"Thinkin' and a-thinking 'till there's nothing I ain't thunk,

Breathin' in the stink, 'till finally I stunk

It was at that time, I swear I lost my mind

I started making plans to kill my own kind."

 

- The Violent Femmes, "Country Death Song"

 

Random notes on Plaguemort:

 

It's quite a testament to the power and variety of the Abyss that this city

exists at all, but the planes hunger for the goods and services the Thousand

and One Closets can offer, while the Abyss hungers for the stuff of the

planes. Plaguemort is a hideous moil of razorvine, refuse, and disease.

Those citizens who can't afford frequent curative magics are infested with

parasites and bacteria, and rat-anthropy runs rampant; they say Squerrik

himself walks the streets. An arch-lictor rules the city in the name of the

demon princes, while in the midst of their anguish the people take solace in

the cold Lady of Pain.

 

Unthinkable in Sigil, the cult of the Lady in Plaguemort is old and well

established; her razor-sharp image appears in nearly every household shrine,

and the architecture sports the same placatory blades that are seen

everywhere in the Cage. Plaguemorters pray to the Lady of Pain as the bright

beacon that alone is capable of delivering them from the squallor of their

home in a way that mere drugs cannot. Legend says that she was once

Arch-Lictor of Plaguemort herself and alone of the city's rulers failed to

deliver it to the tanar'ri lords, instead causing it to slide all the way to

its present position above the infinite Spire, where she rules it still. The

people of Plaguemort pray that she will return to the crux between the Abyss

and the Land, and do the same for their incarnation of the city.

 

In the caves Hinterward of town is a portal leading to Sigil. Located in

within a deep pit, the key is devotion to the Lady of Pain - the bottom of

the pit is littered with the bones of the faithless. The portal leads

directly to one of the Lady's mazes, for, of course, Her Serenity does not

tolerate worshippers. The idea of being transfigured, immortalized within

the eternal moment of a Maze sounds wondrous to the typical Plaguemorter,

however.

 

The Illuminated cult, with its talk of the vivid agony of revelation, shows

token respect for the Lady of Pain, but it is far to ambitious to actually

worship her. They've managed to gain a rough equivalent ot the Sign of One's

role in Sigil, with their lodge acting as an informal House of Speakers for

Plaguemort's quarreling power groups, enough that the city's tumble into the

Abyss has been delayed indefinately. This has earned the sect the emnity of

Squerrik, who hopes to use the gate-town as a seed for a new Abyssal layer

flavored with the skins of rats.

 

Sites:

The Bridge of Hallucinations

The Fortress of Saved Skulls (githyanki enclave)

The Road of Welts, The Road of Bruises, -- psoriasis, Hard fun, Penguins,

Destruction, Scabies, Gout, Mumps , Rashes, Blood, Purple bones, etc.

Brook's Tower (I don't know)

Upper Reaches (AKA the Weakling District, a bastion of good)

Hambone Court

Infection (missions from good-aligned gods)

Temple of Knowledge (a wicked university run by cowled priests)

 

The inhabitants often have weird distortions like gray scaly or black,

chitonous skin, filmy membranes in their eyes, green mold covering their

body, or no eyes. This is a result of local parasites, and not necessarily a

sign of plane-touch.

 

>From: Emlyn Shannon <[email protected]>

 

>I guess Hopeless, Torch, Curst, and Bedlam all have reasons for people

>being

>there. But If so many people don't want to wind up in the Abyss someday,

>why

>do they stay?

 

Money. There's money to be made from the Abyss, all the more so because not

everyone is willing to take the risks required.

 

Sigil's tight on real estate. Most Plague-Morters who go to Sigil end up

living in the Hive, which is actually *worse* than Plague-Mort. Remember,

Sigil is also a gate-town to the Abyss, but its doors lead to far deadlier

places than the Plain of Infinite Portals. To a Hiver, Plague-Mort is

actually quite pleasant. There's no risk of Sigil sliding into the Abyss,

but you could accidently activate a portal to the Plane of Unending Horror

and Agony or just be murdered.

 

Also, the Outlands are infinite, and the lower end is crusty and barren. If

you don't know where the portals are, it's a very long way to anywhere else

survivable.

 

Not everyone in Plague-Mort is miserable. Some are wealthy, and have access

to sanitary homes and clerics who can cure whatever they pick up outside.

Their presence is for the rest of the population a reminder of what I

usually think of as the American Dream, the force that causes people to ride

in rickity ships, covered wagons, unsteady jalopies, and the backs of vans

to god-forsaken places like Kansas and California. It's as terrible as

anything, but maybe not so terrible as Mexico or Ireland, because at least

you have the illusion of hope.

 

So why do some want the Lady of Pain to rescue them? The jink is always

greener on the other side of the portal, as they say. And even with portals

available, moving costs money.

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