and transport wagons. Pragmatically, it would make much more sense to defend the mines and the wagons from bandits and xorn before defending his ballroom from hoi polloi, but alas, his fey vanity gets in the way. DEFENSE Greengrasp (see appendix B) has sharp eyes and a sharp nose, and he can see in the dark, but he doesn’t have any super-enhanced senses beyond those, and whatever other powers archfey may possess, nowhere is it written that they’re omniscient within their domains. Therefore, like any mundane ruler, he has to rely on guards assigned to security and reconnaissance tasks to handle the detection component of his security plan. However, he does have one advantage over his mundane counterparts: the Quickling Messenger Service, which utilizes the fleet-footed fey to carry news back to Everhold from all parts of Clutch. Those who visit Clutch would be well advised to buckle their satchels and cinch their pouches and rucksacks tightly, because the whole domain is influenced by Greengrasp’s avarice. Anyone crossing into Clutch, whether from the material world or another fey domain, must pass through a trollgate and pay the troll. That is, one troll demands a gold piece from each traveler who wishes to enter, while two others stand guard at the gate with crossed pikes (reach 10 feet, 2d10 + 4 piercing damage, replaces Claw attack as part of Multiattack), and if the travelers refuse to pay, they get stabbed. If they don’t have a fey guide to lead them to Everhold, the winding path they tread is very likely to lead them to another trollgate—or even the same one again—but there’s still no passing through without paying the troll. As in any fey domain, travel through Clutch is difficult and disorienting. Time and space dilate and contract, straight-seeming paths double back on themselves, and the land is in perpetual dusk, dimly lit at noon and midnight alike. Without a guide, travelers are much more likely to lose their way and stumble into trouble. Travelers might encounter any of the following within the borders of Clutch: RANDOM ENCOUNTERSIN CLUTCH
Roll three times on the table on the way to Everhold. If the party has a fey guide, roll only twice, and the PCs have advantage on ability checks to influence the outcome of the encounter. Reroll any duplicate outcome. d10 Encounter 1 The party must run a gantlet of 5 awakened trees and 6 awakened shrubs. Each PC must make a DC 20 Dexterity check. On a failure, an awakened tree snatches the PC’s pack. 2 The party is stalked by goblins, who wait for them to camp and rest. When just one PC is on watch, 36 goblins and a goblin boss waylay them, striking with their scimitars to deal nonlethal damage (use the Mob Attacks table in Dungeon Master’s Guide, chapter 8). The goblins then loot the PC’s unconscious body and steal as much as they can from the sleeping party. A successful DC 20 Wisdom (Perception) check by the PC on watch thwarts the ambush. 3 A giant ant (see appendix B) approaches the party and attempts to take the pack of a PC carrying food. A successful DC 20 Strength check retains control of the backpack. The giant ant is determined, however, and continues to try to take the pack. In round 3, it’s joined by 2 more giant ants; in round 5, it’s joined by 3 more; in round 7, it’s joined by 5 more; and in round 9, it’s joined by 8 more (use the Mob Attacks table in Dungeon Master’s Guide, chapter 8). The giant ants can be stopped only by running from them, creating a strong smell that confuses them, or seriously wounding them. If attacked, they fight back, Disengaging and moving away if reduced to 5 hp or fewer. 4 12 vine blights encircle the party at a distance of 10 feet, then use Entangling Plants to try to restrain the PCs. If successful, they try to take any object attached to the restrained PCs’ belts—bags, pouches, weapon sheaths, quivers, etc. (use the Disarm optional action, Dungeon Master’s Guide, chapter 9, “Action Options”; the vine blights have advantage on their attack rolls against restrained targets). A vine blight moves away once it’s taken something from a PC. If attacked, the vine blights fight back. 5 The party must make a DC 20 Wisdom group check. On a group failure, they stumble into the midst of a flock of 12 harpies that try to lure them into a 20-foot-deep ravine, then strike with their claws and clubs to deal nonlethal damage. If a PC is knocked unconscious, the harpies try to take their belt pouches and packs and fly away with them. On a group success, the party avoids the harpies altogether. 6 The party must make a DC 20 Wisdom group check. On a group failure, 36 kenku, with the coloration of magpies, have surrounded the party and emerge with bows drawn, making the sounds of jingling coins. They leave if the PCs hand over all their money, fight if they don’t (use the Mob Attacks table in Dungeon Master’s Guide, chapter 8), and flee if at least 12 of them are seriously wounded. On a group success, the party spots the skulking kenku and avoids them. 7 The party crosses paths with one of Greengrasp’s treasure wagons. The wagon is accompanied by 8 deep gnome miners, 12 fey guards (see appendix B), and 1 quickling (see Volo’s). Roll 1d4 to determine the type of draft animals pulling it (1: mules, 2: draft horses, 3: elk, 4: giant lizards) and 1d6 to determine its load (1: silver bars, 2–3: gold bars, 4: corundum rough, 5: beryl rough, 6: quartz rough). The guards warn the PCs to keep their distance. 8 After passing through a section of forest where the leaves of trees appear to be edged in silver and gold, each PC must make a DC 20 Wisdom saving h O f l C b h ll d
throw. On a failure, a PC begins to covet their allies’ treasure and to suspect their allies of planning to take their own treasure from them. While under this effect, their eyes turn green; if they’re green already, the whites turn green as well. The effect lasts until the PC completes a short or long rest. 9 A xorn rises out of the ground next to a PC and points to the PC’s pack with one claw, to the top flap with another, and to its mouth with a third. It gets increasingly agitated if it isn’t fed coins or gems, and it eventually tries to snatch the pack away (use the Disarm optional action, Dungeon Master’s Guide, chapter 9, “Action Options”). If successful, the xorn begins tearing the pack apart, looking for treasure to consume. 10 The party comes across a patrol of 6 xorn hunters (see appendix B), who have set out a pile of silver coins as bait to attract a xorn and are crouching hidden in a ring 70 feet from it. They’re initially indifferent but become hostile if their presence is given away. If 2 minutes pass without disturbance, such as making loud noises or walking through the xorn hunters’ circle, a xorn mouth opens up in the ground beneath the silver, and three xorn arms emerge to scoop the coins into it. The xorn hunters then cast misty step and rush in to attack the surprised xorn before it gets away. The road to Everhold passes through a town-size settlement called Copperpinch, which the castle overlooks, and leads uphill through several switchbacks to the castle gate. The wooden door is just wide enough to accommodate a wagon but high enough to impress visitors with its proportions —and to allow the 18-foot-tall Greengrasp to walk through without ducking— and it’s flanked by two towers with arrow slits in them. Gate guards demand that visitors state their names and business and (if festivities are taking place) show their invitations; if visitors bear gifts, the gate guards inspect them, to the extent that they’re able to. Quickling messengers ferry this information to the palace door guards, who double-check it when the visitors arrive—and alert other guards if the visitors don’t arrive in a timely manner. Inside the pal241ace, the door guards require each visitor to sign a guestbook with a quill of authentication (see appendix A). (Why wait until intruders are inside the palace to determine whether they’re who they say they are? Because if they’re still at the gate, it’s too easy for them to get away. Once they’re inside the wall, it’s easier to capture them.) The battlemented castle wall is 10 feet deep and rises 30 feet above its stone foundation, with towers at the corners rising another story high. Rather than a dreary old keep, Everhold surrounds a magnificent palace where Greengrasp holds court; a variety of outbuildings, supporting and housing the guard force, are built into the walls and connect directly to the towers. There are no dirt
floors anywhere in the castle: The palace, the outbuildings, and the entire bailey are tiled with tightly fitted paving stones, to prevent xorn from burrowing up from beneath. The palace is giant-size, built to Greengrasp’s proportions, although it does contain a network of humanoid-scale doors and passages for servants and guards, as well as a number of guest rooms suitable for visitors of every size from Tiny to Large. At the center of the palace is a large courtyard surrounded by a columned gallery. This gallery connects to the castle wall and to various other areas in the palace accessible only to guards, including alternate and fallback positions. Since there’s always someone around to open them, all exterior doors are secured on the inside with sturdy sliding bolts rather than key locks. At the back of the courtyard rises a stout tower with a giant-size door: Greengrasp’s treasury. The side and rear walls of this tower are 45 feet thick, to prevent anyone from getting through by casting passwall or transmute rock, and the uppermost 45 feet are solid stone as well. The only windows—arrays of tiny light shafts too narrow to fit a coin through—are on the front wall, facing the courtyard. The lock on the door is aliving lock (see appendix B). Behind this door, stairs lead up to the first of the two rooms of the treasury. Greengrasp’s gold and silver bars and coin are kept on the lower floor, the bars stacked on racks, the coin in chests. A spiral stair leads up to another locked door —this one with an ornate puzzle lock that’s very hard to crack, requiring successes on both Intelligence (Investigation) and Dexterity (thieves’ tools) checks and taking at least 1 minute to defeat—behind which the remainder of his treasure is kept. Gems, jewelry, and rare magic items are kept here in glasstopped display cases. Greengrasp’s very rare magic items are stored inside a cabinet with a nearly impossible-to-pick puzzle lock that requires Intelligence (Investigation) and Dexterity (thieves’ tools) checks, two sets of thieves’ tools to jimmy tumblers that must be turned simultaneously, and at least 10 minutes to defeat. The lock also contains a poison needle trap triggered by a failure on the Dexterity (thieves’ tools) check (see Dungeon Master’s Guide, chapter 5, “Traps”; this trap deals 4d10 poison damage rather than 2d10). Greengrasp’s legendary items are
secreted in a very hard-to-spot hidden compartment at the bottom of the cabinet. Greengrasp could theoretically command a regiment of 1,300 troops (onetenth his own experience point value), but that would exclude the many subjects he has making trouble for trespassers across his domain. Figuring that wandering monsters count for one-third of his experience point budget and regular troops the other two-thirds, Greengrasp can have at most one battalion of CR 1/2 troops, along with some higher-CR commanding officers and elite forces. These troops are divided into three companies of one hundred fey guards (see appendix B) and six quicklings (see Volo’s) guarding Everhold, one company per duty shift; one company of eighty fey guards and six quicklings assigned to defense of treasure wagons; another such company assigned to guarding the mines; and one company of eighty fey guards and four quicklings assigned to guarding the borders of Clutch. Each company is led by a captain (see appendix B) with Dexterity 14 (+2), Charisma 15 (+2), 60 feet of darkvision, Defensive Glamour, and Fey Nature (see the fey guard stat block). In addition, Greengrasp has ordered the creation of a special unit of twentyfour elite xorn hunters (see appendix B). The expense of equipping them with adamantine weapons pains Greengrasp, who dislikes spending money in nonconspicuous ways, but it doesn’t pain him as much as having his lands infested with xorn does. Finally, at any given time, he has two trolls as personal bodyguards, two standing guard outside the treasury, and two resting. There are several potential battle areas in the palace, but the most salient are the bailey, the courtyard, and Greengrasp’s audience hall. The palace guard has a primary position at each of these locations and dedicated passages by which it can easily move from one to another, as well as from primary positions to alternate positions. OceanofPDF.com
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Of the one hundred fey guards guarding the palace at any given time, sixty make up a response force, normally stationed in their primary position overlooking the bailey (A) but ready to rush to the courtyard or audience hall at a moment’s notice, while twenty guard the wall and the gate. Several of the wall guards are posted at supplementary positions. Two quicklings stay near the gate to run messages, while the other four conduct reconnaissance in pairs. Finally, the remaining twenty fey guards are kept in reserve in a ready room on the ground floor (B). When the main force manages to rout a group of intruders, the reserves move in to subdue, capture, and imprison them. As much as possible, Greengrasp tries to stay out of combat himself, engaging only if attacked directly. Even then, he lets his two troll bodyguards run interference for him. If that fight starts to go badly, he withdraws, attempting to join up with the fey guards, while his bodyguards delay the attackers for as long as they can. If he can’t rendezvous with his guards, he locks himself in the treasury and prepares to make a last stand there. The longer it takes his foes to catch up with him, the more he’ll have healed up whatever damage he’s taken, until he’s as fresh as a king-size, four-armed daisy. Qal’at as-Saḥāb Milā. OceanofPDF.com
GENIE’SPALACE Minimum recommended party: four level 20 or five level 19 PCs If you see a roiling thundercloud approaching, it may be an ordinary natural phenomenon—but then again, it may be Qal’at as-Saḥāb, the sky palace of the noble djinni Milāḥ, who travels the world in search of new knowledge and undiscovered beauty. In her palace, the kindly, gracious, and witty djinni hosts an everlasting salon, enlivened by the presence of several mortal shu’arā’: poets, musicians, and weavers of magic, on whom she’s bestowed a small portion of her own magical faculty in gratitude. Greater in power and stature than most djinn, though not on par with the rulers of her kind—and, therefore, not burdened by their responsibilities—she has the freedom to wander and follow her desires, a freedom she holds dearer than any possession. ASSETS Money. Milāḥ is rich, albeit not as rich as many noble genies. Her treasury contains about 18,000 silver coins and 2,300 gold coins—but these are djinni coins, three times the diameter and ten times the weight of normal silver and gold pieces, so each silver coin is worth 1 gp, and each gold coin is worth 1 pp (monetary value: 3). Total value: 3. Gems. She also has a cache of gemstones: fifteen altogether, each worth 1,000 gp (monetary value: 2). Gems are prettier than money (intangible value: 1), but Milāḥ’s attachment to them doesn’t go any further than that. Total value: 3. Magic items. The djinni has a collection of magic items acquired in her travels or received as gifts. A thief would ascribe both monetary and operational value to them in proportion to their rarity (uncommon: 1, rare: 2, very rare: 3)—probably more value than she ascribes to them, since she has no intention of selling them and uses them only rarely. They’re
pleasant curiosities to her, nothing more… with two exceptions. Total value: uncommon 2, rare 4, very rare 6. Al-Hawjā’. One exception is Milāḥ’s djinni-size scimitar of speed, which for Medium and Small creatures is equivalent in size to, and has the properties of, a greatsword. She’s fully cognizant of this enchanted weapon’s usefulness as a tool of self-defense (operational value: 3) and doesn’t underrate it, nor does she underrate the value it might have to someone looking to steal and sell it (monetary value: 3). She also likes how it feels in her hand (intangible value: 1). Total value: 7. Oud al-Mawsū‘ī. The other exception is this enchanted musical instrument (equivalent to a Canaith mandolin). To a thief, it’s not the biggest prize in Milāḥ’s collection (monetary value: 2, operational value: 2), but it’s special to her: She’s a lover of music, and while it’s too small for her to use herself, from time to time she takes it out and allows one of the bards in her court to play it just so that she can listen and enjoy the sound of it (intangible value: 2). Although the djinni isn’t materialistic by nature, she believes strongly that this oud, an object that not only is beautiful in and of itself but also brings even more beauty into the world, deserves to be handled with particular care and respect (intrinsic value: 2). Total value: 8. Pact gifts. From time to time, Milāḥ grows fond enough of certain mortals that she offers to confer special knowledge and power upon them. Customarily, they indicate acceptance of the offer and show their gratitude by presenting gifts in return. Milāḥ keeps a collection of these gifts—all the ones she’s received over the centuries—as mementos. They have material worth, to be sure (monetary value: 2), but to the djinni, their real importance lies in the memories they bring back (intangible value: 4). Total value: 6. Milāḥ. The djinni’s own life matters to her (intrinsic value: 4). Total value: 4. Shu’arā’. But the lives of others in her palace matter to her more! She considers their lives equal to her own in intrinsic value, and on top of that, she prizes the company of the shu’arā’ in her court (intangible value: 2). As
the most powerful being in Qal’at as-Saḥāb (save one), she’ll readily and willingly take an arrow for any of them. Total value: 6. Freedom. However, more than her own life—more, in fact, than the lives of her shu’arā’—Milāḥ cherishes her liberty (intangible value: 4, intrinsic value: 4). Many genies are willing to perform magic as part of an exchange of favors, or as a gift freely given, but no genie wants to be used. Unfortunately, some people would rather go to the trouble of capturing a genie and forcing it to serve them (operational value: 4) than go to the trouble of making friends with one. (You may have met people like that. If so, I’m sorry.) Total value: 12. Every genie dreads being captured and subjugated by an unscrupulous shā‘ir. To be forced to use one’s magic in servitude to another is humiliation; to be imprisoned in between such occasions is torment. Milāḥ’s freedom is her most valuable asset, and the threat she must protect it against is anyone who’s discovered how to ensnare a genie. She’s most vulnerable when she walks the earth; as long as she remains in Qal’at as-Saḥāb, she’s relatively safe, but her liberty is still not something to take chances with. While she’s willing to stand between a foe and the guests in her palace, she expects in turn that all the power of Qal’at as-Saḥāb will be brought to bear against anyone who shows up with an iron flask. As for the rest of her assets, aside from her own life and the lives of her favored guests, no one’s likely to have any interest in them but thieves—and they’d have to know there was something to steal in order to steal them. That’s still a risk, however, since a certain kind of mind hears the phrase “genie palace” and immediately turns to thoughts of burglary. Out of all Milāḥ’s material assets, the oud al-Mawsū‘ī is both the most valuable and the most vulnerable, since she brings it out to hear it played. On these occasions, she has to change up her security a bit—not significantly, but enough that the oud performances are private affairs. She would grieve the loss of that instrument. After the oud comes her sword, al-Hawjā’. She carries it on her person whenever she’s out and about; while it’s out in the open most of the time, it also serves as its own warning against attempting to swipe it. Her attachment to it
isn’t sentimental (mostly), but if she were to lose it, it would be a sign that a whole lot more was about to go very wrong. Next it’s a three-way tie: the lives of her court favorites, her collection of pact gifts, and her finest and rarest magic items. If intrinsic value is used as the first tie-breaker, the shu’arā’ come out in front. Whom might Milāḥ need to protect them against? For starters, anyone who’s come to threaten her, because they’ll be in the way. Beyond that, however, not much comes to mind. Envious rivals? Unlikely, frankly. Enemy djinn? Why would they care? Still, the shu’arā’ are vulnerable, since they have free run of the palace, at least the parts that aren’t restricted, and Milāḥ would grieve their deaths as well. On the flip side, they can, to an extent, take part in their own defense. The value of the pact gifts is mainly intangible; the value of the very rare magic items is half monetary, half operational, and more a function of a thief’s estimation than her own. So Milāḥ is going to put more emphasis on defending the pact gifts, the loss of which would hurt. She’ll spend a little more effort protecting the very rare magic items than she does protecting herself, but only because of how tempting a lure they are. Now comes another tie: her own life vs. rare magic items. Well, that’s a nobrainer. She’s going to protect herself. She can’t enjoy the magic items if she’s dead—and she can also replace them if they’re taken. There’s no special attachment here, and in fact if she’s genuinely worried for herself or her guests in the palace, she’ll offer up the rare magic items to buy an enemy off—although she’ll offer uncommon items and money first. (Not the gems, though. Why not? Because a 1,000 gp gem is the material component needed for the spell planar binding. Why in Gehenna would she give one of those to a known threat?) DEFENSE Qal’at as-Saḥāb is a marvel: a palace and surrounding walled garden built on the back of a living storm (use the elder tempest stat block from Mordenkainen’s; the living storm is lenticular rather than serpentine in shape, is 600 feet across, and can’t attack upward). The storm cruises at an altitude of 10,000 to 30,000 feet, never descending to earth. Milāḥ alights and returns by casting wind walk, which speeds her travel and disguises her as she flies. The magic of the castle
allows all within its walls to breathe normally, but the air outside is dangerously thin and cold (see Dungeon Master’s Guide, chapter 5, “Wilderness Survival”; treat altitudes above 18,000 feet as frigid water). The skies above the castle are always clear and calm, with the exception of a number of small, fluffy white clouds that drift across the grounds, providing areas of shade when the sun beats down. Within 5 to 10 miles (it varies) of the living storm, visibility is always lightly obscured, gusting winds mess with ranged attacks, and the sound of rain interferes with hearing. Within 1 mile, the living storm can use its Screaming Gale legendary action to batter would-be intruders. Within 120 feet, it can strike them with lightning. Unauthorized visitors will have to get above the cloud layer fast—faster than the living storm can rise to match altitude with them—if they want to make it to the wall in one piece. The 20-foot-high walls surrounding Qal’at as-Saḥāb are octagonal, as is the palace proper. They’re a boundary marker rather than a security feature, since anything that can fly to the height of a castle in the sky can easily ascend another 20 feet to get over a wall. However, each corner of the wall is topped by a slender, 120-foot-tall watchtower, where a lesser djinni (see appendix B) stands guard. Through clear skies, they can spot approaching creatures from 40 miles away; they can also see up to 300 feet into the storm below them. The palace grounds are a lush formal garden full of flowering plants, fruit and nut trees, pools and fountains (the water pumped up from the storm clouds below), grassy lawns, pergolas, and gazebos. These grounds are enjoyed not just by the occupants of the palace but also by an assortment of animals. These animals possess more than normal intelligence (add 6 to the Intelligence scores in their stat blocks and +3 to their Intelligence modifiers) and will run to Milāḥ if they encounter trespassers. Although they lack language, their behavior will clue her in that something’s awry. OceanofPDF.com
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RANDOM ENCOUNTERSIN QAL’ATAS-SAḤĀB GROUNDS Roll 1d20 each time a PC enters a new section of the garden. d20 Encounter 1–10 1 male gazelle (use the goat stat block, Small size, with Armor Class 11, Strength 10, and Dexterity 12), which Dashes away if approached 11 10 female gazelles (stats as above), which Dash away if approached 12–15 1 poisonous snake, which Bites once if approached to within 5 feet, then Dashes away 16–19 1 fox (AC 13, 2 hp, speed 30 feet/burrow 5 feet, Perception +3, Stealth +5, darkvision 60 feet, passive Perception 13, Keen Hearing, and a Bite attack with +5 to hit, dealing 1 piercing damage—see the adventure Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden for other stats), which observes from hiding (DC 16 to detect), Dashing away if approached 20 1 ostrich (use the axe beak stat block, changing Beak attack to Kick), which Dashes away if approached The grounds are a controlled area, but because of the impossibility of channeling those who approach through a single gate—if they can get to Qal’at as-Saḥāb in the first place, they can certainly fly—the lesser djinn that guard the walls go on immediate alert as soon as they see anyone or anything approaching that they haven’t been told about in advance. They hold their posts, sounding the alarm if a suspected intruder approaches within 240 feet (at night, 120 feet— the maximum range of their darkvision) but not taking further aggressive action unless an intruder crosses the wall. At that point they move to cut off the intruder’s approach, placing themselves between the intruder and the palace, and demand to know the reason for the intrusion. Each lesser djinn guard has a horn and a specific call, so that all the others can identify which one is sounding an alarm. When one blows its horn, the two to its left and the two to its right fly over to join it; the three on the far side of the castle stay where they are, just in case there’s a second incursion from the other direction. There’s a ninth lesser djinni, which usually guards the palace door, that may be available to provide backup if needed, but when Milāḥ has the oud al-Mawsū‘ī out and is listening to a performance, that lesser djinni is posted outside her audience chamber instead. If this lesser djinni does join the fight at the wall, it relieves the most badly wounded lesser djinni there, which Disengages and rushes into the palace to report to Milāḥ.
The palace is marginally more controlled than the grounds, but only by virtue of having only one entrance and exit, which is guarded by lesser djinni No. 9. Guests of Milāḥ can move about the grounds and most of the palace freely, with tabs kept only on whether they’re inside or outside. Milāḥ even keeps the doors to her audience chamber open most of the time. However, her own rooms and her treasury are in a restricted area accessible only from her audience chamber and with her permission—which she generally doesn’t give. The door to the restricted areas of the palace is accessed from a gallery overlooking Milāḥ’s audience chamber, 40 feet up, to which there are no stairs; it can be reached only by flying. The door can’t be opened from the outside, only from the inside. Its three-pointed arch shape features a fine tracery pattern at the top that allows Milāḥ or one of her lesser djinn to pass through by casting gaseous form. Nothing else larger than an insect can fit through the holes. Beyond that, both her rooms and her treasury are reached from the same hallway. The door to the treasury has a hard-to-pick lock. Inside the first room of the treasury, where she keeps her gold, silver, gems, and uncommon magic items, there are also several hardwood chests, 2 feet wide and deep, 3 feet long, and weighing just shy of 300 pounds apiece. Each of these chests contains one of her rare magic items and is protected by a four-dial combination lock that’s very hard to pick. Past Milāḥ’s apartments and the first room of her treasury, there are two more secure rooms, protected not only by very hard-to-pick pin tumbler locks but also doors of axebreaker wood that weigh 1,200 pounds each (DC 25 Strength check to open—proficiency in Athletics doesn’t help). The one adjoining her rooms is where she keeps her collection of pact gifts; the one adjoining the outer treasury is where she keeps her very rare magic items. In the latter room, the oud alMawsū‘ī is stored in a sturdy ebony cabinet with an extraordinarily intricate pin tumbler lock that’s nearly impossible to pick—and there’s no key. Other than the fabled master locksmith who made it, no one but Milāḥ has ever seen the key. Whenever she wants to open the case, she casts creation and makes the key anew out of adamantine. One minute later, the key melts into shadow. OceanofPDF.com
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When Milāḥ receives warning of an assault in progress, she immediately tells all but two of her four to eight shu’arā’ (see shā‘ir, appendix B) to seek shelter in the upstairs library and begins casting conjure elemental, just in case she’s going to need an extra bodyguard. The spell takes 1 minute to cast, so she needs to act quickly. When she’s finished, she stands guard in her audience chamber outside the entry to the restricted areas of Qal’at as-Saḥāb. If she was enjoying an oud performance, she orders the lesser djinni outside the door to take the oud and put it away before she begins casting the spell. After performing this task, the lesser djinni heads back outside to fulfill its reserve function. If and when a fight ensues, Milāḥ tries to stay in front, interposing herself between her enemies and her shu’arā’, while the shu’arā’ stay several steps behind, supporting Milāḥ by trying to neutralize any enemy or enemies engaging her in melee. At the same time, the conjured air elemental wheels around, taking out more distant threats to the shu’arā’ (first) or Milāḥ (second). But Milāḥ isn’t going to start that fight: When her palace is invaded, her first inclination is to try to talk the invaders into leaving by buying them off, seeking a bargain that serves both her own interest and theirs. That parley ends only when it comes to a satisfactory resolution, the invaders insult her beyond forbearance, or it becomes clear that the invaders’ goal is to capture her. In the final case, Milāḥ, her shu’arā’,
and her air elemental all focus their attacks on whichever of her enemies has the means to imprison her; if she can manage it, she’ll plane shift that enemy someplace they won’t enjoy at all, where they’ll pose no further threat to her— Carceri, maybe, or Pandemonium. It’s not terribly likely that anyone will invade Qal’at as-Saḥāb solely to come after a shā‘ir, but if they do, and if that shā‘ir isn’t one of the ones aiding Milāḥ in her defense, she and her elemental will pursue them, attempting to run them down and subdue them before they reach their target. These attacks will be nonlethal; punishment in earnest will come later, following a trial. That trial will be something of a kangaroo court, but she’ll at least give the intruders a chance to explain themselves before deciding what to do with them at last. The same is true if she catches anyone in the act of breaking into her treasury, with one exception: If they’ve come for the oud al-Mawsū‘ī, they’ve made a huge mistake. If the defense of Qal’at as-Saḥāb fails—or if attackers kill the living storm, causing the whole castle to fall—Milāḥ will order all lesser djinn within earshot to sound a special call on their horns, one that announces evacuation of the palace. Upon hearing that call, all her shu’arā’ will retire to her audience chamber as fast as they can, while the surviving lesser djinn do their best to delay the attackers. If she’s not seriously wounded, Milāḥ will join the delay operation long enough to give the shu’arā’ time to reach the chamber, then withdraw there herself. Upon arriving, she’ll slam and bar the door, then begin casting wind walk, including all the shu’arā’ in the effect of the spell. When the spell is complete, she’ll abandon Qal’at as-Saḥāb and whisk her shu’arā’ off to a safe location. Then she’ll start gathering resources with which to retake the castle in the sky, provided it still flies. OceanofPDF.com
BLUE DRAGON LAIR Minimum recommended party: five level 20 PCs The joining of East and West along the Saffron Way brought new delights to both—and abundant riches not just to the merchants who plied the road but to the cities that sheltered them. Of the latter, Shahr-e Kariz, situated over an aquifer that made it a reliable and plentiful source of water in the otherwise arid land, was one of the most magnificent. But its magnificence attracted the attention of the blue dragon Shokuhetarsnak, who slew the khan and his family and took over the city and the surrounding lands. Her reign of terror has placed the merchant caravans of the Saffron Way in an impossible position: If they avoid Shahr-e Kariz, they run a severe risk of running out of water in the vast Desert of Red Sands. If they pass near and they don’t pay obeisance—and tribute—to Shokuhetarsnak, they’ll get eaten. However, even those who do acknowledge her authority occasionally get eaten anyway. She’s unpredictable like that. ASSETS Looooooooooot. Shokuhetarsnak was already an adult dragon with a respectable hoard when she took over Shahr-e Kariz. Since then, she’s increased it with tribute extorted from traveling merchants and the city’s nobility and citizenry. The gold, platinum, and gemstones alone amount to nearly a ton (monetary value: 4). The very rare and legendary magic items would possess enormous operational value to anyone who wrested them away (operational value: 4), and the gems and art objects are both magnificent and historically important (intangible value: 4). The vain and greedy dragon would never dream of parting with a single coin of it (intrinsic value: 4). Total value: 16.
Dominion. Almost as important to Shokuhetarsnak as her loot is the fact that she holds Shahr-e Kariz—and, by extension, the entire Saffron Way— in a death grip. Her command over the city brings her not only tremendous wealth (economic value: 4) but also the clout to summon people of interest to her court to entertain her and carry out her commands (operational value: 2). It also feeds her insatiable ego (intangible value: 4). A manifestation of her innate territoriality, Shokuhetarsnak’s dominion over Shahr-e Kariz is an abstract asset that doesn’t neatly fall into the category of loot, lore, or life but nevertheless has major intrinsic value to her (3). Total value: 13. “Pets.” The lives of the bards, magicians, sages, and artists who grace Shokuhetarsnak’s court are in no way comparable in value to her own, but they are worth something (intrinsic value: 1), because they please her (intangible value: 3). She’ll take steps to ensure that they aren’t inadvertently killed… or rescued. Total value: 4. Shokuhetarsnak. The now-ancient blue dragon values no other life as highly as her own (intrinsic value: 4), and her narcissism only inflates that value further (intangible value: 4). Total value: 8. Shokuhetarsnak is vain but not foolish. Other creatures as powerful as she is might imagine that they had no rivals capable of challenging them, but she has enough sense to know that threats don’t always come from the powerful. Her sway over Shahr-e Kariz is so strong—and dragons’ terrain preferences so ingrained—that she doesn’t need to worry about whether another dragon might try to knock her off her throne. No blue or brass dragon within a hundred miles can match her strength, and no ancient dragon of any other color is interested in what she’s got. The far likelier threat to her hoard is a band of master thieves; to her dominion, an organized rebellion; to her collection of “pets,” a rescue mission mounted by self-styled heroes; to her life, a champion wielding some ancient weapon of legend. She therefore hungers for information as much as for gold and maintains a far-reaching network of spies and assassins to uncover and eliminate threats before they can ever get near her.
Of her various assets, her captive savants are the most vulnerable: She must roam far to feed herself, and these hunting trips are obviously the best time for them to try to escape, or for others to try to free them. She won’t chance that, so while she’s gone, their quarters in the castle are locked down. Shokuhetarsnak’s wealth and power are immense, and while she’ll never let so much as a copper fals out of her clutches, she allows her tax collectors to replenish the city’s treasury first before giving her her cut—a shrewd choice, since it not only keeps the city shining but also buys a legion of civil servants, soldiers, spies, and assassins for her to command. It also lets her build a velvet cage around her “pets,” lessening their determination to escape. DEFENSE The lair defense of Shokuhetarsnak, an ancient blue dragon, begins far beyond the limits of Shahr-e Kariz, in the other cities along the Saffron Way where she has spies—both snoops and plants (see appendix B). Her snoops blend in as marketplace beggars and performers, inn staff, and handlers of draft animals. When their suspicions are raised, they pass word along to plants, who insinuate themselves into the suspect characters’ travel plans. Interesting company on a long journey through the desert is hard to find, and travelers are usually grateful, if not outright desperate, to find it. Any given caravan on the Saffron Way also contains a couple of snoops and at least one plant. Of course, these spies send word to their dragon mistress of the strangers’ arrival—and everything else about them—as soon as they arrive in Shahr-e Kariz. Shokuhetarsnak hunts by day (her darkvision doesn’t reach far enough for her to hunt in the dark with it), ranging far and wide, and she can spot approaching caravans from as far as 40 miles away with her own keen eyes. When she does, she often flies toward them to test their reactions. Experienced caravaners know to keep moving forward and not to panic: Those who’ve sworn their allegiance to the dragon are expected to humbly accept her will, and freaking out is a sign that you haven’t done that. So is drawing weapons at her approach. If a caravan proceeds calmly, she may move on, satisfied, or she may land, sniff around, ask questions, and demand various pro forma shows of
submission. If it speeds up, stops, or scatters, she’ll attack, relenting only if someone in the caravan has the presence of mind to offer surrender. OceanofPDF.com
OceanofPDF.com
The dragon has more spies in the city itself, mostly snoops who report to Shokuhetarsnak’s spymaster. He, in turn, passes the intelligence he receives to the commandant of the city guard, who relays instructions to the troops through a system of horn calls. Every guard patrol in Shahr-e Kariz includes a bugler, whose calls convey information to other patrols within earshot. The Desert of Red Sands is actually more rocky than sandy, but there’s more than enough particulate matter around for a strong wind to kick up a visionobscuring dust storm. The sands are also deep enough to conceal predatory ankhegs. They rarely approach caravans, but they pose a serious danger to small groups cutting across the desert, as do giant scorpions, bands of nomadic tlincallis (see Volo’s), and tribes of thri-kreen. On the plus side, the tlincallis and thri-kreen are implacable enemies and fight each other whenever they cross paths, giving victims of one or the other a window of opportunity for escape; on the minus side, if Shokuhetarsnak is out hunting, their clashes draw her attention. The deterrents increase in number as one approaches Shahr-e Kariz. Lightning crisscrosses the thick, dark storm clouds that perpetually blanket the skies within 5 miles of the city; stray bolts strike the ground at random from time to time. Beneath these skies, dust devils whirl, and the sandy, rocky ground is riddled with hidden sinkholes. Except during dust storms, a troop of guards mounted on riding horses conducts reconnaissance patrols outside the city walls and intercepts any person or group of people spotted approaching the city separate from a caravan. The city, which climbs up the side of a hill, is surrounded by an octagonal curtain wall of dressed stone, 40 feet high and 10 feet thick, with battlements along the top and bartizans at the corners. The entrance zigzags and contains three portcullises and three pairs of stout wooden double doors. The main roads through the dense city are broad and straight, but none of them leads directly from the gate to the castle, which has an additional curtain wall of its own. In addition, the only access route to the castle (other than a couple of posterns that must be opened from inside) leads through a barbican that extends forward 150 feet from the inner wall. When Shokuhetarsnak learns of an incursion attempt,
she perches atop the castle wall, facing down the neck of the barbican, and prepares to zot her canalized enemies as they enter. The city guard is commanded by a commandant (see appendix B for garrison officer stat blocks) and divided into four companies, each commanded by a captain: two companies of regular guard troops (armed with scimitars and light crossbows), one company of mounted guard troops, and one company of elite Dragon Guards (see appendix B). The Dragon Guards protect the castle, the regular guards protect the city, and the mounted guards patrol outside. At any given time during the day, thirty guards, overseen by a lieutenant, in three groups of ten, each led by a sergeant, keep watch on the walls and at the gate, while another one hundred twenty patrol the several quarters of the city, ready to respond to any incursion. The day is divided into two shifts—dawn to noon and noon to dusk—with one guard captain on duty during each shift, and an equal number of off-duty guards can be mobilized as a reserve to assist those on duty, under the command of their own captain. The same number of guards are on duty at night, but the day shift guards must sleep then and can’t come to their aid, and a lieutenant gives the orders. In similar fashion, each day shift sees thirty Dragon Guards on duty in the castle: eighteen around the bailey, six guarding Shokuhetarsnak’s “pets,” and six in reserve, with another thirty awake but off-duty guards available to assist. The guards on night shift are on their own. The captain of the Dragon Guards gives orders during the day; a lieutenant is in charge at night. A mounted recon patrol comprises ten guards (armed with scimitars and shortbows) on riding horses; there are four such patrols outside the city at any given time during the day, each assigned to a different area. They approach suspicious characters to a distance of about 80 feet and issue a command to halt. Two approach halfway to question the new arrivals about their business while all but one of the rest draw their bows and make ready to attack at any sign of hostile movement. The last one readies their horn. OceanofPDF.com
OceanofPDF.com
If the answers they get don’t add up, they’ll move to surround and apprehend the suspects, escort them to the city, jail them, and interrogate them. However, if the suspects fight back in a manner that shows they’re a real threat, the mounted guards gallop back to the city, sounding the alarm, which is picked up and repeated by the guards on the city wall. When they hear horns sound, the civilians of Shahr-e Kariz get off the streets: No one wants to be struck by a stray crossbow bolt or get fried by a ruthless lightning discharge. Patrolling guards mobilize toward whichever quarter of the city intruders have been spotted in, with constant updates provided by horn call, and mass together. If the intruders are hiding amid the narrow streets, the guards spread out along the main streets, no more than 160 feet apart, to surround the quarter and apprehend them when they emerge. Meanwhile, if it’s daytime and reinforcements have been called up, they set up at the nearest battle position to where the intruders were seen last, between them and the castle, and function as a reserve—moving in as a hard-hitting melee unit when defense transitions to offense, or delaying the enemy if the main force must withdraw. The castle is a restricted area. The bailey inside the castle gate is the Dragon Guards’ main battle area, where they shower intruders with crossbow bolts from the walls above and from embrasures in the front wall of the palace. Their reserve is stationed in the palace courtyard. The entrance to the palace is a wooden double door, barred on the inside, and the front-facing wing consists of guardrooms and barracks. The quarters and workrooms of servants are on one side of the interior courtyard; guest quarters, including the heavily guarded quarters of Shokuhetarsnak’s “pets,” are on the other. The “guest wing” is built around a T-shaped hallway. The double door from the palace courtyard to this wing is barred from outside when it’s not open; the doors from individual quarters onto the hallway have elaborate warded locks, which were made by skilled locksmiths at Shokuhetarsnak’s command and are difficult to pick. When the dragon is around, her “pets” are permitted to wander the palace at will during the day, but at night and when she’s away, they’re locked in their rooms, and the door to the wing is closed, barred, and guarded. Opposite the palace entrance is a large iwan—once the court of the khan, now the court of the dragon, where she basks while her officers deliver reports
and her prisoners entertain her with their erudition. The Dragon Guards, who fight to the death, make their last stand in front of it. OceanofPDF.com
OceanofPDF.com
Not Shokuhetarsnak, though. No one dares intrude on the dragon’s space, so no one gets close enough to examine the demolished living quarters of the former khan, left unrepaired as a reminder and a warning. If they did, they might see through the permanent major image spell, cast by one of her nowdeceased “pets,” that conceals a 20-foot-wide hole in the floor with an illusion of collapsed walls and splintered furniture (DC 16 to see through the illusion). This hole, dug decades ago by laborers who were devoured after they completed their work, leads to Shokuhetarsnak’s true lair, in an abandoned gallery of a turquoise and copper mine in the hills behind Shahr-e Kariz. The adit that runs between the palace and the mine has two segments that meet at a slight angle; each segment is a straight passage that, again, allows the dragon to aim her breath weapon directly at intruders, who have nowhere else to go. It also leads to the top of the gallery, so anyone who follows the dragon in is confronted with a twostory drop at the end. The gallery, mined out by the room-and-pillar method, is a checkerboard network of 30-foot-wide passages separated by 90-foot-wide square pillars. The ceiling is 45 feet high, giving Shokuhetarsnak plenty of clearance to fly around inside. The dragon likes the feeling of bedding down on sand, and the floor of the gallery is covered with a thick layer of it. It serves to hide her hoard, but beyond that, she can also summon up clouds of it to protect herself; in addition, she can cause lightning to leap between the mine pillars (which are marvelously conductive, thanks to their copper content), and the ceiling is pretty close to failing. One side of the gallery—the side leading to the rest of the mine, which is still in operation—is caved in. In a pinch, she can burrow through the rubble (A) and escape through the active part of the mine. Any such retreat is temporary, however: She’ll circle back around to the castle and ambush her foes on their way out. RANDOM ENCOUNTERSIN THE DESERT OFRED SANDS Roll 1d20 for every hour of travel. On an 18 or higher, roll 1d8 if more than 5 miles from Shahr-e Kariz, 1d8 + 5 if within 5 miles. d / d
1d8/1d8 + 5 Encounter 1–2 1d4 + 1 tlincallis, hostile 3–4 3d4 + 10 thri-kreen (weapons variant), indifferent; they won’t approach closer than 30 feet unless social interaction turns them either friendly or hostile 5–6 1 giant scorpion 7 1 ankheg, buried under 5 feet of sand 8 A strong wind picks up, creating a dust storm. For the next 1d4 hours, all creatures have disadvantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on sight. 9–10 Recon patrol of 10 guards on riding horses (see text) 11 1 dust devil (use the air elemental stat block, speed 50 feet, no flying speed, Intelligence and Charisma 1 [-5]) 12 Lightning strikes uncomfortably close. Roll 1d4. On a 1–3, the bolt strikes about 30 feet away; all characters are deafened for 1 minute. On a 4, the bolt strikes in the middle of the party. All characters are deafened for 1 minute, and each creature within 5 feet of the lightning strike must make a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw, taking 4d10 lightning damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a success. 13 If PCs are traveling with a caravan, no encounter. If they’re traveling independently, they encounter a hidden sinkhole. The sinkhole is detected with a successful DC 20 Wisdom (Perception) check. If it isn’t detected, the first creature to step on it must succeed on a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw or fall 1d6 × 10 feet into it. OceanofPDF.com
LICH’S CRYPT Minimum recommended party: five level 20 PCs For ages, rugged Mount Jesaret has been thought of as orc territory—specifically, the territory of a tribe of brutal raiders called the Howling Storm. A few years ago, however, the raids suddenly ceased, and those daring enough to investigate the reason reported back, incredulously, that the orcs were building. A stone fortification of some kind, with a tower. Strange, since no one would ever think of pursuing the Howling Storm up the mountain to attack them. Eventually, once the structure was finished, the orcs’ raids did resume, albeit with less frequency… and more apparent calculation. Were the Howling Storm orcs now deferring to the will of a chief, one with a more strategic mind? Yes, but not in the sense that people initially thought. The glory-seeking orcs had fallen under the sway of a ruthless, scheming, egomaniacal wizard named Zviad Uk’vdavi, a necromancer exiled by the pious empire of Propontis and ostracized by his fellow wizards in the College of Anacalypsis. No… not a wizard. A lich. With many goals, but one inconceivably ambitious and yet wondrously petty: to pay back the pontiffs of Propontis by killing their god. ASSETS Research library. Zviad considers information to be valuable in and of itself (intrinsic value: 4), and he’s been gathering research material for decades. His library includes texts on every school of magic, but most of all on necromancy, his focus of study. The texts contain all widely known and practiced illusion and evocation spells up to 3rd level, divination spells up to 6th level, and transmutation, conjuration, abjuration, enchantment, and necromancy spells up to 8th level. Additional notebooks and unbound manuscripts include the 9th-level spells astral
projection and imprisonment. At one time, this library was indispensable to Zviad’s work, but having internalized much of the information it holds, he relies on it slightly less now (operational value: 3). However, Zviad shelled out a lot of money to assemble his collection. If looted, the books in the library would command somewhere in the neighborhood of 1 million gp altogether, with the rarest texts accounting for 80 percent of that price (monetary value: 4). Total value: 11. Spellbooks. Not “spellbook”: Zviad filled his first one completely some time ago and had to start a second book for his 8th- and 9th-level spells. Some of the spells in these books (e.g., major image and simulacrum) aren’t in his library; they were copied from scrolls. He doesn’t care about the theory behind them, only their applications. Unlike most wizards, Zviad doesn’t have a strong personal attachment to his spellbooks (intangible value: 1): He considers them a mere tool, albeit a necessary one (operational value: 4), as well as a slightly irksome reminder that even he still has to study every day to remain in control of his arcane powers. But, like all lore, he considers their contents inherently important (intrinsic value: 4). Total value: 9. Personal notes. In pursuit of his psychopathic aim of killing Morrow, the Lord of Dawn, Zviad has been conducting independent research into high-level necromancy, abjuration, and conjuration magic. These notes are an important part of his work, but they’re the product, not the tool, and he still has a way to go; the time to use them will come later (operational value: 2). He apprizes them as he does all lore (intrinsic value: 4), even more so because they’re the fruit of his own effort and will (intangible value: 4). Total value: 10. Maps to arcane sites. Sometimes you have to travel for work. Many writings refer to lore whose whereabouts are no longer known with any certainty, because the fates that befell its authors or owners kept it from passing into other hands. But with enough time and determination— both of which Zviad has in spades—even a cold trail can be followed, and when you reach the end of it, a broken chain of custody usually means “finders keepers.” Especially if you’re willing to, you know, commit
murder. Zviad is very willing to commit murder, and it’s paid off for him a few times, making these maps good investments (operational value: 3). Even when they haven’t paid off, knowing stuff—especially stuff other people don’t know—is still cool (intrinsic value: 4). Total value: 7. Material components. The stuff of magic, the matrix that shapes magical energy, for which a nice staff or wand sometimes suffices, but not always. Zviad keeps a stockpile of diamond dust for nondetection and glyph of warding, incense for glyph, bottles of leaded ink for illusory script, gold dust for arcane lock, and such a large hoard of black onyx for create undead that it’s actually caused inflation in the semiprecious stone’s price across the continent. He also has a padded case containing forked rods tuned for interplanar travel to Morrow’s home plane, Elysium, along with the Astral Plane, the Penumbral, the Abyss, Acheron, Gehenna, Hades, and two other phantasmagorical, heretofore unheard-of planes, plus several tuned to the material plane; a scrying font; and a large cache of adamantine ingots, with which he’s experimenting in the hope of discovering the secret to personal invulnerability. The cost of all these materials is in the neighborhood of 50,000 gp (monetary value: 3). An arcanist of Zviad’s caliber needs this stuff like a glassblower needs sand (operational value: 4). Total value: 7. Alchemy supplies. Zviad used to use these tools a lot in his research, but he’s moved on to other topics. Now he only uses them occasionally, to brew potions he likes to keep on hand (operational value: 1). Total value: 1. Potions. Speaking of which, Zviad’s potion cabinet generally contains a few potions of greater healing, a few potions of heroism, lots of potions of clairvoyance, and a single potion of invulnerability that he brewed in the process of his experimentation. Useful (operational value: 2), mainly because they let him enjoy the benefits of magic without burning spell slots on it, but not valuable in any other way. Total value: 2. The Tome of Atrocity. A unique artifact that contains, among other loathsome lore, the secret formula for gaining eternal unlife through lichdom. Zviad, of course, has made use of this knowledge and continues
to follow other recipes in the book as well (operational value: 4). Valuable for the knowledge it contains (intrinsic value: 4) and for—well, you always remember your first foray beyond the veil of mortality, not to mention your final and irrevocable divorce from reason and decency (intangible value: 4). Total value: 12. Money. Magic is a lucrative line of work. As of this writing, Zviad’s treasury contains 74,000 gp and 54,000 pp (monetary value: 4). Total value: 4. Zviad. He’s so into himself, he’s made sure he’ll be around forever (intrinsic value: 4, intangible value: 4). Total value: 8. Soulward. And this is how he did it: a pyramidal box of blackwood, inlaid with silver runes and topped with a clear, flawless, 10-carat diamond in an orichalcum setting, which houses Zviad’s soul (intrinsic value: 4; intangible value: 4). As long as it exists, Zviad is deathless. Destroy his body, and the soulward will cause a new one to coalesce before it a few days later (operational value: 4). The only way to rid the world of Zviad Uk’vdavi for good is to destroy his soulward, which requires a tricky, obscure combination of spells, not to mention possession of the soulward itself. Even so, the fact that it can be destroyed at all is the lich’s greatest vulnerability. Total value: 12. Zviad’s soulward is his most valuable and critical possession, but the Tome of Atrocity is a very close second, because it contains sensitive information that he doesn’t want to let fall into any other hands—including not just how to become a lich but also how to destroy a soulward. Zviad has a lot of enemies, foremost among them the religious authorities of Propontis and the wizards who once numbered him among their colleagues, but also rival necromancers who’d love to steal his secrets. He even has to protect the much-coveted Tome of Atrocity from theft by scheming extraplanar entities. He has his work cut out for him. The soulward he can keep hidden away by a variety of devious means, but Zviad needs to refer to the Tome of Atrocity—more and more often these days, it seems—which means he can’t just keep it in storage all the time. It has to be as secure when he takes it out as it is when he puts it away. That’s a major
constraint. The other problem is that the tome defies attempts to hold on to it. Place it in a wooden box, and the wood rots. Entomb it in stone, and the stone cracks and crumbles. Seal it under glass, and the glass shatters. Zviad keeps it in a case made of an alloy of nine parts platinum to one part gold, which seems to be doing the trick (and, as a bonus, protects against locate object as well as lead does). Zviad’s research library is his next most valuable asset. It’s more vulnerable than the Tome of Atrocity, because there’s so much of it—six large cases, every shelf full—and when he does still need to look something up, he wants to be able to find the relevant text right away. Unlike some things one might steal from a wizard, these books would be laughably easy to fence: There’s a huge demand for the knowledge they contain, at every level, and no one’s going to be hung up on where they came from. Now, granted, you have to have a lot of confidence to try to steal from a lich, and that confidence has to be justified; no garden-variety larcenist is going to get anywhere near Zviad’s library. But that simply means that any thief who comes for Zviad’s books is going to be a master thief, and he has to protect them accordingly. That being said, he can afford to lose the more common ones; they’re easy to replace, and he almost never needs to look things up in them anymore anyway. The rarer ones… yeah, it would be a problem if he lost those. Here’s the poser: Does he place them under extra protection, knowing that this will call attention to their presence and their value and attract a thief’s interest, or does he scatter them among his other books, counting on the books’ uniform appearance to camouflage the rarest ones and force a thief to spend precious time assessing the value of each one? After the library come Zviad’s research notes. The considerations around these unbound papers are the same as those around his rarer books, with one difference: They’re not going to be mistaken for textbooks of magic, so they can’t be hidden in plain sight. Illusion magic can pull some weight here, but a spellcaster strong enough to risk a lich’s wrath will have ways of seeing past that, so other means must be found. Next are Zviad’s spellbooks. These have to come out for 1 ½ to 2 hours every time he needs to memorize a new set of spells for the day, and they’re vulnerable when he does—albeit less vulnerable than they’d be if he weren’t right there. Still, they need to be kept locked away when he’s not using them. Anyone who’d
come at Zviad or his property for any other reason will also be interested in his spellbooks, so they’ll require considerable protection, too. After these, Zviad’s most valuable asset is himself. We’re not talking about his life, strictly speaking, because that’s already gone. We’re talking more about his convenience (being wrecked and reconstituted is unpleasant, and it takes days to recover from, and who knows what shenanigans any invaders formidable enough to take down a lich might get up to in his absence?) and his capacity to act. To be more specific, he might return from his temporary nonexistence to find that his attackers have occupied his crypt and are standing around him waiting to clap him into magical restraints. This scenario is well worth preventing. Beyond these items, Zviad’s assets are significantly less critical. Maps to arcane sites? He’s already visited and ransacked many of them. If someone gets to one he hasn’t been to first, that will be extremely annoying, and he’ll want to retaliate against them, but it probably won’t be a catastrophe. Material components? Expensive, but mostly replaceable. Money? He’s got a lot of it, he likes having it, but no one’s busting into a lich’s crypt just to clean out the coffers. Potions? He made them; he can make more. Alchemy equipment? Might as well itemize the bucket in the well while we’re at it. DEFENSE Zviad Uk’vdavi’s defense of his assets begins far beyond the boundaries of his lair —and long before his enemies even begin to plot against him. It begins with spies. Grimaldo Rialto, a diviner, is Zviad’s spymaster. He oversees a network of more than three hundred snoops (see appendix B) in Lygopolis, the capital of Propontis, and other cities with prominent colleges of magic. These snoops are under orders to inform him of the emergence of powerful individuals—in particular mages, clerics, paladins, and worldly political figures—and keep him apprised of their doings, so that he can assess what kind of risk they might pose to Zviad. Any PC who reaches level 11 or above pops up on Grimaldo’s radar. As soon as he starts to believe their power may eventually rival Zviad’s, he sends an undercover agent to get close to them. But Grimaldo’s plants aren’t ordinary
plants, as described in appendix B. They include Ephialte, a night hag, and Millevolti, a doppelgänger. If Grimaldo thinks the notable personages are susceptible to corruption and might be turned to Zviad’s cause, he sends Ephialte. If he believes they’re likely to become enemies of Zviad, he sends Millevolti. If he’s unsure, or if the personages vary in their corruptibility, he may send both agents and order them to instigate divisions in the group. The best outcome is if he can get the rising stars to undermine one another before they ever pose a danger to Zviad. (Ephialte and Millevolti won’t hesitate to point fingers at each other—“Are you sure you can trust that one?”—if the tactic seems likely to tip the scales. Even if one of the agents gets burned, the targets will trust the other one that much more.) By the time the PCs are level 15 or 16, Grimaldo will have made up his mind about them already and begun sending assassins to take them out, one per target, if he’s decided he can’t win them over. If one attempt fails, he’ll try again. And again. It’s war now. Meanwhile, when the potential rivals’ attentions are focused elsewhere, Grimaldo’s plants will swipe personal items from them—or, better yet, locks of hair or fingernail trimmings—and send them to Grimaldo, who’ll pass them along to Zviad for scrying purposes. From time to time thereafter, Zviad will look in on them himself to see what they’re up to. The first time he hears his name in their mouths, he’ll start preparing to destroy them himself, examining them for weaknesses and studying and memorizing spells that target those weaknesses. Through Grimaldo and his agents, he’ll sprinkle phony clues to lead his foes to their destruction. II Zviad’s thoroughness in neutralizing future threats doesn’t mean he’s indifferent to present ones. When he was exiled from Propontis, he took refuge on Mount Jesaret. From there, he combined shock and awe with mass suggestion to impress the Howling Storm orcs and win their loyalty. Having secured the lower reaches of the mountainside, he then did the same with the goliath clans closer to the peak and a tribe of duergar who dwelt within the mountain. Together, these groups of minions built his stone redoubt at an elevation of nearly 13,000 feet, well above the tree line.