While I was passing through Automata, I pick up this from a barmy old bubber. He claimed that there existed a temple on an isolated gear-world guarded by a sect calling themselves the Timekeepers. The Timekeepers guarded a clock that formed a perfect model of the multiverse, carefully timing the rotation and movements of all the planes, and all that they contained. The sight of a multitude of infinite and still finite parts containing detail down to the people on them and more, moving in perfect harmony hurt the poor sod's mind (or so he claimed). He asserted that the Timekeepers were attempting to time every event in the multiverse, and match it against the clock. When I left the old sod, he was shuffling back to the gate to Mechanus, hoping to find the Clock and its Keepers once more. I wonder if he had discovered the dark of something, or if he was just another barmy bubber...
While I was passing through Automata, I pick up this from a barmy old bubber. He claimed that there existed a temple on an isolated gear-world guarded by a sect calling themselves the Timekeepers. The Timekeepers guarded a clock that formed a perfect model of the multiverse, carefully timing the rotation and movements of all the planes, and all that they contained. The sight of a multitude of infinite and still finite parts containing detail down to the people on them and more, moving in perfect harmony hurt the poor sod's mind (or so he claimed).
He asserted that the Timekeepers were attempting to time every event in the multiverse, and match it against the clock. When I left the old sod, he was shuffling back to the gate to Mechanus, hoping to find the Clock and its Keepers once more. I wonder if he had discovered the dark of something, or if he was just another barmy bubber...
Any planewalker worth his salt knows that doing business with fiends is a good way to end up in the dead-book. But, on one occasion, I wound up moving some "merchandise" for a hamatula by the name of Freakshow. Anyhow, the job went smooth as a succubus' skin, and he wound up treating me to dinner (I guess that "merchandise"was pretty important to some high-up). Anyhow, Freakshow told me about a few of his exploits in the Blood War. One of the stories involved an encounter he had with a band of tanar'ri in the Grey Wastes while alone on a scouting mission. He followed the tanar'ri hoping they would lead him to more, so he could gate in his fellows to slay the lot. Instead, they lead him to a great pit, more than a mile across and easily than distance deep. Stalking the tanar'ri, he found them at the bottom of the pit, clustered about a huge black obelisk. As he watched, the tanar'ri leader, a marilith, touched the pillar. In response, black tendrils of energy reached out of the pillar, slashing through the body of the tanar'ri leader, then the rest of her company. Carefully moving past the now lifeless bodies of the tanar'ri, Freakshow examined the obelisk. Carved into the faces of the tower, he recognised the names of many Powers: Zeus, Hel, Ygorl, Primus, Lathander, and other thousands of others. However, he all as noted several that had been defaced, leaving jagged scars in the stone. Bane, Bhaal, Myrkul, and other dead gods' names peered from the defaced regions of the pillar. Swiftly, Freakshow returned to report his findings to his commander. Apparently, the baatezu high-ups were pleased by his work, as he runs a cushy shipping/smuggling job for the baatezu armies from Dis.
Any planewalker worth his salt knows that doing business with fiends is a good way to end up in the dead-book. But, on one occasion, I wound up moving some "merchandise" for a hamatula by the name of Freakshow. Anyhow, the job went smooth as a succubus' skin, and he wound up treating me to dinner (I guess that "merchandise"was pretty important to some high-up).
Anyhow, Freakshow told me about a few of his exploits in the Blood War. One of the stories involved an encounter he had with a band of tanar'ri in the Grey Wastes while alone on a scouting mission. He followed the tanar'ri hoping they would lead him to more, so he could gate in his fellows to slay the lot. Instead, they lead him to a great pit, more than a mile across and easily than distance deep.
Stalking the tanar'ri, he found them at the bottom of the pit, clustered about a huge black obelisk. As he watched, the tanar'ri leader, a marilith, touched the pillar. In response, black tendrils of energy reached out of the pillar, slashing through the body of the tanar'ri leader, then the rest of her company. Carefully moving past the now lifeless bodies of the tanar'ri, Freakshow examined the obelisk. Carved into the faces of the tower, he recognised the names of many Powers: Zeus, Hel, Ygorl, Primus, Lathander, and other thousands of others.
However, he all as noted several that had been defaced, leaving jagged scars in the stone. Bane, Bhaal, Myrkul, and other dead gods' names peered from the defaced regions of the pillar. Swiftly, Freakshow returned to report his findings to his commander. Apparently, the baatezu high-ups were pleased by his work, as he runs a cushy shipping/smuggling job for the baatezu armies from Dis.
An old philosopher I encountered while travelling Mount Celestia dropped me this bit of chant. I doubt there's anything to it, but I ain't addle-coved enough to not listen to everything at least once... "I see you are from Sigil, yes? Good. May I present you with the dark of your Lady of Pain. You wish to hear? Good! You see, the entire universe is based on the concept of opposition. Good and evil. Earth and air. Fire and water. Order and chaos. Salt and pepper. So too is your Lady of Pain. Her opposite is the Lord of Bliss, who rules a city with no doors, which rests not at the top of infinity, but at the bottom. They are brother and sister, husband and wife, lovers and enemies. Be blessed, my son." -- Ting Loa, a philosopher with too much time on his hands
An old philosopher I encountered while travelling Mount Celestia dropped me this bit of chant. I doubt there's anything to it, but I ain't addle-coved enough to not listen to everything at least once...
"I see you are from Sigil, yes? Good. May I present you with the dark of your Lady of Pain. You wish to hear? Good! You see, the entire universe is based on the concept of opposition. Good and evil. Earth and air. Fire and water. Order and chaos. Salt and pepper. So too is your Lady of Pain. Her opposite is the Lord of Bliss, who rules a city with no doors, which rests not at the top of infinity, but at the bottom. They are brother and sister, husband and wife, lovers and enemies. Be blessed, my son." -- Ting Loa, a philosopher with too much time on his hands
"I see you are from Sigil, yes? Good. May I present you with the dark of your Lady of Pain. You wish to hear? Good! You see, the entire universe is based on the concept of opposition. Good and evil. Earth and air. Fire and water. Order and chaos. Salt and pepper. So too is your Lady of Pain. Her opposite is the Lord of Bliss, who rules a city with no doors, which rests not at the top of infinity, but at the bottom. They are brother and sister, husband and wife, lovers and enemies. Be blessed, my son."
-- Ting Loa, a philosopher with too much time on his hands
This bit of chant I got from a Clueless paladin. The berk called himself Regulus of the White Lady, and claimed to be seeking something called the Font of the Fallen. He laid out a scroll, and told me about how the Font could change the nature of those who were baptised in it. The clueless sod told me that if a child of a human and a fiend (poor berk didn't even know what a tiefling was!) is baptised in the waters of the font, their fiends blood is cleansed and they become fully human. Additionally, he claimed that if a human is baptised in the font, they become partly angelic (the sod is obviously referring to aasimar). He further claimed that the font could transform the angel-touched into fully heavenly beings, or even redeem demons to partial humanity. Ain't the Clueless a laugh a minute?
This bit of chant I got from a Clueless paladin. The berk called himself Regulus of the White Lady, and claimed to be seeking something called the Font of the Fallen. He laid out a scroll, and told me about how the Font could change the nature of those who were baptised in it. The clueless sod told me that if a child of a human and a fiend (poor berk didn't even know what a tiefling was!) is baptised in the waters of the font, their fiends blood is cleansed and they become fully human.
Additionally, he claimed that if a human is baptised in the font, they become partly angelic (the sod is obviously referring to aasimar). He further claimed that the font could transform the angel-touched into fully heavenly beings, or even redeem demons to partial humanity. Ain't the Clueless a laugh a minute?
Dead Powers for Sale!
Seems that Jinggor (Pl/f human/0 lvl/Fated/N) is selling some interesting wares at her curio shop. With the backing of her business partner Pahel'orse (Pl/m osyluth/LE), she's selling bits of powers. See, they've hired a basher by the name of Hotchcar (Pl/m aasimar/F5/Athar/N) to travel to the Astral and collect pieces of the dead gods. Somehow, they manage to do this despite the githyanki and others who make these great corpses their homes. The business is receiving funding from the Athar, who enjoy the desecration of the pretender gods. At the same time, the enterprise has been receiving anonymous treats for some time. The clergy in Sigil have expressed their distaste at the practice, and the priests of Anubis are furious. Still others whisper that the business is a cover for some baatezu project for the Blood War. A city-wide advertisement campaign is rumoured to be in the works. Some wonder if this could lead to trouble if the rumours surrounding this project are true.
Seems that Jinggor (Pl/f human/0 lvl/Fated/N) is selling some interesting wares at her curio shop. With the backing of her business partner Pahel'orse (Pl/m osyluth/LE), she's selling bits of powers. See, they've hired a basher by the name of Hotchcar (Pl/m aasimar/F5/Athar/N) to travel to the Astral and collect pieces of the dead gods. Somehow, they manage to do this despite the githyanki and others who make these great corpses their homes.
The business is receiving funding from the Athar, who enjoy the desecration of the pretender gods. At the same time, the enterprise has been receiving anonymous treats for some time. The clergy in Sigil have expressed their distaste at the practice, and the priests of Anubis are furious. Still others whisper that the business is a cover for some baatezu project for the Blood War. A city-wide advertisement campaign is rumoured to be in the works. Some wonder if this could lead to trouble if the rumours surrounding this project are true.
The Imprisoned Egg
Heard this bit from a petitioner of Mellifleur, the lich power. The fellow claimed that there existed an orb deep in Carceri that wasn't an orb. This orb is actually an egg. Petitioners to something unknown crawl over the face of the egg, cleaning and polishing it. Do these petitioners worship thing in the egg, or something else? What will happen when the egg hatches? If it's in Carceri, sure as Sigil it ain't nice.
Engines of Destruction
Here's a bit of howl I picked up while visiting an old dear friend at the Bleakers' Gatehouse. Seems there's a tinker gnome by the name of Hasphelt Raurinor locked away in a padded cell down there. Normally, these blokes are a lot of unassuming, rather amusing addle-coves. However, this berk used his skills at invention in ways no sane mind would. He built things that even impressed the fiends. Engines of pain and suffering, death and destruction were his trade. Eventually he brought his breed of carnage to Sigil. Finally, after several of his machines had slain a number of cutters, he was rounded up by the Harmonium, and dumped deep in the belly of the brick beast. Everyone knows that chant, right? Well, what none of the waggers know is that this sod's not alone. Apparently, there's a bunch of these froungy biters down in Acheron, worshipping some improbable shrine of lost machines. Perhaps some forgotten Power is scrounging its way about down there. Whatever the dark is, the Bleak Cabal's had to put some extra wardens on duty. Something keeps trying to get bring this biter out...
Here's a bit of howl I picked up while visiting an old dear friend at the Bleakers' Gatehouse. Seems there's a tinker gnome by the name of Hasphelt Raurinor locked away in a padded cell down there. Normally, these blokes are a lot of unassuming, rather amusing addle-coves. However, this berk used his skills at invention in ways no sane mind would.
He built things that even impressed the fiends. Engines of pain and suffering, death and destruction were his trade. Eventually he brought his breed of carnage to Sigil. Finally, after several of his machines had slain a number of cutters, he was rounded up by the Harmonium, and dumped deep in the belly of the brick beast. Everyone knows that chant, right?
Well, what none of the waggers know is that this sod's not alone. Apparently, there's a bunch of these froungy biters down in Acheron, worshipping some improbable shrine of lost machines. Perhaps some forgotten Power is scrounging its way about down there. Whatever the dark is, the Bleak Cabal's had to put some extra wardens on duty. Something keeps trying to get bring this biter out...
The Zoo of Colours (by Jon Winter)
On a jaunt through Arborea, I caught the chant on a Sensate stronghold way up in the Singing (or was that 'Stinging'?) Mountains. A breakaway group of the thrill-seekers had come to the conclusion that the best way to describe something was through its colour. They seemed to be saying that every object, creature or even idea was imbued with a colour of its own. Well, it sounded like too barmy a philosophy to pass up, so I hopped in a bandwagon and followed the idea to its source. Sure enough, above the tree line in the mountains, lurked a great monastery, presumably long-abandoned by titans. The Sensate cutters had taken over the place, and installed within the cavernous halls a strange series of glass tanks and vats. Considering the rarity of glass in Arborea, it must've cost a pretty penny too, I'd wager. Anyway, inside these receptacles were colour-coordinated displays, of creatures, minerals, plants and liquids. There was a hall for every colour, and an alcove for every hue. Even the lanterns hanging from the ceiling were wrapped in coloured fabrics to lend a tinge to the air. Well, the Sensates seemed to be studying the subtleties of the colours, and seeing how the objects which shared similar tones related to one another. Were they, for example, made of the same material (not in most cases). Did they have similar physical or magical properties? Were they keys of sorts? Since there are such things as "Animal Lords", might there be "Colour Lords" -- physical manifestations of perfect colours? Could hues shed light upon senses, thoughts or experiences? And if one meditated upon these colours, could one gain special powers? From the weird feats I witnessed in that ruined cathedral, I'd say the latter was at least a possibility. And if you see a Sensate cutter sporting a monochromatic costume (be it red, black, green, blue or whatever), give the blood a wide berth until you're sure he ain't a Keeper of the Colours.
On a jaunt through Arborea, I caught the chant on a Sensate stronghold way up in the Singing (or was that 'Stinging'?) Mountains. A breakaway group of the thrill-seekers had come to the conclusion that the best way to describe something was through its colour. They seemed to be saying that every object, creature or even idea was imbued with a colour of its own. Well, it sounded like too barmy a philosophy to pass up, so I hopped in a bandwagon and followed the idea to its source.
Sure enough, above the tree line in the mountains, lurked a great monastery, presumably long-abandoned by titans. The Sensate cutters had taken over the place, and installed within the cavernous halls a strange series of glass tanks and vats. Considering the rarity of glass in Arborea, it must've cost a pretty penny too, I'd wager.
Anyway, inside these receptacles were colour-coordinated displays, of creatures, minerals, plants and liquids. There was a hall for every colour, and an alcove for every hue. Even the lanterns hanging from the ceiling were wrapped in coloured fabrics to lend a tinge to the air.
Well, the Sensates seemed to be studying the subtleties of the colours, and seeing how the objects which shared similar tones related to one another. Were they, for example, made of the same material (not in most cases). Did they have similar physical or magical properties? Were they keys of sorts? Since there are such things as "Animal Lords", might there be "Colour Lords" -- physical manifestations of perfect colours? Could hues shed light upon senses, thoughts or experiences? And if one meditated upon these colours, could one gain special powers?
From the weird feats I witnessed in that ruined cathedral, I'd say the latter was at least a possibility. And if you see a Sensate cutter sporting a monochromatic costume (be it red, black, green, blue or whatever), give the blood a wide berth until you're sure he ain't a Keeper of the Colours.
Nessus - The Darkest Dark (by Paul Nasrat)
I met a half-elf, clothed in black. He saw my recorder and asked if I sought darks. Of course, he could have been barmy...It seemed as if there was more than one person in that body. Strange blood, refused to give his name. One last thing I noticed as he left - he cast no shadow. Here's what he told me: "Baator - the name brings terror to the Prime worlds and to the planars. Three by three levels it is a pyramid of Evil incarnate. The worst Hell of all is Nessus, but no-one seems to know why - except me that is. "Who am I you ask? Merely a friend - close as your shadow am I. No need to explain the other eight hells, they're just elemental in nature. Nessus there's the challenge - we'll have to go back to basics first. "Baator is the home of Illusions, my friend. Any cutter worth his shadow knows that. Deception, terror and law - deadly combination for you materials. Ask any mage and they'll happily tell you that there's a second half of the school of Illusion: - Phantasms the shadows within. Phantasms are Nessus' power, the rest is just for show. "Going to Nessus is going into yourself:- your worst fears manifest, they bind you by your own law, it's a tricky business and not one I'd care to experience. "Nessus is the layer of Phobias; it's connected to the Demiplane of Shadows, and some say to the Demiplane of Imprisonment. If you're afraid of fire, there'll be fire. If you're scared of rats they'll be rats. How do I know this? I can feel your doubts...let's just say I know my shadow side and there's more of Baator in my blood than most." Take my advice, cutters. Be afraid of phantasms. Nightmares can kill you, and it sounds to me like like Nessus will damn you by your own condemnation. Everyone finds themselves guilty inside, even the purest paladin. Keep away from Baator - unless you know your dark side too.
I met a half-elf, clothed in black. He saw my recorder and asked if I sought darks. Of course, he could have been barmy...It seemed as if there was more than one person in that body. Strange blood, refused to give his name. One last thing I noticed as he left - he cast no shadow. Here's what he told me:
"Baator - the name brings terror to the Prime worlds and to the planars. Three by three levels it is a pyramid of Evil incarnate. The worst Hell of all is Nessus, but no-one seems to know why - except me that is. "Who am I you ask? Merely a friend - close as your shadow am I. No need to explain the other eight hells, they're just elemental in nature. Nessus there's the challenge - we'll have to go back to basics first. "Baator is the home of Illusions, my friend. Any cutter worth his shadow knows that. Deception, terror and law - deadly combination for you materials. Ask any mage and they'll happily tell you that there's a second half of the school of Illusion: - Phantasms the shadows within. Phantasms are Nessus' power, the rest is just for show. "Going to Nessus is going into yourself:- your worst fears manifest, they bind you by your own law, it's a tricky business and not one I'd care to experience. "Nessus is the layer of Phobias; it's connected to the Demiplane of Shadows, and some say to the Demiplane of Imprisonment. If you're afraid of fire, there'll be fire. If you're scared of rats they'll be rats. How do I know this? I can feel your doubts...let's just say I know my shadow side and there's more of Baator in my blood than most."
"Baator - the name brings terror to the Prime worlds and to the planars. Three by three levels it is a pyramid of Evil incarnate. The worst Hell of all is Nessus, but no-one seems to know why - except me that is.
"Who am I you ask? Merely a friend - close as your shadow am I. No need to explain the other eight hells, they're just elemental in nature. Nessus there's the challenge - we'll have to go back to basics first.
"Baator is the home of Illusions, my friend. Any cutter worth his shadow knows that. Deception, terror and law - deadly combination for you materials. Ask any mage and they'll happily tell you that there's a second half of the school of Illusion: - Phantasms the shadows within. Phantasms are Nessus' power, the rest is just for show.
"Going to Nessus is going into yourself:- your worst fears manifest, they bind you by your own law, it's a tricky business and not one I'd care to experience.
"Nessus is the layer of Phobias; it's connected to the Demiplane of Shadows, and some say to the Demiplane of Imprisonment. If you're afraid of fire, there'll be fire. If you're scared of rats they'll be rats. How do I know this? I can feel your doubts...let's just say I know my shadow side and there's more of Baator in my blood than most."
Take my advice, cutters. Be afraid of phantasms. Nightmares can kill you, and it sounds to me like like Nessus will damn you by your own condemnation. Everyone finds themselves guilty inside, even the purest paladin. Keep away from Baator - unless you know your dark side too.