Sigil: City of Doors

Jump Log, dateÂ… meaningless anyway. Meaninglessanyway.4.

The reason for the boss insisting I learn abyssal, infernal, basic planar terminology, a basic layout of the planes, and essential hostile environment survival skills has suddenly and irrevocably become clear. The portal did not, and I have since become convinced, was never intended to, travel to Athkatla, as was promised. Rather, I seem to have been expelled into the city of Sigil. Needless to say, this is alarming. As ordered, however, I will keep a log of the jumpÂ’s effects on me, physically, mentally, and physiologically; further, I will hand this report to the boss, should I ever find my way back, just prior to punching him in the face with a Bigby Fist.

Where to begin? Well, when I first landed, it was shocking. Gnolls, devils, and noise-noise-noise accosted my delicate sensibilities. To say the least, I was immediately and adamantly terrified. Once I calmed myself, I was able to take stock: The city itself is filthy, mottled, dangerous, and yet strangely alluring, not unlike a snake. Everything around me screams of danger; my every sense warning me away, and yet I cannot help but be intrigued. This is beginning to sound like a pulp romance piece now, however, so I will only say Sigil is filthier than I was lead to believe, but otherwise has been true to its legend.

I soon met another “clueless,” the local term for itinerants from the Prime who have no idea how the clockwork of Sigil clicks and clacks, who had arrived only hours after me. A dark gnome who named himself Nemo (I would later come to find this is not his true name, but I cannot begrudge him choosing a pseudonym, given circumstances). We stayed in each other’s company throughout the day, and he proved to be a valuable companion, if only because his bewilderment, being even greater than my own, bolstered my confidence in my own abilities. Indeed, I immediately began grasping the ins and outs of this unique metropolis, thanks in part to meeting some odd personalities, both benevolent and malevolent in nature.

One such personality was Mister Marius, a “Heartless” “cutter” who was kind enough to, for the scant price of ten “jink,” show us around the “cage.” I’ll keep my report only to those which interested me for now, and append a full index to this dossier at a later date.

First, the “Signers,” those who believe they have formed the entire multiverse by the awesome power of their own thought. While this, on the surface, sounded insane –indeed, Mister Marius was quick to point out just how “barmy” the philosophy is- upon further reflection, I have come to see their point. I cannot deny that thinking positively, keeping the proper attitude, and motivating yourself and others with nothing but uplifting thoughts can, does, and will work to change the world. In some ways the Signers seem to have taken a basic idea, one I have myself noted, and extrapolated it to the extreme.

Next, the “Sensates,” those who wish to experience everything firsthand, damn all consequence, and to the Hells with lethargy. This has obvious appeal to me, being new to… everything. An entire multiverse to experience! There is a thrill of discovery which the Sensates have condensed into a philosophy, and the giddying highs of sensation are indeed tempting. However, the problem soon becomes obvious. Experience for experience’s own sake is foolish, at times. I don’t need to be burned alive to know it is unpleasant, and there are many such examples.

Next, the “Hardheads,” the Harmonium, the constabulary, the police, the guard, the law. Call them what you will, they are the authority here, and I do love authority. However, there are some qualms to that. It seems slavery is entirely legal here, and I’m not sure I would feel right enforcing laws I could not possibly conceive as moral. Law without morality is not just, and as justice is the purpose of any law, this renders them… impotent to their true purpose.

Finally, the “Guvners,” the legislative effect of law. They are apparently the ones who fight crime with pen and papyrus, and are potentially more powerful for it. Further, this is where I should go if I ever truly want to make change in this scene. However, given that Sigil has existed a very, very long time without my being here, it is perhaps naïve to think that, even with the authority of the Guvs, I could hope to enact change. Ah, but now I’m shaming the Signers! See? They can be very inspiring.

IÂ’ll close for now.
Patricia Velenci. Clueless.



Left: The Gray Wastes are full to overflowing with zombies.
Right: The unique "architecture" of Sigil consists largely of scavenged scrap.

Log Entry Two:

Ah, where to begin? I suppose, naturally, with an explanation, a recitation of the troubles that have seen me absent, leaving my journal so dormant. It happened that one day, many months ago now, by local time, I chanced upon a portal, taunting me from a window serving ad-hoc as the requisite enclosure. Being still quite new to the portal business, I decided to go through. While the plane I popped out on was pleasant –green pastures, small groves of trees, ample food and clean water—it did leave me with the peculiar and somewhat embarrassing predicament of no return portal. It took me several months to figure out a means of opening the portal from the other side. I must admit, my work was stymied slightly by the pleasantness of that small, pastoral plane. I’m even tempted to return someday.

But now I find myself back in the cage, the city of doors; that metropolis of mythic proportions, centre of decadence, debauchery, depression, and all manner of words, alliterative or otherwise. And, which is more, I find myself returning to the city on the cusp of a Halfling invasion! Veritable hordes of my people, scurrying about and making the taller races vaguely uncomfortable, cover the bazaar. One such Halfling I met early was Cassandra.

I fear this journal entry wonÂ’t stand to the rigor of scientific process the purpose of this manifest originally purported to uphold. Simply too much happens for anything but an ethereal, stream of consciousness style to cover it all. For this, I apologize.

As I was saying, Cassandra: she is a Sensate who met me on my second day back. A shifter, she uses forms other than her own to appreciate experiences in a multi-faceted manner, and to expand her mind beyond that possible with the corporeal limitations most of us experience all our lives, ever without even realizing it. With her IÂ’ve had a chance to explore the metaphysical ramifications of experience; how language and sensation not only defines our world, but creates it. In particular, the discussion on the nature of experience was not only enlightening but energizing! I think she has aims to sway me to her faction, and, given recent experience, I do not suspect sheÂ’ll have much trouble in this endeavor.

In particular, Cassandra brought up interesting points about what is a desirable experience. All my life, IÂ’ve been of the opinion, undefined but certainly present, that good experiences were to be sought, and bad experiences were to be shunned. That is, one should expend energy to improve oneÂ’s station in the world, and to avoid all unpleasant and undesirable sensations. Cassandra, however, argues quite the opposite. She explained that a Sensate not only experiences the good, nor even the ambivalent, but so too the downright toxic, horrifying, and bilious. Cassandra herself had apparently, as her first stone, experienced nearly drowning to death. The fear, the pain, the panic, all would seem undesirable to the extreme, and yet to appreciate existence in its entirety, such things cannot be ignored and, indeed, must be embraced.

But now IÂ’m sounding like a Sensate myself.

Cassandra is just one of a small posse, a cadre of like-minded people with whom I have found myself travelling the planes, seeking adventure, challenge, and the almighty jink. TheyÂ’ve been with me through the Gray Wastes, around the twisting corridors of the undersigil sewers, into the eerie twilight glow of the Beastlands, across the windswept glaciers of the para-elemental plane of ice, through the endless trenches of Acheron with its hordes of angry orcs, into the acidic swamps of Baator, joining the blood wars in the endless Abyss, and finally tapping the vast wealth of tempestuous Carceri.

Among the damned five, beside myself and Cass, of course, are, in no particular order, Glarin, Talek, and Rodon. Glarin is a gruff dwarf trained in a sort of brawling monastic technique. His avarice for martial challenge is matched only by his fondness for ale. Whenever we venture into hostile terrain, even that which we are not familiar with, you can be sure Glarin will be at the front of the group, taking the brunt of the opposition and merrily punching creatures large and small into a fine, viscous paste.

Talek is the gentleman bard and holy warrior of his god, Wotan, whose name he calls out in what I find to be a rather comical matter whenever heÂ’s about to charge the enemy. Wotaaaan! ItÂ’s cute. I suppose IÂ’m terribly blasphemous to say such things, but IÂ’d never even heard of Wotan, or Odin as he is apparently sometimes known, until I came to the cage. It was quite a shock to learn the pantheon of my home is but one amongst a multitude. Anyway, Talek is one of the nicer people IÂ’ve met. He genuinely understands the loyalty intrinsic to little groups like our own. IÂ’ve little doubt he would fight nigh to the death, and possibly even beyond, for my sake.

Finally, Rodon: a bard of some ability indeed, and impeccable in his sense of fashion. All except his head. Bald. Utterly bald. Remarkable, really. Lately, though, heÂ’s taken to covering up with a hat, which, I must admit, gives him a full image. Beside myself, he is the most capable arcane caster within our little group, and itÂ’s sometimes nice to see magic being so well represented.

Between us, our power is far greater than the sum of our parts. The magic of divine source, of shifter, of magi, and of bard combine into a seemingly unstoppable force, protecting us from all harm, and laying low those who would oppose us –or who may have jink we want. I called us the damned five, you note, and that is because of an event that permanently bound us together. I’ll recount it briefly here, but it’s important I tell no one, as yet, at least, of what transpired.

We were travelling in Baator, trooping through those vast swamps with nary a care, as we had long since proven ourselves more than the match for any devil who wanders that plane commonly. What was about to happen, however, was anything but common. Eventually a massive devil, with a wide, insidious grin of hundreds of pointy teeth, grotesque with its blubbered chin and jowls rolling with fiendish mirth, appeared before us and informed us quite calmly that at its command a phalanx of Cornugon would appear and rend us apart quite nonchalantly. Obviously, this did not sit well with us.

So, the devil offered us a choice. We could walk away free and safe, so long as we agreed to do the devil a favor, a job involving hunting down a merchant named Seethe and stealing a parcel she has kept. The devil claimed the parcel was his, stolen, but I have my doubts. It didnÂ’t matter though. Our hands were tied. We accepted the terms, after Cass and I made sure they could not backfire on us, and are now bound to finding this Seethe. In return, our payment is not only our lives, but a handful of valuable gems. I donÂ’t think I can take them myself, in good conscience. Let none say I profited from serving a devil.

Seethe herself, we were told, was a human. But, as we sought out information, we learned that another duo were looking for her, a Halfling named Kit and a human named Kessa, and, further, that Seethe is not a human at all. Rather, she is a demon. This, obviously, is troubling news. Stealing a bag from a human was one thing. Stealing a bag from a demon for a devil is quite another. That the other two are looking for her means she is either very popular, and that another party is seeking her for reasons I cannot guess at, or that the devil is playing both ends against each other by sending two parties to seek her, perhaps hoping we will destroy each other in so doing. If such is the plan, it backfired, for we now have a loose agreement with the other investigators to share any dangerous information we find, and to give each other the lead to Seethe. HereÂ’s hoping all turns out well there.

The parcel itself is apparently a bag with infernal runes upon it. The devil warned us not to put anything in it. Oddly, he was particularly adamant we not put our heads in it. One can only imagine what happens if we should disobey that order.

Only time will tell how this will work out for us. Whatever the case, however, there is no denying it brought the damned five closer together. For good or ill, our fates are tied together by this mysterious package, this infernal contract. I suppose it could be worse.

IÂ’ll leave off there, as this entry has already become overlong and my hand aches from this damned quill.
Patricia Velenci. Unwitting Soldier in the Blood Wars.

Log Entry Three:
Well, the business of the Damned Five is concluded. WeÂ’ve fulfilled our obligation to the devil, retrieving the bag from Seethe, who we later learned was named Abilar Seethe. Further, sheÂ’s apparently just a human, not a demon, as we had been told previously. She runs a business trading favors, and is quite successful in this industry. Successful enough, at least, that her name sparked interest in a merchant when I asked, and he began complaining that she had recently been undermining his business. With his guidance we found her lodgings in the Foul Olde Spirit inn, right near the bazaar. She had been under our noses the whole time.

Once we arrived, we got right to business, and started bargaining for the bag, which she did indeed possess. She had bought it from a thief, it seems, and did not know how it worked, so her first offer was simple: if we could tell her exactly what the bag did, we could have it. Unfortunately, even as well versed in infernal lore as I am, the bag was something of a mystery, so we could not fulfill this deal. Instead, another offer was made at PeinÂ’s request: we could bring Seethe a sample of a very rare form of holy water, found only in a handful of fountains on Mount Celestia itself. In return, we would get the bag.

I must admit here that our initial plan was not to go through with the bargain. Instead, we were going to trick Seethe into following us to a neutral plane, where we might deliver her to the Devil without any problem, not only fulfilling our obligation, but retrieving the bonus offered for bringing her in alive. Fortunately, this proved to be unnecessary.

It turns out that good old Rodon is part Celestial. His grandmother, apparently, is an angel of a woman, in the most literal sense. It also fortuitously came to pass that Talek for several days now has been plagued by the feverish whisperings of a cursed blade of pure evil, an intelligent weapon trying to cajole him into wielding it. We saw a way to kill two birds with one stone, if youÂ’ll pardon the trite expression.

We travelled to Celestia and let Rodon do the talking. Truly, the man is something of a marvel, and must have a silver tongue stowed between those lips, for he flattered, he cajoled, and, at one point, he even downright lied to an archon. But, sure enough, we handed over the accursed blade to be destroyed, and this earned enough trust for the celestials to hand over a vial of the most holy water, so potent that a mere tenth could do more than any vial of holy water could ever hope. Our boon secured, we high-tailed it out of there.

The trade went without a hitch. The holy water was bartered for the bag, and the bag was brought to the devil, and we escaped just fine. The devil did try to tempt us into using a portal of his own make to go homeÂ… IÂ’ll never know where that portal actually went, as we decided to procure our own means home instead. We also got the handsome payment of gems: two blue diamonds, two jacinths, and a rogue stone, if memory serves. I let Talek handle them; I wonÂ’t accept any payment for serving a devil. My own safety, and the safety of my friends, is payment enough.

In other news, Cassandra and I had our first major spat. It gives me a headache just thinking about it, but it involved another Halfling named Taris. She’s… I’m not even sure how to describe her. At turns she can be either playful, quite nearly as much so as Cass, but then at once she will be overcome by a gloomy countenance and sink into the most baleful depression. She’s also quite taciturn. At any rate, she and Cassandra have become very good friends, and my own jealousy caused several days of Hell equitable to the plane itself for all of us. It’s mostly patched up now –between Cass and me, at least. I suspect there is still a bit of talking to be done with Taris, but she is on vacation to a prime.

Oh, and I mentioned Pein, whom I do not believe has hitherto been mentioned in this journal. If Taris is a bit odd, then Pein is something of a corporeal embodiment of the idea. On the one hand, she wraps herself in armor as thick as my arm, and wields a scythe to devastating effect, slicing whole limbs from her enemies; on the other, she giggles. I mean, honestly giggles. ItÂ’s unnerving, in a way. She has, however, become something of a sixth member of our usual foray teams, and is a regular sight in the Abyss, and a welcome one too. Her skill with that scythe ensures IÂ’ll always value having her on my side, even if that giggle ensures I keep a pace or two from her.

My studies go remarkably well. My book is nearly full now –at least, full of the mundane spells readily available to a mage with jink and time. Perhaps someday I can begin researching and developing my own, or at least furthering my study to broader fields, but for now I am fairly comfortable with my abilities.

My collection of staves expands as well. IÂ’m now up to four: one to enhance my own powers, another that heals, a third thatÂ’s designed for dueling, and a fourth that Talek gave me. This fourth is the most powerful, quite possibly. It contains nigh every air-based spell available. Quite the interesting toy, I must admit. I owe him one.

Speaking of owing people, Kessa and Kit must be informed of SeetheÂ’s whereabouts, as per our agreement. Try to remind me to get around to that, Log.

Finally, there is the matter of the factions. This indecency with Cassandra cooled my fervent adoration of the Sensates to some degree, though I would be loathe to admit as much as Cassandra would doubtless feel slighted. I still find them interesting, fascinating even, but I find my interest pulled in multiple directions at once.

On the one hand, my fascination with ontology has come to the point where the Signers sing to me. I find trying to describe existence, to master the real, a challenge of the highest order, and one, given its relative importance, sadly lacking in focused study amongst the intelligentsia. I donÂ’t think IÂ’ll ever join the Signers, however, as I think most of them are probably quite mad. While I find it interesting that I could be the mere fancy of some creature beyond my own understanding, and not, in fact, be a true person my self, I donÂ’t really believe it. ItÂ’s all just a thought exercise to me.

Next, the Athar. I never thought the day would come when I would pen these words, but IÂ’m no longer sure I believe in the gods. Any of them. Seeing what IÂ’ve seen, experiencing what IÂ’ve experienced, leads me further and further, inexorably, as a tide of dark water, towards the conclusion that the gods are not harbingers of existence, the keepers of facets of our lives, guidance in our troubled times, tempters and transcendent all, but, rather, are merely beings. Beings like me. That they are incredibly powerful, there is no doubt, but that does not make them gods, does not make them more. They are merely very powerful interplanar beings. I myself could attain such a rank someday, given luck and study. How can one worship something so ultimately shallow?

I donÂ’t think IÂ’ll be joining the Athar, however, for while I believe the gods are frauds, I donÂ’t dislike them. They clearly perform a valuable service for the interplanar community. Some, such as Tyr, my old patron deity, are still very very good beings. JustÂ… not gods.

Next, IÂ’ve had occasion to deal with the Harmonium a bit, and even act as law enforcement on a couple occasions when I happened upon one Tomas repeatedly petrifying some poor leatherhead. Every time, I found myself taking the situation into my own hands, and ordering the involved to cease, or evacuate the scene, or similar. It almost makes me want to sign up as a Hardhead. Almost. Fortunately, IÂ’ve still some sense about me, and realize how bitterly jading such a profession must surely be.

More intriguing is the Guvners. I had occasion to help them recently, both with the Tomas affair, as well as researching a slaver who, it appeared, was using powerful enchantment magic to bend unsuspecting victims to his will. Working with Rita and Aras, I felt genuinely useful and, which is more, like both law and good was being accomplished. It seems if I want to get involved in law enforcement, the Guvs are where I would most fit in.

None of these, however, yet have quite enough sway with me to incite that final moment when I may slam my fist on the proverbial table and shout “sign me up!” Each has its appeals, but so too does each have its flaws. Ultimately, choosing one philosophy to base your perception of the multiverse on is, surprise-surprise, a difficult choice.

IÂ’ll leave it there.
Patricia Velenci. Free Soul.



Pictured: please don't feed the devils.