The Bleak Cabal
Source: The Factol's Manifesto p.26
You call us the Madmen, But we're saner than any of you. We know die multiverse makes no sense, but we don't run around trying to convert it into logic or anarchy. Nor do we spurn our brethren for realizing there's nothing to what we say, like so many other factions do (that is the point, after all). All you so-called leaders - your people have become my people because of your rigid angers; you’ve rejected your comrades, and they've come to the Cabal. Your lies and false values, dressed up as truths and ideals, have failed your followers. Your castoffs become the stuff of my faction’s strongest members, the core of mercy and despair.
I'll grant that sometimes those who join the Cabal are unable to find the necessary meaning inside themselves, yes, and therein lies madness. But you must remember that, the "Truth" is always the enemy of delusion, and delusion is a self-administered hypnotic. You partake too often of that drug, my friends. I pity you, particularly you Sensates. Your "faction" is merely a frivolous social club for shallow hedonists who can’t find any inner meaning because you’re always looking for outward stimulus. What folly!
Let me make an offer. Read my mind, and I'll show you what it's like to be a member of the Bleak Cabal. I'll show you that, yes, there is despair and anguish and sometimes even madness - but there is also compassion and mercy for the unfortunate. Have no fear; I'll let you touch my mind, though most who try reading a Bleaker’s thoughts fail. Come now, don’t you want to see what sanity's really like? Don’t you want to see the secret of the multiverse - that there is no secret?
No? Pity. For sanity is sorrow, despair, pain of mind and soul and heart. Torment, rage, and anguish at the loss of belief. There’s no faith, no hope, no trust - nothing to believe in. You say there must be an answer. There is not. Not the primes, not the petitioners (wouldn’t the dead have answers?), not the proxies and not even the powers have The Answer. There’s no sense to life, to the world, to the multiverse, to it all.
Is searching for inner meaning, then, the only salvation, the only hope? Indeed, is there even hope? Or is there only pain and despair, melancholia deep and dark and without end? The world is merciless. And yet, that's the very reason why mercy is most needed, why we tend to the hungry and the homeless, the orphans and the mad.
It's a conundrum, unfounded and unfocused. The only meaning is that inside myself, which comes to the fore at times such as these, and it is my salvation, my hope, my anchor to this side of life. Bleakers live shorter lives than other faction members, and we change factols frequently. I’ve been factol for just over three years. That's considered quite long by my people. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, only one other blood's lasted longer than I have - and you've no doubt heard the stories of what happened to her.
It’s not madness, this bittersweet melancholia that lets us see into our inner hearts and minds. It's relief. For without this ability, we could not face the world. That's the dark of being a Madman. Don’t look for meanings behind everything; accept what happens without question and look inward. I've found inside me all I need to deal with the world, my world, and that is a madness of my own making.
Madness and Meaning
The Bleak Cabal's an ancient faction; it seems there's always been a need for some to repudiate the tenets of others. Cabalists believe in nothing, save whatever twisted meaning they can wring out of themselves. They look sadly on those who have a belief in something external. Indeed, the very concept of someone (like the Harmonium) believing there's order to the multiverse isn't just alien to the Bleakers - it's anathema. Likewise, many factions have equal difficulty in understanding the Cabals lack of belief, though the Doomguard, the Dustmen, the Revolutionary League, and the Xaositects all view the Bleakers with some sympathy. (The Sign of One's been hated by the Cabal ever since they rook credit for the mysterious death of Nobevy a former Bleaker factol; many feel Nobey was "thought" to death. - Ed.)
Ever since the faction was born more than nine centuries ago, acceptance of the Bleakers has waxed and waned according to whichever philosophies had the biggest toehold in Sigil at the time. During periods of intense recruitment by other factions, when a factol would try to boost his numbers for some scheme or another, the Bleak Cabal's numbers would fall to the point of almost nonexistence. (Never in the Cabal's history has the faction actively tried to recruit members, instead growing solely via word of mouth. -Ed.) But in time, the other factions' numbers swelled and grew ungainly. When attitudes eventually shifted, and some other philosophy came to the fore, folks'd all jump on the latest bandwagon. At the end of all these cycles of up and down and up and down, many members would renounce their vows, seeking freedom in the nihilistic approach offered by the Cabal - that the multiverse made no sense. Thus, the Bleak Cabal regularly became the single most powerful faction in the Cage; every few hundred years, its point of view prevailed throughout most of the city.
Although the Bleakers had (and still have) some desire to mold others to their way of thinking, the very nature of being Madmen defeated them. See, when their numbers increased, so did the pressures and tensions of dealing with the loss of belief. Particularly stressful was the influx of new members, for many of them hadn't yet found the peace and acceptance notable in older Bleakers. And when the Cabal’s ranks became glutted, the tensions became too much for older faction members. Many went truly insane, fleeing Sigil or retreating into the depths of the Gatehouse. (The Gatehouse is an asylum that serves as faction headquarters for the Bleak Cabal — Ed.) Most often, this madness lingered until merciful death.
The Grim Retreat, as the Bleakers came to call their strange illness, struck each time their faction numbers swelled too quickly. The factol and other high-ups in the Cabal were frequently the first victims, leaving only inexperienced members behind to take the reins. Today, even after the Cabal's focused on achieving timer peace, they've got the highest factol turnover rate of any faction. (Several ex-factols are said to be still alive and functioning - if those terms truly apply to the insane - in the darkest cells of the Gatehouse)
Although modern-day Bleakers still contract the Grim Retreat now and again (mostly because of the pressures and tensions of living in the teeming City of Doors), the faction's learned a thing or two about mental health over the centuries. The success rate of patients’ recovery is now quite high. The faction also tries to keep the number of Bleakers stable, currently maintaining a registered membership of some 10,000 beings in Sigil, though a considerably larger population inhabits Pandemonium (the Madmen's primary plane of influence). Lhar's been factol for approximately three years now, and he's determined to maintain the policies established by the previous factols - mostly because they seem to work. It's been over 30 years since a mass Grim Retreat, and the number of Madmen seeking voluntary commitment in the Mad Bleaker wing of the Gatehouse has dropped dramatically.
Part of this good fortune stems from the Bleak Cabal taking a greater interest in Sigil. Oddly, of all the factions in the Cage, the Bleakers are arguably the most charitable. Why do they like to help others? Some no doubt find relief in caring for sods worse off than they are; a few Bleakers even suffer from messiah complexes and want to save the world from madness and death. But most just figure that by doing good works, they'll move closer to finding the true meaning that lies within. And besides, expanding the faction's presence and influence in Sigil is never a bad thing.
More than a century ago they opened up an almshouse in their faction headquarters, helping to care for the poor and lost. It still operates today, along with small soup kitchens throughout the city. These places of safe haven are open to a body in need of a warm meal, regardless of race or creed. And if the sod happens to be a Bleaker, he and his cutters can get a cot in a back room for a night The Fraternity of Order, the Harmonium, and the Mercykillers all view such concern for the welfare of the city's poor with something other than a compassionate eye. These lawful factions’ve had their run-ins with the Bleak Cabal in the past, and they’re suspicious of the Madmen's motives.
I don't mind being mad; I mind you thinking I'm mad.
Most of those who work at the kitchens're content to simply dish out food, but one Bleaker in particular's quite well known for always having a joke or a good word to pass on - which is probably why other faction members think he's gone over the edge. Fact is, his real name - if he ever had one - has long been lost, and folks just call him "Addle-pated," or "Addle" for short.
Addle-Pated
Male tiefling planar
The head (and only) cook at The Cold Bowl soup kitchen. Addle's a Bleaker whose outlook on life ain’t very bleak - in fact, it’s downright cheerful. Addle’s form of madness took a strange turn several years ago after an extended stay in the Mad Bleaker wing of the Gatehouse, and he's been in a giddy, manic state ever since. The Cold Bowl - only a dozen blocks from the Gatehouse - sits in the grimiest, most dispiriting pan of the Hive. Still, Addle's happy to be working, and the tiefling chatters on endlessly to die poor sods who line up for a meal. Every now and then he also helps out at Allesha's Pantry, another soup kitchen in the Hive.
Addle returns to the Gatehouse once a week for sessions with those who care for barmy Bleakers, bringing with him tales of things he's seen and heard in the Hive. (Most of which get chalked up to madness. - Ed.) Addle’s considered little more than a simpleton by many of the Gatehouse Bleakers, but outside the faction headquarters he’s highly respected by the homeless and hungry of the Hive.
Factol Lhar
Male half-orc planar
Lhar was born in the Hive, the worst part of Sigil, to a blind human father and an orc mother. His parents came to the Cage seeking only acceptance: his mothers grotesque appearance made them outcasts on their Prime Material world. They found that acceptance, but it didn’t put food on their table. To make matters worse, shortly after Lhar's twelfth birthday, his mother became pregnant again, The couple couldn't care for a newborn and a fast-growing adolescent, so they turned Lhar over to the orphanage at the Gatehouse, the establishment where the family’d received food and shelter in the past. Left at the entrance to the building, Lhar never saw his parents again. (Factol Lhar's sought his parents - to no avail - ever since. - Ed.)
Even today, the Gatehouse is all that Lhar knows. He’s intimately aware of every square foot of the structure, having spent many hours as a child roaming the gray-slated halls. Aghast at the growing squalor of the Hive surrounding the Gatehouse, Lhar realizes the increasing need for expanded facilities and more faction members to help run the headquarters. As such, he's planning to build an additional wing jutting out of the back of the Gatehouse to house more orphans and indigents. Further, he’s planning the potentially risky maneuver of increasing membership in the faction. History shows the strong possibility of triggering another Grim Retreat in the Cabal, but Lhar hopes to stagger the influxes and somehow avoid the trauma of past increases.
Lhar's set up soup kitchens in the other wards (all of which are considerably richer than the Hive) in the hope of gaining donations, for the proposed wing will cost considerably more than what’s In the Bleakers' coffers. Likewise, he's creating his network of Madmen to understand more of the political nature of Sigil; too often in the past, Bleakers've turned a blind eye to events influencing the other factions. Lhar wants to be prepared for any event, and he wants to understand the forces moving throughout the Cage. He’s struggling to keep his faculties together long enough to raise the jink necessary for the wing's construction. Once it's finished, Lhar plans to succumb to the Grim Retreat.
Unlike his predecessors, however, Lhar intends on returning to his position as factol - something never before accomplished in Madman history. To that end, he's promoted four bloods in his faction, in the hopes that they'll help see him through his coming madness. (The four high-ups - Ezra, Tessali, Tyvold, and Sruce - are discussed on page 31 - Ed.)
The Gatehouse
Located on a slight hill on the very edge of the Hive Ward in Sigil, the massive Gatehouse lies at the end of a curving, elevated road called the Bedlam Run. Once known as the Bedlam Blight, the building's original function was to house the contagious. Five hundred years ago, the Bleakers took over the asylum, renaming it the Gatehouse (berks in the Hive swear that's because the building sits at the edge of the Lady of Pain's Mazes), Since they arrived, the territory surrounding the building's deteriorated even further, despite the positive influence the faction's had on the ward.
The central part of the Gatehouse is a tall, semicircular, roofless tower with numerous sprawling wings attached to it. The Bleakers admit to adapting their faction symbol from a design inlaid in the tiled floor of the tower, (Who or what the tiled pattern represented has been lost in the millennia: the Gatehouse is an ancient structure, even by planar standards. The Madmen derive a certain ironic serenity from using an empty symbol in a world where nothing means anything. - Ed) The entry to the building looks like nothing more than a giant portcullis, but the steel bats are fully 5 feet in diameter. Scholars have long speculated on what the former inhabitants could've wanted so desperately to keep out. The size of the gate makes it impossible to move. However, the gaps between the bars are 15 feet apart, wide enough to allow the thronging poor and the lost inside.
During the last hundred years or so, the Gatehouse has been opened up to the indigent. Outside the headquarters, sods without a coin to their name line the street, waiting fur their turn to enter. They're looking for a hot meal and a bed for a few days before having to return to their slums, and they can usually find it in the Almshouse wing of the asylum. But the Gatehouse also holds an orphanage and several different wings for those whose minds have snapped. Many sad parents wait in line with children they can no longer care for, ready to hand them over to the orphanage, and just as many tearful children wait to commit their aging, addle-coved parents to a mental health wing. Sad fact is, most of the folks who wait patiently to enter the doors are mentally ill. Some seek treatment on their own; others are brought by caretakers as a last resort. The Cabal tries to accommodate everyone, but it can only let in 50 sods each day, regardless of which wing they're directed to. The rest must wait outside, the line of those seeking admittance snaking down the Bedlam Run and back into the Hive. Some parties wait weeks before finally getting inside the tower. Even if a body only wants to ask a Bleaker a few questions, waiting in line is the only way most sods ever get into the Gatehouse. An impatient berk could swap places in line with someone who's been waiting longer - for the right price. Faction members and friendly high-ups get in without having to wait.
A sharp cutter’ll realize that the constant stream of desperate bodies outside the Gatehouse attracts knights of the cross-trade faster than razorvine brings the dabus. Many berks who need muscle for shady jobs here and there just flash a bit of jink, and a dozen hungry sods from the line'll scramble to sign up. And there’s plenty of peelers looking to cheat a dimwitted body out of his last copper piece. Most of the criminals who prey on the folks in line come from the Gatehouse Night Market, an underworld bazaar a few blocks deeper into the Hive where the right price'll buy secrets, stolen property, or even slaves.
'Course, that's not to say that the criminal element is all a body'll find near the Gatehouse. Bleaker artists canvas the long line of sods, boldly sharing the sour fruits of their introspection with the masses. The atmosphere outside she asylum is often that of a funereal circus, with the latest anguished poems, elegant dirges, and gloomy stunts all battling for a spectator's eye. If a body shows any interest, one of the "Bleakniks" (as they're called) will most likely take him back to an artist’s tavern or cafe a few blocks away, there to beg his sponsorship or simply discuss the great Cabalist poets of the last hundred years. Indeed, a pub called The Weary Head is a well-known gathering place for Bleakniks of every artistic persuasion.
I taste naught but ire white, wrapped 'round in bitter black. It sheds all thought, all might, and rends all hapless back.
The Tower and the Wings
The central tower of the Gatehouse houses the faction's bureaucratic offices, as well as the living quarters of various high-up officials; Factol Lhar resides on the fifth floor. Folks who've waited in line are ushered into the open area behind the huge portcullis for processing. Half a dozen Bleakers are posted here each day, answering questions and directing those in need of help to the right wing (only fellow Bleakers are allowed into the faction quarters). Sods being admitted to the asylum are separated from their caretakers and sent to another Bleaker hovering nearby, who escorts the new inmate to the proper wing. Only the processing rooms located in the first floor of the tower are open for public viewing; the upper floors of the tower are for Bleakers only.
Lhar’s promoted four Bleakers - Ezra, Tessali, Tyvol, and Sruce - to the high-up status of factor; the four are second only to Lhar himself. They serve as administrators in the Gatehouse, each overseeing one of the four wings.
The scholar Ezra (Pl/♂bariaur/0-level/Bleak Cabal/NG) runs the Almshouse wing. He regulates the number of beings who're let in each day, how long they're allowed to stay, and what work (if any) they must perform in exchange for the charity. The conditions in Ezra's wing are often cramped, dirty, and squalid. He’s woefully understaffed, having only a handful of helpers at the Gatehouse - most of the Bleakers in his jurisdiction are out in Sigil operating the kitchens. In times of great need, Ezra can cram upwards of 3,000 homeless sods in his wing, though that leaves virtually no room for sleeping or moving about in the small (20-foot by 20-foot) quarters.
Tessali (Pl/♂drow/F5,W7,T6/Bleak Cabal/CG) and Tyvold (Pl/♂drow/F5,W7,P6/Bleak Cabal/CG) are elven cousins from Arborea. Their most important contribution thusfar to the Bleakers’ treatment philosophy was a mazelike, walled garden to the back of the Gatehouse. Greenery's a bit rare in Sigil, but the Gatehouse has a full-time staff of 40 members tending the grounds and fighting off razorvine.
Tessali’s got the formidable job of trying to control the aggressive berks in the Criminally and Irretrievably Insane wing. The barmies confined to these tight (5 feet by 15 feet) quarters are truly the worst of Sigil, and it's mostly their screams that passersby hear throughout the day. The two-story wing can hold 188 patients in individual rooms. Unfortunately it's currently full to capacity and then some, with many rooms holding two berks each. Because these inmates are the ones most likely to try to escape from the Gatehouse, they're allowed to exercise only in the two walled courtyards at the ends of the main wings, and then only under heavy guard.
Tyvold has perhaps the easiest area to govern: the Orphanage and Insane Asylum wing. He has a staff of 45 Bleakers, but Tyvold's never at a loss for new assistants. Many cutters who join the Bleak Cabal have a deep interest in mental health and in healing others, though few have the courage to apprentice in Tessali’s wing, and apprenticeship to Sruce is by invitation only. Furthermore, each of the three floors in Tyvold's wing is, for the most part, a large, open space, which makes cleaning and observation easy. The top floor is earmarked for Sigil's orphans, children age 14 and younger. The bottom two floors are devoted to mentally ill folks who’re expected to recover, given a little time and treatment.
File wizard Sruce (Pr/♀human/W 14/Bleak Cabal/CN) is in charge of the five-story Mad Bleaker wing, the area that houses faction members in the throes of the Grim Retreat. She's originally from Krynn, though she didn't venture onto the planes until her fiftieth year. Now 70 years old, only her haunting eyes betray what she's seen and endured the past two decades. The pressure to heal the mad Bleakers and return them to their duties is enormous, but Sruce does what she can. The wing contains 280 barren cells, each 10 feet by 10 feet, though currently only three floors hold Cabalists struggling to regain their minds. Sruce lets out the extra rooms to travelers. Bleakers stay for free, but others must pay 10 gold pieces per day - and take a solemn vow never to discuss the odd sounds heard at night.
The cells are by no means luxury accommodations, as they're meant for Bleakers who feel they're truly going insane, Fact is, each cell contains only an old straw pallet for bedding. The outside of the windows are lined with bars, the inside with black, dilapidated shutters that always remain closed, (Among the Hive children, it’s a mark of bravery to run up to one of these windows and try to peek through the cracks in the shutters. - Ed.)
When a Bleaker commits himself to the wing (or is taken there by friends), one of Sruce's staff escorts hint to the nearest unoccupied cell and closes the ironbound door, locking it with a heavy steel bar, A metal shutter slides into place across the door, cutting off all light and life. How long the Bleaker chooses to remain there - forgoing all food and drink, in a state of transcendent despair - is up to him. A number have died in their cells, never finding the strength to grasp the faction's code. Most, however, cry out their reaffirmation of the Bleaker philosophy, even as they collapse from starvation or dehydration, A staff member finds the fallen sod sooner or later. If he’s not dead, his door's left open by the worker so the Bleaker can later stumble away on his own. But if the Bleaker looks bad, he's taken to an upper floor and tended to until he's well enough to leave. (The faction forbids its members to discuss the Mad Bleaker wing with anyone other than fellow Madmen. - Ed)
Fact is, no matter which wing they're taken to, most folks eventually leave the Gatehouse fully recovered But they all keep mum about their Treatment, saying only that the Bleakers were "kind" to them.
Within the Ranks
Playing a character who's a member of the Bleak Cabal is likely to pose a challenge for many players - and it's equally likely that the faction s too grim to interest many players. After all, it’s hard to play someone whose outlook on life is, by choice, depressing and fatalistic. But the opportunity to play a character on The edge of madness can be a challenge - and exciting, too, as the faction lends itself well to numerous possibilities. For example, a Bleaker can apprentice with Ezra to aid the homeless, with Tyvold to help orphans, with Tessali to watch the dangerous barmies, or with Sruce to tend Bleakers in the depths of the Grim Retreat.
Role-playing the Bleakers
The question often arises as to why any Bleaker would bother to join a party of adventurers or undertake any sort of quest in the first place. Wouldn't it be easier to remain in Sigil and perform charitable works to ease the pain and suffering of others, as well as one's own? Wouldn't it be more fitting to lie in bed all day and refuse to show interest in anything the world has to offer?
Perhaps, but a true Madman welcomes his duty to embrace the pain of life, wrestle with the demons of insanity, and emerge the stronger for it all. For the same reason why the Cabal endures the tormenting winds of Pandemonium, so do Bleakers set out on adventures - the madness of it all moves a cutter farther along on the path toward self-awareness. After all, the faction's core belief says that a body’s got to find meaning within himself, but such meaning can't come without first experiencing the intrinsic folly of the rest of the multiverse. Exploring the ruins of a castle or escorting an infant prince across a desert won't mean much to a Bleaker other than what he can take away from it - how the experience can help him look inward and find truth.
A Bleaker doesn't dwell on treasure the way other adventurers often do, but that doesn't mean he won't take his fair share. He'll hold on to it, prepared to spend it in whatever fashion he thinks best - perhaps to bolster a struggling orphanage or aid a sages medical studies toward relieving mental illnesses. But if he can’t think of a suitable use for a pile of jink, a Bleaker just might leave it where it lies - one of the many reasons why other factions call them Madmen.
Of course, all of this assumes that a Bleaker's made his daily saving throw against the futility of existence. As stated in A Player's Guide to the Planes in the Planescape Campaign Setting boxed set, a Bleaker must roll a percentile die start of each game day, A result of 1(cumulative each day) means the sod's thrown into a fit of melancholia, overcome by the pointlessness of life. He won't take any actions unless his comrades can provide a convincing philosophical argument as to why he should bother. Demonstrating that the action will relieve the Bleaker's depression may work, as might appealing to the sod’s charitable inclinations. However, the mere sight of a friend being menaced by a monster isn’t enough to rouse a Bleaker who’s failed his daily roll, What's more, a Madman who is role-played to the hilt is likely to steel himself against arguments that his cutters throw at him repeatedly, forcing them to come up with new and better reasons for die Bleaker to rake action.
A Bleaker’s daily roil can get him into trouble in other ways, though. A roll of 100 indicate a state of manic euphoria. The character's overcome with flights of fancy and free association, and he's likely to believe that he's some sort of messiah. Fortunately, this only lasts for one day. To role-play this manic state of mind effectively, a player can speak very quickly, jump from one thought to another without logic, and respond to everything he hears by word association.
Alignment. Bleakers can be of any alignment save lawful. Lawfully aligned characters can't stomach the basic premise of the Cabal, that the multiverse doesn't make sense, for without sense there's no order.
However, further distinctions of alignment seldom trouble Bleakers. "Good" and "evil" aren't necessarily the standard definitions to Madmen; instead, they prefer "sanity" and "insanity." The thin line that separates these extremes for any given Bleaker is often a faint one, blurred by trying to live and keep at bay a body's inner demons, A member of the Cabal can be quite sane one day, and a fortnight later be in the throes of a depression bordering on true insanity. It's all a matter of outlook.
Similarly, Bleakers of opposite alignments can work well together despite clashing viewpoints. If the factol assigns two Bleakers to tend the soup kitchens near the Foundry, they will. The chaotic evil fellow will dish up broth with as much speed and determination as his chaotic good partner, though his heart may not be as gladdened by the deed. The two Bleakers have a far more primal urgency to deal with - their own internal struggle for sanity. At one point or another, all Madmen share the pain inherent to their faction, and not even alignment can separate two Bleakers who know the terrors the other has endured.
Class. Intelligent characters - notably wizards, artificers, and other classes with scholarly inclinations - are particularly attracted to the Bleak Cabal, with its emphasis on the mental over the physical. Rogues and fighters can also join the faction, but these classes typically do so later in life. Perhaps a warrior sees too much killing, or a highwayman spends too many years on the run - whatever the case, the burden of life takes its toll and sends him a bit off the edge. Their haunted pasts drive them to even greater acts of sacrifice and compassion.
Bleaker Membership
At first, it seems like joining the Bleak Cabal's as easy as stepping through a portal. A body’s just got to decide that he wants to be a member and then make his decision known to any Bleaker, whether at the Gatehouse, in a soup kitchen, or on the howling plane of Pandemonium. But then comes the initiation period, which tends to break most berks. The Bleaker's response to the applicant won't be much more than a grunt or a shrug of the shoulders. He won't explain what to do, where to go, or anything of the son - the sod's on his own. Oh, he can tag along with the Bleaker he’s attached himself to and continue to struggle for acceptance, but the Madman'll try to ignore the sod and may even try to talk him out of joining. Most berks change their minds in the face of such repeated disinterest or downright antagonism. But those whose hearts are truly bleak, whose will is such that they persevere, eventually get accepted into the faction as namers. Typically, this initiation period lasts from six months to one year.
A sod who makes it through the initiation has to drop his last name or family name; all members of the Cabal are known only by their given name. It's a sign of their willingness to give up a life of past "meaning."
Faction Abilities.
Considered mad by most, bleakers are immune to madness inducing spells and effects such as Confusion, Crown of Madness, Feeblemind, Otto's Irresistible Dance, Tasha's Hideous Laughter, the gaze of an umber hulk, or the winds of Pandemonium. They can spend Inspiration to mask yourself from Detect Thoughts and similar forms of mind-reading (as if your Intelligence were 3 or lower) for 1 minute.
Factotums receive the following feat:
The chant
Not all madness is melancholia.
Folks who’ve visited many of the Bleaker's soup kitchens report that other factions - particularly the Mercykillers and the Harmonium - seem to be taking more than a passing interest in the places. The lawful bashers don’t really care what goes on in the Hive, but they've staked out the kitchens in the other wards, especially those found in The Lady's Ward an area of Sigil with relatively few hungry or homeless sods. So far, the only thing they've seen at the kitchens is mercy, but they're still peery and growing more so every day. Fact is, the faction's opening more and more soup kitchens throughout the Cage, and some lawfuls tear the growing web of havens has got something to do with the Lady of Pain's Mazes. After all, rumors that the Gatehouse is somehow connected to the Mazes just won’t die.
Factol Lhar's unaware that Factol Nilesia has set her Mercykillers to watching the Bleak Cabal's headquarters as well. But even if he knew, he wouldn't care, for he's slowly succumbing to the madness inherent to his position. Lhar fears that he'll follow in the footsteps of his two predecessors, Esmus (Pl/♂human/W8,R9/Bleak Cabal/CN) and Tollysalmon (Pl/♀githyanki/ knight 7/Bleak Cabal/CE), For some reason, the two ex-factols each had an especially difficult time with the Grim Retreat, and both had to be committed to the Criminally and Irretrievably Insane wing of the Gatehouse. The Bleakers report that the ex-factols've been drained of their aggressive urges over the years, and that now they're harmless - barmy, but harmless. However, the chant passed around by Bleakniks in the Hive says otherwise, warning that it's all the faction can do to restrain the two ex-factols. Somehow, it's said, Esmus and Tollysalmon've gained mental powers so strong and frightening that Bleakers in the Gatehouse can't even kill the berks - and not because they haven't tried.
The Bleakers' headquarters is the source of more than one rumor. A few Madmen who've apprenticed with Tyvold in the orphanage complain that the drow's not the least bit interested in caring for the children who live there - that he leaves their welfare entirely in the hands of a berk named Vicsek (Pl/♂githzerai/F3/Bleak Cabal/CN). Under the githzerai's care, the orphanage seems to be in a constant state of chaos, with children disappearing for days or even weeks at a time.
Speaking of Tyvold, he’s mentioned an odd story told by the giddy Addle-pated on the cook’s most recent visit to the Gatehouse. Addle reported that he's worried about a friend who used to visit the Cold Bowl soup kitchen daily: a mute orc woman who looks like she got mashed in the gears of Mechanus one too many limes. The Bleaker says she was a jumpy sort, always looking back over her shoulder like she was afraid of something creeping up behind her. And now she hasn't come into the Cold Bowl in weeks.
Kids are just so darn cute when they're polishing rusty scraps of iron.