If it were delivered by yugoloths, they'd've looked inside the box
Between the Spaces: Portal-Slayer
Three people were summoned back to the main office of Madam Fastindatius' Interplanar Mercenary Service: Red, Kineshka, and Tick. Upon their arrival, they were told that Estevan the ogre mage, head of the Planar Trade Consortium, had a job for them, and they were redirected to his office. Sitting in comfortable-looking chairs in front of the blue giant's desk, he made his offer.
'I've got some cargo I need moved. You'll be meeting up with a man named Harvock an hour spireward of Bedlam, and picking the goods up from him. Then, I need them to go to Nethros, the psionic academy on Phlegethon. I'm offering you each 850 jink to make this delivery.'
Realising that Phlegethon was the third layer of Pandemonium, and that Pandemonium had very dangerous winds (especially for a pair of small kobolds), Tick negotiated Estevan up to 1000 gold each. Upon further inquiry, Estevan let them know that the Bleakers would probably know of a way to Bedlam, so they were off to the Gatehouse.
'Yes?' the Bleaker on guard asked boredly.
'We'd like to get to Bedlam,' Kineshka said.
'Oh. S'pose you'll be wanting the portal, then,' the Bleaker said, and waved vaguely towards a number of nearby doors. 'The portal is only open some of the time. Usually every other day, every four hours, for about 25 minutes. It'll probably open in about half an hour, and the key's depressing thoughts. You should just stand over there and think them until the way opens for you.'
Kineshka handled most of this, with dark, brooding thoughts. She was used to this kind of thing. Eventually, the portal opened and the three travelled to the Outlands. An hour's walk spireward put them in the middle of a large plain, with no contact nearby to meet them. Shortly, though, a great black dragon appeared in the sky. As it gently floated towards the ground, not moving its wings, they could make out the riggings of a ship on the back of the beast - this was Neverest, a planar pirate ship made out of the corpse of an ancient dragon. Upon landing, a rather dashing man gracefully made his way down a foreleg to the ground, and motioned for a small crane to lower a wooden crate to the ground next to him.
'Ho there!' the man said, approaching the party with the crate. 'I'm Harvock, and ye must be the lads Estevan sent to get this.' He patted the crate for emphasis.
'What's in it?' Tick asked, eyeing the crate.
'This is a very special cargo, which only I can provide,' Harvock replied. 'I don't know what they're doing down in Nethros - some kind of psychic place - but they be needin' some sleep. And that's what I've got for 'em.' Tick seemed dubious. He again patted the crate, then set it on the ground. 'I'm told I'm to be paid when Estevan can confirm you've gotten the stuff.' He stood, looking at the three reptiles expectantly.
When Kineshka reached out to touch the crate, Harvock nodded, apparently satisfied, and strode back to his dragon-ship. It departed as abruptly as it arrived. Red scanned the box, discerning that it contained a number of magical auras inside, but lacked the knowledge to discern what kind. Tick shook the box experimentally, and was rewarded with the sound of well-cushioned glass objects occasionally clinking against each other.
Back to Bedlam, then, to the permanent portal to Pandemonium within. Bedlam is built on a hill, with the portal at the base of a great tower at the bottom of the hill, like a clawed hand reaching out of Pandemonium to find solace in the considerably saner Outlands. Madness and wind seem to radiate out from the portal, with the town being notably more organised and safer near the top of the hill. The three ignored the various muggings, murders, and riots on their way to the destination. Once at the portal, they entered.
The first thing they noticed was the wind. It blew, bone-jarringly and mind-rattlingly, constantly through the tunnels. A quickly uttered prayer by Kineshka removed the worst effects of the wind, though, and they travelled through the tunnels in relative peace. After half an hour of travel, they could faintly make out a howling sound that didn't originate from the wind. The sound followed them for about ten minutes until they could make out, beyond the light of Red's flaming ranseur, a small pack of howlers stalking them. Tick abruptly moved the light from Red's weapon to the howlers, though, and that seemed to frighten them off.
Another hour of travel brought them to a larger tunnel, in which a river spiralled around the tunnel, following a strange gravity attracting it to what seemed to be the walls and ceiling. Tick and Kineshka immediately recognised it as the River Styx, renowned across the planes as a destroyer of memory. Tick also recalled the marraenoloths, a race of yugoloth whose only purpose seems to be patrolling the Styx and providing passage for paying travellers. As they sat to wait for a marraenoloth to sail by, Tick started pondering the value of Styx water. Surely, something so dangerous would be worth something to somebody. Opening a glass vial, he leaned over the river to take a sample. Unfortunately, the rock was slightly slippery so close to the river, and an almost maliciously timed gust of wind knocked Tick off balance. Luckily, he was able to grab a bit of rock to prevent himself from falling in. Unluckily, he dipped his arm into the Styx almost up to his elbow.
Red and Kineshka looked at Tick worriedly as he sat on the bank of the river, vial of Styx water in hand, foul-smelling oily ichor dripping from his arm. 'Are you okay?' Red asked.
Tick looked confused, as though he wasn't sure he was the one being addressed. When Red repeated the question, Tick asked, 'Who, me?'
'Yes, you. Are you all right?'
'Of course. Who are you?'
Red and Kineshka shook their heads sadly. Tick's memory had been wiped. Over the next twenty minutes, Red explained to Tick what he knew about the kobold's life, starting with, 'Your name is Tick. You're a mercenary.'
The review was interrupted by a faint mist creeping up along the river. It slowly became thicker and more voluminous, until a shadowy form became visible in the mist. The fog faded, abruptly, to reveal a skeletal boatman on a raft - a marraenoloth had arrived, chuckling as its gaze fell on Tick.
'We want to go to Nethros, the psionic academy,' Red said.
'Three to Phlegethon,' the yugoloth said in a dry voice, then stared at them expectantly.
Tick held up a gold coin. The marraenoloth continued to just stare.
'I think he wants more,' Red said.
'More than this?' Tick asked, apparently confused by that thought.
'What would the standard rate be?' Kineshka asked.
'Three to Phlegethon. The "standard", as you call it, would be three hundred coins,' the marraenoloth said.
'Three hundred of those?' Kineshka asked, indicating Tick's gold piece. The marraenoloth nodded.
'Two hundred ninety!' Tick shouted.
'We don't want to negotiate with this guy,' Red said.
'Why not?' Tick asked.
'I'll explain on the way,' Red said. At the implications of Tick's memory loss, the fiend chuckled again.
Kineshka paid the fare, in the form of pearls, and Red tipped him three platinum pieces. 'You may board,' the yugoloth announced.
The three arrived at Phlegethon, presumedly, and Red and Tick disembarked, Red having explained that if you don't pay marraenoloths enough, they tend to leave you somewhere other than where you wanted to go. Kineshka remained on the raft. 'Can anything be done about our friend?' she asked.
The marraenoloth chuckled again. 'Perhaps. You would need to speak to someone more than a boatman, though.'
'Well, anything can be had if you've enough money,' Kineshka said.
'The price is more than gold. But you have the right idea. If you are important or bold enough to seek out others of my kind, something may be had for you.'
Kineshka stepped off the raft. 'Well, goodbye,' she said, but her farewell was directed to nothingness.
A short time travelling further through the tunnels led them to a large cavern, in which the wind was strangely dampened. In the cavern was a large monastery, forged from wood and crystal. Flanking the wide steps up to the main entrance were two red, crystalline golems. As the three approached, a light appeared inside the chest of each golem, and a faint purple glow surrounded Tick. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't make the light around him dissipate. Shortly, three people emerged from the monastery. The light around Tick and in the golems winked out.
The tall, older man spoke. 'Ah, you must be the deliverymen from Estevan. Wonderful, wonderful.' The boy, standing on his left, looked at Tick strangely, and beckoned the older man down to speak with him. Tick, immensely curious, made the sound of their conversation come to him, triggering a glow to erupt into being inside the crystal golems. He was able to discern that they spoke of Tick, and were saying something about 'empty', before the older man looked his way and summarily dismissed Tick's manifested power. After another few seconds of conversation, he directed the boy to go collect the crate and take it inside.
'You're a group of psionic people, aren't you?' Kineshka asked.
The girl, standing to the man's right, nodded. 'We are.'
'Our friend lost his memory. Can you fix that?'
'Maybe.' The girl looked up to the older man entreatingly, and he nodded.
'Show the other two to some rooms,' he told her. 'I'll take a look at your friend,' he said to the group.
Tick was led to a chamber deep within Nethros, and directed to sit in a large stone chair. Along the way, the older man had asked Tick his name, what happened to him, and what he was able to remember. Although doubtful if he could help, he vowed to try. After nearly an hour of psionic probing, the old man shook his head. 'I'm sorry. Your memories are just... not there anymore.'
'Where'd they go?' Tick asked.
'I suspect the river stole them, and swept them away in its waters.'
'Oh!' Tick fished out his vial of Styx water. 'Could they be in here?'
The man regarded the vial, clearly intrigued. 'I will see. That will take time, though. Show Tick to his room.' This last comment was directed at a dromite who had appeared in the doorway, almost as though he knew he'd be needed at just that time.
Helxan had found two of them, but he couldn't get to the third yet. It would be too dangerous to get that close to himself. This was definitely the group, though - his memory had served him well. He always did have an impeccable sense of time. Ah, there he is. That's all three. There were others, of course, but only three had come to Nethros that day. If only he could interfere, yet. Perhaps never knowing about the secrets Ice held would mean they'd never walk that path, and... but no. It was too early to affect change. All Helxan could do now was watch. It'd be almost a day before they went back to Sigil.
Late that evening, Tick was summoned back to the room with the large stone chair. 'I was able to retrieve some memories from the water,' the older man said, 'but I think only one of them was yours.'
'Were the other ones good?' Tick asked.
'One of them was... interesting,' he said. As though musing to himself, he continued. 'Maybe it would be best to give it to you... yes, that's probably a good idea.' Perhaps somebody else would know what it meant.
Tick stood in the middle of a snowy pine forest. He was negotiating with two fox-people, something about their rescue and freedom. An indeterminate period of time later, Tick and the two fox-people were in a big city, and one of the fox-people gave Tick the chain from its necklace. Tick was very happy about this. Another indeterminate period of time later, Tick was inside a windowless room, hanging his new chain on a peg on the wall. Plenty of other great things were in the room, and Tick knew they were all his.
A man sat in a big city, eating lunch and discussing a new business venture with another man.
A tall, winged man, clearly some kind of celestial, stood in a cold place, surrounded by snow and ice. In a huge sheet of ice before him are frozen massive winged creatures, apparently celestial in origin and incredibly ancient. The winged man is in awe, and trying to figure out what these things could be, when suddenly a number of other people appear, wolf-people and cat-people and a single bear-person. The wolf-people and cat-people beat the winged man into submission, and tie him up. An indeterminate period of time later, the man is on a vast, wasted plain. In the distance two armies of fiends move to clash with each other. The man is surrounded by jackal-headed fiends, who toss him, still bound, into a dirty, oily river that cuts across the plain.
'I'm sorry, that's all I am able to restore to you,' the older man told Tick. 'I think, if you could find the source of the Styx, where all the memories it steals must flow to... although, that would likely mean dealing with the yugoloths, which I wouldn't advise.'
Tick, though, knew something more important. He had to find that room, and get his stuff.
Upon returning to Sigil, Red asked at Madam Fastindatius' Interplanar Mercenary Service if they could do anything for Tick. They said they couldn't, but they would contact the Free League about him. An hour later, an Indep who apparently knew Tick came, and took him to the Fierce Ethyk, an Indep-owned inn on the edge of the Great Bazaar, where they have a room for him until he gets himself settled. Tick and Kineshka spent the next few days searching Sigil for Tick's house (through clever use of divination spells), but to no avail - apparently Tick guarded his domicile well against intrusion. They do have one lead, though - the Indeps knew Tick lived somewhere in the Lower Ward, near the border to the Hive.
Three people were summoned back to the main office of Madam Fastindatius' Interplanar Mercenary Service: Red, Kineshka, and Tick. Upon their arrival, they were told that Estevan the ogre mage, head of the Planar Trade Consortium, had a job for them, and they were redirected to his office. Sitting in comfortable-looking chairs in front of the blue giant's desk, he made his offer.
'I've got some cargo I need moved. You'll be meeting up with a man named Harvock an hour spireward of Bedlam, and picking the goods up from him. Then, I need them to go to Nethros, the psionic academy on Phlegethon. I'm offering you each 850 jink to make this delivery.'
Realising that Phlegethon was the third layer of Pandemonium, and that Pandemonium had very dangerous winds (especially for a pair of small kobolds), Tick negotiated Estevan up to 1000 gold each. Upon further inquiry, Estevan let them know that the Bleakers would probably know of a way to Bedlam, so they were off to the Gatehouse.
'Yes?' the Bleaker on guard asked boredly.
'We'd like to get to Bedlam,' Kineshka said.
'Oh. S'pose you'll be wanting the portal, then,' the Bleaker said, and waved vaguely towards a number of nearby doors. 'The portal is only open some of the time. Usually every other day, every four hours, for about 25 minutes. It'll probably open in about half an hour, and the key's depressing thoughts. You should just stand over there and think them until the way opens for you.'
Kineshka handled most of this, with dark, brooding thoughts. She was used to this kind of thing. Eventually, the portal opened and the three travelled to the Outlands. An hour's walk spireward put them in the middle of a large plain, with no contact nearby to meet them. Shortly, though, a great black dragon appeared in the sky. As it gently floated towards the ground, not moving its wings, they could make out the riggings of a ship on the back of the beast - this was Neverest, a planar pirate ship made out of the corpse of an ancient dragon. Upon landing, a rather dashing man gracefully made his way down a foreleg to the ground, and motioned for a small crane to lower a wooden crate to the ground next to him.
'Ho there!' the man said, approaching the party with the crate. 'I'm Harvock, and ye must be the lads Estevan sent to get this.' He patted the crate for emphasis.
'What's in it?' Tick asked, eyeing the crate.
'This is a very special cargo, which only I can provide,' Harvock replied. 'I don't know what they're doing down in Nethros - some kind of psychic place - but they be needin' some sleep. And that's what I've got for 'em.' Tick seemed dubious. He again patted the crate, then set it on the ground. 'I'm told I'm to be paid when Estevan can confirm you've gotten the stuff.' He stood, looking at the three reptiles expectantly.
When Kineshka reached out to touch the crate, Harvock nodded, apparently satisfied, and strode back to his dragon-ship. It departed as abruptly as it arrived. Red scanned the box, discerning that it contained a number of magical auras inside, but lacked the knowledge to discern what kind. Tick shook the box experimentally, and was rewarded with the sound of well-cushioned glass objects occasionally clinking against each other.
Back to Bedlam, then, to the permanent portal to Pandemonium within. Bedlam is built on a hill, with the portal at the base of a great tower at the bottom of the hill, like a clawed hand reaching out of Pandemonium to find solace in the considerably saner Outlands. Madness and wind seem to radiate out from the portal, with the town being notably more organised and safer near the top of the hill. The three ignored the various muggings, murders, and riots on their way to the destination. Once at the portal, they entered.
The first thing they noticed was the wind. It blew, bone-jarringly and mind-rattlingly, constantly through the tunnels. A quickly uttered prayer by Kineshka removed the worst effects of the wind, though, and they travelled through the tunnels in relative peace. After half an hour of travel, they could faintly make out a howling sound that didn't originate from the wind. The sound followed them for about ten minutes until they could make out, beyond the light of Red's flaming ranseur, a small pack of howlers stalking them. Tick abruptly moved the light from Red's weapon to the howlers, though, and that seemed to frighten them off.
Another hour of travel brought them to a larger tunnel, in which a river spiralled around the tunnel, following a strange gravity attracting it to what seemed to be the walls and ceiling. Tick and Kineshka immediately recognised it as the River Styx, renowned across the planes as a destroyer of memory. Tick also recalled the marraenoloths, a race of yugoloth whose only purpose seems to be patrolling the Styx and providing passage for paying travellers. As they sat to wait for a marraenoloth to sail by, Tick started pondering the value of Styx water. Surely, something so dangerous would be worth something to somebody. Opening a glass vial, he leaned over the river to take a sample. Unfortunately, the rock was slightly slippery so close to the river, and an almost maliciously timed gust of wind knocked Tick off balance. Luckily, he was able to grab a bit of rock to prevent himself from falling in. Unluckily, he dipped his arm into the Styx almost up to his elbow.
Red and Kineshka looked at Tick worriedly as he sat on the bank of the river, vial of Styx water in hand, foul-smelling oily ichor dripping from his arm. 'Are you okay?' Red asked.
Tick looked confused, as though he wasn't sure he was the one being addressed. When Red repeated the question, Tick asked, 'Who, me?'
'Yes, you. Are you all right?'
'Of course. Who are you?'
Red and Kineshka shook their heads sadly. Tick's memory had been wiped. Over the next twenty minutes, Red explained to Tick what he knew about the kobold's life, starting with, 'Your name is Tick. You're a mercenary.'
The review was interrupted by a faint mist creeping up along the river. It slowly became thicker and more voluminous, until a shadowy form became visible in the mist. The fog faded, abruptly, to reveal a skeletal boatman on a raft - a marraenoloth had arrived, chuckling as its gaze fell on Tick.
'We want to go to Nethros, the psionic academy,' Red said.
'Three to Phlegethon,' the yugoloth said in a dry voice, then stared at them expectantly.
Tick held up a gold coin. The marraenoloth continued to just stare.
'I think he wants more,' Red said.
'More than this?' Tick asked, apparently confused by that thought.
'What would the standard rate be?' Kineshka asked.
'Three to Phlegethon. The "standard", as you call it, would be three hundred coins,' the marraenoloth said.
'Three hundred of those?' Kineshka asked, indicating Tick's gold piece. The marraenoloth nodded.
'Two hundred ninety!' Tick shouted.
'We don't want to negotiate with this guy,' Red said.
'Why not?' Tick asked.
'I'll explain on the way,' Red said. At the implications of Tick's memory loss, the fiend chuckled again.
Kineshka paid the fare, in the form of pearls, and Red tipped him three platinum pieces. 'You may board,' the yugoloth announced.
The three arrived at Phlegethon, presumedly, and Red and Tick disembarked, Red having explained that if you don't pay marraenoloths enough, they tend to leave you somewhere other than where you wanted to go. Kineshka remained on the raft. 'Can anything be done about our friend?' she asked.
The marraenoloth chuckled again. 'Perhaps. You would need to speak to someone more than a boatman, though.'
'Well, anything can be had if you've enough money,' Kineshka said.
'The price is more than gold. But you have the right idea. If you are important or bold enough to seek out others of my kind, something may be had for you.'
Kineshka stepped off the raft. 'Well, goodbye,' she said, but her farewell was directed to nothingness.
A short time travelling further through the tunnels led them to a large cavern, in which the wind was strangely dampened. In the cavern was a large monastery, forged from wood and crystal. Flanking the wide steps up to the main entrance were two red, crystalline golems. As the three approached, a light appeared inside the chest of each golem, and a faint purple glow surrounded Tick. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't make the light around him dissipate. Shortly, three people emerged from the monastery. The light around Tick and in the golems winked out.
The tall, older man spoke. 'Ah, you must be the deliverymen from Estevan. Wonderful, wonderful.' The boy, standing on his left, looked at Tick strangely, and beckoned the older man down to speak with him. Tick, immensely curious, made the sound of their conversation come to him, triggering a glow to erupt into being inside the crystal golems. He was able to discern that they spoke of Tick, and were saying something about 'empty', before the older man looked his way and summarily dismissed Tick's manifested power. After another few seconds of conversation, he directed the boy to go collect the crate and take it inside.
'You're a group of psionic people, aren't you?' Kineshka asked.
The girl, standing to the man's right, nodded. 'We are.'
'Our friend lost his memory. Can you fix that?'
'Maybe.' The girl looked up to the older man entreatingly, and he nodded.
'Show the other two to some rooms,' he told her. 'I'll take a look at your friend,' he said to the group.
Tick was led to a chamber deep within Nethros, and directed to sit in a large stone chair. Along the way, the older man had asked Tick his name, what happened to him, and what he was able to remember. Although doubtful if he could help, he vowed to try. After nearly an hour of psionic probing, the old man shook his head. 'I'm sorry. Your memories are just... not there anymore.'
'Where'd they go?' Tick asked.
'I suspect the river stole them, and swept them away in its waters.'
'Oh!' Tick fished out his vial of Styx water. 'Could they be in here?'
The man regarded the vial, clearly intrigued. 'I will see. That will take time, though. Show Tick to his room.' This last comment was directed at a dromite who had appeared in the doorway, almost as though he knew he'd be needed at just that time.
Helxan had found two of them, but he couldn't get to the third yet. It would be too dangerous to get that close to himself. This was definitely the group, though - his memory had served him well. He always did have an impeccable sense of time. Ah, there he is. That's all three. There were others, of course, but only three had come to Nethros that day. If only he could interfere, yet. Perhaps never knowing about the secrets Ice held would mean they'd never walk that path, and... but no. It was too early to affect change. All Helxan could do now was watch. It'd be almost a day before they went back to Sigil.
Late that evening, Tick was summoned back to the room with the large stone chair. 'I was able to retrieve some memories from the water,' the older man said, 'but I think only one of them was yours.'
'Were the other ones good?' Tick asked.
'One of them was... interesting,' he said. As though musing to himself, he continued. 'Maybe it would be best to give it to you... yes, that's probably a good idea.' Perhaps somebody else would know what it meant.
Tick stood in the middle of a snowy pine forest. He was negotiating with two fox-people, something about their rescue and freedom. An indeterminate period of time later, Tick and the two fox-people were in a big city, and one of the fox-people gave Tick the chain from its necklace. Tick was very happy about this. Another indeterminate period of time later, Tick was inside a windowless room, hanging his new chain on a peg on the wall. Plenty of other great things were in the room, and Tick knew they were all his.
A man sat in a big city, eating lunch and discussing a new business venture with another man.
A tall, winged man, clearly some kind of celestial, stood in a cold place, surrounded by snow and ice. In a huge sheet of ice before him are frozen massive winged creatures, apparently celestial in origin and incredibly ancient. The winged man is in awe, and trying to figure out what these things could be, when suddenly a number of other people appear, wolf-people and cat-people and a single bear-person. The wolf-people and cat-people beat the winged man into submission, and tie him up. An indeterminate period of time later, the man is on a vast, wasted plain. In the distance two armies of fiends move to clash with each other. The man is surrounded by jackal-headed fiends, who toss him, still bound, into a dirty, oily river that cuts across the plain.
'I'm sorry, that's all I am able to restore to you,' the older man told Tick. 'I think, if you could find the source of the Styx, where all the memories it steals must flow to... although, that would likely mean dealing with the yugoloths, which I wouldn't advise.'
Tick, though, knew something more important. He had to find that room, and get his stuff.
Upon returning to Sigil, Red asked at Madam Fastindatius' Interplanar Mercenary Service if they could do anything for Tick. They said they couldn't, but they would contact the Free League about him. An hour later, an Indep who apparently knew Tick came, and took him to the Fierce Ethyk, an Indep-owned inn on the edge of the Great Bazaar, where they have a room for him until he gets himself settled. Tick and Kineshka spent the next few days searching Sigil for Tick's house (through clever use of divination spells), but to no avail - apparently Tick guarded his domicile well against intrusion. They do have one lead, though - the Indeps knew Tick lived somewhere in the Lower Ward, near the border to the Hive.