The cold chill wind blew softly down the corridors of Sigils mortuary that evening, as dozen of pairs of feet shuffled quietly in the darkness. This was an unusual occasion for the Dustmen, Sigils undertakers, one might even say and exciting event, although the Dustmen surly wouldn't. True Death can only be achieved if one purges themselves of all passion and emotion, so the Dustmen philosophy went, only then can we finnally leave this painful false life. Rumor was flitting around the dustmen that some were finnaly ready to transcend into True death and that Skall, the Factol and Founder of the Dustmen, would make the announcement of those prepared. Scores of the faction member poured into the mortuary. All clad in their grey robes, their faces stoic and devoid of emotion and in some cases feeling, they all walked through the darkened and twisting passages bound for a large assembly hall beneath its surface. Animated corpses of people who sold their bodies to the Dusties shuffled around mindlessly, stitching up wounds and draining fluids and embalming the bodies of the deceased for internment into the grave. They took no notice as the hundreds of Dustmen passed them by,moving as softly and as silently as the dead. The only sounds that could be heard was the rythmic breathing of each dustmen, their footsteps making not a sound. They spilled into the meeting hall filling every space available until there was no more room, still they continued to pile in. Eventually the flow of dustmen stopped, there was very little room to breath, let alone move at all. Simultaneously they all bowed their heads and pressed their finger tips together. A soft chant sounded from the dry lips of everyone present. The elders began first, reciting a ritual to open sound portal between the city of doors and the negative matierial plane. Then the less recent member began the call for an audience. The younger members joined in. Skall was countless millenia old, a powerful wizard in fact, he stipped himself of his mortality to become more powerful, in the form a lich. He was often very busy and rarely liked being disturbed in his attempt to further understand True Death. An unannounced meeting with him would require a ritual that would last an entire year. The chanting grew louder, the sound echoing of the walls and increasing in intensity. The sound became deafening and nothing could be heard but the sound of hundreds of Dustmen shouting without emotion or passion. One year passed. Still the chanting continued, many of the order had collapsed from exaustion and starvation. Those that did were immediatly raised as undead to forever serve as caretakers of the mortuary. Finnally Skall projected his image into the room. His form appearing nothing more than a bodyless robe with disembodyed hand floating in front of it. Those that knew Skall knew that his form was cloaked in many such illusions and it had been eons since anyone had ever seen his true form. "Speak my brethren," Skall rasping voice boomed, "What is it you wish of me?" The elders spoke in unison, "We ask of you to name those ready to fall into True Death." Skall went silent for a long time, not a sound could be heard. Finnaly he spoke, "Yes," he announced and then vanished. Then nothing happened. A long moment went by. All but three people blinked. "Yes?! What do you mean yes?!" came a cry of outrage from the crowd, "What in the nine hells kind of answer was THAT!" came another. Shouts began to errupt amongst them all. Some started to laugh, very hard. Others tore off their robes and ran screaming into the night. Fights broke out and some killed. Others renounced their allegiance to the Dustmen and went to join the other factions. Any who were not dead, left the gathering area, those who were, reanimated and shambled off as well. All except three, who continued to remain a emotionless and still as the dead. A moment passed and Skall reappeared. He saw all that remained, an elder, a regulor and a new comer to the dustmen. "You three," he began, "You shall be the ones who shall be the one who shall enter True Death first," A rush of excitment flooded through the regular and he smiled, the first smile to cross his ragged face in years. "Alas, Morthad,"Skall adressed the regular, "You shall not be joining them." With a flick of his hand Morthad began to shriek as his body began to whither and decay until he naught but a pile of dust. "I am prepared," announced the elder, a man of some eighty years of age, his face was crisscrossed with hundred of deep lines and scars and missing all of his teeth. But when he spoke he face was like block of stone. Cold, toneless and rigid. Devoid of emotion. "Very well," Skall said. The elder simply vanished then and their. As if he had never existed in the first place. "I do not wish to go!," The young member announced, his face still youthful and still retaining much of his emotion. "And why is that young one?" Skall asked, "I wish to remain, to teach others of the true death philosophy till I am more ready to pass on into True Death!" Skall gave a long sigh, "I too made that descision once," he began, "And still here I am millenia later, still preaching the knowledge of true death, to those who still choose to live a false life. I imagine I will remain still once you have left as well, after your countless rebirth into this false life are finnally at an end. Go then, rebuild the faction. We are obviously a little short on recruits." Skall gave an odd chuckl, the kind of chuckle a entity who stripped himself of emotion and passion countless ages past. The young member bowed and left without another word. Skall remained in solitude of Sigil for a time, then returned to the blacked loneliness of his fortress on the negative matierial plane.
I am fairly absent minded when I write so if its a little crap blame my amazing imagination!