Sigil: The City of Doors

Directly across the street from the Great Gymnasium — headquarters of the Transcendent Order and mecca for those seeking enlightenment, relaxation, or neutral ground — stands a domed, white marble building known as The Other Place. It was built to be a lush welcoming and reception area for guests before they went into the Gym proper. Problem was, no one wanted to cool his heels there for long. Not with the big enticing Gym right across the street. The welcoming hall soon closed. 'Course, every Cipher and his brother had a hot idea for what might work better in the building (they're big on ideas). The best was a temple to an ex-factol of the Ciphers; the worst ranged from All Things Slaad to Xax's Big Bag of Beans. But none were successful.

In typical faction fashion (in other words, without a moment's hesitation), the aasimar Iarmid, head masseuse of the Great Gymnasium, grabbed some towels and his rubdown table - dumping a surprised Cipher onto the floor - and stood by the appointment desk of the Gym. The next berk who came in to find his slot'd been taken by a Cipher was led by Iarmid to the domed hall across the street. Days later, the customer returned to the Gym for another treatment, but he said he wanted to go to that other place.

Basically, the inside's a huge, circular expanse of white marble — clean, cool, smooth, and simple — and the building's four-story-high ceiling gives the large space an open, airy feeling. In the middle of the ceiling is a domed skylight, beneath which is centered a large, warm, round pool surrounded by neat piles of white towels. The pool is ringed by eight smaller round pools (for therapeutic baths), which are in turn encircled by adjoining, walled treatment rooms arranged like spokes of a wheel around the perimeter of the building.

Coins began to pour into the aasimar's pockets, and he hired and painstakingly trained assistants to have a considerate manner and an eye for detail — Bleak Cabalists need not apply. One day, Cipher Factol Rhys herself came to see Iarmid for a quick rubdown; hours later, she was amazed to find herself lingering in the building. With the factol's backing, the aasimar made extensive renovations. He even hired Harys Hatchis to give his business a refined and distinctive name, but chant in the ward doggedly labeled it "the other place." For a touch of levity (and the sake of referrals), Harys counseled him to let the name stick.

Iarmid greets all first-time customers personally (and, of course, any regulars who ask for him). When he moves, the tall, striking aasimar seems to skim just above the cool white marble floor. The strawberry-blond mane that encircles his face (a sign of his father, a leonal guardinal prince from Elysium) wafts about like cornsilk in a breeze. Iarmid wears overlapping layers of filmy robes; the garments combine to form an opaque pattern of blue sky dotted with white cumulus clouds. His tawny skin is completely smooth and poreless — fact is, his whole face seems to glow, its completely symmetrical features giving the aasimar a balanced, serene look.

Basically, the inside's a huge, circular expanse of white marble — clean, cool, smooth, and simple — and the building's four-story-high ceiling gives the large space an open, airy feeling. In the middle of the ceiling is a domed skylight, beneath which is centered a large, warm, round pool surrounded by neat piles of white towels. The pool is ringed by eight smaller round pools (for therapeutic baths), which are in turn encircled by adjoining, walled treatment rooms arranged like spokes of a wheel around the perimeter of the building. These thirty-odd rooms are comfortable, secluded spaces, some bathed only in candlelight, others by the bright glow of a tankful of light aasimon. 'Course, the loudest sounds heard anyplace in the building are echolike murmurs, sighs, and the tinkle of wind chimes barely brushed by the breeze of an air mephit — he keeps the place fresh and well-circulated.

Once welcomed, every client's taken down a corridor directly off the front entrance to a private room where she gets undressed. Here, all customers don the same style of soft, thick, white robe and slippers (sized and altered according to each race). What's more, they must divest themselves of all weapons and urges to use magic. Just in case a berk doesn't play fair, silent but muscular guards - bariaur and equinal guardinals - are stationed throughout.

Some Cagers like to look down on The Other Place, quick to dismiss the importance of Iarmid's business. They don't see a need for such leisure or pleasure, and besides, similar services are offered in the Great Gym right across the street. But Iarmid is earnest and serious, confident that he meets an essential need. A Cipher through and through, the aasimar knows that if thought and action are to be united, a body's got to be centered — sound of mind and flesh — with no distractions.

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A Flyer for potential services. Inquire within for prices.


Iarmid