In its most basic form, of course, the hexcrawl is a collection of hexes. Each hex contains some form of keyed content, and the PCs move from one hex to the next, encountering whatever each hex happens to contain.

Insofar as it goes, this basic functionality is just fine. Essential, really. It’s what makes the hexcrawl a fundamentally robust structure in which the players can never truly become stuck, because they can always just choose another hex to explore.

But if this basic functionality is the only thing a hexcrawl has to offer, then the hexcrawl becomes like a game of Memory with no matching tiles: You just select a tile at random, flip it up, and collect it. In order for a game of Memory to become interesting, there has to be a connection between the tiles (i.e., the pairs you’re trying to match). By learning these connections, the choice of tile in Memory becomes meaningful.

Similarly, for a hexcrawl to truly come to life at the gaming table, the players need to be able to learn meaningful information about the hexes and use that information to guide their exploration of the hexmap.

• “Those bandits told us their main camp was located in a cave three miles west of the waterfall. Let’s head there and shut them down for good.”
• “Do you want to go back and check out that weird tower with the bleeding walls we saw sticking out of the Sepulchral Holt?”
• “I don’t know where this map leads, but there must have been a reason that demon was carrying it.”

As the PCs gain information like this, they transcend random wandering and are able to set goals. Aimless curiosity is transformed into purposeful searching and true exploration is achieved.

There are a number of ways that the PCs can get this information. Rumors, for example, can either be freely distributed or gleaned from urban locations. Tracks can turn almost any random encounter into an information source. (“We can follow these goblin raiders back to their village.”)

But one of the most powerful technique is to connect your hexes: By exploring one hex, the PCs gain information that leads them to another hex. In this way, the random hexes of aimless curiosity are transmuted into purpose, and that purpose becomes self-perpetuating as each additional hex the PCs explore teaches them more and more about the area they’re exploring.

CLUES & LEADS

At a basic level, you’re including leads in your hex key that point to other hexes.

• The goblins are working for the necromancer, so if you raid their village you might maps or correspondence with the necromancer; or you might interrogate them or follow their tracks to the necromancer’s tower in the Sepulchral Holt.
• Conversely, if you go to the Sepulchral Holt you’ll find goblins from the village serving there (offering any number of opportunities for planting leads). Also, the necromancer is trying to help the goblins wipe out the bandits in the area (to eliminate the competition), so there’s a map indicating the location of the cave where they make their lair.

And so forth.

Since we’re talking about clues and leads, your thoughts might naturally lead you towards the Three Clue Rule:

For any conclusion you want the PCs to make, include at least three clues.

When it comes to hex connections, however, this is not strictly necessary. Remember that the hexcrawl structure itself provides a default method for discovering keyed content, so it’s okay if the clues for a location “fail.” So it’s fine if you only have two or one or even zero clues pointing to a location. (For the same reason that you don’t need three clues pointing to every room in a dungeon.)

Nevertheless, in keying your hexmap, you might want to keep a revelation list of your hexes to track how the various locations are being connected to each other. This may be particularly useful if you haven’t designed a hexcrawl before and want to make establishing hex connections a point of emphasis.

As a rule of thumb for your first hex key, for example, you might just make sure that every keyed location has at least one clue pointing to another location. That will likely result in some locations have lots of clues pointing to them and other locations not having any clues pointing to them, but it does make sure that the PCs are likely to quickly find specific information they can pursue if they’re currently without a specific goal.

TREASURE MAPS & RANDOM GENERATION

An interesting feature of the original 1974 edition of D&D is that its random treasure tables featured treasure maps. Lots of treasure maps. (25% of all “magic item” results, for example, would actually result in a map.)

This is a very interesting mechanic, because it systematizes the injection of hex connections (or to similar effect in a megadungeon). Rolling to generate a monster’s treasure would periodically prompt the DM to provide a clear-cut (and very tantalizing!) lead to another location.

(A similar system was that monster treasure was, by default, only found in the monster’s lair. So if you encountered a monster as a random encounter, you would need to track them back to their lair — which would likely have other encounters in it — in order to get your pay day.)

These systems were removed from the game, most likely because being randomly prompted to provide a full-blown treasure map to your players was daunting for many DMs, but I take a couple of lessons from this.

First, literal treasure maps are awesome. Include them in myriad forms. (Tattered parchment. Scrawled in charcoal on a ruined wall. A small blue orb that vibrates when you head in a particular direction.)

Second, some degree of randomization can be an excellent prompt to challenge ourselves and seek creative solutions that might otherwise have never occurred to us.

You can play around with this in all kinds of ways. For example, a fun exercise might be:

• Roll 1d6-2 for each keyed location to determine how many leads should be there pointing to other locations.
• For each lead, randomize the hex that the clue points to.

Trying to figure out how/why these connections exist will likely enrich your game world in fascinating ways.

(And if not, just ignore it. It’s a fun prompt, not the dice gestapo.)

VISIBLE LANDMARKS

As a final note, I’ll point out a form of hex connection that might not occur to you even though it’s in plain sight. Literally.

Landmarks which can be seen from a great distance — i.e., in another hex — are technically connected to all of those hexes from which they can be seen. (In a very literal, but nonetheless significant, way.)

Conversely, a high vantage point that allows you to spot is also a form of hex connection, allowing PCs to learn information that they can use to guide their navigation and exploration of the wilderness.

Back to 5E Hexcrawls

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 28C: Into the Banewarrens

Elestra, thinking quickly, fished a flask of oil out of her pack and threw it at the vermin-thing Tor was fighting. Agnarr stepped back, pivoted, and landed a blow with his flaming sword. The oil ignited and the vermin-thing was immolated by the wave of flames.

Tee stepped back and, drawing her own flask of oil, hurled it at the one Agnarr had just turned his back on. Agnarr whirled and a moment later there was nothing left of the creatures but two inky patches of burning grease.

The history of burning oil in D&D is something I find really interesting.

If you look back at the 1974 edition of D&D, there are two references to oil. First, you can buy a “flask of oil” for 2 gp. (Most obviously intended to fuel the lantern, which appears immediately above it in the equipment list.) Second, you can use it as part of the Flight/Pursuit mechanics:

“Burning oil will deter many monsters from continuing pursuit.”

Okay, but what should happen if someone — whether monster or PC — should end up in the burning oil? The rulebooks are silent on this issue, but it seems likely that many GMs followed the same train of logic I did when making a ruling on this:

• How much damage should it deal? Well, all attacks deal 1d6 damage in 1974 D&D, so almost certainly 1d6.
• How large of an area does one flask of oil cover? Most of the game defaults to 10 ft. increments, so a single 10-ft. square seems likely. (Enough to block a standard dungeon corridor.)
• How long does it burn for? Hmm. Probably more than just one round, right? 1974 D&D pretty reliably reaches for a six-sided die whenever it needs a randomizer, so let’s say it burns for 1d6 rounds.

This makes burning oil quite useful: It’s an area attack available to anyone willing to pony up the cash for it, and it’s incredibly useful for taking control of a battlefield or, as provided for in the rules, escaping from a fight that’s turned against you.

(Tangentially, in one of my D&D campaigns a PC invented a flash-burn oil specialized for combat: It cost 10 gp per flask and would deal 2d6 (take highest) damage, but only burn for 2d6 (take lowest) rounds. I gave it the name dragon’s milk. But I digress.)

The potential for abuse is, it should be noted, incredibly high if you (a) don’t enforce encumbrance and (b) don’t enforce any other consequences for hauling around huge quantities of highly flammable liquid. People will just throw oil all day with nary a care in the world.

It’s perhaps unsurprising to learn, given the efficacy and, frankly, importance of burning oil in D&D, that AD&D 1^st Edition spends much more time focusing on it. In fact, although the price of a flask of oil has dropped to just 1 gp, burning oil literally becomes a controlled substance on the Armor and Weapons Permitted table:

A number of protections against burning oil (like the resist fire spell) are also explicitly introduced.

And, of course, guidelines are given for many practical aspects of using burning oil:

• If you throw a burning flask of oil, it affects a 3’ diameter area, dealing 1d3 damage to everyone in the area (save vs. poison to negate). If you hurl a lantern, it only affects a 2’ diameter area.
• If it strikes someone directly, it deals 2d6 damage + 1d6 damage on the second round (and then burns out).
• Walking through or standing in an area of burning oil deals 1d6 damage per round and requires a saving throw to avoid being lit on fire.
• A lighted torch can be thrown to light an oil covered area (with guidelines for determining where it goes if you miss).

As with so many things in 1^st Edition, it’s an odd bag of contradictory details. (If you hit someone with oil, it burns out after 2 rounds. Should that rule also apply to “puddles” of oil that are lit? Is the 1d3 splash damage in addition to the 1d6 damage for standing in the burning pool? Or does a thrown flask of oil not create a pool and only creates splash?)

Regardless of the hazy parts here, it does generally appear that oil continues to be an effective method of performing an area attack. Nowhere near as powerful as a fireball, certainly, but far more accessible and flexible.

Let’s briefly detour over to the 1977 Basic Set. Here we find:

• 1 flask of oil can create a 5-foot-wide pool. It will burn for 10 rounds, dealing 2d8 damage per round.
• A creature struck directly with oil suffers 1d8 damage in the first round and 2d8 damage in the second round. (It’s then “assumed that the oil has run off, been wiped off, burned away, etc.) This is accompanied by a truly dizzying system for actually targeting the creatures. (You need to roll 11+, but then you adjust for Dexterity score, and also the height of the target.)
• You have to ignite oil AFTER throwing it. (You apparently can’t light it like a pipe bomb and then throw it.)
• Flaming oil will not harm non-corporeal monsters like wraiths and specters. It deals only half damage to skeletons, zombies, ghouls, wights, and mummies. Monsters that normally use fire weapons (e.g. red dragons, fire giants, hell hounds) are also immune.

We can see here that J. Eric Holmes did, in fact, follow a logic similar to my own (albeit with a smaller area affected and more damage afflicted). This version is more powerful than AD&D’s and would basically persist throughout the later version of Basic D&D (with the addition of a grenade-like, wick-fueled burning oil bomb to the equipment list).

LANTERN OIL DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT!

I don’t care.

Why are lanterns in D&D fueled with such an insanely flammable liquid? I don’t know. Maybe it’s harvested by alchemists from the glands of fire lizards and is absurdly cheap compared to other options, and house fires are a huge problem in this world. Or maybe the characters are carrying a bunch of different types of oil, and we just doesn’t worry about trying to figure out exactly which one is which.

The point is that D&D-style burning oil creates interesting gameplay and has strategic interest.

Although I will note that AD&D 2^nd Edition did make a point of distinguishing between “Greek fire” (10 gp per flask) and “lamp oil” (6 cp per flask; can’t be used offensively, but can sustain existing blazes).

THE BIG SHIFT

The big shift for burning oil in D&D starts with 3^rd Edition, which divided the weapon into alchemist’s fire (1d6 damage per round for two rounds, can’t be used as an area attack) and oil (5 ft. area, 1d3 damage, burns for two rounds; if thrown, only has 50% chance of igniting properly).

You can see how these rules were derived from AD&D, but the efficacy of oil as an area attack has been crippled.

4^th Edition’s treatment of oil is actually hilarious. On page 210 it says:

Here’s an overview of the contents of this chapter:

(…)

Adventuring Gear: The tools of the adventuring trade. Look in this section for everburning torches, flasks of oil, backpacks, and spellbooks.

Emphasis added. But guess what isn’t in the Adventuring Gear section of the Player’s Handbook? Guess what isn’t in the book anywhere at all?

Ah, 4th Edition. Never change.

D&D 4^th Edition Essentials did manage to remember to give a price for lantern oil, but I’m fairly certain there are still no rules for using burning oil as a weapon.

Burning oil makes a comeback in 5^th Edition, but remains quite weak:

• You have to light oil as a separate action or attack.
• It can cover a 5 ft. area, burning for two rounds.
• It deals 5 fire damage.

So… why was burning oil suddenly nerfed to, in some cases, no longer being a part of the game at all?

Partly I think it’s because of the expectation that encumbrance won’t be enforced, allowing PCs to haul around dozens of flasks of oil that can be deployed ceaselessly. Mostly, I think it’s fear of a mundane item “poaching” what spellcasters can do.

The irony is that you can look at a whole plethora of perpetual D&D design discussions:

• Non-spellcasters not being able to compete with the area attacks of spellcasters.
• PCs not being able to reliably retreat from battle, so players always fight to the death.
• A lack of dynamic control over the battlefield, resulting in boring combat.

… and burning oil is just sitting there waiting for somebody to notice it.

Honestly, I’ve had great results from just using my rulings from 1974 D&D:

• 10 ft. area.
• 1d6 damage per round.
• Burns for 1d6 rounds.

I recommend adding that and dragon’s milk to your 3^rd Edition and 5^th Edition campaigns.

Campaign Journal: Session 29A – Running the Campaign: Clever Combat
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 28B: On the Eve of the Banewarrens

The mansion on Nibeck Street that Jevicca had identified as the origin point for the appearance of the surge of Tavan Zith’s wild magic was very close to Pythoness House. So close, in fact, that they feared there might be a connection. Could the cultists be responsible for the breaching of the Banewarrens?

“If we check it out and there’s nothing there,” Ranthir pointed out, “then we’ve lost nothing. But if there is…”

During the last session, we talked about how I structured the second act of the campaign using two tracks — the chaos cultists and the Banewarrens. Beginning in this session, we can almost immediately see the effects of this structure in actual play.

First, the two tracks confuse the players’ understanding of the situation. Until they learn enough to disambiguate the tracks, this will obfuscate the truth of what’s happening. This makes the campaigns’ enigma(s) fiendishly Byzantine for the players, and therefore even more satisfying for them when they do unravel what’s going on (in large part by figuring out how to disambiguate the tracks).

But until they do, their own actions will often cause interactions — directly and indirectly — between the tracks. The initial effects that we see in this session are fairly minor: Their suspicion that the chaos cults might be involved with the Banewarrens causes them to double back to Pythoness House, where they have a cool roleplaying encounter with the ghost Taunell.

Paradoxically, however, the complexity of these player-forged connections between the tracks will often grow in complexity at the same time that the players are disambiguating the tracks and, therefore, simplifying their understanding of a situation becoming ever more convoluted.

And even when this doesn’t happen, the consequences of the players’ choices will nevertheless be significant. (For example, their verification that Pythoness House is, in fact, vacant in this session — something they would otherwise not have been prompted to do — will actually end up having a profound impact on how later events in the campaign play out.)

They needed to question Tavan Zith, and the only way they could think to do that was by going to Castle Shard. They also needed to know if Lord Zavere was the one responsible for opening the Banewarrens. And, if so, why.

As they rode, Dominic looked at the others. “So… do we have any idea how we’re going to do this without getting killed?”

Agnarr shrugged. “Sure. We ask him. If he didn’t do it, we don’t get killed.”

Of course, these two major tracks are not the only threads in the campaign. This is, after all, Act II. The stuff that the PCs did in Act I of the campaign continues to unspool, and that includes:

• Their relationship with Lord Zavere and Lady Rill at Castle Shard.
• Their deep suspicion of Rehobath and, by extension, the Imperial Church.

And these threads are also interacting with the major tracks and with each other.

For the players, this colors their understanding of Rehobath’s agenda and creates paranoid suspicion of what Zavere might really be up to. There are layers upon layers upon layers! (And the players are unwittingly in the act of adding even more layers themselves.)

But on my side of the DM screen, everything remains neatly sorted into discrete boxes that are easy to prep and easy to run.

Campaign Journal: Session 28C – Running the Campaign: On the Efficacy of Burning Oil
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 28B: ON THE EVE OF THE BANEWARRENS

September 14th, 2008
The 15th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

TAVAN ZITH AT CASTLE SHARD

They left. Once they were safely in the carriage and driving away from the Cathedral they talked things over.

“I don’t trust him,” Tor said.

Dominic nodded. “You can put crimson robes on a pig, it’s still not a novarch.”

They needed to know more. They needed to question Tavan Zith, and the only way they could think to do that was by going to Castle Shard. They also needed to know if Lord Zavere was the one responsible for opening the Banewarrens. And, if so, why.

As they rode, Dominic looked at the others. “So… do we have any idea how we’re going to do this without getting killed?”

Agnarr shrugged. “Sure. We ask him. If he didn’t do it, we don’t get killed.”

Tor came up with a better strategy. “We tell him that we respect him. Tell him we’ve been approached about this. But if he’s involved, we’re more than happy to stay out of it. We just want to know that before getting in his way.”

Kadmus was waiting for them at the gate of the castle. He ushered them in to see Lord Zavere. He welcomed them warmly and seemed genuinely pleased to see them.

Unfortunately, their plan fell apart fairly quickly. Tee carefully began working her way around the subject of the Banewarrens – sounding him out on the matter. But then Elestra blurted out Rehobath’s involvement. Before Tee could regain her grip on the situation, Zavere had quickly figured out that they had been approached by both the Novarch and the Inverted Pyramid.

Tee sighed and decided to make the best of it.

“What do you know about the Inverted Pyramid? Should we trust them?”

“It depends,” Zavere said. “Although I have reasons to distrust them, the Pyramid is not entirely monolithic. Whether you can trust them will most likely have more to do with whether or not you can trust the person you’re working for.”

“And what do you know about the Banewarrens themselves?”

Zavere gave them a brief history similar to the one Jevicca had described to them. “No one has ever been able to penetrate them, although many have tried. It’s known that Ghul himself was fascinated by them. He named himself the Sorcerer’s Get and claimed to be a direct descendant of the Banelord himself. The drill I purchased from you would have been only one of many attempts he made to access them.

“Much of our modern knowledge of them derives from records recovered by Gerris Hin, the same loremaster responsible for founding the modern city of Ptolus. Over the centuries, many have attempted to succeed where Ghul failed. Some of them, like Sokalahn, being quite famous. Others less so. But whether powerful or clever, none have ever succeeded.”

“And have you ever tried?”

Zavere laughed. “No. I purchased the drill as a mere curiosity. I doubt it would work in any case. No, the Banewarrens are not a specialty of mine.”

“Do you know who might specialize in it?” Tor asked.

“The Banewarrens have long been a fool’s errand. If you had asked me yesterday, I might have told you that no one was studying it. But clearly the last few hours have changed that.”

“If the Banewarrens have been opened,” Tor said, “I don’t know if we’re strong enough to face them.”

“Neither do I,” said Zavere. “But I will look in the archives of the Castle. If they contain any information about the Banewarrens that might help you, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Tor said.

“There is something else…” Tee said hesitantly, glancing at the others. “Does the name Tavan Zith mean anything to you?”

It didn’t. Tee quickly filled him on what had happened and showed him the prophecy they had discovered in Pythoness House. Then she revealed that they had Tavan Zith in custody, but had been unable to question him. She let Ranthir explain why and share his theory about how an antimagic field might be used to suppress Zith’s ability.

“Where is he now?” Zavere asked.

Tee glanced nervously at her bag of holding. Zavere followed her gaze.

“Are you serious?”

Tee nodded.

“Very well. Come with me.”

Zavere led them through the Castle, taking them to a small, but well-accoutered laboratory where Lady Rill was working. He quickly explained the situation to her.

Lady Rill lowered a metal cylinder out of the ceiling. Manipulating several devices she created a blue, glowing field of energy within the cylinder. “If you place him in there, he will be restrained and any sorcerous manifestations will be suppressed.”

Tee removed Zith from her bag of holding and placed him in the cylinder. They woke him up.

As Zith opened his eyes, his features contorted into a contemptuous sneer. “The powers of chaos shall make you rue this day.”

“Who are you?”

“I am the sower of chaos! The servant of the true gods!”

“What do you mean?”

“Destruction. Destruction is the ultimate end of all things and the fulfillment of all dreams.”

“Do you know where the Banewarrens are located? Did you come from the Banewarrens?”

But his answers were useless, varying between the megalomaniacal and the insane. After several minutes they gave up. Zavere promised to continue questioning him, although he had little hope of getting anything out of him. They thanked him and Lady Rill both and went on their way.

ON THE EVE OF THE BANEWARRENS

As they passed down through Oldtown they turned aside long enough to stop at the Pale Tower. There Tee left word with the Graven One – asking if any of the Malkuth would be interested in knowing that the Banewarrens had been opened.

Ranthir headed to the Delver’s Guild library and started researching the Banewarrens directly, although he turned up little of substance beyond what they had learned from Jevicca, Rehobath, and Lord Zavere.

Elestra, meanwhile, made a point of buying a newssheet. They were filled with news of the riots in Oldtown, and she found that Agnarr, Dominic, Tee, and Ranthir had been prominently credited with the quick and successful response to what was being described as a sorcerous attack on the city. She also discovered that a 2,000 gold piece reward had been offered for the spellcaster responsible.

Elestra also made a point of digging up older copies of the day’s newssheets, printed before the riots. From these she learned that Gidden Primus, a mage of mild repute, had been found dead the night before in his apartment in Oldtown. His chambers had been rimed with frost and Gidden himself had frozen to death.

Tee had gone straight up to her rooms to snatch some sleep before heading back up to Oldtown to perform her watch duties for the Brotherhood (it had been more than a day and a half since she’d woken up), but Elestra caught up with her in the common room when she came back down around 11 o’clock.

They agreed that there didn’t seem to be any connection between the death of Gidden Primus and the opening of the Banewarrens.

When Tee left, Elestra shapeshifted into a dog and accompanied her. Tee appreciated the company, and they thought it might be useful to have another pair of eyes and legs available if they were needed.

In fact, it turned out that they were needed sooner rather than later. As they passed through the streets of Oldtown, Tee spotted Iltumar sneaking his way back towards Midtown – his watch duties on the apartment complex must have just ended.

Tee warned Elestra and they easily avoided him. Once he had passed, Tee indicated that Elestra should follow him while she continued on to the apartment complex.

Elestra did. Or at least tried to. After a few blocks, Iltumar seemed to become suspicious of the “stray” that was dogging him. Elestra tried to throw his suspicion by acting innocently (sniffing at garbage piles and the like), but in the process she ended up losing him. Frustrated, she turned back and rejoined Tee at the apartment complex.

The rest of the evening passed quietly. When Tee’s shift ended at 6 o’clock they both headed back to the Ghostly Minstrel and managed to grab a few more hours of sleep before the new day began.

RETURNING TO PYTHONESS HOUSE

(09/16/790)

The mansion on Nibeck Street that Jevicca had identified as the origin point for the appearance of the surge of Tavan Zith’s wild magic was very close to Pythoness House. So close, in fact, that they feared there might be a connection. Could the cultists be responsible for the breaching of the Banewarrens?

“If we check it out and there’s nothing there,” Ranthir pointed out, “Then we’ve lost nothing. But if there is, then we may have saved ourselves considerable time.”

So before heading to Nibeck Street, they return to Pythoness House.

They found it undisturbed… until they reached the gatehouse. As Tee passed through the door of the narrow space, the ghostly specter who had assaulted them before suddenly rematerialized. At the same instant, the trapdoor slammed shut behind Tee, separating her from the others.

“Leave this place of evil before it consumes you!”

“Okay.”

“… what?”

“If you’ll just open the trapdoor, I’ll leave.”

“Very well.” The ghost waved and the trapdoor swung open.

Tee grabbed it and held it open. “There’s a ghost! Help!”

Ranthir called up from below, “Did we want to talk to it this time?”

Agnarr, who had leapt up the ladder and had his sword halfway out of his sheathe, stopped. “I suppose…” He sighed heavily.

The ghost, for his part, now seemed to be more flustered than sinister. They asked him his name and he introduced himself as Taunell.

“What are you doing here?” Elestra asked.

“I lived in this house two hundred years ago. I served as priest for the Kollotis merchant family. It was a minor house and its fortunes were waning. It must have appeared weak. One night a band of brigands assaulted the house. They killed most of the household and stole the family jewels. The Kollotis family never recovered. I, myself, found myself unable to leave this mortal plane. I had no greater desire than to see the family protected, and now I seek to protect this house against those who would stain their memory.”

“And the chaos cultists?” Tee asked.

“They came here five years ago. I am shamed to say that I could not make them leave this place.”

“Do you know anything about Wuntad?”

“He was their leader. Among the women who lived here I had a friend named Maquent. She told me that his ultimate goal was to join all the followers of chaos in a common cause. He brought great evil into this house.

Tee grimaced. “He left with it, too.”

“If we brought him back here, is there anything you could do to stop him?” Elestra asked.

Taunell lowered his head. “I couldn’t even stopped him when he lived here.”

“I understand,” said Tee. “It’s all right.”

Running the Campaign: Multi-Threaded Campaigns – Campaign Journal: Session 28C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index