The Outlands

Sigil was alive. At least, the Cage seemed alive, what with the shove and bustle of life pulsing through its streets. A body couldn’t turn around in the city without bumping into humans, modrons, tanar’ri, fiends, devas, bariaur — just about every known type of being (and a few of the unknown kind, too). There were petitioners, planars, and, of course, the ever-present (and ever-clueless) primes.

It’s easy to spot primes who’re new to the planes - they’ve got an addle-coved look on their faces. Fact is, a group of ’em stood flat in the middle of the road like a ghoul's breakfast, the rest of the multiverse flowing around them (and a berk or two picking their pouches for loose jink). They’d heard of the endless planes where a cutter could find things he’d never even dreamed of, but now, having made it to Sigil, they didn’t know what to do next.

The group’s fighter unfolded the large map they’d gotten from a sage in Shadowdale. 'Course, the map was next to useless in this case — after all, few sages in the Prime know the dark of the planes. “Okay,” said the basher, his eyes roaming the map. “There should be a door-thing to Glorium around here, somewhere. ...”

“No, you fool!” snapped the rogue. “That’s the gate-town for Gladsheim. We’re going to Bytopia. Where’s its gate-town?” “Don’t know,” said the basher, looking over the map, k “but how far can it be?”

Just then, a low hiss cut magically through the crowd, tickling their ears and making them turn around. The whisper snaked back to a peddler and his stand in a nearby alley — an alley that wasn’t there a minute before. The peddler grinned at them. They tumbled to the hint and moved slowly toward his stand.

The peddler was a short cutter — not short like an elf or a dwarf, but more like a tall body that’d been twisted down into a humped shape.

The primes, though, were interested in the glittering objects that. danced in the air about him. Silver skulls, leaves, disks, and multi-pointed stars shone and spun like bright moons around a dead world.

“So, you 're looking for the chant, are you?” asked the peddler. “Looking for . . . information?”

The basher nodded, watching the sparkling objects. “About the Plane of Concordant - uh, I mean, the Outlands.” The peddler let out a barking laugh. With a palsied hand, he reached up and snatched one of the skulls out of the air. He offered it to the fighter like a piece of fruit. “Ask, ” he said. “Point and ask. ”

The basher carefully took the skull in his hands, barely holding onto it for a second before letting it go. It floated up and hung in the air, slowly turning to face him. He pointed at the silvery skull with a cautious finger. “Okay, uh, what’s the gate-town for Bytopia?” Clicking softly, the skull said nothing for a few seconds. Then it began to speak, giving the quick chant on the town of Tradegate. The ped- dler smiled, and a sale was made.

The primes moved away from the stand, passing the skull back and forth among themselves as they bumped their way through the crowded streets of the Cage. The rogue took a last look around, but the peddler, his wares, and the alley itself had disappeared.

If a cutter's going to get along on the Outlands, she's got to know her way around. A blood wants adventure and danger in life, and that only happens by exploring. The thing is, she needs a place to explore. Now, the planes are vast and there's lots of danger out there, so there's no loss of places a body can explore and risk her hide in.

But that cutter's got to have more than just dangerous places to explore. She's got to have places to eat, sleep, and get healed after a long day of adventuring. Maybe that cutter needs a space to accumu late experience, somewhere she can explore and live to talk about it, too. Safety in the whirling ring of the storm is what that berk needs, and that's part of what the Outlands give. 'Course, it ain't all quiet gardens and fine sweetmeats, either. Just like on the Great Ring, a berk's got to know where she's welcome and where not to rattle the doors. It can be just as dangerous here as in the deepest pits of Baator.

Here's the chant: Folks often make a big mistake in thinking about the Outlands. They figure the essence of the plane is true neutrality, and that means nothing happens. Leatherheads! True neutrality means there's a balance of everything. For every good there's an evil, and for every land of order there's a swirling morass of chaos, but that can make for a lot more action than a body'll find in the most chaotic planes. That's the dark of the Outlands.

This section describes some of those lands: the red-brick Palace of Judgment, the maddening caverns of the mind flayer god, the gate-towns of Ribcage, Plague-Mort, Glo rium, and a host of other wonders that make up the Outlands. While this is the gazetteer of the land, it doesn't even try to describe every place the characters could go, only a few of the more interesting possibilities for adventure. Some of these are gate-towns on the verge of slipping off to adjacent planes, while others are the more dangerous or even useful realms on the plane.

Powerful & Mighty

Of course Gods live on the plain so it is hard to describe mightier beings. But you have to consider this section for the more noteable Outlands encounters.

• Annam (giant, hidden)
• Celtic Pantheon: Dadghda, Diancecht, Goibh niu, Lugh, Mannan mac Lir, Morrigan, Oghma
• Chronepsis (dragon)
• Dugmaren Brightmantle (dwarf)
• Gilean (Krynn)
• Gond (Toril)
• Gizemnid (beholder)
• Ilsensine (illithid)
• Norns (Norse)
• Oghma (Toril)
• Semuanya (lizard man)
• Sheela Peryroyl (halfling)
• Shekinester (naga)
• Shinare (Krynn)
• Silvanus (Toril)
• Thoth (Egyptian)
• Tvashtri (Indian)
• Vergadain (dwarf)
• Yen-Wang-Yeh (Chinese)

The Mimir

The mimir (pronounced mih-MEAR, and also called the Well of Knowledge or the Speaking Skull) is a minor magical item available for sale in Sigil. Basically, it’s a device that gives answers to spoken questions, as long as those answers have been recorded by the mimir’s creator. Mimirs can shed light on any number of subjects that are dark, but the most common type gives a brief tour of the Outlands and its gate-towns.

Mimirs come in many forms - disks, cubes, leaves, stars, sunflowers (popular with druids), human and animal skulls, and plenty of other shapes. They're all made of an unknown silveiy metal, which might be what makes ’em work. The metal shines and reflects light with a rainbow hue. If a body looks close, he'll see fine lines drawn in tight patterns over its surface.

To hear what a mimir's got to say, its owner just points at it and asks a question. It’ll click for a few seconds, searching for any chant it has on the subject. If it finds any, it’ll speak up, giving the answer in' an instructive, conversational tone.

A mimir can also tell a body where he stands in the Outlands, but only in a general way. It can’t give exact distances or location, it’ll say which ring outward from the spire he’s standing in. That’s an important thing to know, berk, because the closer a body gets to the spire, the more magic drops away.

Mimirs only work on the Outer Planes. If brought to the Inner, Astral, Ethereal, or Prime Material Planes, they’ll just babble a load of gibberish. Take it back to the Outer Planes, though, and it’ll work again.

Certain spells can block a mimir, too. A dispel magic will temporarily stop it from working, and spells such as fecblemind will make it babble. It won’t work in a silence 15' radius or a dead magic zone, but it recovers instantly if taken out of the spell’s reach.

These devices don’t often get lost. They float naturally, and follow their owners just like ioun stones. ’Course, that means it’s easy to mark a new prime - he’s the one with the skull bouncing along behind him. For this reason, most folks keep their mimir in boxes, backpacks, or sacks. But they’ve got to take it out to use it. A mimir won’t work unless it’s floating freely, whether in air or in water.

No one knows the dark of where mimirs come from, but they’re commonly for sale in Sigil and the gate-towns, usually from peddlers or berks in taverns. Some say they come from the chaotic good planes, but many a sod who’s found their chant barmy or out of date has sworn they were spawned in the pits of Baator. Most mimirs sell for about 2,000 gold pieces, but a sharp cutter has a better chance of getting one by trad¬ ing for another magical item. One mysterious peddler in Sigil who sells mimirs often takes other magical items in trade, including cursed ones.

A mimir should be treated as a metal object when figuring a saving throw against damage.

Weather

Weather is constantly mild. There is little wind. Mild rain. It never gets too hot or too cold.

Day and Night

Outlands has a regular 24 hour cycle of day and night.

Hazards & Phenomena

The ground constantly shifts so it is hard to measure where the rings that make up the magic circle are at any time.

Sites & Treasures

The rest of this section shows a cutter just what he might expect to find in his travels across the Land. First, there’s a good look at each of the gate-towns There, he can get the dark on a number of subjects: a general description of each town and its people; who’s in charge of the place; where and how to use the gate; interesting sites to take in or avoid; and the current chant from the streets about what’s really going on.

Then, a cutter can read about various other locations in the Land . These spots include small villages, camps, realms and domains scattered across (and under) the surface.

Welcome to the Outlands, berk. Try to live long enough to learn a thing or two.

Automata

Estimated Population: 10,000

(reported as less in some volumes)

The Town:

The most perfect and ordered burg in the Outlands, Automata seems more like a machine than a living place. Inside its rectangular walls, the city’s laid out as clean as a cartographer’s study.

The town’s a perfect grid; it’d take a leatherhead to get lost here. The buildings look like they were stamped by the same hand, and places are made different only where needed (for example, a stable has larger entrances than a tavern). Buildings rise up one to four stories, but each story’s always 12 feet tall and carved of the same shining, gray-red stone. Bits of color in a sign or awning liven the place up a bit, but that’s all got to be cleared by the Council of Order (see “The Hoi Polloi”).

All businesses of a like type set up on the same block. A body can’t run a tavern in a lodging block, but he can open that same tavern across the street in an entertainment block. ’Course, this means there’s a half- dozen smithies within a hammer’s throw of each other, but a sod in a mansion might have a long walk to the nearest greengrocer.

The Gate:

In the middle of the town sits the Gate to Mechanus, in a block all by itself. The gate’s a great disk on its side, a turning, toothed gear. Travelers to Mechanus hop up on the disk and disappear. Where they come out depends on the time of day, the position of the disk, and probably a lot of other arcane factors. The government’s got a whole building of accountants, calculators, and computers (the old-fashioned, human¬ oid type) who work at figuring out where the gate’ll drop a body at any particular time.

The gate’s surrounded by government buildings, with a wide exit spireward. This exit, Modron Way, is for the modrons who regularly spill out of the gate and start their long march around the Outlands. The march is called the Procession or the Modron Walkabout, but only Primus, the lord of the modrons, knows the true dark of it.

The gate’s well guarded during the day to stop travelers and other barmies from just jumping on. To be cleared for gate travel, a body’s got to fill out stacks of forms in a number of different offices (’course, the offices all look the same, but that’s Automata for you). Nighttime, though, when the law says folks should be sleeping, only a few guards watch over the gate. That’s when most cutters try to sneak into the plane of ulti¬ mate law.

The Populace:

Most of the natives are either peti¬ tioners of law or folks (both planars and primes) who hope to profit from them. There are lots of humans, elves, and other mortal races, but few halfling, hin, gnomes, or kender/Once in a while a body’ll run across a baatezu or archon in town on business for its lord. And there are always modrons — working, exploring, and marching off here and there for their own reasons.

The petitioners in town are easy to mark. They stick to a common uniform (currently, a red-gray robe of ankle length, bound by a white sash). “One dress, one mind,” they like to say, figuring it’ll help them make Automata so lawful that it slides right into Mechanus. Other planars and some primes tend to garb themselves in flashier colors.

Smart cutters can probably guess which faction’s the strongest in town: the Fraternity of Order (or, in common chant, the Guvners). These bashers’ve got the bureaucracy of Automata in a stranglehold; they fill all low- and mid-level posts. Berks who play games with the laws of the town get marked by the Guvners, an;l they’ve been playing games with the laws a lot longer.

The Hoi Polloi:

The high-ups in town are the three members of the Council of Order - they hold the ulti¬ mate legitimate power. The Council’s made up of Cap¬ tain Arstimis, a githzerai fighter of the town guard; Pelnis the Clockmaker, a human representing the crafts¬ men; and Serafil, a tiefling and priestess of Lei Kung, who represents the temple districts. Officially, nothing can get done in town without their nods.

Mirroring the Council of Order is the secret and illegal Council of Anarchy, also with three seats. This.- council’s made up of a githzerai criminal named Leg- gis Scrog, a female human vagrant named Ravis Cor- cuncewl, and a baatezu erinyes called Aurach the Fair. They rule the night and the mysterious Underworld (see “Local Sites”), and, without their hods, nothing illegal gets done in town.

Local Sites

: Most travelers will find that Automata gives ’em the yawn. Outside of the gate to Mechanus and its sur¬ rounding governmental offices, the town’s a collection of blocks assigned to lodging, entertainment, industry, crafts, and more government.

Things’re more interesting in the Underground. It’s a secret city of chaos lurking beneath the clean, precise streets of order. Twisted passageways, hiding holes, concealed lairs, forbidden temples - it’s got all the darkness and unrest swept down from the world above. Here the Council of Anarchy rules, and anything’s fair game. Fact is, many planars support the place. If they didn’t. Automata would be so pure that it would’ve washed into the clockwork plane long ago.

A cutter with jink to throw around can find natives who know ways to get down below. As a public service, though, one entrance is well known. The back of McGuvol's Stabling Establishment has a cast-iron circular staircase leading downward. It’s sealed during daylight hoirrs, but it gives the Clueless and other first- timers an easy way into the Underground. The bad news is that the stairs are watched by the proxies of Primus and other forces of law, and sods who come and go are marked.

Current Chant:

A local explorer named Loctus has reported a hill to the north that just suddenly appeared, a hill he says is “growing, like a hive or a boil.” Make that said, because the bubber’s since disappeared, and the bureaucracy denies any responsibility for his fate.

Important Sites:

1. The Gate to Mechanus
2. The Council of Order building
3. Modron Way
4. McGuvol’s Stabling Establishment
5. The Divine Machine, reportedly the best inn in Automata (Tourlac the Halfling, proprietor).

Bedlam

Estimated Population:

50,000

The Town:

Some towns in the Outlands have good parts and bad parts. Bedlam, on the other hand, has bad parts and worse parts. It’s spread out like a giant fan against the side of Maurash, a hill of volcanic stone and residue. At the bottom of the hill (the base of the fan) is the Gate to Pandemonium, and from there eight worn roads spread outward and run like spines up the slope.

The worst of it is at the bottom of the hill, in what locals call the Gatemouth district. That area pays the music for being so close to the gate - it’s strangled by chaos from the plane beyond. Here, kips and shops of every architectural style jam together at can’t-be angles, with little regard for their neighbors. Throw in strangely-curved walls and corners that seem to alter space itself, and you’ve got the kind of place that makes a berk look twice.

Head uphill, though, and the burg starts to take a saner turn - the roads get a bit more workable, the buildings a touch more steady. The really top-shelf quarters (top-shelf for Bedlam, anyway) are found near the top of the hill, in what’s called the Citadel district.

The Gate:

A sod would have to tiy pretty hard to miss the door to Pandemo¬ nium. It’s at the bottom of the hill, inside a huge tower of black obsidian as tall as the hill itself. (On top of the tower is what looks like a humanoid hand, reaching skyward. Some say the gate and the hand are the remains of a forgotten god who tried to escape the Howling Land - unsuccessfully, they add. Others believe the town once sat next to a great vol¬ cano, now gone, and the tower is what’s left of the vol¬ canic plug. A few folks even mark the tower as an artistic rendering by Hruggek, Cyric, or Zeboim. Most, though, don’t really give a pike.)

The gate’s inside the base of the tower, with a half- dozen entrances around the perimeter. These entrances, called blastgates, are set in archways of iron and stone. Day and night, they spew out a rank, howling wind that sweeps up and over and city.

The Populace:

Primes who’ve been to both Bedlam and Xaos might think the people in each town are pretty much the same - barmy. But, unlike the natives of Xaos, Bedlamites are malicious, petty, and hateful. No one knows why, though a sage once claimed the dif¬ ference is that the people of Xaos have come to terms with their madness, but the people of Bedlam have not. The sod was quickly torn to bits by a pack of Bed¬ lamites, but no one’s sure if that meant he was right or wrong.

Residents of Bedlam include gnolls, bugbears, and humans, with a good mixture of the other mortal races, none of them all that sane. The Bleak Cabal is the strongest faction in town, and often tries to talk berks into going through the gate, which tends to end their mortal lives.

The natives of Bedlam are twitchy and self- absorbed, and many of them hear (and argue with) voices that seem td come out of the air. After a few days in Bedlam, a basher tends to hear voices himself, voices that tell him to let go of reason, emotion, and, eventually, sanity.

The Hoi Polloi:

The wizard Tharick Bleakshadow is the current Keeper of Bedlam. He’s a member of the Xaositects, and a body flipping through Kragspaw’s Ponderous Book of Words would probably find his pic¬ ture next to “dotty old wizard.” Fact is, he’s senile, as much of a threat to his own cutters as to the enemies of Bedlam. No one ever seems to know what he’ll do next (Bleakshadow included), but no one’s been able to boot him out, either.

Apart from the Keeper, three groups of Bashers put the hard hand to troublemakers in town. Farthest up on the hill, the Windlancers patrol the Citadel district - they’re more or less a sane bunch, and they try to pro¬ tect the place. Down around midtown, a shakier group of semi-criminals called the Sarex hold sway. They’re more like personal bodyguards, though the bodies they guard are usually their own. Finally, down in the depths, near the gate, a band of adventuring sods tries to stem the tide of madness. Not surprisingly, they’re known as the Misguided.

Local Sites:

Each of the three main areas of Bedlam has its own flavor. The safest of the lot is the Citadel district, the arc of strong buildings on the hill- . top. The powerful bloods who live up there want to profit from the gate without being crushed by its mad¬ ness. A few, like Althax Darkfleece, even hope to cure it. Darkfleece is a bariaur priestess of Shekinester, and she looks after the insane in her kefep,. the Sanatorium. She also provides a resting-place to go’Dtkscreatures who’ve been battered by Pandemonium.

Midtown is the wide area between the Citadel’s curve and the immediate surroundings of the gate. Here, a visitor’ll find most of the inns and taverns in town, along with a full assortment of barmies. The Dark Draft and the Bonechill Wind are both popular kips, but the best place for travelers (especially cutters of an artistic bent) is Weylund’s Inn. Run by a dwarf named Pockmarked Weylund, it’s an island of quiet in a addle-coved town.

The area right around the entrance to Pandemonium is known as Gatemouth, the stomping ground for most of the openly nasty and evil-aligned beings in town. The lowest (and most popular) dive in Gatemouth is the Eye and Dagger, run by a tiefling named Grist. This is a common hangout for fiends, tanar’ri, and. the berks who choose to deal with them.

Current Chant:

Word on the street warns of an upcoming invasion of Bedlam. Some think the bashers will come through the gate, while others say they’ll come from the Outlands on their way to the gate. Berks who listen to these rumors should remember who they’re dealing with. The town’s been attacked before, but never when the locals say it’s going to happen. Pla- nars joke that when the barmies stop talking about an invasion, then you’ll see the armies arrive.

Another problem is Bleakshadow. He’s been acting even twitchier than normal, complaining that some dark masters are plotting to overthrow him. Most people think he’s just having delusions, but the wizard’s torched a number of homes and inns in the Citadel and Midtown districts.

Important Sites:

1. The Black Tower - Gate to Pandemonium
2. The Keep - home of Bleakshadow
3. The Sanatorium
4. The Windlancers’ Headquarters
5. Weylund’s Inn
6. Supposed base of the Sarex
7. The Eye and Dagger
8. Headquarters of the Misguided

Curst

Estimated Population:

15,000

The Town:

Curst is a near-circular walled city, with the Gate to Carceri right at the center of town. Four main streets lead straight out from the gate to exits in the wall. Within its wall, though, Curst is split into sep¬ arate districts by five ring roads. Like ripples from a stone dropped in a pool, the five roads spread out from the center of town, each one larger than the last.

In the middle of town, a body’ll find the government offices, the treasury, and the jail, in addition to the gate. This area’s called file Gate Square by the locals, and it’s surrounded by the first ring road. (Most primes are annoyed by the fact that it’s not called the Gate Circle, but they usually get over it pretty fast.) Beyond the first ring are the best homes in Curst, built for the folks with the most jink in their pockets. Beyond the second ring are the merchants and warehouses, beyond the third are craftsmen and their workshops, and beyond the fourth a're the stables, taverns, and kips of laboring sods. Beyond the fifth ring road is the wall around the city.

The inside of the wall’s covered with razorvine and patrolled by the Wall Watch. The bashers of the Watch don’t seem to worry about letting visitors into Curst, but they cast a peery eye on any berk trying to leave. Unless they see proof of immediate business elsewhere, the standing order is to keep folks in - an order that’s backed up by the razorvine.

It doesn’t take an addle-cove to see that the natives are basically prisoners in their own burg. But, instead, they look at it as locking out the rest of the multiverse.

The Gate:

The Gate to Carceri is a four-pillared arch made entirely of black razorvine, its center glowing with a ruddy hue. Cutters who step into the arch are consumed by the hue, finding themselves on Othrys, the uppermost level of Carceri.

Despite being in the middle of town, the gate doesn’t see much use to or from the plane. It could be due to chant that marks Carceri as a plane of imprisonment, making Outlanders unwilling to go in, and Carce- rians unable to come out.

The Populace:

Few people in Curst are true natives. Most of them have come from - or been sent from - somewhere else. They’re refugees, escapees, and exiles, all driven by hatred and a desire for revenge against the bashers who sent them packing in the first place. Many of these poor sods think of Curst as just a base of operations. They’re always trying to raise this or that army, so they can return and make their enemies pay the music - after capturing Curst itself, of course. Plans like that usually end up as drunken complaints in the bars. But the berks keep at it, and “politics” in Curst often means large-scale massacres, with blood running in the gutters.

Most residents are so busy whining, complaining, and plotting that they never actually leave the walled city. Humans, githzerai, creatures of the Lower Planes, and evil humanoids are common, and most’ll let a body be (unless said body has something they need for their plans). However, they take slights easily, and they hold a mean grudge, often as long as they can draw breath.

The Revolutionary League is extremely strong in Curst, and often acts to stop those seeking power. Fact is, their goal is to smash all structures of power. But the League’s been brokon up into quarreling sub-factions, all claiming to be true Anarchists, each seeking the destruction of the others.

The Hoi Polloi:

The Burgher of Curst is the biggest and nastiest basher in town, and he usually has a strong base of support. The current Burgher is Tovus Giljaf, a githzerai wizard, once factol of the Athar before jealous rivals turned stag and bounced him out. Now he (and others) are building a power base for their revenge, which will mean the death of every Defier in Sigil. At least, that’s what Giljaf says.

Local Sites:

The Burgher’s house is on the Gate Square, along with the jail, government offices, and treasury. The rest of the city is a black, unpleasant tumble of buildings, inns, and rival headquarters. One spot worth mentioning is the Quartered Man, an alehouse catering to various rulers-in-exile.

Current Chant:

The latest army being assembled is by (former) Baron Yurel Zamthaskar, the cpmmander of the Wall Watch. He plans to invade his prime-material homeland, but the Anarchists might have a say in the matter.

Ecstasy

Estimated Population:

25,000

The Town:

The first thing most visitors notice about Ecstasy is the plinths. Fact is, Ecstasy’s known as the “City of Plinths,” because the landscape’s dotted with them - tall monoliths made of stone or iron. Something the Clueless might not notice is all the bodies on top of the plinths. These cutters are petitioners of Elysium, who sometimes sit up on a plinth for days, just contemplating the multiverse.

The rest of the town is pretty much like the petitioners, with no one in a great hurry to do anything. Ecstasy’s a pastoral community where bodies have all they need, a town of plenty and peace. Most of the trouble comes from outsiders, and a true native of Ecstasy defines an “outsider” as “any berk who got here after I did.”

As a town, Ecstasy’s a sprawling, open place, with large manors and buildings grouped around the major crossroads. Gardens, orchards, and other greenery make up the rest, and, of course, plinths are everywhere. It’s a mixed pot of styles and forms, but most visitors find the end result somehow very pleasing.

The Gate:

There’s a monolith made of ivory close to the center of town, known to residents as the Bone Plinth. Cutters who make it to the top’ll find a pool of quicksilver, and stepping into the pool takes a body to Amoria, on the banks of the river Oceanus. That’s about a day’s travel from the Elysian city of Release From Care.

The Populace:

The petitioners on the plinths don’t usually get in a body’s way. But the rest of the people are just too sodding impulsive for most visitors. They’re friendly, all right, but very direct - if they’re interested in something a berk’s got, they’re likely to grab it for a closer look. A native here figures his first impulse is the best and acts on it, without letting thought slow him down. Why should he flap his bone-box over some¬ thing as airy as law versus chaos, when he could be focusing on his personal growth?

Ciphers make up a good chunk of the planar population, along with petitioners of Ishtar, Majere, Misha- kal, Chauntea, and Lathander. The town’s often crowded with halflings and other little people, too, since Sheela Peryroyl’s realm is only three to eighteen days’ walk spireward.

Evil is shunned in Ecstasy, with “evil” meaning anything that blocks a body’s personal growth. Theft is a crime, but borrowing is not. Trespassing is a crime, but exploring is not. A rogue with a fast tongue can usually talk his way out of trouble, but berks like that don’t stay in town long, not with curious natives always tiying to find out what makes them tick.

The Hoi Polloi:

There are two main high-ups in Ecstasy, one for the day and one for the night. In day¬ light, the Sun Master rules the town, garbed in golden robes, her face hidden behind a golden disk. The current Sun Master is Regialia Tonn, formerly of Greyhawk, and her BrightsteelLBlade is enough to convince most berks that her word is law. She’s backed up by three solars the townspeople like to call Hinkus, Blinkus, and Nod (though other names get used, too, depending on a body’s mood).

The Sun Master’s never seen at night. That’s when the Dark Hunter rules, riding with his pack of moon dogs. He wears the silver armor of a warrior, his helmet glowing like a mirror in the moonlight. Currently, the Dark Hunter is Karo Jantar, a native of the Outlands and member of the Ciphers. Fie stalks the town only at night, never seen when the sun’s in the sky.

In general, -the Sun Master and the Dark Hunter deal with serious problems, like a swarm of beholders or a group of primes rampaging in the beer garden. Townspeople take care of the smaller stuff, often form¬ ing quick courts with the first ten sods they can grab off the street. These people’s courts make short work of justice, for better or for worse.

Both the Sun Master and the Dark Hunter hold their own courts, one in Solrise Tower and the other in Moondark Tower. These places are barred shut when their masters aren’t in charge of the town.

There’s another high-up in Ecstasy: the Philosopher King, who rules both day and night, but only inside the walls of the Philosopher’s Court (see “Local Sites”). The current Philosopher King is Kagorius, a neutral and lawful wizard from somewhere on the Prime Material Plane.

Local Sites:

Travelers looking for a break from the dangers of the Outlands often come to Ecstasy. Here, there are temples to powers that’ll sometimes help a cutter out — Lathander, Isis, Enlil, Majere, Mishakal, and others. Each temple’s got support brnldiwgs for the petitioners and priests.

Visitors can stop at the Philosopher’s Court, a wide, enclosed area where different factions from the Land come to debate and argue. 'Course, a basher used to making his point with a sword’ll have a harder time than most, since a special enchantment protects all those within the court’s walls. As long as there’s a Philosopher King in office, no one’s hurt by attacks, poi¬ son, or any personal harm. Sure, old age and natural causes can still get a body in the dead-book, but the enchantment sees to it that bashers have to win argu¬ ments by thought, not by force.

With all its factions and their clashing ideas, the court’s a powerful anchor, keeping Ecstasy from sliding off into Elysium. On the other hand, petitioners who want to help it slide sometimes come here and join a debate, tiying to get all the bashers in a like mind. Kago- rius has a piece of advice for folks like that: “Good luck.”

Another popular spot in town is Revelhome, described by one Torillian sage of great repute as “the ultimate festhall.” It’s the kind of place that’d please the most jaded Sensate - fine wines, mule-kicking meads, rich foods, pleasant dalliances, and deep romances. Its mistress is Madame Millani, assumed to be human though she’s always veiled and hooded. Bubbers should also plan some time to wander through the gardens, known for their statues of humans and humanoid creatures.

Current Chant:

Natives say that Kagorius is tiring of his rule (and of dealing with so many “leatherheads” with strange attitudes all day long). If he steps down, the Philosopher’s Court will lose its enchantment and vio¬ lence could break out. Fact is, the factions will probably bash each other barmy until a new king is chosen. But that won’t happen until one blood’s able to convince all the others that he’s the right body for the job. And don’t forget what advice Kagorius might have on that.

Important Sites:

1. The Bone Plinth
2. The Moondark Tower
3. The Solrise Tower
4. The Philosopher’s Court
5. The temple districts
6. Revelhome

Excelsior

Estimated Population:

25,000 (including the picket keeps)

The Town:

When a prime talks about a city where the streets are paved with gold, he’s usually flapping his bone-box over nothing. But when a planar talks about a place like that, chances are he’s talking about Excel¬ sior. Here, the town and streets are made of a yellow brick mixed with flecks of enchanted silver and steel — the whole place literally glows. It’s a rich, ambient light, strong enough to read by in the evening, but not so strong that travelers can’t find some sleep at a kip. The buildings feel warm all the time, too, so the only fires needed are for cooking.

The town’s not walled off - it don’t need to be, berk. Anywhere from three to a dozen floating castles (called picket keeps) circle Excelsior like moons. Each keep’s the home of a paladin lord and his retinue, and these cutters protect the town. Every few decades, a keep lands at the edge of town and stays.

The Gate:

Somewhere in the highest tower in Excelsior is the Gate to Mount Celestia. The tower’s full of nothing but staircases that twist and cross endlessly. Most of them eventually come out at an observation deck, where a body can see both Fortitude and Tradegate. One staircase, though, keeps rising. Travelers who climb it high enough’ll suddenly find themselves in midair, twenty feet over the ocean at the base of Mount Celestia. The ocean’s got the properties of holy water and the fall doesn’t hurt, but passing through the gate sure wakes a berk up.

The Populace:

Natives of Excelsior are so pleasant, kindly, and understanding that visitors of nonlawful or nongood align¬ ments quickly develop a facial tic. Fact is, all sods of nongood alignments are asked to leave. They won’t be forced out as long as they don’t break any laws, but peeiy natives’ll keep a close eye on them at all times.

Apart from a few archons and devas, most residents are human — many of them paladins from prime-material worlds. One popular group in town is a sect of righteous cutters who call themselves the Order of the Planes-Militant. Just about everyone in Excelsior prefers light-colored garb.

The Hoi Polloi:

The ruler of Excelsior is High Chan¬ cellor Miguala abd-al Ragarin, a paladin from Zakhara (found on the world of Toril). She’s an elderly human, aided by two viziers: an archon named Blazara Light- maker and a halfling warrior named Mendel.

The other high-ups in town (really high-ups, a body could say) are the paladin lords of the floating picket keeps. Many eventually land their keeps and join the city, but sometimes a strong paladin and his follow¬ ers challenge the High Chancellor’s right to lead. A challenge like that tends to be short and bloody, and all the paladin usually winds up with is a spot in the dead- book.

Local Sites:

One of the most important spots around is actually at the base of Mount Celestia — the town of Heart’s Faith. Older maps of the Outlands show that it was once part of the Land before moving into the plane. Heart’s Faith is ruled by a greater lammasu named Lebes.

The floating castle of Thotatis of Tyr is also well known. He’s the most powerful paladin lord in town, but, . overall, a pretty stiff-necked basher. He feels that the High Chancellor hasn’t been dealing too well with the matter of the Holy Shadow (see “Current Chant”), and that someone needs to give them a heavier hand.

Travelers in the mood to flap their bone-boxes might enjoy a stop at the Forum, a pop¬ ular spot with many visitors. The Forum’s an open amphitheater where good and lawful bodies gather to debate the nature of good, law, and paladinhood.

Chant:

Believe it or not, there’s a successful thieves’ guild in town, known as the Holy Shadow. Some locals figure they’ve got nothing to fear, since the bobbers only work their cross-trade on nongood or nonlawful visitors. But others feel the group is all that’s keeping Excelsior from joining Heart’s Faith in

Important Sites:

1. Gate to Mt. Celestia
2. High Chancellor’s Keep
3. Picket Keeps
4. The Forum
5. The Way stop Tower (inn)
6. Pilgrim’s Rest (inn)
7. Haven (tavern)

Faunel

Estimated Population:

900 humanoids, and probably twice as many other creatures.

The Town:

Picture a great human city made of stone. Now, picture it in ruins, with crumbling and bro¬ ken buildings, cracked fountains that spill old water, and cathedrals split in half by trees. Nothing but wreck¬ age, tied up in knots of vines and vegetation like a meal splattered in a spider’s web. The air’s always hot and wet, and heavy downpours seem to come out of no¬ where, followed by rainbows (or moonbows, at night).

Now, berk, picture the ruins inhabited by humanoids, animals, and planar creatures. That’s Faunel - a broken city, full of life. Those who need structures to survive build with the old stone, but most bodies just form tents out of multi-colored tarps. The colors and markings of the tarps are unique, so a cutter can pretty much find her way around town (Joak the Sage’s tent, for example, is bright yellow, with a con¬ stellation of red dots). Still, it ain’t always easy to pick a path through the mixture of clutter and vines.

Legends tell that the ruins actually come from prime-material worlds. Chunks of abandoned cities are said to fall into the Outlands and become just another wreck in Faunel. True or not, there’s plenty of chant that hints at gates to many prime worlds in the town’s debris.

The Gate:

The Gate to the Beastlands is a wide pool, guarded by a large stone statue known only as Wrath. Some say that Wrath was once a mortal, a creature of living cloud, who rebelled against his fellow bashers. One story says he turned stag in a bid for power, while another marks his “crime” as seeking solid form. Hardly matters, though - the sod’s now made of stone, a monolith with a human face and glowing blue eyes.

Wrath won’t talk about his past, but he does ask the business of all travelers who want to cross into the Beastlands. Wise cutters answer him, and do so truth¬ fully. Berks who ignore Wrath or lie to him tend to meet messy and quick ends on the far side of the gate. (The locals figure Wrath has a hand in it, but no one’s quite tumbled to how.)

The Populace:

Faunel’s natives are mostly non¬ humanoid petitioners from the Beastlands. They’re thinking beings in animal form, and the Clueless are often startled to find that they can speak. (Fact is, they think and talk a lot better than some Clueless do.) The rest of the town’s rounded out with a few elves, humans, bariaur, kender, and halflings. Many residents belong to the Sign of One faction, and they run a large complex they call the Center of Eternal Dreams.

The Hoi Polloi:

Faunel’s got no official ruler, and bashers report that the only law here is the law of the jungle. Wrath is the most prominent figure in town, but he’s got his own agenda. He only spills the dark of things if he figures Faunel or the Beastlands’ll be safer as a result. Some chant says that Wrath’s the only thing keeping Faunel in the Outlands.

Local Sites:

Lots of planars call Faunel “The Wreckage,” and cutters seem to stumble on more and more ruins all the time. Many of these ruins have actu¬ ally been there all along, and just get “discovered” when masses of vines die off or get cleared away. ’Course, this doesn’t stop folks from thinking the rubble comes from prime-material worlds, or from spreading rumors about gates.

One place in town that doesn’t come or go is the Signers’ headquarters, the. Center of Eternal Dreams. It’s a blasted-out, roofless.cathedral, with broken stained- glass windows covered in tarps and hangings of the faction. Maps used by Signers show the building as the central point of both Faunel and the Outlands (pity the sod who trusts her life to such a map).

Current Chant:

Stories tell of a secret group oper¬ ating in this part of the Outlands - a group of lawful evil bashers known as the Vile Hunt. With a nod from the Mercykillers, this crowd wants to track down the petitioners of the Beastlands and put ’em all in the dead-book. (To the Hunt, beasts with the minds of men are abominations.) Wrath’s on their list, too. They want to get him out of the way so they can make their own gate to the Beastlands - the better to hunt with.

Fortitude

Estimated Population:

5,000

The Town:

Some planars call Fortitude “The Egg,” because the town sits inside a wall that curves to make a perfect oval. Near one end is the Gate to Arcadia, and near the other is a large stadium called the Confessional (see “Local Sites”). The two main entrances to the city are at either end, but plenty of smaller entryways dot the whole length of the town wall.

The streets of Fortitude are broad boulevards, spanning beautiful parks and orchards. Fact is, a good half of the land’s filled with groves, parks, and foun¬ tains, and the other half with buildings. The blocks are all clean and well'kept, each offering a body a good mix of different shops. Most buildings in this version of Fortitude have first stories of stone and upper floors of wood and mud, topped off by thatched roofs. Two prominent stone buildings in the area are the Gate to Arcadia and the Confessional.

The Gate:

The Gate to Arcadia sits on top of a low, circular step-pyramid made of seven stacked tiers, with staircases climbing it from four different directions. The gate itself appears as a large greenish flame, and travel¬ ers going to Arcadia just step through it, unharmed. Local chant has it that evil berks are purified by passing through the flame, but other legends say they don’t get off that easily.

The Populace:

If it weren’t for the citizens, Fortitude would be a nice place to visit. The townspeople here are a dangerous lot, a combination of primes, faction mem¬ bers, and petitioners of Arcadia. The petitioners have the ability to know alignment. Other natives of the plane (except for petitioners) are immune to both illusions and phantasms. And Fortitude’s a popular place with the Hardheads (bashers of the Harmonium faction). They can cast a charm person spell once per day. All in all, the natives make sure that the town’s well run — or else. Liars, peelers, and evil-doers give this place a wide berth.

The Hoi Polloi:

The high-ups in Fortitude are the seven members of the Secret Conclave, elected by all those in town who’re both good and lawful in align¬ ment. A new election is held every time the Modron Procession passes through the city. When the horde comes through, the voters pick seven citizens for Con¬ clave positions. The list of winners is meant to stay dark from the general populace. However, one known member of the current group is Skylar Mendacin, a powerful human male fighter in the service of the Hardheads.

Local Sites:

Besides the Gate to Arcadia, the most important site in Fortitude is the Confessional. A great arena sunk into the ground, it balances the stacked pyramid found at the other end of town. The Confes¬ sional’s well built, too - any cutter who stands on the low stage and rattles her bone-box can still be heard in the far edges of the arena.

The Confessional is used for admitting fault and handing out punishment. Several times a week, natives fill up the arena (travelers seeking good seats should arrive early), and anybody can take the stage to confess her crimes or flaws. The crowd then passes judgment, which, depending on its mood, ranges from simple ver¬ bal abuse to putting the poor sod in the dead-book. Refusing to accept her punishment gets a berk in the dead-book instantly - the mob’ll execute her on the spot. Usually, the Hardhead guards drag criminals and suspects in for judgment, but a body’d be surprised how many folks volunteer to spill their sins. Some just seem to have a need to cleanse themselves.

Fortitude’s got several excellent inns, but the most popular is Tears ofTyr, which offers a traveler a great view of the Confessional. Its owner, Gladola DeFarge, is a supposedly repentant priestess of Loviatar.

Current Chant:

In the past few weeks, the air in Fortitude's been electric. The Secret Conclave has deter¬ mined that the town is nearly worthy enough to join Arcadia. ’Course, this means the Confessional’s been extra busy, both with volunteers and travelers scragged by Hardheads. Fact is, some folks say the town’s already slipped into Arca¬ dia, and that another copy’s just taken its place on the Outlands.

Glorium

Estimated Population:

300

The Town:

Natives of Sigil tend to think of any city smaller than theirs as a “burg,” which makes Glorium a burg by most planar standards. It’s a small assortment of longhouses and worksheds tucked along the shores of a deep fjord, with mountains on each side that seem to rise half as high as the spire itself. There’s a single perilous path down through the cliffs, but most cutters prefer to sail into Glorium by sea.

The town’s got a temporary look to it, more like the winter camp of wandering raiders than a permanent settlement. That suits the locals just fine, since they don’t really want that many visitors.

The Gate:

Actually, two different gates lead into nearby Ysgard. The first is a maelstrom found at the mouth of the fjord, large enough to allow a ship to sail into the chaotic realms of that plane. This entrance, called the Watergate, reverses itself twice a day, so a body who knows the local tides can use it to sail back out of Ysgard.

The other gate is an entrance to fabled Yggdrasil itself, found in a cavern in the mountains above town. Sods who come looking for this gate’d better have hold of a reliable map. A number of other caverns in the mountains lead to realms that run deep below the sur¬ face of the Outlands, which means there are plenty of places for the Clueless to get lost.

The Populace:

What the natives of Glorium lack in number, they make up in volume. They’re a loud, proud people (humans, mostly), and they’re strongly influenced by the Ysgardian Norse pantheon in their attitudes and appearance. Strangers are given the peeiy eye until they prove themselves, slights are easily taken, and combat breaks out often. Fact is, a berk who rattles his bone-box the wrong way will probably end up with a fight on his hands. These kinds of battles go on until the first blood is spilled (and it usually comes from a visitor).

In the surrounding hills and mountains, there is an equally small community of bariaur, who patrol the region and keep most of the nastier creatures at bay. A few bariaur probably wouldn’t mind letting the odd beholder slip into town, though — relationships with the residents of Glorium are strained at best.

The Hoi Polloi:

The town is ruled by a human ranger named Flatnose Grim, who typifies both Glo¬ rium and its people. He’s a broad-shouldered, barrel¬ chested basher of great strength, loyal to a fault (and moody to a fault, as well). His force of muscle and will grants him the rocklike devotion of his people, so it’s best not to cross him.

The bariaur in the mountains are ruled by Jek Thanol, an ancient high-up with large horns and a jew¬ eled eye patch. Local legend has it that he lost the eye in combat with Grim, and, as a result, the two ain’t exactly close cutters.

Local Sites:

There’s not much to recommend Glo¬ rium as a visitor’s center - it lacks the taverns and inns of its neighboring cities, and outsiders are made to feel as welcome as larvae. Fact is, the only place worth stopping at is a small temple at the edge of town. The priests there spend most of their time worshiping Odin and the Norns, catching the rest of the pantheon in an offhand way.

Current Chant:

Glorium is small, proud, and vul¬ nerable. Rumors have been floating around for months that Gzemnid, the beholder god, is trying to gain con¬ trol of the town and its gates. It’s said the mountains are haunted by the god’s creatures.

Also, more and more planars have been visiting Glorium lately, especially members of the Fated faction. They’ve offered to establish a stronghold (full of their own bashers, of course) to help defend the town. Flat- nose Grim’s told them to pike it. He’s an Indep, and he knows that once the Fated sink their hooks in a place, they’re harder to get out than fleas.

Travelers new to the region should also be peery of a young human (or someone who appears to be a young human) known to the townsfolk as “Lemming Boy.” This berk is often found in the mountains around Glorium, and he offers his services as a guide, giving his name as Kai. Sods who follow him’ll quickly find v themselves ambushed by beholders, giants, or mind flayers, caught in avalanches or pits, or stuck in blinds so bad they’ll think they crossed the Lady of Pain her¬ self. Any survivors of Lemming Boy’s “help” who’re lucky enough to make it back to Gloyium won’t get much from the natives except laughter. That, and a toast to the honor of fools who trust strangers.

Hopeless

Estimated Population:

20,000

The Town:

The best thing about Hopeless is that it’s easy for a body to Find her way around. It’s a walled city with just one entrance, and from that entrance a single long road spirals down into a deep pit, ending in a courtyard at the bottom. A traveler can always tell when she’s reached Hopeless, too — the entrance gate is a screaming human face carved in red stone, its eyes blank and blind, red tears cut by erosion running down its cheeks.

That red stone of the Screaming Gate (as it’s called) is the only bright color in the whole town. The rest of Hopeless is built of gray stone and gray, weathered wood that becomes gloomier the farther a body goes beneath ground level.

The Gate:

At the base of the pit, where the road finally runs out, there’s a flat courtyard of gray stone, with a low, gray well in the center. The well’s filled to the brim with a thick, black ooze, similar to molten tar. Want to go to the Gray Waste? Just jump in the well. Cutters can also sifmmon the gunk out, and a few folks in Hopeless know the dark of spells to do that. This method makes sure that a whole group ends up in the same place on the other side. (The blackness spurts up out of the well and covers the courtyard in a heaving bubble of tar. Those who’ve tried this compare it to bathing with a black pudding.)

The Populace:

The people of Hopeless are like depression on legs. Most drifted into town over the decades, having nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. The poor sods barely have the energy to be nasty. There’s no chance of things being better - not here or anywhere - so why bother?

The nearness of the Gray Waste also takes its toll on the locals. After a few weeks of bunking here, a body takes on a grayish pallor (known in the Outlands as a “wasting tan”), and her eyes, comfortable with gloom, are hurt by bright colors. Fact is, a town law forbids bright or contrasting colors in the heart of the pit, and the natives have the right to tear colored things apart. Travelers who aren’t sure exactly where the law takes effect usually find out the hard way when the natives attack, tearing at their garbs and hurling thick, wet balls of mud.

The Hoi Polloi:

The High Cardinal of Hopeless is a masked human female who calls herself Thingol the Mocking. She claims to have been a wizard who es¬ caped the destruction of her prime-material world. As the ruler, she garbs herself in heavy chains and a full- sized metallic mask in the shape of a black wolf.

Thingol holds her position thanks to her strongest supporters, a pack of seven identical beholders. They float throughout the pit in a constant patrol, keeping an eye (or ten) out for bashers who might harm their mis¬ tress. Their loyalty is absolute, and some think that Thingol traded her spellcasting ability (and her human¬ ity) with dark powers for their service.

Thingol’s goal is to keep the people in their place and very aware of the hopelessness of their situation. If nothing else, a body’s got to admit she does a good job. Berks who cross her can look forward to long, painful executions, often lasting days. (A quick death might raise the bloodlust of the mob, and, besides, a slow crushing or garroting is much more painful.) Travelers should know that Thingol’s currently experimenting with performance art, such as painting a body bright blue and let ting the crowd rip the poor berk’s flesh off. Her most recent work, “Sonata for Songbird and Hammer,” pulled in some wonderfully depressing reviews.

Local Sites:

Having only one street in town does make it a bit easier to find places, but it’s a real pox if a body needs to hide or flee. With foot patrols of Thin- gol’s bodyguards and flying beholders looking every which way, things can get rough. This adds to the feel¬ ing of helplessness in the city, which, of course, is the whole idea.

The lone bright spot is the Chapterhouse of the Sis¬ terhood, a collection of good-aligned cutters (of all sexes, despite the name) who provide aid and healing to the populace. ’Course, a lot of folks hate 'em for it, and members of the Sisterhood travel with armed body¬ guards when outside their citadel. Their garb is always the same shade of light gray, which meets the requirements for color, but they keep their gowns and blouses spotless and seem to shine against the background.

For the traveler, the best inns - the Most depressing ones, anyway - are near the top of the spiral. Of these, the Defenestrated Paladin is the rowdiest, the Open Tomb is the quietest, and the Castle of Bone has the best rumors (including one that Cyric, the Prince of Lies, drops in regularly to torment the clientele).

Thingol’s own complex is a large sprawl of manor houses and towers that start in the depths of the pit and rise up, crossing the spiral road three times. Near the uppermost entrance, she cleared space to provide a stage for executions and performances. (Visitors who’ve been here before may remember the orphanage that used to stand on the site.) Many criminals scragged by Thingol’s “justice” get the chance to perform, told that they’ll be set free if they can make her feel an emotion. But even with all the sods she’s hauled in, she’s never had to make good on that offer.

Current Chant:

The people of Hopeless tend to keep their eyes open and their bone-boxes shut. That is, unless they’d enjoy being telekinetically suspended between two beholders while a third disintegrates their skin one layer at a time. But even still, there’s some buzz about the well down in the courtyard.

Locals expect the well to overflow someday, filling the pit and taking all of Hopeless into the Gray Waste. But now stories tell of humanoid creatures, made of the black tar of the well itself, pulling themselves loose and stumbling into the city. A handful of sods in town say they’ve seen it happen, and one or two swear they’ve even been attacked, or watched the creatures meld right into the stone of buildings. ’Course, Thingol’s not too pleased with these reports, painting them as the lies of drunken bubbers. As a public service, her thugs track down anyone who spreads or listens to these lies, show¬ ing them how such rumors can be bad for their health.

Important Sites:

1. The Screaming Gate
2. The Chapterhouse of the Sisterhood
3. The Defenestrated Paladin
4. The Castle of Bone
5. The Open Tomb
6. The palace of Thingol the Mocking
7. The courtyard and Gate to the Gray Waste

Plague-Mort

Estimated Population:

20,000

The Town:

Plague-Mort is an Outlander town that demonstrates a basic rule of the Abyss — the strongest bashers thrive and do as they see fit with the weak, in this case, though, the weak make up most of the town.

Plague-Mort’s a bundle of shacks, kips, and ruins clustered about the walls of a shining, silver-steel keep. In the keep sits the Arch-Lector, who rules the city with an iron fist. Outside the keep is the rest of the burg, with temples, residences, and merchant districts left to fend for themselves. As a result, most pf-thetown is gray, wrecked, and abandoned.

The Arch-Lector’s keep, though, is a grand, ornate building. Its roof shines with metallic tiles, and its eaves are dotted with gargoyles, real and other wise. Razorvine and bloodthorns cover the keep’s walls to make sure that out siders stay out.

The Gate:

One wall of the Arch- Lector’s keep is breached by three large archways. The center and rightmost archways lead into the keep, but the leftmost leads into someplace even worse. This archway is the Gate to the Abyss, and trav elers who look through it will see the blasted landscape known as the Plain of Infinite Portals (the uppermost layer of the Abyss). The Plain is a desolate wasteland, empty except for two things: huge pits that are con duits to deeper layers, and iron fortresses that are out posts of powerful tanar’ri lords.

Like the rest of the keep, the gate’s entwined with razorvine, so a berk’s got to watch his step going through. On the other hand, the razorvine might be the best part of the trip.

The Populace:

On the whole, the people of Plague- Mort are here for the benefit of the Abyss. Some look for adventure in the Plain of Infinite Portals, some seek favors from the dark powers, and some just have tem peraments that match this vile city. Wherever a body looks, though, he’ll find treachery, oppression, and pain.

Most of the locals are humans and tieflings, along with such evil-aligned humanoids as ores, gnolls, and ogres. But with the Abyss so close, a berk’s just as likely to bump into one of the quasits or tanar’ri (mostly alu- fiends and cambions) who make Plague-Mort its home.

The Hoi Polloi:

The current Arch-Lector of Plague- Mort is Byrri Yarmoril, a tiefling priest of some secret and destructive goddess. He pulls the strings of the town, but, in turn, has his strings pulled by the Abyss itself.

The Arch-Lector keeps the terror through his own personal militia, a gang of planar/human crossbreeds known as the Hounds. This pack of . tieflings, alu-fiends, and cambions jumps at the master’s command, and they’ll even leave the city to chase down sods who’ve offended him.

Local Sites:

Beyond the Arch- Lector’s grand keep, Plague-Mort is a foul, rotting, gray city of dirty stone and collapsing timbers. However, there are a few places a traveler might want to look into (or away from).

One popular spot for many locals is an abandoned temple, not far from the keep. The chant says- it was once used to worship the neutral deity Oghma. But some bone-boxes flap about a second, darker temple hidden beneath its ravaged altar.

Plague-Mort’s also known as the Tradegate of the evil gate-towns, offering goods for jink or for trade. Cutters who come to town for this game have plenty of inns and taverns to choose from, including such well- known watering holes as the Eye of the Dragon, the Bell and Whistle, and the Golden Griffon. ’Course, that last place is also a favorite hang-out for the Hounds, and it should be skipped by any berk with a strong attach ment to his life.

Current Chant:

Ask any bubber in the street the goal of the Arch-Lector, and chances are good that he’ll know (if he’s not passed out, that is). There’s nothing dark about it — Yarmoril hopes to pitch Plague-Mort* into the Abyss, a move that’d bring rioting and death to most of the residents. If he doesn’t deliver the town, he’ll earn himself a spot in the dead-book. .Needless to say, Yarmoril is highly motivated to send the burg to its final resting place.

Important Sites:

1. Keep of the Arch-Lector
2. Plaza of the Great Archways
3. Gate to the Abyss
4. Abandoned Temple of Oghma
5. The Eye of the Dragon (inn)
6. The Golden Griffon (inn)
7. The Bell and Whistle (tavern)

Ribcage

Estimated Population:

35,000

The Town:

The Vale of the Spine is a towering ridge of mountains that starts near the plane of Baator and creeps spireward almost to the River Ma’at. A smaller spur of the mountain range separates for a brief space into two parallel ridges, forming a tight valley between them. The narrow peaks of each ridge curve inward, looming over the valley like the ribs of some insanely- huge (and thankfully-dead) beast.

The town of Ribcage is tucked neatly into this space, filling it entirely. The natives have walled up the gaps between the mountains, so travelers on foot have to use the large iron gates at each end of the valley. Once inside, visitors’ll find that the town’s full of tow ers and private keeps. Most houses are built of shiny black or smooth gray stone, and high-ups with wealth and power show off by covering their cases in ornate decorations. The brick roads of Ribcage are the color of fresh blood.

The most impressive place in town is the Citadel, the home of Quentill Paracs, the Lord of Ribcage (see “The Hoi Polloi”). It’s' a self-contained city within a city. The walls are carved from solid blocks of obsidian ebony, and its steel portcullis is laced with strange and exotic items. Any berk who catches a gander at the Citadel knows who runs this burg.

Outside of the Citadel, the city’s been divided up among five competing families, each with its own support. The different domains aren’t walled off, but each group has checkpoints and guards to keep tabs on the traffic.

The Gate:

The Gate to Baator is in a separate com plex somewhere within the Citadel, which means a cut ter’s got to march right past Paracs’ nose to find it. The gate itself is a tall, spinning pillar of red light, filled with dancing motes of silver (said to be the disinte grated remains of berks who tried to cross the Lords of the pit). The Clueless should be aware that planars don’t call this the cursed gate for nothing.

The Populace:

People here tend to be hard-working, suspicious, and grabby. Unlike their neighbors in Torch, they live for more than just coarse jink. In Ribcage, the goal is power in all its forms — monetary, military, and magical. Influence is the coin that pays the bills, and a basher with an edge over his fellows had better use it, or it’ll be wrenched away.

Most of the population is tiefling, with a strong dose of lower-planar blood coursing through their veins. There are also humans, evil humanoids, bariaur, githzerai, and a few other races present, but the tief- lings have the edge, and having the edge is all that matters.

Most visitors are surprised to find few natives of Baator in Ribcage. Fact is, Lord Paracs and the senators have little love for the Lords of the Nine. They don’t want to see their town get sucked into that infernal plane, and they do what they can to keep fiends out.

The Hoi Polloi:

Lord Quentill Paracs, a tiefling fighter and mage, rules the city, and all hop to his tune. A squat, hunched, fat old man, Paracs’ goal is to make the city his personal domain until his death (and, some say, after it, as well).

To maintain the look of fairness, Ribcage has a council of five senators who are said to be able to out vote the Lord. But irt just a peel rigged by Paracs. The dark of it is that he holds three of the senators in his pocket at any one time, whether it’s through bribes, threats, or hostages. Like the rest of the bashers in town, Paracs does what it takes to get ahead and stay ahead.

Local Sites:

Ribcage ain’t known for its hospitality, berk. Most taverns aren’t much more than dives carved out of recently-abandoned buildings. A bit ringward, though, there’s some hot baths built over volcanic springs. There, a body’ll find a few decent spas and resorts. These places are popular with travelers who have business in Ribcage but don’t feel like butting up against Lord Paracs and his cronies. The best of the lot is the Gymnasium of Steam.

Toward Rigus, the Vale of the Spine is ruptured by the Great Pass, a flat pathway through the mountains that cuts the trip to Rigus in half. ’Course, a lot of planars who’ve been to Rigus consider that a mixed blessing.

Current Chant:

Lord Paracs is thinking about set ting up an embassy in town for cutters from Excelsior, Tradegate, and other gate-towns of good alignments. He figures a strong pocket of goodness, will keep his city (and it is his city) firmly rooted in the Outlands and under his control.

Important Sites:

1. Baron Paracs' Citadel
2. Gate to Baator
3. Council Quarters
4. Gymnasium of Steam (resort)
5. Steam Gate
6. Rigus Gate (to Great Pass)
7. Spire gate
8. Statue of Paracs

Rigus

Estimated Population:

20,000

The Town:

Rigus is a huge, permanent military encampment, rising wall upon wall and battlement upon battlement to dominate this part of the land. The camp’s divided into seven stacked rings, each built all the way around a great hill. The largest ring’s set around the bottom of the hill, and the smallest (called the Crown) is set around the top. Octagonal walls of iron separate each ring from the others; a wall sur rounds the bottom ring, too, to block Rigus off from the rest of the Outlands. Travelers can use a gate in the bot tom wall, but watch it, berk - the wall’s been treated with mild po'isons to keep rust monsters (and, some say, all visitors) at bay.

The Gate:

The Gate to Acheron is far below the surface of the earth, but in the Crown there’s a mile- long staircase that’ll take a body right down to it. The stairs empty into a huge underground chamber that contains an archway made of bariaur bones. In the archway is what looks like a gigantic cat’s eye: a swirl ing mass of green-yellow color, with a stripe of black running down the middle. This is the Gate to Acheron, also called the Lion’s Gate.

The chamber has other entrances, too, with tunnels that snake off into distant parts of the underground. Legend has it that they lead to realms of dark powers and even some far-off gates. Fact is, creatures pop out of the Lion’s Gate all the time and use the tunnels to spread throughout the Outlands.

The Populace:

Folks in Rigus are given ranks to show how high-up they are (or aren’t). Each one starts out as a “citizen,” even the newborn and travelers who’ve settled in town. Citizens can be promoted by the Great Generals to a higher rank: private, sergeant, lieutenant, captain, or general. ’Course, berks can drop below citizen, too - law-breakers and captives from raids get stuck with the rank of “slave-soldier.” A body’s expected to follow the orders of higher ranks without question, and the populace sticks to the letter of this law. Any disobedience is treason, and those who turn stag in this manner get put in the dead-book.

Sods new to town get a bit of a break. They’re given slate plaques to wear around their necks on heavy iron chains, so natives can see that they’re in the dark about the laws. But pike off a higher-up in rank, and a berk’ll find her plaque torn off and destroyed, leaving her open to the laws and to the gangs that rove around looking for recruits and slaves.

Humans, tieflings, and evil humanoids are the main races in Rigus. The place tends to draw bashers who understand military discipline, such as ores and hobgoblins. And, of course, the Mercykillers have a lot of pull with the town’s military orders. The chant even says that many generals are secretly members of that faction.

The Hoi Polloi:

Rigus is organized with military efficiency; groups called military orders take the place of clans or families. Each order’s ruled by a general with the necessary officers below him, ending with the citizens and slave-soldiers. Of the hundred or so mili tary orders in Rigus, the most powerful is a grim bunch called the Toll of Doom Brotherhood.

However, even the generals answer to higher-ups. Within the Crown (the highest ring of the city) is a crypt that houses the true rulers of Rigus. These bloods are former generals who’ve been lost throughout the years, but in the Crown spirits never depart, so they live on in a half-life similar to those of liches. These crea tures give the orders to the generals, who’ve been trained all their lives to obey their superiors (no matter how bad they might smell).

The best known, most respected, and most feared of the current generals is Nagaro, a female warrior from Taladas, on the world of Krynn. She was once a paladin.

Local Sites:

Strangers ain’t exactly welcome in Rigus — they're encouraged to complete their business as quickly as possible and then leave. Most of the tav erns aren’t much better, either, since they’re usually run by one military order or another. However, one inde pendent spot that’s been able to hold its own is the Bro ken Slate, and many travelers stay there while in town.

Current Chant:

There’s been talk lately that Nagaro and her fellow generals are thinking of pushing the boundaries of their domain. As first targets, Ribcage and Automata are both good bets, despite the powerful forces in their connected planes.

Sylvania

Estimated Population:

1,000

Tin: Town:

Travelers who get the yawn from more peaceful spots like Ecstasy will find this burg a little more bone-rattling. It may not have a huge population for a gate-town, but Sylvania’s known as a nonstop party. The natives revel night and day in a constant beat of drums and drinking songs, Olympian dirges and elven ballads, and the hoarse shouts of petitioners, pla- nars, and primes. Here, sensual delights swirl and blend, and a cutter’d swear she could taste the drumbeats or see the meaty smell of cooking flesh.

It’s easy for a berk to get lost here, especially if she’s been bubbing it up at a tavern or three. Sylva¬ nia’s shaped like a rough cir¬ cle, but the whole town’s full of curved, winding streets that meet and cross at odd angles. (Some say the builders must’ve hoisted a few too many themselves.)

Buildings in Syivania are just as barmy, a hodge-podge of stones and styles. Lots of them are shaped like animals, ships, or human faces, and some of ’em even move. Cogs and waterwheels turn, whole buildings revolve in place, and houses sometimes fold in on themselves, creating brand-new structures.

For travelers who like their flora large, Sylvania’s got some of the wildest greens in the Land: huge plants and trees that swallow up entire blocks. Elves like to make their homes in the shadows and branches.

The Gate:

Syivania is surrounded by woods, and somewhere in those woods is the Gate to Arborea. ’Course, the gate’s invisible, and it floats randomly around the forest like a bubber’s tipsy walk. To find the gate, all a berk has to do is get lost in the woods (easy for some, harder for others). Then, while poking around for a way out, she always seems to pass into Arborea. Travelers using this gate should be careful, though - it doesn’t always drop a body where she wants to go.

The Populace:

The natives are evenly split among humans, elves, and bariaur races. Folks here tend to be a boisterous bunch, and each group loves to drive the others to ever-wilder states of excess.

The Hoi Polioi:

The town’s run by eternal beings known as the Seven Spiritors. Not quite undead, not quite petitioners, and not quite gods, these high-ups rule through bodies they possess (it works a lot like a magic jar). They usually take new bodies every few decades, and most folks who get possessed are volun¬ teers. But mind that word most, berk — violent trouble¬ makers have sometimes been known to come down with sudden attitude changes.

The Seven are known by titles that reflect their natures: Thought (currently in a female bariaur’s form), Knowledge (a human male), Action (a halfling female), Passion (an elf male), Reflection (a male bariaur), Pain (a human male), and Rest (a human female). They’ve got no ( permanent home in Syivania, and visitors can usually find them wandering around inside its borders.

Local Sites:

The most prominent place in Syivania is the Sensate Embassy (which is said to be just a bureaucratic outpost for a larger palace on Arborea). Travelers should stop in and catch a gander at the architecture. The building’s a great hol¬ low pyramid made of petrified wood, with quarters and offices suspended from the sloping walls. The open central area beneath is used for combat and (of course) revelry.

Not too far from the embassy, two large temples loom, one devoted to the Greek pantheon and the other to the great elven powers. The Greek temple is an acropolis on a low plateau, with supporting columns in the shape of female warriors (and look out, berk, because they animate to protect the city). The elven temple’s carved from within a huge, living banyan tree, with small buildings erupting from the upper branches.

Sylvania’s got more than its share of bars and tav¬ erns, but visitors shouldn’t miss an inn called the Dip¬ ping Dragon. Its upper floors, shaped like a dragon, are mounted on a pivot. They tilt forward and back, allow¬ ing the dragon to “drink” from a nearby pool.

Current Chant:

Take care not to get caught between the petitioners of Olympus (the Greeks) and Arvandor (the elves). They favor bloody street battles as a means of proving the superiority of their gods.

Important Sites:

1. Sensate Embassy
2. Acropolis of the Olympian Pantheon
3. Elven Living Temple to Arvandor
4. The Dipping Dragon (inn)
5. The Fountain of Gothmar (Open Plaza)
6. Thunderhouse (Festhall)
7. Greyfalcon's (Inn)

Torch

Estimated Population:

17,000

The Town:

Torch is built on the slopes of a set of volcanic spires formed from hardened molten rock. Around the spires is a blood-red marsh, which often floods into the lower parts of town, bringing pestilence, death, plague, boils, and killer frogs. As a result, the high-up cutters in Torch are just that - the ones who live the farthest up the slopes, away from the marsh.

But, as the locals say, “Trouble below, trouble above.” Some of the spires are still active, and they continually spit out lava and gases that ignite upon exposure to the air. The light from these constant flames gives the town its name and keeps it bright day and night. Fact is, Torch never truly sleeps, but instead is busy around the clock. (Besides, a body’d have a hard time dozing comfortably with fire over his head and frogs at his feet.)

The Gate:

Torch offers travelers the Gate to Gehenna, but it sure don’t make it easy for ’em. The gate looks like a blood-red eye or camelian gemstone hovering in midair, a hundred or so feet off the ground. Flight, of course, is the best way to reach it, but cutters feeling lucky can try to drop into it from an overhanging spire above. Those who’ve gone through say that the return gate is on more stable ground, but a few berks suppos¬ edly giggled when they said it.

The local chant talks of a second gate somewhere in the blood marsh that surrounds the town. However, some folks think that’s just a peel put out by the Lords of Baator to lure eager bashers to a drowning doom.

The Populace:

The people of Torch are greedy, vicious, and extremely dangerous. They believe that everything in the Outlands (and why stop there?) should by rights be theirs, and they’ll use any means, legal or otherwise, to get it. 'Course, since they all think the same way, they spend most of their time pillaging each other, much to the relief of neighboring towns.

The natives of Torch include humans, tieflings, evil humanoids, githzerai, thieves of every class, and a number of creatures from the Lower Planes (some of whom have even reached positions of power).

Unlike many gate-towns around the rim of the Out¬ lands, most of the natives here are none too keen on joining their related plane. It all comes back to their greedy nature - Gehenna has less to grab, and the bash¬ ers doing the grabbing there are a lot more powerful.

The Hoi Polloi:

Torch is supposedly run by the Council of All, a general gathering of the people in the small, ruptured arena next to the spires. However, locals tend to call it the “Council of Brawl,” since most of the decisions result in mob violence. The Council’s often used as a tool by the wealthier citizens, who decide if the group is to be called at all.

The blood with the most jink is Bantrice the Potter, a native of Sigil who emigrated to Torch for health rea¬ sons. A measure of his success is that he’s never had to address, or even attend, the Council of All - his min¬ ions and flunkies take care of things behind the scenes. There ain’t much in Torch that can’t be solved by threats, money, violence, or more threats.

Local Sites:

Torch has no less than six major thieves’ guilds: the Gray Orb, the Kindred of Yoj, the Severed Hand, Brotherhood Janko, Tiamat’s Chosen, and the Fire Lords. Each group wants to corner the cross-trading market, and their fights often spill out onto the streets. Fact is, any berk with three friends (or, more often, lackeys) ends up forming his own guild, gang, or power center.

The best “neutral” site for meetings of the guilds is the resplendent Festhall of the Falling Coins, operated by a wheezing, stoop-shouldered drow named Badurth. It’s said that Badurth knows everyone and everything in town.

Current Chant:

A few folks whisper that Bantrice has never set foot in Sigil in his life. They agree that he moved to Torch for his health, all right, but say that he’s really a foul creature from Baator in hiding from his masters. A berk who swore he had proof of this was recently found lying in the blood marsh. His intestines and brain, though, were not.

Tradegate

Estimated Population:

20,000

The Town:

Tradegate is a city of commerce, a swirling hive of activity, with old structures constantly being knocked down and new ones put up in their places. ’Course, the new stuffs just like the old, but the natives don’t seem to mind.

This burg’s a walled city of grayish stone, shaped like a star, with a great open plaza in the middle. The plaza’s known as the grand bazaar, the center of trade in this part of the Outlands. It’s a sprawling collection of booths and stands, built on a checkerboard pattern of gold and purple tiles. Buyers come all the way from Torch and Curst to poke through the goods, and there’s always a crowd.

The Gate:

Even primes who’ve done some gate¬ hopping in their day might have a tricky time with the Gate to Bytopia. The gate’s actually a creature named Master Trader, a large bariaur with ornate, curved horns. He wanders the forests near town, sometimes straying as far spireward as Tir na Og, and a body gets to Bytopia by making a successful trade with him. Most of these trades are complicated, involved deals, so cutters had better be on their toes. Master Trader always seems to know what gate-seekers need and what they can pay. His price may be high, but it’s tailored to each body or group who comes to see him

.

Rumors have floated around the Outlands that Master Trader is actually another incarnation of a being called the Peddler. Others swear that both are masks worn by a third, more powerful figure. And the mer¬ cantile bashers of Tradegate say that folks who listen to any of these rumors are barmy.

The Populace:

Many com¬ munities in the Outlands are full of petitioners hoping to push the burgs into their related planes. Not Tradegate — natives here like their town right where it is. They want to establish a cen¬ ter of commerce that rivals the Cage itself. (’Course, since few major powers live in Bytopia, there’s not much drive to move the town there, any¬ way.) This kind of thinking makes Tradegate an attrac¬ tive place for Indeps.

Humans and gnomes make up most of the popula¬ tion. They’re nothing if not industrious, and they expect everyone else to match their work ethic. Beg¬ ging’s frowned upon, vagrancy’s punished by a stay in the workhouse, and adventuring’s seen as a poor excuse to pillage and peel. Fact is, natives pretty much decide for themselves what’s evil, and they don’t put up with slavery, thievery, senseless killing, or plenty of other things an average basher’s likely to do. Berks caught on the wrong side of the law end up paying the music.

Most of the town’s trade is in barter or cold, hard jink — there’s no such thing as credit for visitors. Trade- gate also mints its own coins, which have a star on one side and a picture of Ilmater (one of the few powers of Bytopia) on the other. The townsfolk like to say the coin’s two faces mirror the dual nature of Bytopia itself.

The Hoi Polloi:

Tradegate is ruled by the Parlia¬ ment, an informal council of merchants that hands down regulations, mostly on trading practices. To get on the council, a body needs just two things: a nonevil alignment and at least 500,000 in gold. (While it’s said that some members cloak their true alignment, berks can’t fake the jink - they either have it or they don’t.) The Parliament meets every seven days, and a majority of those who show up may enact new laws.

Local Sites:

The grand bazaar takes up the center of town, flanked on four sides by the Parliament build¬ ing, the accounting house and mint, the armory and barracks, and the library. (Interested travelers can stop at the library to see all of the accounting records for the town, though its list of Tradegate’s master merchants is a bigger draw.) The fifth side of the bazaar’s flanked by the hotel district, where there are plenty of upscale inns to separate a wealthy visitor from her jink. The best of the lot, though, is the Golden Hound.

Current Chant:

The cutters in Tradegate don’t hand out anything for free, not even information. But some say that here a body can literally sell her afterlife to the town, giving up all chance of resur¬ rection for a pile of Tradegate coins.

Xaos

Estimated Population:

1,000, or 2,000, or 40,000, or five. It seems to change.

The Town:

So close to the plane of ultimate chaos, Xaos (pronounced KAY-oss) is a town gone mad. The whole place is in a constant state of flux, awash in the power of elemental chaos. The only thing a berk can count on is that he can’t count on anything (and sometimes he can’t even count on that). No map or mapper can nail this town down. Fact is, a body’s mind just can’t tumble to how reality swirls and rearranges itself in this place. Even the name of the town changes from time to time, the letters jostling about at random in search of a new identity.

The region surrounding Xaos (pronounced SACK- so) is a mess of rocks, swamps, pits, fields - every kind of terrain and climate, really, all lit by rainbows of light. To geMo town, a cutter’s just got to plunge into the most frightening and mind-warping area. Next thing he knows, he’ll be there (like it or not).

The Gate:

The Gate to Limbo changes along with the city. One minute it’s a small blue pyramid in the palm of an iron statue. The next, it’s a glowing ball of exhausted spirits drifting through the marketplace. In an hour it could even be a pit lined with spikes, berk. But no matter what it looks like, for some reason a body can always mark it as the Gate to Limbo.

The Populace:

More mind-blasted than the sods of Bedlam, the folks of Xaos (pronounced AX-oss) aren’t thrown by the twists and turns of their reality. Every¬ thing changes, including themselves, so that’s the way it should be. The warrior who attacks a berk in the morning becomes the waiter who serves him a hot cup of lint soup for evening breakfast. For amusement, the locals like to watch visitors slowly go barmy as they tiy to sort things out (naturally, the Clueless make for the best entertainment).

Humans, humanoids, bariaur, slaadi, and githzerai are all common natives of Xaos (pronounced soaks). But just because they’re chaotic, that doesn’t mean they don’t have goals - they just pursue their goals in a roundabout fashion. A slaad intent on killing a traveler will still try to do so, but it may send flowers first. A basher of the Xaositect faction may try to build an army by marking buildings with random magical signs. Here, such things work. Most of the natives just don’t let it get them down.

When in Xaos (pronounced AY-socks), a traveler’d better have a tight grip on his identity. If he doesn’t, it, too, will be sucked into the whirlpool of change.

The Hoi Polloi:

Who’s in charge? Depends what time it is. Literally, no one and everyone is a high-up in Xaos (pronounced OCK-sa). A prime new to town might find himself the supreme law-giver for about a minute and a half, and then suddenly go back to being an average sod, subject to the whims of others. ’Course, laws often evaporate long before anyone could actually be sentenced under them.

Local Sites:

Trying to describe landmarks in town is a sure road to. the barmy house. Nothing remains the same for long. On the other hand, everything is an important landmark - a unique creation that exists once and is gone, leaving only unstable memories in the minds of those who were privileged to see it.

Current Chant:

Xaos (pronounced bob) is teetering on the edge of Limbo, perilously and joyously close to slipping from the Outlands. Some say the town jumps back and forth between the two planes all the time, and folks just don’t notice. According to the chant, though, the slaadi are very interested in keeping the place in the Land. It’s said they’re trying to lock it down with shots of chaotic energy and constructs.

On the other hand, a group of modrons from the far end of the Outlands has arrived, apparently to build something that’ll last. So far, though, their constructs,, change with each passing hour, and the faster they build, the barmier things start to look. One construct sank into the ground, another floated away, and a third rose on two legs and walked dff in the general direction of PlaguerMort. Even the modrons themselves are start¬ ing to change, losing confidence in theif'ewip identities and warping into new shapes.

Other Locations

The Outlands are more than just a collection of gate- towns, berk, even if those spots are the biggest draw for travelers. The Land’s also home to a lot of powerful (and not-so-powerful) bodies. Some locations even act as gates to areas beyond, and they seem to be immune to the plane-sucking effects that plague many gate- towns. In any case, cutters really need to get the full chant on the Land - a body never knows if one day his travels might take him uncomfortably close to one of these locations.

These summaries of other places are provided for handy use by travelers. The In a Nutshell section tries to sum up the entire region in a few lines (a masterful task, that), while the Traveler's Advisory section gives details on points of interest, spilling the dark on what wary adventurers should - and, more importantly, shouldn’t — do.

Bariur Tribes

In a Nutshell:

Mobile encampments of bariaur are found throughout the Outlands, but most often in the arc from Ecstasy to Glorium. These groups of ten to one hundred bariaur often provide aid to the hurt, shelter to the helpless, and directions to the clueless.

TRAVELER’S Advisory:

The bariur are nomads, and they often come in contact with others of their race. Berks who cheat or attack one tribe soon find that their descrip¬ tions have spread quickly to others. Travelers may be interested in this advice from a native of Rigus: “So don’t leave any survivors and ya got no problem.”

The Court of Light

In a Nutshell:

This is the home of Shekines- ter, the Three-Faced Queen of the Nagas. It’s divided into three parts, each nested inside the last. Outermost is the Loom of the Weaver, a maze of tangled and thorny vegetation. Within the Loom is the Hall of Tests, Shekinester’s palace, and within the palace is the Arching Flame, a spirit-cleansing fire that keeps the rest of the known planes running (or so they say).

TRAVELER’S Advisory:

The Court of Light is often sought out by cutters who want to test and purify their spirits. But a body really shouldn’t enter the tangled Loom unless he's looking for revelations (or is tired of life as he knows it).

The Dwarven Mountain

In a Nutshell:

This is dwarf central in the Outlands, the home of three dwarven powers: Vergadain (wealth and luck), Dugmaren Brightmantle (invention and dis¬ covery), and Dumathoin (mines and exploration). The entire operation is below ground - the nearest surface community is Ironridge.

TRAVELER’S Advisory:

Bring money and be a dwarf. There are many dwarven communities beneath the bar¬ ren, snow-topped mountains of this realm, and they react to strangers about as well as dwarves anywhere else (in other words, evil humanoids beware). The best armor and weapons in the Outlands come from Dwar¬ ven Mountain.

Gzemnid's Realm

In a Nutshell:

These deep tunnels are the stomping ground of Gzemnid, the beholder god of deception. It’s a jumble of winding passages that look like - and min¬ gle with — those of Ilsensine’s Realm. Gzemnid’s lair is also laced with traps and illusions, as befits the most subtle of the Eye Tyrants.

TRAVELER’S Advisory:

Berks who tread through these tunnels do so at their own risk; the beholder god ain’t too fond of other races. But some say the realm’s got permanent gates to various Lower Planes. Sure enough, fiends are often found prowling the maze, apparently with Gzemnid’s consent.

Hermitages

In a Nutshell

: There are a number of lone buildings and homesteads in the wilds of the Outlands, known collectively as hermitages. Some are occupied by pla- nars seeking time alone, some by petitioners seeking meditation, and some by proxies on the run from their masters (these are more common closer to the spire). Folks in hermitages can be of any human race.

Traveler’s Advisory:

Don’t just march into a her¬ mitage, or any unknown building for that matter. Out- lander courtesy usually involves hailing the house from a safe distance first. Remember, berk, the place could hold a peasant family accidentally sucked into the Out¬ lands, but it might also be some elder god on a fishing vacation.

The Hidden Realm

In a Nutshell:

Not found on any map, the Hidden Realm of the giant god Annam is said to be cloaked by magic, or maybe even sit in some parallel demiplane with a gate to the Outlands. Wherever it is, Annam sits in a crystal tower at the top of a huge mountain, watch¬ ing over the clockwork of the multiverse.

Traveler’s Advisory:

How does a body give tips for traveling in a land that ain’t there? One group of sages claims the Hidden Realm doesn’t even exist, while another bunch says it’s really the master control room of the planes (which shows what sages know).

The Hinterlands

In a Nutshell:

Most of the attention in the Out¬ lands falls on the circle of gate-towns by the rim. Primes (and even planars) can forget that the Land’s an infinite plane. Between the circle of gate-towns and the rim, it stretches out forever, a wild, ever-changing, gen¬ erally unexplored land. Some folks’ve heard talk of lost cities, new gates to unknown planes, even whole other realities if a body ventures far enough.

Traveler’s Advisory:

Distances are tricky business in the Outlands, and especially in the Hinterlands. A cutter can journey past Tradegate for a year and day, and still never lose sight of the spire behind him. Then he can turn around and be back in Tradegate in just a few days. Whatever there might be in the Hinterlands — life, realms, domains, gates, or towns — it’s still all pretty dark to folks closer to the spire.

Ilsensine's Realm (The Caverns of Thought)

In a Nutshell:

An incredibly hostile realm tied to that of Gzemnid, the Caverns of Thought are the terri¬ tory of Ilsensine, the mind flayer god of magic. It’s a confusing knot of dark passages, lit only by sickly- growing fungus. Even fiends of the Lower Planes steer clear of these tunnels.

Traveler’s Advisory:

The only reason for a cutter to come here is knowledge. Ilsensine (who looks like a huge, glowing, green brain) is said to know the dark of many things. However, the god demands a heavy price for its knowledge, often part of the asker’s mind. Plenty of berks who figured they’d give Ilsensine the laugh have ended up as brain-burned zombies.

Indep Villages

In a Nutshell:

Some small communities in the Out¬ lands aren’t gate-towns or realms of powerful deities. They exist more or less on their own, trying to be as enclosed, and self-supporting as possible. Anywhere from one hundred to six hundred bodies-call a village home, and the natives are folks who want to avoid the usual muddle of petitioners, proxies, and powers. Inter¬ estingly, these villages are often the birthplace of cut¬ ters who ehd up making names for themselves in the greater world.

Traveler’s Advisory:

The nature of these towns varies with their location in the Outlands, but all value their privacy. Ask an Indep why and he’s likely to bring up Goldheart, a ruined town near Torch. It was a thriv¬ ing Indep village before an army from Ribcage (under Lord Paracs) conquered it, burned it, and marched the survivors into slavery. Now, most Indep villages treat visitors with suspicion. Generally, the villages are found between the fourth and seventh rings, though there are reports of some closer to the spire.

Ironridge

IN a Nutshell:

Ironridge is a mostly human com¬ munity, nestled in the forbidding mountains that sepa¬ rate Glorium and Xaos from the spire. It’s a good jumping-off .point for travelers heading for the Dwar- ven Mountain, Gzemnid’s Realm, or the Caverns of Thought. The town often brings in dwarves looking for trade and fiends looking for slaves (or dinner).

Traveler's Advisory:

Most cutters head to Ironridge instead of the Dwarven Mountain or any other site, since entrances to the other domains are only about a day’s walk from the town. But it can be tricky to find: Ironridge’s location varies between the fifth and eighth rings of the Outlands.

Lost Patrols

In a Nutshell:

The Blood War between the tanar’ri and the baatezu rages throughout the Lower Planes, and often the fiends use the Outlands for flanking maneuvers. Just as often, though, parts of those attack¬ ing forces wander off, becoming lost patrols of about ten fiends of various types, under a single leader.

Traveler’s Advisory:

Lost patrols come in two fla¬ vors: successful and unsuccessful. Some of these bash¬ ers have managed to feed and equip themselves by raiding, sometimes terrorizing or taking control of Indep Villages. But the patrols that barely keep them¬ selves alive are more willing to bargain with a stronger opponent - that is, until they get a chance to turn stag. In either case, cutters should watch their backs.

The Mausoleum of Chronepsis

In a Nutshell:

Though it’s now ruined, this place looks like it was once a city of great power. Only one resident still lives here: Chronepsis, the dragon god of fate, who dwells in a cave below the ruins. Chronepsis is surrounded by hourglasses, which measure the life of every dragon in all the planes of existence (at least, that’s what dragon theology says).

Traveler’s Advisory:

Chronepsis likes to be left alone, and a berk who goes tramping in to see him had better have good reason. There are tales of some world- bound cutter thieving a dragon’s hourglass from his lair and then using it against that dragon, but this might just be puffeiy and lies.

The Modron Procession

In a Nutshell:

Every so often, Mechanus sends (some would say upchucks) a huge horde of Modrons into Automata. The horde is mostly monodrones and duodrones, with a sprinkling of the higher-level mod¬ rons. They all march around the ring of gate-towns in a clockwise path, but only a handful of them ever make it back to Automata — the Land is a tough place, berk.

Traveler’s Advisory:

The low-level modrons have little or nothing to say, and bashing one brings the entire horde down on the attacker. A cutter who runs into the procession should just stick to that old prime saying, “Live and let live.” Fact is, keeping a good dis¬ tance wouldn’t hurt, either.

The Palace of Judgment

In a Nutshell:

The Palace of Judgment is the main headquarters of a pantheon called the Celestial Bureau¬ cracy, and it’s a bustle of activity. The bodies here spend their time granting audiences, reviewing cases, and assigning dooms.

Traveler’s Advisory:

The high-up in the palace is Yen-Wang-Yeh, but he’s usually too busy sorting out fates to sit and talk with just any cutter who walks in the door. The big draw of this realm is its conduits to every other Outer Plane. ’Course, getting the nod to use these conduits is a different story.

The Realm of the Norns

In a Nutshell:

This gloomy grove is the home of the Norns of the Norse mythology. It’s a small realm, easy to miss in the wilderness that sprawls spireward of, Faunel. The area’s so overgrown that a berk standing in its depths would swear he’s in an underground vault. The Norns usually gather around the Well of Urd, at the center of the realm.

Traveler’s Advisory:

A cutter'shouldn’t knock on this door without a pretty good reason. Btitmost folks who come here have a strong one: a root of Yggdrasil (much like the one found in Glorium) is said to be somewhere nearby. ’Course, the realm also draws those who’re looking for the Well of Urd. The chant says that a body who looks into the well will see his fate. (A warning to the Clueless - poor sods who learn their fates usually curse the day they did.)

The River Ma'at

In a Nutshell:

A sluggish, wide flow that oozes from the region of Semuanya’s Bog, the Ma’at twists and turns its way from Torch to Excelsior before evapo¬ rating in a shining salt flat. The whole river’s dotted by small villages, many of which hold petitioners to Thoth.

Traveler’s Advisory:

The Ma’at regularly overflows its low banks, and the fertile silt carves a lush path through the rolling hills of the Outlands. Most of the river flows along the seventh ring, but a boat traveler’ll find that it crosses a ring here and there. Watch out for wildlife, too - crocodiles and crocodile-like creatures are common.

Semuanya's Bog

In a Nutshell?

A dismal swamp on the far shores of Tir fo Thuinn, Semuanya’s Bog is ruled (in theory, any¬ way) by the god of the same name. The swamp’s a wild, untamed region, filled with lizard men and, some say, dinosaurs.

Traveler’s Advisory:

There’s not much to brag about here, which makes it a plum spot for folks who want to hide out. Stories often float around about berks who find themselves unwelcome in Curst retiring to this bog to raise an army of lizard men. Unfortunately, the lizard men usually have better things to do - for instance, eating sods who try to raise armies.

Sheela Peryroyl's Realm

In a Nutshell:

A traveler to this small, quiet, agri¬ cultural community spireward of Ecstasy might think he stumbled into an Indep village. That is, until he noticed the residents (halflings all) and its supposed mistress (the halfling goddess of agriculture).

Traveler’s Advisory:

Some peery bashers think that the whole “goddess” idea is just a peel run by the half- lings. If it is, it works, because the realm’s survived plenty of incursions. Travelers are encouraged to be polite, eat all their vegetables, and be careful standing up (low ceilings).

The Spire

In a Nutshell:

The centerpost of the Outlands, the spire is an infinitely tall column topped by the city of Sigil. It’s the heart of the Land and can be seen from anywhere on the plane (weather permitting).

Traveler’s Advisory:

Magic doesn’t work near the slopes of the spire. What’s more, there are better ways to reach Sigil, so apart from a barmy berk or two trying to climb the blasted thing, it’s an empty region. Fact is, the few climbers who’ve started up the impossible slope have always failed, and their bodies never found.

Thebestys and Thoth's Estate

In a Nutshell:

These two spots are usually consid¬ ered to be the same place. The estate’s really just a few villages clumped around the River Ma’at, a part of the bigger city of Thebestys. Fact is, the burg is one of the largest nongate-towns in the Outlands, with a popula¬ tion of several thousand humans.

Traveler’s Advisory:

The key spot in Thebestys is the Great Library, which is said to have the answer to any question a cutter could ask. ’Course, finding that answer could take a body a long time. Thoth himself stays within the walls of the city - his presence (and his backing from the rest of the Egyptian powers) has made would-be invaders think twice.

Tir Fo Thuinn

In a Nutshell:

Once merely a piece of Tir na Og, this lake at the base of the spire is now a realm of its own. The part of the lake ruled by Manannan mac Lir, the Celtic sea god, is found ringward of the sixth ring.

Traveler’s Advisory:

The sea god’s territory is com¬ pletely underwater, without any markings on the sur¬ face. This is bad news for berks crossing the lake for the first time. Manannan mac Lir and his people don’t take kindly to folks passing overhead, and strong storms often come out of nowhere to drive off or sink vessels.

Tir Na Og

In a Nutshell:

This is a sprawling realm spireward,,., of Tradegate. Mostly rolling hills and farms, it’s spotted with a number of small villages and single homesteads. The region’s also home to the bulk of the Celtic pan¬ theon.

Traveler’s Advisory:

Getting to Tir na Og isn’t a problem, but within the realm the Celtic, powers all have separate domains. That’s the problem. The rule of three to eighteen days of travel seems to apply to each domain in the realm, so a body looking for a particular power may have a bit of a trip on his hands. Travelers also need to look out for the Wild Hunt, a pack of mystical hounds with an armored charioteer.

Tvashtri's Realm

In a Nutshell:

Some planars who’ve been here call it Tvashtri’s Laboratory or Tvashtri’s Workshop. The realm is a building set into the side of a hill. Inside the hill is an unending jumble of labs, libraries, workshops, and con¬ struction areas, and outside the whole place thunders with great energy crackling beneath its surface.

Traveler's Advisory:

Tvashtri’s realm might not win any contests, but it sure could come close. It’s said to be the second-best place for crafts outside the Dwar- ven Mountain, the second-best library outside of Thebestys, and the second-best source of magic outside of Tir na Og. ’Course, here it’s all in one place. Most of the petitioners are human worshipers of Tvashtri, but a lot of gnomes have come along over the years, too.

Walking Castles

In a Nutshell:

Since more powerful magic fails closer to the spire, some wizards who can cast only lower-level spells like to set up shop there (and so do other sods who’re just hiding out). For example, a mage who can only cast fourth-level spells would be a leatherhead to live beyond the fourth border ring — he’d be a ripe target for those who can toss higher-level spells.

’Course, the border rings move around, and these folks want to be able to move with them. The answer, for many, has been to make their castles mobile, and they’ve found three ways to do it: technology (which is not affected by the rings), magic (which is more effec¬ tive ringward), and godly boon (which can be effective close to the spire, depending on the powers involved). Huge castles on legs are sometimes seen striding through the Outlands, but most stay well away from busy areas.

Traveler’s Advisory:

When the Clueless spot a walking castle, they often head right for it, just to see how it works. (This is one reason that they’re called Clueless.) Most of the folks in these castles stay there because they want to be left alone. Fact is, a lot of them can defend them¬ selves pretty well. Be careful around their homes.

HIGHLIGHTS & IMPRESSIONS

The below listings include notes on highlighting the nature of the Otlands as characters explore and travel through it. These are suggestions of elements that can be used in descriptions of the landscape and denizens with the goal of actualizing the “outside” nature of the multiverse beyond the Material Plane. Use them to incorporate into encounters and adventures on the Outlands.

Petitioners of the Outlands

Every plane's got its quirks, and these show up fairly obviously in its petitioners. The miserable wretches of Gehenna don't know charity, while the fervent of Arcadia are fanatic in their pursuit of evil. Mean while, the petitioners of Ysgard madly battle each other for glory every day. Though there are far fewer petitioners of the Outlands (it's not in most mortals' nature to be truly neutral), they reflect their home plane, too. Their lives are the balance, the fulcrum between good and evil, law and chaos.

Some folks think Outlander petitioners would naturally refuse to take sides in any dispute, but that's not the case. The petitioners of the Outlands don't mind getting involved at all - in fact, the problem is keeping them from getting too involved. Here's the chant: Ask a petitioner of the Out lands to do one thing and he does two. If he gives you advice, he's just as likely to advise your enemy. See, the petitioners there have this feeling that every action they take affecting the balance of good and evil (or law and chaos) must be offset by an equal ac tion to the opposite side. Being dutiful petitioners, that's just what they try to do.

So, a basher's got to wonder just what this means. Suppose a petitioner gives directions to Plague-Mort. Does that mean he's got to find some body and give them directions to Glorium, just to balance things out? No, there's no law, chaos, good, or evil inherent in giving directions. However, if an Outlander petitioner smuggles a body away from the hunting fiends of Plague-Mort — a good act by most standards - then he's going to feel compelled to fix the balance. That same petitioner might raise the alarm as soon as the sod's out of town, or he might betray the next berk that's hunted by the fiends. A peti tioner's balancing doesn't have to be done immediately. Pure fact is, most of them carry little tallies of their deeds, sometimes in their heads and sometimes in little books.

What's this mean for a cutter who's got to deal with such folk? Well, most planars try not to ask too much of an Outlander petitioner; a body never knows when he's going to tip the balance, after all. When that cutter asks for something he knows is good, evil, lawful, or chaotic, he's a wise one to ex pect some kind of backfire. If he hires an Outlander petitioner-mercenary to help him raid the Fated's headquarters in Sigil, he's a leatherhead to expect the mere to sneak in quiet. The petitioner's more likely to bellow out their arrival — just to balance things out between the two groups. 'Course, the petitioner might not do anything now and balance accounts out at some other time, with some other person. Or, he might be balancing the scales now — a body never knows for sure. How they decide when to fix the bal ance is something no blood's ever figured out. Ask a petitioner and he can't or won't tell, either. Folks in Sigil figure the Outlanders just like to torment others, keeping them on hooks - will they act this time or won't they? It might be true, as more than enough berks get burned up with the suspense.

This business leads to other surprises from the Outlanders. Sometimes they do things that seem like downright meanness, like lying or hurting a body for no visible reason. Ask them about it and they're just "paying back the balance." 'Course, other times they'll do things that, if a body didn't know better, would just be barmy generosity. An Outlander might suddenly offer advice, give information, or cut his prices without explanation. Fact is, it's all done from the balance book they make, and folks who make the Outlands their home just get used to it.

Magic on the Outlands

As far as the standard restrictions go, most planars call Sigil or the Outlands their home. This makes all those abjure, holy word, and protection from evil spells useless against the majority of planars found on the Outlands. It's a good thing too; otherwise, ad venturing would be a pretty tough bet. Spells that use an ethereal pathway need keys before they'll work. Luckily for spellcasters, conjuration/summon ing spells can call upon creatures from any Outer Plane or the Astral Plane, which is the biggest range of choices for any of the Outer Planes.

It's true that all planes affect magic, but no plane works on it like the Outlands. Go to Mechanus and no matter where a cutter is, his spells might work differently, but they al ways work differently in the same way. On Mechanus, an illusion won't work, no matter what cog wheel a berk's standing on.

It’s happened plenty of times: A prime makes it to the Outlands, gets herself into all sorts of trouble, and whips up a powerful spell or two to save her skin. Trouble is, if she’s not standing in the right place or doesn’t have the right key, the spell’s likely to fizzle. The dead-book’s full of the Clueless who didn’t know the dark of how magic works in the Land.

Here, the strength of magic depends on how far a body is from the spire - the center of the plane. (Any berk who still has to ask how an infinite plane can have a center is in the Wrong universe.) The direction away from the spire is generally known as ringward or outward (toward the ring of the Outer Planes), while the direction toward the spire is called spireward or inward.

The Outlands are divided into concentric circles, though the borders of the circles aren’t marked in any way. As a body crosses these borders, magical abilities drop away. In the farthest circle ringward, all magic works normally (as normally as it ever does in the Land). But as a body moves closer to the spire, more spells are locked out, until at the spire itself no magic works at all (except for Sigil, of course).

These circles are known as rings or layers, depending on where a body’s from. Natives of Sigil call them rings, and count outward from the spire to the rim. Bashers from the Outer Planes tend to think in layers, and so that’s what they call the circles, counting inward from the rim to the spire.

For example, a beholder’s disintegrating eye is treated as a wizard’s disintegrate spell, which is sixth-level. Neither’Il work within the fifth ring or fifth layer. These restrictions apply to magic for both wizards and priests.

All of the gate-towns sit in the outermost ring/ layer, where magic isn’t affected (except by the normal restrictions of the Outlands). Most of the other important sites are found in the sixth, seventh or eighth ring outward, since that’s where the powers of the plane usually set up shop. Here’s why: Too far from the spire, their domains could slip into another Outer Plane; too close, and they couldn’t grant their worshipers all the magic they’d like.

There’s one other thing that’s pretty important about the rings and layers - they move. The sodding borders slide back and forth across the Land, so locations can fall into a range of different rings. A patch of ground’ll be in the sixth ring one day and in the fifth the next. ’Course, a piece of land almost never moves more than one ring or so from its original spot. Bigger changes usually take place only if a nearby gate-town goes tumbling off into an Outer Plane.

Since the borders between the rings aren’t marked, most berks aren’t sure of where they are until they try to cast a spell and it fails. If a cutter’s lucky enough to have a mimir, it’ll tell her what ring or layer she’s standing in, but it won’t give the location of the next nearest ring or layer.

Travel between rings or layers takes just as long as trips between towns. From the ninth ring, a body’d go for three to eighteen days to reach the eighth ring, and then another three to eighteen days to reach the seventh ring. Just wandering around the Outlands crossing rings can really eat up a cutter’s time.

Travel time between rings is separate from travel time between specific locations. That is, a body going from Curst to the Palace of Judgment takes the normal amount of time, no matter how many rings she crosses along the way.

The spire’s another stoiy - it’s infinite, so it’s not treated as a specific location. A body walking from Curst to the base of the spire’d have to cross a number of rings to do it, at three to eighteen days each.

Rings Within the Ring

That ain't the case on the Outlands. Here, where a cut ter stands makes all the difference. That's because the plane's divided into 10 layers, like the skins of an onion. See, as a body moves through each layer toward the center of the Outlands, more and more magical power is — well, neutralized — until at the very center there's none left. ('Course, that's where Sigil is, and it promptly breaks all those rules.) None of the layers are of equal thickness, and there's no defined borders, so the only way a cutter knows what layer she's standing in is by casting a spell and seeing it fly or fail. (In other words, the DM may have to make a judgment call and the player'll have to live with it.)

The outermost layer of the onion is also the thickest. This is where most of the realms are found. Most of the gates, portals, and conduits to the Great Ring spill into this layer. Out here, there's generally no special restrictions on spells beyond the stan dards. The exception to this set of rules is the gate towns, the settlements that form around each portal to the Great Ring. In some of these, a little of the magical effect from the nearby plane leaks over and creates special conditions, either enhancing or di minishing a certain school of magic. Not every gate town is affected, though, so a cutter's wise to ask around before he gets in trouble. ('Course, DMs can learn the dark of such things by studying the entries on those burgs in this book and in others to come.)

In the second layer from the outside, the power of magic is diminished so that 9th-level spells don't function, including spell-like abilities of creatures. Note that this does not apply to any of the powers. 'Course, while this is bad news for wizards, it don't mean a thing to priests. A side effect of this notion is that the layer is home to several powers who are ap athetic to wizards, like those in the Dwarven Moun tain. Now, a wizard on the second layer doesn't for get his 9th-level spells, they just don't work when he tries to cast them. As mentioned, there's no warning or signal when this happens, no borderline on the ground or signs to mark the ring, so a cutter's got to keep track of just where he is or there might be a nasty surprise.

In the third layer, 8th-level spells (and spell-like abilities) are shut down. This and all the following effects are cumulative, so on this ring both 8th- and 9th-level spells are affected, and so on. The abilities of powers aren't harmed in this circle, either. Because all this still doesn't mean a thing to priests, this layer's also got realms of powers that are either hos tile or indifferent to wizards.

At the fourth layer from the outside, 7th-level spells (and spell-like abilities) cease to function. Now priest spells are affected, so there's very few realms here. Not too many of tjje powers are indifferent to priests, but a few that are^nTrgtiJ. make their homes here.

At the fifth layer, 6th-level spells (aitd spell-like abilities) fail. In addition, jllusion/phantasm spells are obvious for what they are Unless a cutter has the right key to give them force. Level-draining powers alsofail at this ring.

At the sixth layer from the outside, 5th-level spells (and spell-like effects) fail. Poisons are also rendered inert here. Folks dying of poiswn are some times gated here as a quick way to stop the damage, since even poison in a body is affected.

At the seventh layer, 4th-levels spells (and spell like abilities) don't operate. Conduits from the Great Ring can't reach this ring, although there's still door ways to and from Sigil. Getting to this layer is mostly done through the Cage, since few folks want to take the time to hike from the sixth to the seventh ring. The powers of demigods are suppressed here. Demipowers still retain their defensive powers — any regeneration, magic resistance, or protections — but all spell-like offensive powers are lost.

At the eighth layer, 3rd-leyel spells (and spell like abilities) are left impotent. Alrfte^t as important, spells and spell-like abilities (including those of all powers) that require an Astral connection fail — nothing can be conjured or Summoned to this por tion of the plane. Here also, the powers of lesser deities are suppressed like a demigod's in the seventh layer. There are no realms from this point in, but the ring's a popular place for parleys. A power can walk among dire rivals here and still feel protected, espe cially since his enemy can't summon reinforcements for an ambush.

At the ninth layer, 2nd-level*spells (and spell like effects) no longer function. Even more impor tant, the offensive powers of intermediate gods are held in check. At this ring, high-level parleys are held.

At the center of the Outlands, around the base of the spire that supports Sigil, is the ultimate nega tion of power. No magic or godly faculties of any type work here. This is the ultimate in meeting grounds, for here everyone, no matter how powerful, is rendered equal. It's rarely visited, for only the most pressing business can force the greater gods to parley here. Reaching the center requires a tedious overland journey from the edge of the seventh ring, since all Astral connections are severed inside this radius.

And then there's Sigil. Sitting at the tip of the spire, it's a different world. Spells in the Cage work as if a cutter was on the outermost ring of the plane. Some bloods argue it's because Sigil's in a separate little demi plane that is linked only geographically to the Out lands. Others say it sits at the confluence of energies from the plane. Most folks don't care. All they know is that magic works in the City of Doors.

Spell Keys

Even if a body’s standing in the right ring or layer, she still might find that some of her spells don’t work. That’s just the way it is on the planes. But don’t give up yet, berk - a spell key might set things right.

A spell key is a special item, method, or even another spell that’ll allow a particular spell to be cast. Without the right key, a spell could putter out halfway through or not even work at all. They only work for wizard spells, though (priest spells use the mysterious power keys).

Cutters have to tumble to the nature of spell keys on their own. A lot of that stuff is dark to most folks. But the kinds of spells that need keys are pretty well known:

• Divination spells that contact powers and creatures in the Inner Planes.
• Elemental conjurations that summon creatures or effects from the Inner Planes.
• Ethereal-based spells that need access to the Ethereal Plane.
• Energy Plane spells that need access to the Negative or Positive Energy Planes.
• Shadow magic spells that need access to the Demiplane of Shadow.
• Spells of any type that conjure, contact, or tap energies from the Inner Planes, the Ethereal Plane, or any of the Demiplanes. These spells (like dismissal or drawmij’s instant summons) might work just fine in the Outlands, but if a body wants to use them to reach one of those other planes, it’ll take a spell key.

By the way, any berk who figures on using psionic abilities to duplicate these spells or reach the Inner Planes, Ethereal Plane, or Demiplanes is out of luck.

Power Keys

Power keys are clerical in nature. Like spell keys, they’re used to boost certain spells on a particular plane. ’Course, as there aren’t a lot of powers or pantheons in the Outlands (not as many as on some other planes, anyway), there aren’t many power keys, either.

Fact is, the current chant says the Land’s got no power keys at all. But cutters keep looking all the same. Here’s the dark of it, though: If there were any power keys, they’d have to be created by a very high-up blood — in other words, the DM.

LAY OF THE LAND

The Outlands are what the Clueless refer to as the Plane of Concordant Opposition — a mouthful, to say the least. Whatever a sod calls it, it isn't the wildest, weirdest, or most hostile plane in the multiverse, which is precisely the reason it makes a good campaign base. Think of it as the almost-pacified border fief found in many prime-material campaigns. Here's a place where char acters can rest, recover, investigate, and prepare for their adventures without having to evacuate the area at a moment's notice. It's a se cure center for their explorations into the rest of the planes.

Not too secure, though! Because they're adjacent to every Outer Plane, the Outlands are probably the most heavily poached territory in the multiverse. Every high-up man out there's try ing to sway one burg or an other on the Land to see things his way. A lot of places, like the gate towns, are al most gone, slipping into the plane of a power whose in fluence has taken its toll. When a town crosses all the way into another plane, the process'll continue until the gate shows up at the next town on the Land, eventually making its way toward Sigil.

That makes Sigil more than a quiet little burg where nothing happens. In fact, with all its door ways to other planes, it just might be the biggest prize of all the prizes of the multiverse. Control Sigil and a body can get anywhere. All a power's got to do is get enough "right-thinking" people on its side.

'Course, with places like Tvashtri's, Thoth's, or Ilsensine's realms (see below), the Near Lands aren't exactly dull either. Leave the relative serenity of Sheela Peryroyl's orchards and a cutter might get caught up in Yen-Wang-Yeh's endless halls of judgment or Gzemnid's vile lair.

Even when a berk knows his way around the local petitioners, there's still plenty of outsiders to make his life hell. The Outlands are a meeting ground for almost everything else on the planes, and a lot of them seem to think it's just an extension of their own terri tory. Automata (page 28), Bedlam (page 30), Curst (page 35), Glorium (page 40), Plague Mort (page 45), Ribcage (see page 46), Xaos (page 50), and the other towns just inside the Great Ring all take on the character of their adjacent planes, which makes for exciting living indeed.

The Clueless figure that, being a plane of perfect neutrality, the Outlands have got to be the most boring place around. It's obvious they haven't t spent time there, and they certainly haven't had to cool their heels in the Astral for too long - now that's boring! Sure, the Outlands don't have the burning pits of Baator, the howling madness of Pande monium, or even the glowing mountain of Celestia. The Land's a little short on big, spectacular landscapes, but it ain 't boring, berk.

It's because the plane's neutral that the place is so popular. Anyone with the means can come here — that's one of the properties of the plane.

On most of the Great Ring, a power can't enter a plane that's not its home, but on the Outlands any power can come and go as it wants. That doesn't mean it can do anything it wants, though. Visiting powers respect the realms of those deities native to the Outlands, and they usually can't enter them without per mission. Even petitioners from other planes can come here, though most of them are from the Upper Planes (the guards of the Lower Planes don't like their prizes getting loose).

Sigil stands at the very heart of the plane, balanced on a spire that disappears into nothingness above. This is important: There's no way to walk from the Out lands, or anywhere else for that matter, into Sigil. The Cage can be reached ONLY through the many doors that open onto its streets.

The realms of the Outlands lie mostly along the outer edges of the plane, close to portals that lead to the Great Ring. There are 13 known realms and there's ru mors of more, though no blood's ever found them. Most of these realms are the do mains of single powers, but a few are home to several related powers. Each realm adopts the character of its ruling power or powers. The most sig nificant or best-known ones are described below. See the map of the Outlands to pinpoint their positions.

Tir Na Og

"The Land of Youth" is the largest of the realms in the Land, and home to most powers of the Celtic pan theon: Daghdha, Diancecht, Goibhniu, Lugh, Manan nan mac Lir, Morrigan, and Oghma. The realm is di vided into lesser areas, where particular powers are dominant. For instance, Mag Mell (Field of Happiness) is the domain of Daghdha. Here the woods are lush and well tended, intermixed with fields of oats, wheat, and barley. Orchards of apples and sloes seem to grow with haphazard neatness. There are no cities in Tir na Og, only villages and lone homesteads. The petitioners there live in rural contentment, supporting themselves mainly through hunting, farming, and weaving.

In another part of the realm are the workshops of Goibhniu, built at the bases of exposed hills. Far distant is Tir fo Thuinn, the Land Under the Waves. This is the domain of Manannan mac Lir. On the sur face there is nothing, but below the waves is an en tire kingdom peopled by petitioners who farm, herd, and labor as if they were on the surface.

The Norns

This realm can be reached only by crossing a wilder ness more savage than most. It's a tiny realm, but one that possesses great power. Here the Norns of Norse lore huddle among the roots of the plane spanning Yggdrasil. The canopy is so thick that the realm's like a great cavern. The few petitioners here are unhappy shades waiting to hear from the Norns. These powers huddle round the Well of Urd to read the fates of men and gods. Sometimes a prime or a planar'll consult them, but it's bad business to learn one's future before it's time.

Sheela Peryroyl's Realm

This area is small; indeed, everything about it is undersized, as befits a power of the halflings. There are no cities or towns here, only a single, extensive orchard and a large halfling farm, partially above ground, but mostly below. The petitioners here are all half lings, tending the great orchard and farm.

The Dwarven Mountain

So named for the breed of its petitioners and its pow ers, this realm lies under the influence of Dugmaren Brightmantle, Dumathoin, and Vergadain. The whole realm takes the form of a gigantic rocky mountain. The powers take no interest in the mountain's sur face, so there are random petitioner and planar set tlements on its slope that have little to do with the realm. Inside, the mountain is honeycombed with caverns. Those nearest the peak are the domain of Vergadain, which is notorious for its gaming halls and rumored treasure houses, as befits a god of luck and wealth. Further down is the domain of Dug maren. There, the caverns are a wild disarray of fur naces, forges, smelters, villages, and libraries filled with esoteric tomes on metallurgy and other iron crafts. The deepest part of the realm is claimed by Dumathoin. This area is nothing but cold caverns and mines coiling around great veins of ore. It is ru mored that the petitioners of this domain spend their days and nights secretly singing the chants that cause the veins to swell and grow. Very little is actu ally smelted, for the petitioners here prize metal only in its natural state. The petitioners here are all dwarves, if a sod couldn't guess, although there's more than a few run-ins with folks from the realms of Gzemnid Ilsen sine, and others on the surface. See page 36 for more information on the Dwarven Mountain.

Semuanya's Bog

The far shore of Tir fo Thuinn barely rises above the plane's equivalent of sea level, becoming a nest for lizard men and other bog lovers. The petitioners found here are truly unique: lizard men, all. It's a mostly deserted realm, although some independent minded planars, including more than one desperate outlaw, have set their kip here.

GZEMNID and ILSENSINE'S REALM(S)

No blood knows if these two powers share one realm or if they just lack the imagination to make their realms different. Both rule over caverns that run deeper than even the dwarf realm, and all the tunnels merge together. Things foul and dangerous are sup posed to stalk the halls, and most bashers figure there's secret portals to the Lower Planes here. Cer tainly, the darker fiends of the Lower Planes take res idence in these realms when business brings them to the Outlands.

Gzemnid's realm is a dangerous and deadly maze. Illusions, distortions, and subtle charms pre dominate here to match the beholder god's nature. There's no settlements — a petitioner's got to go it on his own, setting up his own nest somewhere in the passages. The petitioners themselves are an unpleas ant lot: a few beholders and a goodly number of thieves. They're willing to make deals, but they're al ways on the watch for their own rewards.

Ilsensine's realm is the more dangerous of the two. The illithid god exists here only because it con spires against Good, Evil, Law, and Chaos alike. Pla nar adventurers don't like to go here because the place pulses with a mind-wracking drone that burns in a basher's head. Nor are they welcome, since the ruling power prefers those whom it can control. Still, it's said that here a cutter can learn nearly anything that transpires on another plane - if he can stay sane long enough to find Ilsensine and ask the question. It's quite possible that Ilsensine maintains realms on other planes, or that it's a god-brain whose neurons flow to the other planes, much like the roots of Ygg drasil. See "The Caverns of Thought," on page 32, for more information about Ilsensine's realm.

CYCLE OF TIME

Outlands has a 24 hour cycle of day and night the same as the prime material.

SURVIVING

The average prime is likely to be a bit taken back by the enthusiasm of the factions on the Outer Planes. On the Prime Material Plane, philosophy's just one person's way of seeing things. Here's the real chant, and pay attention, berk: All this attention to ideology is important because it can actually cause the borders of the planes to change! If enough folks in a town hold a belief contrary to the rest of their plane, that town's going to drift away to another plane, slipping from the grasp of one reality to join another. To put it another way, if enough folks out side a power's realm start subscribing to that power's beliefs, then its realm's going to expand to include them.

That means anywhere on the Outer Planes could conceivablv become part of somewhere else.

What a sod believes in, then — law, chaos, good, and evil - has a direct influence on the multiverse. Philosophy is more than just talk, philosophy is ac tion. Hence, the Outer Planes are the site of an end less struggle for the hearts and minds of everyone on them.

Think about it, berk. The Blood War is more than a mindless battle of extermination between fiends. It's a war to establish a single, united Lower Plane. To a fiend's way of thinking, those that can't be persuaded to its point of view must be eliminated, put in the dead-book, and so the War rages on. In the same vein, the factions in Sigil aren't there just be cause it's convenient; they're each trying to sway the city to their point of view. If they do, the whole Cage'll vanish off to some other plane. (That's why the Lady of Pain isn't just a figure - she's Sigil's an chor against the rest of the multiverse.)

All of this means something to the player char acters, too. It means their actions can sometimes change the face of the planes. By getting involved with the philosophical politics — for instance, by either thwarting or supporting a faction's coup in a border town - they might keep that burg from the brink or give it the final push over the edge, sending it to another plane. When they choose, they make a difference a person can see and know.

So how's this work in play? Well, first it gives a whole new set of teeth to the old phrase, "a clash of ideas." Good, evil, neutrality, law, and chaos are all trying to gain new lands and new adherents at the expense of all the others while trying to hang on to what they've got. When two factols get to debating in Sigil, one may just decide the other's too dangerous and hit him, arrest him, publicly humiliate him, frame him, kill him, or hire adventurers to get the goods on him. It's not because the factols personally don't like each other, it's because this is a campaign where ideas have real power. That's a clash of ideas, planar-style. Like the headline says, factols are "philosophers with clubs."

TRAVELING AROUND

Between the gate-towns and other populated areas, the bulk of the Outlands is pretty much open, empty space. Here and there, a traveler’ll run into sharp-toothed mountains, rolling hills, windswept badlands, and forests of all kinds of vegetation. But these places’ve turned their backs on the “normal” rules for topography, geography, and climate. (Fact is, the Outlands map in the Planescape Campaign Setting boxed set is more sugges¬ tion than reality; DMs can mix and match terrain as they see fit.) Also, with chunks of the Land always breaking off or adding on, long-term structures like roads don’t usually last too long. A body has to make it on his own.

But there’s another way for folks who don’t feel like walking: taking a gate from Sigil. The city’s got a number of magical portals that lead to the gate-towns and some even go farther, right into the Outer Planes. These gates are real handy, but they tend to move around. Smart cutters’ll find themselves a local guide. Those who do cross the Land on foot often com¬ plain that it drives ’em barmy. Journeys take a random amount of time - as Outlanders say, “It takes as long as it takes, no more or less.” A body can walk from Rigus to Ribcage in a few days, only to find the return trip takes several weeks.

For gaming purposes, though, figure that it takes about three to eighteen days to move between nearby points — for example, a trip from Plopeless to one of its neighboring gate- towns, Torch or Curst. For longer trips, just add up the pieces. So, a body going from Hopeless to Ribcage must first get to Torch (three to eighteen days), and then press on to Ribcage (another three to eighteen days). Even if he tries to avoid any contact with Torch', the i trip’d still take from six to thirty-six days.

Here’s another example: A body wants to go from Hopeless to Thoth’s Estate. (Folks who’ve been to Hope less know why all the sods ih these examples would want to leave.) First, it’d take three'fto eighteen days to reach the River Ma’at, then another'three toeighteen days to follow it downstream to Thoth’s Estate. By the way, Thoth’s Estate and the city of Thebestys are the only spots that don’t follow the travel rule - they’re really considered to be one area, and it takes little or no time to go between them.

The Clueless usually think that riding a horse’ll make a trip faster. Not so. It’ll take the same amount of time, no matter how a body goes. Then again, sods who get lost in the Outlands might appreciate a horse - to eat. (Some planars do talk of a growing herd of camels, and another of buffalo, that’ve been brought into the Land and left to go feral.)

The Outlands touches the Blessed Fields of Elysium

The Outlands

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Blessed Fields of Elysium

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The Outlands touches the Clockwork Nirvana of Mechanus

The Outlands

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Clockwork Nirvana of Mechanus

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The Outlands touches the Ever-Changing Chaos of Limbo

The Outlands

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Ever-Changing Chaos of Limbo

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The Outlands touches the Ever-Changing Chaos of Limbo

The Outlands

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Gray Waste of Hades

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The Outlands touches the Heroic Domains of Ysgard

The Outlands

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Heroic Domains of Ysgard

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The Outlands touches the Infernal Battlefield of Acheron

The Outlands

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Infernal Battlefield of Acheron

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The Outlands touches the Infinite Doors of the World Serpent

The Outlands

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INFINITE DOORS OF THE WORLD SERPENT

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The Outlands touches the Infinite Layers of the Abyss

The Outlands

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Infinite Layers of the Abyss

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The Outlands touches the Nine Hells of Baator

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Nine Hells of Baator

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The Outlands touches the Oympian Glades of Arborea

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Olympian Glades of Arborea

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The Outlands touches the Peaceable Kingdoms of Arcadia

The Outlands

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Peaceable Kingdoms of Arcadia

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The Outlands touches the Seven Heavens of Mount Celestia

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Seven Heavens of Mount Celestia

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The Outlands touches the Tartarian Depths of Carceri

The Outlands

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Tarterian Depths of Carceri

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The Outlands touches the Twin Paradises of Bytopia

The Outlands

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Twin Paradises of Bytopia

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The Outlands touches the Windswept Depths of Pandemonium

The Outlands

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Windswept Depths of Pandemonium

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