Session Journal. March 22, 2023
We follow a small metallic hummingbird flies above a red and green landscape. The bird descends into the trees and whips through the low foliage, then soars upwards as a great cliff rises before it. Up and up the tiny bird flies and now we notice that it does not fly upwards next to a cliff, but next to a giant spire of rock, the base as large around as a mountain but narrowing, thousands of feet above, to the width of a needle.
Slowly rotating above the sharp tip, is a metallic ring, hundreds of miles across. The small bird follows the curve of the outside of the ring and dodges around to the inside. Now we see that the ring is hollow and within this hollows is a starfield. The bird descends into the darkness and the twinkling stars take shape as torches, and candles shining through windows. We descend into a city built into the inside of the hollow ring.
Down into the city streets we descend. Zipping down a broad avenue where crowds of people go about their business in bright artificial light. The hummingbird turns and zips down a side street, then another, and another, each more narrow than the last. Finally, the small creature flies down a narrow alley with brownstone steps to either side, boarded up windows and flickering lights. At the end of the ally, at the narrowest point, is a single door. The hummingbird perches on a nearby dimmed lamp and waits.
Time passes. Seconds ticking by until there is a groan from that single door. The door seems to bulge outwards until the latch gives and in a fiery explosion, the door bursts open, flame and smoke roaring into the narrow ally. Amid the fiery burst, a body tumbles on to the dark pavers. A ragged looking man with small horns on his head, a tiefling. Dirty, torn clothing still alight. He stands and charges back towards the door as more flame pours through. A massive, fiery face fills the open door and screams in frustration. The dirty tiefling grabs the edge of the door and slams it shut. The alley is plunged into darkness.
The tiefling collapses onto the ground. Half his face burned to cinders, left eye oozing; left arm shattered and broken. From within his vest, a small golden creature emerges and looks around. A small gold dragon with ruby red eyes.
“We made it Charles. We are here in Sigil! We are safe for now.” The small golden dragon slithers up to the tiefling's ruined face and pats him on the cheek. “No devil will violate the Lady of Pain’s contract. As long as we remain here, we are untouchable. Now stop lying about and get up, we have work to do.”
We find our heroes in the city of Sigil. Needing money to buy drugs, new heroes get a simple job from their employer, a tiefling mage named Charles.
The job is simple, Go to hell, trade a pickled head to a medusa, and return to Sigil, the City of Doors. I’m sure nothing will go wrong.