The D20 Trademark License means that Wizards of the Coast has to compete with John Tynes, Chris Pramas, John Nephew, and a half dozen design studios. Can they do it? Of course they can.

Review Originally Published December 29th, 2000

Writing a low-level adventure for D&D is a thankless and difficult task: The most interesting monsters in the game don’t become available until the characters start hitting the mid-range levels. The challenges you do concoct must be kept simple. Nor can you effectively spice things up with intrigue, because low-level characters are assumed to be low on society’s totem pole.

With The Sunless Citadel, however, Bruce Cordell has put together an extremely impressive introductory package for WotC’s first generic module for the third edition game. Not only has he taken the usual suspects of goblins and kobolds and done something interesting with them, he’s also designed a dynamic environment with the assumption that the PCs will be gaining experience and power as they go. The result is something I haven’t really seen since the heyday of the 1st edition classics: A module with some real heft to it – with a lot of potential to leave your play group with epic stories. And, unlike its 1st edition predecessors, The Sunless Citadel doesn’t suffer from an unbelievable scenario and nonexistent plotting – quite the contrary.

The fact that Cordell has pulled this off in 32 pages designed for 1st level characters is extremely impressive.

PLOT

Warning: This review will contain spoilers for The Sunless Citadel. Players who may end up playing in this module are encouraged to stop reading now. Proceed at your own risk.

The structure which is now known as the Sunless Citadel was a “once-proud fortress that fell into the earth in an age long past”. Three important things have occurred in the long years which have passed since: First, a vampire was killed deep in the core of the citadel. The stake which pierced his heart was green, however, and took root. The tree which grew – known as the Gulthias Tree – is a thing of unspeakable evil. Twice each year the Gulthias Tree gives forth a single fruit: At Midsummer a ruby-red apple capable of granting health, vigor, and life; at Midwinter an albino apple which takes the same. There is a catch to this, however: The seeds of either fruit, if planted, will grow into a tree – which will then transform itself into a hideous and mischievous creature known as a twig blight. The Gulthias Tree is currently tended by an evil druid by the name of Belak, who has hatched a plan to infect the world with these twig blights.

Second, the citadel became the home of a roving goblin tribe – who have allied with Belak (largely because Belak and the strange Gulthias Tree frighten them).

Third, and most recently, a group of kobolds – seeking to worship the dragon gods of the citadel, have also moved in (coming into conflict with the goblins). The kobolds brought with them a young dragon hatchling (showing the flexibility of the third edition – allowing even first level characters to effectively tangle with dragons) – who has recently been kidnapped by the goblins.

The module is location-based: The PCs need to move through the sections of the dungeon controlled by the kobolds, then the goblins, and finally into the lower levels which are dominated by the Gulthias Tree. There is also a section of the citadel which has remained sealed since it sunk beneath the earth – giving a total of four different adventuring environments for the PCs. (There is also an entrance to the Underdark, which can be used at the GM’s discretion.) However, the module also has its dynamic components: For example, if the PCs keep their heads about them they can negotiate with the kobolds and use them as allies to punch through the goblin-controlled territory.

Cordell also does a nice job of planting a couple of seeds (pardon the pun) for future adventures: For example, the twig blights which have been released on the surface are still running around – and the PCs may end up running into them again.

WEAKNESSES

All right, I think the case has been sufficiently made for why you should pick up The Sunless Citadel, so let me now spend a couple of quick minutes analyzing its faults:

First, the adventuring hooks are fairly weak. The only one with real potential, in my opinion, involves the heroes being hired to discover what happened to another adventuring party which disappeared after going out to the Citadel (this is developed nicely in the module itself – the only weakness being that there’s really no explanation for why this other adventuring party decided to head to the Citadel in the first place).

Second, there’s no EL chart for this adventure. Dungeon Magazine has them. The third party developers have them. One should be here – particularly considering the probable desire for DMs to do on-the-fly adjustments to EL levels.

Third, there’s one whopping inconsistency at the adventure’s conclusion: Two of the missing adventurers have been captured by Belak, who has used the Gulthias Tree to transform them into helpless supplicants. The primary adventure text claims that, if the Gulthias Tree is cut down, the supplicants will become mindless and bestial. A sidebar specifically designed to explain the supplicants, however, claims that, if the Gulthias Tree is cut down, the supplicants will immediately die.

Fourth, Cordell does a really excellent job of making the Sunless Citadel a dungeon that makes sense… almost. There are a couple of key flaws here, both of which involve the goblins: First, it makes sense for Belak to be here (this is where the Gulthias Tree is). It also makes sense for the kobolds to be here (they’re worshipping the dragon idols of the Citadel). Unfortunately, the goblins aren’t given a similarly compelling reason for deciding to live here: Why don’t they go up to the surface and farm the vast expanses of empty land which the adventure text tells us surround the citadel?

The other key flaw is far more disturbing to the adventure’s essential structure: Belak uses the goblins to sell the magical fruit of the Gulthias Tree to the nearby villagers (who plant the fruit, furthering the spread of the twig blights across the surface world). Unfortunately, Cordell has designed a dungeon in which the goblins have been completely cut off from the surface world by the kobolds. Whoops.

The only other major problem I have with The Sunless Citadel is this: Dungeon Magazine has a lower price, more pages, and higher production values. Something doesn’t quite add up there.

But my rave review of Dungeon is for another time. Suffice it to say, for now, that The Sunless Citadel is a bargain at ten bucks: Although its only thirty-two pages long, there’s enough material here to fuel your game for at least two weeks and possibly as much as month. Great stuff.

Style: 4
Substance: 4

Title: The Sunless Citadel
Authors: Bruce R. Cordell
Company: Wizards of the Coast
Line: Dungeons & Dragons
Price: $9.95
ISBN: 0-7869-1640-0
Production Code: TSR11640
Pages: 32

Phew! Thank goodness this module has such great plotting, right? (Oof.)

As I’ve mentioned in a few previous commentary on these older reviews, Justin the Younger was still operating under the Plot is Adventure/Adventure is Plot paradigm even as I was beginning to figure out the pitfalls of that paradigm. This sometimes produced cringe-worthy results; sometimes just ones that are a little incoherent to my modern eyes.

Also feels like I was aggressively nitpicky in trying to find “weaknesses” in the module. The only criticism I actually have of the module today is that its dungeon design is a little over-linear, but fortunately it’s not particularly difficult to xander it up. The truth is my esteem for The Sunless Citadel has only grown over the years: I’ve run it three or four times now, and almost certainly will again. The lore is cool, the factions compelling, the upper level fun to explore, and the lower level creepy as hell.

The Sunless Citadel is also the birthplace of the twig blights. And I love those little bastards.

For an explanation of where these reviews came from and why you can no longer find them at RPGNet, click here.

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 41A: Dominic’s Denunciation

“I would ask your help,” Agnarr said. He pulled the body of the boy out of his bag of holding. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Perhaps,” Aoska said, examining the boy. “The damage runs deep. It will take us time to find a cure, if one is possible at all. And we would need to keep this collar upon him, to preserve him in his current state of stasis.”

Agnarr readily agreed. “Send word.”

The iron collar used to preserve the horrifically transformed child in a state of gentle repose is, if I say so myself, a pretty cool magic item. The players loved it. The flavor was fun, the aesthetic was punk, and the utility was phenomenal (in both keeping them alive and conserving their healing resources).

I hadn’t actually expected it to be such a big hit when I added it to the Laboratory of the Beast, but I was equally delighted by its presence in the campaign.

So why take it away from them?

Precisely because it was important to them.

And also because saving the life of the boy was important to them.

Taking a step back, one of your fundamental goals as a GM is to get the players to care about the campaign. Almost everything else is built on top of that. If they don’t care, then nothing else matters. But if you can get them to care about something – literally anything – in the campaign, then you can use that to get them invested: Outcomes suddenly matter. Consequences have meaning. The stuff they experience at the table will stick with them and they’ll be champing at the bit to come back and play again.

Care often works like a circle: The easiest thing to get a player to care about is their own PC. They invested personal effort into making the character; it’s quite likely they were creatively engaged during character creation; and the more they play the character, the more time they’ve personally invested in it.

It’s also usually pretty easy to grow the circle a little bit and get the player to care about the other PCs in the group: They’re directly connected to real people that the player is spending time with and likely already cares about.

Expanding the circle more than that, though, can feel like a quantum leap. You’re asking the players to care about things that don’t actually exist.

Tee insisted that Tor deal with it. He had been the one to kill them; it was his problem to solve.

“You’ve forgotten your compassion,” Tee said. “This place has made you hard.”

Tor nodded. “Sometimes you need to be hard to survive. I learned that from the horses.”

If the players can make that leap, though, the payoff can be huge. Your options for motivating them (and for motivating themselves) multiply exponentially. You can run far better horror games by putting things at risk other than the PCs’ life or death. Roleplaying will become richer and, as the players become invested in the stakes, more intense.

The other great thing is that this care can be viral: Once the players start caring about one thing in the campaign world, it will naturally lead to them carrying about other things.

You can also use this to your advantage: It can be hard to get them to care directly about some abstract idea (e.g., the Duchy of Kithos trying to win its independence from the Empire), but if you can get them to start caring about a character, then you can use that get them to care about the things that character cares about. (Or, if that care takes the form of loathing the NPC, then vice versa.)

So what I’m looking at in this session is a goddamn holy grail: The players have literally never even spoken to this NPC, but they have become emotionally invested in his fate and are willing to go out of their way to help him. Jackpot! This is what winning looks like!

Naturally, of course, the PCs now go looking for a way to help this NPC. When you see something like this happen at the game table, you might think to yourself, “Well, the last thing I want to do is discourage them! So I should make it as easy as possible for them to help the boy!”

Surprisingly, though, it turns out that this is exactly the opposite of what you want to do.

Which brings us back to the collar.

The collar is a cost. The players want to accomplish something and I’m making them pay a price to do it.

Vitally, this was a choice for them. If, I dunno, an astral vulture swooped out of the Ethereal Plane, grabbed the collar, and flew off, that would be meaningless. Even if Aoska, without announcing her intentions, had just zapped the collar out of existence and used its magical power to restore the boy, the effect wouldn’t be the same.

This cost is also not capricious, obviously. It flows logically from the narrative. As the GM, though, I could have declared that the Pale Tower had their own resources for dealing with the situation and let Agnarr take the collar with him.

But by imposing a cost, I’m forcing the players to demonstrate their care. I’m asking them, “Do you care enough about this to pay this cost?” Paradoxically, this makes them care even more. By paying the cost, they’ve become invested. The thing they’re paying the cost for – and, by extension, the game world as a whole – becomes endowed with value.

It turns out that this works even if they don’t pay the cost; if they had said, “No, this cost is too high. We can’t help this boy.” (Which is something that actually did happen earlier in the campaign when Tee couldn’t bear the cost of selling her house to save Jasin. Although in that case it was Agnarr’s player who proposed the cost; I didn’t even have to get my hands dirty.) In making the decision to pay or not pay the cost, the players have made a value judgment. Just making that value judgment gets them thinking critically about the game world (and their opinions of the gme world), which is enough.

This can work if the cost is just monetary. But it works even better if the cost is something more concrete than that – a specific person, organization, ideal, or, as in this case, object.

The fact that the cost, in this case, is also something they care about only enhances the result.  This is one of the reasons that care can become viral, but it’s also where the hard choices come from.

And the harder the choice, the bigger the payoff.

Campaign Journal: Session 41B – Running the Campaign: What the Magic Looks Like
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 41A: DOMINIC’S DENUNCIATION

August 15th, 2009
The 22nd Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Still standing over the bodies of Malleck and Silion another argument broke out regarding the dead, half-transformed boy they had half-saved. Many of them felt that his case was hopeless: Even Malleck had said that there was no cure for his piteous plight.

But Agnarr was adamant that they should at least try.

“But what can you do?” Tee said.

“We can find someone who can help,” Agnarr said. “We have friends who can help.”

“Like who?!” Elestra said, exasperated.

“Zavere.”

“I’m not sure I trust Zavere,” Tee said.

“Or the Pale Tower.”

“Fine. But if you want to do it, it’s yours to do.”

“Give me the papers.”

“What papers?”

“The papers describing what they did to him,” Agnarr said. “They might help.”

Ranthir was loath to part with them, but he eventually relented.

A DUMPING OF BODIES

Agnarr took the papers and left them, heading towards the Pale Tower. A quarter hour later he was knocking on the great door of the Tower.

The Graven One swung the doors open.

“I would ask for your help,” Agnarr said. He pulled the body of the boy out of his bag of holding.

The Graven One looked down inscrutably. “I think we should go inside.”

Agnarr nodded and followed him. When the door was shut behind them, the Graven One excused himself. He returned a few minutes later with Aoska.

Agnarr explained the situation to them and gave Aoska the research. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Perhaps,” Aoska said, examining the boy. “The damage runs deep. It will take us time to find a cure, if one is possible at all. And we would need to keep this collar upon him, to preserve him in his current state of stasis.”

Agnarr readily agreed. “Send word.”

“We will,” Aoska promised.

Meanwhile, Elestra and Tor were taking care of the bodies. Tee suggested that they use a cart full of hay to move them inconspicuously. (“How do you know so much about moving corpses?” Elestra asked. “I’ve been hanging around with you,” Tee replied.) But she insisted that Tor deal with it: He had been the one to kill them; it was his problem to solve.

“You’ve forgotten your compassion,” Tee said. “This place has made you hard.”

Tor nodded. “Sometimes you need to be hard to survive. I learned that from the horses.”

On the way to the Midden Heaps they ran into a watch patrol. There was another moment of nervousness, but, like their fellows earlier in the day, these watchmen recognized Tor and they passed on without incident. At the Midden Heaps they had to pay a special premium to dispose of the load themselves, but this, too, was easily enough done. Silion and Malleck disappeared into the midst of the slag heaps.

Tee, Ranthir, and Nasira sold their loot from the two temples. Against the hope that they would benefit from such fortunes again, they decided to invest in another bag of holding. At Myraeth’s they found one formed from links of golden chain with a dragon worked in crimson links within it. It was larger than the ones they already owned, and Tee – envying the dragon design – was depressed to find it was too bulky and heavy for her to carry. (Ranthir took it instead, nestling it among his many pouches and bags.)

Ranthir stayed at Myraeth’s a while longer (purchasing scrolls and various miscellaneous supplies) before returning to his room to study.

Tee grabbed newsletters from several vendors throughout Midtown. She discovered that their rescue of the slaves at the Temple of the Rat God was already making headlines. Tor, in particular, was being widely named for his heroic acts, and even his return of the imprisoned children was finding its way into the rapidly circulating stories.

She also discovered that Dominic had denounced Rehobath.

DOMINIC’S DENUNCIATION

Empress Square could be found in the northern reaches of Oldown. (They had passed it often on their way to Pythoness House and the Banewarrens, in fact.) At its center stood a large statue of red marble, depicting Empress Elyanella of Seyrun.

Tee knew that the “Empress Elyanella” had not, in fact, been an empress at all: Several centuries ago she and her entourage had alighted on the docks of Ptolus, claiming to have been recently crowned and now engaged in a “tour of peace throughout the world”. She held court in the city for three weeks, and by the time her deception was revealed, she and her entourage had left the city and journeyed south… reportedly disappearing into the Southern Wastes.

Now only her statue remained and the square was commonly used for large gatherings, public speeches, and the like.

Earlier that morning, word had quietly gone out and a large crowd had gathered before the statue. Not long after, Dominic and Sir Kabel had appeared on the steps of the Empress’ statue and gave a speech to the gathered crowd.

Sir Kabel had spoken first (and Tee searched until she found a newssheet that gave the full transcripts, accurate or not as they might be):

I stand before you as a humble servant of the Nine Gods and a keeper of their faith and service. In these past few weeks, that faith has been tried by those who would turn the Church upon the Nine Gods and the Nine Gods upon the Church.

But my words mean nothing. My service lies in my arm and my blade. Instead, let one speak whose service lies in his very voice.

Dominic had stepped forward:

In the eyes of Vehthyl, I stand before you penitent.

His eyes had lit with the prayer.

I have been told that I speak with the Living Voice of the Nine Gods. That might be true. I don’t know. Maybe those who stand closest to the light are the most blinded… Or maybe I’ve been marked for some other reason.

But what I do know is that, no matter how dark or dangerous my life has become, I have kept my faith true and bright in my own heart.

I also know that my name has been used by a man I now believe to be false to the Nine Gods. My eyes glow with Vehthyl’s silver light. Even I don’t know what the God of Mysteries intends for me… But Rehobath has claimed those marks for his own glory.

I stand before you now to denounce him, with the same light that he has claimed bright in my eyes. I name him a False Novarch. And those loyal to the Church and to the Nine Gods should turn against him and his false prophecy.

… thank you.

(When Tee read the transcripts to the others later, Elestra laughed. “Well… That last bit sounds like Dominic, anyway.”)

Dominic had then moved into the crowd, healing the injured among them as he passed his way to the west.

LATER THAT NIGHT…

Agnarr took Seeaeti out behind the Minstrel to continue the hound’s training.

Tee made several circuits through the inn’s common room, sounding out the common opinion on Dominic’s speech. She found that most of the wanderers were against Rehobath. They seemed to consider his religious zealotry a dangerous unbalancing of the local scape of power. On the other hand, the opinion of the common citizen seemed more evenly divided.

Tee eventually settled down at a table to share a drink with Nasira. She had briefly discussed the matter with the others. Their common foe had not been eliminated, but they also had other matters to attend to. If Nasira was going to continue journeying with them, she would need to be briefed.

Unfortunately, while Nasira’s companionship had grown on them during the trials of the two temples, they had not yet reached a resolution of just how much she should be told. So Tee made evasive small talk with her. And while she filled her in on their involvement with the Banewarrens, she avoided discussing both their memory loss and their complicated relationship with the politics surrounding Rehobath. At least for the time being.

Nasira, for her part, was also glad to have found some friends in Ptolus. She had felt hopelessly alone since the loss of her village. And certainly their shared fortunes had been quite lucrative to date. As long as the majority of their attention would be focused on the pursuit of Wuntad (and Tee was more than happy to assure her that the bastard would be firmly in their sights), she was more than happy to aid them in their other exploits.

When they were done chatting, Nasira returned to the room she had let at the Welcome Inn near Southgate.

Elestra and Tor had gone from the Midden Heaps to the Warrens. Using the map they had found beneath the Temple of the Rat God, they did a walk-around. They confirmed that the locations were shivvel dens and gathered as much information as they could about them. (Which didn’t amount to much beyond “they sell shivvel there” and, the slightly lesser-known rumor, that “the rats run ‘em”.)

When Elestra and Tor returned to the Ghostly Minstrel, Tee gathered up the group and quickly filled them in on the developments with Sir Kabel and Dominic. They ate dinner together and headed to bed.

About twenty minutes later, Tee (who was just preparing for a session of meditation) heard a knock on her door. She opened it—

And was shoved violently back onto her bed by four thugs with clubs.

A blond woman stepped through the door. She wore an eyepatch over one eye, but Tee recognized her in an instant: It was Arveth.

Running the Campaign: Make It Cost Them – Campaign Journal: Session 41B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 40E: A Final Questioning

Tor was able to quickly explain the situation and turn the children over to the custody of the watchmen. He decided, however, to claim that he had rescued them from the Temple of the Rat God instead of the Temple of Ebon Hand. (He was already concerned about them delving into the dangerous depths of the former; he didn’t think adding the dangers of the latter was a good idea.)

Meanwhile, the others were loading up the carts. Tee and Nasira drove those over to the Ghostly Minstrel, where they met with Tor and presented the paving stones to Tellith. She was delighted when they showed her how they worked, and they quickly made arrangements to get them installed as the front steps of the inn.

These magical paving stones are a pretty minor detail in the campaign journal here, and you won’t see them suddenly play some huge and significant role later on.

But I love them so much.

I originally added the paving stones to the Temple of the Ebon Hand because I had the idle thought that people arriving via sewer tunnel would be kinda gross. A prestidigitation spell would solve the problem, and the form factor — schlupping the sewer waste back down into the sewers — just made sense.

The others quieted and Tee walked through the wall. As she passed onto the white marble, the floor suddenly glowed brightly and the filth of the sewer was drawn away from her body, down through the illusionary wall, and into the sewer channel beyond.

“That’s handy.” Tee smiled, pleased that her clothes weren’t going to be ruined by the sewer after all. But she was concerned about the light, so she levitated up (with one last schlurping noise) and worked her way along the ceiling.

I never imagined that the PCs would be interested in looting the paving stones. It was, after all, a minor magical effect packaged into a huge form factor. But when the players had the idea of gifting the stones to the Ghostly Minstrel, it was a truly inspired thought.

(I don’t actually recall exactly which player first had the idea. In fact, I didn’t even remember it a few hours after the session, which is why it’s not recorded in the journal.)

The stones were, in fact, installed in front of the inn. And almost every single time the PCs comes home, they make a point of standing on the stones so that the blood and gore and sludge can all be whisked away. I also make a point of occasionally mentioning other delvers arriving at the Ghostly Minstrel and taking advantage of the stones.

As such, these stones have become an ever-present memorial to their accomplishments. They’re also a permanent feature in Ptolus now; a constant reminder, albeit a minor one, that the PCs actions have meaning and can transform the world around them.

Which goes a long way towards explaining why I love it when the PCs loot infrastructure — not for its monetary value, but because it can be repurposed. It shows that the players have become invested in the setting. I love seeing what they build, and I also love the tangible trophies of their exploits being a living part of the campaign.

Of course, not all of this infrastructure needs to be magical or even structural. Looting décor is also a common variant: In my first D&D 3^rd Edition campaign, an elemental cleric named Talbar (played by the same player who created Agnarr) had a bag of holding dedicated exclusively to beautiful antique furniture he was collecting to furnish the temple he was planning to build.

When the players start laying down roots, all kinds of interesting things can grow.

Campaign Journal: Session 41A – Running the Campaign: Make It Cost Them
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 40E: A FINAL QUESTIONING

July 25th, 2009
The 22nd Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

MALLECK’S LORE

The others had seen nothing of her struggle. They had seen her snatched from the air, a brilliant flash of scintillant energy, and then she had been standing in front of them again slamming the door shut. When she told them what she had experienced, they agreed that the chamber would be better left alone.

There was little of the temple left to explore now. They stumbled into Malleck’s chambers and found them to be luxuriously accoutered: He even had a personal bathing tub with alchemical mechanisms for heating the water. Among his personal effects they found a large cache of gold, along with additional papers and correspondence.

LETTER FROM SILION TO MALLECK

Malleck—

Valla has told me of your anger regarding the recent slowing of stock for your experiments. But if you must sate your fury, turn it towards Wuntad – he demands the same stock as you, and his desires are… particular. We have bent all of our efforts to fulfilling his requests, and have little time left to seek out what you need.

Nor are our friends among the Ring of Iron able to supply what you want. They never deal in those so young.

                                                                Silion

They also found three scrolls of black papyrus, covered in archaic runes written in a silvery ink. Ranthir was able to identify the runes as Ancient Common, and the ink as liquid mithril.

PROPHECIES OF THE CHILDREN OF CHAOS
(translated)

On three scrolls of black papyrus, written in faded silvery ink, are fragmentary passages of Ancient Common.

The most complete of the three scrolls details a “ritual of mutilation” – a mystic rite designed to directly affect living tissue to deleterious effect.

The second scroll is badly damaged, but appears to be the tale of Cajjan, Scion of Gellasatrac. Cajjan “stood at the right hand of the Ebon God” while the “campaigns of the blood armies” were fought – campaigns filled “with the carnage and destruction of the darkest paths”. Most of the rest of the scroll has been effectively destroyed, but towards the end there is a single phrase left intact: “—and in the blood of the savaged god was vested the promise of their power. And in the Hour of Black Rain that promise will be kept and the Dukes of Chaos shall be—“

The majority of the third scroll is covered in badly fragmented astronomical signs. In the center of the scroll, however, is preserved a passage of text: “There shall come those who bear the signs of the Nine. And in answer to their call there shall stand the Children of Chaos. And their ranks shall be matched. And their numbers shall be even. And their power shall be that of all fate.”

THE SANCTUARY

They decided to check the upper level of the temple. Heading up the stairs they passed through a seemingly unremarkable antechamber. Upon one wall there was a red tapestry emblazoned with the image of a black hand. The floor was covered with a round black rug.

As Tee passed over the latter, however, it suddenly sprung to life. As it tried to tangle itself about her feet, she leapt away… stumbling into the tapestry which, likewise, animated with malicious intent. Off-balance from her leap, she found her arms quickly caught up by the thick fabric.

The others, meanwhile, had scarcely had time to react to Tee’s predicament when the rug suddenly lunged in their direction – covering the doorway entirely. Agnarr and Tor tried to hack their way through it, but the strangely animate fibers of the rug proved bitterly resistant to their blows. Tee, meanwhile, was losing her struggle with the tapestry. While keeping her arms pinned, one corner of the tapestry curled up around her throat – pushing her back against the wall and choking the life out of her.

By the time Tor and Agnarr had gotten through the rug, Tee lay slumped against the wall. She’d stopped breathing.

Agnarr ripped the rug off of her and used his sword to pin it against the opposite wall – the flames slowly consuming the thinner fabric of the tapestry as it writhed. Nasira rushed to Tee’s side and was able to quickly resuscitate her.

Tor smiled at Tee. “It would have been ironic if we had destroyed the entire temple only to be laid low by a rug.”

Tee rubbed her throat. “I’m not laughing.”

They finally passed into the outer sanctuary itself. Much like the Temple of the Rat God, it consisted only of a single long hall: The wood-paneled walls were painted black with narrow red and black stained windows. The floor was carpeted in crimson, and the entire chamber was dominated by a massive idol statue depicting a hand in black stone:

Each digit of the hand was topped by a burning candle set into fingertip niches. Behind the idol there was a black wood cabinet filled with bizarrely twisted musical instruments, apparently of ritual significance. With a grim set to his mouth, Tor snuffed the candles while Agnarr smashed the musical instruments. They debated destroying the idol itself, but decided it would take too much time.

There were no cultists to be found in the upper level, however. Either they had fled or they had descended to the melees below.

A TEMPLE LEAVE-TAKING

They dragged their loot (which now vastly outstripped the capacity of their bags of holding) into the upper sanctuary. They even decided to grab two of the glowing pavestones as a present for Tellith (so that she wouldn’t have to worry about wandering delvers trampling dirt and muck into her front hall at the Ghostly Minstrel).

While most of them stayed to watch over the loot, a couple of them went to hire a carriage and two carts. When they returned, Tor used the carriage to take the three children they had rescued from the prison to the watch station on Pirveyor Street. There he was recognized by the watchmen on duty (which again filled Tor with a thrill), and Tor discovered that word was already spreading of their exploits at the Temple of the Rat God. (Apparently watchmen had been summoned from the Pirveyor Street station to aid in what must have been a massive clean-up operation at the temple itself.)

Tor was able to quickly explain the situation and turn the children over to the custody of the watchmen. He decided, however, to claim that he had rescued them from the Temple of the Rat God instead of the Temple of Ebon Hand. (He was already concerned about them delving into the dangerous depths of the former; he didn’t think adding the dangers of the latter was a good idea.)

Meanwhile, the others were loading up the carts. Tee and Nasira drove those over to the Ghostly Minstrel, where they met with Tor and presented the paving stones to Tellith. She was delighted when they showed her how they worked, and they quickly made arrangements to get them installed as the front steps of the inn.

Back at the temple, the others hired a second carriage, loaded Malleck and Silion into it, paid off the driver to keep his mouth shut, and had him drop them off at the same warehouse in the South Market where Tee had questioned “what’s-his-face” (as Elestra called him; meaning Jamill). Having secured their well-gotten gains, Tee, Nasira, and Elestra jumped into a third carriage and took it to the warehouse to meet up with the rest of them.

A FINAL QUESTIONING

They decided to wake Silion up first and try questioning her again. They kept her bound and blindfolded, but she proved no more talkative than their first attempt: Her answers mostly confined to snarls, threats, and bitter sarcasm.

With a shrug, they turned their attention to Malleck.

“That’s right,” Tee said. “The Ebon Hand is gone. You’re losing your friends one temple at a time.”

“Malleck is no friend of mine,” Silion snarled, although she seemed somewhat subdued at the revelation.

Malleck was coming around. “You traitorous rat-bitch! You led them to me!”

Her role as provocateur satisfied, they knocked Silion unconscious again and turned their focus on Malleck. In the hopes that he might prove more useful, Nasira summoned a holy light and wrapped it around him – forcing him to speak nothing but the truth.

Malleck proved considerably more malleable, but he wasn’t going to talk without cutting a deal first.

“What do you want?” Tee asked.

“My life,” Malleck said with a sardonic smile.

“Fine,” Tee said. “But I don’t want to see you in Ptolus any more. You leave town. You don’t come back. That’s the deal.”

“That’s more than acceptable,” Malleck said.

“We want to find the Tolling Bell.”

“My contacts within the Bell are Illadras, Ibard, and Wulvera,” Malleck said. They were somewhat taken aback (perhaps even shocked) to find someone willing to talk so freely. But Malleck shrugged. “We have a deal.”

He confirmed that Illadras could be found at the Temple of Deep Chaos in the sewers beneath Oldtown. He had not spoken directly with Ibard in several weeks and wasn’t sure when she planned to return to Ptolus. And Wulvera “ran Porphyry House, down near the Warrens”.

“What about Wuntad?” Tee asked, her curiosity boiling over.

“I don’t deal with him directly,” Malleck said. “But he can be reached through Wulvera at Porphyry House.”

“And your slaves?”

“I buy them from Silion,” Malleck said. “I don’t really trouble myself with the details. I think she kidnaps some of them. Others I know she buys through the Ring of Iron.”

“How do we cure the boy?” Agnarr asked, a grim tone in his voice.

“What boy?”

“The boy you were operating on.”

“Oh,” Malleck said off-handedly. “You don’t.”

They pressed hard on this issue, but apparently he knew of no way to reverse the process. “Why would you want to take away their perfection?”

Agnarr barely stopped himself from killing him.

Eventually, however, Malleck grew tired of their questions. He was particularly amused by what he described as their “endless paranoia”. (They had asked him about Zavere, the Commissar, Rehobath, the new Silver Fatar… and on and on and on.) “If all of these were cultists, do you think we would be hiding in the sewers? No. Not yet. But our time will come. Enough. We have a bargain and your questions have come to an end. Release me and I will go.”

Tor looked to the others. “Are we done?”

Tee nodded.

Malleck laughed. “Yes, I think we are.”

Tor chopped his head off.

The others stared at him in shock.

“Just for the record,” Tee said. “I was going to let him go. Just want to be clear on that.”

“I know you were, dear,” Tor said. “But he tortured children. I was never going to let him walk free.”

Tee quietly wondered, though, what had become of the Tor they had first met not so very long ago.

They woke Silion again. She was still blindfolded, but as soon as she came around she smelled Malleck’s death in the air. She went into a panic. Pissed herself. And then went into a babbling state of shock. With a grimace of impatience, Tor killed her, too.

“We can still ask her a few questions,” Elestra asked. “I can force her body’s memories to speak through the Spirit of the City. But we’ll only be allowed three questions, so we should choose them carefully.”

Tee nodded. “Let’s make sure we get it right.”

They debated the list of questions for the better part of half an hour and then Elestra wove her magic. Silion’s decapitated head rose into the air, its blood dripping in a sickly, coagulate gore down onto its own corpse below.

“Where can I reach Terathera?” Elestra asked.

“She works with Wuntad.” Silion’s voice was a spectral, muted howl.

“Where is Wuntad?”

“I have not spoken with Wuntad in months. He was working on a great project beneath the streets of Oldtown.”

“How can we find the Ring of Iron?” (Tee felt fiercely that they should work to end the slave trade in Ptolus. It offended her to the very depths of her soul.)

“They can be found on the Docks. There is a route through the sewers from the Temple.”

The head fell with a dull, wet thud.

“Which temple?” Elestra asked the others, almost rhetorically. “The rats or the mutants?”

“I’m guessing her temple,” Nasira said.

Agnarr was throwning. “I just thought of a better question. Mahdoth’s shipment.”

“Maybe,” Tee said. “But we know where that’s happening. We’ll know what it is when we intercept it.”

They took a step back.

“Two headless corpses in a warehouse,” Tor said. “Just another day in Ptolus.”

“It’s just like our first day,” Tee said, sharing a dark laugh with the others.

Running the Campaign: Looting Infrastructure – Campaign Journal: Session 41A
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index