The appointed day has come. You step forward and open the scroll sent to you by the Platinum Dragon, and with a word, you are somewhere else.

You almost immediately get a sense of giddiness unlike anything you've felt before. It is as if the world were far below you but yet solidly beneath your feet. You stand in a room next to a portal, through which you were clearly thrust moments ago. Next to you stand a remarkable group of individuals, each very distinct from the other.

Opposite you stands a figure that makes all the individuals beside you seem small, however. A single man, the size of a giant, stands. He has silvery skin, clearly for effect; you know that his true form wears silver scales, but he must be wearing this form to give comfort to your humanoid minds.

"Well-met. Thank you for joining me. There are about as many as I had hoped.

"The hour of a great reckoning is coming. I have been planning an assault of unparalleled force upon the Nine Hells to trap and destroy Tiamat for some time. Plans are nigh well done and set in motion. To deter this, Tiamat is clearly working as well.

"It has come to light that one of her exarchs is guarding a ritualist of unparalleled potency. We do not know exactly what ritual they are working on, but if Tiamat is placing such importance on the ritual, we cannot afford to let it come to fruition. We want you to stop the exarch, Mornujhar, and capture or kill the ritualist.

“But it won’t be easy. You’ll need to pass through part of the Shadowfell known as Monadhan, the Domain of Betrayal, just to reach a portal that connects to Mornujhar’s fortress.

"In this place, you will be tempted to betray those you are with and, worse, those you love. You will have to be stout-hearted to face your fears and stay true to this task and to your better judgement.

"Please ask any questions you have and state any needs you may have to take on this task."

You know, somehow, in the back of your mid, that if you aid Bahamut, he will grant each of you a Wish as recompense, as well as allowing you to plunder your foes as you crush them.

Questions? Or any boons you want to ask from Bahamut?

Among the array of individuals here, one stands out for its prosaicness. He somewhat defies description except to say that he is "ordinary"--short-cropped brown hair, brown eyes, covered in a grey, patched cloak, wearing commoner's clothing, a simple belt about his waist.  If you look carefully, you note that the dagger at his belt is not too shabbily maid, that the simple amulet around his neck is well-made, but the sheer...ordinariness of the man tends to make one's eye skip past these.  He is almost too ordinary.

He clears his throat and says in a quiet tone, "What is it about this place that tempts one to betrayal? And how do we combat this?

"Also, what is the nature of this Mornujhar? Is he a dragon?"

   Agon had traveled to Sigil a couple of times, in the past. He had never gotten used to the place : he probably never would. There was the jarring layout of course, but the people there were at least as strange.

   As he spoke the word 'Consent' and was whisked away from his world, he fully expected to appear in a busy street of the City of Doors. First mistake, but he was not rattled for long, and quickly focused on those around him. Not threats, he was relieved to see.

   His attention was riveted to one in particular, and it was hard to even notice the others. The mage had not expected to find himself in the god's presence.

   After listening to His words, he bowed respectfully and spoke.

   "If I may ask : is time of the essence, in this matter ? Also, is there a rendezvous afterwards ?"

A plate-armoured dwarf appeared and stared around at the others.  Despite the quality of his equipment there was a scruffiness about him.  A chicken bone poked out from a long straggly beard which was also covered by an assortment of strange stains.

He stared up at the silver god, seemingly unconcerned by his grandeur.

"Hi there.  Sounds like ye know a' the right buttons tae push: a chance tae get back at Tiamat as well as a chance tae find some good gear.  And as for being stout-hearted - A'm yer dwarf."

He raised his axe and shook it.  "A'm ready when these others are."

He looked at the others keenly and then nodded as if in agreement with the god's choice.

Taking the letter as truth, Marice knew he would be teleported when he spoke the word. What he didn't know was that the people who were on the other side would look so natural.

"Consent" With that word, he was whisked away to a room with five others, one of them a very large, silver skinned giant. He didn't look like the regular Giant and Marice could sense something magical about him, and after he told of the quest against his sister Tiamat's exarchs, he knew it was Bahamut standing before him.

Hearing the details of their mission, Marice was nearly hopping around. He could barely contain himself when he said, "I don't have any questions. Let's get this going!"

Bahamut nods. "Insightful questions. Monadhan tempts to betrayal on many levels. It is a demi-plane on the Shadowfell reflection of the world of Nentir, created inadvertantly by Arantor, its dark lord. He created it when, during a war, he slaughtered an entire town of civilians, then murdered his own daughter in an effort to keep his crime a secret. Since Arantor’s first betrayal, Monadhan’s population has slowly grown as traitors, turncoats, and double-crossers of all stripes have found themselves surrounded by an inexorable mist, then deposited in Monadhan with little chance for escape.

"The domain itself rewards those willing to betray their own. If you betray your ally, the plane itself will assist you for a few moments, perhaps longer depending. There are rumors the place will even try to influence your actions.

"In addition, everyone there, save the six of you, is there because of their betrayals. None can be trusted easily or without proof, and even with proof, perhaps not in the long run.

"As for the exarch of Tiamat, he is a dragonborn blackguard. I do not think you will encounter him directly in Monadhan. Your goal is to reach his demesne through Monadhan. You will have to discern that path.





Bahamut smiles a grim smile, a gesture that fills the mortals with both joy and dread. "The complication is that nobody can normally leave that demi-plane. Nobody has been known to leave that prison--ever. However, I foresee that you are able to do so. Once you have done so, discovered Tiamat's secret and foiled her plan, use planar magic to return here. If you are unable to do so, I will intervene directly and return you myself, if needed.

"Time is of relative essence. I would assume that Tiamat's plan is well advanced and move judiciously. However, "near completion" could mean months of mortal time, not days. I definitely would not linger in Monadhan long."

He looks to see if there are any further questions.

Zog's eyebrow shoots up as he turns to the others.

"Greetings. I am the one who…" He stops himself, as if stopping a regular habit.

"I am Zog. I am a sorcerer of some skill, as well as a negotiator. While I am studied in magic, I do not cast rituals. Do any among you actually have the ability to craft rituals? And do you possess the inter-planar travel rituals that we would require?"

   Agon rubbed his short beard, deep in thought as he pondered the god's words.

   "It should not be too hard to find a portal leading there, here in the City of Doors" he answered the one named Zog absently. "I can also use a planar travel ritual."

   He straightened and turned to the man, as if just remembering something. "Oh, and I'm Agon, a mage of the Timeless Sanctuary. Well met" he said quietly.

Bahamut nodded. "There is such a portal here, and I have prepared adequate payment for you to persuade its keeper to send you there, despite your…lack of qualification for that journey. Zog, fear not, Agon has the means to return you should you escape Monadhan and reach Mornujhar's realm."

Other questions?

Having answered the group's questions, Bahamut calls in a low voice. A lithe human woman emerges and nods to the party.

"Rachaela will guide you to the appropriate doorway in Sigil. Follow her. Once you reach the appointed place, provide the astral diamonds in the pouch she is providing you to the person inside and say where you want to go. He may require some persuasion to allow you to pass, but you are more than up to the task. I look forward to speaking again in the near future; I will be watching."

And, in the blink of an eye, Bahamut is gone. Rachaela hands the pouch to Zog. "You hold this. Follow me."

She leads the group through the streets of Sigil. The first thing you notice is that this city is the most bizarrely diverse place you may have ever been. No two buildings are the same--indeed, the styles of buildings, even the material lining the streets, varies widely from building to building. Sturdy dwarven homes lined with stone walkways fall into the obsidian road which then turns to gravel in front of graceful wooden spires constructed by eladrin along wooden walkways. You have clearly emerged in the Guildhall Ward and start circling around a sloping path through that ward, with commerce being conducted on every side in front of a dizzying array of buildings. You regularly pass people haggling in front of them over use of their portal keys.


The portals themselves, as it soon becomes clear, are not just doors or gates. They can be spaces in the wall, gaps in the air, passels of clouds, or so on. As you pass out of the Market Ward, you walk through the bustling Guildhall WArd and through orderly and quiet Clerk's Ward, and yet do not stop there.

You can talk among yourselves and earn Bennies by roleplaying in the following thread:
link to a message in this game


It is not until the vestiges of civilization begin to break down that you stop. You are right on the edge of the darkest ward of Sigil--a slope looking down at a ramshackle packet of buildings known throughout the multiverse as the Hive. Rachaela stops and smiles a wry smile. "I will not make you go in there, friends, though I suspect individuals of your background might find it...interesting. No, follow me into there."

She points to a dark doorway to the right, where she enters. The room beyond is half-filled with mist. A wizened man looks up at the group, clearly surprised.

"Here, now," the old one says. "You are too bright and true a group to be here. Go away."

Feel free to make skill checks to figure out this area and to back up your roleplaying of interaction with this old fellow. Use skills you are good at--success or failure matters.

Zog smiles warmly and advances to the man. "Well met. We seek to go to the realm known as Monadhan. I am guessing that you have a portal to such a place? We come prepared well for the privilege of entering there and possibly never coming back."

He opens the sack and shows the contents to the man, though he does not hand the man the sack as of yet.

11:26, Today: Zog the Faceless rolled 31 using 1d20+24. Diplomacy with old man.

Harald stared at the old man for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Ach!  Away wi' ye ma wee man.  Bright and True!  Surely ye're havin' us on?"

He waved a grubby hand at the rest of the group.  "Ah canna speak for this lot but Ah doubt ah would be included in any such description.  Now just dae yer job an' let us pass."


22:36, Yesterday: Harald Gaptooth rolled 20 using 1d20+16 with rolls of 4. Insight check.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:29, Wed 21 Aug 2013.

The old man looks at the dwarf, his head cocked. "No. You may not enter."

He looks down at the bag and gasps. He then regains his composure. "Ah, shiny. But, no. I will not send such as you to that place."