Art and Curio Galleria
Location: Sigil / Clerks’ Ward
If you’ve got a penchant for the bizarre and the beautiful, I suggest you wander on over to the Art and Curio Galleria in the Clerks’ Ward. This isn’t some kind of museum filled with dusty relics and the usual prattle of lectures. No, this place is alive with magic, mystery—and the distinct chance of a mishap that could leave you scarred—mentally or physically. Yvana, the curator and heart of the Galleria, presides over her collection like a proud mother sphinx, always eager to regale a visitor with tales of the art’s creation, history, or the occasional grisly story of an unfortunate patron who got too curious. She has a voice like fine silk, and a smile that’s equal parts inviting and unnerving.
The Galleria itself is a grand, labyrinthine structure, with arches carved from polished alabaster decorated with the faces of angels and demons whose eyes seem to follow you as you pass. Light streams through enormous stained-glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the marble floors. It’s strangely serene, with a sense that time has slowed down just enough for you to truly absorb the sights—and possibly lose yourself in them. Given Sigil’s weather patterns rarely permit bright sunlight, I suspect there’s magic involved here.
You’ll find clusters of sculptures scattered throughout the halls, each displayed with a tasteful arrangement of incense burners and flickering, arcane lanterns. There’s a faint scent of cedarwood and the turpentine of paint. Paintings line the walls, and some say if you stare too long, the scenes within start to shift. Some of the paintings have auditory components, and others emit scents designed to enhance the viewing experience.
Sculptures of Note
Arcadian Stained-Glass Window: Suspended in midair, this “window” is a prism of divine colours. Each panel shows neatly symmetrical scenes of Arcadian landscapes, and chant goes that if you meditate for long enough before it, you might glimpse your perfect future. For me it was just a headache-inducing light show.
Cleansing Horn of Acheron: A jagged, bronze horn that’s rumoured to have been used in the Goblin Purges of Acheron. When the light hits it just right, you can almost hear the battle cries in the distance. Do not blow this horn, unless you fancy the Harmonium arriving in full force.
Dark Birds of Ocanthus: These razor-sharp ice sculptures resemble flocks of shadowy birds mid-flight, their wings made from shards gathered from the layer of Ocanthus. Yvana likes to warn guests that the birds “bite” if you get too close, but it’s more of a slice and dice situation; these shards are sharp as vorpal weapons. Adventurers have been known to try and steal individual shards, but only a fool would attempt it unprepared.
The Ruby Statue: A humanoid figure carved from a huge blood-red ruby, which radiates a sense of quiet dread. Some cutters swear they can hear a heartbeat when they get close.
The Kyton’s Animate Chain: A twisted iron chain suspended by unseen forces, forever writhing like a possessed snake. Chant goes it was once owned by a particularly sadistic kyton, and that it will lash out at anyone who shows too much interest. But admire it from a safe distance, and you’ll be just fine. Probably.
Gangroighydon: This grotesque statue of a sorcerer mid-spell is a highlight for thrill-seekers. Yvana keeps a close eye on anyone lingering near it, for good reason: it’s no statue, it’s the petrified body of a real person. I guess he was a berk who really piked Yvana off.
Paintings that Capture the Imagination
Karasuthran Shoreline: A perpetual night-time seascape of the Beastlands layer of Karasuthra with blacks and greys so vivid you’d swear you could smell the salt and feel the breeze. Don’t get too lost in the waves, though—some visitors claim to have felt imaginary seaweed tendrils dragging them away from the shore.
Hazazoth at the Consumption of N’gar: A twisted scene of a tanar’ri banquet in the Deep Abyss, where Hazazoth feasts upon a bound baatezu. The paint itself seems to boil under Yvana’s careful enchantments, and it’s best not to look too long unless you want nightmares.
The Folly of Udo: A comedic piece of a wizard so deep in his spellbook he’s set his own robes aflame. A favourite of visitors, this painting never fails to elicit a chuckle, and occasionally, a puff of smoke from Udo’s perpetually burning cloak.
The Gray Hag of Oinos: A haunting portrait of a crone with eyes as pale as death. There’s something about this one that lingers in your mind, and if you’re sensitive to memory magic, you’d best be cautious.
Wave Motion Study #7: A purely abstract study of water in motion. Waves curl and crash, painted with such precision that they seem to ripple. Artists and mages often stand transfixed, lost in contemplation.
Yvana: The Enigmatic Curator
Yvana is a striking woman of middle years, with hair the colour of stormclouds and eyes that seem to pierce right through you, even from behind. She speaks with the calm confidence of someone who has lived several lifetimes, and she’s happy to share the stories behind each piece—for a price, of course. Mention her estranged daughter Yves, and you’ll see a flicker of sadness cross her face, but don’t press her unless you want to feel a chill run down your spine. Yvana knows far more about curses, magic, and secrets of the Cage’s art community than she lets on.
Canonical Source: Planescape: Torment game
Source: Jon Winter-Holt
