Acaste is the ghoul-queen of the Dead Nations, a
slavering flesh-eater who holds her pack together
with fear of the Silent King and sheer bullying.
She is tough, strong, and despite her appearance,
clever. She is one to watch, to be sure.
A huge iron golem laboring away in the mysterious
siege tower in the middle of Sigil, Coaxmetal is
metal given life with an urge toward destruction.
It is immense in size and its goal seems to be
the creation of weaponry.
The ghostly apparition, Deionarra, claims she
knows you, that you are her "Love."
Whatever keeps her on the physical plane must be
powerful indeed, for her to stave off death so
long. Dying does not seem to have improved her
This elderly scribe looks very old... his skin is
wrinkled and has a slight trace of yellow, like
old parchment. Dead charcoal gray eyes lie within
an angular face... a non-human face, as the ears
narrow to points. A large face, as the ears
narrow to points. A large white beard flows down
the front of his black robes like a waterfall. He
coughs occasionally. The book he works in front
of is huge, and seems to contain many names.
Ebb Creakknees is an old Harmonium member who
seems to be content enough to sit in his chair at
the Smoldering Corpse and run his mouth off to
whomever will listen to him. He's a font of
information, if you can get past all the
Somehow this drone acheived sentience and
overthrew the modron in charge. Before it could
lay any serious plans, though, the failsafe of
the modron cube kicked in and placed the drone
into stasis. Now you've activated it again. Good
Fell is a fallen dabus, a former servant of the
Lady of Pain and one of the fes remaining priests
of teh dead god of portals, Aoskar. He has
achieved some renown as a tattoo artist, somehow
bringing his pictures to a kind of life. Simply
return to Fell with tales of your exploits and he
can sketch them on your skin, and allow you to
draw strength from them.
Forked-Tongue is a victim of Trias, whom he calls
"the Betrayer." He signed a contract
with the deva that consigned him to acts of
charity until Trias is dead. He makes his home in
the bones of Ul-Goris in the Outlands, hiding
from mortal and immortal alike. He has knowledge
and items that may prove useful.
Lady of Pain
The Lady is a mystery. She's widely regarded to
be the de facto ruler of Sigil, its protector and
its victim. She is said to guard the doors of the
Cage against the myriad schemes of the gods, to
be the ultimate expression of balance in teh
multivers, to be the prisoner of the City of
Doors. There are thousands of stories about her -
one even tells that she's actually six giany
squirrels with a headdress, robe, and ring of
levitation and illusions - but none of them can
be answered. She is a true enigma, a puzzle with
If someone displeases her - by upsetting the
balance of the city or worhipping her - the Lady
may punish the offender. Her punishment ranges
from the Mazes - a twisting, turning hell with a
cleverly disguised exit - to the casting of her
shadow across the transgressor, covering him with
slashes and gouges from her sharp-edged shadow,
leaving behind a pile of gore and viscera.
Neither option is paricularly attractive.
The master of the Bones of the Night, Lothar
keeps shelves full of skulls in his salon. They
speak long-forgotten secrets, their whispers
filling *his* skull with arcane knowledge. He may
well be one of the few in existence who can truly
destroy you. The folk of Sigil speak his name in
hushed, reverent tones, and seem eager to avoid
Lycanthropy is a sickness passed on by the bite
of an infected creature, turning the unfortunate
victim into a 'were-beast', a creature that is
half-human, half-beast. There are a number of
creatures that pass along this disease, some of
them quite noble, others fearsom and
awe-inspiring. The rat is neither of these, and
its lycanthropic cousins are the skulkers of the
were-world, the hiders in shadow, the despised.
Their personalities all seem to reflect this.
Mantuok, the voice of Many-as-One, the cranium
rat collective, is an ingratiating little bastard
whose best quality is that he is subservient to
those with power. He's also a mage of some
talent, and it seems he'll sell out his master to
achieve an advantage for himself. He seems to
hate you with a passion. Perhaps he's jealous of
Pharod Wormhair is the Collector King of the
Hive, a man crippled in body and spirit. His
mind, however, seems to be as sharp as ever. He
rules the Buried Village with an iron fist,
keeping even that disorderly rabble in line. He
is a sneak, a thief, and he seems to know far too
much about you, though he does not reveal it
without ... coaxing.
This disgusting mass of heads towers lonesome in
the fiery wastes of Avernus, the first layer of
Baator. Apparently, it is the composed of the
heads of liars and ill-meaning sages, a
punishment for those who squandered the gift of
knowledge. You have been told that the Pillar
holds the answers to your mortality, the precious
secret that has been driving you for these long
All the stories you heard about Ravel Puzzlewell
prepared you for a loathsome monster who would
devour your soul. If she intented that, though,
she chose a strange way to go about it - she is
undeniably insane, trapped in a black-barbed maze
of thorns and evil. You can't help but pity her,
despite her great power: She has lost everything
and doesn't even know it.
Leader of the skeletons of the Dead Nations,
Hargrimm is the skeleton priest who speaks the
words of the Silent King to his followers. With
Stale Mary the zombie and Acaste the Ghoul-Queen
as the two other corners, he makes the third of
the triumvirate that holds the Dead Nations in
uneasy balance. Tipping the balance one way or
another might incite chaos.
This mysterious spectral entity is responsible
for delivering the killing blow on Ravel during
her last moments in the Black-Barbed Maze. Who
this adversary is is unknown.
Trias is a deva, a celestial being from the Upper
Planes. You first encountered him in the prison
of Curst, imprisoned in an obsidian bubble. His
beauty is astonishing to behold; the aura of
goodness rolls from him like a glorious wave of
light. His wings are charred down to the bone,
yet he seems to bear his suffering with pride.