Sigil: City of Doors

“Where to begin…”

Bill sighed to himself and took another draw off of his smoke. A half empty whiskey bottle sat beside a half empty glass. Bill sat at his desk in his modest home in the Hive. Two Bull Mastiff hounds were curled up in front of the fireplace. His house was of a typical size for the Hive. Small but laid out in such a way as to maximize space. His neighborhood was deep in the Hive in a spider web of alleys and broken cobble streetsÂ… most didnÂ’t even have a name. The house, though, was well protected and fortified. He was a master Trapper and this was no secret to those who lived around him. Unless you were an absolute expert, you werenÂ’t getting into his homeÂ… and if you were that much of an expert you were probably wasting your timeÂ… he didnÂ’t care much for wealth. Only kept what he needed and a few other baubles heÂ’d pick up from time to time. The neighborhood itself was fairly secure as it was a stronghold of those who didnÂ’t like the law too much. They knew him and he knew them. He had a good relationship with most folks in the Hive, and in particular, this area. He was pretty safe.

Once again he put his quill to the page and paused. He had never intended to write anything about himself. He was always a very private person but recent events had made him reexamine this idea. Should he be killed somehowÂ… at least heÂ’d be remembered for a bitÂ… if only through these pages.

“Well… I guess I should start with my name” he wrote. “The name’s Bill… or more specifically, William Strauss. I was born in the Hive some twenty or thirty years ago… can’t quite remember as I haven’t celebrated a birthday since I was 7… before they took my family away.

Life was never easy for my family when I was a pup. I can remember playing out in the streets, mindful of thugs, slavers or worse. We learned at an early age that life wasnÂ’t easy around here. From time to time weÂ’d sneak close to the Markets to see the rich folksÂ… but were always chased off by the guards. No room for Hivers I guess. My mother was a pretty girl. Not jaw dropping but enough to elicit smiles and winks from the local heavies. They knew enough to keep their hands off her though, lest they anger my father and older Brother. See those two were known for being tough fellows. Strong and willing to knock some teeth out if needed. My father was always a kind man, though. Always helping out people around him... making sure folks had what they needed and that things were as good as possible for the neighborhood. My brother pretty much did the same although I remember him being a little more aggressive. Like any older brother, heÂ’d take pleasure in tormenting me and giving me a bloody nose now and then, but if anyone looked at me the wrong wayÂ… theyÂ’d walk away nursing two blackened eyes. For living in the Hive, life was pretty goodÂ… that was until they came.

I can remember that night like it just happened. I was asleep in bed; I shared a bedroom with my brother, when the front door of the house was kicked in. All hell broke loose. A unit of Harmonium guards rushed into the house and were met head on by my father. I remember seeing him being beaten down with their clubs. My brother rushed them from the stairs and was quickly overtaken as well. My mom, rest her soul, tried to intervene by moving at them with dads shortsword. HellsÂ… she could barely pick up the damn thing, let alone use it, but the bastards cut her down anyhow. She didnÂ’t stand a chance. It was about that time I took to hiding in the cubby in the closet floor. I didnÂ’t move for hours as they trashed the house searching for whatever it was they sought. Just after the sky became bright they had leftÂ… and I was alone. The house was a wreck. My father and brother were gone, I assume taken in shackles, and my mom had been removed as well. All that was left was a stain of blood on the floor. I was seven years oldÂ… and never saw any of them again. I donÂ’t know what they did with momÂ… probably handed her over to the Mortuary, and my brother and dad? I hear they were hung a few days later. I eventually found out why. In a hidden box in the cellar was a bunch of Anarchist material. Apparently they were members of a cell that was compromised. It got them killed. I held onto his badge but pretty much tossed the rest awayÂ… I certainly didnÂ’t understand any of it.

So after that point in my life, it was just me. I stayed in the family house for about a year but it became harder and harder to try to keep the place from falling apart. I was only a kidÂ… I could only do so much. I also had to fend for myself. I had no one to protect me from the locals so I stayed hidden most of the time. I trapped what I could to eat, mostly rats and the odd cat or dog, and stole the rest. Got beaten up often enough for thatÂ… well it was either risk it or starve. From time to time someone would catch me and hurt me just for the shits of it, but life in the Hive is what it isÂ… hard.

After a few years of this, I began to learn how to survive quite well. I knew the ins and outs of the area, knew who to trust and who to watch, how to pilfer and how to trapÂ… got especially good at that part. Got into a local gang and made quite a name for myself for the snares I could make. Could hide as well as anyone and could lie my ass off when required. At about the time I reached manhoodÂ… I suppose I was fourteen or so, I had surrounded myself with good folks... people who would take care of each other. It was a new family.

Then one by oneÂ… they started to vanish. Some would get caught by the Reds and disappear. Others would get sick and not make itÂ… most Hivers canÂ’t afford wealth clerics and doctorsÂ… only the rich get access to them. That left a few of us left. It was me, Norisha and Hutch. That was it. At about that time we started to reexamine how things were and why they were.

See we figured it wasnÂ’t fair that we should have to live like this while the rest of the city lived the good life. We watched folks, real good folks, wither and die because of who they wereÂ… Hivers. No one cared about us, never even thought about us, until we took something of theirs in desperation. Our people were simply ignoredÂ… we were never equal to them. We were dirt. ThatÂ’s when I thought about the old papers my father had hidden away, and the tarnished badge I kept hidden in my boot.

It was at that time I had decided to fight for what was rightfully ours… fairness and a rightful share. I had several meetings with local Revolutionaries about this and that and came to the conclusion that it was what I wanted… what I needed, to do. I spent many years working for various cells and groups. Mostly I was a runner… which is a low ranking initiate who maintains communications between cells, but soon enough I rose to become a full member. I always used my Dads badge… still carry it to this day.”

With that he closed the book and took another drink. The fire was dying and the hounds were fast asleep. He rubbed his eyes and extinguished his last smoke of the night.

“I suppose I’ll continue that later. Lots of stuff to consider before I put it all into print”.

Off to bed he wentÂ…

A few days later, after checking in with his clients (he operates a security business that specializes in safe-trapping homes and businesses) Bill finds himself, once again, in front of his book. The dogs had been fed and walked, the doors secured and his security measures enabled. He was getting ready to settle for the night.

“Let’s see”… he mutters to himself. He had pre-rolled several smokes and opened a new bottle before beginning.

“I had joined the Revolutionaries because I felt that there were too many people getting shafted by the current system. While it may work for some… there were too many who simply fell through the cracks. I was never afraid to go up against the enforcers of law when I had to. I wasn’t a hardened criminal, mind you, but have had a few run-ins with them before that point... mostly petty theft or disturbing the peace.

Anyhow, the Revolutionaries had a vision I could understand and supportÂ… tear it all down and start over. It was plainly obvious that continuing on with this Factional system simply wasnÂ’t going to work. It was my belief, and still is, that Factions only take care of those who either support their views or obey them. The rest are either suppressed, ignored or removed. Seeing as most Hivers had little use for the factions, their main concern was trying to make it from day to day, they were usually disregarded at best. As time went on, I began to see this scenario played out in the other Wards as well. Step in line with the Factions of power or be tossed aside. We definitely had to change the system.

Over the years, I worked with a number of Anarchists, distributing propaganda, hanging posters and getting word out in the street. I had learned how to use the word to convince the people to look at new options, to show a ray of hope where there was none. My cell, at the time, coordinated a large percentage of the paper handed out. We had access to an offset press and could reach most of the city weekly. Eventually, though, we were forced to scramble our hideout and our machinery was left behind in haste. It was manual from that point on.

After a while I had noticed that, support wise, we had hit a wall. We couldnÂ’t seem to get any traction outside of the HiveÂ… and inside the Hive we were just too unorganized to face the factions as was required. We needed to take more drastic measuresÂ… we needed to get peoples attention.

Now most Anarchists have no intention of hurting innocent bystandersÂ… weÂ’re trying to help people, not kill them, but from time to time, collateral damage happens. The first time we attacked a target we tried to minimize that aspect. It was a Harmonium outpost. We were given some explosives and told how to set them off. We werenÂ’t experts at the time but understood the risk. We managed to get right up to them and set the charge. It blew bigger than we had expected. It took out the outpost, two of our operatives and collapsed a nearby building. I couldnÂ’t believe it. Three innocents died in the buildingÂ… but we had achieved our goal. The city woke up that morning and took note.

We were active once again…”

Bill put the quill down, blew out the oil lamp and stepped over the two snoring houndsÂ… He decided that heÂ’d continue this later after much more thoughtÂ…

Several days later he continued his writing.

“Things progressed like this for some time. We got better and better at building, planting and estimating the explosives. We tried our very best to avoid innocents, and most times we were successful, but from time to time… someone would get too close. It was a part of the job that no one liked… hells… I still don’t like it, but sometimes good people get hurt. Thing is we saw good people get cut down every day. They get executed just for associations and disobedience. Good folks died every day from sickness and starvation caused by the injustice of the current system. It was a common occurrence. We figured that, yes, some folks will get wrongly hurt or killed… but the sooner we can change the system, the sooner we can ebb the flow of everyday, innocent death.

We were becoming known as a Cell who wasnÂ’t afraid to meet the opposition head on. It brought us supportÂ… it also brought us opposition. The fight for freedom wasnÂ’t going to be easyÂ… if it was then weÂ’d have it by now and wouldnÂ’t have to do any of this.

Then came the big break.

I had been approached by member of the Doomguard to help them with a task. Their leader, Factol Pentar herself, met with me directly. While extremely cautious and on guard, I had decided to help them in exchange for Weapons, supplies and explosive chemicals. She had agreed. Two of us set off one of the biggest distractions this city had seen. We sent a hallucinogen gas up through the old systems under the city. It clouded most of the wards and caused people to either imagine things not real or simply fall asleep. During this time we snuck into the mostly empty Prison (most were out dealing with the emergency) and released some sort of Slaadi. It was a calculated risk but with the supplies gained, it allowed us to proceed further than we could imagineÂ…

Shortly after that we used the newly gained support and began to solidify our fortress… the Hive… Not long after, the Red Death moved on us and we were forced to fight.”

Another day and another entry, boys. Bed timeÂ….

Bill pens another entry

"Well it's been some time since I last did this. Should really keep it up incase the Reds finally track me down and bust my balls for good. At least someone out there will know the truth. Anyhow...

IÂ’m not sure whether to congratulate the creature or simply be amazed at its ignorance. First it sets off some vast illusion in the Hive. Makes Red soldiers appear to march and take prisoners, which reminds me, I have to gain access to a true vision device, it then convinces me that it has civilian hostages in the Ethereal plane. Generally speakingÂ… I was certainly off my game to fall for two in a row.

Fine... IÂ’ll take credit for my own stupidity for going there to try to save those people. Supposedly it took them hostage to get at me so I had to bear some of the responsibility to their situation. It was risky but I wasnÂ’t going to abandon them. They were only civiliansÂ… not soldiers.

I arrive and what do I see? No hostagesÂ… just a big-assed dragon who simply wanted to see little olÂ’ meÂ… to speak with PhoenixÂ… wonderful. A simple chat is all it wants. I could think of a dozen better ways to get me to sit down and talk than this farceÂ… at least I learned a few things to look out for next time.

SoÂ… long story shortÂ… This wyrm represents some organization, one it refused to actually name, and that is dedicated to chaos. Not Doomguard chaosÂ… more in line of how I envision things. FineÂ… one can never have enough help, but then it comes out and tells me they want me to be their champion, to carry their flag!

UmmmÂ…. No.

I am no ones champion. I carry my own flag and thatÂ’s it. I donÂ’t lead, I donÂ’t order and I donÂ’t fight under the banner of someone else. I am not a champion. I am not a leader. IÂ’m simply one man trying to make a difference.

Well at least I have its nameÂ… in case I want to talk in the futureÂ… weÂ’ll see."