# Prime, Planar, Power: A Planescape Story Hour (Updated March 22nd!)



## NiTessine (Mar 13, 2004)

So, I was on a Planescape binge, and my normal group had disbanded for a holiday. I was getting gaming withdrawals. Shivering, covered in cold sweat, I did the only thing I could. I started a campaign on IRC. A Planescape campaign. A campaign that is played at 2am, my time. What a geek wouldn't do for a game...

For this campaign, I decided to test some of the rules from _Unearthed Arcana_. The rules we are using are armour as DR and Vitality/Wound Points. I feel this brings a sort of 'Hollywood realism' to the game. Reminds me of that scimitar-wielding psycho in _Raiders of the Lost Ark_.

I am only doing an intro to this story hour, for now. Kaodi, aka Dalgar Blackhammer, is the one doing the actual story hour, for the most part. I will only be the number two writer. Here they are, the intrepid heroes:

*Alys*, CN female half-elf Rogue 1
A planar, and a true Cager. She is headstrong, proud, and possessed of a fiery temper. She is a leader type, and the de facto leader of the party for the time being. Alys is also quite intelligent, and lethal in combat. Her true talent, however, lies with locks and traps, and how to get through them. 
Alys is played by Neko_Ali.

*Dalgar Blackhammer*, LG male dwarf Fighter 1
Dalgar is a dwarf from a prime world with no humans, drow, or halflings. This caused him some confusion when he first met them after stumbling through a portal to Sigil. Dalgar carries a large barrel of beer in his back. Nobody is certain why, since it impairs his movement in combat, but most are smart enough not to get between a dwarf and his ale. Dalgar fearlessly, sometimes foolhardily, wades into battle with his urgrosh.
Dalgar Blackhammer is played by Kaodi.

*Dr. Poojo*, N male halfling Rogue 1
Doctor Poojo purports to be a Professor Excommunicate of Experimental Alchemy, Academy of Greyhawk. Whatever the truth, he certainly is a clueless prime, with an unhealthy fascination with things that burn or explode. When not experimenting on new, more potent variants of alchemist's fire, the white-haired halfling may be seen sniping targets with a crossbow, or sneaking up behind them and severing their spinal columns or purse strings with his short sword.
Dr. Poojo is played by Tugex.

*Rhett*, LG male human Paladin 1 of Torm
Rhett hails from a nation called Cormyr on the prime world of Toril. He originally had to flee through what turned out to be a portal as his home village was decimated by the drow cultists of Kiaransalee. He swore his life to the service of Torm, and on the same breath, vengeance upon those who destroyed his home. While he is certainly a righteous warrior, such vengefulness in a paladin may lead to many things yet. Rhett favours a large two-handed sword in dispatching his enemies.
Rhett is played by Nightfall.

*Strontium-90*, LG modron Cleric 1 of Bahamut
Strontium-90 originally turned rogue and became an individual while in the clutches of a troupe of Krynnish tinker gnomes in the Outlands. He was experimented upon, and only saved from dismantling by a party of holy warriors in service of Bahamut. Something about such ordered benevolence struck a chord deep within the machine recesses of the box, and he soon took the rites to become the first known modron cleric of Bahamut.
Strontium-90 is played by Primus.

*Tondo Ket*, LN male bioloid Monk 1, Mercykiller
Tondo Ket was made, not born. He is a sentient mercane construct, with a personality and a drive to learn. Tondo was originally slated to be sold to the Mercykillers, but the mercane trade caravan was attacked by an astral dreadnought, and Tondo was damaged as he got flung through a portal to Sigil. His driving force now is to seek a purpose for himself, and an explanation to the Mercykiller tattoo on the back of his hand.
Tondo Ket is played by KingOfLaw.

Kaodi, the stage is yours!


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## Kaodi (Mar 14, 2004)

*Session 1*

Only the occasional exchange between patrons disturbs the silence of the tavern,  a run down establishment in the Lower Ward of Sigil called the Sword & Buckler. Most of the customers are of the kind that usually hang around the tavern, the riff-raff trying to eke out a living in the rough and tumble city of Sigil, but tonight a good number of them are of the  “ armed and dangerous ” sort, more so than on a typical night. They seem to be expecting something, or someone.

	The idle chatter ceases when the door swings upon and a large man steps inside. He is dressed in chainmail, with a sword hanging at his side. A black cape is draped over his broad shoulders and his face is framed by a tangle of red hair. For a moment his piercing blue eyes scan the room, a ghost of a smile hidden partially by his beard. His name is Vince de Plotte.

	“ Good eve to ye, cutters! “ de Plotte declares in a booming voice. “ Do I look upon a bunch of canny bloods, ready to take on the planes? ” And at that he is greeted by a mass of raised tankards and cheers. “ Then I have a job for you! ” he hollers, raising his voice up over the noise.

	“ There is a place in the Outlands, ” he begins, “ a large cave complex. It’s guarded by undead, but the chant goes that there is a lot of jink and treasure there. ” He pauses a moment, gauging the reaction of the crowd and then continues. “ I need competent planewalkers. Everybody gets an equal share, but I’ll take no leather headed berks or clueless primes. I’ve had my share of adventure, but I can’t take on a horde of undead, and I’ve no spellcasting skill. ” He is answered again by a raised tankards and cheering.

	De Plotte pulls up a chair and table, producing a ledger from his cape. “ Those who want in, form a line, “ he says. “ I’ll judge if you’re competent enough, all in your turns. “ Most everyone except the bartender get up and form a line without too much trouble. They are a mixed group of humans and half-elves mostly, with a barbazu thrown in for good measure.

	The interviews begin and de Plotte directs some of them to sit at a bench next to him. First is a tall human in dark leathers, then a red haired man who demonstrates his grasp of magic with a flash of light. After him is a human woman in silvery chainmail. Next though, is the barbazu, and after a brief exchange of words, he storms out of the tavern, shouting obscenities the whole way and then slamming the door.

	Some minutes pass and two green robed men and a striking half-elven woman, heavily armed, take their places at the bench. Next in line is a pale skinned human in his late teens, with dark hair and dark eyes. He is dressed in scalemail and carries a greatsword on his back.

	“ What is your name? “ asks de Plotte.

	“ Rhett, formerly of Dalelands, “ says the young man. “ I’m a holy champion of the god Torm. “

	De Plotte rolls his eyes slightly. “ And why do you want to kill undead? “ he asks.

	Rhett’s expression darkens. “ My family were killed by undead, “ he says angrily. “ They were created by the followers of the foul drow goddess Kiaransalee, the one they call the Revenancer. I swore an oath to avenge them, to destroy all undead, and to destroy Kiaransalee herself. “ Rhett pauses to take a breath, and then says slowly, “ No matter how long it takes, no matter the cost. “

	De Plotte thinks for a moment and then nods. “ Take a seat over there, “ he says, pointing to the others on the bench. Rhett does so. After him comes an attractive young woman with shoulder length chestnut hair, brushed back to reveal her pointed ears.

	“ I’m Alys, “ she announces. “ Trapsmith, procurement agent and Knight of the Post. “

	“ And what do you want on this expedition? “ asks de Plotte, scratching his beard.

	“ I want the jink, “ Alys replies. “ I came here tonight for a spot of work, and this sounds as good as any. “ 

	“ Do you have any… special skills? “ asks de Plotte.

	Alys grins. “ I may not be as good at smashing heads as some a those others there, but you’ll not find a cutter in here who can turn a trick with a lock like I can. “

	De Plotte nods. “ How old are you, by the way? “

	Looking indignant, Alys replies, “ Ah… don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age? “

	“ Go sit with the others, “ says de Plotte, shrugging. The next interviewee, a short halfling wearing fire scarred leathers and carrying a crossbow, steps forward.

	“ Dr. Poojo, ex-professor of experimental chemistry. I hail from Greyhawk. “

	“ Never heard of the place, “ says de Plotte. “ Why do you want on this expedition? “

	Dr. Poojo answers, “ For the heck of it. Someone has to find out about undead and their food indegestion. “

	De Plotte looks at Dr. Poojo for a moment before replying. “ I see, “ he says. “ What use would you be on our expedition? What can you do? “

             “ I can do all things useful, in expeditions like these especially. “ Dr. Poojo says. “ No lock can stand in my way for long, and my knowledge of the wilderness is vast. “ He peers expectantly at de Plotte for a long moment before continuing. “ Dungeons and caverns are my strong subject. I’m useful underground. “ 

	Several moments go by before de Plotte speaks up. “ I see. Go sit with the others. “ 

	There are a few people left in line. The first of them is a strange character, lanky and muscular, with no hair at all. His body is covered in tiny stitches, and his eyes are nothing more than glass marbles in a leathercraft face. After him is a modron, carrying a holy symbol of Bahamut of all things. Bringing up the rear is a ruddy dwarf loaded down with a huge barrel strapped to his back.

	The constructed man steps up to the table, and de Plotte asks, “ Your name? “ 

             “ Tondo Ket, “ replies the man.

	“ And what do you want on this expedition for? “ inquires de Plotte.

	“ It gives me a purpose, at which currently I have none, “ is the reply.

	“ You’re a Mercykiller, “ says de Plotte. “ Doesn’t that faction give you a purpose? “ He looks at the symbol on the back on Tondo’s hand.

	Tondo looks confused. “ Mercykiller…? “

	Rhett leans towards de Plotte and whispers, “ Um, excuse me. I talked to him earlier. I don’t think he has complete programming. “ 

	De Plotte glances towards Rhett, then back to Tondo. “ Go sit with the others, “ is all he says.

	The modron is next, and de Plotte asks, “ You have a name, modron? “

	“ I am called Strontium-90, “ is the modron’s mechanical reply. “ I am a follower of Bahamut and a servant of light. I also require a source of income. “

	De Plotte does his best to stifle a chuckle. “ You’re a priest? “ he says.

	“ Affirmative. “ 

	“ And Bahamut is your power? “ 

	“ Affirmative. “ 

	“ Never heard of him before, “ says de Plotte, straight faced. “ What’s he the power of? “

	“ Bahamut is the Lord of all Good Dragons, “ is Strontium-90’s reply. 

	“ Dragons, I see. And how powerful is your magic? “ asks de Plotte, looking interested. 

	“ I am proficient in healing magicks and other clerical spells. I can also channel positive energy to affect beings of negative energy. “

	“ Can you restore life energy stolen by the undead? “ asks de Plotte. “ I don’t mean patching the wounds in the skin, but the soul. “

	Strontium-90 blinks and thinks for a moment. “ I do not believe I have such powers at my disposal at this time. “

	“ I see, then, “ says de Plotte. “ Sit with the others, then. Or stand, if that’s what you boxes do. “

	Only the dwarf is left. He pauses a moment, then walks up to the table and offers his hand. De Plotte reaches out and grasps it firmly, and they shake hands.

	“ Dalgar Blackhammer, at yer serice, “ says the dwarf, looking sure of himself.

	“ All right. So, why do you want on this expedition? “ asks de Plotte, glad that this is the last to be interviewed. 

	“ Just biding my time until I find out how to get back home, “ says Dalgar. “ I need the gold, and besides, not many err… Primes I think you call us, from my worlds have been to such a place. There must be many stories here. “

	De Plotte nods. “ I see. By the way, why are you lugging the barrel of bub on your back? “

	Dalgar puffs up momentarily and replies, “ Personal tradition, ever since my Pilgrimage. Helps build strength, and it’s good for celebrating to boot. “

	De Plotte points to Dalgar urgrosh. “ You know how to use that thing? “ he asks.

	Patting his weapon, Dalgar says, “ Yeah, every young warrior must learn to use one of these blades. “ 

	“ I see. You’re new to Sigil I take it, “ says de Plotte.

	Dalgar nods. “ Yeah, portal malfunction, “ he says.

             De Plotte waves Dalgar to sit down, then he turns to regard the group critically for a moment. “ There’s a lot of you, “ he says, more to himself than to any of them. He then goes silent for a moment, evidently thinking hard. 

	“ My name is Vince de Plotte, “ he says. “ And before any of you asks any questions, I’m afraid I have to tell you that some of you will have to stay. “ Standing up, he walks along in front of the bench. “ Blackhammer and Poojo, for ones. I said I’d take no clueless primes. “

	“ And you, “ he continues, “ Rhett of Torm, are too eager and fanatical. I can see it in your eyes. “ Pointing to Alys, he says, “ You’re overconfident, and in the planes that can kill. “ He stops pacing. “ And you, box and leatherface… I don’t know what to make of you, so you’re not coming. “ 

	All of the rejected object vehemently, and doing a quick count off, Alys asks, “ So, you’re rejecting all of us that ya picked earlier? Then why waste our time with the interview in the first place? “

	Looking Alys straight in the eye, de Plotte answers, “ To see if you’re good enough. You’re not. Don’t take it too badly, there’s always a bigger fish in the Planes.
He then throws the barkeep a bag of coins. “ A round of bub for them, good man. “

	Beckoning to his chosen companions, Vince de Plotte leaves the Sword & Buckler to the indignant young adventurers. Somewhat perplexed, Strontium-90 comments, “ My, what an odd process. “

	Flushed, Alys says, “ Oh no, he don’t. “ She turns to the group and asks, “ You all aren’t going to take that from him, are ya? I say we follow them berks and show ‘em we have the skills for the job. Who’s with me? “

	Dissatisfied with this turn of events, the group decides that there is no way they are going to let de Plotte get away with embarrassing them like that. They agree that they are just going to have to show him that they are more than qualified for the task. Packing up their gear, they head out into the streets of Sigil with Alys leading them, having apparently chosen her as the interim leader.

	Following de Plotte, doing their best to stay quite despite the racket made by the dwarf and the clanking of the modron, they see him stop near a great building complex with huge chimneys belching smoke into the night air. Standing in front of a shop, de Plotte seems to be addressing his followers, explaining to them. Alys creeps forward so that she can get a closer look.

	All six of them can see de Plotte take something out of his pocket, passing two of them to members of his group. He then holds something in front of him and steps into the doorway, vanishing. His companions follow in similar fashion.

	Reporting back to the group, Alys says that she saw de Plotte holding a symbol of the Dustmen.

	“ Who the firepits are these ‘ Dustmen ‘ anyway? “ demands Dalgar.

	Strontium-90 blinks. “ The Dustmen are one of Sigil’s fifteen factions, “ he states. “ The factions are, in alphabetical order: The Athar… “

             “ The Believers of the Source… “

             “ The Bleak Cabal… “

             Rhett waves Strontium-90 to silence and the modron ceases his dissertation. The group the discusses the matter, and after Alys rummages for some appropriate material, Strontium-90 creates a facsimile of the symbol of the Dustmen, which the party hopes will get them through the portal.

	After checking their gear, Alys takes the makeshift symbol and walks up to the storefront, followed by Dalgar, Strontium-90, Rhett, Dr. Poojo and Tondo. One by one, they file into the doorway and…

	…Then the credits roll, and the theme song, Iron Maiden’s “ When Two Worlds Collide “ starts playing.


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## Kaodi (Mar 14, 2004)

*Storyhour*

This is my first time writing for a story hour, and I imagine my grammar is atrocious. I have the logs from our gaming sessions at my disposal, so most of the dialogue and description is taken straight from the text, but there is a lot of cleaning up to do before it is suitable for posting.

So far we have played three sessions, and there have already been a few tense ( and frustrating ) moments. I am going to try to work on the storyhour a little each day, and hopefully it will be fully updated before our next game on Friday.


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## NiTessine (Mar 14, 2004)

Good job with the story, Kaodi.

Everybody else, a piece of advice about IRC gaming: never, ever run a dungeon crawl unless you have a good way to post a map. It's very confusing, and while that may be the point of labyrinths, it can lead to frustration.


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## Kaodi (Mar 22, 2004)

*Session 2*

The blue mists clear, and the party finds themselves on a wide plain dotted by bare hillocks and sickly tufts of grass. Looking back, they see that the portal is anchored by a simple wooden frame. Not wanting to find out they are stuck here, Alys holds the symbol of the Dustman up to the portal which had just winked out, and is relieved to find that it immediately springs back to life.

	Drawing her rapier, Alys cautions, “ Stay peery, cutters. This place is supposed to be crawling with deadheads. “

	Rhett spots a set to tracks leading away from the area, and the group follows them around one of hills, and spot a wooden building nearby. As they approach, Tondo engages in conversation with Dalgar, evidently confused as to why the dwarf and Dr. Poojo are of lesser stature than himself. 

	Nearing the building, they see a sign over the entrance stating in bold letters “ Crazy Eevan’s Trading Post “ ,  and there is at the foot of the door there is a mat proclaiming “ Welcome “ . They hear footsteps, and suddenly the door is pushed open and out comes a large, bald man with a fiery orange beard and a bright smile to match.

	“ Welcome, welcome, “ he says, “ to Crazy Eevan’s Trading Post, the very best in the Outlands! “ 

	“ Crazy Eevan? “ asks Alys.

	“ Yes, I am Crazy Eevan, “ answers the man.

	They ask him if another large group of people had passed by a short while ago, and Crazy Eevan points them in the  right direction. He seems disappointed that the party is not going to stay and browse his wares, but they mention they will probably be back by this way later. 

	They party soon picks up the trail again, and they follow the track across a grey landscape under a grey sky, snaking around the colourless hillocks of sand. The trek is long, and not once do they manage to catch sight of de Plotte’s group. 

             Suddenly, as they pass by another of the bleak hills, they see something up ahead. A stone wall is set into the side of another hill, a large one, ahead of them. Three dark, cavernous entrances are featured, and the tracks lead towards it, but the ground is paved with flagstones for a good distance out, and the party loses the trail. 

	“ Hmm… the rule of three, “ says Alys, “ classic trap. Only one way in. “

	Investigating, the party finds that the left and right entrances are stairways leading down into the darkness, while the centre entrance is merely a hole in the ground with a ladder fixed to the side. Some debate ensues on which way they should go, but Alys wants to try the centre route and the rest of the party follows her lead. Dalgar volunteers to descend the ladder first, since he is most at home underground, and since he can see clearly without light.

	What they find is a featureless room fifteen feet long and ten feet wide, but on closer inspection, Dalgar finds a depression in one of the walls. Figuring that it is a poorly disguised doorway of some kind, he attempts to open it. With the sound of grinding stone, the door begins to move, but slowly at first. As Dalgar strains his muscles, Rhett comes to his aid and together they push the doorway open.

	Beyond them is a thirty feet by thirty feet room. The walls are covered in strange glyphs, and there is a statue in each corner, the closest one directly on the left of the opening. The statue depicts an elven female dressed in fine chainmail and carrying a spear, and the others in turn are a robed, bald man carrying a staff, a gnome with a trident and an orc with two scimitars. The wall on the right features huge double doors made of a black metal, also covered in runes.

	Alys searches the door for traps. Finding none, she goes to test the door to see if it is locked. However, as soon as she touches the black metal, the runes flash with a malevolent red light, and she snatches her hand away. For a moment nothing happens, but then there is a grinding noise. They party turns to see the statues moving, their eyes glowing.

	“ Brothers? “ proclaims Tondo.

	The modron, Strontium-90, standing last in the doorway, turns to the elf statue, striking it with his morningstar. His blow is deflected by the statue’s stone hide however.

	For the next several moments, it seems like the battle is moving in slow motion. Alys and Dalgar help Strontium-90 corner the elf statue while Tondo and Rhett engage two of the others and Dr. Poojo loads his crossow. The statues lumber forward, slowly at first, and the combatants engage in a battle of dodge and parry, with each hit on the statues having minimal effect, as the party manages to avoid the enemy blows.

	The gnome jabs at Rhett, and one of the tines comes out covered in red. The young paladin, unfazed by his wound, strikes hard at the gnomes head. For a moment, nothing happens, and then a crack appears and half of the gnomes head falls off. 

	Emboldened by Rhett’s success, Alys rushes the elf statue, trying to knock it over. The elf manages to score a bloody but superficial wound on Alys’ arm, but with great effort she manages to tip it over, and the statue crashes to the ground. Before it can get back up, however, Strontium-90 attacks with his morningstar, and pieces of stonework are scattered on the floor as the heavy weapon smashes the elf’s head into a thousand fragments. 

	Tondo, wielding his quarterstaff, attacks the orc statue. With one quick strike he cracks one of the statues knees, and then he manages to sweep its other leg out from under it, sending it to the floor with a loud crash. The orc does not get up again.

	Next up is Dalgar. Having yet to score a blow in the fight, he turns on the robed statue and lashes out with his urgrosh. Unfortunately, he misses yet again, to his horror.
“ I am not going to be bested by a piece of rock! “ he exclaims. “ I’d never live it down! “
Meanwhile, Tondo manages to finish off the gnome statue by removing what’s left of it’s head. 

	With only one statue left, the group turns it’s attention to finishing the battle quickly. Taking a deep breath, Dalgar attacks again, and again his blow swings wide.  Alys chips away at the construct with her rapier, but then Strontium-90 swings at it, and connects with it’s midsection. Fracture lines web out from the point of impact, and then the final statue crumbles. 

	Tondo feels great, more alive than ever before. Dalgar however is mollified. “ Uh, you guys won’t tell anyone about this, right? “ he asks, apparently fearful for his reputation. At that moment however, they hear a low hiss and the metal doors with open, revealing a circular room eighty feet across. The rooms only features are  a pool of dark liquid, twenty feet across, lying exactly in the centre. There are also two more pairs of double doors, one in front of them, and the other on their left. 

	As Alys binds her arm, the rest of the group investigates the pool. The surface is perfectly still, odourless as well as colourless, which Tondo finds out when he dips a piece of cloth into it. As for the doors, one set is marked in runes and the other is not. However, they are unable to find a mechanism to open either, and fearing the worse, they assume that they are going to have to activate the runes on the door and hope for the best. 

	Five of the group members take up positions around the pool, and then Alys activates the runes. As they expected, the pond begins to ripple and something large rises up out of it. A skeleton, the skeleton of an ogre. 

	Poojo shoots, his shot travelling wide, then Rhett jumps in, shearing off four four of the skeletons ribs. The ogre skeletons swings a bony fist in the paladin’s direction, connecting with Rhett’s shoulder and causes him to stumble backwards. 

	Strontium-90 attacks, his morningstar connecting solidly with the skeleton’s kneecap, sending it flying. Rhett returns to melee, this time taking off one of the arms at the shoulder, and the skeleton begins flailing with its remaining limb, which Strontium takes with a clang. The modron remains standing, however.

	Dalgar swings at the ogre’s spinal column, but his ugrosh glances off, doing little damage. Strontium smashes the skeleton’s foot, and it begins to teeter. Tondo leaps into the air, swinging his quarterstaff. Connecting solidly, the skull is dislodged from its lofty perch and flies across the room. With that, the rest falls apart, splashing back into the pool.

	The party members barely have time to voice their relief. With a hiss, the next door swings open and…

	…Then the credits roll, and the theme song plays. Children of Bodom – Red Light In My Eyes.


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