroying it; I have no real explanation for what happened. Instead of the arching dome of starlight I expected to see, I found myself standing on the inner rim of a ring of city. While superficially like my Craftworld in shape and size, where I expected grass and the clean sound of wind chimes, I found instead crude cobblestones and a fetid stench upon the breeze.

 

No matter, I need not describe the City to you; most likely you were born to its primitive charms. Suffice it to say that the language was not difficult to learn, and some crystal baubles on my person were accepted as ‘jink.’ My services were desired, if not strictly needed, by certain elements of society here in Sigil. I am a tracker without peer, an assassin without parallel, a one-of-a-kind mercenary, where all around me are the mon-keigh. If you have sufficient jink, I might consent to work for you; if not, leave me in peace. There are too many of you to kill for free.

 

Now I find that the spirit stones used to power my equipment are running low of energy, again. Whatever methods the local ‘wizard’ I contracted to recharge them, one Ogdrhu Jahad, uses, they are less efficient than those of my home. And now this mon-keigh has gone missing, and my tracking skills are useless. I know that he used to work with a cutter called Typhus, who frequents the Blackbird Tavern; my obvious next step is to go there and meet with this creature.

[Walter]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

First real installment. Again, comments welcome.

 

The Ranger's Tale (cont.)

 

The Blackbird Tavern looked like nothing much from the outside; a two-story stone structure, with a door like nothing so much as that of a barn and somewhat fewer gargoyles and gothic points than average. I wondered what sort of clientele might require such a door, and then thought of some of the creatures I had seen wandering Sigil’s streets. The Blackbird obviously catered to some of the larger specimens.

 

I spoke briefly with the bartender, who pointed at a central table with his chin. The occupant I was seeking was readily apparent.

 

Typhus is a very small human in a very large suit of green plate armor, which from the smell he apparently never removes. The armor swirls with some sort of moving black pattern in a truly disturbing fashion. For that reason, and from the appearance of his skin, I believe that he has been strongly touched by the corruption of Chaos; the sores and pustules on his face and scalp resemble nothing so much as a plague I am familiar with from home. He uses a large scythe as a crutch, breathes with a constant wheeze, and speaks in a raspy whisper. I almost felt sorry for the man, until his naturally sunny disposition broke through.

 

His companions, two humans and something called an ogre, would be unremarkable here. The humans seemed nothing special; they sported obviously new clothing and weapons. The ogre was…large. Though wedged against a wall, he seemed to fill the room. I estimated his height as nearly 4 meters, and his mass at better than 400 kilos. Where Typhus had an elaborate beer stein before him, and the humans simple mugs, the ogre had an eight-liter bucket clutched in one hand. There was a truly enormous axe leaning against the wall to his right.

 

 

As I sat down at his group’s table, Typhus grumped, "who are you, and what do you want?" As I soon discovered, this was Typhus at his most civil.

 

Since I have repudiated my old name, and have yet to choose a new one, I stated the fact. "I have no name yet. You know the wizard Ogdrhu Jahad, yes?"

 

"I know him," was the reply.

 

"He works for you, yes?" I continued the stunning reparte. His companions looked on with slight smiles, enjoying my discomfort. All except for the ogre, who was busy studying the inside of his beer-bucket.

 

"He has worked for me in the past," Typhus admitted. This was perhaps the least talkative human I had ever encountered. Usually I cannot get them to shut up without shooting them.

 

I had no choice but to continue my inquiry. "Do you know where he is now?" I asked.

 

"No," came the inevitable reply. I was beginning to see what drove Ogdrhu to addiction.

 

Like a slow moving avalanche, I went on with the interrogation, "When did you last see him alive?" At this, I noticed a few concerned glances around the table. Might he really be dead? Had he perhaps committed suicide to escape his monosyllabic employer? Should they take the wise course and do the same?

 

"Two days ago," said Typhus, "at this table when I paid him for the last job. Why are you looking for him?"

 

Two consecutive sentences! I nearly wept for joy. "I need him to recharge these," I said, as I scattered a few small spirit stones on the table. I realized my error from the quickly muffled gasps and raised eyebrows around the table. While little more than baubles where I come from, they were apparently quite valuable here. The money changer I’d been dealing with would be hearing from me soon. He would enjoy our conversation even less than I was enjoying this one.

 

As I scooped the gems back into a pouch, Typhus said, "Well, good luck finding him," and mentally dismissed me. Rather than do the rational thing and walk away, I elected to continue the conversation.

 

"If he cannot be found," I continued, "I will need to find someone else to do the work. For that, I will need money. I understand that you hire mercenaries." Looking around the table, I could see that I was right. These humans could be little more than hired thugs.

 

"I hire people when I need a job done," Typhus admitted.

 

"These men work for you?" I asked, starting the dance again. I saw the ogre roll his eyes. Perhaps he was smarter than he looked; though that wouldn’t be difficult.

 

"They have worked for me in the past," Typhus growled. If I had a working pistol, I would have shot him in the mouth right then.

 

Tightlipped, I asked, "and their terms?" One. Word. At. A. Time.

 

"They show up here. If there is a job to do, they do it. When the job is finished, they get paid," he spat. Good, it seemed he was enjoying this as little as I was.

 

Recent evidence to the contrary, I am not a fool. I asked, "How much do they get paid?"

 

"A percentage," he grunted.

 

Back to this again. "Of what?"

 

The men around the table were moving their heads as though watching a tennis match. "Of the job," growled Typhus. My lack of a firearm saved his life again.

 

"How much of a percentage?" Damn this mon-keigh! No torture would be enough for him!

 

His eyes scanned the table as he counted on his fingers. "Four men, twenty-five percent. Of the job. Each," he said. He had included me in his calculations, and seemed to be saying that he had no monetary gain from these jobs of his. I didn’t believe that for a moment.

 

Foolishly, I asked for clarification. "Twenty-five percent of the gross?"

 

"Twenty-five percent of the job. Each. Equal shares." The others were nodding, but how would they know how much he was paid?

 

"And how do I get hired for one of your ‘jobs’?" I asked.

 

"Show up here. If there is a job, come along. If you live, you get paid," he answered. Again, the nods around the table. They looked like a rank of bobble-head dolls.

 

I added a caveat. "I will work with you on the understanding that as my worth becomes apparent, we will revisit this deal." He glared at me, and nodded. The others just looked bewildered; except for the ogre, who was again regarding at the bottom of his beer-bucket.

[Walter]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Second installment. Comment, or die.

 

The Ranger's Tale (cont.)

 

Typhus then went off to conduct some business with a shadowy figure in the corner, while I became more familiar with my new companions. The ogre’s name was Marv, and he seemed to be the individual in mind when the term "slope foreheaded killer" was coined. He turned out to be little if any smarter than he looked. The humans were Christoph and Steelweaver. Steelweaver was a quiet young man sporting two longswords, while Christoph’s talent appeared to be talking, now that his boss had departed.

 

He was much more typical of other humans I had experience with. He spent a few moments being discomfited when the person Typhus was conversing with spoke up. Christoph went very pale, and then stalked across the room and yanked the hood from the stranger’s head to reveal—another non-descript young human. It never ceases to amaze me how much the mon-keigh look alike. Chastened, Christoph returned to slump in his chair.

 

"Paranoid much?" I asked.

 

He mumbled into his beer, "doesn’t mean they ain’t out to get me. Somebody who talks like that fella killed my folks."

 

He then looked at Marv, with a one-word inquiry, "’nari?" To which Marv grunted in what I took to be the affirmative.

 

Turning back to me, Christoph asked, "You got dealings with Tanari’I where you come from?" He meant demons, a class of beings I was familiar with.

 

"Only to kill them," I responded.

 

Christoph smiled, and again looked to Marv, "Hey, I’m startin’ like this guy!" Again Marv grunted in what seemed to be the affirmative. I was beginning to wonder if he was capable of speech.

 

Turning to me once again, Christoph asked, "Are you an elf? You look kinda like the elfs where I come from, only bigger."

 

I grimaced. "No. You look like mon-keigh where I come from."

 

He knew from my tone that the term was an insult, but he smiled anyway, "Hey, that’s a good joke. Monkey, mon-keigh." Looking at Marv, "I’m really startin’ to like this guy!"

 

Joy, I had just made a human friend. Apparently the ogre came as part of the deal. Just as well; Marv looked to be very hard to kill. It would not do to be on his bad side, if I had to work closely with these people.

 

***********************************************************************

 

The demon-voiced little human turned out to be named Darkchant the Fiend; whether he was wishing to recruit Typhus for some scheme or vice versa was not clear to me. At any rate, they both left the tavern shortly after Christoph’s lapse. I departed shortly after, to renew my search for Ogdrhu.

 

As before, I was unable to find trace of the wizard; Necromancer, Christoph had called him. When Sigil’s grey light was just becoming bright enough to see by without artificial enhancement, I placed myself outside Typhus’ residence. As I settled myself to await his emergence, a young human stepped up and rapped on Typhus’ door. The door was snatched open, and Typhus himself growled, "What is it?"

 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t make out the rest of the conversation, but whatever it was about seemed to displease Typhus mightily, though not to the point of damaging his visitor, obviously a messenger of some sort. I stifled a smile, as whatever displeased Typhus was pleasing to me in direct proportion. As the visitor left, I revealed my presence, and stepped to the door; Typhus just glared at me, and shut it in my face.

 

The arrogance of this human was astounding. I was beginning to wonder why he was still breathing; either he was much more powerful than he seemed, or he had simply not gotten around to offending the proper individuals. As I rapped upon the door, I decided the latter was much more likely.

 

The door was immediately snatched open, as Typhus, ever the conversationalist, again growled, "What is it?"

 

"I thought you should know that Ogdrhu Jahad has not visited his home," I said.

 

"I wasn’t aware he had one," was Typhus less than enlightening response.

 

"I still need to find him," I began. Typhus cut me off.

 

"Then our interests coincide for now," he snapped, and again closed the door in my face.

 

As I made my way to my own flop, a mediocre inn some distance away, I had time to hope that I would be near enough to see Typhus’ face when his rudeness finally bore its inevitable fruit. I then hoped that as his employee, I was far enough away to avoid the splatter.

 

That afternoon found me back at the Blackbird with the same crowd; Marv in his (huge) cups, Blackchant hiding in his shadowy corner, when His Rudeness arrived. He quickly announced that his home had been ransacked by none other than Ogdrhu.

 

I almost shouted, "when?"

 

Typhus counted on his fingers before responding, "sometime yesterday evening."

 

His last word was said to my back as I hastened out the door. I heard Marv’s ponderous bulk following, but he must have had business elsewhere, as he took a different route from the tavern.

 

The last night had been dry for once, so I knew that I had a slim chance of catching Ogdrhu’s trail. After all, my literature says that I’m a tracker without peer; here I had a chance to prove it to myself. I found Ogdrhu’s spoor outside Typhus’ back door, and I followed it on a meandering course all the way across the Hive, to the massive square surrounding the Mortuary. There were too many people there who would remark on my behavior, so I could follow no further. I settled in to wait.

 

No more than an hour or so later, I noticed Christoph making his way directly to the Mortuary’s main entrance. He was inside no more than a few minutes, but enough to make me wonder at his purpose. When he emerged, I began to follow him; catching him easily in a few blocks.

 

"Oh, hey Silent," he said when he noticed me. "Good thing I ran into you, there’s a big meet up later over at the Fortune’s Wheel. I can take you there after I get some grub."

 

I accompanied Christoph to dinner at some pub whose name I failed to note. During the meal, he kept up a constant stream of chatter, and I managed to glean a few tidbits of information. First, Christoph was employed most days as a clerk in the Mortuary, and he and Ogdrhu had delivered some bodies there after an altercation a few nights past, for which service they had been well paid. He thought that Ogdrhu might have gone back looking to make some money. Second, the altercation had been between Typhus’ boys, and some were-rats who were ambushing two couriers working for Shemeska, a notorious information broker, based at Fortune’s Wheel. Third, Typhus’ new job was to be something for this Shemeska, we were to get details at the Wheel this evening.

 

I hadn’t been in Sigil very long, but even I had heard of Shemeska; and from what I knew, she was no one to be trifled with. I managed to lead Christoph to the information that Typhus had had several meetings with her already, so it was nearly certain that he had managed to offend her in a soon to be terminal fashion. I was beginning to have a bad feeling about the situation.

 

After the meal, Christoph and I proceeded to the Fortune’s Wheel, where we arrived just shortly before Typhus and his new best buddy, Blackchant. I noted Marv across the main room gambling; and Steelweaver nearby, intent on counting some coin. He had apparently been winning at whatever game he was playing.

 

Typhus and Blackchant (the Fiend!) moved to a stairway at the back, and headed upstairs past several guards—they were obviously expected. I hoped that Blackchant was smart enough to know a setup when he heard one. About Typhus, I had no such illusions. I made a note to ask Christoph about Typhus and his armor; he had to be more than the cripple he seemed. I could not fathom that he had lived in Sigil as long as he supposedly had, without making someone powerful angry enough to rid the world of him.

[tgrandjean]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

*chuckles* Warhammer meets Dnd... Pray continue.

[MordeanGrey]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Warhammer meets Dnd...

 

... and all done in Hero!

[AlHazred]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

I love the Planescape setting. Has your GM done a lot of conversions of the material, or is he just converting what he has to as he goes along? I've converted a small amount of material myself, but only because the sheer bulk of material is daunting.

[Thia Halmades]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Cake, please.

[Bik Britelite]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Great story Darren.

 

I swear your character is there just to piss Typhus off. I will have mine up tomorrow I hope. Its mostly done, just need to do a very quick edit to some parts.

 

 

I love the Planescape setting. Has your GM done a lot of conversions of the material' date=' or is he just converting what he has to as he goes along? I've converted a small amount of material myself, but only because the sheer bulk of material is daunting.[/quote']

 

 

Mordean is the GM AlHazred, and he has a fair amount of stuff converted. Mostly its just NPCs and a few monsters. We have been doing Sigil games off and on for a while. Like most gaming groups we try everything at least once and go with it for a while then start something new.

[Walter]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Why, thanks Rick; I live to please.

 

I would have almost said the same about Typhus, but he's been around longer.

 

Since we've been playing Hero in Sigil for what, almost 10 years (I think I started playing Sandtiger in what, 97 or 98?), on and off, I imagine that Mordean has quite a bit of stuff converted. Though most of the major NPC's we seem to interact with are original to him.

 

We game again tonight, and I have writing goals in place for the campaign, so the next installment should be up late Thursday or early Friday. I'm also working on fleshing out the background.

 

Please feel free to comment, criticise constructively, etc. I'm making this a writing project, and welcome well considered input.

[MordeanGrey]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

I have multiple notebooks (at least three or four completely full) filled with hand-written pages of plots, characters, NPCs, and locations from the various incarnations of the SIGIL game.

 

The materials from previous games serve as background material for the current players. The core group of my players have been together now for around 10 years, and have helped develop a lot of the history in my games through the actions of their characters. Portions of Sigil have developed a familiar feel to them. They know where things are located, and remember details of locations from previous games.

 

I finally gave up trying to carry it all in a backpack and just got a big box to pile it in for now. (Of course I still carry the backpack full of rulebooks, and three miniature cases in addition to the box. ) I think I need a big rolling suitcase or toolbox.

[Undertaker]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

"I'll give Silent all my gold if he doesn't shoot me when I come out!"

The password to give the tall elf when exiting a building he's covering the exit of. hehe

 

This post is to prove that I do check in once in a while. Christoph

[Walter]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

We'll have to come up with a new password; with this party, I might accidentally shoot someone anyway...

 

And if you call me an elf again, that someone will be you.

 

Just sayin'

 

[MordeanGrey]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Wow! Undertaker appears.

 

Wait until you guys see Typhus' new abilities... He was talking about some yucky descriptions.

[Old Man]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

... and all done in Hero!

 

Gotta love it.

[Walter]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Sorry for the delay, some no-shows forced our game cancellation. Maybe this week...

[Walter]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Update. Sorry for the delay.

 

******************************************************

While waiting for the interview to finish, I decided that I liked the name Christoph had given me, but that it needed a bit of theatrics to back it up. As talkative as Christoph was, he might be able to act as my mouthpiece. He also seemed to be a bit of an information monger, and he had to be discomfited by his obvious replacement in that capacity by Darkchant. It seemed reasonable that he could work in that capacity for me, and in that way I could start to build a network within Typhus’ organization. It seemed to be inevitable that Typhus’ self-centeredness would cause a mutiny sooner or later (most likely sooner), and I wished to be in a position to take advantage.

 

With that in mind, I began to sound Christoph out by asking him about Typhus. The answer turned out to be "not much." Typhus had been in Sigil for a number of years, and was established as a maker of poisons; he catered to a rather exclusive group of customers. As he had a permanent residence (though it was on the edge of the Hive), he had to make an adequate living; more than adequate once his costs for hiring mercenaries (at no profit to himself, he claimed) were figured in. I was determined to know more about our erstwhile employer and his history.

 

While speaking with Christoph, the subject of my spirit stones came up. Across the room, Marv was looking confused as the dealers took more and more of his coin without returning any. Since it looked as though he might need some supplemental income, I asked Christoph to assist me in speaking with my money-changer. Marv could come along as an incentive to honesty on the merchant’s part.

 

Shortly after, Typhus and Darkchant returned from their conference with our new benefactor. Neither of them seemed distraught, and I began to wonder about Darkchant’s intelligence. Either I had seriously overestimated him, or Shemeska was not as upset with Typhus as I had thought. In either case, I would need to pump Darkchant for information about the upcoming job. As he limped heavily toward the door, Typhus growled that we would have tow days to prepare for the mission.

 

What mission? Did he honestly expect us to prepare for a total unknown? Where would we go, how long would we be traveling, what opposition might we face? None of the information was forthcoming. Hopefully Darkchant would know more; I only needed to catch him away from Typhus’ side.

 

Christoph, Marv and I had arranged to meet early the next day at the shop of the money-changer I had used in the past; who had shortchanged me on the value for my dead spirit stones. At first, the moneychanger claimed not to remember me or the stones, but a glance at Marv seemed to improve his memory. In the end, Christoph negotiated a significant markup on the gems, plus a refund for past transactions. I split the profits with him and Marv; both seemed pleased with the deal.

 

Christoph later told me that he had located someone who could recharge my gems; we would have to go to the Mortuary later in the evening to meet the person. After dealing with a minor functionary at the front desk, we were conducted to a small waiting room. After a short time, a man entered—none other than Ogdrhu Jahad! Christoph and I both pretended not to recognize him; considering the situation, familiarity could turn out to be detrimental to everyone’s health. Ogdrhu agreed on a price, took the gems I offered, and left us. In a few minutes he returned with fully charged gems. I was surprised, as in the past he had required hours (if not days) to return the charged gems to me.

 

As we left, Christoph mentioned that I could leave the gems at the front desk for recharge in the future; I was not convinced of the wisdom of that course of action. While I had no love for Ogdrhu Jahad, his situation intrigued me enough that I wished to keep some tabs on him.

 

Later, at the Blackbird, Typhus arrived and told us where and when to meet for the job. The Gate to our destination was the third grate past Depression Bridge over the Ditch. We were to meet there two hours before next peak (10 am tomorrow morning). Immediately after giving us the information, he and Darkchant went to one of the private rooms in the back of the Blackbird to confer. I was determined to wait them out.

 

An hour or so later, not long after anti-peak (midnight), the two emerged. Typhus was his usual grumpy self as he limped to the door. Darkchant looked uncharacteristically troubled. At last, evidence of intelligence in the group. He approached me after Typhus had made his exit, and immediately started in on the details of the job.

 

It seemed that the couriers Typhus and his henchmen had protected a few days before had been bringing Shemeska a book. The book was now in Typhus possession, and was to be used to resurrect a powerful mage, imprisoned on a prime world called Thantos. The spell to supposedly free this wizard was the only writing in the (rather large) book, all the other pages were blank. While Darkchant could read and pronounce the spell, he couldn’t understand it; which caused him to wonder if it might not contain a request to kill the messengers. As for me, I wondered if an unstable magician might not simply lash out at whoever released him, no message required. At any rate, Shemeska desired him to be free, and stood to profit from his freedom. Our own health and survival were inconsequential once that goal was accomplished. It was comforting on a certain level to see that another of my companions shared my low opinion of both our employers.

 

Darkchant felt, as I did, that we required more information about who we were releasing and why. Luckily, he had an idea as to whom we might approach for that data. Shemeska had rivals in the information business, one of whom was an ogre-mage named Estevan. Darkchant believed that he might be sympathetic to us.

 

Estevan lived in the Clerk’s Ward, apparently never leaving his office above a non-descript business. Darkchant mentioned something about Guvnor’s (a Faction) and The Consortium (a group of merchants opposed to Shemeska?). Though we had no idea of what the meager information we possessed might be worth, darkchant seemed to trust that Estevan would give us a fair price; either in information we needed, or in coin.

 

We met with Estevan in the business below his office; only a small table lamp lit the scene, and poorly. Darkchant was circumspect in his speech, and stingy with the information we had to offer, but I believe that Estevan came away with the idea that we might be willing to assist him against Shemeska in the future, at least as a conduit for further information on her clandestine activities. Unfortunately for us, Estevan claimed to have no information that we could use. He knew little of the mage we were to release (Amberon, his name turned out to be), and nothing of the world we were to retrieve him from.

 

Again, unfortunately for us, Estevan couldn’t give us his negative information right away, but required several hours to consult his sources. We were to meet him again, at about the same time that we were to meet Typhus and the others on the far side of Sigil. We sent a message to the Blackbird that we were to start our expedition two hours later than previously planned.

 

Everyone got our message…except Typhus. When we arrived at the Blackbird (after our second fruitless meeting with Estevan), he was nowhere to be seen. We all proceeded to the Gate, and again no Typhus. Fortunately, we had received instruction on operation of this Gate, the Key being a bit of mineral called moonstone, and we all went through.

 

We appeared on the world of Thantos in a mountain pass, overlooking a village some five miles distant. I was easily able to find Typhus’ trail, and we followed after him. Being a cripple, and having only a two hour head start, we were able to overtake him handily. He had detoured around the village, and we shortly found ourselves on a road to another mountain pass, where our destination lay.

 

To the left of the pass, about 200 meters upslope, was a cave entrance. Typhus said that our quarry was entombed within. Being well within range of my rifle, I stated my intention to cover the party on their way to the entrance from here. Several gave me odd looks as they headed uphill, and I heard Typhus mumbling about cutting my percentage. With my enhanced vision, I could see that the cave was only a few meters deep, and I fully expected them to return and seek the tomb elsewhere.

 

Once within the cave, Typhus produced something from within his armor, and held it up to the back wall of the cave. There was a flash of green light, and the wall vanished to reveal a staircase leading up. Damn, I had to climb the hill after all. Beyond the short staircase, there was another chamber, apparently another dead end. Steelweaver took a few minutes to examine the chamber, and then all proceeded to the far wall, where Typhus again raised his item. Another green glow, and another short staircase up.

 

There seeming to be no threats, I determined to move in closer, and headed up the rocky slope. When I arrived at the cave, I could no longer see my companions, and as I moved into the mausoleum, I found out why. After the second staircase, there was a short transverse hallway, with some sort of glowing icons in the walls at each end. Across the passage was a stairway leading down.

 

The room beyond was lit with an unsettling greenish glow (the mages who imprisoned Amberon in this place were apparently enamored with this unhealthy shade), and my companions were within. The glow originated in several alcoves along the walls of the chamber, with what seemed to be candleflames. The chamber ended with a heavy portcullis, and another icon on the wall beyond. I activated my cloak, and took a prone position at the top of the stairs to cover as much of the room as I could. Darkchant was just across the hall from me, on the opposite side of the stairs. He gave me the impression that he was the coward Typhus thought that I was.

 

The angle of the stairs and the slope of the roof gave me a view of most of the room; Typhus stood in the center as Marv, Christoph, and Steelweaver set themselves to bend the bars of the portcullis with their bare hands.

 

Whatever insignificant help they gave to Marv, it was just enough to set off the trap in the room. As the three companions heaved, and miraculously bent the bars with a shriek of metal, the ‘candle flames’ illuminating the room brightened, and moved out of the alcoves. Four of them moved toward the team at the gate, while two engaged Typhus.

 

As Typhus slashed at one of the lights with his scythe, I could hear electrical discharges and screams from the others. The range was close, too close for my comfort; but I snugged my rifle to my shoulder, and timed my shots.

Luckily, the laser blasts from my weapon seemed to affect the globes, and between us, Typhus and I managed to destroy the first two without much trouble. From the sounds of battle at the other end of the room, I guessed that the others were not so lucky.

 

I moved to the base of the stairway to get a clear shot at the remaining globes; three of the four remained. Steeweaver seemed grievously wounded, but none of the three were unscathed. I went to work on the one menacing Steelweaver, while Typhus shouted some gibberish, and suddenly insects began spewing from every orifice in his armor. A cloud of flies two meters deep surrounded him as he waded into the fray on Christoph’s side.

Darkchant remained on the stairway behind me. Moments later, I fired the shot that dispatched the last of the globes, and we regrouped to assess our damage.

 

As I feared, Steelweaver was terribly burned. Christoph and Marv were not much better, but they would wait for the time being. Digging into my pack, I retrieved my medkit. I ran the diagnostic wand over Steelweaver’s body, and consulted the readout. Steeweaver’s wounds went very deep into his muscles and bones; he must have been in contact with the bars when the globes attacked. I was only able to give him some painkillers to keep him going. Christoph was luckier, in that his wounds were mostly superficial, and the salve the kit directed me to use healed his burns in short order. For some reason, Marv refused treatment entirely.

[Bik Britelite]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Awesome!

 

Not much mention of Typhus' hand to hand prowess though? Wonder why.

 

Am looking forward to reading the rest of the adventure and last nights snippet. Now if I can just find the time to finish writing what really happened, . . . I mean, what I saw happen.

[Walter]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Well, I didn't mention anyone else's HTH prowess either (or lack thereof). Too busy putting shots downrange, sorry.

[Walter]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Another update. Can somebody besides Rick comment please? I'm starving for lack of input, here.

 

=======================================================

How did I forget about the arms?

 

A day after Typhus' last meeting with Shemeska, Marv was complaining of a headache. Knowing the pain threshold that the beast likley had, it must have been impressive. The next day, Marv had a new set of arms. Fully formed, of a size with the rest of his monstrous self. He had even contracted with his local armorer to modify his pieced-together mail. Perhaps the extra arms had given the necessary leverage to warp the portcullis we now faced.

 

Portcullis is the wrong word. Upon inspection, the bars which blocked our way were set in the stone on all sides, forming a woven grate in our way. Once the globes were dispatched, Marv and Christoph again bent their backs to the task of opening a path forward.

 

Again, I was too close to the action for my own comfort or safety, but I could see clearly that Typhus produced an amulet, and placed it against a glowing spot on the wall beyond the grate. With a subdued flash, the wall vanished and the way forward was clear.

 

Beyond was a cavernous chamber, nearly 100 meters across, and again lit by the same bilious green glow. This time, the glow came from a large half-sphere depending from the ceiling, and a matching smaller half-sphere atop what appeared to be a sarcophagus in the room's center.

 

I could hear my comrades' conversation now, and it seemed that there was a large pattern inlaid in the floor, designating a maze to be negotiated to reach the center. A brief period of experimentation showed that the maze would come alive with floor-to-ceiling walls if anything material crossed it's boundaries. Christoph was ordered in; and quickly negotiated the maze without incident. Darkchant was the only one capable of reading the spell of release from the book Shemeska had lent Typhus, and it was unclear how close he needed to be for the spell to be effective. He started in as well, carrying the book.

 

As Darkchant began to walk the pattern, the upper globe began to swirl with darkness, and I discerned a pattern of stars within. Simultaneously, a chill began to seep into the room. Darkchant began to walk faster, and opened the book. As he began to intone the nonsense sounds of the spell in his demonic voice, the swirling blackness in the globe seemed to congeal, and dark pseudopods began to descend into the room.

 

Tentacle like, the tendrils of blackness quested blindly about the upper part of the room. From my vantage 40 meters away, I could feel the chill of the Void spreading from them. Darkchant continued his steady progress toward the center, still intoning the spell, and I drew a bead on the largest of the tentacles.

 

As I pressed the firing stud, Marv began to negotiate the maze for some reason. My shot passed through the insubstantial tendril and burned a hole in the far wall of the chamber, as Marv brought his ponderous bulk to a run. Like a juggernaut, he made his way through the maze with an eerie sort of grace, brushing past Darkchant in his rush to the center. Before he arrived however, the thing which was the source of the tendrils and the cold fully manifested in the room. Like a giant octupus of void, the thing hovered in the air, it's tentacles no longer aimlessly writhing.

 

The entity opened a single baleful red eye, and began to attack those in the room. I could only imagine the pain and horror of being struck by such a creature; it's malice was almost palpable as it tried to entangle one after another of those in the room. Darkchant managed to dodge his way clear, but Christoph and Marv were not so lucky, and began to be pulled upward toward whatever maw the mass of the creature concealed.

 

On a hunch, I took aim at the single dinner-plate sized eye that I could see, and my shot took it dead center. The creature bellowed in pain, as Marv and Christoph somehow managed to free themselves from the tentacles, and Darkchant finished the spell. With a resounding crack, the sarcophagus at the center of the pattern split, and the green globe on it's surface shattered.

 

The tentacles of the creature continued to lash my accomplices, and engaged whatever lay within the sarcophagus as well. I put another shot into it's eye, as a bolt of lightening from within the crypt struck it. Again the creature bellowed, and this time the maw was revealed.

 

As the thing opened it's mouth, I silently thanked the gods that I did not have my bionic eye set to infrared. The octopoid body was as cold as space, but the inside of it's mouth was as hot as the surface of a sun! I saw the blast-furnace heat raise blisters on my comrades' skin, and crisp their hair from meters away.

 

Switching my rifle to armor peircing rounds, I put another shot into the eye, and Marv got the idea as he swung his axe to good effect. With the newly released wizard in the fray, the fight was soon over, and the creature disintegrated upon it's demise.

 

Typhus then made a speech, commending himself and Shemeska to the mage (whose name was apparently Amberon). The wizard laughed, and with a word vanished from the premises.

 

I lost no time returning to the entrance of the tomb, to make sure our path of retreat was clear. As the others made their way out somewhat more slowly, I heard a commotion which returned my attention to the inside of the tomb.

 

Typhus seemed to have encountered some difficulty back at the cross-passage, and I heard him call upon his foul god. Returning my visual mode to low-light, I could see several armored humanoid lizards confronting him, just before he was engulfed again in his opaque cloud of insects. The damnable cloud blocked my line of fire to most of the beasts.

 

I could hear the sounds of combat, and I saw flashes of brilliant light through the cloud, as I took whatever shots opportunity offered. I believe that I wounded two of the armored lizards during the battle, but the insect cloud prevented me from any real effectiveness. Fortunately the others seemed up to this particular task, and dispatched whatever foes there were, taking one of the lizards prisoner. Typhus took the opportunity to make yet another speech; more talking than I'd heard him do in a week of aquaintance.

 

We made our way back to the gate to Sigil without further incident, and as Typhus and others went about their business, Darkchant began questioning the prisoner. The prisoner said that his master, Zirann (another powerful mage) was alerted by Amberon's release. He and others of his ilk would hunt us down, yada yada. Darkchant told it to mention the name 'Shemeska' when he met his master in the afterlife. Then he gave the creature to Marv, and things got rather messy.

 

I made my way to the Mortuary to drop off my rifle gems for recharging, and headed to the Blackbird. Typhus arrived soon after, and paid us each 15 gold for finishing the job, apparently a lot of money. He gave us each an additional 2 gold, with an admonition not to be late in the future.

[donkeyjon]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

I have read, understood, and enjoyed this post. I especially like that mentions of Darkchant are infrequent and vague. I support that policy wholeheartedly.

[MordeanGrey]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Good story Darren.

 

Did the Ranger see Zirann himself? I notice you didn't mention his description and the Solar Wand artifact.

[Walter]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Nope, Typhus' bugs were in the way the whole time as far as Zirann went.

 

And Darkchant was pretty infrequently and vaguely seen (he spent a large bit of time hiding behind bugs and whispering in the bad guys ears, as I recall). The Ranger didn't notice any of that. Good thing, too. If he knew you could make someone drop dead by just talking to him, I'm not sure how he'd react, other than violently.

[MordeanGrey]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

The Ranger didn't notice any of that. Good thing, too. If he knew you could make someone drop dead by just talking to him, I'm not sure how he'd react, other than violently.

 

... and thus begins the mad rush for Mental Defense/Power Defense among the other characters! LOL

 

(Jon, you've got them right where you want them! The Deceiver would be proud.)

[Walter]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Feh, the Ranger don't know about it, so I ain't wastin' points on it.

 

Hey, did Darchant make an attack roll for that? It seems to me like you need to touch the target for a drain or a transfer... (Sorry Jon. I don't want to spend the points, so I have to attack the power from the other direction, and make it more expensive).

[MordeanGrey]

Re: [sigil Campaign] The Ranger's Tale

 

Bump for the revival of the campaign.