The City of Secrets: Part 1

The City of Secrets: Part 1

It's the dead of anti-peak in Sigil, the lack of illumination has sent the city into a pseudo-anti-peak. One would be able to see little lights from various sources dotting the Cage if it weren't for the thick clouds of smog that had built up.

"Damn..." you think "It looks like it might rain."

As it is, the city's usual greasy clouds had settled over the avenues you find yourself in, cutting off sight after fifty yards or so. The unnamed district is just upward of the Mortuary and near Hellgate district. The area is usually relatively safe most of the time despite being in the Hive, no one wants to start trouble with the possibility of Baatezu being near by while the business from the near by Dustmen helps to keeps things going.

Being so close to the Lower Ward the district isn't as shambled as the rest of the Hive, though worn and ash smudged the walls aren't as patched together from different pieces, though none seems to match its neighbor still. The streets are unusually quiet, only a few people making their way along the twisting and confusing narrow avenues, sometimes guided by a Lightboy holding their trademark glowing staff. Who would ever have thought something like that would happen next?

At the corner of Lent Lane and Caretaker Road you notice traffic seems to have picked up, people walking into the intersection or simply standing at the corner. Coming across a group in the middle of anti-peak, however, always gives cause to be wary. Before you have a chance to get peery, however, something bigger grabs your attention.

You hear the sound of running, a group of clomping feet smacking against the cobblestone and echo in the smog. It's very close. A man wearing a green scarf and clutching a wooden box to his chest suddenly appears out of the haze and behind him is a group of nasty bashers, running him down like dogs.

Everyone suddenly reacts as the man runs straight for the little group at the intersection. The frightened look on his face suddenly turns to surprise "Please help!" he calls out to group just before the hope welled up in that cry is punctuated by the twang of a crossbow. The man tumbles to the ground with a bolt in his back, the case he was carrying flung in the air. Everyone's head seems to turn, the case's lid opens as it flips through the air letting fly a bright red star from within. It pierces the darkness and smog, becoming a clear point of light flying through the air which all eyes can't help but follow as it falls to the ground.

Upon the cobblestone the red jewel cracks, from inside it spills a blinding light that fills the area. It spreads so quickly you barely have time to close your eyes as it swallows you, the radiance covering your body in an intense heat that doesn't burn. Its brightness reaches a level you've never known, even with your eyes closed you can see it, even consuming you voice as you cry out, until it is everything. And then suddenly it is gone and you find yourself standing on the corner of Lent Lane and Caretaker Road wondering what just happened.

The bright flash of light hurt the eyes of a trio of small figures drunkenly stumbling through the intersection--a rather short human and two goblins. The human lets out a yell as the blinding light envelopes the group, Aaah! Damnit! That's gonna make the hangover worse tomorrow . . . He drunkenly moves his eyes over to his goblin companion, mumbling something about moving along, Don't wanna get yourself hurt in some stupid street-brawl, champ. 's my job to make sure you're healthy.

Such a pity, what a rare piece that must have been. Chrys thinks aloud, looking to the body of the fallen man with the quarrel in his back, wondering if he shows the meagerest signs of life.

He thinks aloud, to the rest of the street wordlessly placing the words in their minds, Did another one see the words in that gem? Or did this one imagine them?

Ogdurnan takes a long look at the box, then glances with interest at the man on the ground. I sure hope he's okay... he prattles cheerfully to no one in particular as he begins to backstep into the shadows. Then he stops and cocks his head to the side. Uhh, who said that?

As Ogdurnan replies Chrys turns to him, again speaking directly to his mind. This one did. his response in time with pulses of his bodily glow.

Shielding his eyes as the light washed over him, Rakaneth watches in slight bemusement and dismay at the turn of events. "Such a shame, that one had something that could have been of great value. Such a shame," the genasi mutters to himself as he steps back into the shadows and continues to watch the groups fighting.

Seeing the man, his weird prize, and the odd pursuers, Yaga freezes. Ordinarily, simple courtesy would be enough to force him to help the man to his feet, but as it is, Yaga looks for a place to hide and observe the chasers before deciding on a course of action. The stuff in my pack is too valuable to be caught with, he thinks. But this could be promising, too.

The silence only lasts a moment as everyone stands stunned, even the men in black and rags stand there with their mouths open. You’re not sure what just happened but it certainly doesn't berk with a big brain-box to realize magic must be involved.

Everything in confused, some of you are quick to take action while others gather their wits and stop to look over the situation. Despite the blinding light you just endured you find that strangely enough it hasn't affected your night vision at all. Your unhindered sight allows you to immediately catch the visible effect the blast did have. A strange script now covers the area, stretching out in a twenty foot radius is a twisting alien script that covers the cobblestone now, even reaching up some of the walls of the buildings. As you look down at yourself you realize you aren't an exception, script twist over your exposed flesh as if tattooed on as well as covering your clothes, armor and weapons, as if instead of smoke the explosion of light left a residue of words on everything. As for the jewel at the center, it lays in little pieces like cheap glassware smashed upon the ground.

A quick look around shows you others at the intersection you had not gave much attention to before. A small human, or tall Halfling, barks at the two goblins behind him, one dressed in overalls and the other heavily muscled for his kind. A construct of glass of gemstone looks about as you hear a voice projected into your minds while a disheveled looking gnome looks warily around him and tries to creep off the streets. Hidden in the shadows and perhaps unnoticed for their quiet, a swarthy dressed bladeling carries a large awkward sack and on another street a dark-skinned humanoid cries to back out down the street.

The intersection of Lent Lane and Caretaker Road is terrible cramped with little in the way of alleyways between houses and Yaga finds it hard to do anything but stand off the middle of the road in the front of a bolted up kip.

"Boss! What in the Nine Hells was that!" cries the goblin dressed in dirty overalls, staring at his two companions. From up the street echoes a similar burst of confusion.

"You barrel headed fool!" yells the voice of a figure thinly veiled by the receding smog along with a crack and the sound of someone hitting the ground A wiry green skinned humanoid stands over the crossbow shooter, most likely a Gith. He's dressed in a dark red coat and leathers with his hair tied up and bandana around his head. He looks at the group with a sneer.

"Damn all the hells...What are you doing you sniveling gutter snapes, pick up that trash! We'll be taking them with us." he shouts at his men. The stunned bashers snapped out their daze grip their clubs and daggers, grinning with their foul rotted teeth.

From behind you can hear the tread of more feet as more rag-pickers holding crude weapons run to the intersection. Who ever they are it seems they had some organization, they meant to cut the man they chased off completely.

OOCNeed everyone to roll Initiative. We'll start off in a surprise round, everyone gets one action before the enemies turn and combat begins.

Attached Images
File Type: jpg EncounterSR.jpg (136.5 KB, 0 views)

"What in the Hells...?" Yaga says to himself. At last he drops his sack, hoping it'll be safe, and then draws his knives. "Dammit. I think I'm gonna be home late tonight."

Alfgar is fast becoming sober as the ragged bashers start to move against the group in the square, Trouble is what it is, Rahgon. What's this crap all over me? Pike it . . . He draws his weapons, a short sword and a dagger, getting into a defensive stance as the rag-pickers move up Looks like we'll be late getting to the kip, champ. Too bad, I was gonna get you a jinkskirt for the good fight you had tonight. Instead we're gonna be putting these barmies in the dead book.


Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.8
Copyright ©2000 - 2015, vBulletin Solutions, Inc.
Myth-Weavers Status