Chant, Rumours and Lies

Any city located at crossroads between trading routes has its share of barmy talk and rumours. In Sigil, the crossroads to everywhere, the chant flows faster than a Nic'Epona can run. The flow is particular to the streets of the Cage. A city that recourses upon itself has its own bent on the way news circle around. The words of someone rattling their bone-box move into two direction and can spread like wildfire.

At the time both versions (or more than that) reach some ears they might sound like completely different messages even though the original was the same for both. Twisted by fiendish, slaadi, modron, celestial and mortal mouths, everyone gives a piece of chant its own colour. Once something starts making the round it is hard to determine, which is truth and what is a lie. Maybe a true message is twisted so badly by the number of times it is retold, that the original content is impossible to recognize.

No-one can tell, which type of chant anything has turned to, when it ends up at the Beheaded Fiend Inn. No-one can prove if it is true or not. If one could trace down the origin of a particular piece of chant, the pure amount piling up is often too much to deal with it this way. Good luck finding out what is true and what is just some barmy rattling his, her or its bone-box.