Journey

Glimmer in the darkness, the armor suit clanks dull echos, reverb was out of sync being a seconds slower and then warpped. A misted breath twirls the along stretching corridor. It only just about dim enough to make out the cobble flooring, mirror reflective windows of the building. A light arm stretch in depth.

A translucent panel glows softly, blocking where the knight was facing.

'Welcome to Sigil¹. Do not fight, break the doors or bring illegal materials across other worlds. This the one and only warning. Consequence is worse then having you're soul stolen or enslaved for the entertainment of the lady².'

"How do we get rid of this distraction?" A middle aged military uniform steps through the velvet black curtain. All whom came the had their senses dull down, a wash of warmth from head to chest. No matter the adjustment or wipping your eyes, this text message floated every which way any looked.

"System administrator, I accept your conditions. We aren't here for war nor are we here to cause more problems. We have enormous problems as it is. I accept the challenges you give. In return I need to share your authority." The mask growls a in lower tones.

The grey clay of what is considered the overall color was a base tone. A very hard to miss change were tattoos of which draw more features of face. Neon highlights drew out the eyes and a red staining over the teeth. Their head tilts with a bow to this panel, causing a long streak of black ink ti drip, following the nose line. This uncomfortable part is the noise of bubbling in the throat, gurgling with rigid breathing.

'Welcome back, J@#3$. The worlds have been expecting you.' The last folks make it through the velvet, also jumped about the annoying untangled glass in their sight. The first set are muttering of the things they are able to see and do with a 'system' panels.

Someone finally has realized the voice commands, and was explaining this was something they would have done playing video games. Status windows are accessed with their suitable public information finalized. Options of settings like window screen transparency, tint color shading, language and font are accessed and adjusted. The long chatter changed topic to video game troupes, such as the status basics. The meaning of stat measurements.

"Why are they explaining this? Don't living humans have this already." A Demon race hunter of oath asked thier ally. This fella was orange, in true form the skin is scaled sparsely of deep sunset amber scales. Smooth orange skin, black eye of slit orange pupils. The head shape would sit better for a vaptor then a humanoid.

"No... these humans don't have this experience in thier world. They come from a source realm, there place among worlds is connecting dots together. Such frist hand experience with the systems isn't normal. But... its the frist time I have ever heard the system welcome back something. Every entry is a clean slate." Mostly human with common underwear super model features, if you ignore the devils tail and small anime horns behind the ears.

These two are the only non-human folks that are physically with the group. The rest are god followers, their ghost images of their gods watching over or the few dead human relatives in Damned form. The 'host' of this group would be considered three maybe four things squashed into one body. This host has also brought along a child from mage island, no one going to ask if that kids human or not.

The group froze as the silent alley is pulling wider, the gateway they are from closed shut behind them. Many eyes look out for march of thundering feet. A welcome party of 60 torn repaired metal mechanical shapes crawling on four limbs. They have beadie bulb eyes balls casted lights to them all. Analyses of threat levels. Cogs spin and stalled creaking. A sprinkle of rust iron cloud is hissed out by the nearest human. A light annoying vibration was almost a dialing tone. Pitching to ring in a level that everyone was able to hear. Its annoying bleep was sparking words.

"Lord Ender..." Fizzed within a sea of smooth static feedback, "The Goddess of space sends her regards with gifts. You know how to fetch them from us." The information pannel props up for those whom muttered 'examine'.

'-Mad machines of Lum- Levels 4 through 12. Machines with artificial intelligence from a race erased from time. They're of a pact made between the gears of oath. Current state, neutral.'

"This isn't how they encounter us normally." The veteran of orange scales spoken softly between the newbies.

"Are you tired yet?" Their eatheral shape-shifting host appearance had changed from their crossing into Sigil. Taller and less solid, a form that broke into mist and liquid constantly pulling to reconstruct once more. The metal and neon highlights were the only sort of vague human shaping.

"There still things we must do." 20 sided bodies with four of those side having blade spider legs. The single camera eye are on retractable wire that bends as if a snake recoiled from missing a bite. The nearest pannel at the facing direction was a speaker box. That this creaking static montone rose pitch and down bellow human hearing again. Some were cubes with smaller many leg like spikes on the floor facing sections. There a even smaller one that was being worn like a hat, a triangle based pyrmind. It had the top corner opened with eight micro-cameras of LED specks. If these creatures retracted to there basic body, tucking away limbs, they would resemble dice used for such role-playing games.

"Report: lady of Pain² has set off proximity of 102. Detection of state, Yellow alert. Protocol 91."

The machines connected themselves into one mass, compartment pannels pulled and snapped with other machines. The alley shirnks back, no longer stretching the width. Mostly flexing walls of the alley to how it was before the machines arrived.

Light dims with a low drumming and a odd hum. The audio feedback cringes the living, covering up the whirls of a sticking treadmill. A even more cringing is how it allows a chain to scrap the floor.

The group pulled closer at the instructions of the two hunters, shielding at all side. Looking for any attack, the little horned fella jitters afraid of facing this lady of pain. A universe mysterious figure whom rules absolute over Sigil. All fights with her are as the system warned them.

"Come on out of the dark." The inking mass sputters a mass across a empty wall, a limb directing the way, "Find this lands sunlight." Quivered as they maybe, they are not going to put thier hosts chooses into question. The whole team regimented in a line of parts. Thier best fighters in the front and back.

'Experience accumulated, congratulations on surviving the machines of lum and the presence of the Empress.' The notification was for everyone but the inking mass, 'You are marked. You have earned temporary title, Watched by the edges of reality.' The system alerts further with, 'by popular vote - you are labeled -God fears prey- .'

"God fears prey?"

"Watched by what? There isn't anything or anyone outside of reality. " They look around confused to each other. Some took out guideline books. The hunters came to some personal conclusions, choosing to not share this information to the rest. This set had also a scared look behind the back of the spector host guiding them around, aware of what that title means.

"Stop giving them a reason to be paranoid. I need them to act indifferent to whatever happens." The eyes study an empty area, a clawed hand posed over a invisible surface. Hovered in mind debat of it would be a smart or not.

The pairs walking along softly spoken, each thier own theory for what all those notifications had mean to them and those around. Some asked about what this place is and the history, it would seem the temporarily contracts with Hunters has been a very wise idea.

'Request examining...' The pannel for him was soild and had to be flicked out of his sight, whipped by ink drip connected spaltter, 'Request neutral.' The panel pushed away.

"What is outside the edge of time space?" Sean asked gently to his partner, "I thought there was nothing out there. I mean literal sense. Not by the meanless definition." The mask snarls a little in thinkng about it.

"I have yet to work it out too. It following me around... no privacy." A wavered tone of discomfort, "Not even this far away from the edge. The technology or temporary law of this entity as acted with a sense of interaction law. A bodiless observer, maybe." It snarls a little more, "Translating my language when not necessary. It has not done anything more then that... so far."

The architecture of most buildings warped and changed, as those doors suited which realms they came from. Where light could not reach was considered to be the damned gateways to places throughout the universe. The doors of light or in light are the typical doors any adventures would have problems opening. The easier the way was to open, the more harm then good exists in the realm on the other side. Things whom were using sigil too, choose to avoid. From time to time, the host is stopped and a very broken dialect was used.

"Which God's were you visiting? Are they expecting your arrival?" It finally asking the purpose of their journey. The annoyance that this wasn't asked sooner has put a bad mood of some and distrust with the two demon hunters.

"It was by Zeus himself. He throw down his lightning, leaving us a scorched message." A fragement of the unstable form of itself was torn off. A glop of stickiness altered into a soild book, of this it studies. The mask face twitchs and snarls. This book slapped into a inky drips of liquid, following a uncomfortable throat gurgling.

"This here... I recognize this door." The group studies this building. The once splendor of Greek Temple, had no roof. What were classical Greek frescos were smashed. Ordrements of leaders, the defeated monsters of mythical status and very long list of Zeuses lovers... chipped marble and dust. The heavenly door is at last screw in a eight busted hinges.

"We had a timeline clash." The host frowns with busting out tools. Getting the doorway through to stop collapsing, "I can sense a trapped Ender here... so its side effects have infected this timeline too." It does take time for the door to become stable and safe for them to walk.

In the meantime, folks took tour to a safe realm and were able to practice safe system educate. For example, not asking the systems something beyond your own potential. The demons demonstrates how there is subclasses of the same elements, not just by form but by how it affects around. Holy fire the caused damage to the demons finger tip then it showing the healing affect of hell fire.

The god followers were best with what elements thier gods blessed them with and at the basics of mage casting. The feeling of overcasting magic is still the same but how quickly that is recovered and replenished is not. The energy of other worlds has caused a faster recovery of spell use.

The more at grasp of experience of elements, the more raw this magic was. Young Mark had played around with this, his mind making sense of the various aspects and how elements help or hinder each other.

"Very well done on getting to grap of the system laws. The administrator will be pleased with such precautions." The group had made thier hearts skip with hearing thier host. It shape is of a different young man to young Mark, the very ground he walks on turned into decay and ashes, "About time you lot focused on you journey. You can't make games of the trial. Olympus is not a push over. Since the lift platform up is broken, you have to climb the mountain."

They see how there system conversion had made a sort of transparent map at the bottom left of their vision, it included all past history of these souls coming here before. No long was it a blank slate system for them. The god followers have history of climbing Olympus before. This same system had also recognized thier god follower status and changed stat attributes accordingly. Preist cleric classing then mage wizard one. Young Mark had his cursed recognized, allowing shape-shift into a damned as a skill. This was all thanks to them playing with the systems allowance of laws and rebooting recognition software by the host.

'Quest - journey up Olympus. Reward category table 2. Wandering monsters table class 19, all encounters.' The panel shattered into dust as it was typing out the next dialogue line. The window altered colors and the text was dripping. 'The administrator is no longer present.'

"No longer present. I am not a idiot." The flex of metal pours and bends as it rings out this commentary of listed things wrong here.

"Hal, will you please go back to the world you are programed for." The inky mass pushing the bending metal sculpture back into itself.

"I can't do that, Da-" the buzz of a speaker is punched through with the static fuzzing. The host ripping out the book from its flesh once more, inspecting the issue.

"Space odyssey in my Greek realm. What fan fiction is this? Such a mess, these worlds are strictly meant to be religious or organic origins that humanity chooses to make sense of. Not a place where humanity can mess with." A claw hand pokes a few things on the pages and allows the pages to flicker about sorting out such discrepancy of soul imbalances.

"Hal? As in what exactly is Hal?"

"A artificial intelligence from a cult classic movie. Movies that have not reason to be bleeding through this corner of universe. This should be the..." the host pauses a while, and took out a dice with 20 sides. A green dice with blood red numbers, the most part clear expect the black core of the dice, "I wish to roll for investigation check." A rule in the must newer version of 5th edition Duegons and Dragons. Upon throwing the dice and it landing on a higher the average result.

'Upon seeking answers in a book that can consume many worlds, you intuition of worlds between no longer having stable structures was a good guess. As for the appearance of Hal, it supports this breakdown of veils.'

The being taking over is a Duegons master. Whom knows what they are or whom they are. But the sense of this DM had flickered a thought about what the orginal system said. About being 'watched by the edge of reality', this inference of a unknown watcher could be this. It is also fitting to why there is things not adding up, like the encounters not acting as they should and that the journey with Sigil has been... smooth.

"Request to use a teleportation."

'Roll luck.' That isn't a D&D state nor is it in the rules that James knows, 'use d100.'

"I would like to remind you of bardic inspiration." Trying to make sure the results not going to screw them over.

'still roll d100.' The 20 dice was picked up from the floor and was turned into two ten sided dice with the numbers suitable added. A dice of tens and the other of units, rattled together and thrown. The roll would have been a horrific result for a typical D&D. Its instead based by another role-playing game system and thus the result was the other extreme.

A circle was torn by creaks in the ground, the lift of eatheral hands snatches all of them. Dragging all into a void space, arms that travels a few to many doorways.

Throwing the entire group into a piled together in the middle of the circle of cracks in a temple of white marble greek faces.

All recovered, standing up and dusting. No broken limbs and none one died. A great relief, hummed from the eatheral fluster of gloop blackening inks. This was the destination the god followers wanted, getting to work on praising and listening to what manner of ridiculous requests god imposed on living subjects. The young Mark stays within arms reach of the ghostly host.

"Does anyone know of what Erebus's plan is when he gets whatever nonsense it is from killing his followers into the abyss?" Asked plainly and at not care at all with whom answered.

"My Erebus is in the abyss where yours is plagued in fear of this other." The inks snatched a sealed bottle from a alter of offerings. The bottle is soon smashed across the floor, releasing the another clothy torn figure. They two broken down into fast conflicted words and spoken in languages erased by time. At a given point, a guess maybe that the languages were of this time or space. Rather a immoral duty bound soul to another. The one sealed by glass before is whom bows and plead to the ever larger mass of the other. Swallowed whole by this ever more altering shapes of liquid flowing blacken stone dust blob.

"What is wrong with you?" the blend of metal pulled out of the mass and stood a silvery stick figure sculpture. A deep anger of a parent telling a child off is exactly was soon being played out. The mass had even shirnks to a toddlers mimic. The language at that annoying mistranslation of meanings that everyone else is pulling grim expressions.

"So we do have our own version of End." The two Zeuses were at mirroring pose of watching this. They also make small talk of comparing the figures. Athena studies the mortals of the group, ignoring or unable to notice the dead ones protecting those mortals. In her inability to guess where this presence of protective energy preventing the gods to act any curses, she was looking any excuse to make sure her Zeus cares for her. Inspecting if any female followers had any sparking eyes for her man. This sort of deep inspection by gods and goddesses is very common, as it is rare for the living to be here at all. A bunch of fragile things, in the claws of a worlds destroyer.

"It would seem like yours has experience and is a good egg. Not like our nut case." This Zeus unfolded his arms, "But I must ask them a few important things." The statue comes down the pedestal, ignores the little humans. A hand of large mass lowers at offer to up this being up. The metal stick man drags the toddler bundle of cloth up. The hand leveled to allow both god and stick man to share eye level. The shape of a toddler was poured into a sandy lift, snaking around the being of metal. The return shape of a clay staining mask perched at the side of the metal beaded head. Its expression was blank and listless.

"You have to many unimportant things the gabe about. We aren't they sort to answer questions. It's never been our place among the universe to answer questions. Its more that we are was guardians the edge of time and space. The last judgement to figure if your soul belongs within space time at all. That is at least my personal job. I don't know what my partner is and what they are for."

"You answer is enough for me. Your the syth of the final reaper. A title given by many other time streams, not by our own. You are the hands whom breaks and build when its ashes all that left."

"It were just ashes... it would have been easier." The mask spoke and the tilt was enough to float off the metal head, "When things are broken, its not a simple one. Its not because the universe itself. Outsider can break and bend things. Other times, the wounds of your own ender are far to fested for them to continue. This case, your time... a fragement of the tome you belong to is rip from the main book. You need to be returned to the orginal owner of the pages. The longer you are gone, to worse the fragments of ender connect to those pages become. For all you know, the timeline you came can have been... diced down to the last living soul. Fear of doing things wrong. A sadness that eats and allows mistakes."

"Thats very dark thought. Why would you consider that?" the morphic stick metal pulls the mask to face towards as part of this conversation. Stopping it from sneaking off.

"Because, if am the sanity of myself. What is keeping check of the insanity?" The ender whom belongs to that time is crawling from a dark spot on the floor. Once stood, the discomfort of looking at a sinner in the process of being tortured thanks to being covere in chains, nasty wounds. This person is softly spoken with a low monotone. The clay of grey pulled at those chains, snarls as it floats over them. The weaker ine being scrunched back to the floor void etched with a expression of fear.

"It be about time you are sent back to your orginal book." The ink tendrials from the back of the clay mask stretch a at great length and grow. A very torn cover is made by this cloth darkness, the clay face was pulled into the bindings and transparent pages flickered into existence, thundering and snapping. The perception veils that were distorted at the point of shatter, in allowing all to see many multilayered affect tint the same room on top of the changed aspects.

A horizon was soon growing back, covering up these layers. That of many book, idealistic forms of Olympus were overlapping. In each new veil drop, the clarity of what version this lot stood in was brought out. The glow of any light flicker, chasing away any thought of seeing other versions 0f the same place ever happened. Everyone looks around checking for anyone hurt or missing. Everyone is at stare of how two very mirror copies of the eatheral ghost is talking. The occasional word makes sense but its not worth anything without the context of conversation. The metal figure looks between both tilted unsure of which one is whom.

"Good luck finding what your looking for." A hand on a shoulder, "If I have to come fetch you out of the abyss one last time. Be glad to know that there are folks like me that will. To stretch that extra mile to help stand you up again."

"I will return the favor if I cross another in need. But of course." they both garbled a phrase. This being torn itself into a floating tome. That book soon snatched. Layers of reality a little peeled in the process but... stabilized and erased.

"Honestly I don't know what to say." Judge frowns.

"I think that goes a torn broken timeline tome. Off to continue its own time and repair itself." The hoodie of a teenage stood beside the slightly taller metal sculpture, "That also then fixed Erebus's issue too. It doesn't change that we have to fish out 15 people out of the abyss. I wonder what section of the abyss they went through." The tilt of the sculpture inspecting the teen, "Dont we need to walk the grey lands for something?"

"I..." the metal figure pulls this teen with inspecting the general style and attitude. A stuttering of complicated emotions and just not able to make words work.

"The human aspect is a good at reminding. I forgot someone needed a detour there. Save a person from adapting into the grey." the mask slapped itself to the teen, the force grinding the rubber soles of shoes the screeched along the smooth marble flooring.

"Will you be a little less annoying with this?" the teen complained, "I would like to point out that the watch that doesn't move normally, clicked by three seconds and reminded four seconds."

"If that was..." the mask posed a clothie form on top the hoodie. It digging comfortable to weave into the teens clothing, maybe skin too. It forced the arm around for it to look at all the watches latched along the left arm. The mask covered over the teens face, "Must have been a blood battle. This is what happens when you choose to make the meeting of different pantheons in a place where the dead awaken again."

"Time to make haste, you can't linger here." Hermis clapping the attention for all, "You lot don't want to become tainted yet."

'18 living humam minutes before forced mutation of adapting commence.' A startling message by the system, made the one following jump backwards, left hand hits the floor first, causing injury. The host picked them from the floor, does some sort of motions and the injury fixed itself. This was followed with the doors put are thrown open with the whipped lashes of tendrials. The last few bows, offerings and words.

'Welcome back to Sigil, taint counter is reset back to ##:##:##:##. Measures of time units isn't able to be converted to living human meaning. Host has placed restrictions, wards and alters life threads.' The two demons stare pale by this notification. The living brush it off as a sort of spell placement by the ghost host to keep them safe. The Damned are no where in sight. Young master Mark is in living form, looking back to the building they walked out of.

It to small for how massive the statues were inside. There was no light in there from the busted roof. The walls on the outside are scorned , are picture perfect inside. The inscriptions outside were sometimes not even recognized as Greek, Latin or anything suitable. Runic patterns that belongs somewhere else, have nothing to do with Roman or Greek Temples.

They walked on, having a few system surprise quests. Throwing items form the floor through doorways, closing some doors, unlocking some and others are bricked back up. Everyone pitched in the effort for shared experiences points or rewards of interesting trinkets. Everyone was at least level 4 or higher. More terms in a tab for languages was starting to build enough for a passive minor conversation with strangers could take place.

The world around them was for the most part very interesting to look at, but there isn't any time to stop to admire it. There was minor scuffs getting away from Sigil, as the colours was drained from every inch around.

'You are walking the grey zones. Don't touch anything or become one among the grey.' The faces of neutral adventures by the millions. Long endless pews of seats and empty dinner tables. No colour but greys. The longest sitting grey people were one with the world and were statue perfect. They more newer sets looked on at air or stare back to the walking group.

"And out of here you go, living sinner." A greying figure pulled off the pew seat. drag along, upon forcing them tk stand, it clear that this person has paint all over them then being tainted by adaptation. They angery complained about being moved off due to finally getting somewhere with some book research. They stop fighting as the mask on the face snarled which is nothing like the voice speaking to them back. The fool is passed to the floating metal pole, a pole that sharpened into a spear, stabbed all the way into them and back out without a mark to show. A low tone shared by three separate voices, and now dragging the painted fool with them.

"Wow," The paint slightly wipped off and the stranger studies the awkward discomfort of the other living following the ghost around, "Hey kid in the royal embroidery cloak." slips out of tendrials and walks beside Mark, "Whose... ugh. no... how many generations had it been living on the mage island?"

"I dont know." The kid plays doubt.

"He is one of your great grandson's. It's not that wide a generation gap as you assume. The mage island has a warpped disconnect of time when compared to living within a major other country." The mask was at the back of the head watching them, "The exploration team regimented is loosing their minds about loosing you within the oaths. They say it like loosing a gear of the universe itself. I say nonsense."

"Its rare that you ever claim something not totally of humanity doing to be nonsense." The human aspect muttered.

"Wow... and what about you?" The smile was uncomfortable with a drilling stare into the human sides back, "Your a living human."

"He is a time compilation I needed. I blame souls being bend on doing time over... again." There is a frown by the paint covered explorer.

"So the story of the three brothers is true?" Mark asked.

"I escape fate of dying from falling off a cliff in order to qualify as a living adapted. I am now a lost wanderer, and in the time I been like this. I wrote my discoveries and understood that some laws aren't breakable by human means. I have up my heart to let my brothers be safe from the issue about the lands we claim as home. I heard it was to late for one and the other has sorted it out before he died." The smile was getting inhumanly wider as the longer he spoke. A tendril would soon slap them across the face, wipping that smile off their face.

"That distortion will fix itself when we can smooth out enough wrinkles from the fabric. The cloth that woven, made and threaded by all life and the gods in charge of keeping it clean. There been several complications making this harder for them. Including the path development of ender title inherentance of a becoming a multiverse keeper. Not being easy since i haven't even make head way of speaking to the other timelines of this change. There is some of them whom are lacking any sense of what defined humanity in the first place." The mask snarls into a long mistranslation of languages of other compilations that needed to be addressed and how it matters to some souls. It then had changed subject in chatter to the souls of everyone directly and was completely ignoring any mind or heart mattered questions.

"It doesn't talk to you anymore after a point. It more talking at your soul and prying information about werid things." The human aspect pulls a door back to sigil and directed them, "It maybe a discomfortable feeling but it makes you feel better later. That is unless you soul has a disturbing desire. A lot of mages are like that, but its not everyone."

"So whom are you if we ignore the mask that been around since the beginning of time." The explorer out with a book.

"Dont you dare tell them. I will rip your soul out if you dare." The stick threatened.

"Not that I think that works anymore... I wasn't." James counts the group as they got back in the doorway, "For a the joke of it. I would like to call myself a timelord. not that I have anything to do with time or hold any title of Lord." The kid see this makes them all very confused, "I do sometimes forget that you folks don't watch TV or bother with any sort of entertainment franchise." This was written with a question mark in the explorer notebook, "Whatever... it doesn't matter. Even if Gallifrey exists or not. Not that I should have any favorites, I could never choose between Mat or David." The group shurgs between each other, "Just no Whovains here to joke with."

"Youre just a weird as the idiot attached to you." The floating metal morphs into stick man and it walking itself once more.

"I just miss the comforts of enjoying evening family gathering for cool shows like Last Kingdom, Merlin or Doctor Who. Getting hype for the new video games and posting tv theories online on social platforms. I even miss having a reddit account to post horror short stories with." The metal punched them into the gut, the stood feeling that for a while on silent.

"Stop talking nonsense in a language everyone understands."

"It wouldn't be when were done ironing wrinkles in time fabric." The mask came off and pulled the human straight.

"That sounds stupid but it would work. You are a brilliant mind." It dislocated a jaw and flexed it when speaking, the excitement of some to simple as a solution to its problems, "How do you iron wrinkles out of fabric? I must learn this." a gurgling purr deep in it was fearful enough. The stick plucked the mask off the cloth and throw it to a wall. The wall is dented by the impact, the mask unscaved in the slightest.

"3." It casts a runic magic to mould the stone work smooth, "I thought I would stop counting but no... I seem to cope by counting." It matters softly.

"Abyss fetching dead folks." They group aren't happy with thier journey at all. Maybe it been smooth walking compared to how they should have gone. Its this broken being that are having to sell thier souls to temporarily in order to beyond worlds travel with that making it worse. The longer with this nut case they are the more of their sanity they seem to be loosing.

"You are taking them home first." The stick metal sculpture argued salvation to those to afraid to speak thier wishes. At least is the one thing this host does listen to more and clings morals with. Its great that the stick as more moral sense then the mask. The human stuck between must be a victim whom fell to far. Its the only sort of sense this explorer can come up with in the limitations.

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1 Sigil, also known as the Cage, the City of Doors, and the City of Secrets. It is considered a floating city in the center of the outlands and the self-proclaimed center of the multiverse in the great wheel cosmology. A major hub for interplanar travel, the city contained multiple portals to every single plane. (According to 2nd edition Duegons and Dragons lore. This information was mostly from asking players and thier directions to the Fandom wiki. They say take it with a pinch of salt, yikes.)

2. Lady of pain, there is a few D&D scenarios that allow players to cross sigil. Most trips are 'simple' (thanks to Duegon masters) unless you face her. She is considered a power above gods and has absolutely rule of Sigil. All encounters so far have been instant death, unless you are above particular levels or access for high magic in D&D (Don't quote me, just rumour. Corrections are appropriate.)