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If the intruders can’t be swayed, he takes off, then attacks them from range at every subsequent clearing in order to weaken them, deplete their resources, and demoralize them. Only once they reach the center of the labyrinth, where he has the additional benefit of his lair actions, does he engage with them in earnest and seek to finish them off. There are several waterfalls along the course of the Tok, and here’s where Zatrulas plays perhaps his cleverest trick: He’s established a decoy lair in a cave behind the waterfall nearest to his arch, where the water forms a pond about 3 feet deep and 15 feet across before continuing on its way downhill. The cave isn’t large—to get through the opening, he has to squeeze, and in a few hundred years, he won’t even be able to do that anymore—and it goes back only about 80 feet before ending in a nest of five gricks, plus a grick alpha. Zatrulas tosses all the silver coins he collects in here, along with semiprecious stones and chunks of glittering pyrite: In torchlight, from a distance, the silver looks like gold. For extra plausibility, he’s left a scattering of bones around the pond and just inside the cave entrance. If intruders fall for the decoy, enter the cave, and survive their encounter with the gricks, they’ll find Zatrulas waiting for them outside. Zatrulas’s real hoard is hidden 160 feet away from his arch amid a mazelike wall of pitted sandstone pillars, 30 feet off the ground, in one of many look-alike indentations. (Despite their considerable value—and considerable weight—the precious metals and gems take up less than 10 cubic feet of space.) If Zatrulas is badly wounded in battle, he may “flee” (never far) or parley, but he won’t abandon his hoard. And if intruders discover its location, he pulls out all the stops to drive them away from it, including but not limited to grabbing them and hurling them into the forest or against the rocks, exhaling a whole lungful of poison gas into the indentation, and employing all his lair actions to prevent any intruder from reaching it. OceanofPDF.com
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DROW COMPOUND Minimum recommended party: four level 14 or five level 12 PCs Beneath the mountains called Ered Mund lies the underground city of Eienenn Don, where the Belegez Maela—priestess of a demonic spider goddess—rules over six thousand drow subjects, who in turn rule over nearly as many captive duergar and bugbears, forced to labor in their farms and mines. Not all her subjects are content with her rule, however. A group of dissident drow from Eienenn Don have come to the town of Nan Theli in possession of a bombshell rumor: Maela allegedly possesses a set of heretical scrolls that reveal the existence of an additional god in the drow pantheon, one who denounced the age-old practice of slavery and proclaimed other beings to be equals of the drow. They’ve come to the surface to seek the truth for themselves, and if they should discover this suppressed god to be real, they wish to seize the scrolls from Maela and make the truth known. ASSETS Maela. The drow priestess sits at the top of the underground city’s social, political, and religious hierarchy. By virtue of her status, her life is more valuable than any other (intrinsic value: 4), and her connection to the demonic-divine elevates her further in the eyes of the drow (intangible value: 4). They’ll protect her if for no other reason than they fear supernatural retribution if they don’t. Total value: 8. Maela’s treasure hoard. What’s the point of being a theocrat if you can’t get rich off it? Maela’s treasury isn’t full to bursting, but it’s not growling with hunger, either (monetary value: 2). Total value: 2. Heretical scrolls. The rumors are true: Maela is in possession of the Levrennoù Loar, a set of scrolls that, among other chronicled events, mention the anathematized god and her repudiations of cruelty, slavery,
and tyranny. As best anyone can guess, Maela holds on to them only so that drow inquisitors can familiarize themselves with unique phrases from the scrolls and ferret out anyone they hear using them. At best, this application makes the scrolls marginally useful (operational value: 1); their real value isn’t to Maela or the drow of Eienenn Don but to dissidents and heretics pursuing the secrets therein (intrinsic value: 4), who’d be emboldened by the discoveries (intangible value: 4). Total value: 9. Captives. The drow raid other civilizations, both underground and aboveground, and haul their captives back to be put to work as slaves. To the drow, their captives’ lives have no intrinsic value (the captives themselves would certainly disagree), but they keep the farms and mines running, without which Eienenn Don would quickly collapse (operational value: 4). Total value: 4. Drow civilians. Drow value the lives of drow, although not to the same extent that they value the lives of important drow (intrinsic value: 3). Total value: 3. Farms, food stores, and waterworks. Without these essential infrastructural assets, Eienenn Don can’t support itself (economic value: 4). Total value: 4. Mines. In addition to a variety of gemstones, the mines of Ered Mund yield iron, gold, copper, tin, lead, and rock salt. Most important, they also yield cinnabar and a mineral ore the drow call maen pounner (“heavystone” in Common), necessary for the manufacture of adamantine. They’re not as critical to the survival of Eienenn Don as food and water, but they come close (economic value: 3). Total value: 3. Poison brewery. An asset important both for its usefulness and for the sensitive information concerning the creation of drow poison kept therein (operational value: 2). Total value: 2. Armory. Another asset important to the security of Eienenn Don (operational value: 2). Total value: 2. The most valuable—and most sensitive—asset in Eienenn Don is the collection of heretical scrolls. These need to be protected against anyone who’d
make their contents known: heretic drow, of course, but also outsiders who might have dealings with the drow, either here or elsewhere. They also need to be protected against Maela’s political enemies, who might cynically use her possession of the scrolls to discredit her. Fortunately, they can be kept hidden and locked away nearly all the time; inquisitors need access to them only when they’re training a new recruit. However, if their contents became generally known, it could produce a schism that would disrupt drow society profoundly. Slavery wouldn’t disappear overnight, but many more drow might be swayed toward abolition, and the ruling powers would lose status and clout. Maela is therefore highly motivated not only to keep the Levrennoù Loar safe but to keep their very existence secret. In this effort, she enjoys the assistance of her trusted counselor, her house captain, and select priests, but most of her forces know nothing about it. All of them, however, are committed—at least outwardly—to the protection of Maela herself. Outsiders are the obvious enemy, but Maela also has rivals among other drow houses in other cities. For the most part, she doesn’t need to wander around Eienenn Don; her counselor and house captain do most necessary legwork and report back to her at the temple, where she appears in public only on ceremonial occasions. To protect Maela, therefore, her forces must first and foremost protect the temple. As in many tyrannies, Maela has no clear successor, so her death would result in chaos as various contenders made their plays for her seat—and that’s to say nothing of what catastrophes the spider goddess might bring down if she were displeased. Even those who dislike Maela have a vested interest in protecting her life. Next come the food and water infrastructure of Eienenn Don, along with the slaves who keep the system running. The main risk to these assets is sabotage— by rival houses, dissidents, or rebellious slaves. They’re both vulnerable and critical to the city’s survival. They need to be watched continuously and intently. These are followed by the mines and the civilian population. Sabotage of the mines would be a nuisance, but it wouldn’t put the city in immediate danger the way sabotage of the waterworks or food stores would; each mine also has a single entrance that’s easy to guard. The civilian population is unavoidably vulnerable
—people need to go about their business and can’t shelter indefinitely—but is also an unlikely target, unless a rival house in another city declares war. Here’s where defensive plans are going to have to start cutting corners, since we’re already seeing that Eienenn Don’s ability to defend its assets is getting overstretched. The last remaining assets—Maela’s treasure hoard, the armory, and the poison brewery—are going to have to make do with the simplest, lowestcost precautions. Fortunately for the drow, they live underground, largely self-sufficiently, and there are only a handful of entrances and exits to Eienenn Don. Simple and lowcost precautions can go a long way. DEFENSE With a population of only six thousand, Eienenn Don can’t raise a large guard force, but the one it has is very well trained. It’s commanded by Kadour, a drow house captain (see Mordenkainen’s; Kadour wears a breastplate instead of chain mail), who oversees six guard patrols. Each guard patrol consists of six drow; two drow elite warriors; and one drow diagon (see appendix B). At any given time, three patrols are on active duty, one patrol is in reserve, and two patrols are at rest. In an emergency, one of the two resting patrols can be called up immediately; it takes the other patrol 5 minutes to become fully battleready. If encountered before then, the drow have AC 12, the drow elite warriors have AC 14, and the drow diagon has AC 11. In both resting patrols, the drow diagons have one fewer spell slot of each level, unrecovered from earlier in the day. For half the day, Kadour is in command, accompanied by two drow acolytes (see appendix B). When Kadour is off duty, he yields command to his lieutenant, Kaertevel, a drow house lieutenant (see appendix B) also supported by two drow acolytes, plus one drow elite warrior as backup. As for Maela, she’s a drow priestess who wears a ring of mind shielding and is usually accompanied by her confidential adviser, Nolwenn, a drow mage. Eienenn Don is mostly unlit. The only places that are lit are the temple, when Maela is conducting religious rites, and places where workers—or their overseers
—need additional light to see clearly by. Even then, the lights are dim, because the drow don’t need more than that. The temple of the spider goddess is deep within Eienenn Don, on a lower level of the underground city. Built directly into the rock, it’s a veritable fortress: Its entrance is a double door of iron, barred from within. Its front wall extends all the way from the bottom of the chamber to the top, and all the way from one side to the other. There are no windows. When Maela addresses her people, she speaks from a second-floor balcony (and wears gloves of missile snaring over a ring of evasion and her ring of mind shielding, in case of an assassination attempt); the lock on the balcony door is very hard to pick (DC 25). Within the temple, she keeps the Levrennoù Loar in a coffer behind a secret panel in the sanctum. The coffer is protected further by a brass pin tumbler lock that’s very hard to pick, a poison needle trap (see Dungeon Master’s Guide, chapter 5, “Traps”) that deals 18d10 poison damage (none of that weak stuff the guards coat their blades with—Maela’s poisons are top-shelf), and an arcane lock spell that yields to no one but Maela and the chief inquisitor. While the spell is active, anyone else trying to unlock or pick the lock is driven to distraction by the vivid sensation of spiders crawling over their hand; attempting to turn the lock causes the phantom spiders to deliver an agonizing bite. The priestess keeps the key to the coffer in a hidden pocket of her clothing. If her life is ever in danger, she can flee the temple through a secret back way, a shortcut to an entry/exit passage that leads deeper into the realms beneath Ered Mund—and she’ll take the scrolls with her. She keeps her treasure in her bedchamber, in chests with hard-to-pick lever tumbler locks and simple, off-the-rack needle traps that deliver ordinary poison rather than her custom blend. The armory and poison brewery (A, B) are unguarded except by iron doors with hard-to-pick locks. The mines (C) are watched over by civilian supervisors who yell for the guards if there’s any trouble. Guard patrols are assigned to critical and vulnerable infrastructure: the farms where the drow cultivate mushrooms and graze deep rothé on cave moss (D), the storehouse where the food is kept (E), and the pumps that provide drinking water and drainage (F). Each of these sites is paired with one of the three passages into and out of Eienenn Don. At any given time, the drow diagon who commands the patrol,
the elite warriors, and four of the regular drow stand guard over their assigned asset, watching for hints of unrest, while the remaining two drow are sent off to keep an eye on the associated entrance. Each entrance to Eienenn Don includes a straight passage at least 120 feet long and no more than 5 feet wide, in which intruders are in enfilade the whole way. At the beginning of the last 120 feet, a simple alarm is set: a bell on a wire stretched across the passage. It’s not much, but it’s easy to miss in the dark (DC 20 to spot it—with disadvantage if it’s not brightly illuminated), and the sound resonates down the passage. Disarming it is a piece of cake (DC 10 Dexterity check). At the end of each entry passage is a 5-foot-wide, 10-foot-deep blind, from which the two drow assigned to sentry duty by their patrol can observe the passage from behind three-quarters cover and take turns standing up to shoot, then crouching down again. Ordinary darkvision has a range of just 60 feet, but the drow can see in total darkness up to 120 feet, allowing them to spot intruders before most intruders can spot them. This advantage negates the disadvantage they receive from using their hand crossbows at long range. The sentries’ strategy is to shoot at intruders for as long as they appear bewildered. When the intruders gather their wits enough to charge or otherwise fight back, the sentries ditch the blind and withdraw through a doorway where a huge, circular stone can be rolled into place to block off the passage. The stone is 5 feet in diameter and 1 foot thick, and it weighs 600 pounds; even with the help of an iron lever, it takes both drow working together to roll it into place, and four to roll it out of the way and open the passage again. From the outside, it simply isn’t possible to get enough leverage on the stone to roll it out of the doorway, although one can push it inward far enough to get around it or topple it with a successful DC 27 Strength (Athletics) check; however, there’s room for only one person in the doorway arch, so that has to be a solo effort. Otherwise, reopening the passage requires destroying the stone (AC 17, 32 hp, damage threshold 18, immune to cold, fire, poison, and psychic damage, along with piercing and slashing damage from nonmagical weapons). Additional such stones exist at the boundaries between levels of the city.
Once the stone is rolled into place, the sentries hightail it back to their patrols, sending a dancing lights spell ahead of themselves to visually “sound” the alarm and to indicate, through the positioning of the lights, how many enemies have been sighted. Their drow diagon commanders in turn use sending stones to notify the commander on duty—either Kadour or Kaertevel. He activates the reserve patrol, whose barracks (G) are convenient to a central battle position from which it can move easily toward the farms, the food stores, the waterworks, or the temple, as needed. Then he and his acolytes go to join the guard patrol that’s dealing with the intrusion. Meanwhile, that patrol reorients itself toward the entrance, on the reasonable assumption that whoever’s trying to force their way in right now poses more of a clear and present danger than a potential revolt. The commanding drow diagon and regular drow guards stay put while the drow elite warriors, experts in stealth, head toward the entrance to observe and, if the opportunity presents itself, harass. It’s possible that the would-be intruders will never get past the rolling stone door, in which case the drow come down from full alert after about an hour. The reserve unit relocates to watch that door for the remainder of its shift, and if nothing more happens, then everything goes back to normal. If the intruders break through, the elite warriors listen and observe briefly, trying to discern the intent behind the intrusion. Not for too long, though, because they need to stay ahead of their targets. Before the intruders can advance past them, they fall back to a subsequent position, still hidden, still listening. (Exception: If the intruders send a lone scout forward, they allow the scout to pass them by. They tail the scout until they’re a safe distance from the rest of the trespassing group. Then they murder the scout.) When the intruders start to get close to one of the more critical areas of Eienenn Don—that is, when the drow elite warriors have fallen back to within 120 feet of their guard patrol’s battle position, or the battle position of a different patrol—they send their own dancing lights alert as a get-ready signal. Then they take up alternate positions from which they can hit the enemy force once their allies fix it in place. OceanofPDF.com
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It may be that the invaders’ intentions are immediately obvious and also that they pose a serious threat. In this case, the drow elite warriors may need to soften their foes up a bit before the main encounter. By no means do they want this fight to be a protracted engagement: It’s a skirmish, nothing more. They deal as much damage as they can, as quickly as they can, from as far away as they can, and then they withdraw, preferably before taking even a single hit. With one daily darkness spell each, they have two opportunities to lay into their foes before creating a magical blackout and slipping away, free from the danger of opportunity attacks. When the intruders and the guard patrol come into contact, the drow diagon commander casts web in an attempt to literally fix the enemy in place while the elite warriors and regular guards shoot. If web fails to restrain the intruders, she switches to conjure animals, while one of the regular drow forgoes a crossbow shot to cast faerie fire. The main goal is to prevent the enemy from reaching the critical infrastructure asset, unless that asset is clearly not what the enemy is after. It will quickly become apparent which side is on the right foot and which side is on the wrong one. If the invaders are in disarray, the guard commander and the elite warriors move in to deliver the decisive blow with their swords. If the invaders’ assault is too strong to withstand, however, then the guard patrol must fall back. This time it’s the diagon who casts darkness around the foes, while the guard commander falls back along with the regular drow and acolytes; the elite warriors fight to delay the invaders until their fellow drow are in the clear, then withdraw as well. There should be little doubt by this point what the invaders are after, and by extension, which way they’re headed. As the defenders pass within range of the reserve patrol, they signal for assistance, coding the invaders’ objective into their dancing lights, and the reserve moves in stealthily to hit the attackers’ flank the next time they make contact with the defenders. Disloyalty is punished severely in drow society, so the defenders must fight to the last, inflicting as much damage on their assailants as they can before they fall. If the intruders do somehow reach the temple, it’s hoped that the defenders will have weakened them enough that Maela and Nolwenn can finish the job. But if
the intruders are still coming on strong, Maela attempts the bold gambit of stepping out onto the temple balcony and trying to talk them out of their objective. After all, she’s as strong in social interaction as she is in combat, if not stronger, and her Insight skill gives her an understanding of what her foes want and are motivated by, which in turn gives her bargaining power. She can zero in on their psychological Achilles’ heels—pity, ego, insecurity, curiosity, greed, grandiosity, complaisance, scruples—and present credible-sounding reasons why they should forget about what they came there for and do things that serve her interests instead. The moment they balk, though, she heads for the door. Nolwenn stays behind to delay them—attempting to summon a shadow demon to help out— while Maela grabs the Levrennoù Loar. Then the two make for the secret exit, Nolwenn dropping a cloudkill spell behind them in the temple and Maela summoning a yochlol to guard the exit as they flee. OceanofPDF.com
ABOLETH GROTTO Minimum recommended party: four level 13 or five level 11 PCs The last anyone heard from Quiondesia Tranocre, she was searching for artifacts in the province of Zama. In her last letter, a year and a half ago, she mentioned making contact with some priests—cultists, really—who claimed to worship a god called Úuchben. She doubted the being’s godhood and declared her intention to discover its real nature. Nohoch Úuchben Máako le K’áak’náabo’ is the full name of the aboleth that lives in the sea caves of Zama, which has transformed and enthralled Quiondesia along with many others. The locals worship Úuchben in a grotto they call Áaktun Úuchben. This grotto is at the bottom of a cenote—a karst sinkhole— where a solution cave system links up to the sea. These caves are Úuchben’s lair. By befouling all the other water sources within a mile of its cave entrance but leaving the water in the grotto pure, Úuchben gradually drew the people of Zama into its sphere of psychic influence and earned their devotion. Feeding its ego off their worship, Úuchben uses them as a buffer, as sources of information… and, from time to time, as thralls. ASSETS The aboleth has no interest in material treasure. For that matter, it has little interest in defending its own life: Even if its body is destroyed, its soul will remain intact, reincorporating on the elemental plane of water. As for lore, it doesn’t keep its knowledge in written form, or in any material form, but rather in its boundless memory. What, then, does Úuchben have to protect? Its psyche. What’s most intrinsically valuable to the aboleth is having dominion over others. Being worshiped feeds its sense of self-importance. Stripping lesser beings of their freedom gratifies it. It doesn’t wield power out of any grandiose, worldconquering expansionist impulse. Just the opposite: Its ambitions are absurdly,
unaccountably petty. The more insignificant the conquest, the more Úuchben craves it. The arrangement it has right now is ideal: In an out-of-the-way corner of a lesser continent on an undistinguished world in a prosaic plane of existence, Úuchben rules supreme. It doesn’t want any part of this state of affairs to change. The one and only asset that the aboleth is protecting, therefore, is the status quo—and it will defend that with every means at its disposal. Who threatens the status quo? Outsiders. Meddlers. Boat-rockers with weird alien notions of “freedom” and “autonomy,” whose overly narrow definitions of “god” fail to include a being that clearly possesses the ability to compel devotion. Better to keep all such interlopers far away, through secrecy and isolation if possible, through force if necessary. DEFENSE It’s worth reiterating that the aboleth’s goal is not to kill PCs but to protect its one asset: the way things are. Therefore, its security is heavily weighted toward deterrence. Specifically, if you’re planning on mucking around with Úuchben’s little cult, Úuchben wants you gone, now. At this point, Úuchben has had enough time to charm everyone in Zama. Literally everyone: There’s no one left uncharmed. All the Zamans have relocated to within a mile of Áaktun Úuchben, on the aboleth’s orders, so that there’s no chance that its influence will wear off. Because they’re under its control, they have no choice but to report anything out of the ordinary that they notice to the aboleth, and they can do so telepathically. Just in case there’s anything an ordinary villager might miss, however, there are several deep scions (see Volo’s; use mental ability scores and skill proficiencies from the plant stat block, appendix B) walking among the population, alert to the arrival of strangers and prepared to worm their way into their confidences. It’s going to be hard for anyone to slip into Zama without the aboleth’s knowing.
The Zamans’ unnervingly robotic conformity, and the sheer number of them who are enthralled, should suffice to make any ordinary interloper balk. If further dissuasion is needed, however, there’s the fact that Úuchben’s high priest (use the kraken priest stat block from Volo’s; Thunderous Touch deals psychic rather than thunder damage, and the Voice of the Aboleth speaks Deep Speech and is creepily sibilant rather than thunderous) commands the loyalty of 180 cultists, of whom 72 are present in and around the grotto at any given time during the day, 36 at night. If they’re attacked, they alert Úuchben telepathically, and the aboleth uses a regional effect of its lair to project an illusion of itself into the cenote to intimidate the assailants (while it remains safely hidden underwater). These devotees are fanatics and remain loyal to Úuchben even if they take damage and their charmed condition ends. After the high priest and cultists have been engaged in combat for a couple of rounds, Úuchben swims into the grotto to support them with its lair actions; it
mostly stays submerged during the fight, but if its opponents have destroyed its illusion once already, it pops up when they’re off their guard and attacks them with unexpected corporeality before diving back below. The aboleth also sends forth additional reinforcements: several transformed adventurers (choose from the stat blocks in appendix B—Quiondesia is a transformed ranger) who emerge from the cenote to join the fight. Whether or not the odds are in the attackers’ favor, seeing this reminder of what fate could befall them as well should chill their blood and cause them to second-guess themselves. The transformed adventurers are not fanatics, and if they take damage and cease to be charmed, they stop fighting. They fear Úuchben, however, and are bereft of hope for their own futures, since they know of no remedy for the disease that shackles them to the water and makes them unfit to be anything but servitors of the aboleth. Only if the disease is cured will they have the nerve to join the fight against Úuchben. The fanatical devotees are Úuchben’s main response force, which it counts on to handle all comers. If they’re defeated, or about to be, the aboleth will have already lost the one asset it cares about defending. Then the question will be whether it’s in any position to exact revenge. If it judges that its foes are weakened enough by the fight for it to transform, enslave, or otherwise punish them, it will stick around and take its best shot. If it knows it doesn’t stand a chance, it will abandon the fight and make a break for the sea. If the situation is ambiguous, it abandons the grotto and withdraws to a fallback position deeper in the sea caves (B). To catch it, its enemies will have to penetrate its watery lair, which is a challenge all its own. Moreover, there’s one last unpleasant surprise to be found in the sea caves: The water in the cenote is fresh. The water beneath it, which comes from the sea, is salty. Trapped between the two, 100 feet below the surface, there’s a 10-foot-deep layer of hydrogen sulfide. Water breathing or similar magic protects against the deleterious effects of water pressure, but it doesn’t protect against this toxic substance. When a creature first enters the layer of H2S or begins its turn there, it takes 10 (4d4) acid damage and must make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw. On a failed save, the creature is poisoned; if the saving throw fails by 5 or more, the creature is also blinded. In addition, any
water-breathing creature that doesn’t hold its breath while passing through the H2S layer immediately begins choking (see Player’s Handbook, chapter 8, “Suffocating”). Úuchben, aware of the layer’s presence and protected by its Mucous Cloud, is unaffected by it. OceanofPDF.com
ESOTERIC SOCIETY MEETINGHOUSE Minimum recommended party: four level 17 or five level 15 PCs Nothing on the outside distinguishes the terraced house from its nearly identical neighbors on Croke Street in the city of Fairwind. However, while those other houses are owned by minor nobles and wealthy merchants, this one is owned by the Orbis Tertius Society, an exclusive fellowship of arcane cognoscenti with a particular interest in divination, interplanar communication and travel, and the altering of reality. Their ends are not known to be evil, especially—nor are they known to be good, lawful, chaotic, or anything else. Little, in fact, is known about them at all. That in itself is worrisome to certain worldly powers, who would prefer that their reality not be altered, at least not by anyone other than them. ASSETS Library. Thanks to support from a couple of very wealthy members, the Orbis Tertius Society owns not only its own meetinghouse but also an extensive library, full of books on natural philosophy, epistemology, metaphysics, and the occult. The society’s members see knowledge, especially esoteric knowledge, as having value in and of itself (intrinsic value: 4), and this particular collection has been carefully curated to appeal to the members’ interests (intangible value: 2). The books are superb in both their quality and their rarity, but they’re not exactly general-interest, so anyone trying to sell them might have to settle for less than their full worth (monetary value: 2). Total value: 8. Magical library. Included within the library is a collection of grimoires describing concepts, forms, and applications of teleportation, divination, and summoning magic. A wizard perusing them for spells to copy would have access to banishment, dimension door, contact other plane, dream, far
step, planar binding, scrying, teleportation circle, arcane gate (X), scatter (X), dream of the blue veil (T), etherealness, plane shift, teleport, demiplane, astral projection, foresight, gate, and wish. That’s a jackpot find, and the members of the society know it. They esteem these spellbooks not only for their own sake (intrinsic value: 4) and for their comprehensiveness and appositeness (intangible value: 2) but also for their sheer usefulness (operational value: 4). Although they themselves are not yet capable of casting all the spells within these books—their spellcasting ability tops out at 7th level—they’re keenly aware of what could be done with the most powerful of those spells and are determined to keep the knowledge in their own hands. They also know how much these rare tomes cost, and how much they could fetch if resold (monetary value: 4). Total value: 14. Well of many worlds. This legendary magic item (monetary value: 4) is most beneficial for the members’ explorations of other worlds and planes of existence (operational value: 4, intangible value: 1). Total value: 9. Amulet of the planes. While not quite as useful for methodical cosmic exploration as the well of many worlds, this very rare item (monetary value: 3) is still helpful for reaching planes of existence for which the society’s members lack rods tuned to their resonant frequencies—and for getting back from ones reached accidentally (operational value: 3, intangible value: 1). Total value: 7. Material components. Some of the magic performed by the society’s members requires costly components. These include the gem-infused inks and chalks needed in order to draw teleportation circles, powdered silver and iron for drawing wards, tuned rods for travel to various planes, gemstones for binding conjured creatures, and a silver scrying bowl. To a spellcaster of modest means, these might seem like a fortune’s worth of resources, but among the society’s assets, they represent a relatively middling expense (monetary value: 2). They are, however, quite useful (operational value: 4). Total value: 6. The meetinghouse. Real estate on a high-class street like Croke Street doesn’t come cheaply. The Orbis Tertius Society’s meetinghouse is more expensive than an ordinary guildhall (monetary value: 3), but the exclusive
location comes with certain perks, including the presumption that its owners aren’t to be disturbed by the common rabble (intangible value: 1). It also offers comfortable space for study, discourse, and magical experimentation (operational value: 2). Total value: 6. Art objects. Most of the meetinghouse is comfortably, if soberly, appointed, but the society flaunts its wealth in the upstairs drawing room, where members gather to enjoy one another’s company in the evening. This room sports a number of elegant objets d’art, ranging in value from 250 gp to 2,500 gp apiece (monetary value: 2), chosen for their relevance to the members’ interests (intangible value: 1). The furniture in this room is exceptionally finely crafted as well. Total value: 3. Members of the society. The Orbis Tertius Society’s members value their own lives, and one another’s, to the extent you’d expect (intrinsic value: 4); they also enjoy a bond of loyalty and fellowship (intangible value: 1). They defend themselves and each other, but they’ll readily take an arrow to defend the group, its assets, and its secrets. Total value: 5. The society’s ultimate goal is to conceive of a new world, then to turn the known world into it. It operates in secrecy, knowing the extent to which the powers that be would feel threatened by its activities. From a security perspective, however, dealing with an attack on the society’s assets by the crown or a religious sect is one problem; dealing with an attack by one or more rival wizards is another altogether. While any other attacker could steal the society’s assets, a more powerful wizard could not only steal them but use them, in particular the grimoires. Protecting the society’s assets against thugs or thieves is important, but protecting them against other mages is essential. Its defensive measures must be thorough. The most potentially vulnerable of the society’s assets is its magic library. Magic items and spell components can be locked up, but the library is meant to be used, and members have the run of it when it’s open. The art objects are likewise out in the open, but protecting them is far less important; if a thief broke in and stole one, it would be more insult than injury. The defense of the meetinghouse itself should suffice to protect the curios that adorn it.
The library is, of course, most vulnerable when it’s open. The magic items are vulnerable only when they’re being used, and that consideration applies mainly to the well of many worlds, since the amulet of the planes must be carried by its user. None of the society’s assets ever needs to be transported anyplace. While its members’ social activities follow the same daily pattern as those of any other patrician club, its magical explorations happen when they happen. The society keeps its activities very hush-hush, so ideally, no one should have any idea what assets it possesses, let alone when those assets can be more easily targeted. The society could survive the loss of the magic items, although it would hate to lose them—and in the wrong hands, they could be dangerous. The magic library is irreplaceable, essential, the society’s raison d’être. DEFENSE The Orbis Tertius Society has ten members (see the Orbis Tertius Society member stat block, appendix B) and employs a household staff of eight: a steward, a cook, a housekeeper, a hall porter, and a librarian (see the Orbis Tertius Society skilled hireling stat block, appendix B), plus two general domestic servants and a page (commoners). The members all have homes of their own elsewhere, but the staff live in the meetinghouse: The librarian has a room on the top floor, while the rest live in quarters in the basement. They rarely get days off, but they’re carefully vetted and very well paid. The members know you can’t keep a secret society secret if the servants are disgruntled. In addition, the society employs a spy (see the snoop stat block, appendix B) whose sole job is to sit at a tavern up the block from morning till night, watch the street, and inform the steward of anything suspicious through a set of sending stones. A windowless façade would stick out like a sore thumb on Croke Street, so every window in the meetinghouse is lined with trespasser’s bane (see appendix A), which sounds an audible alarm when anyone attempts to break in (the society’s members and staff can reach through to open and close the windows without setting it off). The windows on the top story have all been bricked in, with a permanent major image spell laid over them to hide the work. Additionally, the library’s windows are enchanted with glyphs of warding with
DC 16 hideous laughter spells stored in them. (The areaway beneath these windows is surrounded by a wrought-iron fence with spiked finials. Anyone who falls upon them takes an additional 1d4 damage from the 20-foot fall, and all damage is piercing rather than bludgeoning.) OceanofPDF.com
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Lamps throughout the meetinghouse are enchanted as lanterns of revealing, making invisible creatures visible in their light, and their fields of illumination overlap. The top two floors are protected by a custom-shaped private sanctum spell that suppresses divination magic (though not teleportation or planar travel) and a guards and wards spell, by which the society’s members and staff are unaffected. As part of the latter spell, the doors on the upper floors are disguised as plain sections of wall, and anyone unaffiliated with the society who passes through the 5-foot-square area just inside the library door is targeted by a DC 16 suggestion that they’re trespassing on private property and should leave the premises immediately and not come back. At night, the librarian uses Norton’s phantom sentry (see appendix A) to cast faithful hound in the library. Another of the perks of a Croke Street address is access to some of the finest artisans—including locksmiths. The exterior doors, the library, and the top-floor rooms are all secured with difficult-to-pick locks (DC 20), enhanced further by arcane lock spells (on the upper floors, these are part of guards and wards). A journeyman wizard can easily bypass arcane lock with knock or dispel magic, but part of the society’s deterrence strategy is to force any trespassing wizard to burn through spell slots by casting these spells over and over. For the same reason, the meetinghouse contains a truly disgusting number of glyphs of warding, many of them containing higher-level spells that require intruders to spend scarcer spell slots to get rid of them. A couple of these are on the roof. The front door is overseen by another of the society’s skilled hirelings, the hall porter, whose nominal responsibility is to receive all messages, packages, and visitors from outside but who is also a trained bouncer. If anyone tries to bluff or bully their way past the front door, the hall porter first calmly and politely asks them to leave. If they force their way in, the hall porter calmly but much less politely informs them that they’re trespassing on private property and need to go now, then moves to escort them all the way off the premises. If the trespasser doesn’t cooperate or, worse, seems about to turn violent, the hall porter Disengages and withdraws from the front hall. The first pursuer to step on the glyph of warding in the front hall (A)—the first of many—gets boxed in by a solid, box-shaped forcecage spell that also corks the hallway. (Did I mention that the Orbis Tertius Society is handsomely funded?)
Deliveries of food and household supplies are made at the back door, through an areaway entrance that leads down to the basement. This door is supervised by a third skilled hireling, the steward, who opens the door only for familiar faces. The glyph of warding inside this door (B) releases a fog cloud spell. When members of the society become aware of a breach, they use Argraban’s specular gateways (see appendix A) to travel quickly from their homes to the meetinghouse. There are four gateways in the meetinghouse: one in the first- floor hall, one in the morning room, one in the drawing room, and one in the library; roll 1d4 to randomly determine which mirror each member enters the house through during an incursion. Since none of the members lives more than 6 miles away, those who aren’t at the meetinghouse when the breach occurs can be on the premises in 3 minutes or less, with the first eight arriving in 5 to 10 rounds (see table below). ORBISTERTIUS SOCIETYRESPONSE Once a total of 10 Orbis Tertius Society members are already present or have subsequently arrived, no more join the encounter. Round Early to Midmorning Midmorning to Early Evening Evening to Midnight Midnight to Early Morning Already present 1d8 + 2 members (in morning room and coffee room) 1d6 members (in coffee room and library) 1d6 + 4 members (in drawing room, library, portal room, and summoning room) 1d6 – 3 members (minimum 0, in portal room or summoning room) 1–3 — — — — 4 2 add’l members arrive — — — 5 — 2 add’l members arrive 1 add’l member arrives 4 add’l members arrive 6 — — — — 7 2 add’l members arrive 2 add’l members arrive 1 add’l member arrives 2 add’l members arrive 8 1 add’l member arrives 2 add’l members arrive — 1 add’l member arrives 9 — — — — 10 1 add’l member arrives 1 add’l member arrives 1 add’l member arrives 1 add’l member arrives dd l b dd l b dd l b dd l b
2 min 1 add’l member arrives 1 add’l member arrives 1 add’l member arrives 1 add’l member arrives 3 min — 1 add’l member arrives 1 add’l member arrives 1 add’l member arrives Until then, the skilled house staff do what they can to deceive, disrupt, and delay intruders without putting themselves directly in harm’s way, while the untrained staff run to their rooms and lock the doors. The house staff aren’t spellcasters, but each of the five skilled staff members carries a magic item and knows how to use it: The steward has a gem of brightness, plus a sending stone for communication with the tavern spy. The cook has a potion of fire breath. The hall porter has a deck of illusions. The housekeeper has a wind fan. The librarian wears eyes of charming, made to resemble normal spectacles. In addition, each has been provided with one bead of force. When the members have arrived in force, the house staff withdraw and leave the defense of the meetinghouse to them, defending only themselves and the rest of the staff. The members maintain as much distance from intruders as they can, take cover around corners, and ruthlessly exploit the fact that they’re not affected by the meetinghouse’s guards and wards spell but strangers are. Whenever they land a solid hit—literally or figuratively—they withdraw to alternate positions, staying spread out so that they’re not as easily targeted by area-effect spells and can cover one another in the event of unwanted melee engagement. The members of the society aren’t interested in killing intruders, unless they appear to have no other recourse. Their chief strategy is to disorient, divide, and disable their opponents, knocking them—and keeping them—so thoroughly off-balance that they’re incapable of achieving their objective. Once all intruders are neutralized, the members pump them for what information they can; cast geas on them one by one, compelling them to zealously spread the word that the Orbis Tertius Society is a philanthropic organization worthy of the highest praise; and conclude with modify memory, scrambling their recollections of what they saw and experienced inside the meetinghouse. Only if this plan is clearly not going to succeed do they turn to overt violence. There are glyphs of warding (save DC 16) at all the locations marked on the map, plus one at either end of the rooftop (both E):
GLYPHS OF WARDING Glyph Stored Spell A forcecage B fog cloud C resilient sphere D darkness E confusion F bestow curse (7th level, must succeed on Wisdom save to take action) G hold person H hypnotic pattern I banishment OceanofPDF.com
GRANDMOTHER HAG DWELLING Minimum recommended party: four level 15 or five level 13 PCs The stories say that Baba Obmorozhenya awakened a whole forest, led the trees on a march to the mossy tundra a half day’s travel north of the village of Krivderevya, where summer lasts only a month, handed each tree an axe, and commanded them to cut one another down so that she could build the timberframed house in which she lives. The stories say the bones that lie in front of her house belong to a mammoth that fell over dead when she looked it in the eye, and that she leapt upon it and feasted on its flesh without stopping until those bones were bare. The stories say a mob of villagers, angry and fearful, marched from Krivderevya to drive her from the district, and that she stepped forth from her house, laughed her blood-freezing laugh, waved her staff, and imprisoned every last villager in a block of ice. The stories are told in whispers, for fear that she’ll overhear. ASSETS Mirror of life trapping. While none of the stories people tell about Baba Obmorozhenya is entirely true, they’re all rooted in truth. More pertinently, though, they omit one of the most important facts: The grandmother hag is both nosy and spiteful, and when she doesn’t like what someone’s saying about her behind her back, she’s been known to kidnap the offender, spirit them back to her house, and imprison them in this magic item. It contains twelve extradimensional cells, which are always full. When a creature is freed to make room for a new abductee, Baba Obmorozhenya might let them go if they grovel at her feet profusely and sincerely enough. Most of the time, though, she just eats them. Mundane loot isn’t intrinsically valuable to her per se, but she both knows this item to be useful (operational value: 2) and considers it to be
beautiful (intangible value: 4), and the fact that it’s beautiful and magical sets it apart from ordinary shiny baubles (intrinsic value: 2). As a very rare magic item, it would fetch a great deal of money if sold (monetary value: 3). Total value: 11. Graystaff. This arcane focus allows her to fly and to cast spells that she can’t cast without it; no other item she possesses is nearly as useful to her (operational value: 4). As a fey being, she prizes objects that are unique and magically powerful, and this particular object is essential to who she is and what she does, increasing the weight she places upon it (intrinsic value: 3, intangible value: 4). Its salability as a collector’s item is undercut by the fact that no one but Baba Obmorozhenya can use it (monetary value: 1). Total value: 12. Crystal ball. The paranoid hag uses this item to spy on anyone she thinks has her name in their mouth. It’s magical and beautiful but far from unique (intrinsic value: 1, intangible value: 1); Baba Obmorozhenya prizes it more for its usefulness (operational value: 2). To a treasure-seeker, it’s a very rare magic item and rates accordingly (monetary value: 3). Total value: 7. Zhiznivor. A unique, sentient nine lives stealer shortsword, Zhiznivor fell into Baba Obmorozhenya’s hands more than a century ago. She has no use for a sword, but she holds on to it because preventing the weapon from fulfilling its purpose pleases her; she thinks of it not as an object but as a prisoner. To anyone who discovered she had it, it would have substantial operational (3) or monetary (3) value; to her, its value is mainly intangible (3), although as a powerful magic item it has some intrinsic value to her as well (1). Total value: 10. Potions. What self-respecting hag doesn’t brew potions? Baba Obmorozhenya’s inventory ranges from the uncommon (monetary value: 1, operational value: 1) to the very rare (monetary value: 3, operational value: 3). Total value: 2 to 6. Money. Baba Obmorozhenya has a lot of money (monetary value: 2), but she doesn’t give it that much thought. Total value: 2.
Baba Obmorozhenya. The legendary hag values exactly one life: her own (intrinsic value: 4, intangible value: 4). Total value: 8. Anyone trying to take Baba Obmorozhenya’s graystaff will have to do so over her dead body. Only a fool would think they could take it from her while she lives, and only a world-class adversary might have the power to slay her. However, as far as her assets go, it’s extremely vulnerable—exactly as vulnerable as she is herself. That’s because she needs it both to fly and to cast many of her most powerful spells. She relies on it so completely, she can’t let it out of her hands. If she must flee, she flees with it—and she’ll flee before she’ll give it up, even if her own life isn’t in imminent danger, although the circumstances in which she might have to give it up when her own life isn’t in danger are few and far between. Her next most valuable asset is her mirror of life trapping. As far as she’s aware, no one knows she has it, and she has no reason or need to take it out of the room in her house where she keeps it. Losing it wouldn’t hurt her in any way, but it would gall her to no end, and she’d never relent in her pursuit of vengeance. She’s not going to let it come to that, though: It goes behind the most powerful defenses she has at her disposal. The same things are true of Zhiznivor, although it’s possible, she’ll grant, that there might be someone left alive who knows, or can guess, that the sword has fallen into her hands. Therefore, since it’s a little more likely that someone might come looking for the legendary sword than for the mirror of life trapping, even though she rates its total value slightly lower, she gives it the same level of protection. As a legendary creature, Baba Obmorozhenya’s best means of defending her own life is by herself, through the use of her own powers and those of her lair. But she has a number of other tricks up her sleeve, and as long as she can retreat into her house, she can take advantage of all the protections she’s placed upon it and its contents. She’ll do that, therefore, as soon as it becomes apparent that her life is legitimately threatened. As for her other assets, the crystal ball receives some small extra amount of protection, but the potions require no more protection than they’re afforded by
being in the house to begin with. In fact, Baba Obmorozhenya will readily offer a potion or two to buy off anyone who seems like they might be dangerous but hasn’t yet made a move against her, as long as it gets them to stop sniffing around. She can always make more. DEFENSE The closest village to the house of Baba Obmorozhenya (see appendix B) is Krivderevya. In fact, it’s the only village near her house: The next closest village is a full day’s travel farther south. Unless they camp in the wilderness, approaching PCs will stay overnight at the “inn”—really, just a tavern that charges 1 sp a night for a more or less clean straw pallet in a back room, usually used by villagers too drunk even to walk home. Volimir Pokorny, a hunter, drinks at the tavern every night (use the snoop stat block with Strength and Dexterity 13, Nature and Survival +4, and a Shortbow attack with +3 to hit, dealing 1d6 + 1 piercing damage). His nerves shattered by a curse that Baba Obmorozhenya laid upon him long ago, he now spies for the hag, informing on his neighbors and alerting her to the arrival of anyone new. Whenever he has news to report, he hikes to the edge of the tundra and uses a pipe of smoke signals (see appendix A) to send a message up into the clouds. (The pipe is cursed: If Volimir drops it or attempts to give it away, it reappears in his possession 1d4 hours later.) Whenever she’s aware that anyone’s heading her way—or when she’s just feeling malicious, which is often—Baba Obmorozhenya casts control weather, producing arctic cold, gale-force winds, and blizzards within 5 miles of her for 8 hours. These conditions impose the effects of extreme cold, strong wind, and heavy snow precipitation, as described in the Dungeon Master’s Guide, chapter 5, “Wilderness Survival.” The weather in the area is pretty wretched even when it’s not under the influence of this spell, though: At the height of summer, daytime temperatures rarely reach above 50 degrees Fahrenheit, and nighttime temperatures are usually below freezing, while in the dead of winter, daytime highs of between 5 and 15 degrees below zero are common, and temperatures plummet to 30 below at night. The year-round average high temperature is 18 degrees; the average low, 10 degrees. When Baba Obmorozhenya controls the weather, her gales drive the
wind chill down to 5 below zero at night during the summer, to 20 to 40 below for most of the year, and to 45 to 80 below in midwinter. Blizzards strike daily within 1 mile of Baba Obmorozhenya’s house, halving travelers’ speed and reducing visibility to 30 feet while they’re occurring; the snows they leave behind accumulate, making the terrain difficult. That last mile of travel therefore takes 40 minutes at a normal pace when the skies are clear, an hour and 20 minutes in the midst of a blizzard. For every 20 minutes of daytime travel, roll on the encounter table below: RANDOM ENCOUNTERSAROUND BABA OBMOROZHENYA’S HOUSE All beasts are charmed by Baba Obmorozhenya and hostile to trespassers. They attack at an encounter distance of 6d6 × 10 feet and fight to the death. Reroll duplicate encounters. d12 Encounter 1–2 8 swarms of lemmings (use swarm of rats stat block) per PC. Each PC is attacked by 8 separate swarms. 3 2 swarms of common adders (use the swarm of poisonous snakes stat block) per PC. Each PC is attacked by 2 separate swarms. 4 1 swarm of ravens per PC. Each PC is attacked by a separate swarm. 5 4 swarms of insects per PC. Each PC is attacked by 4 separate swarms. 6–7 1d6 + 3 wolves 8 7d12 caribou (use the elk stat block, Medium size, Charge save DC 12, subtract 1 from attack bonuses and damage) 9–12 The party encounters a field of 1d4 + 10 human-size pillars of ice. Close inspection reveals that each pillar contains a frozen corpse. From each pillar, either the corpse (use the zombie stat block, with immunity to cold damage, if PCs are tier 2) bursts out and attacks, or its angry spirit (use the specter stat block, with immunity to cold damage, if PCs are tier 3 or 4) drifts out and attacks. At night, it’s too cold for many of these creatures to do anything but sleep. Use only the last encounter, but increase the number of pillars (and undead creatures) to 3d8 + 10. I If Baba Obmorozhenya is flying around outside and visibility is clear, she observes these encounters, goes on alert, and hastens back to her house. Before the interlopers arrive, she activates the mirror of life trapping, then, if she has time, scries on them through her crystal ball to figure out the best ways to attack
them. Making the connection takes 10 minutes, though, so if they’re already close to her house, she doesn’t bother. Lying on the ground in front of Baba Obmorozhenya’s house is an immense skeleton: the mammoth from the stories. It’s not merely a pile of bones, though. It’s an actual undead mammoth. And when trespassers come within 50 feet of it, it rises to its feet and attacks them (see the mammoth skeleton stat box, appendix B). That’s Baba Obmorozhenya’s cue to join the fight. She waits to attack until the second round of combat, when her enemies are thoroughly distracted by the enormous opponent in front of them. (If the PCs are tier 3 or higher, determine their average level, then throw in one pesky ice mephit for each level above 11 for good measure.) She flies around on her graystaff, keeping her distance from melee and using her blizzard lair action every other round, starting in round 2. If the mammoth skeleton is destroyed and she herself is moderately wounded (reduced to 105 hp or fewer), she withdraws into her house. The front door is protected by a glyph of warding with a cone of cold spell stored in it, which blasts out when anyone other than Baba Obmorozhenya touches it. Meanwhile, the hag darts into the next room and causes all the open doors in the front room to slam shut and lock. Alternating between the lair actions that let her pass through walls and doors and close and open doors and windows, she turns her house into a maze that will lead intruders past her, past the rooms where she keeps Zhiznivor and the crystal ball, and into the room where she keeps the mirror of life trapping. The path is a minefield, littered with glyphs of warding and symbols placed to wear trespassers down by cursing them, injuring them, and forcing them to cast dispel magic and remove curse repeatedly, depleting their spell slots: MAGIC GLYPHS Glyph Effect A explosive runes (7d8 cold damage) B explosive runes (7d8 lightning damage) C bestow curse (5th level, disadvantage on Charisma checks and saving throws) D bestow curse (5th level, must succeed on Wisdom save to take action) b l f l
E symbol of Hopelessness Baba Obmorozhenya has to be very careful, though. Once her enemies are in the room with the mirror of life trapping—which has a chance of trapping anyone who sees their own reflection in it—she has to hurry back to the room and be prepared to finish the rest of them off. That’s because, while most of the victims trapped in the mirror are nobody special, one of them is Branyma Smyelaya, a knight who can cause the hag some legitimate difficulty if she gets loose. Whenever someone is trapped by the mirror, roll 1d12. On a roll of 7, they’re trapped in Branyma’s cell, and she’s set free. (Keep track of these rolls: They determine which of the mirror’s twelve cells a trapped victim is placed in. If someone’s number comes up again, they pop back out.) Also, someone might get the idea of trying to break the mirror, which would free all the prisoners trapped in it. All the PCs, plus Branyma, plus a mob of possibly emboldened commoners, are more than Baba Obmorozhenya can handle if she’s already badly wounded, and if that’s what confronts her, she’ll flee the room and lead them on a wild-goose chase around the house, hoping they’ll stumble over a couple more glyphs of warding and give her a chance to regain the upper hand after downing a potion or two. OceanofPDF.com
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If Baba Obmorozhenya is seriously wounded (reduced to 60 hp or fewer) without any further way to get that number back up, it’s time for her to withdraw and escape. If she can manage it, she’ll retrieve Zhiznivor before flying away as fast as she can on her graystaff. OceanofPDF.com
FEY COURT Minimum recommended party: four level 16 or five level 15 PCs Castle Everhold, at the heart of the fey forests of Clutch, is the home and palace of Greengrasp, ruler of that domain. Greengrasp is both domineering and greedy, his four gangly arms ending in long-fingered hands that clench and release as regularly as he breathes, and he demands opulent gifts from anyone who would enter Everhold or seek a favor from him. He hosts captivating festivities, though, and his court is a glittering marvel, which many are willing to pay the price of admission just to see firsthand. The richness of his treasure hoard is reputed to boggle the mind. ASSETS Greengrasp is unusually materialistic for an archfey: While all fey tend to be possessive of their belongings, it’s generally the significance of things, rather than their monetary value, that gives them perceived value. Not to greedy Greengrasp! Unlike most fey, he considers loot to be valuable in and of itself, which boosts the total value of all his treasure (intrinsic value: 4) relative to his other assets. Precious metals. Greengrasp’s treasury contains a fortune in not only coins but silver and gold bars (monetary value: 4). Each gold bar weighs 30 pounds and is worth 1,500 gp; each silver bar weighs 60 pounds and is worth 3,000 sp. Coins are common currency, but not everyone has access to whole bars of silver and gold—not even dragons!—so Greengrasp finds them particularly pleasing (intangible value: 1). Total value: coin 8, bars 9. Gems and jewelry. Aside from their monetary value (4), the labor and skill required to cut these stones and work these pieces increases their beauty and confers greater worth upon them (intangible value: 2). Total value: 10.
Magic items. Greengrasp is particularly drawn to enchanted jewelry— rings, necklaces, brooches, circlets, and so forth—but uncommon magic items are unremarkable among the fey, and Greengrasp considers these beneath him. For a gift of a magic item to impress him, the item must be at least rare, and these are what end up in his treasury. The intangible value he assigns to them is commensurate with the monetary value they’d have to a thief—or the operational value they’d have to an adventurer (rare: 2, very rare: 3, legendary: 4). All these types of value contribute to the items’ total value: rare items 10, very rare items 13, legendary items 16. Loot in transport. Not all of Greengrasp’s wealth is secure in his treasury. Some of it is en route through his realm from the mines where it’s unearthed. While as coveted as his other treasures (intrinsic value: 4), any given load comprises only as much loot as can be piled into a cart or wagon (monetary value: 2). Total value: 6. Mines. Similarly, the mines themselves are scattered across his realm, distant from Everhold. Unlike the loot they produce, they’re not valuable simply because they exist; instead, their value lies in their productive capacity (economic value: 4), with some small additional weight given to the fact that he’s proud to possess them and their bounty (intangible value: 1). Total value: 5. Exclusivity. Not for any rabble to enter Everhold, oh, no. Access to Greengrasp’s court is a jealously guarded prize—a gift that requires repayment. And what Greengrasp expects in return is self-abasement and flattery, preferably coupled with a material gift. Party crashers who show insufficient deference may be able to avoid his wrath by kindling his greed with a tantalizing offering, but it’s a gamble: An insufficiently engrossing offering will only offend and enrage him. As a measure of Greengrasp’s status, the exclusivity of his court has both intrinsic (4) and intangible (4) value to him. Total value: 8. Greengrasp. Even though, as an archfey, he can’t really be killed, he still expects his guards to defend him as if he could be. He considers his own life to be valuable per se, of course (intrinsic value: 4), and he overrates it in proportion with his arrogance (intangible value: 4). Total value: 8.
Other lives. “Oh, yes, those people [waves hands dismissively]. Yes, I suppose their lives have value as well; it would be distasteful to have their blood on my hands. Also, some of them owe me favors” (intrinsic value: 2). The upshot is, while Greengrasp himself may not care a great deal for his subjects, his guards will respond to wanton murder. Total value: 2. Faerie is a roiling realm full of jealousy, envy, whimsy, and spite. The fey fall in swooning love and form brutal grudges as easily as changing clothes; rhapsodic compliments and caustic insults are exchanged like small talk, and social status is watched as closely as a stock ticker or the weekend’s sports scores. Who might try to steal from Greengrasp? Who might dare? Probably not whoever would have tried to steal from him last week, or who’ll try to steal from him next week—but someone. Rival archfey won’t ever come after his most coveted treasures directly, but they might well send agents, and fey thieves are an especially tricky bunch. On top of which, Clutch has a pest problem. Somehow, a colony of xorn managed to cross the barriers between planes and found Greengrasp’s domain to be a smörgåsbord of tasty delights. Fey politics are distracting enough, but nothing vexes Greengrasp nearly as much as being informed that xorn have consumed an entire drift’s worth of future rubies. To ensure that those burrowing abominations can’t get into his treasury, he’s made sure that it’s enclosed above, below, and on all sides by thick walls of dressed stone—but additional measures are necessary to protect his more vulnerable mines and transport wagons. Greengrasp’s ego won’t tolerate anyone stealing from his treasury. It wouldn’t injure him or disrupt his activities in any way, but the offense would be so great that he’d pursue vengeance as far as he could reach. Even the loss of a single mine cart enrages him to an extent that sends his retainers running. A dude with four arms can throw a lot of objects in anger. Unfortunately for his ego, and despite his archfey status, Greengrasp’s defensive resources aren’t unlimited. His first priority is to defend his treasury, in particular his rarest magic items. His next priority is keeping the riffraff out of Everhold. Only after that can he afford to give thought to protecting his mines