“Cross my Palm with Silver, Blood?…
…I’ll tell you what’s in store.” It’s a common enough phrase in the markets of many burgs, but in Sigil, the City of Doors, it holds a more powerful meaning. The Cage ain’t just any old city see, it’s the frontier town of all the planes at once. It’s a magical place where lifelines collide and fortunes are won and lost.
Once they’ve lost the star-gazy look in their eyes, even the most Clueless of sods realise this. So, when a withered old crone in the Bazaar offers to tell them their fortune for the price of a bowl of soup, it’s not an offer many Primes refuse. Perhaps they should do…
