The Charnel Spa
Location: Sigil / Lady’s Ward
Recorded on behalf of Brix by Sanguis Gravegood, Dhampir Planewalker

I’ll admit, when I first heard about the Charnel Spa, I thought it was a joke. A spa for the undead? What’s next, a tanning salon for vampires? But curiosity—or maybe plain boredom—got the better of me. That’s how I found myself standing in front of a building that looked like it had been cobbled together from leftovers at the necropolis: Blackened bone columns, obsidian arches, and glowing green lanterns that whispered faintly. The air smelled like embalming fluid and burnt sage. Charming. Still, I figured if Sigil was weird enough to tolerate someone like me—a dhampir stuck somewhere between life and death—then maybe this place could offer something useful. Or at least something droll.
Inside, the vibe was… well, let’s call it “necromantic chic.” The lighting was dim, provided by floating ghost-lanterns that bobbed around impatiently. The receptionist—a spectre with ghostly robes so pristine they made me feel underdressed—greeted me in a voice that sounded like a tombstone being dragged across gravel: “Welcome to the Charnel Spa, where we rejuvenate what remains.” I almost laughed out loud. Rejuvenate? What did they think I was, a corpse having a mid-death crisis? But as I looked around at the clientele—a lich lounging on a fainting couch, vampires sipping something thick and dark from crystal goblets—I realised something strange: no one was staring at me. No disgusted glances, no whispers about my half-undead nature. For once, I wasn’t the freak in the room.
The first treatment was something called the Bone Recalibration Chamber. Sounds fancy, right? It turned out to be an obsidian slab where spectral hands poked and prodded at my skeleton like they were tuning a harp. At first, I braced myself for pain—because let’s face it, nothing good ever comes easy—but instead, it felt… soothing. Cold and strange, sure, but soothing. The attendant—a banshee whose voice echoed plaintively—murmured something about years of tension in my joints. “No kidding,” I muttered back. “Try being half-alive for a century and see how your posture holds up.” Still, by the time they were done, I felt lighter somehow, like they’d scraped away years of wear and tear.

Then came the Soul Infusion Pool, which were basically giant cauldrons filled with glowing ectoplasmic goo. “Relax,” the banshee said as she ushered me in. Relax? In gelatinous soup? Sure, why not. But as I sank into the viscous warmth, something unexpected happened: Memories started bubbling. Little flashes of my previous life—things I hadn’t thought about in decades. A laugh shared with my mother before everything went wrong. The way sunlight felt on my skin before I became… this. It hit me hard enough to make me blink back tears (not that anyone would notice in this place). Around me, other patrons soaked in silence or murmured softly to each other—a ghast hissed at some morbid joke nearby as her body was washed clean of that awful stench—and for once, I didn’t feel out of place.
When it was time to leave, I lingered at the exit longer than I expected. The spectral receptionist pointed me towards a small vial of embalming oil as a parting gift and said with a dry smile: “Come back anytime you need necrotic restoration—cadaver or soul.” Cadaver or soul. Funny how those words stuck with me as I stepped back into Sigil’s chaotic streets. For so long, I’d been caught between two worlds—alive enough to be hated by the dead and dead enough to terrify the living—but here? Here I wasn’t an anomaly or an abomination. I was just… me. And that realisation hit harder than any magical sword ever could. So yeah, maybe Sigil is strange and dark and full of things that would make many people run screaming—but for once in my long and complicated existence, I felt like I belonged somewhere. And I’ll be damned if that didn’t surprise me more than anything else I’d seen today.
Staff of the Charnel Spa
Mistress Eryndra, Proprietor (planar lich sorceress [she/her] / Transcendent Order / N) is the spa’s enigmatic owner and a centuries-old lich who exudes an air of refined decay. Draped in robes that shimmer like cobwebs in moonlight, she oversees every aspect of the spa with meticulous care. Her voice, is dry and rasping like parchment, and her mastery of necromantic magic ensures that every treatment is both effective and… unforgettable. She has a particular fondness for dhampir clients, often remarking that they “bridge the gap between beauty and death.”

Vassil, the Skeletal Masseur (planar skeleton [he/him] / N) is a skeletal undead with a surprising talent for relaxation. His bony fingers allow him to deliver massages that melt through even the most serious cases of rigor mortis. Despite his lack of vocal cords, Vassil communicates through clicking and hissing that clients describe as both unnerving and oddly comforting.
Lady Sorrowveil (prime banshee [she/her] / N) is a banshee whose mournful wails have been magically muted for her role at the spa. Her ethereal form glides silently through the halls, and walls with a ghostly grace. She oversees the ectoplasmic pools while helping clients confront buried memories. Her presence is haunting, and clients find themselves strangely drawn to her tragic beauty.
Grist (prime ghoul [he/him] / NE) is a ghoul aesthetician with surprisingly delicate hands and an eye for detail. He handles treatments like embalming facials and skin wraps, ensuring that even undead skin retains its pallid perfection. While his appearance is grotesque—his maw constantly twitching with suppressed hunger, and he does have a habit of nibbling on leftover skin wraps—he takes immense pride in his work and has a dry sense of humour that puts clients at ease—or at least makes them laugh nervously.
Doctor Morgrave (prime wight physician [she/her] / NE) is a wight who serves as the spa’s resident medical expert. Once a renowned healer in life, she now uses her knowledge of anatomy and necromancy to offer restorative treatments like Ethereal Organ Cleansing or Phantom Limb Therapy. She has a demeanour as cold as the grave, and a bedside manner to match, and prefers the company of the dead to the living. In fact, Eryndra has to actively keep the doctor away from even half-living clients like dhampir, her wight hatred for life is so intense.
Price List*
Formaldehyde Plunge Pool — 1 stinger
Claw Manicure — 3 stingers
Soul Infusion Scrub — 4 stingers
Bone Recalibration Massage — 5 stingers
Necrotic Draught — 1 jinx
Fang Whitening — 1 jinx
Limb Restitching — 1 jinx
Remummification — 2 jinx
Source: Jon Winter-Holt. *Note on my homebrew jink slang: 1 stinger is 1 silver piece, and 1 jinx is a gold piece. More currency related cant here: Economy of the Planes

Whats the worth of value of a single stinger and jinx again?
A stinger is 1 silver, and a jinx is one gold. Thanks – I’ll add a note to the page!