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"Let's take a different approach this time," Dorn decided, "instead of the secret stairway down to Level Three. Unless you have a better idea by way of long association?" he asked, glancing at Cabe Eveda, Pact-Sworn to The Whispering Beast.

"I can't say I do," Cabe answered. The surface ruins of Arden Vul near the descent into "The Basement" were a grim testament to the city’s shattered grandeur. The air here was often heavy with the scent of ancient dust and damp rot, a stark contrast to the Blood Scent or Heart Thrum which Cabe might pick up in more populated sections of the ruins.The air near the massive, cliff-side ruins carried a faint whiff of ozone.

Dorn's hand rested on the pommel of Swift, his chainmail armor gleaming under the pale sun.

Cabe stood at Dorn's side, his Heart Thrum already pulsing as he scanned for the hidden heartbeats of whatever lurked just past the threshold.

Aele stood just behind them, the metallic dust for his rituals partially consumed, though he had plenty for the next few days. These two are scrapping for a fight; I, however, hunger to uncover the secrets of the Progenitors.

"You're sure this is the right spot?" Dorn asks Cabe. Vedecab Dorn reminds himself. I am Thrangir, the wizard-priest is Zorael, and our new friend is Vedecab Eeii. The false identities were, in Dorn's mind, absolutely essential, given the price on his head put there by The Blackfists.

Cabe looks at the ancient stone of the decrepit administrative building. "It's the only structure with a chimney within view and which is near to the pyramid," He answered, indicating the nearby great pyramid of Thoth. To their left, the roar of the Long Falls was a constant, white-noise rumble.

Aele feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up when Dorn draws Swift, his magical longsword. This was the first soul-bound weapon the priest had ever encountered. His Thothian sight saw much that others missed, and Aele had quickly realized that the spirit of their slain former companion — Exodore, Dorn's lover — had invested the blade, choosing it as her eternal home; or, if not eternal, probably at least for the remainder of Dorn's life. Let's hope that isn't unfortunately brief.

Dorn had been quietly pleased to see that his blade had developed an enchantment. Here in the afternoon sunlight, it was still apparent that Swift gave off a pale blue luminance. Down below, that illumination was better than that provided by a torch. It could not be blown out by a breeze, extinguished with water, or become spent like a torch. Nevertheless, Aele carried a bullseye lantern in his off-hand, right hand gripping his (sadly) non-magical but nevertheless trusty mace.

Dorn felt a warm, comforting weight on his mind, now that Swift was in his hand. He liked to think it was Exodore, watching over him. He was more correct than he knew. He gains 1 (1d4) temporary hit point: 35/34; AC

"What do you see?" Dorn asked Cabe. The Pact-Sworn sighed. "As I've explained, I don't see what is ahead, not unless I am able to see through the eyes of some creature I have wounded. What I am doing right now is sensing the thrumming of beating hearts. Yes, there are living creatures below, but we are yet too distant for me to discern anything more specific."

The area surrounding the stairs is a jagged landscape of collapsed masonry and choked courtyards. Once-mighty obsidian and granite pillars lie toppled like the ribcage of a dead giant. Many are carved with fading bas-reliefs of the Archons, though moss and lichen have claimed most of the detail.

As Aele brushes away centuries of grime and thick, grey moss from the stone lintel above the stairs, several distinct markers become visible. These aren't just decorative; they serve as a warning and a map for those who know how to interpret them. An engraved eye is surrounded by three concentric rings. Dorn looks a question at the wizard-priest and Aele says, "A ward, but no longer active. For centuries, though, it would have permitted the priests of Thoth to survey those entering and leaving this stairwell."

Our three heroes begin their descent. Where the surface ruins are weathered and airy, the stairs downward consist of tighter, more utilitarian stonework. The transition is sharp; the wind whistles through the broken archways above, but it dies into a heavy, stagnant silence the moment Aele has passed the fourth or fifth riser. I'm not afraid. I've survived a beastman ambush. We're too close to the surface to encounter anything substantial Aele decides.

The three come out into a chamber. The smell of lichen and algae and something else registers. Cabe signals quietly toward a collapsed wall of masonry to the north. Something alive there. Dorn nods, his grip tightening on Swift. The magical blade pulses with a steady, pale light, casting long, dancing shadows against the damp masonry.

The rubble to the north consists of massive limestone blocks that once formed a grand archway, now a jagged heap of stone and dust. Dorn shifts his buckler forward, sword raised, and advances to the north. Cabe extends his senses forward. The heartbeat to the north isn't the rapid, fluttering beat of a bird or a small animal; it’s slow, heavy, and resonant. It sounds like something of significant size—or something very calm.

As they reach the edge of the rubble, the light from Swift and Aele’s lantern spills over the top of the debris, revealing the chamber beyond — the remains of an old scriptorium. Rotting wooden desks are overturned, and the floor is carpeted in a thick layer of pulpy, decomposed parchment.

Crouched in the far corner, partially obscured by a heavy stone table, is a singular, massive figure. It stands nearly seven feet tall, covered in matted, grey-white fur. It has the muscular build of a man but the elongated snout and sharp canines of a baboon. It is hunched over a pile of what looks like scavenged metal, its eyes reflecting the lantern light with a dull, silver glint.

The trio freezes at the edge of the light. Aele raises a hand, signaling for Dorn and Cabe to hold their steel. He recognizes the creature—one of the "White Ones," an ancient lineage of baboons that have inhabited these ruins since the time of the Progenitors.

Aele closes his eyes, focusing his will to bridge the gap between human intellect and the primal, sacred mind of the beast.

The creature remains hunched over its scavenged metal, its back to the party. It is preoccupied, perhaps picking through the debris for something specific. It is completely unaware of the three adventurers standing in the pool of lantern light. Still, Dorn is surprised that the combined illumination of the lantern and longsword haven't broken the massive creature out of its preoccupation.

Aele steps forward, keeping his movements fluid and non-threatening. He doesn't speak aloud; instead, he projects a sense of calm, reverence, and purpose. He invokes the "Scholar’s Peace," a mental signature recognizable to those creatures that have lived in the shadow of Thoth for millennia.

The creature’s ears twitch. It slowly stops its picking and turns its massive, silver-maned head. It sees the armored warrior and the blood-scented stalker, but its gaze settles on Aele.

It lets out a low, vibrating huff—not a bark of aggression, but a sound of deep uncertainty. It rises to its full height, knuckles resting on the stone floor, its silver eyes searching Aele’s face for the mark of the temple.

Dorn stands braced and ready. If that "huff" turns into a roar, he is positioned to take the charge.

Cabe's Blood Scent picks up the smell of old copper and ozone coming from the metal the baboon is holding. His Heart Thrum confirms this is the only oversized heartbeat in the room, though there are tiny, skittering beats (likely rats) in the walls.

Aele’s movements are agonizingly slow, designed to avoid any sudden shifts that might trigger the creature’s predatory instincts. As the holy symbol—a stylized ibis on a moon disk—swings into the dim light of the lantern, it catches the glow of Dorn’s magical blade.

The baboon’s nostrils flare. It recognizes the geometry of the symbol.

Since Aele’s hands are full, he cannot perform the complex manual mudras of the Thothian liturgy. Instead, he performs the "Scholar’s Bow": he keeps his hands exactly where they are—lantern and mace held wide and low to show he is not bracing for a strike—and slowly tilts his head at a 45-degree angle, exposing his neck slightly while keeping his gaze respectful but firm.

Reaction Roll (Modified by Aele’s Charisma 14 and Holy Symbol):

The creature’s posture shifts. The tension in its massive shoulders ripples and then subsides. It lets out a shorter, softer huff and retreats two steps toward the side, clearing the direct path to the northern door.

It crouches back down, but its eyes remain fixed on Aele. It is no longer a guard, but it is an observer. It seems to be "granting passage" to the Priest, though its gaze toward Dorn and Cabe remains suspicious.

As the creature moves, the "scavenged metal" it was huddled over is revealed. It isn't just scrap; it appears to be a broken bronze gears and a fractured lens from some ancient astronomical device.

Cabe’s Blood Scent confirms the ozone smell is coming from the lens—it still holds a faint, static charge of ancient energy.

The northern door is now accessible. It is heavy wood reinforced with iron bands, likely leading to the "Administrative Loop" of The Basement.

The huge white baboon has adopted a neutral posture. Aele offers a silent prayer for his companions: grant them the wisdom not to touch or approach the guardian's treasure...

Cabe senses that the heartbeat of the baboon has slowed to a steady, calm rhythm. However, he now hears a faint, metallic clinking sound coming from the other side of the northern door. That circular component with the crack in it: I am certain I sense some energy contained within...

Without taking his eyes off the baboon, Dorn slowly moves closer to the door to the north, then listens with his ear pressed against it. Aele silently applauds. He slowly puts his mace back through a loop on his belt, then carefully and slowly rummages within a belt pouch and produces an apple. This he sets on an overturned nearby pillar, then glances at the baboon, noting its keen attention.

As Aele places the apple on the fallen limestone pillar, the White One follows the movement with its large, silver eyes. Once Aele retreats a few steps, the baboon lopes forward with a silent, knuckle-walking gait, snatches the fruit, and retreats back to its bronze "treasure." It doesn't eat it immediately; it sniffs it deeply, then lets out a low, satisfied grunt.

Pressing his ear to the cold iron bands of the northern door, Dorn holds his breath. He hears a rhythmic, mechanical clink-clink-clink followed by a heavy, sliding sound—like stone dragging over stone. It sounds repetitive, suggesting a trap, a machine, or something pacing a very specific route.

Cabe closes his eyes and filters out the baboon’s calm pulse. Beyond the door, he detects nothing. No heartbeat. No blood pumping. No warmth. He draws a deep breath. There is no scent of sweat, musk, or decay. Instead, the air leaking through the door-frame smells of old oil, cold iron, and scorched copper. Whatever is making that noise behind the door is not alive. When Dorn looks to him in silent question, Cabe points to his own chest, then makes a negating motion with his head. Dorn nods once, understanding.

Aele slowly eases toward the door, intent on searching for any inscriptions. Even as the White One investigates the apple, its sheer muscularity is intimidating; a single swipe of those silver-furred arms could indeed end a scholar’s career. Dorn shifts his weight, his heavy chainmail clinking softly as he steps into the line of sight, a human wall of steel and muscle protecting the priest.

Aele holds the lantern high, letting its warm light wash over the door's surface. He ignores the rusted iron and focuses on the wood and the stone frame.

The Inscription: Faded but still legible in the lintel above the door is a line of Middle Thothian script. It reads: "Maintenance and Logistics – Authorized Custodians Only. Silence is the Handmaid of Precision."

Aele notices a small, circular indentation near the handle—not a keyhole, but a receptacle for a signet ring or a specific amulet. However, the wood around the latch is splintered, suggesting that over the centuries, the locking mechanism has been bypassed or forced.

While Aele reads, the sounds from within grow more distinct. Without the distraction of the baboon's breathing, the trio can identify the clink-clink-clink as the sound of metal articulating against metal. Cabe, still watchful of the baboon, draws close to his companions and says in a soft voice, "The coppery smell is getting stronger, but the noises are regular. They don't vary."

Aele nods. "Could be an ancient automaton or golem, still doing the same thing it was doing millenia ago. Look here at the latch. It's busted and the door isn't latched. See that hole?" He holds the lantern close while first Cabe, and then Dorn, take turns having a peek. "Probably made for a signet ring or amulet to act as a key," the wizard-priest surmises.

Dorn says, quietly but distinctly, "All right. This door is our only way forward, unless we want to return to the surface. Cabe, see if you can find any hinges. I have oil in my pack. Do what you can with it, then see if you and Aele can get a peek at whatever is on the other side. I'll keep our overmuscled friend here company while he contemplates his apple."

Cabe moves with the predatory grace of the Beast-kin. He takes the vial and approaches the heavy door. His Blood Scent is overwhelmed by the metallic tang from within, but his focus remains sharp.

Cabe locates the three massive iron hinges. They are caked in centuries of dust and orange rust. He carefully tips the vial, letting the oil seep into the dry joints. He waits a moment for it to penetrate, then places his hand on the wood to feel for vibrations.

The Peek: With Dorn acting as the anchor, Cabe and Aele lean in. Cabe applies pressure with a single finger, easing the door open a mere half-inch. Aele holds his lantern light up to the narrow aperture and strains to discern what lies beyond. He freezes, and his mouth goes slack...

To Be Continued...

The former Set cultist pulls back the hood of his red cloak, revealing himself. "Know that I am no longer a slave to Set. My pact is with The Whispering Beast. For months I have been His. Of late, certain outward characteristics have made it impossible to continue to feign loyalty to the snake god." And indeed, Aele can see that this is no Set cultist, for they either have human or snake-heads — sometimes in bewteen if they are of intermediate rank.

"You are blood-fused with The Whispering Beast?" Aele asks with incredulity. "Things among the Set cultists must be even worse than I could imagine. Can you explain what a blood-binder is doing with a Setite and these beastmen?"

"I can and will, but first things first." He stoops down and places a clawed hand on the fallen Set cultist's chest. Cracking and popping sounds ensue, and the dead cultist's chest implodes inward. The man (beast?) with the wolf's ears casually gestures at the two beastmen and they choke. One panics and bolts for the forest, the other drops to its knees, clawing at his throat. Soon, neither moves, and Dorn thrusts Swift through each's chest just to be extra sure, before returning to face this interloper.

"Who are you?" Dorn asks.

"My name is Cabe. I was a loyal follower of the snake god for three years, and even advanced a couple of ranks within the Halls," he shares, referring of course to the Halls of Arden Vul. "I rose in the ranks of the Fangs of Set, then was promoted to work under Heker-Set, the Keeper of the Scales. He was ... abusive. A year ago, I was able to obtain a long-term assignment monitoring Surface operations for ... as you call it, the cult of Set. But I must tell you, Set is very much alive. His followers are no mere deluded cult, destined to die out in due time."

"I believe you," Aele says, "for I have learned in recent weeks that my own god, Cromm, is but an aspect of the ever-living Thoth. Something is very much amiss, for we have been grossly misinformed here on the Surface in recent decades." He glances at Dorn, who is examining some coins and trinkets that the beastmen were carrying, then turns his attention back to Cabe.

"Cabe who?" Aele asks. "What is your surname?"

"Aveda; I hail from Beretun. My father is a hops farmer there, and mother works at The Bailiff's Truncheon in Gosterwick."

"I know that place," Dorn adds. "Still doesn't explain how you kept your ... tranformation a secret from the Set cult."

"In truth, I am not certain it remains a secret, though I hope it is. I have not been back within the Halls in a little over a year, making my reports to Heker-Set through the usual channels, at the appointed times. I have no indication that he suspects anything is amiss."

Aele interjects, "Explain the cooperation between the cultists and the beastmen." He gestures at the two beastmen that Cabe has slain. "And how did you kill these two?"

Cabe nods and answers the second question first. "I sampled those two's blood and have since sung their heartsong to The Whispering Beast under a full moon. Thus I controlled their beating hearts."

Aele looks at Dorn, whose stoic expression perhaps conceals his own concern about this sort of power. The wizard-priest figures the fighter's thoughts are strolling down the same lane as his own. What sort of boon might this ... man-beast be to us in the megadungeon, if we can trust him?

As darkness falls, the three sit round a campfire laid on a knoll almost a mile west of the road, and half a mile past the defiled shrine where they fought earlier in the day. Dorn has carefully stacked stones in a wall round the fire, partially hiding its light, and they are roasting a brace of rabbits over hot coals.

"So," Cabe ventures, after polishing off rabbit meat, a thick hunk of bread, and an apple, "tell me more of yourselves." Although he has offered to pass around a wineskin, Aele and Dorn have declined. They have accepted the apples and bread, after Aele examines them with the enhanced sight granted him by Thoth.

"You must understand that we do not yet fully trust you," Aele states. "For while my knowledge of Set suggests you have probably been truthful about your history with the cult, that is no guarantee that you aren't playing both sides. Perhaps, in addition to having made pact with your master, you are still willing to play the cult."

"Your suspicion is warranted, and I can tell you that I am wily, shifty, and too clever by half. However, it so happens I'm being genuinely honest for a change. I grow tired of even deceptively serving Heker-Set. I would see him suffer and be brought low. And although the odds of that happening are low, adventurers like yourselves will likely be his downfall, if it happens at all."

"It will happen, for I have sworn to bring the Halls low," Dorn says, staring into the fire.

Cabe arches an eyebrow and seems ready to ask another question, but Aele subtly warns him against pursuing it. Instead, he asks, "Might I offer assistance in your efforts to cast down that dungeon to the north?"

Dorn throws the pit of his apple into the fire, then looks at Cabe. "You killed two beastmen. You can't be all bad..." And the three of them chuckle.

"Perhaps there is something I can do that may demonstrate my usefulness," Cabe ventures.

"So long as it doesn't involve blood binding us," Aele says, curious.

"In this particular case, it does not. You are both still a bit worse for wear after our skirmish earlier today," he observes, noting scrapes and bruises and the occasional bandage. "I can share a small portion of my ... vitality to restore you, if you will permit it."

"I enjoy being injured; makes me fight meaner," Dorn says.

Aele grins, then sobers and says, "you may do so with me, but be warned" — and here, Aele's eyes momentarily light up an eldritch blue — "I shall know by the wisdom of Thoth if you seek to be in any way duplicitous."

Cabe nods. "I believe you. Very well then. I will open myself to you. Take only what you need. The Whispering Beast provides the bridge."

And sure enough, a cut on Aele's hand heals, and a bruise on his temple disappears. After a few seconds, fully healed, Aele says, "Remarkable. I would not have thought miraculous healing possible, except through the gods."

"In truth," Cabe says, "it is not miraculous. But it is a supernatural ability and certainly one that I would not have, had I not made Pact."

"What did you promise this Whispering Beast?" Dorn asks, bluntly, but Aele raises a hand palm out to forestall this line of inqury, and Cabe says, "I may not speak of it."

"In that case, explain why you would be willing to give of your lifeforce to another," Dorn demands.

Cabe nods, appreciating the question. "I recover vitality very quickly, much quicker than normal men. It was a sacrifice for me, yes; but a short-lived one."

The next morning dawns cool and with dew on the fields and on the knoll.

"Well," Aele remarks, "I see you decided not to flee us during the night, nor robbed us or attempted murder."

Dorn shares hard tack all around. "I told you, someone who kills beastmen can't be all bad." And he shares a grin with Cabe Aveda.

"No, indeed," Cabe agrees. "And had you been attacked in the night, I would have fought for you. Listen, I have a good idea who among Set's disciples ordered yon shrine to Thoth to be defiled. What say we travel together for awhile, jointly bust some skulls, and see if shared danger won't forge a bond? Regardless of your answer, I will seek to deliver the shrine defilers into your hands."

The heroes have just successfully figured out the puzzle and have triggered the jade elephant statue, which now slides slowly but smoothly aside to reveal a vault beneath.

The three heroes stand within the Vault of the Elephant, the stale air of the chamber shifting as the massive stone effigy grinds across the floor to reveal the sub-vault's entrance. The two rescued goblin captives hover near the heroes’ heels, their wide eyes darting between the newfound treasure and their "Ambassador" saviors.

The mechanism has functioned perfectly. As the elephant statue completes its rotation, a set of narrow, dust-choked stairs descends into a smaller, more secure chamber below the main vault.

Aele's heart-seed scarab pulses with a faint amber light, reacting to the ancient Thothian resonance in the secure sub-structure.

The captives whisper to one another in their guttural tongue, clearly hesitant to enter a place even their King, Weskenim, has not seen inside for generations.

Dorn commands the goblins to stand guard at the entrance to the Vault of the Elephant, and to raise a hue and cry in alarm if anyone approaches while the heroes are below in the sub-vault. Before descending, Dorn will use an iron spike to ensure that the elephant statue cannot move back into place, sealing the heroes below.

With the spike firmly set and the goblins keeping watch, the heroes turn their attention to the narrow stairs. The Heart-Seed Scarab around Aele's neck pulses with a warm, amber light as he approaches the threshold, its Thothian magic sensing the ancient secrets buried below.

With the spike firmly set and the goblins keeping watch, the heroes turn their attention to the narrow stairs. The Heart-Seed Scarab around Aele's neck pulses with a warm, amber light as he approaches the threshold, its Thothian magic sensing the ancient secrets buried below.

The heroes descend into the cool, stagnant air of the sub-vault in a tight tactical formation. Dorn leads with his shield, the Aegis of the Firmament, held high to intercept any physical threats , while Aele remains a half-step behind, shielded by the fighter’s obsidian-clad bulk.

Maintaining the Blood-Bond, Cabe ensures that any sudden trap damage is distributed across the party's combined health pool.

The Heart-Seed Scarab pulses with amber light. Aele is mentally prepared to trigger Thoth's Champion at the first sign of a guardian.

The stairs end in a small, circular chamber. The floor is covered in a layer of fine, white dust. In the center of the room stands a waist-high stone plinth holding a heavy, leather-bound volume and a small, ivory box.

Aele steps forward, his Silver Signet (Magistrate's Ring) catching the amber light of the Heart-Seed Scarab as he raises his Staff of the Silver Tongue. Utilizing his Thothian insight, he begins a methodical scan of the chamber. His senses are heightened by his specialized gear. He carefully parses the magical weave for any "Weight of Ma'at" seals or similar ritualistic traps.

Aele detects a faint, shimmering aura surrounding the stone plinth. It is not a trap designed to harm, but rather a Vocal Lock or an Identity Seal.

The Ivory Box: The box is protected by a thin veil of abjuration magic that will likely trigger a "Guardianship" spell if opened by anyone not recognized as a Thothian Magistrate or priest.

The Leather Volume: This book is saturated with ancient Thothian energy. Aele senses that the Heart-Seed Scarab is the physical key required to safely lift the "Seal of Silence" from its pages.

The Floor: The white dust on the floor is not mere age; it is finely ground limestone, a common Thothian deterrent for tracking invisible entities—or perhaps revealing the footprints of those who shouldn't be here.

Aele steps closer to the plinth, the Heart-Seed Scarab around his neck glowing with an intense, rhythmic amber light as it recognizes the ancient Thothian wards. He places his hand near the Leather Volume, the translucent green agate of the scarab acting as a conduit between the Scholar and the ancient seal.

As Aele brings the scarab into proximity with the book, the shimmering blue aura begins to harmonize with the amber pulse of the agate. Aele recognizes the specific magical signature as a variation of the seal he was told the scarab could bypass.

The Silver Signet (Magistrate's Ring) on his finger hums in resonance, signaling to the sub-vault's dormant logic that a recognized official of the Empire is present. With a soft click that echoes through the circular chamber, the leather straps on the volume unlatch themselves, and the veil over the ivory box thins into nothingness.

With the magical wards neutralized by the scarab, the contents of the plinth are now accessible:

Item	Description	Aele's assessment
The Leather Volume	An ancient Thothian tome titled "The Resonances of the Deep Pipes."	Grants Advantage on checks to navigate or manipulate the machinery of Arden Vul.
The Ivory Box	A small, cold box carved with the likeness of a lotus.	Contains three vials of shimmering liquid and a silver key.

Dorn remains at the ready with Swift and the Aegis of the Firmament, his eyes scanning the shadows of the room for any physical guardians that the magical silent alarm might have summoned despite Aele's bypass. Cabe maintains the Blood-Bond, his senses heightened by the primal energy of the vault. The sub-vault remains quiet for now.

Aele carefully reaches for the ivory box, his Silver Signet glinting in the amber light as he lifts the lid. Inside, the silver key and the three vials of shimmering liquid are revealed in the glow of the Heart-Seed Scarab.

Aele performs a quick scholar’s appraisal of the items:

The silver key is cold to the touch and engraved with a stylized elephant’s head; Aele suspects this is the "Master Key" to the deeper mechanisms of the Vault of the Elephant.

Aele recognizes the three shimmering vials as Thothian Elixirs.

Vial 1 (Pale Blue): An Elixir of Clarity, likely granting a temporary boost to Intelligence checks or mental saving throws.

Vial 2 (Deep Crimson): A potent healing draught, possibly equivalent to a high-tier potion of vitality.

Vial 3 (Swirling Amber): This elixir resonates with the Heart-Seed Scarab, perhaps used to temporarily empower Thothian rituals or surges.

While Cabe keeps watch and Dorn remains braced behind the Aegis of the Firmament, Aele turns his attention to the ancient tome. As a Savant and Adept with the Heart-Seed Scarab, he decodes the Thothian script with remarkable speed.

Engineering Map: The volume contains a schematic of the Pipe Tunnels on Sublevel 4, marking the flow of the "Great Breath" and identifying hidden maintenance bypasses.

The Elephant’s Purpose: The book reveals that the Vault of the Elephant was originally designed as a pressure-stabilization chamber for the entire mega-dungeon's hydraulic system.

Ritual Instruction: Aele finds a passage that describes how to use the Silver Key to manually override the Cistern of Skulls floodgates, which could be a decisive tactical advantage in future encounters.

Aele carefully stows the ancient tome and the delicate ivory box into his gear, his Silver Signet glinting as he secures the new assets. With the Heart-Seed Scarab continuing to pulse with a steady amber light, the heroes turn their back on the circular chamber to follow the "Maintenance Bypass" path described in the text.

Following the schematics from the tome, the heroes ascend the stairs, retrieve the Iron Spike to free the elephant mechanism, and signal the goblin sentries to follow. According to the book, a concealed lever behind a loose stone in the main vault's northern wall reveals the Maintenance Bypass.

Dorn finds the concealed lever fairly easily. A narrow, vertical shaft with a rusted iron ladder descends deep into the mechanical "guts" of the Pipe Tunnels. This bypass allows the party to circumvent the main corridors, potentially emerging behind any remaining Beastman patrols near the Cistern of Skulls.

The ladder down into the Maintenance Bypass is slick with condensation and the smell of ancient oil is thick.

As the heroes exit the sub-vault and return to the Vault of the Elephant, something in the magical programming of this site is triggered, perhaps because the Sun-Pendant was removed from the jade elephant statue. Ghasts and the chamber's husks now attack.

Aele stands tall, his Silver Signet Ring catching the amber light of the Heart-Seed Scarab. As the wooden feline constructs tense their springs to leap, Aele strikes the floor with the butt of his staff, projecting a voice of magisterial authority that resonates with the ancient harmonics of the vault.

Aele uses his Advantage (Scarab/Lore) and his +2 bonus (Leather Volume/Thothian Mystery).

Roll 1: 18 | Roll 2: 14
Result: 18 + 4 (Int) + 3 (Proficiency) + 2 (Volume) = 27.

Success: The command is absolute. The feline husks, mid-pounce, twist in the air with impossible agility. Instead of landing on Dorn, they use the warrior's pauldrons as springboards, their wooden claws extending like jagged obsidian as they pivot toward the pale horrors climbing out of the shaft.

Aele has used his Action to dominate the constructs. Now, he utilizes the Scribe's Linothorax to trigger a ritual as a Bonus Action.

Ritual Triggered: Thoth's Comfort.

Effect: Aele, Cabe, and Dorn each gain +1 HP (instantaneous), and +1 to AC and Saving Throws for the next 30 rounds.

Scarab Synergy: Because this ritual restores hit points, the Heart-Seed Scarab triggers.

Aele feels the Heart-Seed Scarab pulse with a rhythmic, golden warmth as the Thoth's Comfort ritual takes hold. The amber light flows from the agate scarab into his chest, weaving a shimmering lattice of protective energy around his soul. Aele gains 5 (1d6) Temporary Hit Points.

Party Status

Hero	HP	Temp HP	AC	Status
Aele	41/41	5	16	Linothorax Active; Rituals are Bonus Actions.
Dorn	35/34	0	27	Swift is drawn (+1 AC); Aegis active.
Cabe	32/31	0	16	Bow drawn; Blood-Bond active.

Dorn draws Swift with a ring of cold steel, and stands as a bastion of iron and jade. With an AAC of 27, the Ghast's filthy claws (which usually require a 13 or 14 to hit a standard knight) now need a natural 19 or 20 to find a gap in his defenses.

Dorn steps into the Ghast's reach, using the weight of his +1 Plate to shoulder-charge the creature while swinging Swift in a brutal horizontal arc.

Attack Roll: 17 + 8 (Base/Knack/Str) + 1 (Thoth's Comfort) = 26 to hit.
Damage: 1d8 + 8(Str/Knack) = 15 Damage.
The Result: The blow is devastating. Dorn cleaves through the 
Ghast’s ribs, the magical edge of Swift cauterizing the necrotic flesh. 

Dorn follows through with a shield bash (Great Strike), forcing the creature to make a Strength save.

Ghast Strength Save: 8 (Failure).
Effect: The Ghast is sent reeling backward, 
tumbling over the lip of the shaft and falling 
30 feet into the dark. CRUNCH.

Current Tactical Standing Ghast #1: Being shredded by the 3 Feline Husks at the edge of the shaft.

Ghast #2: Fallen 30 feet down the shaft (Taking 3d6 falling damage).

Husks: Occupying the front line.

The Rear Door: The door behind the party has creaked open further. A third Ghast, wearing the tattered remains of a Thothian Priest's robe, is standing in the threshold. It is not attacking yet; it is staring at Aele’s Heart-Seed Scarab with a look of starving recognition.

The battle rhythm tightens as the party faces a pincer attack. Dorn stands as an iron wall at the central shaft, while Cabe and Aele pivot to address the robed horror at the rear door.

Cabe sees the Ghast-Priest staring at Aele’s scarab. Knowing that undead focus is often the prelude to a powerful curse or a lethal pounce, he draws his bowstring to his ear. The Blood-Bond allows him to feel Aele’s intent to channel, so Cabe times his release to disrupt the creature first.

Action: Ranged Attack with Longbow.
Attack Roll: 19 + 6 = 25 to hit.
Damage: $1d8 + 1d6$ (Fire) + 2 (Red Frenzy/if active) = 13 Damage.
Result: The arrow thuds into the Ghast-Priest’s chest, the fire igniting 
the ancient, dry silk of its Thothian robes. The creature screeches, its 
focus on the scarab momentarily broken by the searing pain.

As the Ghast-Priest reels from Cabe’s arrow, Aele steps forward. He raises the Heart-Seed Scarab high, its amber light flaring into a blinding, solar brilliance that fills the vault. He speaks a word of Final Rest in the Old Thothian tongue.

Action: Turn Undead.
The Check: Aele rolls 1d20 + 7 (Wis/Prof) 
with Advantage (Scarab/Lore synergy).
Rolls: 15, 19. Result: 26.
Effect: The Ghast-Priest’s milky eyes widen 
in terror as the holy light of Thoth washes 
over it. It isn't just turned; it is physically 
repulsed. 

The ghast scrambles backward into the dark hallway beyond the door, clawing at the walls to escape the Magistrate’s light.

Dorn maintains his position at the lip of the shaft. Below, he can hear the second Ghast groaning as it tries to find purchase on the mechanical rails to climb back up. Above him, the three Feline Husks have finished shredding the first Ghast into necrotic confetti and are now crouched at the edge, their wooden heads tilting in unison as they look down the shaft, awaiting Dorn’s lead. He plants his +2 Shield and readies Swift. If any creature reaches the lip of the shaft, he will use his Great Strike to send them back down.

• Ghast #1: Destroyed.
• Ghast #2: 30 feet down the shaft, injured (15 HP remaining), attempting to climb.
• Ghast-Priest: Fleeing into the rear hallway (Turned for 1 minute).
• Goblins: Pips is cheering from the scroll racks. "Big-light! The Magistrate brings the big-light!"

Dorn points a gauntleted finger toward the dark opening. "Down! Finish it!"

The Feline Husks don't hesitate. Their wooden frames snap with the tension of released springs as they launch themselves into the circular shaft. The sound from below is a chaotic mixture of splintering wood, the wet tearing of necrotic flesh, and a final, gurgling screech that echoes up the stone walls before abruptly falling silent.

The Shaft is Secured A few moments later, the only sound coming from the sub-vault is the rhythmic click-clack of wooden claws on stone as the constructs begin to prowl the lower chamber, awaiting further orders. The immediate threat from below has been neutralized.

The Rear Hallway Aele’s holy light continues to pulse from the Heart-Seed Scarab, creating a zone of sanctuary. The Ghast-Priest is gone, fled deep into the darkness of the marbled halls, its cowardly shrieks fading into the distance.

Pips hops down from the scroll rack, his eyes wide. "The Big-Man commands the wooden cats! This is a good omen, yes! Very good!" He scurries over to the edge of the shaft and peers down. "The way is clear to the guts of the world now."

Dorn grips the Copper Trunk and the Sun-Pendant, giving them a sharp, practiced twist and lift. As the keys clear the floor-slot, the vault responds with a heavy, grinding groan. The Jade Elephant begins to slide back toward its original position with a slow, hydraulic inevitability, and the circular shaft in the floor starts to iris shut.

"The cats are on their own down there for a moment," Dorn grunts, stowing the heavy keys and tightening the grip on his shield. "But that priest is too dangerous to leave at our backs."

Aele and Cabe nod, the Blood-Bond thrumming with the adrenaline of the hunt. The party turns away from the treasures of the vault and sprints toward the rear door, stepping over the necrotic remains of the first Ghast.

The marbled hall beyond the door is cold and opulent, lined with white stone pillars that have been stained by centuries of damp. Aele’s Heart-Seed Scarab continues to pulse with the fading energy of the Turn Undead, illuminating the hallway in rhythmic bursts of amber light.

The Trail: The Ghast-Priest’s retreat was anything but subtle. Pale, putrid ichor from its arrow wound streaks the floor, and the sound of its frantic, wet clawing against the marble walls echoes from around a corner roughly sixty feet ahead.

The Environment: The hallway opens up into a larger gallery with separate doors leading to the left and right. The air here smells of stale incense and dry rot. Finally, the corner the ghast in a hall with rooms along its sides. Aele makes a mental note to investigate the 'Chamber of Transition' and the 'Vestry of the Unspoken'. These are liturgical terms, suggesting this area served as a preparation wing for high-ranking Thothian priests before they entered the presence of the "Elephant."

The Ghast-Priest, its back turned as it frantically claws at the bronze door, is a sitting duck for a warrior of Dorn's caliber. Dorn doesn't just run; he uses the momentum of his heavy plate, launching himself into the air ten feet from the target.

Attack Roll: 18 + 8  (Base/Str/Knack) + 1 (Comfort) = 27 to hit.
Damage: 1d8 + 8 (Str/Knack) = 16 Damage.

Dorn descends like an iron comet. Swift bites deep into the Ghast-Priest’s shoulder, cleaving through the desiccated muscle and bone down to the sternum. The force of the impact slams the creature against the bronze door with a metallic GONG.

The Ghast-Priest let out a final, rattling hiss as the magical edge of Swift—imbued with the light of the vault—severs its connection to the negative plane. The creature collapses into a heap of tattered silk and grey, crumbling flesh. It is truly destroyed.

Cabe skids to a halt, bow still half-drawn, checking the shadows of the "Vestry" and "Chamber" doors. "Cleanly done, Dorn. But look at the door..."

The Bronze Door & The Mystery

The door the Ghast-Priest was trying to open is slightly ajar now, forced by the impact of Dorn’s strike. Beyond it lies not a room, but a steep spiral staircase winding upward. Aele notices a distinct lack of dust on these stairs; something has been using this passage recently.

Dorn says, "All right. Let's go back and investigate those jars and scrolls, then we'll return here, investigate a couple of rooms that seem to have attracted Aele's interest. Finally, we'll investigate this spiral stairwell, which shows signs of recent use."

The brain is a marvelous, ineffable entity that is greater than the sum of its parts. And it is fallible. And it knows when to shut down, when to check out. Some indeterminate period of time after the battle with the beastmen, Dorn and Aele's brains began to take tentative sips of the that complex brew, Reality.

"Ughhh..." Dorn groans. "Exie? Exie, are you o— Recollection smashes into Dorn's brain and it gags and reflexively jerks away, and Dorn gratefully embraces blackness again. Aele looks over at his unconscious friend with remorse, with compassion, and yes — with somewhat of a fatherly affection for the younger man. "Old friend, I am so very sorry. Sorry for your loss, and sorrier still for the battle ahead of you. Exie was my newfound acquaintance, but very clearly she was your everything."

Beyond the depths of Arden Vul, dawn is breaking upon the Surface world; but in the subterranean environs of the dungeon, cycles of day and night become distant concepts. Here, it is sameness: cold, damp, uncomfortable, dangerous. Violence and death live here. Nine hours have passed since a force of myconid men ambushed not only Dorn and Aele, but also their beastmen foes.

Dorn has a headache, but he is sitting up, drinking water from his own waterskin, digging a biscuit from his own pack. He looks over at Aele. "They didn't take our stuff?" he asks, stupidly.

"No, and we seem to be in an old abandoned storage room." He indicates the closed door with a gesture. The door is of wood, banded in rusty but still very strong iron.

"Are we prisoners?" Dorn asks. He can faintly perceive the door. Luminous lichen provides some illumination.

"There are six myconid men beyond the door. Ask me how I know that..."

"How do you know?" Dorn asks.

"Because they very roughly insisted I stay put when I tried to open the door and take a stroll. It seems we are being held for some reason."

"I lost consciousness," Dorn says. "Near the end of the fight, when we were about to be killed. I seem to recall seeing you unconscious too, before I collapsed."

"You did. Somehow they rendered us unconscious. Us, and the remaining beastmen too."

"They killed them, I suppose?"

"No actually. They are being kept somewhere close by. I very clearly heard their howling and bleating an hour ago."

"These ... myconids. What are they? They're obviously intelligent."

The priest considers. "Indeed. That they have left us our weapons and other supplies seems to suggest that they perceive us to be of little threat, and that perhaps we'll be released soon. We can hope, anyway."

"All my hopes for the future have fled."

Aele squats down next to the fighter. "Dorn, listen to me. There are no words adequate for your loss, and I will remain your staunch friend, whether you rage or weep. But you must not give in to despair or apathy. Guard yourself against these, my friend."

Silence for ten heartbeats. "It is sage advice, old friend, and I take it to heart. I will rage and weep, perhaps both at once, but despair? Never. I will see Exie avenged. If we escape this present situation with our lives, I will make it my purpose to absolutely eradicate these beastmen. I will carve such a swathe of destruction through Arden Vul that they will sing about it when our bones have long since turned to powder."

A deep, resonant voice booms thunderously. "Bring me the Interlopers!" Aele and Dorn get to their feet as the door to their impromptu holding cell is opened. A man stands there — except, this is no man. This may once have been a man, but what stands silhouetted in the door frame is now something ... other. A bloated, grey-skinned corpse, covered in shelf mushrooms and pulsing white mycelium, beckons the two adventurers to leave their pen. They smell of damp earth and rot is strong. Worms wriggle through the wet, glistening compacted compost innards of this Fungal Servant.

It beckons, but it does not speak — probably cannot.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Aele says, and he adjusts the mace looped through his belt as Dorn follows him. They find themselves in the incomprehensibly vast cavern that is home to an entire fungal forest. Everywhere, there are luminous lichens growing on stone walls, while black, rich loam compresses under each footfall.

"Follow!" a bass, commanding voice says. Dorn cuts his eyes to Aele and they share a look. They've both realized it at the same time: the voice is in their minds. This vegetative abomination hasn't spoken.

"Lead the way, Cabbage Patch," Dorn says, and as they fall in behind Sir Slime the priest comments, "You do a disservice to cabbages everywhere." They are led for a couple minutes down a path that parallels a stone wall, part of the massive cavern itself. The ambient light from mosses and other biolumenescent organisms is considerable, perhaps comparable to a full moon on the Surface. They pass toadstools tiny, man-sized, and huge. The thing that leads them turns, taking a path through a forest of mushrooms a dozen feet high. Vines growing along the ground visibly move and slither. Here and there are groups of brightly glowing shrooms in clumps, sucking nutrients from the loam.

They pass phalanxes of mushroom men, seven feet tall, marching in the opposite direction. "How did they knock us out, I wonder?" Dorn says. "Poison? I don't recall any darts or —"

"— spores, most likely," Aele answers. "I imagine that—"

—"Be silent!" commands the deep, resonant Voice.

Now they turn a bit more rightward, perhaps moving closer to the center of the great forest. A shambling mound of vegetation blocks the path ahead, but moves aside — with a sound like a felled tree being dragged through a cornfield — after a few seconds of non-verbal communication with the heroes' fungal tour guide.

The air in the Fungal Court is heavy, tasting of damp earth and an overwhelming, bittersweet musk of ripening spores. As Aele and Dorn are ushered into the central cavern, the bioluminescence shifts from the faint green of the tunnels to a throbbing, rhythmic violet.

Massive, shelf-like fungi protrude from the walls like the balconies of an opera house, packed with silent observers. Myconid guards clutch spears of sharpened obsidian, their caps scarred and weathered. Slumbering in the shadows are bloated, beetle-like monstrosities and shambling mounds of sentient lichen that pulse in time with the chamber’s light.

At the center of the hall, rising from a throne of calcified puffballs, is The Sovereign. It is a titan of decay, standing twelve feet tall with a cap that spans the width of a small cottage. Its "skin" is a mosaic of peeling ivory and deep indigo veins, and long, translucent filaments drift from its gills like a ghostly beard.

The violet pulse of the chamber intensifies as Dorn and Aele are brought to the center of the court.

The Sovereign does not move, yet as the heroes approach, a pressurized hum vibrates behind their eyes—not a sound, but a psychic weight.

"Soft-fleshed walkers... you bring the heat of the sun-lit world into the cool silence of my garden. I am the Root, the Rot, and the Rebirth. You stand in the heart of the Mycelium. Speak your intent, before your breath becomes the very air my children drink."

Aele catches Dorn's eyes and the priest very deliberately draws forth the silvered ankh of Thoth, laying a finger aside his nose with a wink that communicates 'follow suit...

The rhythmic thrum in their skulls grows sharper as the heroes are forced to a halt by their myconid escort. To the left and right, the beastmen they were battling only hours ago are no longer the frenzied predators Dorn remembers. They are lashed to pillars of giant stalk-wood by thick, emerald-green vines that pulse with a sickening, peristaltic rhythm. The beastmen strain, their muscles bulging, but the flora holds with the strength of iron.

Above them, small, pale myconids drift like nursing ghosts, dusting the captives with a fine, shimmering powder. The Sovereign looks down at the struggling creatures with a cold, detached paternalism.

The Sovereign’s psychic projection shifts from a hum to a resonant, echoing baritone that smells of ancient papyrus and desert dust.

"Do not envy them, little strays. They are the fortunate ones. Their chaos will be pruned; their discordant screams will soon join the harmonious silence of the Great Compost. They go to a higher purpose—to serve the Root as they never could serve themselves."

The massive entity leans forward, its translucent filaments brushing the floor.

"You woke only because I willed it. You breathe only because I allow it. I am the end of all things, yet I remember the beginning. I remember the gilded halls of the Great River and the secrets of the Ibis. I am Lycandrus, returned from the soil of ages."

The psychic weight becomes a crushing pressure, and the heroes are forced to their knees.

"Give me your names, your purpose, and your absolute fealty. Tell me why I should not plant you alongside these beasts and watch you bloom in the dark."

Aele catches Dorn's eye once more before turning his attention to The Sovereign. The priest holds forth the silver ankh, cutting his eyes briefly to ensure Dorn is doing the same. "Great Lycandrus, we are humble acolytes of Thoth, assaulted without provocation as we sought to make pilgrimage to this hallowed forest, to offer our obeisance to you."

Ask the Dice: How well do the heroes sell this? Each burns a Fortune Point to gain advantage as they make checks against their Charisma. Answer: They sell it more than adequately. Dorn rolled his Charisma score, but Aele got a 4. Very convincing.

The crushing pressure of the telepathy immediately lifts. The Sovereign’s "voice" loses its abrasive edge, replaced by a haunting, scholarly curiosity. "We are pleased that you sought to make this pilgrimage. As Thoth's chief servant, I foreknew your peril as I saw you journeying from afar. Long have the servants of Thoth been menaced by the bestial once-men. Not to worry. They are being processed and will soon join my numerous Spore Servants. Long have these vermin troubled us."

Aele lets his head hang forward, eyes downcast in obeissance. Then, he slowly draws forth the necklace from beneath his hauberk, displaying the holy symbol of Thoth. "I have served Thoth for twenty seasons of the sunlit world. But this youngling by my side is a recent convert. He is overcome by your august presence, which accounts for his lack of speech. Great Lycandrus, your servant humbly requests your leave to briefly depart this hallowed place in order to take our fallen comerade to the Surface. We wish to resupply and then return to this realm, to fight your enemies."

The Sovereign’s massive, fungal bulk tremors, its cap tilting back as if gasping for air it does not need. The numerous myconid guards lower their obsidian spears in a synchronized, swaying motion.

The voice of The Sovereign is no longer a command; it is a trembling, ancient resonance, heavy with the weight of centuries.

"The Ibis... the Quill... the Infinite Librarian. That sigil... it is a spark of the Great Sun in this tomb of rot. Aele, is it? You carry the mark of the Master of Words. I see the ink of the Thothian scrolls in the marrow of your soul. Forgive the coldness of my welcome; the soil has made me forget the warmth of the temple fires."

The Sovereign—the spirit of Lycandrus—lowers its head in a slow, creaking bow.

"We are kin in the Great Work, Priest. You serve the Knowledge that creates; I serve the Knowledge that decomposes. Both are written in the Ledger of Thoth. Your request is granted. But first, while my servants collect valuables of the beastmen for your use, join me in the Ceremony of Decay."

As the Sovereign addresses Aele with newfound warmth, he gestures dismissively toward the bound beastmen. The "grace" he has shown the heroes is not extended to them.

The transformation is a slow, agonizing symphony of biological horror. The emerald vines aren't just binding the beastmen; they are feeding. The heroes watch as hair-thin tendrils, white as bone, begin to burrow into the beastmen's tear ducts, nostrils, and ears.

One beastman tries to scream, but only a thick, grey cloud of spores escapes his throat. His jaw distends as a shelf of orange bracket fungi bursts through the skin of his neck, hardening into a natural collar.

Their muscles don't just weaken; they begin to slough beneath the skin. The outline of their ribcages shift as the internal organs are slowly digested and replaced by a dense, fibrous mycelium.

The frantic terror in their eyes begins to glaze over, replaced by a dull, rhythmic violet glow. Their twitching limbs settle into a terrifying, mechanical stillness. They are no longer creatures of flesh and blood; they are becoming living compost, their nervous systems hijacked by the Sovereign’s hive-mind.

"Do not look away, Priest," Lycandrus whispers. "Observe the ultimate library. Their memories, their strengths, their very essence... it is all being indexed into the Forest. Nothing is lost. It is merely... archived."

Lycandrus leans his massive, shelf-like cap toward Aele and Dorn, the movement sounding like the rustle of ancient parchment. The violet light in the chamber dims, focusing into a tight, conspiratorial amber glow around the heroes.

The Sovereign’s psychic voice drops to a dry, raspy whisper, the mental equivalent of a scroll being unrolled for the first time in millennia.

"Because you carry the Ibis, I will give you a truth that the mindless crawlers of these halls have forgotten. You seek the deeper descents, do you not? You seek the heart of Arden Vul, where the stone remembers the stars."

He extends a long, spindly finger—more a cluster of rootlets than a hand—pointing toward the damp, crumbling floor of the court.

"Below us, where the Great Pipe heaves the breath of the mountain, there lies the Hall of Records. The beastmen and the scavengers think it a tomb, but it is a vault. There is a stone door there, marked with the Feather of Truth. It will not open for blood, nor for iron."

The Sovereign reaches into a cavity in his own chest—a hollow filled with a glowing, bioluminescent nectar—and withdraws a small, calcified object. It is a fossilized scarab, turned to translucent green agate by the fungal enzymes. He offers it to Aele.

"Take this. It is a fragment of my own calcified heart from the life before. When you reach the door of the Hall, place this within the eye of the Ibis carved upon the lintel. It will recognize the resonance of a true Priest of Thoth. But heed me, Aele: the secrets within are guarded by those who died refusing to forget. They may not recognize your face, even if they recognize your god.

He places the scarab gently in to Aele's quivering, outstretched palm. "Here, guard it well, loyal priest. My servants will escort you to a place where you can leave these Depths. Come to me upon your return, that I may learn of recent happenings in the Surface world and my task you with a special mission for Thoth."

Only a few hours later, Dorn and Aele stand in Burdock's Vale. They have fashioned a travois to bear Exie's corpse. They set out for Newmarket, each heeding the worries and broodings of a sorrow-laden heart.

P.S. this info not kept online, just locally: it's likely that the heroes at some point will use the Heart-Seed Scarab to access the Hall of Cylinders (i.e., the Hall of Records). The Sovereign will certainly attempt to manipulate them into doing so, for he cannot breach that location himself.

It is the fifteenth day since Dorn and Exie entered the tunnel known as Arden's Mouth and took it to a secret debouchment within the ruins of Arden Vul atop a 1,500 foot cliff overlooking Burdock's Valley. The party of three heroes are ensconced with the Thothian high priest, Thalas, in a strategy session.

"So, let me get this straight," Exie says, leaning over a battlemap and speaking to Thalas. "You fear that you have a Setite spy among your ranks, and so you have therefore kept this 'Heartstone Run' mission, as you call it, secret from others in the Enclave?"

"That is correct."

Dorn chimes in. "I see," he says, looking at the map. "And you expect an ambush here," he points a finger, "in the Hall of Pillars, which we must pass through to reach the Chamber of Rectitude. Any idea how large a force of cultists we may be facing?"

Thalas nods. "The Setites have been patrolling the westernmost halls for several weeks. Based on what we have observed, their patrols generally include a priest and three or four fighters. Any fighting will also draw the attention and the ire of the baboons, who lives in caves and ancient side chambers nearby. There is no telling how many of them might appear. But ... it will take them some time to get there."

"How do we get to the Chamber of Rectitude from the Hall of Pillars?" Aele asks. "I don't see any passages or doors marked on the map."

"There is a secret door on the west wall of the Hall of Pillars; you'll have to find it, but it's near the center of the west wall," Thalas says. "And the danger isn't that the Setite priests will already be there in the Chamber of Rectitude. Rather, they have a presence further west and south on this level from our own domain — but they are close — and most likely scrying on the Hall of Pillars to detect any activity there."

"All right," says Dorn. "Let's go with the assumption that we will be observed once we enter the Hall of Pillars, or even sooner. How much time do you think we'll have to find the secret door before a force of cultists arrive?"

"Maybe no more than a minute," Thalas answers. "A few seconds if you're unlucky, five ... ten minutes if you aren't."

Exie leans over the table, studying the map. "Is there any way to reach the Chamber of Rectitude without passing through the Hall of Pillars?"

"Not that I'm aware of," the high priest admits. "If there is a secret way, I'd sure like to know about it. In fact, it'd be worth another ... 300 imperials." Dorn's mind registers this: that'd be 3800 imperials!

"Okay," Dorn says, thinking strategically. "I'm a pretty good hand at finding traps and secret doors, and Exie is even better. One of us can focus on the western wall, seeking the secret door to the Chamber of Rectitude, while the other checks elsewhere for secret passages."

"No problem," says Exie. "I'll find the secret passage if there is one. But say we have bad luck, or underestimate the force that the cultists throw at us. Is there an escape route from the Hall of Pillars?"

"No," Thalas decides, "not unless there's a secret passage." He assesses the frowns on the heroes' faces. "Aele, I will teach you the ritual known as Thoth's Comfort. It will be a boon to your efforts, and a tool you will always have thenceforth. And, I will send Certracles, one of my temple guards, with you as an extra blade.

"We sure could use some healing potions," Exie says, looking pointedly at the high priest, while not mentioning that each of our three heroes currently has one such potion (1d8+1 restored).

Thalas grins. "I will have Setmose provide you a sealed letter that will authorize our quartermaster to release some potions. I'll also have him fit the two of you," he looks at Exie and Aele, "with bucklers, and he can find a hauberk for you, Aele."

"I am obliged," says Father Truemas.

Thalas nods. "When you have accessed the Chamber of Rectitude, you will see the great Carnelian stone on a pedestal in the center of the room." He hands Exie a purple sack. "This bag of coins has been carefully weighted to match that of the Stone. It is critical that you substitute the bag of coins immediately as you remove the Stone."

"Critical in what way?" Exie asks.

Thalas gazes at the petite fighter-thief for a few moments. "If you don't time it correctly, Bad Things Will Happen. To be honest, I don't remember the exact details. But Plutark was in charge of magical contingencies for that chamber, and he was always a thorough one."

"Was?" Aele queries.

The high priest nods. "Yes, he perished some years ago in a major confrontation between our forces and the Setite cultists. A very sad business, that."

"I don't know," Father Aele says, staring at his boots. He looks up, "Even with one of the Thothian warriors with us, we could still easily be outnumbered by Set cultists." The trio were conferring in a private chamber within the Thothian precinct of the third megadungeon level. It had been set aside for their use.

"And don't forget the baboons. Thalas said they're drawn to noise, so if combat ensues with cultists..." Exie adds.

Dorn queries, "But the baboons, aren't they the Thothians' pets?"

"Pets?" asks Aele, raising an eyebrow.

"Well ... guardian beasts," Dorn returns. "Won't they recognize you as a Thothian and then leave us alone?"

"Unfortunately, no," Aele answers. "There is a ritual that can be performed to bring them to heel, but in recent years as the Thothians have grown strong and confident in their holdings here, use of the ritual dropped off and the baboons were allowed to go feral."

"Well, that's not good," Dorn says, showing his mastery of the obvious. "But at least they'd pose a threat to the Set cultists too."

"Not necessarily," Aele counters. "The Setites could easily have some magical defense or way of controlling the creatures."

Exie intrudes, "Do the cultists actually have that kind of power? I thought the gods had fled Issenda centuries ago — except for Cromm, I mean."

Aele shakes his head, bemused. "Many of the things I thought I knew are being called into question. I've learned that Cromm, whom I have served for thirty years, is but an aspect of Thoth. Apparently, Set is alive and well, too. Were he not, the Thothians would already have crushed the cultists."

"Okay," Dorn decides. "The deck could be stacked against us, so we need to add a few cards of our own. Who fancies a jaunt to the Mushroom Caverns?"

The party has left the Thothian precinct on Level Three of Arden Vul behind and has angled a bit southeast through halls and passages, making for the great fungal forest.

Aele hands out small, thumb-sized silver ankhs in the likeness of a ibis. "Thalas' gift. No doubt he hopes to convert the two of you and induct you as acolytes. And although I figured that to be unlikely, they're made of silver, so..." *Each ankh is worth 5 golden imperials, on the Surface. "Keep them handy. The symbol of Thoth might avail us in various parts of Arden Vul."

As the trio leaves the immediate environs of the Thothian Enclave, they are forced to light a lantern due to the absence of burning torches in sconces. The area we'll be passing through on the way to the Fungal Forest is hotly contested. There's a three-way power struggle among the halflings, the beastmen, and what Thalas terms The Southern Transit."

"I thought the Thothian Enclave was the major power on this level," Exie says.

"They want to be," the priest agrees. "They could probably wipe out the halflings with a concerted effort, but the Set cultists and Deino's beastmen are altogether different."

"How so?" Dorn asks.

"The Beastmen claim the southern halls by ancestral right, the Halflings want to control the 'toll road' into the fungal forest to tax anyone passing through, and the Cult of Set views the entire level as their holy ground. Thalas tells me the Setites have a hidden temple somewhere on this level. Set's power must have waxed indeed if the Thothian High Priest cannot divine the location of the cult."

"You mentioned someone named Deino..." Dorn prompts.

Aele nods. "A powerful witch who is believed to have dwelt in Arden vul for more than thirteen decades. She rules the beastmen; some say she created them."

"They're not just native monsters?" Exie asks.

"Sources disagree," the priest explains, "but I remember reading in a history text a few years ago in Wynthia that an entire phalanx of imperial soldiers got trapped in Arden Vul when the old Archontean Occupation was being overthrown. Thalas says that those soldiers fell under the witch's power and that she transformed them into beast-men.

"Before we proceed further, let me enact a ritual." The priest pulls coins from a belt pouch: one golden imperial, one silver, and a copper piece. "This is called Thoth's Comfort." Holding the coins in his left hand, he deposits the copper piece into the upturned palm of his right hand, and intones, ""Thoth's most freely given gift, valued not nearly enough, is wisdom."

As his two companions watch, the copper piece dissolve into cupric ash in the priest's hand and blows away on an unseen, unfelt breeze. He then places the silver coin in his palm. "Thoth's eyes are upon his faithful. His words chime in their minds like the tinkling of silver bells." The silver piece undergoes the same transformation as did the copper.

Finally, Aele places the imperial gold coin in his right palm. "May Thoth bequeath the hidden knowledge to his servants. "O Logos En-Amenti, Thoth-Hermes, Psuche-Stratos—Vibrate the Hidden Key." The hair on the back of Dorn's neck stands up and Exie draws in her breath sharply. "Ah, you felt that, did you?" Aele asks. "The ritual is complete, and is hanging, requiring only a word or gesture from me to activate it."

"What happens when you do that?" Exie asks.

"When I trigger it, the three of us will draw Thoth's eye and blessing, briefly. We will gain in vitality, in enhanced puissance in defending ourselves, and will even enjoy somewhat enhanced resistance to harmful magics."

"Most impressive," Dorn comments. "Exie, scout ahead. We will wait here in the shadows for your return."

The woman is gone for five minutes, then ten. Then she is back, and reports, "there are some narrower passageways ahead. I thought I caught a glimpse of two figures wearing red robes. And there's a musky odor that intensies the further south you go."

Aele nods, "Beastmen. They're rank. The red-robed figures may have been Set cultists."

After a few seconds, Dorn says, "All right, light and vocal discipline here on in. Keep your eyes peeled." And the three set off southward.

Ask the Oracle Do we encounter foes before making it safely to the Mushroom Forest? Answer Yes, and** ... it's a sizable force.

---

Five minutes later, the party is ambushed. Thanks to Lexie's hissed warning, they aren't entirely surprised. Beastmen have surrounded the trio just as the three heroes have reached a four-way intersection of passages. Some of the beastmen carry lit torches. Dorn throws open the window on his own bullseye lantern. "Shit. There are a lot of them. No wonder it smells so rank."

Remember, our heroes benefitted from training during their recent Downtime and so have the following statistics (as Aele triggers the hanging ritual, each PC gets +1 to HP, AC, and Saves):

"Shinker's Scabies!" Exie curses, drawing her short sword. There are doors (see white rectangles on the battle map) along the hallway."

"Forget it," Aele cautions. They'll be traps in those rooms that they're hoping we'll flee headlong into."

"He's right," Dorn agrees. "Aele, stay out of direct melee as best you can, so that—"

—Dorn doesn't get to finish that thought before the nearest beast men charges and gores Exie with horns (8 damage, Exie drops to 12/20)

The lead goat-headed beastman to the northwest hurls a spear at Aele, but the priest bats it aside with his mace. Unfortunately, the spear's path is redirected straight into the left eye of Certracles, the Thothian temple fighter. He drops, stone cold dead.

And then the heroes' initiatives come up: Exie, Dorn, Aele — in that order. Exie whips a dagger from a leather sheath on her wrist and flings it all in one smooth motion (Fray die: 7 for 2-HD damage and the caprine is slain, a dagger in its eye). Eyeballs don't seem to be faring too well in this combat, so far.

Dorn takes a 5'-step and positions himself between Exie and the goat-headed beastman that is charging from the southeast. He waits one second, then almost a another full second, and then whips his serrated longsword upward in a sweeping arc, but the goatman blocks it with his shield.

Aele lobs a glob of eldritch fire at the beastman closing with him, but it manages to duck out of the way. The beastmen from the southwest and southeast passages time their approach, closing with Dorn simultaneously in order to flank him: the first scores a light hit (Dorn at 21/22) and the other misses.

Aele makes his non-Fray die attack with his mace but misses. Exie thrusts with her shortsword, but the distracting pain of her injuries makes her attack ineffectual. Dorn makes his non-Fray melee attack. No luck!

End of round. For the sake of clarity, I'll move the slain beastman to an unoccupied room even though it really lies at Exie's feet just northeast of her position.

Round 2: Exie has the best initiative, followed by Dorn, then Aele, then the beastmen.

Exie lashes out (Fray die) and injures her foe (beastman to NE of Exie has 1 HD remaining) and quaffs a healing potion with her regular action, regaining two hit points (now 14/20 Hp); Dorn lashes out (Fray die) injuring the beastman south of him, then pivots and overhand chops the head clean off of the beastman west of him and due south of the priest: "You're welcome!"

That's Dorn and Exie's round two actions. Aele summons a glob of holy fire and hurls it; it spatters against the beastman northwest of him, catching its fur afire and eliciting an animal cry of pain; then the priest follows up with an attack using his mace (sacrificing a Fortune Point to gain Advantage), and still manages to miss.

Now the beastmen continue to press the attack. Aele is assaulted from the northwest but the hauberk and buckler supplied by the Thothian Enclave saves him from harm. Exie likewise deflects the attack from her assailant. Dorn also escapes harm.

Round 3: Exie's Fray die slays another beastman, and she immediately draws her shortbow and fires off a quick shot to the northeast and misses. Dorn hits (1d8+5 yields 7, which converts to 2 HD damage: another is slain). Dorn has killed two foes in one round! Between his Fray die and hitting with his mace, Aele puts down the beastman that has been menacing him from the northwest.

Beastmen keep coming! The one attacking Aele misses. Exie narrowly avoids getting gored again, and Dorn gets attacked by two from opposite sides and somehow dodges one and parries the other! End of round three. Let's refresh the map:

Exie misses with her shortsword and is ineffectual with her Fray die. In contrast, Aele succeeds with both his Fray die and mace, killing another beastman. Dorn also slays another foe. A beastman attempts to head-butt Exie and she blocks with her shield. A beastman charges Dorn and he stops it with a perfectly timed kick that snaps its head back. End of round 4.

Round 5: the heroes all hit and injure another foe, and their foes all three fail to pierce the heroes' defenses.

Round 6: Exie slays another beastman and injures another. Dorn proves almost completely ineffectual this round, except for the saving grace that he avoids further injury.

Round 7: The heroes slay one more beastman apiece. These are the goat-headed. But down the hallways, the heroes catch a flickering glimpse, in the shadows, of a different kind of beastman. "Shit!" Exie cries, "they're softening us up for their elites!"

"Let them come," Dorn says equably, unperturbed.

Now the beastmen get their attacks: ha! The heroes defense is superb!

Let's refresh the map:

Aele's hauberk saves him from injury in round 7, because he sure as hell didn't get his shield up in time! He makes a mental note: practice with the shield. A larger, more powerful bovine beastman attacks Exie with a huge two-handed club. Exie narrowly avoids the club. Dorn is just showing off: he kills two caprine beastmen. Round 7 ends.

Round 8: Only a couple caprines left, but their more robust superiors are now closing in, and they are bigger, tougher. What's more, given their HD, the heroes' Fray dice cannot harm them. Here is where the battle grows even more serious, and our three heroes are all blooded already.

The bovine beastman takes out a chunk of limestone in the corridor but Exie successfully dodges. Exie ripostes and deals 2 HD damage. Dorn uses his Fray die and slays another caprine, then steps through and hacks at a bovine, inflicting 1 HD of injury. Aele uses his Fray die and slays an already injured caprine, then fumbles his mace as another caprine engages him. The caprine's attack gets blocked by Aele's shield. Exie takes 5 damage from a bovine, and Dorn holds his bovine at bay.

Round 9: Dorn takes a step northeast to close ranks with his friends. Exie almost connects with the injured bovine but it barely manages to evade her blade. Dorn fends off his foe's attack. Aele slays the last caprine with his Fray die, then he steps northeast and attacks the injured bovine beastman that has been menacing Exie. A hit! Aele slays it.

And with that, the remaining beastmen must check morale. They need to roll 9 or less on 2d6 or else choose to withdraw/flee. Roll result: 3; they continue fighting!

Let's update the map, then we'll begin round 10.

Round 10: Exie misses, Dorn too. Aele steps and attacks a bovine beastman and misses. Exie gets nailed for 6 damage and has 3 remaining hit points! Dorn evades his foe's attack, and Aele takes a hit and drops to 12/17 hp. Aele uses a Surge and Exie is healed of 3 damage (rises to 6/20). Exie quaffs a potion and regains a further 5 (rises to 11/20).

Round 11: The remaining foes are heartened when none of the heroes land a blow. However, witnessing Exie go from 'barely hanging on' to 'in fair shape' is disconcerting. They make another morale check: 2d6 result: 3. The fight continues!

Again, all three heroes miss! Exie gets hit and drops to 9 hp. Dorn gets hit for 4 and drops to 17/22. Aele gets hit for 4 and drops to 8 hp. Tough round for the heroes! It would seem the beastmen strategy is working: throw cannon fodder at these new interlopers, then finish them off once they've been tenderized.

The feline beastmen has slinked in and rakes Exie for 1 point, dropping her to 8 hp. She takes her remaining healing potion and only regains 2 hp (now at 10). Aele regains 4 (back to 16/17).

Round 12: Exie attacks the bovine NW of her. Misses. Dorn attacks the bovine beastman SW of him. Misses! Aele burns a Surge, sending holy fire into the beastman to the southeast. His Fray does another 1 HD of damage. The bovine has 1/4 HD remaining. Exie gets hit by a bovine for 4 (drops her to 6/20). She takes 8 more from the feline beastman, killing her! Dorn gets hit by one of two bovines attacking him, taking 7 and dropping to 14/22. Fortunately, Aele is getting better with that shield. He blocks an attack.

Round 13: Exie is dead. Aele misses with his mace but slays his foe with holy fire. Dorn begins to make an attack, having resigned himself to death but believing at least that it will result in reunification with Exodore — but his foe backs away. From another quarter Dorn and Aele hear the feline beastman roar, and then all of the remaining beastmen are withdrawing. New ... creatures have arrived, 7 feet tall myconids, looking like nothing so much as bipedal, humanoid mushroom-men!

Dorn detects an odor of spices laid atop vegetative rot. His sword falls from his grasp and he turns his head with great effort to check on Aele. The priest has already dropped, overcome. Dorn unwillingly follows suit.

Die Result	Actor	Thread
1	Thalas	Collect 800 imperials from Thalas upon delivery
2	Roskelly	Extortionists
3	Sulla Tradewell	Who can be trusted in Arden Vul?
4	Giodon Thales	Bounty on Dorn's head
5	Aele	Forge relationships in Gosterwick

"We need a name," Exie opines. The trio are climbing the Long Stair, an arduous task but a necessary one, given that Nanefer isn't present to use one of her spells.

"We have names," supplies Aele.

"No!" Lexie says. "We need a name for our group."

"Of heroes?" asks Dorn over his shoulder as he continues to lead the climb. "I'm a wanted man, remember? I'd just as soon not advertise my presence. Giodon can send an assassin to the dungeon just as easily as anywhere else."

"Yes," says Aele. "In fact, you being killed while delving in such a dangerous site wouldn't really require any explanation or investigation."

"Fine, fine." Silence for a few minutes. Finally they attain the summit and begin making their way deeper into the ruins of Arden Vul. They pass by the spot where they had camped after exiting the tunnel almost two weeks ago. Further in, they pass by the Broken Head Inn. "We've really got to try this place. They say it's pretty good eating, and affordable," Exie says.

"I can always eat," Dorn says.

"Great!" Exie enthuses, and she heads toward the establishment while a bemused Aele shares a look with Dorn.

---

"I'll have the Goblin Flank Platter with house ale," Dorn orders. He hands his menu to the waiter, a short, tubby, swarthy-looking fellow. "You know what? Scratch the ale; give me Arden's Tears."

"A good choice, sir, and for the lady?"

Exie moues, studying the menu. "Er, I think I'll have the Orc Stew and a side of Kobold Toes. And a house ale. These are just catchy names, right? That's not really the sort of meat?" She looks pleadingly at the waiter.

"I am told the menu is precisely accurate," the waiter says, "and that we pay well for fresh meat delivered straight from the dungeon."

Aele clears his throat a bit uncomfortably and more loudly than is strictly necessary. "For me, the boiled greens and turnips with a melted cheese trencher. And ... do you have something stronger than the house ale but well south of the Arden's Tears?"

"That would be Vul's Decoction," the waiter says, writing on his pad, then looking up. "Very good. Anything else?"

"That's all, for now," Dorn says.

"For appetizer's we have Troglodyte Tongue, Honey-glazed Hobgoblin Heart, and—"

"No, thanks!" Dorn says, leaning forward.

With that, the waiter collects the other two menus and makes a hasty retreat.

---

Food polished off and each of our three heroes past their first drink, the group is finding recalling their recent carousing in Gosterwick quite funny. Their laughter doesn't go amiss. They are hardly the only well-lubricated patrons in the dining hall of the inn.

"I still cannot believe we spent 2700 imperials on a house!" Dorn says, only slightly impaired. The Arden's Tears beverage must be stout indeed, for Dorn has a considerable tolerance for alcohol.

"It's a lot, yes," Aele concurs. "But it's a three bedroom stone townhouse in the section of town that the mayor lives in; it will lend us a sheen of respectability, and will slowly pay for itself in the savings we realize by not paying to be put up at an inn everytime we take downtime".

"Right," Exie agrees. "Besides, the 2700 wouldn't do us any good if we got killed in the dungeon. This way, we funneled it back into the economy."

"We are saintly, indeed," agrees Aele, polishing off the last of his ale. "Although, in truth, the House of Coins and the loathsome, bloated Five Families members would support the economy even without our intervention."

"Careful," Dorn says, just loudly enough to be heard by his companions. "The Empire has many ears. Rameses may have a reputation for tolerance, but let's not test it."

---

Twenty minutes later the party leaves the Inn of the Broken Head, and moves toward the great pyramid. As they draw near, they see an Imperial Logothete accompanied by a pair of soldiers. "Wonderful," Dorn grates under his breath. "Be cool, and let me do the talking." For a few seconds, Dorn suspects someone overheard Aele's anti-government comment while they were dining at the Inn of the Broken Head. But then he realizes that it's highly unlikely they'd have had time to inform someone and arrange for Dorn and party to be questioned. I'm just paranoid because Giodon Thales has put a price on my head.

As the heroes draw close, the logothete with his conical hat of office greets them: "Hail, in the name of Emperor Rameses Kal-Leon III, Emperor of all Arandia — and soon, the world! I am his loyal servant, Keko of Narsileon." The soldiers on either side of the official wear heavy armor and plumed helmets and carry long spears, with short swords belted at their waists and a shield in their offhand.

"Greetings, Keko, Logothete of the Emperor. How may three loyal subjects be of service to the emperor?" The two soldiers are relaxed but watchful.

"I am visiting from Narsileon," Keko explains. "It has come to the emperor's attention that there is an element within the megadungeon that is extorting adventurers, siphoning off wealth before the emperor's tax can be levied." Here, he pauses, waiting for a response. Exie clears her throat but Dorn gently touches her arm to forestall her comments.

"We have reason to believe that this is indeed the case," Dorn replies. "Would that it were no so! Indeed, we are about to delve into the depths in the hope of finding long lost artifacts that attest to the greatness of Empire, even centuries ago. Should we be successful, there will undoubtedly be coinage as well. We hope to pay a double share of the tax, in support of Empire and its security, and will bring any artifacts to the House of Curation in Narsileon for appraisal."

There is silence for ten heartbeats. "You are well-spoken. Tell me, with whom do I have the pleasure of conversing?"

"I am Thrangir of Belaphas. My companions are Surret of Arcturus and Zorael of Archontos." Dorn cocks his head. "We have traveled far to see the fabled Halls of Arden Vul."

"Indeed you have," Keko agrees. "We are here on behalf of Thesmothete Thrales of Archontos. Our mandate is to survey those entering and exiting the ruins, and to then carry a detailed report back to Archontos. We are setting up a temporary base of operations in the basement of The Inn of the Broken Head. Please report to me there upon exiting the dungeon, that taxes may be assessed."

"Yes, of course," Dorn agrees. "We will hasten there. Is there aught else that we can do to serve the emperor and safeguard the empire?"

"Well, should you find any subversive individuals during your delving, particularly any individuals or groups that may be carrying historical imperial treasures away without license, the emperor has empowered me to reduce your treasure tax. Additionally, I seek information on the Cult of Set. The emperor has long known of a cabal practicing in the ruins. Our intelligence indicates the strength and numbers of the cult have swollen considerably in recent years. Any information you can supply on their activities, plans, strengths, and weaknesses would be well-rewarded."

Dorn bows his head respectfully, then again looks up at the logothete. "Indeed, we will be most vigilant and will seek to gather as many facts as we may. Long live the emperor!"

"Long live the Emperor!" the logothete and the two soldiers say in unison, and then the official dismisses the trio with a wave of his hand and watches as they continue toward the great pyramid.

---

Fifteen minutes later, the trio are within the pyramid and Aele has provided information allowing Exie to find and activate a hidden door. "It's good to have friends among the Thothians, apparently," Exie comments.

"Indeed," Aele agrees. "Thales put me onto this secret door. I would ask that you share this knowledge with no one else. This route will enable us to bypass the halfling thugs," the wizard-priest says with satisfaction.

"Of course," Dorn says. "Another thing. From now on, unless we are completely alone, we are Thrangir, Surret, and Zorael, of Belaphas, Arcturus, and Archontos, respectively. Got it?" Both indicate their assent.

Ask the Oracle Can the party make it to the Thothian Enclave without being waylaid? Answer: Yes.

---

Thalas sighs after Dorn has given a summary of recent events. "Well," Thalas says, welcome back, Thrangir, Surret, and Zorael." He runs a hand over the tome that the party has delivered from Astableon. "Here is the remainder of your delivery payment." Four sacks of gold imperials sit in the center of the table, each about twenty pounds.

"I don't look forward to lugging that around," Exie says.

"Why not leave it in the enclave's care until we're ready to leave?" Aele suggests.

"Suits me," says Dorn. Exie: "Me too."

"I appreciate the information about the logothete's presence. For the last couple of years we've expected Empire to set up shop, here. Too much wealth being carried away from the depths for them not to do so. I do appreciate the likelihood that they're concerned about the Cult of Set. I hope their concern is real and not just political. The Cult has grown powerful. They have even made some inroads into the westernmost portion of this level. We are fortunate indeed to have magical guardians and potent magic. We want their toe-hold on this level removed."

"Suggestion..." Aele interjects. "We placate the logothete by shallow, if not deep, cooperation. If the empire is again taking an interest in Arden Vul, then we should take whatever measures we can to cause them to be well-disposed toward you and your priests, Thalas."

"You mean our priests," the high priest corrects. "Yes, we must be careful going forward. I have a quest for the three of you if you're interested. In halls west of here, there is a very large hall with a baboon statue that is three stories tall. It makes the other statue you've already encountered look like a child."

"We're with you so far," says Exie.

Thalas walks over and opens the door into the adjoining antechamber. Satisfied that it is unoccupied, he closes the door and says, "We have not used that statue in a long while, almost two decades. But now we are afraid that the patrols of Set cultists, which keep roaming wider and wider, will grow brazen enough to try to claim the Hall of the Great Statue and ferret out its secrets.

"We've not needed the statue because the enclave's leadership has a means of teleporting into the Great Library beneath the statue. But it now looks like it is only a matter of time before knowledge and use of the statue will resurface. That's where I'm hoping that you can help.

"I know the ancient Archontean pass phrase that must be spoken aloud to activate the statue. However, there is another component required to safely activate the statue, a long-lost carnelian stone the size of a man's fist. The Heartstone. I know it's location." Aele's eyes widen at mention of the Library.

Dorn asks, "You want us to recover the Heartstone, so that in combining it with your knowledge of a passphrase, you will have control of the giant statue. I heard gossip in the Inn of the Broken Head that there's a militant group of beastmen on this level too, who are in conflict with the Cult of Set. If that's the case, can't you just figure out a way to play the two groups against each other?"

Thalas grins, "Exactly, and that's where you come in; it's very dangerous, but if it leads to the Enclave controlling the great statue, I'll pay you three thousand imperials."

"Thirty-five hundred," Dorn counters.

"Agreed!" And Thalas chuckles, pleased.

Two days have passed, during which time our heroes have taken advantage of the hospitality of the small contingent of Thothian Wizard-Priests on Arden Vul's third level. Aele has been almost beside himself with revelatory awe: first he has learned that Thoth and Cromm are in fact the same deity. He still has not gotten a satisfactory answer to some of his questions, but he has some direction now as to where those answers might be found.

Why can't Surface races cast spells? Why are enchantments under the sky erased or suppressed, while those in Underearth are intact, and more potent the deeper one descends? While Dorn and Exie have hunted stirges and giant rats, and Sulla has left to report in to Roskelly, Aele has spent long hours in conversation with multiple Wizard-Priests, but none moreso than with Thalas, the high priest of the Thothian Enclave.

The high priest Thalas and Nanefer the Arcanist have taken a meal with Dorn, Exie, Aele, and Sulla, and now drink a wine found a decade ago in one of the crypts that the enclave discovered — a bottle with an estimated age of 200 to 225 years! It is a fruity, heady delight.

Thalas has traded upon Dorn's not well-concealed desire to travel to Gosterwick for downtime by describing a contact he has in the town, one Astableon the Scribe. "I would like for you to deliver a book to Astableon in Gosterwick. He will have a package to send back to me in your care. If you agree, I will provide one thousand imperials up front if you will agree to this task, and another thousand when you deliver the package to me."

Aele sits forward eagerly, but holds his tongue and looks to Dorn.

"I am not opposed to the idea," Dorn says, thoughtfully. And I am damn sure not opposed to being paid. "But how will we get out of the dungeon without the halflings interferring?"

"I can teleport you to the base of the Great Stairs, and from there you can make your way overland to Gosterwick."

Exie leans forward, "I got all of that except ... teleport..."

Nanefer sips wine. "It is an ancient way to use magic called a spell. Their use has been lost for centuries on the Surface, but here in the Deep Down, I have rediscovered them. By using one of these spells, I can instantaneously move you to the valley floor."

Thalas adds, "Sulla, we are putting much trust in you to be speaking so freely of 'the halflings' in your presence. Please ensure that our trust has not been misplaced."

"Oh, it hasn't been, believe me," Sulla declares. "I just wish that I could go with you," she says, looking wistfully at Father Aele Truemas, who quickly blushes scarlet, and diverts his gaze to intense scrutiny of the food on his plate.

"Perhaps someday my research will find a way to make that possible," says Nanefer. "As things stand right now, though, you'd be dead within a few days of being exposed on the Surface."

---

Twelve hours later, the trio are ensconsed at the Inn of the Lost Archon in Gosterwick. After a meal, they travel to The Silver Scroll bookstore and are greeted by a middle-aged, short, wizened man with gray hair and a goatee.

"Welcome to the Silver Scroll," he says, and his voice is surprisingly deep. "Please feel free to browse, or ask about anything of particular interest." Dorn spends a minute gazing at scrolls and books. "This is quite the collection you have here. I have always been a man of action rather than of letters, but of late I've come to believe that the pen marks a deeper truth..."

Astableon doesn't seem to react. He putters around the bookstore a a couple minutes, then moves to the door, locks it, and flips over a sign so that any customers who approach will read it: "I'll Open Again Soon!"

"Well," the wiry scholar says after joining the others at one of the bookshelves, "I certainly agree. The pen does mark a deeper truth. And words are more than audible wastes of breath. Thoth himself didn't cast spells; he penned them in the ink of the celestial effluvium. How can a simple bookstore owner be of service?"

Exie removes her backpack, opens it, and pulls forth a bundle wrapped in purple cloth. Astableon accepts the package and moves to the nearby counter where he unwraps it and runs a finger over the leather binding of a sizeable tome. "Oh, how wonderful! This is a historical text called The Lost Celestial Ephemeris. It is a text that links the stellar movements to historical events. Since I don't know you, I can only guess that you accepted this pickup and delivery task for the Thothian priesthood in Arden Vul." His tone does not frame this in the interrogative.

"You guess correctly," Aele confirms. "I am Aele Truemas, a priest of Cro— of Thoth."

"Well!" exclaims Astablion, hands coming together before his chest, palms pressured together as if that is the only thing preventing him from bursting from enthusiasm. "It has been years since Thoth gained a priest." He retrieves a locked wooden box from beneath a counter and hands it over to Aele. "Thalas will have told you to deliver the package to me, and that I would send him something back with you, in turn."

Aele accepts. "Yes, exactly so." The priest pauses, then says, "We may be in Gosterwick for a few days, not much more than a week, I imagine. I trust that short delay will not prove problematic in this item's delivery?"

"No, indeed," the sage says. "He's been waiting on this for several weeks. A few more days shouldn't matter. But I do have a quest for you, if you're interested."

Exie turns from the bookshelf. "Let's hear it."

"Some years ago, I lost a notebook while in Arden Vul. If you can find it and return it to me, I will pay fifteen hundred gold imperials. It is bound in a monster hide that is rough to the touch and black in color. It bears the initials A.G.H. in silver inlaid on the spine of the notebook, and it will be found in pristine condition — clean and dry and intact, regardless of the environment from which you retrieve it. You should not attempt to open it but should return it to me at your earliest convenience after finding it."

Dorn has been listening intently and now turns from looking out a window. "Is the notebook rightfully yours, and are there or could there be others seeking it — others with whom we might ... come into conflict?"

Astableon smiles. "You are a shrewd customer. That bodes well, for it will make you more careful in the dungeon. Yes, the journal is rightfully my property. And it could possibly bring risk upon you if you accept this quest. More than a dozen years ago, I found a way, alchemically, to extend life. The notebook contains the details of my research methodology and how to produce the needed elixir. Somehow, word spread — though I am most discrete. A necromancer nearly destroyed me and the other members of the Dawnstriders; two of us were killed, and the rest of us escaped — barely.

So yes, you could be putting yourself at risk; that is, more particular risk than the general risk you're already taking by entering Arden Vul at all."

Dorn nods, and mentally tables three other questions that have come to mind. He glances at his companions to read their body language. After a moment, Dorn says, "We'd stand a better chance of success if you could provide some of those fifteen-hundred imperials to us up front for provisioning..."

---

The party has enough XP from (a) combats in Arden Vul and from fulfilling the quest that Thalas gave them, to advance to 2nd level. The 1,000 imperials they collected from Thalas before departing the megadungeon brought total party wealth to 2,716 imperials. Astableon wound up fronting them 700 of the promised 1,500 imperials, bringing party wealth to 3,416 gp.

Let's roll Dorn's additional hitpoints, using Advantage. A pair of d10's, the results come up 2 and 8. That's 8 new hit points added to his previous maximum of 12, but don't forget to add 2 more for his Constitution bonus; for a new HP max hit points of 22.

Having already taken Fleet at level 1 (for improved Initiative), Dorn's choice for a free Knack at level 2 is Great Strike, which gives +1 to all weapon damage.

Saving throws won't change until level 3.

Base Attack Bonus improves to +1. Damage with unspecialized weapons are +3 damage.

Longsword (specialized) is now +5 to-hit and +5 to damage.

And that's it for Dorn's leveling.

---

I rolled with Advantage for Exodore's additional hit points, and got a 5 and a 7. She should have had 13 hp at first level (max the d10 +3 more for Knack: Tough). I had mistakenly given Exie a d8 instead of the appropriate d10 for a Gestalt Fighter-Thief; therefore, max hit points increase from 13 to 20. Not too shabby.

I'd also erred on Exie's to-hit, by failing to assign weapon specialization: short sword. At first level, given her stats, she'd have been +2 to hit and then improve that to +3 due to specialization. She'd have been +2 to damage, then another +2 for specialization. So her shortsword at level 01 should have been +3/+4. Gaining 2nd level improves her BAB +1, so now she is +4/+5 with shortsword — almost as good as Dorn's +5 to-hit +5 to-damage with his longsword.

Knack: Tough raises max hp at level 02 to 20. Knack: Resilience improves saving throws.

---

Initially, I wasn't entirely sure about keeping Aele, but I've used Ewen Cluney's Entanglements [tool][6] and have a good vibe for the wizard-priest now. For Aele's 2nd level additional hit points, I rolled with Advantage and got 3 and 5, so max 2nd level HP are 17.

---

Full stats for all three player-characters are here.

During their week of downtime in Gosterwick, Dorn and Exie pair off as sparring partners, training hard to stay in form.

Exie makes a 2d6 check at the end of the week. She is a fighter-gestalt, so will add 1/3 of her level (rounded up) as a bonus — that comes to a +1. And since she has a partner (Dorn), she gets another +1. She rolls 2d6+2 and gets a total of 10. Woohoo! Exie chooses to benefit from a bonus of one point to her armor class, to-hit rolls, and damage rolls until her next downtime. This will mean that functionally Exie will be:

AC 15, +5 to hit with shortsword, and shortsword damage will be 1d6+6. Sweet! Let's see how Dorn fares:

He rolls 2d6+2 and the result is a 9; not quite as nice, but it entitles him to pick two benefits, and he chooses a bonus of one point to his AC and his to-hit rolls until his next downtime. This means that functionally Dorn will be:

AC 17, +6 to hit with his longsword, and damage will remain 1d8+5:

Aele does the wizardly/priestly equivalent of combat sparring to stay in top form. He studies at the Gosterwick library, meditates at the temple of Cromm, and prays for guidance and protection in the trials that lie ahead for the party. Let's see how he comes out at the end of the week of downtime. He is in good standing with Cromm-Thoth, for a +1 modifier.

He rolls 2d6+1 and gets a total of 12. Rock on, Aele! He may choose three of the following to benefit from until his next downtime:

• +2 to all saving throws of a particular sort (Poly, Breath, etc.)
• +1 to all saving throws
• +1 to any rolled Surges
• +1 to turn/destroy undead
• +1 bonus to AC

He chooses (a) +1 to all saving throws, (b) +2 to Spell saves, and +1 to Surges. This will mean that Aele's functional saving throws till the next downtime will be:

Poison 13(11), Breath 14, Poly 12(10), Spell 11(9), Magic Item 10(8)

Summary:

Dorn: AC 17; +6 to hit with longsword and deals 1d8+5
Exie: AC 15; +5 to hit with shortsword and deals 1d6+6
Aele: Poison 13(11), Breath 14, Poly 12(10), Spell 11(9), Magic Item 10(8)

I'll add the above info at the top of the next Actual Play write-up as PCs Under Downtime Perks. Ah, level 2. It really is more than twice as nice as level 1. See you in the next Actual Play!

It's the second day that Dorn, Exie, and Aele have been together. They have arrived on Level 3 of Arden Vul and are currently dealing with a shakedown attempt by Phlebotomas' halfling thugs.

Dorn has just shot his mouth off to Roskelly: ""How do you do? Where are your parents? We'll speak to them." There is a non-zero chance that one or more thugs will fire on him for this insult. Oracle says nah.

"Ah, the brash adventurer speaks," says Rosk. "My fellows and I are halflings, as I think you likely know quite well. My fellow halflings, if the bald one here doesn't tame his salty tongue, fill him full of crossbow quarrels. Now, back to business. Nobody goes any further into Arden Vul without an explorer's license, and that is twenty-five gold coins for each of you. Oh, and if you want to use this route to exit the dungeon — assuming you live long enough to exit &mash; there is a tariff of 10% on your treasure haul."

Options: considering what coinage Dorn has stolen from the Blackfist Mercs, not to mention the treasure the party acquired from the goblins, the party can afford this. Dorn is seething, Exie is anxious, and Aele's expression denotes thoughtfulness.

"How long are the explorers' licenses valid?" Exie asks.

"Why, until the next time we meet each other, of course," says Rosk with an evil grin.

"We cannot possibly afford that," Aele lies. "But I am a priest of Cromm. If you have any vials or flasks, fill them with water and I will turn them into healing potions."

"A generous offer," Rosk concedes, "and healing potions are in very high demand here. However, given the loss of immediate income, we would have to charge you 20% of the value or any treasure you may seek to exit Arden Vul with; is that acceptable? But I will first need proof that you can do what you claim." He produces a canteen of water, and an empty vial, then fills the vial with water.

Moving up to the priest, he hands him the vial and says, "Let me see your hand." When Aele complies, the halfling takes his dagger and slices a small cut on the back of the priest's right hand. "Now, turn this vial into a healing potion, then drink it."

"Very well," Aele agrees, taking the vial. "Cromm, aid your servant, that healing may come," he says, passing his other hand three times over the vial, which he then turns up and quaffes. After a couple seconds, Rosk sneers. "Aha! A charlatan, I se—"

"A few moments more," Aele advises. And then before everyone's eyes, his hand heals.

"Hmppf!" says Rosk. "Very well, then. Three vials of water turned into healing potions, and we will let you pass. Only you owe us 20% of the monetary value of any treasure when you come through our territory to leave the dungeon. And believe me, this is the only safe ingress and egress."

"Twenty percent the first time we come back through here, then the standard ten percent after that. You said yourself that healing potions are in high demand," Exie counters.

"And I myself get to select our 20% cut," Rosk adds.

"Agreed on one condition," Dorn says. "If we cannot agree on what constitutes a twenty percent cut, you will accept one hundred gold coins instead of a cut."

"One hundred twenty five," Rosk counters.

"One hundred fifteen. Final offer," Dorn growls.

After the space of five hearbeats, Rosk says, "Agreed!" Coinage changes hands, and all three companions contribute their remaining carried wealth to come up with the agreed upon sum. Aele is now truly broke, but Exie manages to keep the 10-gp value blue quartz hidden. Dorn has a gold coin hidden in the tongue of each boot.

---

"Well, shit!" Dorn says, after the party has left Rosk and his halfling thugs behind. He begins to say more, but catches a hand movement by Lexie and dampens the amount of light coming from his lantern. Lantern Usage Check: 3 (all good). Lexie is no longer anywhere in sight, but then she comes back into the lantern light, frogmarching a halfling ahead of her, a dagger to the thug's back.

"Truce!" the halfling cries. "I mean you no harm. I am Sulla. Sulla Tradewell. Rosk sent me to offer my services as a guide. I know the dangers on this level pretty well, and I would welcome the chance to stretch my legs."

"And to report back to him later on everything we've said, everywhere we've gone," adds Exie coolly.

"He will ask, yes; and I will tell him, but a halfling facing the dangers of Arden Vul cannot remember every detail," she says, coyly. "And one who seeks more out of life than a base career of thuggery might prove herself loyal and valuable, no?"

Dorn looks from Sulla to Aele, and the latter arches an eyebrow to accentuate a shrug.

"What's to say you're not just trying to insert yourself into our group in order to lead us to our doom?" Exie asks.

"I understand your distrust. But given that distrust, would it not be better to have me with you where you can keep an eye on me, instead of me following your trail, which is what I must do if I do not join you? Give me three hours to prove my worth."

Dorn waits until Exie shares a look with him before saying, "All right. Performance is the prover. But you will fight for us, you will not abandon us, and you will have only half a share in any loot after we get first pick."

Sulla smiles. "Agreed! And here is a flask of oil for your lantern." She hands it over. The brings extra oil up to four lantern-refills.

Sulla apparently takes her duties as guide seriously: "If we encounter beastmen, don't freak out. Just stay calm and follow my lead."

"Calm, yes. But following? You'll have to prove yourself to us, first," Dorn says.

"Beastmen have shaggy fur and their heads usually resemble a wolf but sometimes might be a cat's head, or that of a ... what do you call them on the Surface? The four-legged creatures that produce milk?"

"Cows," Aele supplies.

"Hmm, no, not cows..."

"Goats," Exie says with confidence.

"Yes! The goatses, right. The beastmen have a truce with u— um, with Rosk, so we usually leave each other alone. But it is an uneasy truce. It would not take much for it to—"

"— 'go sideways', as we like to say on the Surface." Exie grins, simultaneously chiding herself and trying to hold on tightly to disliking this short woman.

"There could be goblins. We know some went out this morning on patrol. They probably will attack us if we come across any — the halflings and goblins have been ambushing each other a lot lately. They won't hesitate to kill me but would probably try to capture you, hoping to take prisoners to their king. And then there are skeletons, and sometimes blood-birds. We can probably take them. Now follow me," she says, and taking her torch she heads east.

---

You stand in a great hall carved out of the limestone. This two- or three-story hall is filled with broken pillars and strange statuary. "Follow carefully, there is much crumbling stone here." And she leads the heroes through the hall, west to east.

Exie approaches Dorn. "Let me borrow the lantern a minute? I need to relieve myself." True to her word, she is only gone a minute, and comes back with a cherubic smile and — though nobody notices — a slight bulge in her pack.

As the foursome reach the end of the great hall, Sulla says, "Okay, we can begin angling southeast and will wind up in the mushroom forest. It's a good source of food, but there are myconids. Or, if we move north, we will enter a section of the level that was once home to priests of Thoth. It has rotting murals, statues, and some crypts, most of which were looted long ago. So, what'll it be?"

"Nort—" Aele ejects.

"—Southeast!" both Dorn and Exie say speaking over Aele.

Dorn turns to his old friend. "Let's visit the forest and acquire food first, and maybe other useful things, then we'll head north and explore thoroughly."

Aele nods. "Makes sense."

---

Ask the (Playing Cards) Oracle: Does the party have an encounter enroute to the Mushroom Forest?

Result: Yes! — 9 skeletons suddenly converge on the party, drawn by its hateful positive energy! Hp 3, Ac 12, Atk +1 Dmg 1d4

Dorn shouts, "Aele, can you banish them!?"

"No, I'm not strong enough yet in my faith!" And with that, Aele pulls his mace from his belt and prepares to do battle.

"Shinker's Scabies!" Exie curses. "I don't have a blunt weapon!"

"Use the flat of your sword, like a club!" Sulla shouts, and then the skeletons are upon the heroes.

"Well shit on a slick stick," Dorn curses under his breath, limbering up his sword arm.

Rnd 1: Dorn misses, Exie hits and destroys a skeleton. Sulla misses. So does Aele. Three skeletons attack Dorn. The first one crits him for 4 damage (he's at 7/12 hp). The second and third fail to hurt Dorn. Two skeletons attack Aele: one of them hits him for 4 points (he's at 3/7 hp). Two attack Sulla, who dodges both attacks deftly. The remaining skeleton attacks Exie: a miss!

Rnd 2: Dorn misses, burns a Fortune Point to re-roll his attack, and misses a second time! He burns another FP and re-rolls: a crit, and that skeleton goes down! Exie's attack hits and another skeleton goes down. Sulla attacks, shattering a skeleton. Aele uses a Surge, 2d6 equals six, and directs that positive energy at one of the remaining skeletons, obliterating it. Four skeletons remain. Two hit Dorn, one critically, and staggers (1 hp left). One attacks Sulla, the other Exie. Their armor saves them.

Rnd 3: Dorn lashes out with fading strength, shrewdly targeting the skeleton north of Aele, destroying it. Exie targets the skeleton southwest of her position: a hit and she destroys it. Sulla steps north and helps Dorn down a healing potion. Dorn's eyes widen as his wounds close. And Aele uses his second Surge of the day to heal himself.

Rnd 4: The two remaining skeletons attack Dorn: a hit and a miss, and Dorn is 8/12 hp. His companions make quick work of those two remaining foes and combat ends.

PC	HP	Surges Left	FP Left
Dorn	8/12	n/a	1/3
Aele	7/7	1/3	3/3
Sulla	7/7	n/a	3/3
Exie	8/8	n/a	3/3

---

As the party scans nearby quickly, following defeating the skeletons, they luck out and happen upon a false section of flagstones slowly sliding into place again. "Block it. Don't let it close!" Sulla says forcefully. Aele manages to prevent it closing completely with his mace. Then his and Dorn's combined strength manage to reopen it. While they ensure it stays open, Exie and Sulla go down crumbling stone steps and lug up a heavy chest. Sulla gets a cut while assuming the risk of opening the chest. Luckily, if it once had poison on the trap, it has long since lost its potency.

Exie is smiling like a chesire cat when she emerges and explains, "There's a mechanism down there that can open the trapdoor. We can use this as a safe place to rest!"

"Test it!" Dorn says, peering down into the space while Aele tends to Sulla's cut. Sure enough, after letting the trapdoor completely close, Exie waits a full minute and then, faintly her voice can be heard, muffled even though she's yelling, "I'm going to try it now!" It works!

"Did you know this was here?" Dorn asks Sulla.

"No, Dorn. I swear, I did not. And I'm confident none of the other halflings know of it."

"It's a chance we'll have to take. Everybody inside," Dorn barks. "Let's rest, eat, get some sleep, and then make some plans..."

*Defeating skeletons, obtaining food, obtaining makeshift torch material, forging an ally in Sulla: 1,000 XP. No level-ups. Total treasure value in the chest:

---

Deep within the humid gloom of Arden Vul’s third level, the Mushroom Forest unfolds like a fever dream of alien biology. Towering, shelf-like caps of colossal Agarics reach toward the vaulted ceiling, their stalks thick as ancient oaks and slick with a pale, weeping nectar.

The air here is heavy and sweet, shimmering with a suspended haze of bioluminescent spores that drift like embers in colors of toxic violet and neon emerald. Underfoot, the floor is a spongy carpet of mycelium that sighs and yields with every step, occasionally rupturing to release puffs of pungent, mustard-colored gas.

A rhythmic, low-frequency hum vibrates through the damp air, seemingly pulsed from the gills of the largest fungi. Clusters of fist-sized puffballs line the cavern walls, glowing with a rhythmic internal light that mimics a slow, steady heartbeat. Every surface is coated in a fine, slippery dew, and the silence of the halls is replaced by the unsettling, wet "thwip" of distant fungal growths expanding in the dark.

The party stuffs their packs with edible shrooms, as well as some sort of greenish plant that might be Underworld asparagus or hogweed. And Sulla shows the party a dark, oily vine that can be wrapped around a stick or club and makes a decent torch.

Ask the oracle: does the party make it to the cliff top without mishap/encounter (somewhat likely)? Answer: No! Let's see what happens to Dorn, Exie, and Aele.

It's a goblin patrol! Ask the oracle: how many (2d4); Answer: 5. Great, we're outnumbered! Still, the tunnel isn't terribly wide. Exie gasps, "We've got company!" Light flares as Dorn unshutters his lantern fully. "Blinded goblins. Let's take advantage of that!" he yells as he sets his lantern down, rips his sword from his scabbard, and advances.

Checking initiatives, the goblins all have 1, Dorn is 3, Aele is 1, and Exie is 5. The goblins are AC 14 and +1 BAB with short swords. Exie gets an additional +1 bonus this round because the suddenly flaring bullseye lantern is painfully distracting to the goblins. Exie's normal full attack bonus is +2 (0 BAB plus a +2 mod for Dex 17). She'll get +3 now, and her d20 roll result is a 19, a strong hit. Damage is 1d6 with shortsword, then +2 bonus from Strength 16. Damage 1d6+2 results in 2. The southwesternmost goblin is now at 2/4 HP. Dorn, with the next best initiative, feints toward the goblin directly in front of him, but then thrusts his long sword at the goblin that Exie has injured. Dorn is specialized in the longsword, +4 to both hit and damage, and he'll get another +1 this round due to the sudden lantern light's effect. His attack roll vs AC 14 is only 11, however (a miss). Aele launches a Spirit Bolt (when a PC's iniative ties that of a non-boss foe, the PC acts fractionally faster) at the injured goblin, dealing it another 4 damage, killing it.

Now the goblins act. The one closest to Dorn attacks him. Dorn has AC 14 and the goblin gets +1 to hit. It's attack roll results in 20 (natural 19) — that's a hit, for 3 damage, dropping Dorn from 12 to 09 hp. A second rank goblin steps forward past the corpse of its slain fellow and attacks Exie, with a to-hit result of 16 versus her AC 14, a hit for (fortunately) just a single point of damage, dropping her to 7/8 hp. The remaining second rank goblin lunges past its fellow with a spear, attacking Dorn with a to-hit roll of 6 (a miss). The rear goblin doesn't have a projectile weapon, and is too far away to bring its spear to bear. Round ends:

Round 2. Exie leads the action, stabbing at her immediate foe: she misses. Dorn attacks his nearest foe, killing it, and another steps forward, taking it's place. That's 2 dead goblins and our heroes are only scratched. Rear goblin needs to make a morale roll, and remember that other than to-hit and saving throws, we want to roll low; it gets a result of 1 — cool as a cucumber. Aele launches another Spirit Bolt for 6 damage to the goblin menacing Exie, killing it, and giving the rearmost goblin an opening to step forward into the fray. A goblin attacks Dorn: miss! The other attacks Exie: a hit for 3 damage, dropping her to 4 hit points.

Round 3 begins. For map clarity, I'll hide the slain goblins. Also, I forgot to give Exie her specialization in short sword, and have corrected it.

Exie misses, rueing the cramped space. Dorn hits and kills his goblin, at which point the remaining goblin tries to turn and flee, only to be taken out by Aele's Spirit bolt.

End of Combat Report: Dorn at 9/12 hp, Exie at 4/8, Aele at 7/7. Five goblins slain. Total party XP gained: +75. Adding that to the 400 XP for negotiating past the ropers, total party XP now is at 475. Chaos Factor drops back to 5. Danger Dice pool now at 3. Lantern usage die d10, Aele's remaining daily Surges: 0/3. Let's see if the goblins have any valuables: 50 cp and 210 sp, plus a blue quartz worth 10 gp.

Our three heroes patch one another up as best they can, deciding to forego using the only three healing potions that Aele is carrying. Exie 5/8, Dorn 10/12, Aele 7/7.

Ask the oracle: any more encounters between here and cliff top (Very Unlikely)? Answer: No. Good deal! They make it to the top of the cliff and begin to make camp.

"Keep an eye peeled for goblins. Those in the tunnel may not have been alone," Dorn says, pounding a tent peg into the hard clay.

Aele glances skyward. "It'll be dark soon, and it will snow tonight."

"How do you do that?" Dorn asks, shaking his head.

"Do what?" Exie inquires.

"Korvin has the touch when it comes to weather. He's never wrong."

"One of my many talents," the wizard-priest says as he continues setting up tinder and kindling for a fire.

---

Not long after, the three are sitting around a crackling fire. "So who keeps firewood stocked here on the tree-less cliff top?" Aele asks.

"There's a group out of Gosterwick that frequents this area in the Spring and Summer, catering to adventurers. They keep potable water, firewood, stuff like that in good supply up here as a courtesy for the Exarch's approval for them to conduct business here. There's a dungeon entrance nearby. This whole cliff-top was once the site of a thriving city," Dorn expounds.

"You hear that rushing sound?" Exie asks Aele? That's the Arden-Flow River waterfall about a three miles from here. The river flows out of the Dragon Peaks to the northeast."

"Oh, I've sent it from the Valley before," Aele says, nodding. "I've just never been up here on the clifftop."

Dorn nods. "I wish we had more of that wine you brought, Zorvin." The big balding man is using the priest's familiar name simply to encourage Exie to do the same — even though their long association enables Dorn to use 'Aele' without giving offense. "The tunnel we took from the Mouth of Arden travels underneath Burdock Valley, so we bypassed it entirely."

"I'd like to see it, someday," Exie says, breaking cured meat and other hardtack out of her pack, and passing it around.

"Oh, it is truly magificent," Zhorvin says. "The falls are two hundred yards across, and bounded by the Colossal Defenders — the largest statues in all of Arandia."

"I thought the river was named The Swift," Exie says.

"It is," Dorn replies, after the Falls, but upriver from there, it's called the Arden-Flow. Don't ask me: I didn't get consulted on that or a good many other choices." All three chuckle at this, and then Exie asks, "So tell me more about the area. I've not been more than a stone's throw from Prelm in the last decade."

Dorn continues, "The old Imperial Road runs along the east side of the Swift River and eventually leads to Newmarket. It is made of large rectangular cobblestones, and originally boasted curbs and drainage. Today it is largely overrun, cracked, with grasses and small shrubs growing out of it. Within five hundred feet of the Falls it is slick and treacherous."

Ask the Oracle: do the PCs have any overnight encounters on the plateau atop the cliff (unlikely, given that it's the cold season — but, then again, the goblins in the tunnel probably came from up here)? Answer: No.

The Next morning dawns windy and with three inches of snow as our companions emerge from their tents. They retrieve heavy woolen cloaks from their packs and don them, then quickly break camp. "We can eat while traveling," Dorn decides. "We're lucky to have been unbothered during the night." Each had spent four hours tending the fire and keeping a lookout.

"Which way?" Exie asks.

"Follow me," Dorn says, and the three head off across the plateau, the noise of the waterfall slowly receding behind them.

Some ten minutes later the trio draws up abruptly as a vast edifice seems to emerge loomingly from the blowing snow. The Pyramid of Thoth rises majestically amidst the surface ruins of Arden Vul, its ancient stone façade adorned with intricate carvings that depict hieroglyphs and celestial motifs. This monumental structure, dedicated to the god of light, healing, wisdom, magic and knowledge, serves as both a shrine and a gateway to the mysteries hidden within the megadungeon’s depths.

Surrounding the pyramid, the remnants of crumbled buildings and tangled vegetation hint at a once-thriving civilization drawn to the pyramid's allure. Dorn says, "The Temple of Thoth. Inside, adventurers discover a series of chambers filled with eerie silence, punctuated only by the soft echo of their footsteps on the granite floors."

"Oh my, you'd make a great tour guide," Exie says, slapping Dorn on the shoulder. Aele hasn't spoken. He's moved apart from the other two and is staring up at a massive statue of a baboon who holds a staff in its right hand. An ibis perches on the baboon's left shoulder. A carved necklace rings the baboon's neck, and from it an ankh depends. "It's Cromm," Aele breathes in awe.

"If you say so," Dorn says, stroking his chin stubble. "But scholars say this depicts the ancient god Thoth." Aele turns to his old friend. "I was trained that Thoth is one of the Twelve, and that he is no more. But this is his iconography — all of it. Strange, and now that I see it I recall an argument years ago among two factions of the temple. One insisted that Cromm is the ancient one, Thoth..."

"Well, you did say yesterday afternoon that you sought answers to questions, in joining us. Perhaps we'll learn more inside. Lead us in, Dorn."

The group picks its way around snow-covered statuary, fountains, other plinths and plaques, but none as large and imposing as towering statue of Cromm/Thoth. Just before they enter the great pyramid, Aele looks back at it, and it seems the baboon stares into his soul. The priest steadfastly ignores his hindbrain as it screams that the statue has turned to look at him.

Inside, Aele lights one of the bullseye lanterns and turns up its intensity, holding it aloft and close to the walls as he studies the glyphs. He moves slowly, reading carefully. Exie draws breath, perhaps to encourage haste, but Dorn lies a hand on her shoulder and when she looks at him, he shakes his head no, give the priest some time...

Here and there amid the carvings in the walls are chalk or charcoal writings, added centuries after the pyramid was constructed, some of them perhaps in just the last few years. One reads: "Beware the smithered fecking half-men!"; another "The secrets of the Paleologue will not remain hidden. Look to Gog for directions." As the group approaches the chute-link, time-worn stone steps to descend, Aele reads another piece of adventurer-penned graffiti: "The feathery blessing of Maat fends off the walkers! Do not ignore her soft offering!"

Aele shakes his head ruefully. "I wish I had brought parchment and charcoal, to record these, make rubbings of engravings..."

Dorn nods and says reassuringly, "Perhaps we can find such supplies within, and no doubt we will make trips to Gosterwick from time to time, to consult sages, to hopefully sell valuables, and to rest."

And to pray someone there can remove curses Exie thinks, but does not say aloud. Regretfully, the wizard-priest turns down his lantern as Dorn takes the lead with the other lantern. "Now, to find a way down," Dorn says. But ten minutes later no way downward has been found. Exie sees the tension on Dorn's face and wisely says nothing.

After a few moments, Aele says, "Oh, the statue, of course!" and leads his two curious companions back to the baboon and ibis statue. "I should have thought of this earlier. Cromm loves trap doors. Try moving the staff. Exie, try one leg. Dorn, help me with this free arm. One of the statues' arms moves grudgingly a few inches as both Dorn and Aele apply their strength, and a square section of pavement slides aside behind the statue, revealing a set of stairs leading downward.

They are steep and cramped. They descend more than thirty stories. The stairwell walls are blackened with soot, grime, and desecration. Little meaningful is left to decipher, and in many places the touch of living hands has deposited oils which over time has faded whatever writings may once have been here.

Finally exiting the staircase, the three find themselves in a long pillared hall. It is not well-lit, but further into the hall are four burning torches, placed on sconces about three feet above the floor. Dorn decreases the flame intensity in his lantern. Usage check on d10 results in 4. All three heroes are back to 3/3 Fortune Points. Overnight, they each regained 2 hit points: Ale 7/7, Dorn 12/12, Exie 7/8.

Dorn cautions, "Watch out. Others are here, or nearby," he says, nodding toward the torches.

Ask the Oracle: Is the party surprised by the three giant rats that attack from the shadows? Answer: Yes! Giant rats have been semi-trained/tamed by the halfling thugs here to act as guards and shock troops. Dorn and his companions have been set upon from all sides. And not only are they outnumbered, but they're also surprised. The rats are a single hit point each and inflict 1 damage on a hit, with a 10% chance of passing disease the first time a foe is bitten, and 5% each time thereafter. They have AC 12.

Dorn and Exie each get bitten once, and somehow Aele doesn't. Neither contracts disease.

On the first non-surprise round, Dorn kills a rat, as does Exie, but Aele misses with his mace, then the rats attack: everybody's getting bitten. Nobody contracts disease. First regular round is over. On to round 2: all three PCs miss with their attacks. Aele gets bitten twice more (no disease, though). Round 3: Dorn misses but Aele and Exie each kill a rat, and then the remaining three rats attack: Dorn gets bitten and drops to 8 hp; Aele gets hit with a critical for 2 damage and drops to 2 remaining hit points!

Round 4: Dorn kills a rat, Exie misses, and Aele cries out to Cromm (Thoth?) for healing and regains five hit points and is back at maximum health. Two rats remain. One bites Dorn for another point of damage and the other misses Aele. Round 5: Dorn misses, but Exie hits, killing the rat that attacked Dorn. Father Truemas kills the remaining rat, and the PCs are victorious!

Slow, mocking, languorous applause comes from the shadows, and then mutliple halflings come into view. One steps forward, though not within melee range. "Welcome friends, my name is Roskelly; just call me Rosk." The other halflings spread out, and have crossbows trained on the PCs.

Rosk continues, "I regret the loss of my pet rats, but it won't be difficult to acquire more. They're abundant on this level, and most fecund. Oh, some of you are bitten. My apologies. They aren't ... weren't ... housebroken. On behalf of my boss, welcome to Arden Vul. I just need to collect the appropriate fees and issue you your explorers' licenses. Let's see, there are three of you, so that comes to ... seventy-five gold coins."

Dorn draws himself to his full six feet and glares down at Rosk. "How do you do? Where are your parents? We'll speak to them."

It has been three hours since Dorn and Exie encountered Jorun Fielenghast and Vida Moinder in a large cavern of stalactites and stalagmites. Father Aele 'Zorvin' Truemas — a long-term friend of Dorn's — has stayed with them. They have eaten and are continuing to pass among themselves a two-quart wineskin. It is mostly now empty and has gone a long way toward easing tension, loosening tongues, and creating seeming warmth in the cool environs of the Deep Down.

Exie Swift has built a small fire with the limited fuel she carries. "That's it. That's all the kindling I brought with me. So enjoy the fire while you can. It may be a long time before we enjoy another."

"It's chilly," Father Zorvin Truemas acknowledges. "But at least it's not likely to get any colder: down here we'll not be subjected to the snowstorms that will soon plague the Exarchate." He warms his hands before the flames, and asks, "How well are we provisioned?"

Dorn grunts. "Well, we now have two bullseye lanterns. The one we brought with us is half-empty." Dorn has trimmed that lantern to a very low flame, given the illumination from the fire. "The other lantern is about three fourths full. And between the oil we brought and what you carried with you," he says to the priest, "we've enough to refuel each lantern three more times."

---

Lantern Fuel: Usage die d12

---

"We have two pounds of jerky, three pounds of cheese, and a dozen hard biscuits. That won't last the three of us long," Dorn says, then drinks again from the wineskin.

"Yeah, sorry. I just didn't think to pack more provisions," Zorvin says.

"It's okay," Exie shrugs. "Mobility is our first priority, so we can't be laden down. There's food to be had. Sometimes it can be hard to find, and sometimes when you do find it you have to take it away from someone ... or something..."

Dorn nods. "There just wasn't time and opportunity to plan this out better, else I'd have stashed us a cache or two of supplies in some of the side tunnels we've passed. I spent some time down here about eight years ago, just before I joined the Blackfists. If I remember right, another half hour walking will bring us out into an immense cavern that contains a giant pyramid."

"I'm glad you know a little about the place. I don't know squat about it," Exie admits.

Zorvin accepts the wineskin from the young woman and thinks for a moment after savoring another swallow. "I've not been down here before myself, but I have treated adventurers who have been here, over the years. Two main differences here in the Deep Down: the Lost Races are here, and magic is alive here."

"Lost races?" Exie clearly is intrigued.

Dorn nods, "When The Disaster happened, untold generations ago, magic on the surface was suppressed; at least, in Arandia it was. I don't know about the other continents. Something else happened, but nobody really knows exactly when. It may have been right at the time of the Great Disaster, or a good while later."

Father Zorvin takes up the tale, "Right. What we're pretty sure about is that many centuries ago, either as part of the Great Disaster or maybe a completely separate, unrelated event, something killed off the demi-races, those that were on the Surface, you understand? Halflings, aelves, dwarves."

"I've never met a halfling," Exie says. "Or an aelf or dwarf."

"The aelves may be extinct," Dorn said. "There's been no sightings for centuries. Or, some may have survived underground. The Glittering Canopy in the far northern Arandian forest known as Greatmoss is deserted. There are thousands of aelven skeletons. I saw parts of it as a recruit under Captain Ruven. Eery as fuck. I'm not superstitious, but I swear the place is haunted."

"Interesting," says Zorvin. "I never knew you'd been that far north."

"But magic isn't totally dead, right?" says Exie. "I mean, you can still heal people," she directs at Zorvin.

"Well, that's not magic, that's faith. Magic is a ... a force that some lucky few are able to wield as a tool — a very powerful tool. What the Church clergy are able to do is by the will of Cromm, who Sees All."

"Did the other gods die out, like the demi races?" Exie asks before tipping up and emptying the last of the wineskin into her mouth.

"Nobody knows." Zorvin leans closer to the fire, which is beginning to burn lower. "Cromm must know, but he is silent on this, and always has been. In fact, he gets downright cross when asked about it, according to the Book of the White in Karstbridge Cathedral."

Dorn finishes repacking his pack, adding, "If we survive long enough down here, we may learn some answers to at least some of these questions. Let's move on, now that we've eaten. Be on the lookout for any creatures, and be on guard. But remember, not everything down here has to be a foe. Some are just trying to survive and bothering nobody. Let's befriend them, when we can."

Exie nods in agreement, adding, "And kill the rest."

---

A few minutes later, the trio is another quarter mile down the Gullet, and perhaps four miles from Arden's Mouth, when there is a loud but distant rumble. All three freeze in midstride, regarding one another uncertainly.

"Probably falling rock," Dorn opines. "Sure hope it hasn't cut off our route downward." Exie shivers and adjusts the short bow on her back.

Lantern usage check on d12 (a 1-2 results in a reduction): 10. A die gets added to the Danger Pool. Danger Counter at 1.

After a thirty-count with no further rumbling noises, Dorn quietly says, "Let's continue. Take vanguard, Exie. You're the quietest."

---

Twenty minutes later the trio pauses at the opening to a large cavern. After listening silently for a full two minutes, Dorn speaks quietly, his words clear given the acoustics. "I'm going to turn up the lantern now and open the shutter. I want you to see what is in this cavern and listen very closely, because our lives depend on it."

Add a die to the Danger Pool. Danger Counter is now at two. Rolled a 1 on Lantern Usage. Die drops from d12 to d10.

"You see those stalagmites?" Dorn says, after sliding open the shutter on his lantern. "See how large they are in comparison to the stalactites hanging down from the ceiling? That's because they aren't stalagmites at all. They're monsters."

"And you know this, how?" asks Exie.

Dorn chuckles. "I'm forty years old, and I've only been in the Blackfists for the last eight years. Before that, I was an ... explorer. This is a location I explored about fifteen years back."

Aele Zhorvin add, "What he means is, he was smuggling goods through here from Prelm to Gosterwick."

"I never said I was only exploring," Dorn retorts. "These are 'ropers'. It is thought they are a side effect of The Disaster — one of many. If you look closely, you'll see what look like vines growing up around them. They're not vines, they're tentacles. And they are sticky as tripled tar. Aele, do you have a sharp blade?"

"Yes, of course." The priest-mage produces a belt knife.

Exie snorts, hands Aele an axe after untying it from her backpack. "Here, use this if it's needed."

"Needed? Surely we aren't going in there?"

Dorn looks at the other two. "When I was here years ago, there was a very narrow, unmarked safe passage through them. The problem is, it's been a long time. I believe they're taller than I recall, and that means their tentacles might be longer. I will try to thread through them. If I get entangled, I'm counting on you two cutting me free."

"Without getting entangled ourselves," Exie adds. "Nothing simpler."

"Are they vulnerable to fire?" the priest-mage asks.

"Good thinking," Dorn says. "Yes, highly vulnerable." He nods approval as Aele retrieves flammable oil flasks from his pack. "Just don't use them if you don't have to," Dorn adds. "I'm vulnerable to fire, too."

This calls for a good dose of luck, but also it's important to see if Dorn's memory is accurate. Let's make an Intelligence check against his INT 10: result is 11. That's a failure, meaning there is a 1 in 12 chance he remembers the safe path through the ropers wrongly. I rule that there's also a 1 in 12 chance the monsters tentacles have grown longer (they're abberant rock elementals, so growth is slow). So, d12 roll and let's hope to avoid a 1 or 2: result is 1. Shit! We'll sacrifice one of Dorn's Fortune Points to re-roll: result is 10. Whew! And Dorn's Fortune Points are 2 of 3 until after a long rest.

"I'll go next." Exie lights a torch. "Ae—" She catches herself as she's about to use his intimate name. That'd be okay for Dorn to do that, but she's just met the priest-mage. "Zhorvin, if this goes bad, you bust a flask of oil on me and the roper."

"You could burn to death!" the older man says, shocked. "Surely there's—"

"You're a priest of Cromm. Heal me. Besides, you've got healing potions, surely?"

"Three, only three." He sighs, nods his agreement. "I'll stand ready with the flasks." As long as Exie doesn't get a Critical Failure (a 20) on a Dexterity check: result is a 19 (that was close), but Exie makes it through. Aele is clearly unnerved as he watches the tentacles strain to reach the young woman ... and then she's through, safely, and snuffs out her torch, stepping closer to Dorn and the light of his lantern.

"Cromm, preserve your servant," Aele prays. Dex check result: 18 — not a Critical Failure. a tentacle makes contact with the mantle of his robe, and he lurches onward, tearing it and leaving a strip of cloth with the creature. "Whew!" he says, joining the two fighter-thieves.

"All right, good," Dorn assesses. "Just a short distance ahead, the tunnel forks. Going left leads to an underground lake, from which there is no known outlet — which isn't to say there isn't one someone underwater. We're going to take the right tunnel. It angles upward for three miles and exits atop the cliff of Arden Vul, fifteen hundred feet above Burdock's Valley. With any luck, we'll camp under the open stars tonight and then continue our journey tomorrow."