Sigil: City of Doors

OOC Basic Info
Dorian is Aasimar by game engine, although his race are not related to celestials. They abilities, attributes, and appearance are similar enough though to cause confusion. They call themselves simply "The people". There are no other intelligent races on the homeworld.

Dorian is a Cleric/Doomguide.

Short and stocky, with grey skin, and bald head. His race tend to be short and stocky although the bald head is simply shaven and a feature of the priest class there.

He dresses in Black robes with armour underneath and a hood, and a silver mask upon his face. He wields a Bastard Sword and Shield in combat.

Home Plane: Original name unknown, now referred to as Deadworld. A largely hot and dusty world with only a small temperate band good for the growing of crops and food. Enough food for the populace was always a problem.... at least for the poor anyway. The priesthood rarely lacked for anything.
Religion: Only one god exists that they were aware of, who had control of the people. An evil god of the Sun called Helios (not to be confused with the Greek god/titan of the same name).

A little IC background story
Dorian stood panting behind the barred door, sounds of banging coming from the other side. He was under siege with only one way out, and not one he was eager to take. The doors would not last for long under the assault. The most unnerving thing was the silence of those assaulting, but there again, the living dead do not tend to chatter.

He reflected upon the foolishness of his people and especially of the priesthood he was part of. Helios had demanded sacrifices in large numbers and Dorian and his fellows were only too willing to serve. Heretics were thrown into the Fires of Helios... the same exit he was now contemplating. Others were killed in orgies of blood and violence to the glory of Helios. As the available workforce declined over the centuries and number of people available to work the fields to feed the ever expanding priesthood dropped they had turned to animating the corpses of the dead to work the fields and perform all the manual labour.

Over the last few decades the population of his people had basically been winnowed down to the point where there were three equally sized groups. The priesthood who ruled all with an iron fist. The "cattle" as they were called by the priesthood, the general populace mainly lived simple easy lives, until they were selected to be sacrificed to Helios, or called to serve in the Great Temple, either as servants or as objects to use for sex or other pleasures by the priests. And the final group were the undead, under the control and direction of the priests who also acted as the standing army, used to put down rebellions and the like.

The priests called themselves Judges. They were more. They were judge, jury, and executioners. If one of the cattle spoke out of turn, or even looked the wrong way at one of the Judges they would find themselves judged guilty of offending a priest and summarily executed. Protests against such actions were rare... the people lived in a constant state of fear from the Judges.

The Judges were happy with this state of affairs, until just a few days ago something changed. What caused it was cause for much speculation. The undead stopped obeying orders. They stood still refusing to acknowledge the Judges for some time. Many were destroyed by enraged priests but none reacted. And then, all together the undead reacted, they started to kill everyone and anyone in sight. Many speculated that a leader had emerged among the undead... an idea met with scorn by most as the undead were mainly incapable of independent thought. Instruct an undead to start digging a hole and it would continue until it fell into the molten core of the plane. Others suggested one of the Judges had turned rebel and taken over the undead. This idea warranted some consideration, although none could think who may have done so.

The Great Temple was fortunately fairly clear of undead as the Judges preferred to use their own people as servants. In the streets of the city it was carnage though. People ripped apart in droves. Judges trapped outside, the gates having been barred quickly, frantically turned and destroyed undead by their thousands, but more came on until the Judges in the streets weakened and were eventually overwhelmed.

Then, less than a day ago, the fighting stopped. All that was left of Dorian's people were the Judges and servants left in the Temple. The streets were crowded with the living dead all converging on the last remaining living beings on the planet.

The Judges waited, some cast spells destroying the undead below in droves, but more always came. Finally they broke through the gates through sheer applied pressure of numbers, those at the front crushed like pancakes by those behind. The first few rows of undead simply fell twitching to the floor as the ranks behind swarmed over them.

The Judges had decided to make a stand in front of the main temple doors, Chief Judge Erik at the front.

The fighting was horrific, the servants had been armed for the first time in their lives fell quickly, but the Judges also fell once their power to turn the undead waned. Many fell to their knees praying to Helios to save them, but Helios did not answer. In fact, over the last few years the voice of Helios had been less and less heard, and Dorian could not remember the last time he had hear the voice of his God, nor any of his fellows mentioning they had had a vision or heard a voice either....

Dorian had fought furiously and with passion until he was one of the last remaining. Then it was down to just him and a fellow Judge. A friend of sorts. As the undead closed for the kill, Dorian considered his options and decided it was time to take the only way out. To buy himself a window of opportunity he grabbed his fellow Judge and pushed him into the surrounding undead, and with that stepped through the door to the great temple and barred it behind himself.

Now he stood waiting for the doors to be broken, or for his courage or panic to grow strong enough in order to step through into the fires of Helios.

The Fires of Helios was actually some form of portal. When opened it always gave a hazy image, one of fires burning over a hazy wasted landscape. Shapes moving, often in the distance, sometimes close, evil twisted creatures they appeared, they were believes to be the servants of Helios. They always seemed ignorant of the portal though, which was always of relief to the priests. The realm of Helios was indeed a terrible place. Many believed it to be their actual sun, although this was hotly disputed.

Dorian had not been entirely unprepared before the assault on the Great Temple started. He had always held the portal as a possible escape route, something he presumed most of his bretheren would never have considered. Only heretics go into the Fires, and they were not heretics. But Dorian had also thought about the lack of direction in recent years from their God. What had happened? Was Helios angry with them? No, if so he would have let it be known, as he had done in the past, raining stone and fire on them. No, he was either weakened, died, or had left them. Regardless of which, the portal to the fires may be safe enough to go through.

He had gathered together some potions that he thought may be useful. Protection against fire was easy, potions and creams providing protection against the hottest fires were always available. Fire was an occupational hazard in the priesthood. Also the spontaneous creation of it was useful without resorting to magic, and so he had gathered some alchemist fire as well, as undead burn well. Finally he had located a potion of invisibility, the lesser undead being unable to see invisible beings, and he hoped the beings on the other side of the portal also were not able.

He took a step further back towards the portal, just as the doors smashed open. He quickly quaffed two potions protecting him from fire and granting invisibility, spoke the words that would open the portal for a short period of time.

The fires and shapes in the smoke appeared as usual, and at the last moment, before the undead reached him, he dived through the portal. It may have been his imagination, but he though he heard someone shout his name from behind just as he entered, but he dismissed it... the undead had killed all except him.

He stood in the wasteland, the land of his god, or so he had always been taught. He knew he couldn't stay here though for long. The potions would not last forever. Either he would soon burn, or cast further spells to protect himself from fire, or his invisibility would wear off.

However, after moving forward for a minute he found himself out of flames and on rocky but not burning land. At least burning to death became less of a concern. He estimated he had less than an hour of invisibility left. He started to move quicker.

After 15 minutes of walking as quickly as he dared though the wasteland, and beginning to despair that soon he would be revealed and then in an unwinnable fight for his life, the smoke cleared a little and he spotted a group of people fighting some of the beings. At first he thought they may be some of his own people who had had the same idea he had and gone ahead before he, but as he approached he knew this to be not true.

They were four of them. Dressed in a bizarre array of clothing and armour. But it was their faces. Their skins were different colours. One had slanted eyes, another was massively tall and ugly and heavily muscled. They were not of his people... he didn't know what they were. But what he realized is here were enemies of the denzines of these planes, and therefore hopefully they had a way out, or at least a place here which was safe from the creatures.

The others finished killing off the creatures and one said to the others that they should return to the portal and go back to "the Cage". Another portal! He followed the party not too close so they would hear his footsteps, and within a couple of minutes they passed over a couple of bridges, and went down into a hole in the ground. Dorian followed and found himself in a room, and in the center of the room was a pillar of fire. Seemingly unconcerned the party approached the pillar and stepped into it.

Dorian wondered if these being were immune to fire, but as he approached the pillar he felt the fire did not give off any heat, so taking a deep breath he stepped through... into a courtyard. It just so happened that his invisibility wore off just before he entered and as he emerged one of the party looked behind.

"Oh, you were also hunting in the Abyss? We didn't see you there. Shame, you could have joined us, an extra sword is always useful" the stranger said in a dialect of his own tongue, but one so strange that it took him several moments to work out what was said.

Not knowing what to really make of this statement he simply nodded and grunted.

The party carried on, obviously seeing nothing wrong in his appearance or presence, and he followed them, through some sort of barracks, and finally out into a city... a strange and wonderous city.

And this is how Dorian came to Sigil.

For the next few days Dorian quietly asked questions and then spent several days studying in the Library, learning all he could about everything... so much knowledge. So much he and his people did not even know. They never knew about the other planes. They never knew about so much, other races, cultures.... so much life... and so much rotten and decaying as well. Entropy will win in the end of course, but there was a lot more than he imagined to the "multiverse", a lot more of infinity to decay... well, entropy also had infinite time in which to work as well.

He now also had an answer as to what may have happened to his god, maybe his god had tired of his people and left for another realm. Maybe here he could find answers to this question. He still had his powers, his powers flowed from his god.... his god must live. He could serve him once again.

He spent some time studying the factions of the city, and finally found one that suited his temperament and life philosophy. The Doomguard believe entropy will consume all. Well, he had first hand experience of this on his homeworld, now a ruined world in the grip of the undead. He would tell these Doomguards about his world and it will be a sign that the march of entropy continues apace.

Upon joining the Doomguard Dorian throws himself into all available lore that the Doomguard possess. Tomes that are not available to the general public and copies of which are not necessarily found outside the Doomguards care.

He discovers, after speaking with a number of Doomguards, about the factions within factions. At one level there are the Sinkers, the Destroyers, and the Regulators. But these are even further... distilled... into other groups, some which span not only the sub-factions, but spread across factions.

One that catches his attention is the Harbringers. They seek out death legends of worlds... armageddons, apocolypses, end of times... and see what it takes to bring these events to fruition.

His own world, before its destruction, had no prophecies at all, and this fascinates Dorian. Is it possible to control events on a world to the point where you can simply make an event happen, and the whole world will be destroyed in line with prophecy? It certainly bears investigating. He followed up by reading as many tomes as possible from the library and elsewhere on end-of-times prophecies from different primes.

While he is also studying he spends time working in the armoury, learning the trade of weapon making. It seemed somehow fitting that he do this, and besides, it was good exercise. His life as a Judge had left him soft and running to fat.

((OOC note: Gained a couple of levels tonight and stuck several skill points into Craft weapon and Lore to reflect what he is doing)).

Upon one of these "studying" jaunts that seems to be becoming part of the newly minted Doomguard's routine, he finds something rather interesting awaiting him at the end of the section where most of these apocalyptical tales reside: a bottle of cyan-hued wine, a label in a flowing elven script upon it, and a ribbon around the sealed bottle's neck connecting it to a small journal, a strip of parchment acting as a bookmark with "for the Literary Sinker" written upon it in the common tongue.

The journal itself, although written in a somewhat stilted derivation of elvish, lends itself easily to translation; this is the Hall of Records, after all. Before the bookmark, the journal seems to record a rather humdrum life, reflections of a rather naive scion of what would seem a noble house. But from where the place is marked, a tale of ever-increasing horrors is documented, the guileless tone of the writing turning quickly to terror, to despair, to tired resignation as the tale goes on: evil set loose upon an unready land, cities laid to ruin and deep woodlands turned to barren wastelands, and the slow but certain retreat of that world's native elven population until the writer skulked alone through a lifeless world full of otherworldly terrors. Eventually, the tale ends without resolution, but on the page after that ending, the same hand that wrote upon the bookmark can be found again.

"Anything can be had for one willing to pay the proper price. The Foul Olde Spirit Inn, room ten."

"So, I am under observation?" Dorian thinks to himself.

Well, not surprising being new to the organization. He had done the same many times, keeping an eye on newly initiated Judges.

The story itself was fascinating, and the parallels to his own life and escape from his dying world were compelling.

The bottle of wine was a nice touch, but having been used to the scheming and manipulation in the Citadel of Judgement, he emptied a small amount into a flask and went into the street and gave it to a beggar. If the beggar lives, then he will drink the bottle later. If he dies, well no loss, and he knows to be cautious about this visit to the Inn...

For regardless of the result, his curiosity had been piqued. He will visit the inn, but he will keep his sword loose in its sheath.

Dorian had visited the Inn room, but nobody answered. Until the mysterious personage put in an appearance, he would contend himself with other matters.

He had spent the day profitably, and decided to relax for a while at Khazeets and see if there were any potential recruits for the Doomguard.

While there he met a Tiefling by the name of Mir. He spent some time with her discussing the nature and future of the universe, and while some of her views seemed to cross over with that of the Doomguard, some seemed incompatible. Before this could be explored further Hildmor d'Kridis appeared on the scene, and Dorian decided to postpone the rest of this discussion for some other time.

Before leaving Dorian complimented Mir on her appearance and her breasts, saying she reminded him of a slave he once owned.

It seemed as though Sigil was a good location to find new recruits to the Doomguard. So much in decay, and the people seemed to be decaying also.... a rebirth surely was imminent.

Dorin spends some time in the armoury discussing with his new colleagues how to recruit more to the cause.

He relates how he has had some interest, especially from a female Tiefer who may have what it takes to become a Sinker.

He also asks if anyone knows a Sensai Teuso. He encoutered this black Tiefer in Muriel's and he claimed to be either an ex-Doomguard or someone only loosely affiliated with it.... even implying he worked for a higher power, which seemed unlikely.

Factotum Cromlich notes to Dorien to keep an eye on the Ex-Sinker, he also notes that anyone claiming to be a Sinker, especially a "former" Sinker would need to be observed with extreme caution...

Furthermore, Cromlich humors the idea that should this Doomguard be genuinley former to the cause, he'd like Dorian to take the appropriate measures in... removing the unwanted equasion. After all, sinkers have a reputation to keep...

...One didnt "really" think they could "leave" the Doomguard did they? Least of all, not without having contributed themselves towards entropy unquestioningly.

Dorian is reassured by Ely Cromlich that there will be a substantial reward if the matter is investigated, and handled discreetly, if worst comes to worst.

Dorian nods in response to Ely's words. He will keep his eyes open for this so-called ex-Doomguard.

Dorian reported to Factotum Cromlich about his dealing with the Sensai claiming to be a Doomguard.

He had met with the Sensai and bloodshed had been avoided. While the Sensai claimed a philosophical alignment with that of the Doomguards, although a different perspective on how things should be achieved, he was not a Doomguard, and never was.

Dorian presented him with several options, the first, to never again refer to himself as a Doomguard in any shape or form, the second, to join the Doomguard, and third, to persist and face unpleasant consequences.

This third option was of course the most risky. Dorian had done his research and knew the Sensai was a dangerous creature, easily capable of destroying one such as himself. However, the Sensai backed down under Dorian's carefully explained consequences to his choice, and agreed to never call himself a Doomguard again.

It was a shame that the Sensai could not be recruited to the cause, but it appears he is more of a loner... something perhaps the Doomguards can use to their advantage at a later date.

Dorian also reports on his recruiting efforts. One who he had spoken to before had already rejected overtures from the Hamonium and Mercykillers. While so far not ready to commit to the Doomguards, she has considered that working together from time to time may be of mutual advantage. Dorian will maintain a relationship here to see what blossoms. Dorian understood she was an assassin of some kind, and having an assassin working with the Doomguards, who is not a member could be a useful thing... after all, an assassin can be nicely used to further the cause of entropy, and yet, if they are not a member but working towards our aims, we can always wash our hands of any association if something goes wrong.

The other was even more interesting. A (/tell)epathic link :D with an as yet unknown individual inquired at length about the Doomguards and their objectives. After a lengthy discussion the contact was broken, but Dorian was left with the feeling that the individual seemed interested in joining the organization. He would await further contact on this.

An amused Ely Cromlich, hearing the news of Dorian's exploits would send forwards word directly to Pentar herself, having found a new promising candidate not since the time of The Ashen's rise.

In the meantime, he would also be interested to hear more of Dorians potential recruit and what he planned to do about it.

It had also come to Ely's attention that various activities in Sigil were begining to show promise for certain... opportunities, to be exploited. Naturally, Factotum Cromlich put his new eager Namer to work and had Dorian investigate these matters instructing him thus:

"Ive heard chant, my fellow friend, that there is a story of The Unseelie having a little banter with The Seelie. Now if such rumors and gossip are true then we have a most promising opportunity to make ourselves welcome guests into the Unseelies fine company. You see Dorian, anything, even a fluttery humanoid-butterfly can still have a contribution to Entropy, and if my rumors are true, the Unseelie have a very prominant prize they are searching for.

The story is that the Unseelie are engaging in a feirce battle with their pureblood counterparts to corrupt a sacred, powerful well of almost unimaginable entropic potential. The well is said to grant any pureblood fey a wish of anything they so desire, and if the story is correct, our fluttery companions want to defile it and make it available to more outsider and public interests...

You understand that such a well in the "Right hands" could do so many wonderful things, Dorian, do what you have to, find out where it is, take it, its going to be "ours" my friend and we are going to have some FUN!"

After laughing manically, Cromlich sent Dorian on his way.