Planescape (IC)

This is the IC thread for my Planescape campaign. If you want to join or read more about the setting/campaign, head over to the OOC thread here. 

It's another day in the City of Doors, a few hours after peak. Diffuse magical light filters down through the yellow smog and past tall spiked buildings overgrown with black razorvine to illuminate a narrow street, bustling with a menagerie of humanoid beings. A centaur-like Bauriar easily cuts through a crowd of Elves, Gith, and Tieflings, passing an Athar Anti-Priest shouting about the lies of the Gods from her soapbox, while a yellow whip-thin fiend watches them with hungry eyes from a shadowed alley. 

Suddenly, shouting breaks out, and the crowd scatters. A tall figure dressed in flowing red robes is floating between the buildings, just over the heads of the fleeing passerby. Her impassive face surrounded by a halo of jagged blades, and she is accompanied by a few floating Dabus guards. 

"It's the Lady! Run for it if you don't want to get mazed!" 

Everyone listens. Even the fiend slinks further back into the shadows, unwilling to draw the attention of the legendary ruler of the city. Just the sight of the Lady is enough to cause dread to roil through the city -- her appearance is a bad omen. If something is notable enough to draw her out of wherever she resides, that something must be powerful. And dangerous. Seeing her like this usually heralds dark times in the city, a threat she thinks is powerful enough to see to personally. No cutter wants to get caught in the crossfire, or let her think that maybe they are that threat, so everyone clears the street, and pulls their gray shades shut over their narrow windows as she passes.

All except one man. He clutches a spiked railing on a balcony above and leans forward, watching her with the steadied confidence of man who has started down death itself. Some people even claim the Lady of Pain stopped, turned her head, and looked up at the man, before continuing on her way. Others say they even exchanged a few words, veiled threats as if they were rival rulers meeting hiding behind pleasantries. A few chaosmen even describe the two breaking into song a dance. But few disagree about the identity of the man: Rowan Darkwood, leader of The Fated. Who else would stare her down, who else but the man who has said himself he wants to rule the city himself?

The Lady soon disappears again, and the city returns to its normal rhythms, resonating with the vitality of a hundred different places. But the rumors spread. Something is happening in Sigil, and who knows who will get caught up in the chaos?