You have just come back from visiting the Library Segment of Tradegate. You were there to resupply yourself of material components for your spells - and you paid for them this time. Walking in the front door of your parents' inn, you are looking forward to going up to your room and sleeping. However, it appears that is not to be.

"Lilah! Just the Indep I was looking for. Please, come talk to me."

Even though the voice is pleasant, and it is only a request, you know that you have no choice in the matter. Looking to the speaker, you see who you knew the voice belonged to - Swider. While your faction doesn't believe in leaders and orders and restrictions and such, there's nothing against commanding respect and a bit of fear. And Swider is an Indep who's got a lot of respect in this town. You, being young and new to the faction, have reason to fear what he might say to you. After all, his word can sway the opinion of a lot of Indeps.

You go over and sit at his table. Your mother gives you a reassuring, but worried, smile from behind the bar. You sit, your tail twitching nervously as you wait to hear what this man could possibly have to say to you. You merely return his greeting with a nod.

"Hmmm, quiet are we today? Good enough. I will keep this chant short and to the point. I have something that I would like you to do for the Indeps. Now, I know you know that we are not a faction - too many rules and orders. Nope, we're just a bunch of bloods who look out for each other. And, as a well respected figure in these parts, I have keep that respect by looking out for a larger number of our fellows.

"I'm sure you've seen all of the new sods in town of late. Well, they're all Indeps who've flown the Cage. There are two major problems that have cropped up there as of late. First, the Harmonium's been scragging a lot more of our folk than they have in the past. This seems to mark the beginning of some advanced campaign to rid us from Sigil. That's not right. But there is also another problem.

"It seems that a plague has been sweeping through our brothers in Sigil as well. It is very fast and very fatal. All who have contracted it there, have died. But we have people both here and there who are working on finding a cure - or at least the cause. I suspect the dark is that it's the work of the Hardheads. They scrag all Indeps found out of the Grand Market there. They can't get into the Market - so they send in this plague. But we've nearly got the trump on those berks. Some our spellslingers here think they may have a cure. We just need some confirmation of certain information from one of us in Sigil.

"What I would like you to do is to be the courier for that information. And while you're there, poke around and see what's what. I hear the chant from those who leave Sigil, but they're biased. I want to know what an Indep of Tradegate will see. One who's got no preconceptions about the place. Talk to the Indeps who are staying in the city and see what they know."

Here he pauses and looks at you.

"Of course, you don't have to do this. It's just that it's nice to know how capable a basher an Indep is; so I can recommend them for jobs to the planewalkers that come through. It is also good to see what kind of work ethic you have. After all, you have to work to live in Tradegate. Otherwise, you might just have to go walkabout for a long time."

You know that you have no choice. Besides, if there are people oppressing your fellow Indeps, you can't stand by and watch. You smile weakly and nod your acceptance.

"Good, glad to hear it. Here's the info from our mages here in town." He hands you a sealed packet of papers. "You are take them to our contact in Sigil. His name is Tarstix, and he's a tiefling of his name. He's got skin the color of dusty pitch and green-brown hair. Wears leather studded with rock. You'll find him two days hence in a tavern called The Sword and Buckler. It's on the corner of Abyss Ave. and Blood Boil Street in the Lady's Ward. To get there, go into the Library and head for the arches to the reading rooms in the spireward wing. Rapidly flip through the pages of a spellbook to activate the portal there. It will place you a few blocks from the tavern.

"Give him this packet, and take any info he has for us here. If it is not too urgent, I want you to also talk to the big Indeps of Sigil. You should be able to find them in the Red Lion on the Market. If he's got urgent matters, bring it back to me and then go back to the Red Lion."

Again, Swider takes a long look at you. "Now, as for doing this, I think a compensation of 50 cages would be sufficient?"

**********

Here you are in Sigil.

The previous two days were something of a blur. You spent most of that time acquiring (both paid for and otherwise) the few pieces of stuff that you might need for an extended stay in another city. The City. You got a small feel for it based on some stories that your father told you. Your parents, while both proud, had mixed reactions.

Your mother didn't want you to go, based on the plague. "If all the Indeps in Sigil catch it, you could catch it to. If you must go, be careful and avoid all gates to the Abyss."

Father was a bit more pragmatic. "It's an honor that Swider picked you. Of course, you'll have to work on keeping his image of you so you'll get more jobs. More jobs means more places to travel to. More places means more leather-heads to be peeled. But only take the easy marks on your first trip."

But you decided to go, if only to keep living in Tradegate. So you made your preparations, got your final directions, and stepped through the portal into the streets of the Lady's Ward.

Even with your parents' descriptions, you weren't quite ready for the experience of actually being here. It is slightly unnerving to have half a city hanging constantly over your head. But a job's a job. And you just want to get this one over with as quickly as possible. You move away from the front door of the barber shop where the portal from Tradegate opened up and down Blood Boil to the left. You nervously wait to finish walking the three blocks to the tavern.

You keep glancing over your shoulder, looking for Harmonium patrols. You have no desire to see one, let alone try to talk to them. The Hardheads are the cause of the plague and crackdown after all. You have a couple of close calls with a patrol stepping out onto the street ahead of you, but arrive without being stopped.

The Sword and Buckler is sitting on the corner of Abyss Avenue and Blood Boil Street, just as you were told. (You had the irrational fear that the Harmonium may have learned of your meeting and burned it to the ground.) It is a simple two-story building made of stone beams and dingy white-washed plaster. The red paint on the shutters is faded and peeling. Over the main doors are the namesake of the tavern - a set of badly rusted rapier and buckler. Quickly looking around again for Harmonium, you take a breath and step inside.

Like the outside, the common room is of simple design and well-used. The plaster ceiling and stone support beams are stained black from countless evenings' worth of soot belched from lanterns and pipes. The number of empty hooks around the outer wall show that many decorations used to hang there - but only six badly dented shields are left. Directly across from the door you entered by is the serving bar - a long shelf of well-polished wood. A pair of carefully maintained sabres hang atop a worn buckler. Near bar is wide set of stairs leading up the second floor.

Four trestle tables occupy the center of the room, and a series of at least ten smaller, round tables form a perimeter along the outer edges. Even though it is fairly light out, the tavern is about half full. The general buzz of conversation is fairly loud and seems close to friendly. The clientele, however, look slightly less than friendly. They are all (at first glance) humanoid, and look like tough bashers. The basic thug type, in fact. You get a few appreciative stares, but no loud catcalls or insults.

Three serving maids are currently making the rounds of the room. Two are humans, one older than you, the other younger. The older has brown hair and wears a short blue dress. She appears to be the dedicated 'bar wench' - making the trips between the patrons and the bar. The other human, a mere girl with very short-cropped blond hair and a black dress, along with the third girl (a half-elf of indeterminate age with hair three shades lighter than yours and wearing a yellow dress) move in a relaxed manner serving food.

One of the trestle tables is occupied - the others are empty. It has a party of four dwarves and a human. Based on their looks, all four are definitely from the same clan and possibly are brothers. Each has hair a shade of brown woven into similar-looking braids. Each dwarf also has a tattoo of crossed pick axe and shovel on their left cheek. All are wearing gray tabards over chainmail. A variety of weapons (swords, axes, crossbows) are either under the benches or on the table. The human has, oddly enough, silver hair and is dressed in ornate green robes. Based on his dress, he is probably a spellslinger hired by the dwarves.

Three of the tables near the door you came in are occupied. The table closest to you is occupied by a single person. He's a young human, and he doesn't look at all safe to be around. His hair is styled into a three pointed, pink mohawk and a large scar runs down the left side of his face. He wears a black vest over a green shirt atop blue pants. He wears a sandal on his right foot and a hob-nailed boot on his left. A broken dagger is stuffed into his belt and a halberd is set on the table in front of him. He smiles at you, and you see he is missing many teeth. He also wears a faction symbol - the Xaositects. After greeting you, he immediately spins around in his chair and falls on the floor. Then he seems content to stay wrapped around the table legs.

At the table past the Chaosman, towards the bar, sit a pair human women. These two look like twin sisters - at least in physical appearance. Both are of average height, but are tanned and obviously physically fit. Their black hair is identically woven into a single braid which hangs to the waist. Their dress marks them of different professions, however. The one closest to you is a warrior - dressed in bronze plate mail with a long sword on each hip. The other is wearing a simple white robe, with an emblem of a metallic blue bird embroidered on it. A mace sits on the table near her. They seem to be in a quiet argument over a piece of paper spread between them.

The final occupied table within easy view also has a pair of occupants. These appear to be engaged in an interview of some kind. On the one side, is the person who appears to be in control. He is a half-elf of stern and forbidding appearance. His blond hair is neatly trimmed and collar length. He wears a blond goatee that is kept trimmed to a severe point. He has a pearl earring in his right earlobe. He wears a black shirt with silver embroidery atop ivory pants tucked into knee-high black leather boots. He sits very upright as he questions the man in front of him.

The man on the other side of the table is, on first glance, nothing more than a common thug. Scraggly brown hair tops a craggy face that hasn't been shaved in a couple of days. He wears a tattered grey cloak over worn, brown leather armor. A few daggers sit in a bandolier on his chest and a studded oaken cudgel lies on the table in front of him. However, there is something about him that makes you uneasy. Something about how he seems to sit in shadow even though there is a lantern hanging over the table...

Shaking the feeling, you begin to move further into the bar before you attract too much attention. You choose to move clockwise around the common room, as the tables near the bar are empty. When you get to the second door off of Blood Boil, you spot Tarstix. He is sitting at the second table back from the door, his back to the wall. He looks human, but of an odd coloration. As Swider said, his skin is the color of pitch that has been exposed to the sun and dust for a few years and his hair does look like a collection of flexible sticks. You can't see under the brown cloak to see if he wears the studded armor, but it has to be him. What could be a problem, though, is that he's not alone.

There are two others sitting at the table engaged in conversation with him. It is hard to make out any details on the one closest to you - his back is to you. You can see that he is dressed in a coal black cloak with a somewhat oily texture - and the hood is drawn up. When he reaches for the drink in front of him, you see a white shirt with elbow length coal black gloves. A walking stick is leaning on the wall near him and you see a crossbow under his chair. He appears to be about your height.

The other person appears to be another tiefling, and heavily armed at that. He is dressed in a black leather overcoat, with black leather armor underneath. You can see the twin hilts of swords strapped to his back, as well as a total of four slim knives in shoulder sheathes. You can also see a bandolier of brass vials across his chest. A large leather hat sits on the table in front of him - the band is made of silver disks with a design on them (you can't tell what from here). He also wears black leather gloves. His skin is the color of morning fog, and his hair is a brittle grayish-white. Even sitting, it is obvious that he is tall - perhaps just over six foot.

Swider didn't mention if you were supposed to wait for Tarstix to be alone or not. But this is the correct time and place for your meeting, so you have to assume that those two are at least neutral to your cause. Steadying your nerves, you begin to move towards the table...

Authored by: Ken Lipka E-mail me: krlipka@yahoo.com

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