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For a true planar, the planes means the Outer Planes, the Great Ring. No other place has the same richness or the same tingle of power as any one of the Outer Planes. A true planar instinctively knows when he's on an Outer Plane the smell of it is in his blood.
Primes have different names for the planes, which comes from their own
peculiar understanding of the multiverse - names like the Twin Paradises,
the Nine Hells, the Seven Heavens, Tarterus, Olympus, Asgard, Hades, and
Nirvana. Don't be thrown by them. Also, try not to laugh at the sods when
they use these tags; it's almost certain they would've gotten the names
right if they'd bothered to ask folks who know better.
While it seems that the seventeen Outer Planes have little in common, that's only because most planars take for granted what they do have in common. First, a cutter can walk and breathe on most of the Outer Planes without spells, magical devices, or other protections that's a big change from the Inner Planes. Second, most all places have a clear up and down: Down's the earth under a basher's feet and up's the sky overhead. Third, most planes got a north and south. It ain't the same from plane to plane, or even from layer to layer, but it's still useful for getting around.
A prime shouldn't kid himself, though - the Outer Planes are different
from any weak prime-material imitation. Compared to the Prime,
everything's greater here Mountains are loftier, glaciers colder, deserts
hotter, and even the colors havean extra hue. Nothing on any prime-material world can ever quite match its counterpart on the Outer Planes. After
all, what's a basher supposed to expect in the homes of the gods?
Another important thing that many of the Clueless don't realize is that a plane's not just a single place. It's got divisions and areas within it, and things can change from area to area. Planes are made up of layers, different worlds that all fall within the plane. Generally, each layer falls under the sway of a different power or group of powers, which accounts for often stark differences in appearance.
In some places, like the Abyss, the layers stack up like a messy deck of cards, mostly on top of each other, with an occasional layer that sticks out where it shouldn't. On Baator, the nine layers form the tiers of a descending cone, perfectly regular to each other. Other layers are joined by rivers, bridges, or - most fantastic of all - great clockwork gears.
Within a plane, and even within a layer, there can be a lot of different realms. A realm is an area ruled by a power or group of powers, who fashion the land to suit their desires. A pantheon of powers that calls itself "Greek" (after some favorite prime-material kip) has a realm called Olympus on Arborea. It's a place of great stone temples, rocky mountains, olive groves, and warm sunny coasts, where heroes fight monsters and philosophers debate. The same plane also holds the realm of Arvandor, home of the elf gods. Their realm is one of ancient woods, flowering meadows, rippling brooks, and crystal palaces. Here, bards sing and nobles partake of the hunt.
Each realm can modify the physical laws of the land. Gravity, weather,
and even directions are subject to the control of the local powers. Hence,
it's usually easy for a cutter to tell when he's entered a new realm.
There's a shift in the landscape, one that matches the ideals of the new
rulers, that's noticeable to all but the most addle-coved travelers.
Just being on the Outer Planes doesn't make getting around easy. There's still vast distances to be covered and mystical barriers to be crossed. It helps for a fellow to know the ways and means of quickly getting from place to place, unless he wants to spend a lifetime just crossing from one portal to the next on the Great Road.
First, a cutter can always use the Astral Plane in pretty much the same way a prime uses it to reach the Outer Planes. Through spells or magical items, a blood can step into the Astral and then will himself to his destination. It takes power and practice, but it can be done. The astral method's not perfect, though. The Astral only touches the uppermost layer of each plane on the Great Ring. If a fellow wants to go to Mount Celestia, for instance, he can only get to the first layer this way. He's got to find another way to reach the seventh layer (or the second, for that matter).
Fortunately, other, more efficient means of getting around exist. There's conduits, just like those that thread the Astral Plane, which link different layers of a plane. These conduits can even link different layers of different planes. It's said there's a conduit on the 492nd layer of the Abyss that'll carry a being to the first layer of Ysgard, which just might make for a handy escape someday. These conduits can be either young (one-way) or mature (two-way). Most conduits are pretty stable, and maps to many of them can be bought in Sigil. 'Course, fakes are available for purchase, too. The biggest problem with conduits is they don't always take a body where he wants to go. Step through a conduit and a berk may still have long distances to travel.
Every plane's got regular paths between the layers, too. On Baator, a sod can pass through the gates of the city of Dis and end up in the bog of Minauros, the next layer down. On Elysium, a body can sail down the River Oceanus to reach the next layer. To use these, a being's just got to know the dark of them. They're not as quick as conduits, but their dependability makes them regular trade routes. These roads are also used for formal occasions, like when one power goes calling on another. It's the polite thing to do.
Finally, there's Sigil's portals. Just like the portals to the Prime
Material and Inner Planes, Sigil's got doorways to more places on the
Outer Planes than can be mapped in a millennium. For most planars, or at
least those that can get to Sigil, the portals are the preferred way to
travel. Odds are good for finding a door at least somewhat close to where
a cutter wants to go - if he's willing to search the streets long enough.
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Because of the nature of the planes, conjuration/summoning spells can only draw upon creatures and things from the same or an adjacent plane. For example, a wizard using a monster summoning III spell while on Elysium could call up something native to the planes of Elysium, the Beastlands, Bytopia, the Outlands, or the Astral.
Elementals summoned on the Outer Planes aren't the same thing as those creatures that appear on the Inner Planes and the Prime Material. Since the Inner Planes are pretty well cut off from the Outer ones, spells that call upon an elemental creature actually create one from the elements of the plane where the spell is cast. That means these monsters are going to act a bit differently from the real thing. First, the elemental adopts the alignment of the plane where it's created. It'll refuse to do anything that would contradict that alignment. This also means that elementals created on the Lower Planes have a little of the deviousness that other natives possess, so a spellcaster better watch out for tricks, misinterpreted instructions, and outright treachery. Finally, the chance for an elemental to break the caster's control over it increases by 5% for every plane between the monster's and the caster's (as determined by faction plane of influence) - the system is the same as that for priests casting spells. Luckily for primes, that last problem doesn't affect them.
Healing and necromantic spells cast in the Outer Planes have absolutely no effect on petitioners. Petitioners can only be raised by calling their spirits back to the Prime Material, at which point they're no longer petitioners. When a petitioner dies on the Outer Planes, he or she's gone for good.
As noted on Table II: School Alterations by Plane, some schools of magic are affected by the nature of some planes in a specific way. Most times, this will fall into one of four categories: ENHANCED, DIMINISHED, NULL, or ALTERED. The DM should always check that table before allowing a spell to go off.
If Table II indicates that the school is ENHANCED, then all spells operate as if they had been cast by a wizard one level higher. For example, a fireball spell cast by a 5th-level mage will inflict 6d6 points of damage.
If Table II indicates that the school is DIMINISHED, then all spells operate as if they had been cast by a wizard one level lower. In the example above, the fireball would inflict only 4d6 points of damage.
If Table II indicates that the school is NULL, then the nature of the plane is such that spells of that school fail when cast and are subsequently lost from the wizard's memory.
If Table II indicates that the school is ALTERED, then the spell may need help to work, or its effects may be changed. For example, spells that have ethereal pathways need spell keys.
In the descriptions of the planes presented on the following pages, any
peculiar spell effects will be noted under
"Special Magic Conditions. "
A minor hazard to planar characters, but a hazard nonetheless, is the occasional spell crystal. These things aren't useful items to adventurers, but are the handiwork of prime-material wizards.
What happens when a wizard summons something from the Outer Planes or communes with a planar being? He doesn't realize it, but the force of his magic creates a whizzing, glowing crystal on the target plane. This crystal shoots across the plane, unerringly searching for the object of its master's spell. Upon reaching its goal, the crystal swoops in and touches the target, releasing its magical energy. If it's a summoning, the target vanishes, instantly drawn to the Prime Material Plane through a magical, temporary vortex. Commune and divination crystals release a flood of insistent imagery that clamors for an answer. The effect depends on the spell cast.
Spell crystals come in a variety of colors and shapes, although all are crystals of some sort. Neither is an indication of the spell carried. However, creatures that have a Wisdom score of 19 or higher can instinctively know the nature of a spell crystal by making a successful Wisdom check (-5 modifier to the ability score).
Wise planars carefully avoid spell crystals. No one wants to be blipped
off to some strange prime-material world without preparation or warning,
as the chance is too great to take. A few intrepid souls have managed to
capture spell crystals; these imprisoned magicks command good prices as
curiosities. It's also possible to trap them and use the crystals as
weapons by releasing them on enemies. This technique is dangerous not only
while catching the crystal, but also because there's no promising who its
target will be once a spell crystal is released.
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Passage through portals, conduits, color pools, and vortices is nearly instantaneous, allowing a cutter to slip through infinite spaces as quickly as a child's wish reaches a star. These planar gates, once found, connect the entire multiverse - a paradoxically simple and complex system.
There are a few other paths between planes and layers, and these are
unique. The River Oceanus, the River Styx, Yggdrasil, and Mount Olympus
are not instantaneous portals, and there are many opportunities for
extended adventures along their trails. A basher might even happen upon a
door to Sigil or somewhere else along the way. These paths are legendary,
and any blood who's been outside the City of Doors has used them.
Rising on the plane of Elysium is a great river, broad in its banks, whose waters flow smoothly across the upper realms. Its surface is calm, barely marred by ripples, and its depths are deeper than any line can fathom. The water isn't dangerous, but sweet - indeed fragrant - to those who stand on its shores. Its surface is calm, yet it has its share of dangerous currents and creatures in the depths below. This is the River Oceanus.
Like its sister the Styx, the Oceanus is a worldspanning river, a waterway between realms, layers, and planes. Its headwaters lie in Thalasia, on the plane of Elysium. From there it flows through all of Elysium's layers and eventually breaks through the boundary between the planes, passing through the top layer of the Beastlands. After this, it crosses another boundary and enters Arborea, passes through the first layer, and finally disappears somewhere in that plane's second layer, Ossa.
Although Oceanus looks like a normal river, it's far from that. In some places the river is, but in other places it isn't. It flows in and out of existence without once breaking its continuous flow, defying the logic of connection. A ship might sail through one plane or layer for an hour or a week (depending upon the DM's plans). Passage through the barriers can be arduous or instantaneous. Sometimes, a body just slips from one plane to the next while he wasn't looking.
Oceanus is a commonly used path between planes and the layers of planes.
Trading vessels sail up and down its length, and small towns line its
banks. Travelers can usually find a boat to hire somewhere along its
shores.
No one knows where it rises and no one knows where it ends, but all the Lower Planes know the River Styx. This wine-dark, rank river bubbles and churns through the top layers of Acheron, Baator, Gehenna, the Gray Waste, Carceri, the Abyss, and Pandemonium. Side channels of this odious river reach to other layers of these planes - the fifth level of Baator and some of the unnumbered layers of the Abyss in particular. The flow isn't linear or predictable, either. On one journey, a boatman goes from Baator straight to the Abyss; on the return, the river shifts its banks and carries the cutter from the Abyss to the furnaces of Carceri. The flow is unmeasured and unmapped.
Where the Oceanus is sweet, the Styx is foul. Its water is black, putrid, and greasy, yet still a temptation to those suffering from thirst on these planes. One taste or touch of its water and a being must successfully save vs. spell or suffer total amnesia of his past life, including class, alignment, and spells. Even those who do save forget the events of the past day. Beneath its sluggish surface, the currents of the Styx are swift and dangerous, often sucking down boats or pulling swimmers under.
Still, the Styx is useful for travel from plane to plane. A journey to
any point on its banks never takes more than a day (although it might be a
dangerous day). Horrid and fantastic boatmen called marraenoloths ply its
waters, their skills supernaturally competent. All of them are willing to
carry passengers - for the right price.
One magnificent feature of the planes is the great tree Yggdrasil, the World Ash. Rising on the first layer of Ysgard, Yggdrasil's roots and branches extend into many other planes, providing yet another way for travelers to get around. No one has mapped the extent of these pathways, but some of the important paths are known. One of the roots reaches to Niflheim on the Gray Waste, and another stretches to Pandemonium, where Loki (of the Norse pantheon) resides. The branches are no less widespread, even crossing the silvery void of the Astral Plane to reach the very Prime Material. There, it's said, the smallest branch tips touch hundreds of worlds where the Norse gods are revered or remembered. Other branches reach Elysium, the Beastlands, and Limbo, and there are likely to be many more such pathways.
Traveling Yggdrasil's paths requires the traveler to climb through the
branches or roots. At each planar crossing, the tree disappears through a
portal of shimmering color, like a color pool found on the Astral. Only
the vaguest of shapes can be seen through the window. To know for certain
what lies on the other side, a traveler must step through. The colored
portals are all two-way passages.
Like Yggdrasil, Mount Olympus is a pathway to many other planes. Rising from the plane of Arborea, Mount Olympus has veins that reach into the planes of Gehenna, the Gray Waste, and Carceri. These planes are reached by twisting caverns that pierce Olympus's stone. On its slopes, a cutter can climb through the Astral Plane and into a number of prime-material worlds - worlds where Zeus and the fellows of his pantheon aren't forgotten. Unlike Yggdrasil, Olympus has no connections to any of the other Upper Planes, and its links to the rest of the Outer Planes are well mapped.
When crossing into another plane via Mount Olympus, the traveler must
find a color portal like those found on Yggdrasil. Beneath the mountain,
the right cavern must be taken, since there are many false trails and dead
ends. On the slopes, the traveler must search through rocks and woods for
the shimmering curtains that mark doorways to other planes.
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Here's the real chant: Maybe - just maybe - one blood out of ten thousand's actually even seen one of the powers, particularly one of the greater powers. Then, of them that's seen one, maybe one out of a hundred's actually done anything for or against the greater powers. And of those few berks, maybe one out of ten actually survived. And finally, maybe one, just one of those actually did give a power the laugh. He'll be the sod with the look of a chased rabbit in his eyes, though, and it's a sure bet he's never leaving the safety of Sigil again.
The dark is that powers just don't go and parley with most normal folks, probably because they don't want to take such a direct hand in the multiverse, as it would inevitably lead to a like response from other powers. Good and evil, lawful and chaotic, the powers made the multiverse, and they know that direct confrontation is the quickest way to wreck the whole show. Maybe they went that route once, in time before their own measuring, and found that no one could win that game. Oh, they still meddle with each other's followers, try to subvert realms, and generally work behind the scenes, but getting directly involved can bring down the combined wrath of a lot of fellow powers. All of them remember what happened to the last deity that tried it - Yavass, Lord of Tyrants. His moldering body drifts in the Astral Plane as a mutual warning to all the powers.
Because of this hands-off policy, powers make proxies, servants to carry out their will. It's all part of' the game. A power may not be able to act directly, but it can send its proxies to do things instead. 'Course, even then there's limits. It usually doesn't take much to figure out which power sent a host of proxies to bash down a front door, and once the insulted power knows, it's a matter of revenge. So even with proxies, a power's got to be subtle. There are RARE times when a power might recruit a mortal agent, even a player character.
So, maybe a berk thinks powers do deal with mortals, but it ain't that clear. Fact is, mortals are a lousy lot at keeping anything dark, so the powers don't trust them with the truth all that often. Instead, most powers try to trick mortals, get them to help without ever realizing it, and even this kind of trick is extremely uncommon. Rarer still does any power actually reveal itself to a mortal. Those chosen for such a revelation are paragons of whatever the power esteems. One is chosen for righteous beliefs, another for trustworthiness, and a third for masterful duplicity. Some poor sods go barmy, exposed to the radiance of their. lords. Most die carrying out their quests. Others are cheated of their reward - whatever it is, it's usually not a winning offer.
There are a few madmen in Sigil who claim to have either personally called upon the powers or to have killed one. These are lies. The powers cannot be visited and chatted with. Any mortal who meets a power does so because the power chooses. Sure, a berk can see the temples of Olympus and even walk inside some of them, but that doesn't mean Zeus is opening the door. The powers are unreachable, berk.
Nobody (except a lot of combined other powers) ever kills a power. After all, they're immortals, tied to the essence of their planes. There might be some slim chance of destroying a power's body, but even that. wouldn't kill it. In time, the god would reappear with all its powers and memories - particularly of who.ever caused it harm. Face it, the chance of getting that far against a power is unimaginable. Powers are just what the name says - powerful. Within their own realms, they are the law of the universe. They can strike with a thought, or without any thought at all. No mortal has ever reached a deity's status and none ever will, for in attaining it a being is no longer mortal.
That's the true strength of the powers.
Unfortunately, this don't hold true for the powers of the Lower Planes - fiends and the like. They don't care about some "imaginary" balance or who gets hurt. They just want the whole birdcage and they'll do what they must to get it. Gods help the sod who gets in their way.
It's a good thing, then, that Sigil's got the Lady of Pain. Don't be so barmy thinking she's just a symbol. She's real and she didn't get her name or looks for nothing. The Lady of Pain's about power - the power to block the doors of Sigil to all deities. She's the protector of the whole Cage, the one being that keeps Sigil safe.
The Lady of Pain's real, but nobody ever talks to her. Nobody. Many who've seen her floating through the streets wind up in the Hive with all the rest of the barmies. She's not kind or caring, and a berk can't expect mercy from her. On a whim she'll aid, but more often she kills, and yet it's to her the city looks for protection. The Guvners think she created Sigil, while the Ciphers wonder if it's all her dream.
'Course, just because the Lady of Pain's blocked the doors doesn't mean
the fiends quit trying to get in. She's got to remain strong to keep them
out, and if they can weaken her, the seals will fall - and all Pandemonium
will break loose. Maybe the fiend lords can't enter Sigil, but their
agents, proxies, and sympathizers are there. Those berks are searching for
the key, the way to bring down the Lady of Pain.
Nobody even knows what the exact goals of the war are. Genocide's the best guess - the tanar'ri and baatezu'll fight each other until there's none left. Why? What berk understands a fiend's mind, can figure out its depraved depths? Maybe the local powers are playing games and making them fight. Maybe they fight just because they want to. Nobody knows for sure how the war started, but a lot of folks figure the Lady of Pain had something to do with it. Some barmy philosophers claim that she's one of them, a fiend now turned stag against all her own kind. Maybe it's true, and maybe it ain't.
The only thing known for sure is that the Blood War's a grim blessing to
Sigil. Every move on Sigil by one force triggers a reaction from the other
side, since both groups are desperately afraid of the other controlling
such power. Sure, it makes traveling the Lower Planes dangerous -
especially the battlefields of Gehenna and Carceri - but it keeps the
fiends busy.
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A DM Guide to the Planes