The Annals of Glen Forkovian
A wizard-priest may hang one additional simultaneous ritual at every odd level above 1st, to a maximum of five at level 09. Beyond that, the priest can learn more advanced, difficult rituals at increasing levels beyond 9th.
A priest of Thoth may invoke this ritual by holding first a copper piece, then a silver, and finally a gold piece in his hand and intoning the following:
Copper piece: "Thoth's most freely given gift, valued not nearly enough, is wisdom." The CP turns to metallic dust and blows away.
Silver piece: "Thoth's eyes are upon his faithful. His words chime in their minds like the tinkling of silver bells." The SP turns to metallic dust and blows away.
Gold piece: "May Thoth bequeath the hidden knowledge to his servants."
Follow the above with: "O Logos En-Amenti, Thoth-Hermes, Psuche-Stratos—Vibrate the Hidden Key."
Once enacted, this ritual hangs a magical effect that will be triggered when the priest either says or subvocalizes the following: "Eulogeson tou Doulous-sou, O Thoth-Amon."
Triggered, the hanging effect confers a +1 bonus to the priest and his allies' HP, AC, and Saving Throws for the next three minutes.
To invoke Thoth (the Thrice-Great Hermes), an Archontean priest would likely focus on the concepts of Logos (the Word), Ma’at (Balance), and the Moon.
The Invocation Phrase "O Logos En-Amenti, Thoth-Hermes, Psuche-Stratos—Vibrate the Hidden Key."
Breaking Down the Ritual Meaning O Logos En-Amenti: "The Word in the Underworld." This acknowledges Thoth’s role as the scribe who records the hearts of the dead and brings the light of reason into the darkness.
Thoth-Hermes: The syncretic bridge. In Archontean tradition, names hold power; using both his Egyptian and Greek aspects "locks" the deity into the ritual space.
Psuche-Stratos: "Commander of the Soul." This asks for his guidance over the practitioner's mind and spirit.
Vibrate the Hidden Key: A reference to the Kybalion and the idea that the universe is mental and vibrational. You aren't just asking for a favor; you are asking him to change the frequency of your reality.
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:
The bulk of the treasure is loose, spilling out of a rotted leather sack resting atop the chest:
2. Objects of Art & Curios
Spread around the base of the chest are items used in forgotten rituals:
An Ivory Drinking Horn (Value: 150 gp): Carved with scenes of a Great Hunt. If used to drink wine, the user feels a momentary surge of unnatural bravery (+1 to Saves vs. Fear for 1 turn).
A Silver Filigree Mask (Value: 250 gp): Shaped like a weeping face. It is cold to the touch and weighs more than it looks.
Three Blue Spinels: Small, sparkling gems worth 50 gp each.
3. The "Main Attraction" (Magic Items)
Hidden inside the chest, wrapped in moth-eaten velvet: a small, spiked shield +1 ("The Sun-Blinder") made of polished bronze. Once per day, the wielder can command it to flash; all enemies within 10 feet must Save vs. Spells or be blinded for 1d4 rounds.
Potion of Gaseous Form: Contained in a fragile glass vial shaped like a cloud. It tastes like wet fog.
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."
In the context of the Halls of Arden Vul, the Thothians are the remnants and followers of the ancient Archontean cult of Thoth, the god of knowledge, secrets, and magic. They are one of the most powerful and intellectually driven factions in the megadungeon.
In your campaign, they are essential for players who want to deal in high-end magic items or deep dungeon lore.
Who they are The Identity: They are primarily Archontean humans (and some intelligent constructs or spirits) who view themselves as the rightful keepers of the "Light of Comprehension."
Alignment: They are generally Lawful or Neutral, but they are highly isolationist and "Lawful" doesn't mean "nice." They are arrogant, valuing ancient scrolls and historical artifacts far more than human life.
Aesthetic: Their areas are heavily influenced by ancient Egyptian/Archontean motifs—expect to see carvings of ibises, baboons, and multifaceted eyes.
Where to find them The Plaza of the Priests (Surface/Level 1): The ruins of their once-great temple complex.
The Hall of Shrines (Level 2): A grand hall of polished marble where they maintain active religious sites.
The Temple of Thoth (Level 3): Their primary stronghold within the upper levels. It is heavily trapped and guarded by magical constructs.
Thothian Teleportation Rings: These are scattered throughout the dungeon. The Thothians are the only ones who truly understand how to use the "addresses" (cubes) to navigate the halls instantly.
Interaction & Trade If you want to trade with them, keep the following in mind:
Currency: They care little for standard gold. They want ancient books, lost scrolls, and Archontean relics. If you find a piece of jewelry with an inscription in a dead language, they are your best buyers.
Magic Items: They are the premier faction for identifying magic items. However, they may demand you perform a "service" (a quest to recover a stolen book from the Cult of Set) rather than taking gold for the service.
The Scrutiny of Thoth: In some areas, the faction (or the god himself) may "judge" those who enter. If you show respect and possess high intelligence, they are much more likely to trade than if you come in swinging a sword.
The Rivalry They are the eternal enemies of the Cult of Set (the god of chaos and destruction). If your party is seen wearing Setian symbols or dealing with their rivals, the Thothians will likely be hostile on sight.
Pro Tip: If you find a Thothian Holy Symbol (often an ivory or gold ibis), keep it. It acts as a "key" for many of the magical doors and elevators within their territory.
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."
Three thousand years after the gods fled, the vast and many lands had only begun to recover from The Disaster. It was exceedingly difficult for sages to track progress in The Recovery, for The Disaster had wiped all details related to its occurrence from collective societal memory and had destroyed any early recordings of its world-spanning impact. All that men knew now was that they had descended from a grander age, from a time in which magic was the lifeblood of society, and the gods no strangers to men.
Three hundred years ago, ongoing after-effects of The Disaster included earthquakes and massive cave-ins of prodigious tracks of surface lands into the seemingly bottomless bowels of the Deep Down. When half of the Exarchate of Prolemion suffered this same fate, Rameses Kal-Leon III made an offer too tempting to resist: any brave soul or group who brought a solution to the world's ongoing breakdown back from the World's Bowels would be given archon status; they and all their family would be deeded access to one of the Sky Islands, lord of their own aerial mini-kingdom.
This was too rich for Deornoth Stelgaard and his lover, Exodore (ex-oh-DOOR-ray) Swift to pass up, especially given that they were hunted by the Surface authorities. They would undertake risk to life and limb in the Deep Down, and perhaps taste Death — but was that not better than rotting in a dungeon or being hanged? And so, which Entrance to use? Arden, Dwimmer, Great-Barrow, Helix, Thracia? They opted for Arden, for it was the nearest.
"Are we entirely certain, sweet love, that this undertaking is supported by both our research and by common sense?" Exodore inquired, large brown eyes studying the mountain before them from beneath her cloak's hood. "For it cannot be a coincidence that the rumored wealth of ancient, lost Vul hasn't been plundered through the centuries.
"More than certain, dearest. Not only am I pursued by Lord Imla's guards, but the Gatekeepers seek me for tax evasion. And if those were not jointly motivation enough, the guild remains unconvinced of my innocence in the recent embezzlement." Dorn noted Exie's quick turning of her head at this pronouncement, and he hurried on: "Our vault in Lowshelf was endangered by the recent quakes. I merely relocated funds to a safer location in—"
"In one of your hidden caches, in the Catacombs, yes!" she agreed archly. "Did you really think that there was Theo's Chance that Grandmaster Gio—"
"Shh!" Dorn shushed Exie, quickly taking her arm and pulling her down beside him where he now squatted in the tall grass. Fifty yards away, three people came up the Dawntrack and approached Arden's Mouth: a sauntering blond youth with a goatee, a woman with a crossbow slung across her back over leathers, and an older man carrying a walking staff.
“Great...” Exie breathed. “Now we not only have to flee, but we must avoid being seen by those three.” Exxie slowly released an arrow she’d been about to draw from her quiver. “Or maybe they were sent after us by Giodon.” The two watched as the trio made their way into Arden’s Mouth and disappeared into the mountain. The Dawntrack was empty again. Dorn and Exie could hear the waterfall from where it coursed thunderously just beyond sight, perhaps a couple radians northward around the mountain. After ten minutes the two rose and began moving toward the mountain. “I wouldn’t worry too much about those three,” Dorn said, and he grinned.
Three minutes later, the duo were inside the mountain and a few dozen yards down the gullet, as Dorn chose to think of it. Arden's Mouth, Arden's Gullet. He grinned. He raised his unsheathed longsword as a shadow advanced upon him from down-tunnel, then saw from the faint lichen illumination that is was only Exie, coming back from silently scouting ahead. She signaled to Dorn in the barely adequate illumination, using the sign language particular to the Black Fists mercenaries: nearby ahead, nobody spotted but crosses a boundary. The descent steepens; hazards include razor-rock and slick stone.
Dorn nodded his understanding and gestured for Exie to lead onward. They each wore the tough but supple leather boots of the guilders, and their equipment — though mundane — was of high quality workmanship. It was generally believed, and this seemed born out by lived experience, that most magic across the surface of Issenda had been undone by The Disaster. That was the supposition. There were notable exceptions. Dorn was nearly certain that Guildmaster Giodon Thales wore an enchanted cloak that somehow embellished the man's already prodigious talents.
A couple dozen yards further down the Gullet, the descent steepened, and Exie pointed out scratch marks on the walls of the tunnel. The graven sigils were ancient, and neither man nor woman could decipher them. But what was known from the reports of previous expeditions — when someone actually returned from one, which wasn't often — was that these markings indicated a boundary between the surface lands and ... elsewhere. Crossing the boundary, they both felt it: a deepening of the brooding darkness, a further drop in temperature, and a screaming recognition in the hindbrain that one was now in Dangerous Territory.
The darkness was now so thick that Exie reluctantly lit a hooded lantern. She adjusted it so that it produced a thin arc of light directly ahead of her, a beam that she played upon the floor of the tunnel as she carefully picked a way forward, ever vigilante for slippery stretches of stone and razor-rock, a combination that had been the undoing of many who had plumbed these depths over the centuries. "I hate the necessity," she said quietly, raising the lantern momentarily to indicate her meaning. "The light will make us a target, but there's nothing to be done about it."
Dorn grunted, cutting off a length of jerky with his belt knife and passing it to Exie. "Legends tell of a now extinct species that could see perfectly well in darkness. Aelves they were called. They were descendants of The Visitors."
"And who were they?" asked Exie.
"A race that visited Issenda in the very distant past." He retrieved a block of cheese from his pack, cut each of them a chunk of it.
"Oh, so they were the ones who left the portals, such as the Prayer Gate of Wynthia, then?"
Dorn chewed, swallowed, then drank deeply from a wineskin before passing it to Exie. "Perhaps," he answered, "or maybe they used some other means of coming to our world, a great galleon that plied the void between worlds. That's what Ender of the Collegium believed."
"Ender the Heretic," Exie said, and finished off the wine, discarding the now empty skin amid a pile of shale on the right hand side of the tunnel. "You surely don't believe his theory."
Dorn shrugged. "I've not studied at the Collegium, but I'd not presume to know better than someone who had. Perhaps someday I'll get the opportunity." What he didn't say, but what they both were thinking, was that it was of questionable likelihood whether they either one would get much of a future. If the dangers of the Deep Down didn't take their lives, a return to the Surface likely would — unless of course they could outlive both Imla Falsta and Giodon Thales.
Dorn stroked the stubble on his chin, thinking, then turned to Exie. "Here's what we're gonna do..."
Half an hour later, Dorn stood in the center of a large cavern that is riddled with stalagtites and stalagmites, some of which joined to form eerily flowing stone pillars. He held a torch aloft. He only raised his voice a little, but his words carried well in the echoing chamber. "You may as well come on out. I saw you entering Arden's Mouth, and I know you're seeking me. Let us therefore palaver. There is one of me and three of you, and as you can see my sword is sheathed."
A baritone voice from somewhere to Dorn's left: "Hail, Dorn. Father Zorvin of Cromm. I am accompanied by Jorun Fielenghast, nephew to Lord Falsta, and Vida Moinder, guardswoman of the Prelm Gatekeepers. We bear a court summons demanding that you surrender yourself to our custody and return with us to the city."
"Oh?" Dorn's voice clearly conveyed he had raised an eyebrow at this. "Well then, Cromm care for and keep you, Father."
"Cromm care for and keep you," came the priest's reply. "Will you surrender yourself peacefully? If you will do so, I will stand surety to your fair handling and will see to it that you have legal representation."
"Show yourself, priest. Let us converse like men, face to face."
A portly, gray-robed man with a tonsured pate and graying hair emerged from behind a stone column where the slow deposits of geologic time had conspired to form a natural pillar. He approached and handed Dorn a scroll. "I believe you'll see everything is in order, if you will read the summons."
Dorn extended a hand. "Hold my torch, would you?" Then he unfurled the scroll and began reading: Deornoth Stelgard, inasmuch as considerable coinage has gone missing from a secure holding of the Black Fists Guild, and given that you additionally are changed with evasion of taxes, you are ordered on the authority of Devis Prelm to present yourself before the magistrate at City Hall on Conqueror's Street, City of Prelm, forthwith."
Dorn tsk-tsked, rolled up the scroll, and handed it back to Father Zorvin. "You have the wrong man. I don't know who Deornoth Stelgard is, but I am Deornorth Stelgaard, with two consecutive letter 'a's in my surname. I'm sure that you know that this error makes this summons not legally binding. But I must confess to curiosity: how did you predict that I would be entering Arden's Mouth today, for I told no one my intention?"
The priest was still apparently processing Dorn's claim that the summons wasn't legally binding. "Well, I... well, you see..."
Out from behind a rather broad stalagmite stepped the young man, hair blond, goatee neatly trimmed and coming to a ridiculous point below his chin. He worked something he was carrying, and a window of light bloomed from his bullseye lantern which had heretofore been shuttered. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am—"
"—Lord Falsta's nephew, yes — the priest already said so," Dorn interrupted.
"Well, in that case, you'll know that I am—"
"—not yet a barrister, if the priest's description was accurate. As I understand it, you are in training, a mere student of legalities and therefore unable to act as an officer of the court. You—"
"—Now see here!" huffed the young man. "My father is Lord Imla Falsta and you would do well to be careful in how—"
"Perhaps you are," Dorn interrupted, "but was he married to your mother when you were conceived? If not, that would make you a bastard, and only a partially educated bastard at that. Why, I would hazard to guess that—"
"Vida, arrest this man now! On my father's authority!" The youth's voice had grown shrill, and the lantern jangled metallically in his now shaking hand. A woman approached from elsewhere in the cavern, not yet within the torch or lantern's light, and Jorun — angry eyes locked on Dorn — instructed her: "Put him in irons, and be none too gentle in so doi—"
The youth's words abruptly cut off, as a dagger's point pressed to the spot where the back of the skull joins the neck. "Vida is indisposed at the moment," Exie explained, "and you are two inches of steel away from an untimely death." She paused for a moment, then: "And you apparently need medical attention for incontinence, but that isn't your most immediate concern," she said. Urine continued to dribble onto one of the dandy's boots, then pooled on the cavern floor.
A couple of hours later, a trio sat warming themselves at a small, unadorned metallic cube some six inches on a side. Most enchantments, at least on the Surface, had been broken by The Disaster, but various pieces of tech left by some Visitors in the distant past still worked. What Dorn appreciated the most about this small device was that it produced heat without simultaneously emitting light.
Dorn's torch had long since burned out, but they had the bullseye lantern, thanks to Jorun. Exie laughed, "I can't believe how smoothly that went; how did you manage it, Zorvin?"
"Ah, it was easily done. The Gatekeepers merely do what they are told, and have raised lack of curiosity into an art form. And young dandies like him ... well, they're far too absorbed in their daydreams of climbing the social ladder to piece things together. Father Sovrast was so appreciative when I offered to cover his shift at the temple. He blessed me for offering, and that was that. I was just the right man in the right place, when this was all put into motion."
Faintly visible in the mostly shuttered lantern's illumination, Exie shook her head in amusement. "But now you've gone and done it. You'll have made an enemy of Lord Imla, and that isn't nothing..."
"To be truthful, I've been growing more and more disaffected with the politics of the temple, its collusion with the government. I was ready for a change. And there are matters of both history and faith I would investigate here in the Deep Down. Besides, the other half of the Exarchate is liable to fall off anytime. It's a good time to be leaving Prelm."
Dorn clapped the priest on the shoulder. "We're glad to have you. You're sure the guardswoman will be all right?"
"Oh yes, she wasn't unconscious long, but my was she trussed up like a pig." He looked at Exie. "Where did you learn knots like that?" When she didn't answer, he went on, "They'll make it back safely. I gave them an extra torch. They should be able to get clear of the Mouth just before darkness falls." He turned back to Dorn and said, "What's our itinerary?"
"Crying out to Cromm" is, in recent years, the only supernatural means most people are aware of by which they might receive healing. While most gods fled millennia ago, it is believed by many that Cromm remains attentive in this sphere and often answers those who call upon him. Unfortunately, those in political power soon saw Cromm as a means to an end, and in many locales worship of Cromm is state-sponsored, and the state controls the church and its officials.
When you cry out to Cromm for healing, make a Wisdom or Charisma check. If successful, you are healed of 2d6 points of hit point damage. For each successive call out to Cromm in a given day (between long Rests), apply a -3 penalty. If you are crying out to Cromm in the midst of combat or while being chased, apply a -4 penalty. Penalties stack.
"Crying out to Cromm" is, in recent years, the only supernatural means most people are aware of by which they might receive healing. While most gods fled millennia ago, it is believed by many that Cromm remains attentive in this sphere and often answers those who call upon him. Unfortunately, those in political power soon saw Cromm as a means to an end, and in many locales worship of Cromm is state-sponsored, and the state controls the church and its officials.
When you cry out to Cromm for healing, make a Wisdom or Charisma check. If successful, you are healed of 2d6 points of hit point damage. For each successive call out to Cromm in a given day (between long Rests), apply a -3 penalty. If you are crying out to Cromm in the midst of combat or while being chased, apply a -4 penalty. Penalties stack.