Adventures in Planescaping

Selena Valentyne stared intently into the box. The box wasn’t big, only about a hand’s-width high, and half again as long. But what it contained confounded Selena. Brushing her hand up against the clear orb nestled amongst the books and ledgers neatly arrayed on the sturdy teak desk, Selena called out in a distracted voice, “Khavina.”

Even the slight distortion on the orb could not hide the beauty of the face that appeared a moment later. Pale blue skin, emphasized by her almond-shaped kohl-lined eyes. A perfectly symmetrical, heart-shaped face, complemented by a pair of full, pouty lips. Khavina looked irritated, as if she had been in the middle of doing something eminently more important. “Yes, ma’am?” she said, a tone of exasperation in her voice.

“My sandwich.”

“Yes?”

“It’s got mustard on it.”

Khavina stared back through the orb, her golden eyes flat and clearly not amused by the emerging grin at the corner of Selena’s mouth. “Of course ma’am. I’ll have the servants flogged, ma’am.” Rolling her eyes, Khavina disappeared.

Selena grinned and slapped the table. Khavina, always so serious. They must not have a sense of humour in Baator. “Or,” said Selena as she kicked off her desk and rolled precariously away, “maybe they’re not as bored as I am.”

Business had been slow for the last 3 months at Valentyne Investigations. The mysterious disappearance of her partner and friend Numor had occupied a frantic three-weeks of her life. But as the leads had dried up, Selena had to admit that more and more it seemed likely that the eclectic wizard had disappeared for his own reasons. What really hurt was that he took with him her Spelljammer, Tymora’s Luck. Without it, Selena’s travels were restricted to the Portals.

Leaning back in her chair, she stared at the quill she had thrown up into the ceiling earlier that day, contemplating her financial situation. As it currently stood, she could afford another month of operations in the City of Doors before her funds ran out. She could let Khavina go, and that might give her an extra 2 weeks or so, but that might also put her Marilith secretary in danger. A pariah among her kind, Selena had doubts whether the Lady of Pain’s edicts that kept Tanaari and Baatezu demons from attacking each other within the confines of the city could be truly enforced in the aftermath of all that had happened.

This led her to the events of two months past, and their connection to her declining financial health. Perhaps, Selena pondered, the Lady of Pain was taking some sort of action against her, for her connection with the perpetrators who had broken the Ring of Sigil and allowed the Lower Ward to disappear into oblivion. True, she had rescued them from the Ethereal Plane, and yes she had given them their first job, which led, through a series of remarkable and unfortunate events, to the sundering of the City of Doors. But if it was the Lady of Pain meting out punishment, Selena would have expected something more immediate, and certainly not a slow, and possibly unreliable, descent into insolvency.

“I bet this sandwich is the Lady’s doing as well,” she grumbled. Selena got up, strapped on her sword belt, and walked out of her office and into the lobby, where Khavina sat behind her desk.

Her blue-skinned, 6-armed, snake-tailed secretary looked up. “Going out to flog the servants personally?” she asked.

Selena walked to the front door. “What else? No, actually I need to clear my head. I’m going to work out with the Ciphers a bit, then grab a bite to eat.”

Khavina nodded absentmindedly, returning to her knitting/reading/playing with a dagger. “Watch out for the Hardheads.”

With a tip of her hat, Selena walked out the front door.


* * *


Three months ago, on the way to The Tower, the Tymora’s Luck had stumbled across four bodies, floating in some sort of suspended animation in Etherspace. The incredible improbability of such a find in the vast expanses of the Ethereal Plane had only caused a momentary pause as her crew set about bringing them aboard. Trap or no, the laws of Spelljamming dictated that she rescue such stranded cast-aways.

Numor, the Luck’s pilot, had been baffled at first, but came to the conclusion that the cast-aways were under the effects of a powerful Geas. This alarming revelation had almost convinced Selena to dump them back out into Etherspace, but in the end she gave the order to have them moved to the infirmary and monitored. They arrived at the Tower, finished their business, and even throughout the return trip to Sigil the cast-aways remained inanimate. So in the end, Selena had them moved to the upper floors of her office building.

And there they had remained for the next month, through Numor’s disappearance and Selena’s frantic investigation. And one day, they woke up. Understandably confused, a few pointed questions revealed that they had no recollection of who they were, and certainly not how they had come to be floating in the vastness of Etherspace, along her ship’s jamming route. Though the implications of the Geas still bothered her, Selena put them to work, having them follow a lead in an investigation that had come across her desk.

The events that would unfold from that investigation would have profound consequences, leading to the unmasking of a Baatezu plot to attack Sigil and wrest control of the city from the Lady of Pain. Success would have shifted power into the hands of the Baatezu, allowing the Baatezu to use the City of Doors as a staging ground for attacks into Tanaari controlled Planes and forcing some sort of outcome in the timeless Blood War that raged between the two demon factions.

The climactic foiling of this Baatezu plot by the cast-away Primes had in essence saved the city. But in doing so, the Primes had also caused a chain-reaction of explosions that had blown an entire Ward away into void that surrounded the Sigil. The sundering of the ring-like City of Doors was felt throughout the city, and Selena numbered among the astonished onlookers as, bit by bit, groaning under unseen titanic stresses, the supports holding the Lower Ward sheared one by one. Those who had not been quick enough to evacuate to adjacent wards could only look on in despair as they fell to what most people agreed was their doom.

The Primes that had been responsible for this destruction had escaped the Lower Ward but were promptly captured by agents of the Lady of Pain. No one knew exactly what happened behind the closed doors of the interrogation chambers, but despite the public outcry for some sort of justice, especially from the Doomers, Signers, and Bleakers whose Faction headquarters had been located in the Lower Ward, the Lady of Pain simply banished the cast-aways to their respective Prime Material Planes and declared them persona non grata in Sigil. Just who or what had Geased them had never been disclosed.

And so the mending of the Great Rift began. The violence of the Sundering had thrown many of the Portals into disarray. In some cases, Sigil Daboos were hard at work rebuilding Portals that had physically collapsed. In other cases they mended the connections which had become scrambled, so that travelers could once again be confident that the Portal they entered lead to their desired destination. The Great Rift itself had started to shrink as Daboos and other builders worked to reconnect the ring. But the work was far from over, and even the best estimates put a structural completion at some 6 months away. From there, the long and arduous task of restoring the infrastructure would begin, and who knew when that would be finished.

These events had changed Sigil. Faction violence had surged in the weeks following the Sundering, which prompted greater numbers of Harmonium patrols. Yet the Hardheads, themselves a Faction, could hardly count on the Lady’s support. Her policy, it seemed, was to weather the violence and let the best Factions win. If this was a strategy to reduce the number of Factions within Sigil, then it had worked. Of the nine original Factions, only the Ciphers, Sensates, and Harmonium had emerged relatively unscathed. Both the Doomers and Signers had been all but destroyed, and the faction wars hit hardest amongst the remaining Factions, the Takers, Xaositects, Bleakers, and Indeps. It was no coincidence that those Factions suffering the most from the fighting had headquarters in the Wards adjacent to the where the Lower Ward had been, and those that emerged unscathed had their headquarters in the opposite side of Sigil.


* * *


Selena strode along Bluffer’s Boulevard, aware that for the last hour, pretty much since she had left her office, someone had been tailing her. Whoever it was, they were sloppy, and probably a Planar. Or, at the very least, not used to the cloak and dagger routine when the Portals weren’t working properly.

She had managed to catch a glimpse here and there. It was a male, young, human or human-sized. Unless there were others involved, like doppelgangers or other changelings, he was alone. There was always the chance that he was a decoy for a much more skilled surveillance team, but if that was the case there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

For now, it was time to turn the tables, and find out what her tail wanted.

Bluffer’s Boulevard was fairly busy. The lunch-time crowd was milling about, looking for a place to eat. Elsewhere, stores would be closing down for siesta, but here on Bluffer’s the eateries were winding up. Even in all the hustle and bustle of the last few months, the denizens of Sigil continued to demand quality fare at reasonable prices, as only Bluffer’s Boulevard could provide.

Arnott’s Bistro had been her destination, up until she noticed her tail. The street-side courtyard under a wide canvas awning was a nice respite from some of the stuffier places that lined the street. The prices were correspondingly high, to compensate for the property costs of having an outdoor patio in a trendy, upscale, middle-class neighbourhood. But the food was good and she could always count on a corner table. Arnott was a personal friend and former comrade.

The Thri-Kreen was at his usual post, acting as maître d’. Seeing Selena, he waved a chitonous arm and called out in his trill-filled voice. “No table today, Ms. Valentyne? We have a most wonderful roast hind, straight from the Happy Hunting Grounds!” Selena waved her apologies as promises to save the best piece for her return followed her down the street.

Two store fronts later, she turned suddenly into an alleyway. It was narrow, and dark, but surprisingly clean. Moving quickly away from the street, she jumped at the wall, kicking off and up, bounding up the walls before landing quietly on the roof. Her slight blue glow of her boots quickly faded as she peeked back down into the alley, just in time to see her stalker come rushing in.

The man moved halfway down the alley before realizing that it was a dead end. He looked confusedly at the single door that graced the left wall. It was metal and rusted, and moreover secured with a heavy padlock. His head already glancing about for other exits, he moved over and gave the lock a yank to confirm that it was still locked. He swore then turned around, then came to a sudden halt. The brief flash of anger had been replaced by shocked surprise.

Selena walked calmly towards the man, her sword Icebrand emitting a pale blue glow. Drawn but held low, it a formed a trail of frost on the ground behind her.

“No need for preamble,” she said quietly. “Out with it. Why are you following me?” Her tone clearly brooked no foolishness.

The man slowly closed his mouth, where it had been hanging open. He swallowed audibly. He was younger than Selena had imagined, barely old enough to be called a man. Slightly gaunt, he wore the sort of brown-tone non-descript tunic, slacks, and cloak of a traveler. He bore no weapons, strange regardless of his origins. But plenty of people had no visible means to defend themselves, but were dangerous nonetheless. Selena maintained her pose, a relaxed stance, non-threatening, which deceptively invited attack.

The man cleared his throat. “Ms. Valentyne. I need to talk to you.”

Selena snorted. “We’ll that’s obvious. Why didn’t you come into the office? Why tail me across the city?”

“I guess not much gets by you, Ms. Valentyne.” If he was surprised that he had been noticed, it didn’t show.

“Not when the person doing it is bad at it.” Selena raised her sword a hands-breadth. “Now, answers if you please, before I put this to good use.”

The man slowly raised his hands. “I just want to talk. I have a propo…”

Selena leapt forward, loosing her other blade. Her left foot kicked out, catching the man in the chest and slamming him into the wall. Scissoring her blades across his neck, Selena stopped, inches from decapitating the man. Though she had deactivated the magick that powered her swords, the residual cold was still enough to raise steam from the man’s shock-filled face.

“Tell your master to come talk to me in person. I don’t deal with incompetent lackeys.