The Hammered Fist, Sigil
Mid-Afternoon, Day One
**[by Avi]**

"This tavern is closed for the day!" Sabrilla shrieked. Stefan grumbled to himself, and the two orcs protested with drunken fervor. They did not appreciate the early closing time. The medusa scowled, and toyed with the dark spectacles that crossed her hideous face. "Last person out becomes a stone statue!" There was a mad rush to the door as the patrons quickly evacuated the Hammered Fist. Sabrilla stood alone in the room, amidst polished square tables, hard chairs, and stone sculptures that screamed silently through the chilly air. The petrified dabus still floated in the corner of the room, babbling in nonsense images. She locked the door on her way out.

Durthelaxus was talking to Uriel outside the tavern. "I was thinking about that command I gave you: Only avenge me if I am truly harmed. I have to rephrase that. What if I'm paralyzed or charmed or something? Then you'll just stand there like an idiot. But I have to re-word it carefully, because you take things so damn literally--" The mephit saw Sabrilla coming out to meet them. "Uriel, we'll talk about this later."

She leaned towards them, ever-suspicious. "Talk about what?" Her snake-hair writhed like an anemone.

"None of your business, lady. And keep your hair away from me." He breathed in the dirty sooty air of Sigil. "A good day for a walk. Shall we find Cantha now? Uriel, walk beside me." The mephit proceeded down the street, clouds of dust billowing behind him. To his right, the golden deva marched with a bland expression stamped on his beatific face. The medusa strode on his left side, serpentine hair lashing against the wind.

She glanced at the silent deva. "It doesn't take a rilmani to figure out that something's strange concerning your friend. He's a terrible conversationalist, he has all the emotions of a modron, and he does nothing but follow your orders. Where did you find him?"

"Doesn't matter. The point is, he listens to me and no one else, because I'm his master."

"You?! You're a mephit, a messenger boy, a dust mite with an overblown sense of importance."

He bristled, his wings shaking off layers of dust. "I am Durthelaxus, Doom-Dealer, Slayer of Fiends, Greatest of All Dust Mephits, Ruler of the Great Sea of--"

"Indeed! I've heard that already. I thought a Quasi-Elemental Lord ruled the Plane of Dust."

"Actually, he's my right-hand man. He rules the place in my stead when I'm out on important business. So let's talk about you. What are you doing in Sigil? Shouldn't you be fighting that hero Perseus?"

The medusa scowled upon hearing that name. "May he petrify and crumble," she said, intoning the ancient curse. "No, I came here to make Art. To capture in stone the tortured expression of fear and anguish of a person who knows that his moment of death has come. A tavern seemed like a good way to bring in victims. What to you think of that, deva?" she spat.

"It is an evil thing," Uriel said in a flat tone.

They fell silent for some time, walking close together yet separated by a gulf of discordancy. Their footsteps echoed off the cobblestone street. "Did you realize how quiet it is here?" the mephit suddenly pointed out. It was true. The neighborhood was desolate, for there was no sign of life, not even a cranium rat skulking in the shadows. The silence was unnerving. Sigil, nexus of the multiverse, always bustled with the activity of numerous planewalkers. This city was not meant to be quiet.

The mismatched threesome continued on their way, not sharing their thoughts, wary for any form of movement. They didn't find any signs of life, but there were plenty of dead bodies about. The first corpse was sprawled in the middle of the street, freshly-killed, and the cracks between the cobblestones gleamed wet with red blood. The man had been sliced and diced, slaughtered by a mad butcher. Durthelaxus noticed the surgical incisions that severed the flesh, not the ragged cuts made by an ordinary sword but something infinitely sharper. Pebbles rose in his throat like bile.

More butchered corpses lay strewn throughout the neighborhood, slouched up against walls, carpeting the streets, or lying across open doorways like welcome mats. Sabrilla thought that the streams of blood contrasted nicely against the grayish bricks and stones. One fact alarmed her: that the dead included petitioners as well as fiends and celestials. Both the weak and the mighty had been cut down like sliced fruit. At some level, she knew the killer's identity, but this was not a good time and place to blurt out that name. And she burned with the question of "why?"

From a distance, the trio heard the comforting murmur of humanity and navigated towards it. Soon the noise rose to a loud crescendo and became the shouting and screaming of a panicked mob. Hundreds of people milled about a town square at the center of the neighborhood. Merchants stood behind hastily-built stands and sold gatekeys at inflated prices to a long line-up of customers. Hired mercenaries flexed muscle and magic to keep the crowd in some semblance of order. Portals were advertised by various establishments and the competition was fierce; boys with hand-painted signs shouted at the top of their lungs, trying to compete with the massive illusionary signs and Magic Mouths that hovered above. Uriel, Sabrilla and Durthelaxus fell into the swarming crowd, caught up in its fearful energy and spinning like small fish trapped in a maelstrom.

They regrouped on the opposite corner of the plaza, where another mob had coalesced around a raven-haired man standing atop a podium. "Listen to me! I understand your pain!" he beseeched. He spoke in a strong clear voice, and they clung to his words like frightened children seeking security. "I know your fears! Friends and loved ones lost, failing to arrive today by portal. Others have stepped through the portals to search for them and never returned!" Cries of assent echoed from the mob. "Our Lady goes on a murder spree, not just in this neighborhood but throughout the city. She kills and kills without remorse!" The people roared and shook their fists. "But there's more! Rumours of fiendish armies pouring through portals. Sigil is a war zone, and the piles of bodies are rising! And you ask why? Why is this happening to us? My friends, I know why!"

Durthelaxus instantly disliked the speaker. His striking features were too handsome; his voice was too rich and captivating, almost magical. The speaker appeared human, but could be a pit fiend or balor for all he knew. In a world where many planar beings could alter their form and frequently did so, appearances counted for nothing.

Meanwhile, the crowd was pleading for answers. "Yes, I will explain the dark of it. My friends, the Lady of Pain has forsaken us. She no longer wants us in her city! She has become a demented sociopath!" he spat. "Thus she allows the dark armies to enter, to chase you out of Sigil. Thus she prevents people from entering this city. And thus she slaughters you." His anger melted away to reveal a radiant smile. "But she will let you leave. She wants you to leave. And the multiverse is a grand place, containing realms so much more wonderful than this wretched grey city. Leave this place of carnage! Go, my friends, find a portal, and ascend to the realm of your heart's desire..." The crowd blinked and dispersed with calm smiles. Their confusion and panic had melted away.

Sabrilla said, "You have to admit his arguments make sense. For me, there's still a matter of Cantha. I've always despised the fact that I was in her debt. But once I settle that matter, there's no reason to stay in Sigil."

The mephit frowned. "But what about the incident at the Hammered Fist? How does that fit in? Did it ever occur to you that the stone dabus was right? Like you said, he came last night and rambled about a mad Lady and portal malfunctions. He knew all that before it started happening today! I say we go back to the tavern and interrogate him. Seeing Cantha with more information will yield a greater reward."

"That means going back through that death-zone. I don't want to be another sliced corpse on the ground."

"Uriel can teleport me along with him. You can wait here. We'll return soon." The medusa agreed. Durthelaxus grabbed the deva's hand. "Uriel, teleport me with you to inside the Hammered Fist tavern." They vanished with a 'woosh' as air rushed in to fill the void in their wake. They simply ceased to exist there as Uriel stepped through reality and into the Hammered Fist. It was because of this power, and many others, that Durthelaxus treasured his seraphic bodyguard.

It took a moment to recover from that interspatial step, mind and senses furiously remapping the new world that had risen around them. Durthelaxus felt that familiar sense of "post-teleportation anxiety", as he called it. Thus he was relieved to see that the town square had been replaced by the tavern, as expected. Unfortunately, the crowds of people had now become a swarm of hellspawn. Gibbering hordlings filled the room, their bodies a deranged mixture of body parts designed by a mad surgeon.

With detached curiosity, Durthelaxus saw the end of his arm affixed to the belly of an angry hordling. He couldn't feel his hand. One wing seemed stuck from behind but he couldn't turn around to look. He realized that materializing into a crowded tavern can result in flesh melded together.

The hordlings lunged at Durthelaxus with taloned hands, suckered tentacles and crushing pincers. The mephit looked up at faces too twisted and varied to describe and cried weakly, "Uriel, help me!" As the darkness closed in, he realized too late that he wasn't going to be saved. Locked in a zombie-like trance, Uriel wouldn't understand specifically what help the mephit required. And so the deva would stand there like an idiot. In a way, it was quite funny. That was his last thought before the darkness took him away.

Near the Night Market, Sigil
Anti-Peak, Day Two
**[by B. Mooney]**

Exhaustion threatening to consume him, Cray continued to push his ragtag band along the darkened streets of the Cage. At the moment, he was having trouble deciding which was worse: trying to maneuver their way into speaking with each Factol, or the trek across the seemingly endless city to reach these Factions. A message to each Factol, indeed. Cray had counted himself lucky to have met his own Factol twice in his career, and now he was to deliver a personal message to each. Insanity. He understood that the Cage was in danger, but why was this his mission and his alone? Once again, a marionette prancing to the tune of his unseen puppeteer. At least this time the job seemed to have a benevolent purpose, if not a wicked sense of humor.

He did not need look behind him to know the weary faces of his companions. It was good to have them along even though he had balked at bringing them on this journey. Bliss, he had definitely needed along. Where Cray's glib tongue had failed to gain them entry to see one of the Factols, a bit of mental coercion from the illithid had succeeded. Delva had helped to keep their spirits high as the task drew on into the late hours of the night. Even this odd, new woman who called herself Harpsichord had proven useful, dominating her way into a private audience at the Hall of Speakers to see Factol Darius with her nearly insane diatribe. Without his interesting band of travelers, this task would have been foolhardy.

He had not wanted to give them any details, nor provide them with any reason to accompany him. Yet they had followed anyway, general compassion and curiosity from Delva and Bliss. He had no idea why Harpsichord had come along, and he was too harried to be bothered by it. When their duty had become evident, he gave them the barest of information. He hated to bring anyone down talking of an invasion of Sigil, yet they had to suspect. What other reason would he have to give warning to every Factol in the city? And so they had, covering seven of the fourteen Factions so far. Cray was thankful the Xaositects had been excluded; finding who was Factol for the week could have consumed an entire day alone. On that same note, he had no idea how to pursue the leader of the Revolutionary League. Supposedly, the Anarchists were split into multiple groups of their own, and they don't even claim to have a Factol. For that manner, neither do the Free League. His best bet would be to pass the info on to an influential member of the group and go from there. So much planning, so much worrying. His head had not ceased its pain in hours.

" Cray, we should talk about things." It was Bliss, gently whispering into his mind. Even though the touch was gentle, much gentler than his employer, it still hurt like a fiend. " I have learned some of Delva's past, back to a time when she used a different name. Also, it seems that she practiced magic. " His reply was the mental equivalent of mumbling an acknowledgement. That was interesting, but not very surprising. Cray had known she was far from an ordinary bubber, but a mage? Still, this didn't seem the time to worry about it.

" Also, you have led us around this city all night with promises to tell us more. Promises you have not delivered... " Cray stopped and whirled around to face the illithid. " If you wish to talk about it, I am very capable of listening... "

" Look, Bliss," he interrupted, the voice in his mind's eye a bit harsher than he intended. "I've had a really bad day and I've got a tremendous headache. If you want to know all the reasons for what I'm doing, feel free to rip through my head and get the dark yourself! That's what everyone else has done today." With that thought, he turned and stalked off ahead of the group. There was no reply from Bliss.

Why couldn't they understand? You just can't tell everything. Some people can't handle the truth, especially not people on the edge. Working in the Gatehouse had clearly shown him that over time. Cray even felt himself on the edge at times like this. It seemed that everyone was trying to control him, to push him around in one way or another. How many times had he suffered today from someone forcing their will upon him? If this continued, could his own grim retreat be far away? It was almost enough to make him take up the sword once more...

Cray stopped himself. He was tired and stressed near the point of breaking, making himself miserable enough to lash out at his friends. The few people in this city, in this multiverse that seemed to care about him. And there he was, ready to abandon them and continue on full of arrogant pride. Had life gotten this bad?

As if in reply to his silent question, the clouds began to gently rain down upon the group and surrounding buildings. Looking at his companions, none looked too happy. Even Bliss, whose shoulders were slumped and tentacles hung down straight. Cray had not asked them to come along, but now he felt responsible for them. Cray, the slave-driver. They had to push on, but there was still ample time to complete the job before dawn. He ran a hand through his damp red hair and sighed.

" Okay, since we're halfway done, let's take a break. We could all use a bite to eat and a place to rest up." They all looked at him strangely, and then one by one, their eyes lit up. One could almost see the spark of life returning to them. " But I'll be pressing on in a little while. I have until dawn to do this and it will be done. " he stated, not adding the remark, whether you accompany me or not. Likely, it was understood.

"That'd be really rum, Mister Cray," Harpsichord piped up. " I know I, we, all of us could all use a good sit-down." Cray looked at the grinning priestess and forced a smile. He would have to have a discussion with Bliss as to why she was with them, and just how deep inside the Gatehouse they had found her.

Together, with the tall tiefling in the lead, the group headed into the Night Market in search of a place bearing decent food, a good roof, and excellent chairs.

Ribcage
Anti-Peak, Day Two
**[By Autumn Skye Port]**

Iron Lily was worried. It wasn't a comfortable feeling for a baatezu, least of all one under direct orders from one of the Dark Eight themselves. "You must NOT fail us, regardless of the reason!" Those nine words rang incessantly in her head. Three days. Three mere days! Countless millennia of warfare, planning and plotting and now this chance! The entire Blood War could be altered for all eternity for the greater glory of Baator if her plans succeeded. The whole entire contents of her body would be altered for all eternity to a much worse state if she failed...

Aqva'at was equally worried, though for vastly different reasons. He was concerned HIS contents would be altered by Iron Lily. He now had enough information about Lil's plans to pass along some useful chant this time around to Mertian, though the thought wasn't all that pleasant. Why, oh why, had he slipped and gotten tricked into working for him? No self respecting fiend would admit a mistake, but boy, this "mistake" was going to be hard to correct. Eh. He had to view it as a learning experience, for his own sanity. Aqva'at sighed, grasping a splintered old halberd he'd owned for just over a century now. To end the war!

Impossible. There was no way to do so, his baatezu pride told him "yes," his logic said "no." He stared at the crudely carved words in the halberd's handle. "Nvec't akra minota"--there's no such thing as an unwinnable war. Zimimar's words, the Minister of Morale. Iron Lily was a devotee of Zim the Zealot--as she was unofficially known. Lil'd carry out these plans unfailingly. Mertian had to know about this, the hamatula was bound by his word to inform him of day to day changes in his superior's schemes. Yet Aqva'at couldn't shake some inner confidence that told him that the Eight couldn't be the true source; Lil' was obviously misled by someone or something, just he didn't know what quite yet. Zimimar would never think she could coordinate the securing of all of Sigil's portals in just three days. Zealous in her hatred of the tanar'ri, yes, but certainly not stupid. He was sure she and others of the Eight, throughout their immortal lives, had certainly tried. The war would have been over long ago if securing ALL the doors was even possible.

No, Mertian definitely had a right to know, but perhaps Aqva'at was truly doing Baator a favor by questioning this "authority" Iron Lily was obeying. Maybe then HE could get that elusive position of hers he'd coveted all this time. He liked Zimimar, but not all of her lieutenants, and Lil' was certainly one he wasn't too fond of. Yes, he'd check this story out thoroughly first. His watch over, Aqva'at walked a few blocks down Ribcage's streets just outside of Lil's headquarters and pulled out a iron coin, tossing it against the keystone of an arch and vanishing into the Sigilian mists waiting beyond. Unknown to him, the portal would only work this last time before becoming a casualty of the siege altering Sigil's gates...

The uneasiness soon passed Lil's mind, her normally calm and logically deliberate demeanor replacing these fleeting feelings of doubt she'd entertained about achieving her goals. She had just arrived here in Ribcage, envisioning the perfect opportunity to right a wrong done to her so long ago. Two centuries? Three? Gargoth's daggers, she'd lost count. It'd been awhile. She'd been passed up for a long sought out promotion through pride. Usually pride was a good thing, a necessary thing in Baator, but this time it had been a two edged sword, cutting her deeply. Fortunately for her, her witnesses to this fall from grace were all dead. No evidence equals no crime in Baator, so though regarded with suspicion, she'd narrowly escaped the traditional bloodcurdling punishments meted out to rebellious insurrectionists in favor of a delay in circumstances.

She'd overridden a superior's orders, questioning their motives during a crucial battle in the Blood War, in the infamous Field of Nettles. Pride had told her that *she* alone knew the best way to command her battalion, never mind what that silly pit fiend had to say of it, akkrabar or not. Charging off alone without the support of the secondary reinforcements scheduled to arrive, Iron Lily had ignored orders to use her general's tactics to utilize the Broken Wheel formation and attacked the tanar'ri outright. The move was successful at first, morale was high as they sliced through the tanar'ri defenses like week old meat left out to rot, the demonic creatures taken by surprise by this sudden change in tactics. Unfortunately it mattered little, they just went with the flow and quickly switched tactics on her as well and Lil' found herself ordering the entire battalion to retreat; within mere moments as the tides turned against them.

Problem was, they hadn't completed the Wheel formation, and cornered, the pit fiend general made a desperate last effort to call Lil' back to help defend the remainder of their waning forces. They were becoming outnumbered as reinforcements arrived for the tanar'ri, dropping their baatezu like flies onto the squishy, bloodied muck. Lil' got the message, only to realize too late that two-thirds of her own forces were already dead, the survivors taking grievous wounds and heavy losses without the support of their fellows. Their morale finally DID break then, and they scattered, hunted down like dogs thereafter and killed to a man.

Killed to a man -- but not to a fiend as Iron Lily survived long enough to get back to the dead general's body. Fighting off several dozen manes in order to retrieve a 2 inch coin comprised of bone and steel, she found the rumored portal key to Ribcage, her last hope of escape. Lil' shivered as she saw, no *felt* the two mariliths and a cambion come for her to complete the circle in death that her commander had failed to establish while alive. Remembering where the key was, she winced, slitting the fiend's belly crosswise and freeing the key from it's stomach from where it had been swallowed in defense. The tanar'ri would have done the same anyway, she reasoned and she stoically reached inside the grisly mass of flesh, spoke nine words and disappeared just as she heard one of the marilith's order the cambion to stop her exodus.

The name she heard was F'chak'tor, a name she would mark with enmity for eternity. This time she'd turn the tables, avenge her race and end the War for good. Soddin' tanar'ri scum! Visions of the cambion's heart torn from his still screaming body as she clutched its beating mass and drowned him in his own blood kept the young cornugon very content indeed. After all, what he'd deemed good for the goose was good for the gander as well, right? She smiled silently musing once more on this favorite fantasy of hers and began to ready herself to meet her contact for her next set of "instructions." Revenge was best tempered by time, and Iron Lily believed the time was finally right.

The Mindspider's Lair, Sigil
Anti-Peak, Day Two
**[By Autumn Skye Port]**

Mertian sensed his spy was back in Sigil, briefly. He delved into the baatezu's mind, past the superficial hurry and general discontent the creature usually carried around, down into his message. He'd know what Aqva'at had to say long before he actually had to say it. It was always interesting to notice how the inner truth and what those fiends actually *said* seemed to never match up completely.

Aqva'at was beginning to doubt the authenticity of Iron Lily's "orders." Too many flaws for a baatezu plan, too quick, too flimsy. Wasn't right. The fiend had good instincts. Mertian had ruled out Baator as the source of the problem long ago. Sure, they'd LOVE to take over the City of Doors, throw out the factions and the Lady of Pain, and just run right over the rest of the multiverse. Three days certainly wasn't enough time to accomplish it. They had the motive but not the means. The yugoloths had the means, espionage and secret corruption was more their line of work, but not the motivation. The Blood War was very profitable right now and controlling portals to lead attacks wasn't nearly as beneficial as fostering the fighting by giving each side equal chances at treachery. They'd be more likely to throw open the entire city just for the havoc and escalation it would provide the two sides. Plenty of profit then. The tanar'ri just plain weren't capable of a plan that grand. No, it was something else.

There was another reason the Mindspider had wanted Aqva'at to come to him in person. He couldn't risk the informant going to anyone else in Baator and revealing the dark of what Lil' was doing. Dagos would know in an instant it wasn't HIS strategy and Zimimar would no doubt send one of her avengers out to stop the whole thing, if not showing up in person. She took care of things very often herself, even in Sigil, and Mertian certainly did not want to drag in more problems. He'd take pains to conceal the hamatula's comings and goings through some gentle mental suggestion. Ugh. He didn't like the uneasy, crawling feeling he got from entwining his mind with the Wretched One's, but all in the line of duty. He had to protect the city, it was his past, his present, his future. His duty. Lady's Grace, it would be done.

The Mazes
Day Two, Anti-Peak
**[by Brannon Hollingsworth]**

"I think I've got it!"

Tandin, catching his breath suddenly and spinning from his trademark, near-prone 'watch' stance nearly jumped out of his all-too precious skin at the mage's sudden declaration. His eyes wide with heart-stopping surprise and something akin to fear, he poked his head up from behind the pile of rubble that he had just been reclining upon. He took special care in making absolutely certain that there was precious little of his own hide exposed, just in case the mage had been attacked by the gods-only-know-what. Tandin grinned to himself when he saw that the coast was clear, and that it was, in fact, only the near barmy mage babbling about that used portal key.

One could, after all, be only so careless in his line of work.

Seeing that the mage was still mooney-eyed over his discovery, Tandin pulled his dagger from his belt sheath and began drumming the balls of his feet lightly on the stones beneath him. Gradually letting the volume of the beats increase the halfling spun into a leap-roll away from the rubble, panting as if he had just run a half-league, whipping the dagger to the fore.

"I heard screams..." he panted, "-what's wrong...I...came as fast...as I could..."

Kerjal's head snapped up from his work - which lay piled about him in heaped stacks of travel logs, spellbooks, quills, ink vials, several burning and long-since used candles, loose scrolls and sheets of paper and vellum, as well as several other items that the halfling could not begin to identify - a toothy, silly grin on his features.

"Nothing's the matter, Tandin, it is just that I've straightened out this mess regarding this maze key." The wizard's silly look slowly melted into a quizzical one as he took in the halfling's measure, particularly noting the sleep-bags beneath his eyes. Somewhere off in the near darkness came the all-too-familiar sound of G'kar's snoring, accentuating the mage's thoughts. The halfling was supposed to be guarding their backs while G'kar rested and he studied the key while they camped for the night, or at least, what ever passed for night in this gods-forsaken place. He made a quick mental note, and then decided to let the incident go unchecked, but continued his explanation.

"It seems that this spool", the wizard held the offending sewing implement up for the halfling to see, "was used as a portal key to enter this maze, which is substantiated by you, correct?"

The halfling, who was still pondering the strange look that the mage had given him, immediately saw an opening to regain face. "Well, there's a Guvner loophole, if I ever heard one." Tandin said sarcastically, sheathing his dagger soundlessly and dropping down, unceremoniously, across from the mage. He chuckled, "Please, share with me another of your secrets of the multiverse, will ya?"

Kerjal smiled, nodding slightly. He continued, undaunted by the halfling's sarcasm. "It seems that this portal key was intended for another destination point, one different from this maze. Is that correct, as well?"

The halfling now interested but not about to show it, nodded slightly, his eyes falling to the spool. "Yea, I was headin' to Sigil." Tandin didn't see the harm in telling them something that they most likely knew already.

The mage smiled again, noting both the halfling's reaction, as well as the fact that their destinations had been the same. "My magical studies have shown something with this portal key that I believe to be new knowledge regarding portal keys in general. It seems that because this portal key has not reached it intended destination point, that it has retained some of the latent magical energies that, by the very nature of it being a portal key, it contained to begin with!" Kerjal finished with a wild-eyed grin that would have looked completely normal on a priest balking on the top of Mount Celestia.

Tandin, brow furrowed in concentration, shook his head slightly. "Huh?"

Kerjal sighed. He could see right now that this was going to be like teaching a dergholoth to dance - nigh impossible. "Look, Tandin, it works something like this: you know that in the Astral -"

"Yea, I know about the Astral!" the halfling interrupted with a wave of his tiny hand. "I was there once, ya know... I was, in fact, engaged to a githyanki princess, and I can tell ya one thing, my friend. I would rather stare down a whole herd of armanites than a githyanki mother-in-law again, I tell ya!"

Kerjal shook his head, chuckling in spite of himself. "I can only imagine, Tandin... At any rate, on the Astral, there are said to be 'echoes' of spells long ago cast, merely floating about. This screed also balks about if a cutter can grab one of these echoes; he can cast the spell just as if he had the thing in his head all along. I think that this portal key..." the mage emphasized by holding out the spool, which flickered with what seemed to be the reflection of silver thread, "-has the 'echo' of whatever magic it once had to open portals."

Enlightenment dawned on the halfling like a morning on Elysium, bright and unmistakable. "Ahhh. I think I see it now. If the spool has the echo of the magic..."

"We can possibly use that echo to open another portal and get us out of here!" Kerjal finished, triumphant. Then, a shadow of doubt crept into the mage's eye and he looked the halfling square in the face. "The only problem is that it's not strong enough."

All of a sudden, it got dark in Elysium. "What?" said the halfling.

"This one 'echo' I not strong enough. Somehow, we must find a way to make it stronger before it can pierce the magical fabric that surrounds the extra-dimensional space that we are contained within... If, in fact, it is an extra-dimensional space..."

"Yer talking like a Guvner again, bub..."

The Mortuary, Sigil
Anti-Peak, Day Two
**[by Dan Reddy]**

Pathosis looked at the two dustmen collectors as they laid the body of an elf on the table. They turned to him and the taller one spoke. "Is there anything more that you require?" Pathosis shook his head. "No, you are relieved." The taller dustman nodded and then they both exited the chamber. Pathosis stood observing the corpse.

"Are you ready to begin?"

Pathosis turned to the speaker, "Yes 187, I am ready. Begin recording." The rogue Modron held its stylus to the pad of parchment. Pathosis then approached the corpse.

"The subject is an unidentified male elf of the Gray species. Estimated height is 5 feet and 9 inches, the estimated weight is 130 pounds." Pathosis stood next to the elf and with one hand opened the left eye. "Eyes are gray and the hair is silver." Pathosis paused, and then removed a magnifying glass from his pocket. He leaned down and held the glass near what remained of the elf's skull. "The crown and occipital region of the skull are missing. The edges of the remaining cranium show the missing regions were removed by a multi-pointed sharp instrument in a single clean motion. The subject's brain has been removed completely; the only remaining neurological tissue is the top of the spinal cord. There is no other damage to the cranium. The blood remaining in the vasculature surrounding the cranium shows normal lividity, indicating that the subject was alive at the time the damage occurred. The subject's thoracic region is^Å"

The rogue Modron wrote every word spoken by Pathosis as he continued the examination.

"Stop recording," Pathosis instructed when he was complete. 187 set the stylus down and placed the written pages on a stack of parchment. Pathosis walked over to a cabinet and removed a flask. After a long draught he stoppered the flask and turned to 187. "That is the twenty second body brought to us with similar injuries. What is your analysis?"

187 blinked twice. "The subjects all perished by the same means. The actual dimensions of the injuries, after figuring the different sizes and shapes of each skull, indicate that while the subjects all expired in the same manner, the size of the objects that removed or attempted to remove the cranial regions were different. The injuries on the subjects whose skulls were intact indicate that in each case the injuries were caused by a biological organism that places its mouth over the head of the victim and removes the skull region with its teeth performed in a sawing motion. These injuries have not been recorded before today, implying that these creatures are new."

Pathosis nodded at the analysis. "Your observations are correct. Have you heard any of the things that are happening in Sigil at this time?" 187 blinked again. "No, I have not." Pathos sighed. "It seems that all portals are not functioning correctly, and that the few that have entered through them have come from a place consistent with the Mazes. The city is in an uproar. This all began happening shortly before we were brought the first body."

"The orc, you mean?"

"Yes, the orc. Given this information, what would you surmise?"

187 blinked again. "That the two occurrences are related."

Pathosis nodded. "Now, given that we do not have complete information, it would seem that no one can enter or leave Sigil without entering the Mazes. Based on the details surrounding the orc and the githzerai, it seems that those few that are able to leave the Mazes are injured or killed in the same way. I think it is rather frightening to think that something is killing anyone using a portal. I wonder how the Harmonium is going to find out what is doing all this." Pathosis removed the stopper from his flask. "I don't see how they can stop it. There is no way of telling where in the Mazes each portal leads, so what we have is something preying on any poor sod who climbs through a portal. There is no pattern to what is happening, so they don't have a chance of stopping whatever is doing this." Pathosis held the flask up to drink.

"That is incorrect. There is a pattern to those that have been killed by having portions of their skulls removed."

Pathosis looked at 187 in shock. "What do you mean?"

187 blinked twice. "All of the bodies examined were found in the Lower Ward. Only two have been verified as coming from through a portal."

Pathosis shook his head. "I'm not understanding you, what do you mean."

"The information available suggests that the creatures causing this damage may be involved with the situation surrounding the portals. The information suggests that they are in the mazes as well, but based on the fact that every body with these injuries is from the Lower Ward, it is quite clear that some of these creatures are in Sigil, operating from the Lower Ward."

Pathosis turned pale as heard these words. "By the gods, we must tell someone immediately!"

187 watched as Pathosis scrambled out the door. It blinked twice then turned and began to file the records of each examination.

The Civic Festhall, Sigil
Early morning, Day Two
**[by Arawn]**

Factol Erin Montgomery furrowed her brow slightly. She didn't look pleased.

"Fiends? Invading Sigil? Are you sure?" she asked, looking at each one in turn. A tiefling, two humans, and an illithid. How interesting! Any other time, and she would be asking them how they got along as well as they did.

Cray sighed. He had heard this question, or its equivalent, from every other Factol in the city. He had even bumped into Factol Karan in the middle of Hedge Row, not far from the Hall of Speakers. Of course, Karan didn't seem to care much about Cray's news. "Yes, Factol Montgomery, fiends are going to invade Sigil, if they haven't begun already. And personally, I believe they have."

Harpsichord looked warily at the spiny ball-like creature that appeared to be licking the Factol's foot. Somehow, the Factol had managed an expression of ecstasy and disgust mixed together. This expression ended when Cray began his tirade, although bits of it popped through every now and then.

"I see... well, I suppose I better do something about it. All the Factions should. I suppose you've been to the other Factols?" she said, arching an eyebrow at the bunch.

Bliss groaned to himself. He was quite exhausted from the trek through Sigil, even after the break Cray had decided they'd take halfway through. What had really gotten him was the secrecy surrounding the Anarchists. They had to go through quite a bit to see some fellow named Beringe, who was the closest the Anarchists had to a Factol. At least that Bliss could tell. What bothered him most about that visit was that it took over an hour just to see him. More time wasted.

"Yes, we have, Factol Montgomery. Forgive us for waking you at this late hour, but..." Cray stopped as he heard a dull "thud" from behind him. He turned and saw Delva lying on the ground, asleep. Poor thing, she must be exhausted...

The Society of Sensation's leader simply smiled. "Yes, I understand. You've been up all night talking to all of them, you must all need some sleep. Porfys!" A man no one knew was there stepped out of some strategically-arranged shadows. "Get some rooms for these poor souls. I don't want them to be disturbed, even if the fiends knock on the door of the Festhall itself! Go! Cray, Abigail, Bliss, follow him. I'll take care of everything."

Cray frowned a bit at that last sentence, but he was much too tired to argue. He helped Bliss pick Delva up gently and carry her off after the large man, who was lumbering down a hallway. Sleep, at last...

Roof of the Green-Striped Elephant Tavern
Across from the Civic Festhall, Sigil
Early morning, Day 2
**[by Arawn]**

He saw Porfys make sure all four of them were settled in, and then waved his hand over the crystal ball to shut it off. He hadn't been able to hear what they had been saying, but that was of little import. They were sleeping now, sleeping in the upper sections of the building. In rooms with windows.

Making no sound at all, he ran and jumped until he was just a few short feet away from one of their windows. Delva. Yes. Abigail. It mattered little to him what she was called. He slipped in silently and looked at her more closely. She had tossed and turned a little, so the small of her back was exposed. Perfect. He took a small snake from his sleeve and lay it on her flesh. The snake sunk into her flesh, resembling a small tattoo. Excellent. Now she would slowly change, ever slowly, and the others wouldn't notice until it was too late. He permitted himself a small smile. This was only the beginning.

He left the room just as silently, vanishing into the shadows cast by the brightening light.

The Mazes
Early Morning, Day Two
**[by John Gonzales]**

The halfing jogged up to where the mage was walking in the front of the trio and asked, "So, what you were saying Kerjal, is that we each got diverted from our destination, which was Sigil, and brought here. The diversion drained my portal key enough that it couldn't finish it's job, but that if we can find a weak point in the maze as well as another partly charged portal key, we get out of here?"

Kerjal looked down distractedly at Tanden and replied, "Er..., ah.... yes that's it exactly, now go back with G'Kar - I need to concentrate on maintaining the detection spell."

The small adventurer obliged happily, content in knowing that he finally deciphered the mage's confusing babble from earlier, "See, I told you I knew what he was talking about." G'Kar gave Tandin a side- long glance and just snorted as he continued following his friend, sword out and resting on his shoulder as he kept an eye out for trouble.

The Barbed Tail, Sigil
Early Morning, Day Two
**[by John Gonzales]**

Sabrilla slinked into the Barbed Tail, a haunt she had tried hard to forget. Passing by the osyluth at the door, she paused to let her eyes adjust to the smoky darkness of the glorified pit. `Good it's empty' she thought to herself as she made her way to the center bar. Only one of the stages was in use due to the fact that it was between the usual busy periods being that most fiends hated being up at such an unholy hour. A lithe tabaxi jumped and twirled around the center pole avoiding the half hearted slaps and gropes by the few patrons that were still conscious, she was a new one barely a scar on her, yet. On the other side of the stage a tiefling with rams horns and a tail had the misfortune to dance to close to a barbazu and was soon struggling to get free, while Nerila, a erinyes was being propositioned by a pair of cambions as she worked the floor. The medusa spotted another familiar face and walked over to the bar, leaning over the counter she whispered into the ear of a plain looking human, "Hey killer who do I have to kill to get served?"

The bartender turned around smiling "Sabrilla, long time no see. Came back for your job?" The medusa frowned slightly as he finished putting the rest of the glasses in an acid bath, "There isn't enough jink in the great wheel to get me to dance here again Reznol." she breathed, placing a couple of coins on the bar, " Give me a Slaadi Surprise." Reznol, rumored to be the owner as well as a yugoloth, smiled an evil grin as he started to pour various liquids and concoctions without looking, "So, Sabrilla, I know you aren't here for the company, anything you need to know?"

The medusa waited for Reznol to finish pouring the bubbling concoction into two recently scoured glasses, and took a healthy draught. "I need to find Cantha." she gasped from her raw throat. Reznol raised an eyebrow saying, "I thought that ended years ago. Anyway she was here two days ago dancing, I have no idea when her next shift is or where she is now."

Near the Great Foundry, Sigil
Early Morning, Day Two
**[by John Gonzales]**

Durthelaxus' world filled with blinding pain, never had he experienced so much agony. Suddenly there was a sense of soothing and the pain gradually numbed to a dull roar. He opened his eyes and found himself looking up at Uriel and the human from the Hammered Fist. The mephit was lying in pile of some dusty waste from the foundry, "How?" he croaked.

Stefan knelt down at Durthelaxus and replied, "Well, Durt, you're lucky I came along when I did. You see, I was going to sneak into the medusa's bar and try out the portal when everyone was gone. As it turned out I saw those little monsters buggering around the place and decided the portal could wait, when you two suddenly appeared, taking two of them out at once, must say that was a very interesting tactic you used." grinning Stefan continued, "Anyways I jumped in and help you boys out, had to goad Uriel here on during the fight, but once he got started, that was a sight to see. Um sorry about your hand and wing, but I figgered you didn't feel like being a hordling's accessory."

Durthelaxus groggily trying to absorb the information suddenly looked at where his left hand should have been and fainted away. Stefan looked at Uriel and shook his head as he began shoveling more dust on the prone mephit.

Plague-mort
Early-Morning, Day Two
**[by Ken Lipka]**

They stood at rough attention under the bloated red skies just outside the gatetown. A hundred score of the toughest mercenaries and "independent" Tanar'ri Blood Warriors that he could assemble in one day. The front lines consisted of the manes and dretch that had survived the fight for the Hive portal in the Gray Waste. The remainder of the legion consisted of the most vicious, ruthless, and corrupt humans, tieflings, humanoids, and others that were to be had in Plague-mort and the Abyss-side towns of Broken Reach and Gallowsgate. The small army was undisciplined and deeply divided by hatred. The humans and tiefers, while suspicious of each other, bunched together and were even more suspicious of the Tanar'ri and other "monsters" that filled out their ranks. It would take a very strong leader to hold this group together long enough to get the mission underway. F'chak'tor smiled to himself. In a word, they were perfect.

It had been a day since the cambion warrior had taken control of that small piece of the Three Glooms and that portal to the Hive. He had taken the field and the portal not because his Tanar'ri masters had told him to - although that was why he had started the fight - but because he knew that if he could control the Slag Caches, he would be able to do what he wanted. And that is also why he accepted the deal of the unseen being in the Maze. Not because he trusted it, or thought that it had a good idea, but simply because he could use it to get what he wanted: jink, power, and glory. So, he had listened to its plans, taken its money, and come to Plague-mort to assemble a legion with which to lay waste to the Hive Ward of Sigil.

At least, that was what it wanted him to do. F'chak'tor had other ideas, of course. Certainly, he and his troops wouldn't mind causing a little damage to the Cage, but he was not going to be trapped by following another's plans. Not him. He would go along with the plan long enough to actually get his troops through the Mazes which the mysterious being claimed to control and into Sigil, but that was it. Once through, he would take his legion straight to the supply depot and Slag Cache that he had been sent to capture in the first place. And he would capture it - for himself. The cambion grinned again, and addressed his unsuspecting benefactor - who he knew couldn't hear him.

"And once I get what I want, to the depths of the Abyss with what you want! I might just see who's willing to pay to learn about your plans. If you fail, the portals return to normal, and I can leave unhindered. Actually, much the same as if you win. We'll see how things fall, especially your head."

Satisfied that his troops were ready, the cambion general stopped his review and addressed the mob. His voice booming out over the ranks, he called them to battle.

"All right, berks! Shut yer bone-boxes! The time has come. Sigil has stood untarnished for far too long. It's time to put a few bruises on the Lady's face. Follow me, and let no one stand in your way!"

A mighty roar went up from the assembled cutthroats. As one, as only a bloodthirsty mob can be, the makeshift legion charged from the plain outside of Plague-mort into the gatetown, headed for the portal to Sigil. Blood would flow in the streets of the Hive today.

The Mazes
Early Morning, Day Two
**[by Ken Lipka]**

##Sleep done. Hurt still. Find food.##

Even these simple concepts were a task for the dim creature in who's mind they formed. It pushed itself upright from the pile of rubble it had hid behind to rest. It began to move clumsily forward on its three legs; it's already awkward gait made more so by the wounds it still possessed. Moving through the rough- hewn passages of the Maze, it scented the air, looking for something to satisfy its hunger. The scent of day-old blood caught its attention, and it ran towards the source.

It found the decaying remains of a four-legged animal. Something in the depths of its poor memory told it that this is what caused the hurt that it felt. Not caring about the past, the creature indulged the present. Using three of it's arms, the creature picked up pieces of the corpse - a hoofed leg, part of the rump with tail still attached - and began tearing pieces of the dead flesh off the bits and eating them. It was not fresh, but it would dull the hunger.

As it ate, it scented something else. Something newer than the corpse, something smaller, something. alive. The poor memory told the creature of the small being that created the animal which gave it the hurt it still felt. It remember that the small one smelled appetizing. Yes, that is what it needed.

##Find small. Kill. Eat. Then hurt gone.##

The dergholoth began to move once again, tracking the trail of the halfling which eluded it a day ago.

The Skinned Razor, at Tanner's Lane and Wasted Day's Alley, Sigil
Early Morning, Day Two
**[by Ken Lipka]**

Nick Tanner stepped out from his little shop and snatched a quick breath from Sigil's turgid skies. It stung only a little bit, and the flavor of rust outweighed the taste of corruption. He pulled the tarps off his shop to shake the cinders and soot off them, and he got his little leather tanning stall ready for the day's custom. Nick picked up a push broom, and nudged the junk and garbage around his side of the street over to the tiny little Limbo portal on the far side of the shop adjoining his own. It was just another day in the Lower Ward.

Or so he wished. As much as he tried, the old routine couldn't comfort him. Things were very different, and Nick was scared. The portals didn't work, many had fled the Cage to powers-know-where, and fighting could still be heard throughout the City of Doors. While this part of the Lower Ward is normally sparsely trafficked, today it was deserted. None of the usual customers walked by; most of his neighbors had left. Certainly, this was a good thing as it allowed Nick to take possession of Mort's chickens. At least he would have food for a time. As he piled the day's trash next the mound from yesterday, Nick gingerly rubbed his ribs. They still hurt from when those Hardheads scragged him for trying to break into the Provisioner's Warehouse. The rogue petitioner shook his head and sighed as went back into his shop and reflected on what he had seen since yesterday.

Nick tried to remember when he first knew the Powers were taking their revenge on him and Sigil. Sure, the signs where there when he got knocked down by the dabus and the trash portal didn't work. But he didn't really get a clue until he tried to buy lunch in the Great Bazaar. The riots there told all he needed to know that his afterlife was in jeopardy. Seeing the reactions of the people there confirmed everything his subconscious had been trying to tell him all yesterday morning. And things had only gone downhill from there.

He had got something of a breather from the chaos after he managed to get through the Harmonic Arch and into the Lady's Ward. The streets here were totally empty, as those who lived here had wisely barricaded themselves inside their mansions. However, the dubiously-comforting presence of the Harmonium was also missing from the streets; Nick had expected them to be out in force to keep the city's riches safe. But then, he remember what the faction claimed to stand for - peace and harmony. And he guessed that they were out in force, just everywhere else, trying to calm the riots. He had then thanked his karma and quickly moved through the echoing streets towards the Warehouse.

When he arrived, he saw it was unguarded. "Perhaps Fate is finally smiling on ol' Nick," he thought to himself. He was so relieved to have made it there unharmed that he let his reason get away from him so that he didn't stop to think about what it meant that the door into the building was not only unlocked, but already standing ajar. The cold reality of the situation hit him hard - literally - once he stepped inside the dark building. Nick found himself knocked down by a heavy blow to the ribs, and then held on the floor by a hob- nailed boot on his neck.

"Looks like we got us another one, Measure Three, sir." Nick peered up from the floor through the haze of his pain. He found himself surrounded by at least four men wearing the scarlet scale mail of the Harmonium. The one who's boot was digging into his flesh had spoken to the largest of the squad. The leader looked down at the petitioner with primarily contempt and exhaustion. "Pick him up, Notary." The Hardhead namer followed orders and roughly hauled Nick to his feet. "You are hereby arrested by the Harmonium on the charges of breaking and entering a government building. Given the state of affairs in the City of Doors, you are also arrested on the charges of attempted theft, inciting a revolt, and suspected conspiracy. As you have been caught in the act, I think that it's fairly obvious admission of guilt. What say you, Bruxanna?"

Nick had been about to protest (however feebly) the charges, but his throat dried in fear and his voice died. Stepping out of the deeper shadows of the room came a large, heavily muscled orc wearing dark crimson, spiked plate mail. His worst fears, born by the color and cut of the armor, were confirmed when he spied the symbol of a fanged worm worked into the breast plate. The orc was a Mercykiller. It spoke in a deep, guttural voice. A small part of Nick's mind found time to be surprised that the orc was female. "As a Justicar of the faction of the Red Death, I agree that the berk is guilty as charged. Given the current crisis, sentence is to be carried out immediately. For these charges, I sentence the criminal to death."

Nick tried to protest, but only could only shake his head in a frantic "no". He couldn't run, as he was held by two of the Harmonium namers. The orc was obvious to his struggles as she readied a Tanar'ri Red battle axe. He was sorely afraid. He didn't want to die - again, for the final time - like this. He closed his eyes and prayed to whatever powers he could think of for some miracle. Even an appearance by the Lady would be welcome at this point. He heard the Mercykiller inhale and pull back for the swing. He tensed for the blow...

...which fortunately for him never came. Just as the orc was about to split his head from crown to neck, Nick's prayed for salvation came in the form of a flask of flaming oil thrown through the open door. The shattering glass and the wash of flames stayed the expected death blow and caused him to be dropped as the factioneers of Law pulled back involuntarily from the heat. Outside, a great cry went up from a score of throats. A single voice rose above the rest; a woman's, filled with insane glee.

"It is as Pentar has promised! Entropy has come to Sigil and we must help it to its glorious end! Forward, Doomguard, and sack the Warehouse!"

The Doomguard! Nick Tanner was never so glad to see one of their "Entropy Raid" as he was right now. His would-be captors pulled weapons and ran out of the building to meet the attack and defend city property. Nick once again found the better part of valor and fled out another door as the flames grew higher and the Doomguard cut down the small squad of Harmonium and their Mercykiller ally.

He spent the rest of the day running and hiding, trying to make it back to his kip in the Lower Ward. While he didn't fully understand it, he managed to get a good picture of what was going on in the city. It had most definitely become a battleground. While most of the ordinary citizens either cowered in their kips or had left, the fiends and the factions had stayed behind and were attempting to take over. The Lawful factions of the Harmonium, Mercykillers, and Guvners had joined forces with the Signers and were forcibly trying to restore order to Sigil. Naturally, their efforts were being countered by the Chaotic factions - The Doomguard, The Xaositects, The Anarchists - and their sudden allies in the Athar. The Ciphers, the Godsmen, and the Indeps seemed to be trying to get people to stop the violence on their own. Naturally, they weren't having any luck. The Fated were out taking advantage of the situation, while the Sensates, the Dustmen, and the Bleakers simply sat back and watched, enjoying the show. And into this philosophical whirlpool, you also had the destabilizing efforts of various bands of fiends, celestials, and even the occasional modron. It was most definitely the worst day in his afterlife.

Nick broke out of his depressing reverie and went back inside his small shop. If the Cage was to go down in the flames of war, as the smoke rising from the Hive ward seemed to suggest, Nick Tanner would at least die fighting for his adopted home. He sat down, and began to sharpen his skinning knives. A small weapon, and a small chance, is better than none at all.

A Bedroom somewhere in the Civic Festhall, Sigil
Mid-Morning, Day Two
**[by Lars H Löher]**

With a start Bliss awakened and his sightless eyes opened and looked into still dark surroundings. Was it always like that or made the war seem Sigil an even greyer and more depressive place, than it usually was? Fires where burning in somewhere, most likely in the hive, judging from the direction of the thickest oily smoke. The City of Doors had never been a particularly nice place, but on this day it seemed particularly sinister. Something was horribly wrong here, and his sensitive mental awareness picked up an array of discordances, that were a lot worse than a general street riot, and his awakening seemed to have been caused by the aftershock of something particularly violent, or an especially merciless mental attack.

The mind flayer's tentacles writhed nervously, as he remembered, what he wished to be a nightmare. A short time after he had started to rest, he could feel a strange and disturbing presence, that had done something to one of his companions. They wouldn't believe him, of course, and they already had enough troubles without the talk of a seemingly paranoid illithid. Had he just stayed awake and only seemed asleep to watch, but it was too late for that now. In addition he needed the rest. His mind still felt empty, almost naked, so he couldn't have slept long enough to regain the mental power he would need for whatever fate had in mind for him, when the mismatched companions awakened. Maybe Cray would even explain what was going on...

It seemed that tests where piling upon each other a little too fast lately, but then again maybe it was just another test, so that he might shed the shell of a mind flayer and become something more generally accepted...

With a writhing of tentacles, he thought about his sudden awaking, when he had felt the strange psychic impression. He had almost shouted, except that he didn't have a voice, and he was mentally too weak to broadcast anything even resembling a shout. He didn't waken his companions, as their peaceful snoring had assured him, and all of them needed rest. It seemed that he needed even more, after this period of particularly bad sleep. He looked out over the bleak cityscape of Sigil once again and turned to sit on his bed in an odd version of a Lotus, that matched his strange physiognomy.

A translucent layer of skin closed over his completely white eyes and another one that was the same mauve colour as his skin followed. He cleared his mind of everything that was troubling it and locked out the surroundings, as he had learned some time ago. As a renegade, he didn't have the comfort and wisdom of an elder brain to guide him and even give him power, when he badly needed it. With a last sigh of longing and regret, he fell into a deep meditative trance, that was more restful than sleep. He needed his mental power.

Without it he was nothing.

Hive Ward, Sigil
Mid-Morning, Day Two
**[by Lars H Löher]**

Crackling flames threw deep shadows dancing everywhere like ghosts dancing an eerie dance, that might drive fear into the hearts of even the boldest. Unfortunately for those, who had caused this, there was no-one to watch the show. Almost no-one that is. Wherever there are shadows, there are those, who hide within these. The one walking these shadows was fearsome, for she didn't need many shadows to hide, even bright daylight in the Lady's ward offered sufficient shadow for her to stay completely out of sight.

Everyone had a healthy respect of those, who walk the shadows, especially those who did it without their steps making a whisper of sound. Not that it really mattered with the crackling of the flames everywhere and the prevalent sound of the jumbled buildings tumbling over each other, stone bursting from the almost elemental heat in some places and things generally crashing down in the fiends' wake, only the Doomguard being suspiciously absent from this scene of destruction...

With disgust the watcher in the shadows regarded the result of the mindless carnage. She had been surprised, when the fiends had popped out of a gate, since gates supposedly malfunctioned all over the Cage. The horde of cut-throats and tanar'ri emerging where even less pleasant, and instantly did what abyssal types seemed to love most. They charged into the next mass of living beings and started to hack everything to pieces. Jimora had quickly taken to backstab at least all those who where human and disappear again, before their attention turned to her, or even the spot where someone had fallen, because she stabbed him. It had been just after anti-peak.

Then a contingent of baatezu, who had been trapped in the city, when the portals ceased to function not much more than full day ago - it seemed a far longer time to her - had assaulted the tanar'ri. More tanar'ri and other abyssal types had flocked to the invading horde. More baatezu had come to reinforce those already in the battle. It didn't seem an unusual clash, except that this was Sigil. Jimora had chosen to stay away from the battle, since she expected the shadow of a certain bladed head to appear and clean up things anytime soon, but the Lady of Pain didn't appear, which made the assassin wonder...

A combined force of Harmonium and Mercykillers entered the fray to stop the fighting after several negotiation attempts by Signers and another from an Indep failed. They had just been ripped to pieces and the fighting went on. When the lawful factions finally appeared, the whole thing turned into the completely chaotic bloody mess, that battles always seemed to become. Jimora thought better of it and stayed out of the whole thing. The scream of steel hitting steel mingling with the battle screams of the combatants and the agonised screams of the mortally wounded left to die a slow and painful death filled the air. Nine stinking pits of Baator, and she had always thought her trade was bad...

When the clash of arms finally subsided, a good section of the hive was burning and most of the combatants where dead, except for a fraction of the group of tanar'ri, that had originally invaded through the gate. Most of them where the medium power types, that drove the lesser minions into battle to avoid getting whipped by those more powerful. Being tanar'ri, they usually got whipped anyway. If there wasn't already enough trouble without these fiends around, Jimora thought with a hint of disgust. How many fiends where left in the City of Doors after this clash was anyone's guess, but those where particularly ruthless, never having lived under the Lady's slicing shadow.

When these where allowed to continue rampaging, many innocent folk would suffer and die. If she didn't do anything about it, the wrong people would suffer as a result. Focusing on those and similar thoughts, Jimora ceased being just someone hiding in the shadows. She became one of these shadows and the fiends where dead before they ever knew what hit them. She should have done this all along, but she wasn't particularly fond of getting sliced up by the Lady, and she had should have appeared to stop this mayhem. Now it was finally obvious to her that something was very much, well, wrong around here...

Unfortunately the Cambion, who had led the force was missing, and Jimora wondered, how she was going to track down someone without knowing the name or even the face, and decided that she wouldn't. There was so much chaos, mayhem and evil unleashed that she could do more good elsewhere. With a sigh she walked down the streets of the hive to reach the clerks ward and find herself some good food and reasonable drink to swallow down the soot and bile that had been building up in her throat during the battle. She wondered, what was going on here...

"It's chaos, it's malicious, it's damn cool", a sinister sounding voice replied. Jimora looked up, only now realising she had spoken her thoughts aloud. The large bat-winged creature surrounded by flames looked at her beautiful form with more appreciation than she liked. Her grey eyes narrowed a little and the auburn hair danced slightly in the hot abyssal wind caused by the blistering heat the fiend radiated. Her perfectly shaped body covered in a tight sitting suit the colour of night shivered once and the fiend smiled wickedly. "Who asked you?", she said calmly.

Then she was suddenly gone. The balor looked at the place, where she had just been and whipped at a beggar who was unfortunate enough to lie nearby. As the fiend ripped an arm from the man, who was paralysed with terror, not even able to scream, the tanar'ri looked into the shadows. Of course she was nowhere to be seen. With regret he thought that he'd really liked to...

Another Room Somewhere in the Civic Festhall, Sigil
Mid-Morning, Day Two
**[by Lars H Löher]**

Looking out of an window surveying city, factol Erin Montgomery was really worried now. A short time after the odd group had warned her, the fighting had begun. The meeting in the Hall of Speakers had been a complete disaster. The factions either wanted to take advantage of the situation or where as clueless as herself about what was really going on, and as Darius of the signers had pointed out, fighting the symptoms might keep the population somewhat calmer, but wouldn't do anything to solve the problem. The only thing that they managed was a decree that everyone was supposed to stay calm and go about their business as usual, as far as this was possible.

Sure, the decree of the Society of Sensation was to experience everything possible, but this went definitely too far. If you wanted fiends fighting, go to the Blood War. If you wanted to be really caged, get yourself scragged for a minor sleight and stay in prison for a few days, or go to Carceri if you feel suicidal. Now there was all of this everywhere in Sigil. At least the celestials were still busy watching and thinking before they acted. No, Erin decided, there was something that had to be done. Problem was, she didn't have the slightest idea what that might be.

"Why are you worrying yourself to death this time?", a familiar voice asked. "I always thought you had more than your share of that sensation." The almost inhumanly beautiful female turned around and said: "You are right about it, but we are locked from everything and it is getting ever more violent." The other female added: "You don't have the slightest idea, what is behind this, right?" The factol nodded and looked at the diminutive warrior. She seemed to be a small elf, but actually she was a kender, but a rather unusual one, as everyone having seen her in battle would testify.

In addition she had the self-discipline and -control to wield fearsome mental powers, that gave even illithid elder brains a serious pause. Erin looked at her and said: "I guess you are stuck with us here and know why they call it The Cage. Any ideas?" The kender said: "Actually I am only projecting myself here, something that should not be possible. I expected to end up in the Outlands and had to use a gate, but when I opened my eyes, I was right here, in the city. So I figured that something is badly out of sync here." Erin sighed deeply and asked: "Why don't you tell me something I don't know?"

The Kender nodded, her expression even more serious than usual, which would be considered a constant expression of bad mood by other kender. "The first thing I noticed when I entered this place, was that it is brimming with psychic energy surges. There is some large scale force using psionics to take control of key whisperers. You see, factols and other obvious movers are to obvious, but those behind the thrones make good targets, so better try out what paranoia feels like until this is over." The kender shook her head sadly and said: "You remember the hive theory I told you about?"

Erin nodded, the porcelain skin of her face even whiter than it already was. The other female said: "I fear that someone is trying to take mental control of the hive queen in an concerted and orchestrated effort. Energy is building up like crazy, and I guess weird things happening and the Lady behaving strangely is just her fighting it. I will return if you find any proof that I might be right." The factol asked: "Even trying to talk to her is fatal, how are they supposed to control her?"

"Obviously they have enough resources to waste a good many of them on figuring out the pattern of her mind. Since she isn't tanar'ri they will do so in finite time." Erin asked: "What happens then?" The kender said matter-of-factly: "Sigil is theirs and that's bad news for everyone. I have to go now. There are other matters requiring my attention." The factol asked: "How will I contact you?" The kender was already dissolving, seemingly merging with the walls of the room, but the female knew that she wasn't addressing empty air.

I will find you, if you need my help, was the last thing Erin heard, before the psionicist was gone...

The Mazes
Mid-Morning, Day Two
**[by Matt Oostman]**

"Call it."

"Heads. No, wait. Tails."

G'kar caught the coin.

"What is it?" asked Tandin.

"I can't tell, it's too dark."

Kerjal was beginning to get impatient. "Will one of you just go?" It had been nearly an hour since he felt the fabric of the maze bend. The mage had quickly deduced that a portal had been opened. Half an hour later Kerjal's ferret familiar had picked up the scent of a tanar'ri. Apparently there had been several more before, but only the one now.

"Why don't you go first?" the halfling argued.

"Why me?" protested G'kar.

"'Cause you're bigger."

"Then you go."

"Me? Why?"

"'Cause I'm bigger."

"Hurry up, it's getting closer. If we're going to take advantage of surprising it we have to do it now." Kerjal's efforts to get them around the corner, in the dark, in a maze, into the face of gods-know-what kind of tanar'ri, weren't doing him any good.

"Fine. We'll go at the same time. Ready G'kar?"

"Right."

"One, two, three." Tandin stepped back, G'kar stepped around the corner, and Kerjal shoved Tandin.

"I thought you'd pull something like that," the mage sneered. Not fifty feet in front of them was one of the vilest tanar'ri any of them had seen. It was big, red scaled, had claws the size of it's legs, but otherwise wasn't armed.

"That is one ugly bugger," G'kar paused. "I can take 'im."

"So could I if I wanted to, especially with a sword like-" Tandin was cut short as the fiend let out a blood curdling howl. It's call was followed closely by the sound of G'kar's battle cry as he rushed right into it, sword braced for a charge. Kerjal braced himself for the eerie sound of G'kar's bone sword digging into flesh, but it never came. What happened next no one expected. Just as G'kar was about to land his blow, the tanar'ri caught him in it's claws and flung him hurling back into Tandin. The fiend started to move forward as soon as it was sure the slam into the wall was enough to knock the warrior out cold.

"Get this guy off me!" Tandin hollered in frustration as he struggled to move from beneath the hulk.

"I don't think I'm gonna get the chance-" the mage stressed as he finished a spell just in time to avoid the gaping maw of the onrushing monster. Kerjal landed from his jump behind the creature with barely enough room to turn around and crack it in the skull with his staff. "This isn't going to work!" the mage yelled as he avoided the tanar'ri's next blow. Then an idea struck him. "In his belt pouch there's some Mist of Myrol!"

"Some what?"

"It's a blue vial, just spill it on his face," the mage had been too busy avoiding injury to worry about another spell and was getting tired of playing defense. Tandin began so rummage through the many pockets on G'kar's belt and let out a sigh as he found the vial. Not wanting to use too much, yet not too little either, Tandin emptied the thing over the oaf's face. Suddenly G'kar's eye's flew open. He grabbed his face and let out a scream worse then that of the tanar'ri's.

"WHAAAAAAOI!" He shook off the pain. "What's happening?"

Tandin pointed at the tanar'ri.

"Oh, right." He grabbed his sword. "Now you've made me mad." Once again he charged the beast and once again it threw him back, this time with Kerjal close behind.

"That's it. You," Kerjal pointed, "are goin' down. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

G'kar grinned evilly, "I am now. Tandin, occupy that for a moment."

"What? Me? But I," Tandin stuttered. His protests weren't going to get him anywhere, they two friends were already in deep concentration. He then though that this would be the perfect time to prove he wasn't all talk like so many people believed. From under his cloak he drew his other dagger. It flashed silver for a moment just before he chucked it into the back of the fiend before him. The blade went in one side of the creature and clean through to the other. The tanar'ri cried out in pain as it ripped the hilt out of it's chest flipped around to face the halfling. Tandin's eyes grew wide.

"It's still alive. That's bad."

The thing went to attack and stopped short, almost appearing to chuckle. It put it's hand to the ground as there seemed to be a minor tremble. From the earth below him, sets of skeletal hands started to pull themselves up. From nowhere he was surrounded by undead warriors. Just as all seemed lost to Tandin the pair finished their enchantment and shouted in unison the last word of the spell.

"ANTIPODE!"

Two spears flew into the fiend, one enchanted with ice, one with fire. The beast chuckled again at the idea that a pair of spears might hurt him, but the spell wasn't done. It went to pull one of them out when the surge released by the opposing elemental forces hit. In a brilliant flash the tanar'ri detonated, covering the group with wicked-smelling slime.

"Little help!" Tandin called, still surrounded by the skeletons.

"Oh, there are only half a dozen of them," Kerjal insisted. "Oh, all right."

Tandin had destroyed two already and the mage dispatched the next three with a flask of holy water. There was no sign of the sixth.

"Where's the other?" Tandin asked.

"Maybe you miscounted," injected G'kar.

"Maybe." Tandin picked up his dagger and wiped it off. "We sure beat them into the ground, or, all over it."

"We?" asked G'kar, "You didn't help much at all."

"WHAT?!?!? Didn't you see what I did? With the dagger?!?"

"I'm afraid not Tandin, the spell we cast is incredibly complex. Neither of us saw a thing," Kerjal explained.

"But, but, I nearly killed the thing, and you didn't see it?"

"Sure you did," G'kar sneered.

"I believe you," the tiefling said. He wasn't sure if he did, but he could feel the magic radiate off the dagger.

"Kerjal, come look at this!" G'kar called from the remains of the tanar'ri.

"What is it?"

"Look."

The mage bent down, scraped in the muck for a moment, and stood up grinning.

"What is it?" Tandin inquired.

The mage held out his hand. Burnt and dripping in slime was a thin spool of fine silver wire.

"So tell me again why we're still here?"

"Look Tandin, I need to concentrate on this spell, G'kar, you explain."

"We've got to find a weak spot."

"But he said we had plenty of wire, why can't we just burst through where ever we want?"

"It's a portal thing." G'kar wasn't quite sure himself. He whispered to Kerjal, "Hey, why can't we?"

"Because I'm trying to put us in Sigil, not back where we started."

"Oh, right." G'kar paused. Tandin stopped short and ran into him.

"Move it!" Tandin commanded as he pulled himself out of G'kar's cloak.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what? Let's go."

"It sounded like a sword being drawn."

"You're being paranoid."

"WRONG! Look, down that passage, it's that other skeleton. Let's go take care of it."

"Should we tell Kerjal?" Tandin asked. He wasn't even sure the mage realized he was in a maze still, he was so into his work.

"Naah, we'll only be gone for a minute. Besides, it's coming this way, he'll probably see it when we get to it."

Tandin drew his dagger. G'kar drew his sword. Both weapons lit up, wrapped in magic. The sword the half-elf wielded ignited in white flame once more. This time there was something different. Normally the glow reflected off the walls and illuminated the area, but it stayed as dark as it was.

Kerjal looked behind him, "Hey guys, I, where'd you go?" He saw the light from G'kar's sword and followed it around the corner. "Guy's, hurry this up, I think I know where the exit is."

G'kar didn't hear him. All G'kar heard was the crackling flames on his sword. All he saw was the skeleton coming at him. He was no longer in the mazes, he was standing in one of the guest bedrooms in Castle Nazar. His sword no longer was sheathed in white flame, but in black. He looked into his opponent's eyes, "Seromanith, your time is now."

"Seromanith? G'kar, are you all right? G'kar?" Tandin was confused. He turned to see Kerjal walk up behind him. "Hey, what's with him?"

"I think he's having another flashback, this one looks bad."

"Flashback? To what?"

"The night he defeated the Undead Knight that wielded his sword before him. He purified the blade but the nature of the thing itself is cursed." The skeleton took a swing at him and missed. G'kar grabbed his chest and fell to his knees. The thing swung again and caught him across a scar on his face. The warrior stood upright as his boot met the ribcage of his unliving oppressor. G'kar let out the same call as he had three years ago. "Now I will be your fate!" The warrior, standing with his sword held high above his head, called up to the Gods "FOR ENTROPY!" With all his strength he brought his mighty blade down upon the skeleton. Tandin let out a yelp as chunks of bone flew through the air and bit into his flesh, the blow had left not a piece unfractured. Kerjal covered his face with his hood and ran after G'kar who had collapsed in a heap.

"G'kar, are you all right?"

G'kar looked up groggily and suddenly pointed at Tandin. "Look! He's taken another form!"

Tandin backed up, "What? Who? Uh-oh."

G'kar got up again and grabbed his sword of the floor. "This time I will be sure you're gone."

The mage grabbed his shoulder. He jumped and whipped around, just now seeing Kerjal. "Kerjal! Quickly, get DeLocar! We don't know how many of his minions he can summon this time!"

The figure before him shook him violently and shouted into his face, "Locar is DEAD!"

"NO! He's here! Get him and his guard!"

The mage threw open his robes and ripped off his shirt, exposing a huge circular scar on his chest. "LOOK! Duramas killed him AND Slice! He put his claw right through me! REMEMBER damn you, THINK! " G'kar started to get dizzy as his memory rushed back. The underdark temple. The lair full of shadows. The dragon, their arch-nemesis Duramas. The battle. Lord Locar on his horse, charging after it. Slice the weretiger and her cats leaping onto it's back. Leon the priest dispelling it's ghoulish guards. Kerjal and himself launching every spell they had into the fray. He was the only one left standing. He revived Leon and they healed Kerjal, but the others were to far gone. G'kar passed out.

Heart of a Dragon Inn
Guildhall Ward, Sigil
Late Morning, Day Two
**[by Matt Oostman]**

"NOOOOO!!!"

G'kar suddenly woke up screaming. He blinked and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying to figure out where he was. He looked around. He was lying on a rug in front of an unlit fireplace, there were tables strewn about the room. He stood up and looked for his sword. The sound of crunching glass came from beneath his feet. Stumbling over a the pieces chair, he came face to face with some dead bubber. He heard footsteps above him. There was light coming from a stairwell in the far side of the room. He didn't move.

"G'kar, that had better be you," Kerjal's voice came from the stairs.

He remained silent for a moment and spoke, "It is, where are we?"

"We're in the Dragon."

"Your place in Sigil?"

"Yes, when we got here the place was trashed."

"How'd we get here? Who trashed it? Where was that guy you hired to watch the place? Where's Tandin?"

"I got a portal to work, we came in near Chirper's and walked here. There was no one out. Not even a sound. The Hive burns again. You've heard what happened to the Slaggs? This looks as bad, or worse." Kerjal waited for his words to sink in and continued, "I'm not sure what happened here, but it looks like everyone left in a hurry. The guy I had watching the place?"

"Yeah?"

"You're lying next to him."

G'kar looked closer at the body near him. It appeared like it had been trampled.

"Tandin is upstairs asleep. We couldn't get you up the stairs so we cleared a spot and left you here. Your sword and scabbard are behind the bar."

The warrior got off the floor and grabbed his scimitar.

"It's only been a couple hours since you passed out. I suggest you come upstairs and get some sleep with the rest of us. I've got a Magic Mouth on the door, and Alarm on the stairway. We should be safe."

"Right." The half-elf followed his friend up the stairs, found the cleanest, most intact room he could, and went to sleep.

Heart of a Dragon Inn
Guildhall Ward, Sigil
Peak, Day Two
**[by Matt Oostman]**

Tandin slinked down the stairs, holding his stomach. Seeing Kerjal and G'kar already on the ground floor, he muttered to them, "I don't feel so good."

"I told you you shouldn't've eaten more dergholoth then you could handle. I don't like it either, that's why I didn't stuff myself on it."

"What dergholoth?" G'kar asked.

"Well, I thought it was a dergholoth. It only had three legs. We could have used you, I used up all the spells I knew. If we would have run anything else we might have been killed. My staff was even running low." The mage ducked behind the bar and handed Tandin a glass of juice. He sniffed the air and went into the kitchen, bringing with him a large plate of eggs. "This is all I could make with the food left over. There are two kinds of eggs, but I'm not sure exactly what they are. Anyways, we need to find out what's with the city."

"Right. Maybe we should visit Leon."

They both shuddered as G'kar spoke the name.

"Wait, is that the same Leon that he was yelling about when he went out?"

"Yes, Tandin. We haven't seen him in a few months, I hope he's still-." G'kar cut him off, "He's not getting better, but he hasn't been that bad in a while."

After finishing the makeshift meal, they set off into the streets of Sigil. The air seemed tenser then usual. They all looked up, across the city they saw huge plumes of smoke rising, covering the entire Hive Ward.

"That can't be good, not at all."

"Yes Tandin, that is very bad indeed."

"I don't think so, it had to happen sooner or later. I'm glad I'm here to see it. I wonder what my fellows are doing about it."

"Probably helping it along."

"You mean the Doomguard?" Tandin asked.

"Yes Tandin, he's a Doomguard. I'm not sure how committed he is though." Kerjal mumbled the last part.

"What was that? Hey, I'm very committed. They took the time to further my sword training, I think they knew what they were doing. I don't see you rushing off into the Hive to experience the mayhem."

"Watch it. I just spent two days in a maze I didn't belong in. I think I've experienced enough mayhem. Besides, Sensates don't rush into everything, especially not foolhardily. I have a feeling we'll be going down there soon enough, especially if Leon moved."

"I don't think he'll be doing much moving."

"Where in Sigil are we going exactly?" Tandin decided he'd better change the subject before they completely forgot he was there.

"Hmm? Oh, into the Clerk's Ward." Kerjal pointed up the street. "If I remember, we'll get there if we follow this road. It's an old building, I mean, considering the city we're in."

The trio continued to walk for nearly half an hour, undisturbed by the few people they saw. Anyone that was left looked either like a fearless adventurer type or a scared rabbit. There were plenty more of the latter. The farther into the Clerk's Ward they got, the more the place looked like the Hive. They finally stopped in front of an old, razorvine covered building.

"Is this it?" Tandin blurted.

"Yes, this is it." Kerjal knocked on the door. No response. He knocked again.

"Maybe he's not here," G'kar thought aloud.

"No, he's here. Let's go in." The mage turned the knob slowly as the door let out a dull creaking noise. Light rushed into the little place, but it did little good to fill the darkness. The air from inside the house seeped out slowly as the door swung open, it felt colder then it was outside. They stepped in.

"It's like antipeak in here," the halfling protested.

"Leon doesn't need any light," Kerjal said.

"Who is this Leon, some blind berk?"

"Yes, but I can hear you fine." The voice came from nowhere, as if from one of the shadows. Startled, the trio took a sudden step back.

"Leon?" the mage lit up the room with a blast of light from his staff. "It's good to see you."

"I'd say the same, if I could." The weathered old priest stood up and felt around for his staff. "Who's that with you? It doesn't sound like G'kar, and he's too short."

"Hello Leon, I'm here also," the warrior spoke up. "The guy with us is Tandin, and you're right, he's a halfling."

"Wait a minute, how'd you know I was smaller then them? I thought you were blind. Hey Kerjal, you sure this guy is legit?"

"Show some respect, you." Leon pointed his staff at him.

"Oh, what are ya gonna do? Wheeze on me?" Tandin suddenly found himself pinned to the ceiling. "What the?"

"Oh, I neglected to mention that he wields simple spells like G'kar does his sword. And just like a guy with a sword, he gets respect." Kerjal grinned at Tandin. "This isn't the priest to mess with, and he's not that old."

"Not that old? That graybeard looks older then my great-grandmother!" Tandin was starting to get dizzy. "Now will you please let me down?" "Very well," Leon sighed, releasing the spell. Tandin fell to the floor. "And I'm thirty-one. But I know you're not here just to say hello. What do you know?"

"We're going to ask you the same thing. We've been mazed for the last couple days." The mage was glad to change the subject.

"In a maze? How'd you get out? What did you do?"

"I found something in the maze, a maze key. We didn't do anything. We'll tell you about it later, but that's not pertinent, we need to know what you know."

"A maze key.." Leon sighed, knowing that Kerjal was right before he said anything. "If you didn't do anything, it would fit what I've heard. Rumor has it the Lady's gone insane. She's floated through parts of the city, killing everything in her path. She probably mazed you due to her delirium."

"I would accept that except one thing; we weren't in Sigil when it happened. I found that something stopped the portal and dropped us in the Astral." Kerjal was pleased with his reasoning and smiled.

"The Astral? That can't be right." Leon's contradiction changed the mage's smile quickly into look of confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"The mazes are thought to be like mini demi-planes, extra-dimensional spaces, right?" He paused and the mage nodded. "Well, we know that extra-dimensional spaces exist on the Ethereal. Therefore, it couldn't've been a maze."

Tandin piped up, "Well, it looked like a maze, maybe an old one."

"How do you know what a maze looks like? Have you ever been in one? Do you know anyone that has?" Leon waited and watched a blank expression creep over the halfling's face. "I didn't think so."

"All right," the mage started, "so we weren't in a maze, so we were stopped in transit by something else."

"Yes. That's the other thing I hear. The portals have stopped working. There were very few left when the Lady supposedly snapped, so most people that could, left."

"Why didn't you go?" Kerjal wondered, but only as long as it took him to ask until he realized the answer.

"You know as well as I do that I didn't acquire all this wisdom by running from information. Besides, my portal has shut down. So have both of the one's to your houses. I've checked them all. Even the one to the castle."

There was a long pause after the last sentence. No one spoke until Tandin coughed.

"Anyways, a small army of fiends came through a portal and really messed up the Hive, I mean, more then usual. I don't know much else. If there's anything else you need to know, I'll be here."

"Thank you, let's go guys."

Tandin let out a sigh of relief. G'kar stood up and nodded, "Later Leon." Kerjal led the trio out and closed the door, plunging the place into darkness once more.

"We should head to 'Jertha's Jewelry'," Kerjal decided.

"But Leon said the portals are down, he even checked them," protested the warrior.

"We're not going to your house. Remember the box you stashed in front of the portal 'just in case'?"

"Oh, yeah. So?"

"Remember what was in it?"

"Some money, a couple of knives, a healing potion, and a small shield. And a long sword."

"And?" insinuated the mage.

Finally it hit him as he let it out in a gasp, "Our chest of war spells."

"I thought you kept spells in a book. Like, written down?"

"Not these, Tandin. We made these during the invasion of Castle Nazar. No waiting, no concentration. Just magic. Let's go."

"Wait a minute," G'kar stopped him, "we'll have to go around. Remember the invasion force?"

"No, that'll take all day."

"It's a clear day and there's no one on the streets."

"True, but we'll have to go through the Lady's Ward. I think we're better off in the Hive with a couple Tanar'ri then walking into a nest of paranoid nobles and their guards. Besides, I know you want to see the destruction, I'm curious myself."

G'kar agreed with his friend and they started walking just as Tandin brought up another alternative. "I don't think this is a very good idea. We're heading right into the fray. All you faction types may think you have it all figured out, but I'm not the guy to talk to about experiencing a tanar'ri death sword and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't see any reason to risk our lives to get these spell things anyways."

"Come on Tandin, we don't have a lot of time."

"Quiet, Doomboy. I'm not going."

G'kar shoved Tandin to the ground, "Let's leave this worm, Kerjal."

The mage looked between the two of them and finally said, "You sure, Tandin?"

The halfling dusted himself off. "Very. I can handle myself fine, without risking my life for no good reason."

"Very well." The mage turned and left to meet up with his friend who had already started to walk away.

They had only been walking for about ten minutes and were barely into the Hive when Tandin's voice came from one of the nearby sidestreets. Kerjal stopped to listen, only to be pulled along by G'kar. "Don't wait for him, he made his choice."

"I know, but that didn't sound like a halfling on a leisurely stroll. I think something's wrong." Kerjal took a step back to look down the ally, just as Tandin bolted out of the shadows.

"Help!"

"I thought you could take care of yourself," G'kar mocked.

"I can, I just can't take care of me and them!"

The mage started backing up slowly and waving away behind his back.

"What is it Kerjal?"

"Run," the tiefling said plainly.

"From what? I don't see-"

"Run!" he exclaimed as he turned to sprint down the street.

"Huh?" G'kar peered down the ally to see a whole herd of fiends bearing down on them. He decided to take Kerjal's advice. Bolting down the street, the halfling, the tiefling, and the half-elf took a sharp turn in hopes of evading the hoard. They were quickly cornered by the other half of it's forces.

"Trapped!" G'kar exclaimed.

"Well, if it's any consolation, they didn't do it on purpose. We're not a threat, so both sets of Tanar'ri got to us on accident. What I wouldn't do for a Baatezu right now."

Pinned between to forces, G'kar drew his sword. "I'm not gonna let 'em have us with out taken a few with me."

"Kerjal, don't you have a spell or something to get us out of here?" Tandin screeched desperately.

"No! I left all those in favor of better combat spells." Suddenly an idea struck him. "G'kar, remember how I said I wasn't done reading all the spells contained in my staff because they all have their own unusual quirks?"

"Yeah," he replied, readying himself for his ultimate battle.

"I might have some kind of teleport, but I'm not sure."

"GET US OUT OF HERE!" G'kar hollered.

"Right!" the mage concentrated all his know-how and magical activation powers into one spot. The crystal in the tip of the staff flashed. The Tanar'ri stood alone.

Lower Ward, Sigil
Peak, Day Three
**[by Matt Oostman]**

G'kar stood, sword bared, same as he had a moment before. He looked around. From the little light there was, he saw he was in an ally, smaller then the last one, and no tanar'ri. There was a thick smog in the air, but as far as he knew, he was still in the Hive. Not far to his left there was a large pile of trash clogging a gutter in the street. Unable to see very far the other direction, he headed toward the street.

Nick Tanner had spent the entire morning sharpening his knives and making preparations to hunt down some more food supplies. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself was the reason he had stayed holed up in his shop for this long. But with the day half gone, Nick finally had to admit the truth to himself: "Face, Tanner. You're nothing but a scared rabbit. But even a rabbit can fight when cornered. Now get out there and do something for yourself!"

Brave words. He might have believed them on a normal day. But, the words had been said and now he had to act on them. He took a deep breath, worked up his nerve, then grabbed his freshly sharpened knives, and left, making only one stop to assure his shop still existed entirely. Looking over it quickly, his attention was drawn away by a sound in the ally. There was a short flash of light followed by a short gust of wind. He listened more closely, but the only sound he heard was that of a small fire. He sniffed the air and immediately regretted it. The air was foul this morning. Then it came to him. A torch. Someone was planning to burn down his shop!

Ready to defend his home he jumped around the corner with a knife in each hand, ready for anything. Directly in front of him stood what looked like one of the mercenaries the Tanar'ri force brought with them. It was holding a flaming scimitar over it's shoulder, ready to swing. Nick didn't stop to ask who he was, he darted at him, too close to swing such a sword, but perfect for a knife. Swinging a short arc at chest height, he caught the warrior across the left arm just as he retaliated by slamming Nick into the wall with his shield. Dazed, he looked up at the guy who had pinned him. He looked half elf, half orc. He brought his scimitar to the ground between Nick's feet and growled into his face, "Where am I?"

"Sigil," Nick gasped, "Wasted Day's Alley."

"What Ward?" demanded his captor.

"Lower," he squeaked.

"Good. Now, who are you and why'd you nick me?"

"I'm, um, Nick Tanner, and you came at me with a sword."

"I did not attack you. If I attacked you, you'd have a lot less limbs." The brute released him.

Nick thought for a moment that they might be in the same predicament, the warrior might just better equipped for the job. "Hey," Nick asked, "you're not perchance looking for food, are you?"

"I don't need food, I have some. Now get out of my way, I need to be somewhere else."

"Can I get some? Where is it? I'll get it myself."

"No. I'd have to show you the way. You wouldn't want to go there anyway, you'd have to go through the Hive."

"I see. If you didn't want to share it you could just say that."

G'kar knew if he was going to get to the gem cutters to meet Kerjal, he'd have to get rid of this guy. "Here," he threw Nick a hunk of the bread in one of his pouches, "Now I need to leave." The warrior trotted past the trash heap and down the road.

Lady's Ward, Sigil
Peak, Day Two
**[by Matt Oostman]**

Kerjal appeared in the middle of an elaborate house. From the look of it, he was in the Lady's Ward, or at least in a better place in the Market. He took a quick glance around. Nice furniture, a few paintings, a full silver set. He made note of anything of entrance, then checked the kitchen for remaining food. There was little to eat, and anything left was spoiled. He jaunted out through the back door, hoping to avoid any remaining members of the nearby society. Every once in a while he caught a glimpse of the interiors of one the houses that wasn't boarded up. There seemed to be more people in this part of town, mostly barricaded within their homes. He actually saw some Dabus and Harmonium patrols, scouting out the more troubled parts of this ward. He made a turn onto a street he knew better and decided to change his route. At the top of the street there was an enormous wall being constructed. Apparently the residents of the Lady's Ward were as paranoid as he thought they'd be. He decided to take an alternative route instead of being questioned by the Harmonium guard that stood at the wall.

Somewhere in Sigil
Peak, Day Two
**[by Matt Oostman]**

Bright flash. Friends gone.

He looked around and felt for the link that connected him with Kerjal.

Alone. One mind. No friends. Find him.

He scurried down the street, avoiding piles of trash and things rotting in the gutters. Rodents often made their home in the Hive, but this ferret planned to seek out the mage at all costs. He started to get weaker due to separation anxiety that mages and their familiars went through when they were so far apart.

Need go faster. Tired. The ferret's thought was followed by the sound of squeaking wheels. One of the Dustmen's body carts was bearing down on him at a rather uncomfortable rate. He quickly jumped and scampered up it's side as it rushed by. He sat among the fresh dead and caught a quick ride to the city morgue, where he got off and continued on his journey.

Lower Ward, Sigil
Early Afternoon, Day Two
**[by Matt Oostman]**

G'kar sat in front of Jertha's Jewelry, exhausted from running through the entire Lower Ward. Something grabbed his shoulder and he spun around, ready slaughter whatever had sneaked up on him. Tandin stood there like he had been there the entire time. "Holy Hells! You trying to kill me, berk? How'd you find this place?"

"Well, I knew that finding a gemcutter's in the Lower would be like finding a Sensate at a Xaositect party. So, I started wandering. Turns out I showed up just down the street. Hey, is that a rat on your boot?"

"What?" G'kar looked down, ready to kick whatever vermin lurked there.

"No, that's my ferret," a familiar sounding voice called. Walking up behind them was Kerjal. He picked up the rodent and placed it on his shoulder. "There. Now is everyone all right? We all got here in one piece? Good. Now let's get to work."

"We're gonna need shovels," the warrior said.

"There's an equipment shop down the street. It's abandoned so I don't think anyone'll mind if we borrow a few things. G'kar, you take care of the door. Tandin, you take care of the borrowing. I believe that's your specialty, isn't it?"

"Yeah, fine. Let's go"

The pair walked up to the wooden shop. G'kar grinned. "This will be a snap." The large warrior planted himself on the ground, then planted his feet through the door. Tandin rushed in and started picking through the tools and utensils he found. He grabbed three shovels and they returned to the shop. Upon their return they noticed Kerjal on the ground with a small talisman.

"What are you doing?" asked the halfling.

"Well," the mage said up to them, "It's been a while since we buried the box. So I decided we'd best be sure where it was before we try digging into the foundation of a building." The talisman started glowing. "Dig here."

The trio each took a shovel and began in. It wasn't easy to get through the well worn soil that covered the area over the box, and before long they began to tire. G'kar had long since dropped his cloak next to Kerjal's robes and just know pulled of his shirt. Tandin was taking "a short break" and watching the other two do all the work. Suddenly they hit something. "This must be it," the mage panted. The warrior dropped to his knees to brush of the box and found the handle. Calling the others to help him, the trio unearthed the container. Kerjal cracked it open. Sifting through the other things in it, he pulled out a small platinum chest.

"The box." G'kar smiled.

"Yes, get out your key." The mage pulled out a piece of a gold coin. G'kar handed his half to him. He linked the two together and dropped it on top of the lock. It popped open with a flash of blue light. Opening the lid, he shielded his eyes from the burst of colors that accompanied it. Reaching out, beckoning them in, were the globes of swirling magic. He wrapped his fingers around one. It was warm to his touch. He held it up, showing it to Tandin. The halfling put out his palm. He very carefully handed it over, continuing to watch it's patterns.

"Have you ever held raw magic?" the mage spoke, still in awe of the things he had created so many years ago.

"No," the wide-eyed thief replied, "what does it do?"

"I'm not sure any more. There are four attack spheres, four defense. One for each element. We had to travel to the Elemental Planes themselves to get enough energy in one spot." The mage gently took it back from Tandin. "G'kar, we should probably take the entire chest, that way they wont get knocked around."

"Right." G'kar grabbed the chest and tied it above the flap on his backpack. Trio decided to leave the hole mostly unfilled, they hadn't the energy at the moment to do anything about it. They walked off in search of a place they might find something better to drink and to fill up their food and water supply.

Mindspider's Lair, Sigil
Late Morning, Day Two
**[by Shelaam]**

Mertian settled into his throne, freshly washed and robed, and sipped on a cool glass of Guvanian punch, made from the juices of three rare fruits. In his other hand, he toyed with the golden mimir while he let his mind relax, purging doubts and fears that plagued even one as mighty as he.

- The short rest was well needed. I have not felt so weary in aeons -
- Though it seems matters are getting even further out of control. Can we possibly thwart this threat? -
- Of course. But first we need... more information. -

Operating the gleaming bone box, Mertian held it to his mouth.

"Material information concerning the identity of the invaders is as follows:

"One: Fiends from all of the lower planes have been convinced to invade Sigil, for reasons currently unknown. Combined with citizens forced into the open in search of food, this has resulted in immense loss of life and destruction, seemingly centred in the Lower and Hive Ward areas. This suggests that our enemy has far reaching influence and extremely subtle planning.

"Two: Our information network has been systematically destroyed, so that now the few surviving agents are all within the bounds of Sigil, and for the most part contactable only with some difficulty. The two remaining linked to the mindspider, Sabrilla and Tandin, have both narrowly escaped destruction by fiends, and as only Rimlani know of the existence of this project, one must surmise that our enemy has great psionic power and has sensed and infiltrated the spider's web. A trap has, therefore, been prepared, and appropriate precautions taken.

"Three: The invader has, to all appearances, usurped the Lady of Pain's control. This is evidenced by the apparent fact that only invading fiends can gain egress from the portals. This is most disturbing as it suggests that our enemy has achieved where even deities have failed, and thus is a being or several beings of great might."

Mertian paused.

- Hmmm ... the indomitable Lady, what has become of her? -
- Perhaps she has finally met her match -
- Either that, or - here Mertian allowed himself an inner smile - something else. It is time to set our favorite hound to work again -

Holding up the mimir once again, he said,

"The Lady of Pain, guardian of Sigil, has apparently lost control of the city and stalks the streets near the conflict slaying all in her path. Possible reasons for this behavior are:

"One: The Lady has been dominated by the invader, and is being used to further its destructive cause;

"Two: The Lady has had control of the city and its portals wrenched from her grasp, and savagely releases her fury.

After thinking for a moment, he continued.

"Three: ...

The Civic Festhall, Sigil
Peak, Day Two
**[by Shelaam]**

Cray was flying, floating in complete darkness, yet somehow he knew he was in an immense tunnel, infinitely long. A screaming hurricane rushed him along, causing his hair to writhe like Sabrilla's and buffetting all thought from his mind, save for the occasional urge to cluck like a chicken. Ahh... Pandemonium. Such peace. Never have to see another soul...

Cray's musings were abruptly cut off as he smashed into the the wall of the tunnel headfirst, causing him excruciating pain. As he lay, curled with his head in his hands, it gradually dawned upon him that his beloved winds had disappeared and he was surrounded by a soft nimbus of light. As the pain died down, he opened his eyes to see the light was coming from a small golden pyramid, spinning gently in the air in front of his face.

"Cluck?" he said tentatively.

The pyramid replied in an all too familiar voice which made Cray's face contort into a vicious scowl.

"SORRY TO INTERRUPT YOU PLEASANT DREAM, MY FRIEND, BUT THE WAKING WORLD MOVES ON, AND THERE IS MUCH TO DO. YOUR ASSISTANCE WOULD BE APPRECIATED - YOUR COMPLETION OF THE LAST TASK WAS, I MUST SAY, SPLENDID."

Cray carefully weighed the satisfaction he would gain from tossing a few carefully chosen profanities concerning his master's lineage and personal habits against the potential pain to his still throbbing head, and decided against it.

"What do you want," he asked in a deadpan monotone.

"LISTEN CLOSELY - THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT ...

Bliss was roused from his sleep by the faint creak of a door opening. Somewhat surprisingly, whoever it was shielded their mind from him, and his eyes flew open.

*Not so fast, Bleaker. You're not leaving without me, and taking the dark of why you've hauled us around Sigil all night with you.*

Cray was standing at the door, obviously ready to slink out.

"No, Bliss. What I have to do now is too dangerous, and you've been through enough already for my sake. Besides, what I _do_ know is more likely to confuse you than anything."

*Danger is a part of life, my friend, and facing and overcoming one's fears is an important step along the road to perfection*

"So where're we off ta, Guv?" Harpsichord's voice rang from across the room, where she and Delva were getting their belongings, such that they were, together.

Cray sighed. "Lower Ward. I know the nearest shortcut portal".

Avenue of Reorx Breath, Lower Ward
Early Afternoon
**[by Shelaam]**

The long causeway of Reorx Breath was a twisting affair so named by a prime dwarf who had set up shop here, like so many others, in the steelworking heart of Sigil. Normally crowded with fumes from the forges and the hustle and bustle of the finest ironmongers in the multiverse, the avenue was deserted save for the ash raining like sinister snowflakes from some nearby fire and the bodies littering the streets.

"She's bin 'ere right lately, Guv," Harpsichord crowed at Clay in her own, unique dialect. "This deader's still warm, 'n spite o the fact he looks like he jus' went in the wrong door of Osmonder's Meat Mart."

"Good. Keep your eyes open. We're looking to find something to explain why our Lady's writing so many sods into the dead-book," Cray said, and muttered to himself, "and then I can move to Carceri and get a nice safe job as a gehreleth dentist."

The foursome cautiously proceeded down the side of the street, taking cover under the eaves of shops and making ready to duck into any of them which weren't boarded up at the slightest hint of trouble. Examining the bodies of the unfortunates in the street did little to ease the nervous consensus of paranoia, the corpses all looking as if they had had a dozen scimitars for morning tea.

Suddenly Bliss' head snapped up.

*I sense a presence, very powerful, but dying quickly*

Before anyone could gainsay her, Harpsichord was off. "Stays yerselfs put, good masters, 'n' ol Harpsichord 'll bring back the chant."

She moved with exaggerated 'sneaky' motions, as if she'd learned how to move stealthily from the theatre, but Cray found that if he wasn't concentrating on her, his eyes seemed to slip past her as if she had some sort of weird grease on. Cray sighed and wondered whether the Greek Gods would ever realise the pointlessness of such melodrama.

Harpsichord was soon back. "I saw nothin' that ain't had a hobnob with Hades yet, but one o' the deaders up here sure does look right strange."

Cray had seen some strange creatures in his trip round the Great Ring, and this one probably fell into the "rather surprised that it crawled out of the swamp" category. About two or three feet long and the same high, the thing looked rather much like a large crab, with a matte black shell and a half dozen appendages of the same color, plus a pair of antennae and eyes on stalks.

"You sure this was the thing, Bliss. Looks like some kind of exotic pet for one of those snob-nobs in the Lady's Ward."

*Oh, yes. Definitely sentient, with some psionic powers. I can feel lingering resonances dying even now. The strangest thing, though - as it was dying, it felt like it had a great amount of power, more than myself easily, which was abruptly cut off. That shouldn't happen - the energy should gradually fade as the brain dies. Believe me, I should know*

"Er, yes," said Cray, somewhat uncomfortably trying not to broach the topic of the illithid's diet.

"No blademarks," said Delva quietly. Cray looked her up and down and realised that she'd been withdrawn since waking and that her pallor was a little pale - but now was not the time to be worrying over a bit of a cold or other bug. Glancing back at the 'crab' which Harpsichord was unceremoniously prodding with her staff, he observed, "you're right, Delva. I don't think the Lady killed this, what ever it is. Anyone seen a critter like this before?"

They all shook their heads, then Bliss looked up.

*But I bet you a bag of jink to a stinger I know someone who has*

The Mortuary, Hive Ward
Mid-Afternoon, Day Two
**[by Shelaam]**

"... and so, 187 feeling unready to advance to True Death at this current time, I hiked up my skirts and fled back here, a howling mob of cretins snapping at my heels. While many of the guards were off trying to find where all of the Collectors' wagons had got to, there were enough left to hold off my assailants. Whereby, I came back here, barring the door behind me, only to find you engaged in that ridiculous sculpture you call 'art'."

If modrons could blush, 187 did so, and scraped its feet in the dust. Pathosis sighed and leaned back in his chair, taking a long draught from a mug of coffee from the dusty plains of Thanatos. It was a long standing joke that Thanatosan coffee had a kick that could wake the Dead, and Pathosis figured that, with the hours he worked, it was wise to keep a decent stock of it. Now, with there being little other food to be found around the Mortuary, his eyes were literally bulging out of there sockets. Thus it was that the loud bang on the barred door caused him to jump from his chair, spilling his drink all over himself and 187 in the process.

"Sod off, you murdering bastards!" he cried, "we've top shelf magic in here, so don't force us to use it!"

*It's Bliss, Pathosis. Open up*

Grabbing a scalpel just in case, Pathosis suspiciously slid back the bars and the illithid, trailed by his companions traipsed into Pathosis' dissection room (or, as he affectionately referred to it, the Workshop). The surgeon took his measure of the quartet, all covered in ash and Bliss sporting a green tinged bloodstain through a ragged slice in his robe.

"Not looking quite as chirpy as last time we met, my tentacled friend," quipped Pathosis, indicating for them to sit with a wave of his hand.

*Pike it, berk,* came the reply in a mental growl ,*you're not looking like an incubus yourself. We had a bit of trouble getting here. In case you haven't noticed, there's a sodding war going on at your doorstep, so you can probably figure that we didn't drop it for scones and tea.*

Regaining his composure, whilst berating himself for losing his temper, Bliss made the introductions and told Pathosis his reason for the visit, pointing at the crablike corpse lying on a magical disk of force, courtesy of Delva.

"Hmm," mused Pathosis, and his pallid, balding face brightened considerably as he pointed towards the dissection table. "If I may?" Clay began to consider which wing of the Gatehouse he would be best interred in, before giving away the idea as futile; the entire Dustman faction probably needed to move its headquarters to their own wing of the Bleakhouse.

For some half an hour Pathosis worked on the creature with an assortment of implements that suggested that asking what he did in his spare time would be unwise. Finally, he released a cry of triumph and the others crowded around the grisly bench.

Pointing to various parts of the thing, the surgeon gave a brief explanation of his discoveries, instructing his clockwork lackey to take notes.

"This," he said, pointing to the black carapice, "is not so much a shell as an exoskeleton. If you will look inside, you will see that what it is covering is almost entirely cerebral - that is BRAIN - matter. In fact, the creature's muscular structure is extremely simple and limited, but the brain is substantially larger than a human's."

*That would account for my sensation of psionic powers from it, I suppose.*

"Perhaps," continued the surgeon, relishing the opportunity to give a lecture. "What REALLY satisfied me was this," he said, rolling the thing over and pointing to a jagged structure on the bottom of its belly.

"Looks like a kind of mouth," murmured Cray.

*My guess is that we've found our prime suspect in the orc murder case*

"Not just the orc, my friend, but almost fifty others I have seen so far in the past couple of days - though no Collectors have returned for several hours, strangely enough. But yes, I believe you are right. Near the mouth was a type of stomach where I found a fresh human brain. Perhaps a distant cousin of yours, Bliss?"

The illithid let that one pass.

"What killed the thing?" asked Delva from behind the others.

"This." Pathosis carefully held a gleaming object up to the light. It was a blade, about an inch long and obviously razor sharp. "There are about a dozen of these lodged within