Welcome, traveller. If this book has found you, then you’ve likely already heard whispers of Sigil, that impossibility of a city which floats somewhere and nowhere, encased in a ring without beginning or end. Many call it the City of Doors, and rightly so. From Sigil they say, you can walk to anywhere.
Sigil is a paradox, it lies at the centre of the multiverse, and yet it is within none of it. Surrounded by the infinite planes yet belonging to none, it is a neutral ground, a meeting place, a battlefield, a marketplace, a prison, and a sanctuary, maybe all in one. What makes Sigil truly wondrous (and dangerous) is its portals. Every door, window, archway, or crack in the wall could be a portal to another world, if you have the right key. These keys are not always keys in the traditional sense—they could be a tune, a word, a thought, a feather from a phoenix’s tail, or a copper coin from a forgotten empire. Knowing which is which is half the battle; surviving the journey is the other half.
Presiding over all is The Lady of Pain. She floats silently through the streets, veiled in mystery. No one rules Sigil but her. She speaks to no one, and none speak to her and lives. Gods are not welcome in Sigil and only invited by personal invitation from The Lady of Pain. Sigil has no sky, no sun. Instead, a strange gray light glows from the inner ring above. The city curves impossibly around you, no matter where you stand. Gravity pulls you toward the ground under your feet, even if that ground is, to others, the ceiling. It’s disorienting at first, you’ll get used to it or go mad.
And the people? Everything. Everyone. From everywhere. Demons walk beside Celestials and Humans, Elves break bread with the undead, and Dwarves drink in Bugbear owned taverns.