Update 3-5-04
And now, one week later, just like clockwork, I update again. Hope you enjoy part 2 of 3 of Clueless's intro:
Tarelia led Clueless from the Clerk’s Ward and into the fringes of the Hive. The air gradually became more… pungent, the buildings less kept and the persons wandering the streets more shifty, downtrodden and in some cases more fiendish.
“We’re going to the place with the memory people… right?” Clueless glanced around at the persons that passed them by, most of them either ignoring them or glaring sullenly.
The Eladrin had yet to slow down her pace since Clueless and her encounter with the Arcanaloth.
"Now, we're going to the Gatehouse, which just unfortunately happens to well, be in middle of the bleeding Hive. But yeah, it's got the people who just might be able to help your head, one way or another, being that you're not just plain barmy."
She grinned at Clueless with that final statement and her eyes glowed just a little redder to match a slow blush to her cheeks as she poked his nose. Clueless returned her grin and looked back curiously at the new surroundings unfolding around them.
Glancing up he eyed a black streak of soot extending across the sky that seemed to bubble up from overhead on the far side of the city like a black gash across the sky.
“What’s that across the ring there?”
The tout glanced up and pointed to details on the opposite side of the city, details that she could clearly see or know by experience, but that Clueless had difficulty in discerning.
“That group of smokestacks there across the ring, that’s the great foundry, haven’t been inside the gates myself since the Godsmen packed up and left, disbanded the whole lot of them when Factol Amber got mazed"
“…Godsmen? Mazed?” Clueless’s expression combined a number of questions in his confused look.
Tarelia gave a grin again and launched into a friendly rendition of her oft used lecturing mode as a tout, “Oh, one of the old factions. They ran the foundry and thought they could, anyone could, with enough hard work, ascend to divinity. Well, lets just say none of their members working the forge ever got close, in fact none of the lot did.”
"...ok.... sounds... barmy, you said the word was?"
Tarelia nodded at his use of the local cant, “And Amber got mazed, sent packing, unwilling, into a demiplane of the Lady's construction, always one way out they say, just may take you a hundred years to find it, they also say you don't age, hunger or thirst inside either... makes you wonder....I hear some Bladelings from Ocanthus run the forges now, either way business has gone smoothly.”
She paused to look down from the sky at a street sign indicating a few lackluster streets before chipping back, “And yep, barmy is the word. And don’t get too comfortable here, we’re about to hop over to the other side of
the city there and then back. I know a shortcut.”
Clueless followed down an alley before pausing with her before a boarded up window. Tarelia knelt down to retrieve a bit of broken glass from a window pane that had once graced the now covered opening and deftly cut a thin mark into the wood. It immediately glowed a fierce orange light as the boards vanished.
“Portals don’t just have to lead outside Sigil, they can go between points inside too. You first.” She motioned him through before dropping the broken glass that had served as a portal key back onto the ground.
They both stepped out into a haze of yellow, filthy air laden with soot and smog. Clueless coughed immediately as he followed her down another street. “Shortcut or not, maybe next time we can just walk a little longer?”
“Oh the air in the hive isn’t much better, just different.” She smirked and twitched her nose at the sulfurous tinge to the air from the smokestacks of the Foundry and the numerous cooking fires and workshop chimneys that dotted the tops of many of the buildings surrounding them.
Several minutes and two blocks later, she paused and pulled off onto another side street, casting sidelong glances down the previous.
“Sorry, not going down that street any more…” she muttered then, something about a friendly fiend.
“…why not?” Clueless said with a glance down the previous street.
Tarelia pointed down that way to a sign hanging above a shop a half block down. The carved and brightly painted sign read, “A’kin’s The Friendly Fiend. Magical Curiosities and Treasures of the Planes.”
“…isn’t that an oxymoron?” Clueless raised an eyebrow. “My last two run ins with fiends didn’t give me a super great impression of them you know…”
She shrugged, “The OTHER resident 'loth in Sigil. I don't know which I'd rather choose not to be involved with, at least Shemeska acts like you’d expect. And I've never seen A'kin get angry, or yell, or be mean, makes me trust him even less..."
Clueless nodded before coughing slightly to get rid of some of the soot.
As the two continued walking, the air became clearer of soot, but the smell became worse as the buildings slowly transitioned from utilitarian stone and wood to more beat up, ramshackle tenements and hovels. Every so often, a burbling puddle of muck dotted the road, each of them given a wide berth by any passers by.
“…I should really start watching where I step shouldn’t I…?” Clueless glanced down at his bare feet and then nervously at the burbling puddles, consciously avoiding them.
"Ooze portals, watch 'em, they like to send bloods on a one way trip to the inner planes, and one of the least pleasant ones. Half of them are bricked over, but not all of them. And we're in the Hive now, so watch yourself. Least it's not the slags..."
As they continued into the Hive the population of fiends and fiendspawn slowly increased and the dwellings became poorer. The number of beggars, and potential thieves grew, not to mention drunks and the occasional corpse.
"... okie." murmured Clueless - quieter now and shifting the bundled up sword on his back just the slightest so, that in the event of a fight, it would be more accessible.
As they passed one of the corpses, they watched it being rapidly picked clean of anything remotely valuable by a few rag-covered humans and tieflings who then begin to drag the body onto a rude cart drawn by ragged and skeletally thin horses. Clueless’s eyes grew wide as they walked past the scene and he found himself tracking the event out of surprise.
Tarelia soon motioned down another street which they took deeper into the Hive, avoiding several fights along the way in the middle of the street between what appeared to be rival gangs, or in one case, street urchins fighting over what might have been called food in the very loosest sense of the word. But some time later, rising over the top of the local buildings off a few blocks they could see the spires and towers of possibly the largest building Clueless had seen in Sigil, or most anywhere else. Solid, black, and forbidding.
Tarelia pointed out the huge structure as soon as it came into full view, "There's the gatehouse, as depressing as the inhabitants."
"Oh. So that's what that is." Clueless gazed at the gargantuan central tower and the two wings extending out to its sides like the wings of a gigantic looming dragon. He felt a little baffled at the numbers of people that waited or milled about at the base of the building, but he felt at once both out of place and not out of place in the shadow of the towers. "I have to wonder = is the architect still alive..." Clueless said dryly.
"I sure hope not... nobody who's still around knows who actually built it, or why, just that the Bleakers used it, and still do, though they dropped the name and stayed mostly the same. They do good work, even if they lack a bit in the personality department. Not as bad as the Dusties though."
As they walked closer they noticed lines of rag clothed persons of various races entering the structure through several lines leading towards the main central tower and its truly massive rusted iron gate. Some of the people stood apparently in line for food, others for reasons unknown. All in all, the Gatehouse had the look of a giant homeless shelter and soap kitchen.
Drawing closer towards the outer walls though, from the wailing coming from several of the towers closest to the streets, it served as a giant asylum as well. Screams and shrieks echoed out across the street from several high, barred windows, drawing Clueless’s wary gaze, but none of the other persons milling about the base of the walls or waiting in the block long lines seemed to give it any heed.
He shook his head and looked over to Tarelia, "What kinda work do they do here?"
"Unthanked work, but good work nonetheless. They take care of the poor, the hungry, the sick, the barmy. I like their work, don't like their philosophy though. They don't think the universe has a purpose, that there's no grand plan for anything."
"So they just do good stuff... just because?"
She nodded back in the affirmative, "Because they think that in the absence of any meaning in the world, they only way to find any meaning is to find it within yourself. Even if that's meaningless. I don't get them, like I said."
As he looked over at his guide, Clueless noted a small tattoo on her left shoulder. He couldn’t make out much detail though as it seemed obscured by either a scar or a burn. He made a note to ask her about it later. Lost in that thought he nearly stumbled over a loose cobblestone in the courtyard as they walked across it, avoiding the lines.
Tarelia moved away from the main lines and off towards a gated entrance beside one of the smaller towers. As they approached she paused to palm something to one of the guards who nodded at her and motioned them both through past the open portcullis to his rear into an open-air courtyard.
Long strides and echoing footfalls heralded a robed, dour looking human who approached from another entrance to the courtyard. He nodded to them both patiently before asking, "May I help the both of you my children?"
"... um, Hi. I..." Clueless glanced at Tarelia, unsure how to handle the situation and greeting. Finally with a blush he nodded to her slightly "...I don't know my name."
She motioned towards him at the prompt, "Yes actually, my friend here, while he's not actually one of the Clueless, he took a blow to the head in Hopeless. And, well, he's lost his memory of who he is, or how he ended up where he did."
The man nodded and listened to Tarelia recount the story, glancing up into Clueless’s eyes periodically and giving him the odd impression that he was looking right through him a few of those times.
At the conclusion of the story he nodded, betraying little emotion on his long face, "Perhaps I can help, follow me if you will."
Having said that he swept one of his arms to the side over towards a smaller entryway leading deeper into the building’s interior. Accompanying Clueless and Tarelia he walked them down the dimly lit, mildly damp corridor to a small office, that was sparsely furnished with little more than a chair, a bookcase set with a number of book and bottles, and a single burning torch with a flickering blue-white light.
Clueless followed like a puppy, still awkwardly gaping and looking at everything.
The man motioned for Clueless to sit, “Please be seated if you would, this should not take very long.”
As Clueless got comfortable in the offered chair, for the first time he noticed that the man’s face was not quite normal for a human. His facial bones were more elongated than normal, his hair stringier, and his skin more sallow in the light.
As the man wrote several notes down within a journal or log book at his desk, Clueless sat down, taking the moment to wriggle his toes against the floor while absently watching him. Finally the man turned and walked over to place a hand on Clueless’s forehead. Carefully he took his patient’s right hand with the other and began to murmur to himself in a language Clueless couldn’t recall having heard before.
"mm." Clueless’s eyes half drifted shut, a sleepy look crossing his face as the Bleaker spoke, the words making his head feel drowsy and his hearing like everything was being filtered through a thick layer of cotton. The Bleaker’s eyes gradually began to shift from the solid shiny black that they were, to a cloudy, swirling pattering of duller black and milky gray as he continued to intone.
As he continued to speak in the same strange language, Clueless began to hear his voice within his head, but clearly, and in planar common.
"This is strange, but not unprecedented. Your memories have not been stolen from you by injury, though an injury you did receive. Rather, your memories have been blocked by magical means, and by one of no small skill in such matters. I will attempt to remove that which was placed in your mind, however my removal of it may not be entirely complete, and it may only come back fully with time. You may soon see flashes of memory as I attempt this."
There was a sudden flash of light in Clueless’s mind's eye, a bit of resistance imagined rather than felt, and an image came unbidden to him, one of several.
Clueless stood upon a battlement in the midst of a raging battle, an army of Tanar’ri stretched out across the plane before him, battered and mindlessly hurling themselves at the Baatezu fortress and its seemingly impenetrable defenses. The fiendish commander of the Baatezu forces began to bellow an order out to his forces, but paused, sensing motion behind itself. Before it fully turned Clueless drove home the point of his greensteel sword through the chest of the Cornugon. As it collapsed to the stone of the battlement, a dim glimmer of recognition flickered in its eyes as it comprehended the betrayal.
- Another flash and another image –
A hairless, gargoyle-like, dog headed fiend nodded in his direction, or rather to someone behind him, as Clueless fell forwards onto the ground and his vision faded to black under a deep, crimson red sky.
- A third flash and a third image –
Clueless walked under an archway that he dimly comprehended at present to have been under the ruins of the Shattered Temple. His companions exchanged nervous, wary glances, and seemed kept in place only by the considerable profit to be made on this scavenger hunt as he had called it. Suddenly then a flash of light burned out from an adjoining passage and the scene faded.
- A forth flash and a forth image –
Clueless sat in a bar, sipping on a deep amber colored ale, listening to the tales of a drunken bariaur sitting next to him. The bariaur kept going on and on about the same night in Arborea that he’d heard him speak of many a times before, but he just let him keep talking, it made the Ysgardian happy, and to be honest, he was happy too.
- A fifth flash, and a fifth image –
The sky was a burning crimson red overhead, cloudless and Clueless could see the distant orbs on the far off horizon. But that is not what drew his gaze as he and his companions were led along, unwilling, but rather the massive hexagonal tower breaking through the red stone bedrock of the valley before them to jut up into the sky. Black, forbidding, and seemingly woven through with iron spikes like thorns on a rose bush.
A single thought raced through Clueless’s mind in the present, echoed by one in the past, “This cannot be good.”
- A sixth flash and a final haunting image before he awoke –
Clueless rested in a darkened room, surrounding by cold thin air and shadows. Out in the darkness he could hear the sounds of barefooted, clawed feet on the smooth chilled stone floor. A deep, resounding, and mirth filled voice whispered into his ear, whiskers brushing against his face, "Any deal can be made, but all that matters is the price to be paid. No? Payment is due."
The words in the memory were similar, but not exact to the words spoken to him earlier in the day in the Clerk’s Ward by Shemeska the Marauder. However the voice was NOT hers in the last memory. The voice was masculine and even in a memory sent shudders through his mind like trickles of ice freezing across a still running river. The memory alone left him feeling cold and befouled by its presence, and solely on account of the voice.
“I was a REAL crazy sob… her voice?… no… Damn…uh oh…” the thoughts and implications of the recovered memories rattled around inside Clueless’s mind as he struggled to rid himself of the unsettling, and lingering feelings of corruption that had pervaded the last flashback…
Clueless blinked and opened his eyes to see the very disgruntled face of the Bleaker standing before him, his thin and knotted arms crossed in frustration.
“The block on your memories is… extremely strong. I was unable to fully remove its presence, only weaken it. Whoever placed it upon you, they exceed my own abilities. However the block does not appear to be permanent, and in time it will remove itself. My efforts will hasten this process, though I cannot tell you by exactly how much exactly. You will have to wait and accept what comes to you as it does. That is the best I can do.”
Clueless nodded slowly, still shaking off the effects of a few of the memories. “Thank you…”
He turned to Tarelia, “I think I need to just sit down somewhere and think for a while.”
She nodded back to him, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. Just follow me and you’ll be fine, right?”
She handed a few jink to the Bleaker who reluctantly accepted the payment and found her way out of the Gatehouse with Clueless following alongside her.
“Are you ok? You look nervous. What’s coming back to you, anything?”
Clueless shivered despite the warm air surrounding the Gatehouse from the masses of the crowds, “You could say that. I was nuts. I mean I did some barmy stuff that I can’t much understand how I had those kind of balls. Seriously. And some of the stuff was disturbing. I’m not so sure I really want to remember all of it…”
Tarelia looked with concern at that last statement and led him back through the Hive and towards the Clerk’s Ward. “I have a place you can lie down for a while, don’t worry.”