4-chapter-3-the-outlands

Chapter 3: The Outlands

Source: Sigil and the Outlands, p. 61

The Outlands are a plane of concordant opposition—a disk-shaped plane of perfect neutrality at the center of the Outer Planes. Anything and everything can flourish on the impartial and balanced canvas of the Outlands: a broad region whose boundless terrain blends to match the extreme forces that shape it. Arid, flame-scarred plains give way to heroic mountain ranges sculpted in the likenesses of gods, moldy caverns ruled by sapient fungi, bottomless seas, and anything else that makes for great adventures.

This chapter provides information for the Dungeon Master about the extraplanar realms of the Outlands, their inhabitants, and life at the center of the Great Wheel.

Life in the Outlands

This section details facets of everyday life in the Outlands.

Cosmic Realignment

Save for the domains of gods, realms in the Outlands are subject to a planar phenomenon known as cosmic realignment. When a location embodies the nature of one of the Outer Planes too closely, that plane absorbs the location and its inhabitants, restoring balance to the Outlands and expanding that plane. Some creatures combat cosmic realignment by acting in direct opposition to the linked plane’s temperament, while others gladly welcome this fate or pursue it outright.

Currency and Trade

Bartering is common in the vast and varied realms of the Outlands. When money exchanges hands, it often takes the form of a lodestar—a weakly magnetic, cobalt coin stamped on both sides with a five-point star. Minted in the gate-town of “Tradegate” (detailed later in this chapter), a lodestar is valued at 1 gp elsewhere.

Language

Like Sigil, the Outlands are home to speakers of every language, but creatures generally speak Common. Still, certain locations attract those who favor a particular tongue. For example, residents of towns with high concentrations of devils tend to also speak Infernal, while those in locales frequented by angels prefer to trumpet their holy praise in Celestial.

Religion and the Gods

Creatures in the Outlands revere gods as folk do anywhere else. At the center of the Great Wheel, faiths are as diverse as their worshipers, who hail from neighboring planes and distant Material Plane worlds. The Outlands contain the domains of several gods, such as the hidden tower of Annam the All-Father, creator of giants, and the gaseous realm of the beholder god Gzemnid. Devout worshipers, whether alive or dead, gravitate to their gods and carry out their will.

Time and Directions

Though the plane has no apparent suns, moons, or stars, the Outlands experience day and night cycles, sometimes referred to as peak and antipeak, respectively. In the morning, the sky gradually brightens, darkening to night 12 hours later. In the absence of clearly visible celestial bodies, travelers orient themselves based on the direction of the Spire, known as spireward. The opposite of spireward is brinkward.

Outlands Poster Map

The “poster map” included with this product depicts the Outlands and some of the locations found on the plane. Distances in the Outlands are impossible to gauge, fluctuating along with travel times as determined by the DM. The map displays pictorial impressions of locations that only hint at their arrangement and distances from one another, making no claims about the wondrous sites that might lie between them. A journey in the Outlands could take minutes or days, leading to a popular saying among locals: “It takes as long as it takes.”

Gate-Towns

A ring of sixteen evenly spaced towns, equidistant to the Spire, lies at the edge of the Outlands. Each is constructed around a portal to one of the Outer Planes, and these gate-towns are dramatically influenced by the realms they border. The towns and their inhabitants vary wildly from each other, mirroring many of the extreme characteristics of their respective planes of influence. Details on the “planes” can be found in the “Dungeon Master’s Guide”.

The following sections present each of the gate-towns in alphabetical order.

Automata

Gate Destination: Clockwork Nirvana of “Mechanus”

• Primary Citizens. Modrons
• Rulers. Council of Order

Automata is a machine of law and order. The town’s geography is as rigid as its bureaucracy, its buildings meticulously maintained and erected with mathematical precision. The gate-town’s right-angled, nearly identical establishments flummox visitors, but the friendly modron residents that make up the bulk of its population navigate the “intuitive” grid of numbered streets with ease.

Automata obeys a strict hierarchy of law overseen by the Council of Order, a triumvirate of officials representing three fulcrums of society. Every major decision is subject to the council’s scrutiny, but not before running a bureaucratic gauntlet of forms and minor approvals to earn its coveted final stamp. The Council of Order has the following members:

Aristimus, a lawful neutral githzerai futurist (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”), captains the town guard.

Juliett-314, a cheery but unforgiving octon modron (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”), oversees local commerce and acts as Automata’s supreme auditor.

Serafil, a sanctimonious tiefling priest (lawful good), speaks on behalf of the gate-town’s temples.

Beneath Automata’s polished streets, citizens escape the rule of law. Criminals, fugitives, and disgruntled townsfolk conduct their business in the gate-town’s vibrant underground, the Inverse, free from the gate-town’s endless regulations but not from authority altogether. A fractious trio of lawful evil decaton modrons (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”), the Council of Anarchy, presides over the Inverse and administers its own twisted brand of justice.

Gate

An enormous, toothed gear rises out of the center of town, turning slowly. Creatures can enter and exit the portal from either side of the standing disc, which lies at the end of Modron Way—a wide, spireward-facing road paved with shimmering metal plates. Constructed around the opposite side of the gate is Concord Terminus, an interplanar train station. To use the portal, a creature must first be cleared for gate travel by an authorized modron.

A quote from Quen Tooday, planar courier

“I’ve been trying to find a bakery for the past three hours. Every building looks the same, and the street numbers don’t help–some of them have decimals! What a nightmare.”

Great Modron March

Every 289 years, thousands of modrons emerge from Automata’s gate in an event known as the Great Modron March, a planar parade of epic proportions in which the modrons travel through each of the gate-towns and the Outer Planes. Although the modrons’ motivation is unknown, planar cosmologists theorize the march is a massive form of data collection or a means of calibrating the multiverse. The Great Modron March coincides with every seventeenth Grand Cycle, the time it takes for the largest gear in Mechanus to complete a single rotation. However, on at least one occasion, the march came early, and legions of modrons wreaked widespread havoc as they trampled across the planes and their unsuspecting residents.

Regional Effects

The region containing Automata’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Mechanus, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Mechanical Metronome. The gate ticks as it turns in time with the gears of Mechanus. Repetitive sounds—a bird tweeting, a worker hammering a nail, or a guard marching down the street—are synchronized to the gate’s beat.
• Ordered Environment. Buildings, rock formations, and vegetation in Automata are perfectly symmetrical, and the town’s climate is always temperate.

Noteworthy Sites

Automata is divided into regimented blocks arranged by category and function. Rather than scatter businesses throughout the town, council mandates require that related establishments be grouped within the same block. Rows of near-identical shops confound visitors.

Concord Terminus

This resplendent train station belongs to the Concordant Express, an interplanar train dutifully operated by modrons. The clockwork behemoth chugs along the planes, leveraging a network of portals—to which the train functions as a key—to deliver its cargo and passengers across the multiverse on a tight schedule. The train originates in Regulus, the largest realm in Mechanus, and frequently pulls into Concord Terminus via Automata’s gate.

Planar travelers, tickets in hand, hustle to and from the ever-bustling platforms as buzzing modron work crews unload freight cars. A nonaton modron (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”) called the Timekeeper oversees all operations within Concord Terminus. Backed by a cadre of pentadrone enforcers, the Timekeeper ensures the train always departs on time and without interruption.

Divine Machine

The Divine Machine is Automata’s most popular tavern, owned by a shrewd and fussy businesswoman named Belda Beanfoot (lawful neutral, halfling commoner). The Machine’s comfortable, basic rooms cater to visitors awaiting clearance for gate travel. In addition to lodging, tavern guests can fuel up at its first-floor coffee shop, the Congruent Café, where monodrone baristas prepare piping-hot beverages at exact temperatures. Much to the dismay of her employees, which can reliably perform just one task at a time, Belda expects a lot from her workers. The café has a high staff turnover.

Hall of Order

The Hall of Order is a three-story government building that features three twisting pillars of intricately arranged gears. Inside the maze of courts and administrative offices, members of the Council of Order authorize stacks of paperwork and rule on escalated matters. Unbeknown to the council, a farcical court lurks below the seat of government: the Hall of Disorder. Denizens of the Inverse make their pleas in the ramshackle courthouse before the Council of Anarchy and a raucous jury that revels in each trial. The council judges the accused based on the absurdity of their defense—the more illogical the argument, the lighter the penalty.

Adventures in Automata

The Automata Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories involving the gate-town.

Bedlam

Gate Destination: Windswept Depths of “Pandemonium”

• Primary Citizens. Humanoids
• Ruler. Gatekeeper Cirrus

Nestled in a yawning crater wracked by howling winds, Bedlam is a bowl of runaways and insufferable nobodies. Its windswept districts attract those who don’t want to be bothered or found. Outlaws, recluses, and wastrels who squandered their fortunes elsewhere eke out a miserable existence in the decaying cavity. A typical Bedlam greeting involves spitting at another’s feet—presuming the greeter is upwind—followed by a curt yet creative insult.

An obsidian tower protrudes from the bottom of the gloomy basin, its pinnacle an elongated hand extending skyward. Known as Sablereach, the tower is rumored to be the petrified arm of a forgotten, dead god. Inside its palm dwells the gatekeeper, Bedlam’s distant ruler. Day and night, shrieking winds erupt from six arched pores at the tower’s base—the blastgates—which render conversation impossible in the town’s lowest district. Bedlam’s spiteful residents plug their ears and communicate through shouts or irritated, nonverbal gestures.

The bitter winds of Pandemonium erode the gate-town inside and out. Repairs to wind-blasted buildings are constant, and anything not nailed or tethered down is as good as lost. The gusts gnaw at Bedlam’s residents just as they do its structures. The citizens’ patience, manners, and joy dwindle in the wake of the gate-town’s ceaseless gales. Nowhere is safe from the winds. Even when the gusts are dampened, their whispers slip through the cracks and magically encourage townsfolk to commit dark deeds against their neighbors.

Gate

Bedlam’s blustering gate resides at the base of Sablereach. Six iron blastgates bore through the ebony arm, each spewing a constant jet of bitingly cold wind that wails as it exits. Those stalwart enough to reach a blastgate can eventually push their way to the gate chamber: a pressurized obsidian hall adorned with rattling iron hand rings. Entrants must grasp the rings or be sent tumbling backward by the squalls that spew from the gate. A massive chain, tethered to the floor and held stiff by a thick layer of muddy ice, extends up into the howling portal set within the chamber’s vaulted ceiling.

Power Vacuum

Bedlam was nearly destroyed by its last gatekeeper, a foolish wizard named Tharick Bleakshadow. Driven by reckless curiosity, Tharick sought to plug the gate with a magical seal and stop its gales. To his surprise, the violent winds merely changed direction, engulfing the mage before resuming their normal outward flow.

When the winds reversed, they spat out Bedlam’s current gatekeeper: Cirrus the Silent, a chaotic neutral cloud giant born in the unforgiving darkness of Pandemonium. None have heard Cirrus speak. The giant’s words are carried on the winds as eerie voices that invade the minds of her subjects.

Regional Effects

The region containing Bedlam’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Pandemonium, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Howling Winds. Rank winds screech from Bedlam’s gate at all hours. Creatures within 1,000 feet of the gate have the deafened condition.
• Mind-Controlling Murmurs. Bedlam’s winds infect townsfolk with a contagious spite. Occasionally, the planar gales dominate longstanding residents, compelling them to commit evil acts.

A quote from Beck Bitterflute, resident of the Gatemouth district

“What? What did you say?”

Noteworthy Sites

Bedlam is split into three layers. The noisy Gatemouth district rests at the basin’s lowest point, while the Bleakheights loom over the basin’s lip and cling to its steep edge. They are separated by Midtown, a sloped district partway up the crater.

Eye and Dagger

Cranky residents of the Gatemouth district can take a much-needed rest at the Eye and Dagger, Bedlam’s most popular hotel. Sheets of worn nickel coat the exterior of the narrow, triangular building, which cuts through Bedlam’s winds with its knifelike edge. The Eye and Dagger is mostly windowless—many establishments in Bedlam’s lower districts forgo windows altogether, lest they be shattered by hazardous debris hurled by the winds—and the hotel’s roof comes to a sharp point. From outside, the joint looks like a giant, upturned blade.

A silence spell blankets the interior of the Eye and Dagger, shielding its patrons from the gate-town’s belligerent gales. Weary guests occasionally weep on entering the establishment, awash in the catharsis of its muted comforts. But this silence is a double-edged sword. Thieves, cutthroats, and other malevolent opportunists skulk the hotel’s hushed halls. Returning guests have learned to sleep with one eye open.

Wailing Hollows

The Wailing Hollows are a network of wind-eroded tunnels that originate in the Gatemouth district and extend into Midtown. A haunting whistle pervades the pitch-black caverns, which mimic the ecosystem of Pandemonium. Although darkweavers (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”) prowl the Hollows, ambitious miners flock to caves in search of Bedlamite, a highly coveted black ore that fumes with malice.

Witherbeak Observatory

Scholars eager to study Bedlam’s winds seek out Witherbeak Observatory, a clifftop outpost located in the Bleakheights. Founded by a rambunctious inventor named Professor Orbys Bumblewing (chaotic good, gnome mage), the facility is a hub of aeolian research and invention. Within the domed observatory, Bumblewing and her colleagues aim to harness Pandemonium’s chaotic winds for good, but the plane’s malicious gales corrupt her inventions, possessing them like evil spirits. Bumblewing is always looking for willing guinea pigs to test out her contraptions, which include dubious parachutes and precariously constructed gliders.

Bumblewing’s wind-powered inventions have piqued the interest of the Nimbus Knives, a gang of air genasi (see “Monsters of the Multiverse”) who ride icy clouds spun from the town’s unstable winds. Their leader, Dust Devil (chaotic evil, air genasi bandit captain), derives sick satisfaction from tormenting citizens in the Bleakheights and using Bumblewing’s machines for vandalism, robbery, and violence.

Adventures in Bedlam

The Bedlam Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Curst

Gate Destination: Tarterian Depths of “Carceri”

• Primary Citizens. Exiled Humanoids
• Ruler. Burgomaster Villigus Bazengar

Curst is a menagerie of exiles and outcasts. Fugitives, traitors, and runaways trade one punishment for another in the poisonous town, a dismal burg chained to the prison plane of Carceri. Betrayers and backstabbers ruminate on their pasts in captivity, agonizing over their mistakes or counting down the days until they can exact vengeance on those who wronged them. Cracked, dried-up soil pervades the town and its rusted structures, rising as clouds of dust with every step.

The maelephants (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”) of the Wall Watch patrol Curst’s perimeter: a high, corroded barrier lined with saw-toothed barbs and search towers. The elephantine warders turn their gaze inward, ensuring no one escapes. Curst receives traitors and felonious folk with open arms, but to leave the gate-town, residents must receive approval from the burgomaster, a capricious shator demodand (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”) named Villigus Bazengar. Susceptible to cajolery, the ruthless demodand has been known to spare those who stroke his insufferable ego.

When authorities from other gate-towns come knocking on their doors, residents feign ignorance or offer up false clues to throw off the nose of justice. Residents remain smugly aloof, fending off bounty hunters like bad suitors. Beneath their placid veneer, however, some prisoners seek to cause ruin and strife, such as the conniving burgomaster, who shelters secrets of his own. Others just want to be left alone.

A quote from Slab, prisoner of Curst

“Mistakes are ghosts. I lost count of the days I’ve spent in this awful prison, but I’ve never been able to escape the faces of those I wronged to wind up here. I deserve this.”

Gate

The gate to Carceri stands in a ringed courtyard in the center of town. The ruddy, four-pillared metal arch swirls with carmine sand and tortured cries. Creatures that step into the reddish squall emerge in Orthys, the torrid first layer of Carceri. Locals believe the gate is a one-way portal because no one recalls ever witnessing anything crawl out of it. The gate has no guards, as the gate’s reputation is enough of a deterrent.

Second Exile

Crimes from a previous life are forgotten in Curst, and citizens rarely inquire about one another’s pasts. Such information is either volunteered willingly or loudly proclaimed by officials scouring the town for renegades. However, those who commit crimes within Curst risk a fate called Second Exile, in which the offender is bound and thrown into the gate, never to return. Second Exile is typically reserved for gruesome or otherwise unforgivable acts, and the burgomaster alone decides which transgressions warrant the sentence.

Regional Effects

The region containing Curst’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Carceri, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Ball and Chain. Creatures in Curst feel as though they’re dragging a ball and chain behind themselves and have their speed reduced by 5 feet.
• Extradimensional Prison. Creatures can’t leave Curst using teleportation or by extradimensional or interplanar means other than the town’s gate to Carceri. Any attempt to do so is wasted.

As an action, the burgomaster can suppress either of these effects for any number of creatures of the burgomaster’s choice for 1 hour.

Noteworthy Sites

Curst is separated into six districts by five circular roads. Like ripples in a pond, they radiate from the gate to Carceri, each ring confining the last. Buildings in Curst are makeshift structures cobbled together from tarnished metal and weathered stone. Light ekes through glass windows, clouded and spiderwebbed with cracks, illuminating charmless abodes honeycombed with glorified prison cells.

Burgomaster’s Estate

The burgomaster’s residence is a chamber of horrors dedicated to chastisement and correction. From the outside, the three-story manor looks like an elaborate, menacing cage. A reddish glow emanates from a pair of slanted windows above its spiked veranda, giving it the impression of a grimacing face. The estate’s heavy doors screech on their hinges, and farastu demodands (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”) creep along its iron-barred balusters.

Burgomaster Villigus Bazengar delights in spreading malaise and despair. The demodand and his moldy, overlapping hides slithered out of Carceri to usurp the town from its previous ruler, Tovus Gilaf (lawful evil githzerai zerth), who remains imprisoned somewhere within the fiendish manor. Villigus aims to divide and immiserate the populace with his cruelty, reeling Curst ever closer to the carceral pit from whence he came.

The Dump

Items lost across the multiverse sometimes find their way to Curst’s dump, a sprawling junkyard managed by a crotchety green hag named Dolores who makes a living off the garbage and keeps it from spilling into the town. Dolores occasionally hires adventurers to clear her yard of dumpster divers and trespassers.

Roaming packs of rust monsters scavenge the mountains of scrap and refuse for metallic morsels. They’ve learned to avoid the metalwork sculptures that decorate the landfill—abstract, corroded statues created by Tudhog the Junk Wyrm, an eccentric adult copper dragon who reeks of garbage. The dump’s artistic guardian, Tudhog fashions three-dimensional pieces from once-magic blades, battle-damaged suits of shimmering armor, and melted-down manacles and chains.

A cranium rat genius broods within the junk piles. Called the Node, the hairless rat claims to have escaped the Lady of Pain’s Mazes—a feat that bestowed it a brain three times the size of its body and cost the rat its fur. The Node hovers above the ground, held aloft by its own intellect. The rat swears vengeance against the Lady of Pain, promising untold secrets about Sigil’s enigmatic ruler to those who aid it.

Traitor’s Gate

Outcasts wet their tongues at the Traitor’s Gate, a lamentable roadhouse inn that looks like a giant overturned bucket. It’s run by a haggard, grim-faced man named Tainted Barse (chaotic neutral, human bandit). The tavern sees its share of lowlifes, but rebels, visionaries, and heroic outlaws also dot the taproom, finding common ground with others seeking to clear their names or drown their sorrows.

Adventures in Curst

The Curst Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Ecstasy

Gate Destination: Blessed Fields of “Elysium”

• Primary Citizens. Guardinals and Humanoids
• Rulers. The Lightcaller and the Nightwhisperer

The rolling hills of Ecstasy, the City of Plinths, rise from a serene stretch of the Outlands. Blanketed in peace and contentment, Ecstasy is a pastoral gate-town of quiet contemplation and simple pleasures. Hundreds of monoliths, shaped from a variety of materials, dot the idyllic landscape. Their origins unknown, the plinths are works of art: marble columns adorned with breathtaking sculptures, intricately carved wooden poles, natural standing stones, and refractive crystal pedestals. Like ghosts drawn to a shrine, petitioners perch atop the towering plinths, inviting townsfolk to ponder the multiverse’s greatest mysteries with them.

Ecstasy’s citizens are friendly, munificent folk who espouse benevolence and growth. They are governed by a pair of monarchs, the Lightcaller and the Nightwhisperer. These supposedly mortal rulers wear masks that reflect their demeanors: a flamboyant, golden disc for the Lightcaller and a closed, silver helmet for the coolly distant Nightwhisperer. The circadian monarchs swap places at dusk and dawn, and they’re never seen together. They enforce the town’s cardinal rule: “Do no evil.”

Evil, as it stands, isn’t as plain as day and night. Though violence is rare, musing spirits inspire townsfolk to push the boundaries of mortal life, gleaning vicarious fulfillment from watching residents justify unsavory acts as the path to spiritual enlightenment. Moreover, the gate-town doesn’t eliminate negativity—it merely suppresses it. Ecstasy’s cheeriest citizens are walking powder kegs of bitterness, bottling their feelings until they erupt in unbridled incidents.

Gate

A column of segmented ivory, the Bone Plinth, rises above the center of town. As one approaches the plinth, the fields and their flowers grow more vibrant, and all is awash with a sense of overwhelming tranquility. At the top of the spine is a fountain of quicksilver: Ecstasy’s gate to Elysium. Creatures that submerge themselves in the reflective pool emerge in Amoria, the plane’s innermost layer.

Aura of Tranquility

The gate to Elysium dulls the blades of anger and hostility in its vicinity. At all hours, a pacifying aura radiates from the Bone Plinth in a 300-foot radius. Any creature that starts its turn in this area is targeted by a calm emotions spell (save DC 15). A creature that succeeds on its saving throw is immune to the aura for the next 24 hours.

Regional Effects

The region containing Ecstasy’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Elysium, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Ambient Benevolence. Residents in Ecstasy are friendly toward visitors that aren’t hostile toward them.
• Pervasive Tranquility. Creatures in Ecstasy have advantage on saving throws to avoid or end the frightened condition on themselves.

Noteworthy Sites

Ecstasy encompasses a scenic countryside of humble farms and rustic cottages scattered with plinths. Orchards blossom along the gate-town’s roads, which branch from the Bone Plinth in the town center. The courts of the Lightcaller and Nightwhisperer face each other opposite the ivory fountain.

Moondark Tower

The gates of Moondark Tower open as darkness falls. A dull husk of speckled iron during the day, the tower greets the night with twinkling constellations on its glossy black frame. Out rides the Nightwhisperer, an ancient silver dragon who takes the form of a valorous hero in silvery plate armor, their mirrored helm glowing like a bright, full moon. Atop their argent unicorn steed, the Nightwhisperer defends Ecstasy from waking nightmares that seek to corrupt the town in its lightless hours. When danger isn’t imminent, the Nightwhisperer hears matters from sleepless citizens in their nocturnal court.

The Nightwhisperer is never seen in daylight. Just before dawn, they return to Moondark Tower, which shuts down until the next evening.

Philosopher’s Court

Citizens vent their frustrations in the Philosopher’s Court, an enclosed amphitheater covered in weathered rilmani symbols. Originally founded as a place of spirited debate, the court was hooded with an enchantment that prevented philosophers, petitioners, and priests from harming one another, ensuring only ideas clashed under its marble roof. However, the ward fell away when the court’s last moderator—Kagorious, the so-called Philosopher King—vanished without crowning his replacement. Arguments frequently devolve into violent altercations.

A quote from A spirit musing atop a plinth in Ecstasy

“Was the sky above this realm always so empty, or did the sun and the moon simply tire of their endless cycle and abandon it for a more exciting existence?”

Revelhome

Spireward from the Bone Plinth, Revelhome is Ecstasy’s most popular tavern. Mortals and petitioners alike enjoy its rich comforts, particularly its warm, spiced ciders and fruity wines. Thanks to Elysium’s influence, vineyards in Ecstasy yield luscious grapes year-round, and apples plucked from orchards are eternally sweet and crisp. The tavern’s veiled proprietor, a lawful neutral medusa named Madame Millani, serves drinks with a smile, but she’s not afraid to silence rowdy patrons, turning them into fine statues for her garden.

Solrise Tower

A glistening pillar flecked with amber mosaics, Solrise Tower shimmers with exaltation. The rooster’s crow precedes the arrival of the Lightcaller, an ancient gold dragon who takes the form of an aureate monarch. The Lightcaller ushers in each new day with cheerful exuberance, spreading mirth from dawn to dusk. Since more citizens are awake during the day, the Lightcaller spends more time governing in their luminous court than their nightly counterpart. The Lightcaller typically delegates protection efforts to three solars, powerful angels who affirm the monarch’s daily authority.

The Lightcaller is never seen at nighttime. At dusk, they return to Solrise Tower, which shuts down until the next morning.

Adventures in Ecstasy

The Ecstasy Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Excelsior

Gate Destination: Seven Heavens of “Mount Celestia”

• Primary Citizens. Celestials and Humanoids
• Ruler. High Chancellor Forough

Celestials and mortals live in harmony in Excelsior, the gate-town at the foot of Mount Celestia. Flecks of gold and silver sparkle in its radiant streets and towers, which climb ever upward to new heights of good and law. Archons, devout worshipers, and paragons of justice convene in floating citadels atop billowing clouds, and crystal falls of holy water cascade over their wispy edge to blessed fountains below.

Excelsior’s divinely appointed high chancellor, Forough (lawful good, human archmage who can cast cleric spells), looks after the gate-town. The venerable human chancellor is a kind-hearted and patient soul, but beneath her calm exterior pumps the heart of a lion with a thunderous roar. The favored cleric of a deity of light, the Sunweaver, Forough is the voice of a god and can bring its might to bear. Those who mistake her mercy for weakness don’t do so twice. She stands resolute against evil invaders alongside the Cinderwings, a squadron of angelic defenders who heed her prayers.

There’s a consequence to Excelsior’s bliss. Once one has basked in the light of the Seven Heavens, everywhere else seems comparatively worse. Though archons regularly depart the gate-town on divine errands, Excelsior’s privileged mortal residents hesitate to venture past its golden gates, where a dull existence awaits. However, the gate-town isn’t a perfect paradise, and some scoundrels test the watchfulness of goodly gods and their servants, regardless of how close to them they dwell.

A quote from Excerpt from a prayer recited in Excelsior

“O Lightbringer, Shine down on us so that we might see our flaws.

Chase away the darkness, And free us from its jaws.

Guide our swords until that fateful day, When we can bask beneath your rays.”

Gate

Excelsior’s gate rests in its tallest tower, the Godstrand. A lucent, alabaster pillar dwarfed only by the Spire, the tower is a beacon of virtue impervious to spell and sword. The Godstrand’s pinnacle is obscured by soft, luminous clouds at all hours. Its peak isn’t visible from any point in the Outlands, for the tower protrudes from the base of Mount Celestia.

Only one path ascends to the gate, and the tower’s defenses harrow those who seek to corrupt it. Twisting staircases line the Godstrand’s interior, branching and crossing endlessly, and its walls are adorned with intricate mosaics that shift to disorient trespassers. However, Celestials and those with pure hearts or intentions can hear the heavenly portal ringing out like a distant choir of angels. Seven gleaming steps precede the gate itself, hovering and flanked by a pair of unflinching warden archons (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”).

Regional Effects

The region containing Excelsior’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Mount Celestia, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Beacon of Light. Excelsior’s auriferous streets and temples produce a warm, ambient glow, even at night. Evil creatures find the light repulsive.
• Euphoric Utopia. Excelsior is perfection incarnate. Fruits are ripe and sweet, fragrant perfumes replace everyday odors, and gentle breezes carry melodious tunes.
• Floating Structures. Clouds as solid as earth drift through the skies above Excelsior. They support various buildings, such as businesses, keeps, and gaudy mansions. The owners of such structures control the clouds through magical means.

Noteworthy Sites

Excelsior’s flightless residents primarily operate on the surface, while Celestials and other winged folk prefer the cloud-topped comforts of the Chandelier, the gate-town’s aerial district. Winged chariots act as taxis between the two realms, ferrying townsfolk up to sky-dwelling businesses and hanging gardens.

Chandelier

Like motes of soft flame, gleaming structures orbit the Godstrand at varying heights, held aloft in the palms of feathery clouds by the faith of their devoted residents. Collectively referred to as the Chandelier, this district mainly consists of picket keeps—strongholds governed by pious champions of justice and mercy.

The Chandelier includes the following locations:

Nimbron, the castle of Thotastis (lawful good, human gladiator), a stiff-necked paladin of Tyr. He believes Excelsior requires a firmer hand than the current high chancellor offers.

Thunder’s Reach, a rumbling storm cloud fortress that belongs to Tygrant, a reclusive empyrean banished from Mount Celestia for his pride.

Zephyr Stables, a floating pegasus ranch run by Cassandra Caeneus (lawful good, human knight). She lends her flying steeds to worthy riders.

Forum

The forum is a hub of good-faith argument. A row of gilded podiums lines the stage of this wide amphitheater, where creatures debate concepts such as altruism, agency, or the gods and their portfolios. The forum is deliberately located on the surface district rather than the Chandelier—a reminder that the venue is more for Excelsior’s worldly townsfolk and visitors than for Celestials. A hush washes over the crowd whenever an angel descends on the stage.

Heart’s Faith

Once a quaint town at the base of Mount Celestia, Heart’s Faith is now Excelsior’s surface district. Among its unblemished structures, cheery citizens bid each other good tidings as they tend verdant orchards and perfect artistic pursuits. High Chancellor Forough conducts her business in the Godstrand, which rises from the center of the district.

The sheltered townsfolk of Heart’s Faith seek to preserve their paradise. Nosy neighbors spy and tattle on visitors and each other, involving archons as mediators in insignificant squabbles. Some fanatical residents, like the Order of the Iron Lantern, take this protective behavior to extremes. This militant sect of righteous watchdogs seeks to uproot evil before it rears its ugly head, detaining innocent folk at the first whiff of suspicion.

Adventures in Excelsior

The Excelsior Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories involving the gate-town.

Faunel

Gate Destination: Wilderness of the “Beastlands”

• Primary Citizens. Awakened Beasts
• Ruler. None

The Faunel the Outlands once knew is gone, its roar so mighty that the gate-town was absorbed by the Beastlands. Now the town must start anew, reestablished by stragglers, newcomers, and sapient animals who were away when their home disappeared. Old Faunel’s ancient ruins remain, rejected by the plane that claimed their wild inhabitants. Lush vegetation sprouts from the cracked foundations of a crumbling, forgotten city. Grasping vines tug at travelers who stop to admire their vibrant flowers, and toothed plants wait patiently near stagnant drinking pools for their next meal to arrive. The air in Faunel is rich and humid, and the broad, waxy leaves of foliage along the forest floor glisten with dew.

Beasts are returning to Faunel, but who among them will rise to the top of the food chain? Three factions of awakened Beasts vie for control of the animal kingdom. The following leaders, all of whom speak Common, guide the packs:

Ebonclaw (lawful neutral saber-toothed tiger with an Intelligence of 12 and a Charisma of 12), a silken-furred feline with a notch on his fangs for every kill he’s made, commands a vicious streak of predators.

Ophelia (lawful good; use the elephant stat block with an Intelligence of 10, a Wisdom of 14, and a Charisma of 14), a sard-hided elephant matriarch, guides Faunel’s herbivores.

Parvaz (neutral; use the giant eagle stat block with an Intelligence of 16 and a Charisma of 14), a brooding albatross with golden tail feathers and razor-sharp talons, steers a flight of birds in the gate-town’s dense, heliotropic canopy.

Faunel attracts its share of non-Beast visitors who seek the fruits of nature. Travelers gather in Camp Greenbriar, a tented outpost where foragers, explorers, and merchants mingle with awakened wildlife. Meanwhile, a despicable group of hunters, the Vile Hunt, hacks through the jungle in search of rare animal hides. Led by a gold-toothed poacher, Mick Mangehide (gnoll fang of Yeenoghu), the Vile Hunt whittles away at Faunel’s bickering factions as Mick prepares his trophy wall for their mounted heads.

Gate

Deep in the vine-choked ruins rests Faunel’s gate, a tranquil pool at the foot of a stone statue. The pool’s waters replicate the effects of an awaken spell. Beasts that lap from its crystalline waters find their tongues capable of speech, and saplings weaned on the reservoir eventually uproot as wooden guardians that defend the town. Creatures that submerge themselves in the pond emerge in the untamed wilds of the Beastlands.

Guardian of Nature

A stone colossus kneels before the pool at the town’s center, its weathered visage and mossy limbs reflected in the pool’s sparkling ripples. Called Wrath by the animal kingdoms that came before, the guardian questions all who seek to enter the portal, asking whether they hunt for sport or sustenance. The titan alone decides who may enter—and who must meet a gruesome end.

Wrath disdains sport hunters and their ilk, vowing never to let them pass. To others, Wrath is a gentle giant, a curious protector who delights in birdsong and babbling brooks. Not much is known about the guardian’s past, but clues etched in the ruins of Faunel suggest that Wrath was once a mortal being of cloud and mist who wished to live among the Beasts below.

Regional Effects

The region containing Faunel’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of the Beastlands, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Awakened Beasts. Beasts in Faunel are more intelligent than their worldly counterparts. At the DM’s discretion, any given Beast has an Intelligence of 10 and can speak and understand Common.
• Tropical Paradise. Frequent rainfall yields fruit and water in abundance. Wisdom (Survival) checks to forage in Faunel are made with advantage.

Noteworthy Sites

The unbound wilds of Faunel have no districts or roads, save for the worn footpaths that snake between its dilapidated ruins and tropical overgrowth. The town’s bestial residents make their dens near natural landmarks: waterfalls, rock formations, and the gnarled branches of magical trees.

Camp Greenbriar

A spiked wooden palisade lines the perimeter of Camp Greenbriar, an assembly of tents, thatch-roofed huts, and mud-soaked caravans in the heart of the wilderness. Positioned in a balmy, spireward clearing, the encampment is a popular stop for explorers and hunters to gather supplies, trade, and sharpen their blades before trekking through the lightless thickets ahead.

A friendly three-toed sloth, Razak (neutral good; use the black bear stat block), likes to hang around the camp. A remnant of Old Faunel, Razak acts as a messenger for the gate-town’s three splinter kingdoms in hopes of seeing the jungle united again.

A quote from A mimir spouting animal facts

“On average, it takes a sloth thirty days to digest a single leaf.”

Eagles’ Aerie

High in Faunel’s golden canopies, a conference of birds convenes. Rickety tree houses and intricate nests, held together with rope and gluey spittle, make up Eagles’ Aerie, a settlement for avian folk and awakened birds.

Hundreds of feet above the forest floor, Eagles’ Aerie is removed from much of Faunel’s conflict. But in recent months, egg poachers have grown bolder, scaling the jungle heights in the night. Worse yet, the gate-town of Rigus plunders Faunel for its natural resources, notably its lightweight timbers that are as strong as steel. As loggers topple sacred trees for their priceless lumber, the treetops’ avian residents criticize their leader, the albatross Parvaz, who merely observes problems from a bird’s eye view. The birds of Faunel can’t afford to go to war by themselves. Until the jungle is one again, they must weather the storm.

Razortooth Rock

Ebonclaw and his streak claim Razortooth Rock, a pointed stone overlook that resembles the mighty fangs of the awakened predators who call it home. Tall, leafy greenery surrounds the stony pillar and its vine-draped trees, making Razortooth Rock an ideal place for snakes and big cats to ambush their prey.

Adventures in Faunel

The Faunel Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Fortitude

Gate Destination: Peaceable Kingdoms of “Arcadia”

• Primary Citizens. Celestials and Humanoids
• Ruler. The Spotless Seven

Fortitude is a place of ordered beauty. Identical trees line its polished boulevards in neat rows, and each uniformly trimmed blade of grass in its public parks glistens with a single drop of morning dew. Fastened to Arcadia, a plane of law and virtue, Fortitude combines the rigidity of “Automata” with the puritanical attitudes of “Excelsior”, creating a pressure chamber of homogeneous moral rectitude.

The gate-town’s residents are charitable people who pursue purity to a fault. At first, locals appear perfectly benign—smiling, hospitable folk in immaculate attire who look after their fold—but their veils of compassion slowly betray their obsessive natures. Townsfolk fixate on flaws, in themselves and in their surroundings, believing that abnormality is the precursor to evil. They fret over their appearances, chasing impossible standards of beauty and grace. Wracked by contempt, they smother what makes them truly unique, like gardeners pruning unsightly branches from their own personalities.

A quote from Vern Cliptoe, Fortitude gardener

“Would you look at that. It’s time to cut the grass again.”

Fortitude is governed by the Spotless Seven, a group of politicians elected once every 289 years, or whenever the Great Modron March passes through the town. Its members are enduring angels, long-lived dwarves, and immortal public servants who keep their house clean. Although their terms are long, incumbents typically campaign for reelection between marches, defending their seats from challengers advocating similar platforms of goodliness and law. Nevertheless, even exemplars of decency have sinister secrets, and the Spotless Seven aren’t as clean as their title suggests.

Gate

An unquenchable green flame burns atop a low, circular ziggurat in one of Fortitude’s scenic groves. The step pyramid consists of seven stacked tiers quartered by staircases that ascend to the gate to Arcadia. Cradled by four curved beams at its summit, the blazing, green portal gently envelops entrants and ushers them to a plane of peace and order. Evil creatures tend to avoid the flame, suspicious that its warmth can harm the wicked.

Storm Lords

Four elemental servants of the demigods who control the skies of Arcadia stand vigilant at the bottom of the ziggurat’s steps. Each sculpted from an element in its purest state, the lawful good guardians use stat blocks similar to those of genies: a diamond-skinned dao, a djinni of noble gas, a glacial marid, and an azure efreeti with a saber wreathed in blue flames. Known as the Storm Lords, the beings refuse entrance to anyone they believe would spoil the lands beyond.

Regional Effects

The region containing Fortitude’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Arcadia, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Living Congruence. Creatures in Fortitude appear more beautiful and symmetrical than their typical counterparts.
• Perfect Vitality. Creatures in Fortitude are immune to the poisoned condition and have resistance to poison damage. The effects of diseases are suppressed.

Noteworthy Sites

Nicknamed “the Egg” by some travelers for its white, oval-shaped town wall, Fortitude is a tirelessly maintained assortment of parks, orchards, and gardens balanced by pristine buildings and sparkling fountains. Honeycombed into hexagonal blocks, the town has not a hair out of place. The weather in Fortitude is always pleasant and predictable, pacified by the Storm Lords who defend the town’s planar gate.

Beehive Boutique

Part salon and part fashion store, the Beehive Boutique pampers residents with magical makeovers and fine outfits cut from the same cloth. The boutique is a domed, two-story edifice of blond stone with curtained, amber windows. Inside, buzzing beauticians help each resident’s appearance reflect their inner beauty. Creatures that stumble through the parlor’s hexagonal black door a disheveled mess emerge exquisite and graceful.

For a premium rejuvenating experience, patrons can visit the second floor, where the Beehive’s proprietor—a mind flayer arcanist (a variant mind flayer) that uses a disguise self spell to appear as a grinning human cosmetician named Doctor Goodcheer—conducts special cleansing sessions. With the aid of illithid technology, the good doctor siphons “impurities” from his patients—hatred, malice, and other loathsome emotions—for use in foul experiments in a hidden laboratory beneath the boutique.

Filigree Park

The fruity fragrances of blooming orchard trees waft through the clement air in Filigree Park, a public sanctuary teeming with metallic wildlife. Silver stags graze among buzzing brass-winged bees, while chittering copper squirrels sequester acorns for a winter that never comes. Adorable petitioners of goodly souls, the critters meticulously tend to the park’s manicured garden trellises, ensuring every flower is exactly as it should be.

Aspiring members of the Spotless Seven hold forums within the park, inviting constituents to voice their concerns. Vain and corruptible, these politicians regularly cast doubt on their opponents and hire mercenaries to bring shame to other candidates.

Pavilion of Purity

Opposite the town from Fortitude’s gate stands a grand, milk-white arena: the Pavilion of Purity. Several times a week, locals admit their faults within the radiant stadium, confessing their wrongdoings on a stage for all to see. In addition to townsfolk, the audience always includes a least one member of the Spotless Seven.

Embedded in the stage are several thin grates. As citizens profess their guilt, darkness sloughs off them like melted shadow and into the drains at their feet. The crowd then passes judgment, with punishments ranging from light reprimands to exile or worse. Meanwhile, the exuded darkness festers beneath their feet and escapes into Fortitude as hostile dretches, Oozes, and shadows.

Adventures in Fortitude

The Fortitude Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Glorium

Gate Destination: Heroic Domains of “Ysgard”

• Primary Citizens. Giants and Humanoids
• Ruler. Tyrza Bonebreaker

Blaring horns rally Glorium’s residents to battle. Warriors are forged in the gate-town, a village of lodges, training fields, and farms arranged along the fertile slopes of an icy fjord. A colossal, serpentine statue towers over the gate-town, its coils arching along the peaks of a high mountain range. Glorium’s rich, rugged shores are speckled with the blood of a thousand battles, shed by folk who revel in skirmishing and welcome death when it comes for them.

In Glorium, every resident owns a weapon and knows how to use it. A tight-knit fellowship of hardened warriors, locals revere gods of war and are distant toward visitors who have yet to prove themselves in combat or through feats of strength.

Glorium’s leader is Tyrza Bonebreaker (chaotic good, human gladiator wearing a belt of giant strength [frost giant]), the daughter of the gate-town’s previous ruler, Flatnose Grim. Loyal and tempestuous, she leaps into the fray with a thunderous cry. The one-armed warrior’s face and body bear the scars of countless duels, and the gnarled haft of her trusty battleaxe is said to be a splinter from the World Tree. Off the field, she loves a strong drink and a good laugh with her comrades.

Invaders from far and wide seek to conquer Glorium. Surtur and Thrym—the mighty patron deities of fire and frost giants, respectively—regularly send hulking subjects to pillage the wintry camp, darkening its skies with ash and snow. Meanwhile, nomadic groups of mountain bariaurs hold back the alien armies of Gzemnid, a gaseous beholder god.

A quote from Tyrza Bonebreaker, mayor of Glorium

“Glory? Ha! What do any of us know of glory? We’re still alive! You seek a reward that can be attained only in death.”

Gate

Unlike other gate-towns, Glorium has two planar gates. The first and most obvious is a whirlpool at the mouth of the fjord that connects to Ysgard. Wide enough to accommodate a frost giant longship, the watery gate reverses its tide twice each day, allowing boats to voyage to the chaotic plane and back again. Though the swirling portal allows Glorium to trade with settlements on Ysgard, it also makes them vulnerable to that plane’s invaders.

The second gate is a legend deep within the gate-town’s snow-capped mountains: a secret entrance to Yggdrasil, the cosmic tree that connects the Outer Planes. It appears as a mass of knotted, intertwined roots surrounded by softly drifting motes of light. The tangled roots part to form an arched portal to Ysgard, but with the corresponding portal key, it can take entrants almost anywhere in the multiverse.

Worldroot Circle

Agents of an ancient druidic circle of giants, the Worldroot Circle, tend to Glorium’s hidden gate. Believing the sacred plant to be a seedling of Yggdrasil, they nurture the sapling and use it to commune with members of the circle on other worlds. A treant born from its roots, Yggatha, defends the gate chamber at all hours. The “Worldroot Circle” is further detailed in “Bigby Presents: Glory of the Giants”.

Regional Effects

The region containing Glorium’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Ysgard, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Destined for Glory. Creatures in Glorium have advantage on death saving throws.
• Horns of Battle. Whenever a conflict of any sort starts in Glorium, a horn can be heard within 300 feet of the conflict’s origin.

Noteworthy Sites

Compared to its surroundings, Glorium is small and humble, nestled between glacial fjords, lofty mountains, and forested skerries. It boasts no inns or busy welcome centers, and when there are no battles, daily life is calm and mundane. Common pastimes in Glorium include blacksmithing, boatbuilding, farming, and training.

House of Glory

The sounds of drums erupt within the House of Glory, a mammoth of a gymnasium where warriors boast, revel, and train. Weapons of past heroes line its wooden halls: frayed hand wraps, fencing sabers, flagged spears, folding iron fans, and colorful wicker shields mounted beside trophies of battle. Among them hangs a magic tapestry adorned with a scene of charging warriors. Its image changes after each battle, reflecting any newly fallen heroes.

A crackling firepit dominates a smoky chamber in another area of the lodge filled with the succulent scent of roasting meats. Magnificent feasts, given by gods of war to their followers, appear on long wooden tables throughout, imbuing warriors with the strength to fight again.

Sacred Well

A prophetic hag coven lairs in the Sacred Well, a temple of fate at the edge of Glorium. Respected by the townsfolk, the hags greet visitors with twisted smiles, their eyes always obscured by ominous horned headdresses. For a price, the hags can interpret the grand tapestry of fate on another’s behalf, glimpsing where the threads of destiny begin and end. Occasionally, the hags prophesize catastrophes yet to come, calling on heroes to rise and shape the future.

Serpent’s Rise

Named for the stone serpent that arches over its snowy peaks, the mountains of Serpent’s Rise are home to several bariaur communities. Jek Thanol, a bearded bariaur wanderer (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”) with a jeweled eye patch, leads the largest tribe, which enjoys a tenuous alliance with Glorium. The bariaurs are sentinels who treat the serpent’s coils as bridges between summits and strike down Gzemnid’s forces wherever they pop up.

An absinthine-eyed human child, the so-called Lemming Boy, appears to mountain travelers, offering to guide them through the bluffs. Those who accept his services are quickly ambushed by Aberrations or left to die in avalanches or pits lined with glassy shards of permafrost. Survivors of the snickering child claim he’s a disguised trickster god.

Adventures in Glorium

The Glorium Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Hopeless

Gate Destination: Gray Wastes of “Hades”

• Primary Citizens. Humanoids
• Ruler. High Cardinal Thingol

Aptly named, Hopeless is a dreary town with but one entrance: the Screaming Gate, a garish archway of red stone carved in the shape of a howling face. Crimson streaks of chipping paint run from its wide, empty eyes like pained tears on either side of an elongated mouth. It’s the only pop of color in the somber town, a spiral of weathered gray buildings in a pit under a perpetually overcast sky.

The residents of Hopeless are a gloomy lot—defeated folk with nowhere else to go and no energy to leave. They dress in drab, monotonous garments devoid of color or fashion, trudging listlessly down the gate-town’s single, curling avenue like sewage to a drain. Too despondent to muster emotion, locals are neither friendly nor spiteful—they simply exist. Not surprisingly, they are easily conquered, as was the case when the town’s current ruler, a mysterious Humanoid called High Cardinal Thingol, entered the Screaming Gate with a pack of beholders poised to enforce her will. Nicknamed the Maiden of Misery, Thingol floats through Hopeless adorned with an expressionless iron mask and a robe of rattling chains. The unfeeling tyrant’s laws change by the day, but her disdain for color and emotion are constant. This joyless executioner compounds the sorrow of her subjects.

Some doubt the High Cardinal’s claim that she was once a mage of a dying world, while others spurn the notion that she’s mortal at all. Still, a glimmer of hope flickers among the townsfolk, who rebel against the high cardinal and her beholders in small ways while they gather the strength to put up a real fight.

Gate

The gate-town’s only road ends in the center of a pit in a circular courtyard where a bottomless well bubbles with thick, black gunk. Creatures who enter the squelching reservoir, known as the Wishless Well, arise in Hades covered in the sticky tar, which is said to be the same substance from which the ageless baernaloths sculpted the first demodand (both creatures are detailed in “Morte’s Planar Parade”).

The gate is prone to overflowing. Oozes, yugoloths, and liquefied demodands gurgle to the surface and pour over its gray stone edge. Notices around the Wishless Well warn townsfolk against tossing coins into the well, which causes it to spurt a jet of inky sludge.

Regional Effects

The region containing Hopeless’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Hades, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Lingering Apathy. The residents of Hopeless are cheerless and indifferent. Charisma (Performance and Persuasion) checks to influence them are made with disadvantage.
• Wasting Pigments. Hopeless leeches the color from its inhabitants. Creatures’ skin, scales, and fur fade to gray, and nonmagical clothing and equipment exhibit ashen tones.

A quote from High Cardinal Thingol

“Let me guess. You’re going to dance? Splendid. Be careful not to slip on the ashes. I’ve never cared for slapstick comedy.”

Noteworthy Sites

Arranged in a dizzying spiral around a lonely cobblestone avenue, Hopeless is composed of worn, leaden buildings and crooked towers. Visitors who plod down the main road from the Screaming Gate eventually come to the Wishless Well, passing a host of dull establishments selling even duller sundries.

Castle of Bone

Said to be the quietest—or least depressing—inn in Hopeless, the Castle of Bone is run by Roric Witherblade (neutral good wight) and his modest staff of neutral skeletons. A Sensate in life, Roric perished in Hopeless while touring the planes, killed by a beholder’s death ray for delighting townsfolk with his showy outfit and song. In undeath, he continues to rebel, hoping to overthrow the High Cardinal and her entourage of eleven-eyed tyrants.

On the first floor, Roric’s skeleton crew serves unappetizing platters of bland food and chalky mugs of watered-down booze. But beneath the bar lies a Sensate speakeasy: a vibrant, elegant chamber filled with a cornucopia of pleasures banned in Hopeless. Far from the prying eyes of the cardinal’s beholders, the townsfolk plot their rebellion and partake in rich food and drink. They are careful not to overindulge, however. Strong emotion causes splotches of color to return to their faces, making them prime targets for the high cardinal’s watchful servants.

Gallows

When townsfolk suspected of crimes aren’t disintegrated on the spot, High Cardinal Thingol allows the accused a chance at salvation on an infamous stage called the Gallows. Before their executions, the Maiden of Misery grants criminals the chance to put on the performance of a lifetime. If their display makes her feel an ounce of emotion, the high cardinal vows to set them free. Thus far, she’s never had to honor her word. The stage is littered with the ashen remains of disintegrated entertainers.

Tomdon Manor

The dead dance in Tomdon Manor, a haunted mansion at the edge of town. The once-elegant three-story villa is in a state of disrepair. Dusty planks cover its broken windows, and shingles dangle from its slumping roof. The estate once belonged to the Tomdon twins, a pair of failed entrepreneurs who risked everything to save their dying business, even their souls. When a sudden and grisly accident claimed both of their lives in one fell swoop, the twins awoke as wraiths. They quickly preyed on their household staff, condemning them to serve the manor beyond death as specters.

Some nights, the manor comes to life, and music can be heard within. Free from their glum tethers, spirits gather for a supernatural soiree hosted by the phantom brothers. Will-o’-wisps appear on the balconies, tempting curious townsfolk to venture inside, where the Tomdon twins and their staff prepare to feed on the misery of their living guests.

Adventures in Hopeless

The Hopeless Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Plague-Mort

Gate Destination: Infinite Layers of the “Abyss”

• Primary Citizens. Demons and Humanoids
• Ruler. Archlector Bex

Might and treachery rule in Plague-Mort, an autocratic cesspool teetering on the unhallowed brink of the Abyss. Rotting shacks, crumbling stone edifices, and derelict streets lie in the shadow of a silvery keep atop a gray hill. An imposing fortress of demonic construction, Blightsteel Keep, towers over the broken town that encircles it, separated by a bubbling moat of black ichor. From within its walls, an iron-hoofed tyrant, Archlector Bex (lawful evil bariaur wanderer; see “Morte’s Planar Parade”), lords over Plague-Mort and its despicable townsfolk, even as they plot against him.

Trust has no place here. The citizens of Plague-Mort are a sinister lot, traitors eagerly awaiting the chance to plunge their daggers into each other’s backs. They vie against each other to supplant the archlector, a position prized for its access to demon lords and their dark gifts. The throne’s despotic inheritor is doomed to defend the seat from an unending torrent of assassins and usurpers. Their pattern of betrayal has one exception. Periodically, the townsfolk band together to combat the demonic hordes birthed from Plague-Mort’s festering gate.

Demon ichor—a malodorous reduction of blood, bodily fluids, and viscera left by slain demons—oozes from Plague-Mort’s sewers and chokes local wildlife, transforming fauna into grotesque Fiends that prey on a wretched populace. Disease runs rampant, but those who succumb to illness or infection don’t stay dead for long. Undead are a common nuisance, as pox-ridden corpses regularly return to confront their oppressors.

A quote from Alorio Nightriddle. archlector's adviser

“The knife of betrayal is best twisted twice–once in the back and again in the grave. Trust no one, not even the dead.”

Gate

Plague-Mort’s gate is the Pit, an inky sinkhole that churns within a locked chamber in the archlector’s keep. A mangled steel platform extends directly over the Pit, and walls of thick briars surround its swirling edge. A garrison of armored demons, the Hounds, defends the gate and its keep. Once human vassals who lived outside the keep, the Fiends swear tenuous fealty to Archlector Bex so long as he furthers the interests of the Abyss.

The whims of demon lords creep from the dark well to the ears of the archlector, an unwitting puppet who pines for their power. He does their bidding, and in turn, the Pit whispers the names of mutinous townsfolk and other rising threats. Known dissenters are marched up the platform and cast into the noxious void. Moments later, the Pit belches up a demon to serve in the ranks of the Hounds.

Demonic Incursions

At any moment, a horde of demons could spill from the Pit and stain Plague-Mort’s streets with chaos and bloodshed. Though these recurring events are largely unpredictable, many believe the demonic incursions are punishment for holiness within the town. Kindness and piety are met with hostility and horror, and townsfolk overwhelmingly view missionaries of good-aligned deities as ill omens that must be wrangled and pitched into the Pit.

Regional Effects

The region containing Plague-Mort’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of the Abyss, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Demon Ichor. Demon ichor pollutes nearby water sources. Local wildlife that come into direct contact with the unholy gunk acquire demonic attributes, such as multiple heads, leathery wings, or writhing tentacles.
• Persistent Pestilence. Residents of Plague-Mort display various symptoms of supernatural illness. Townsfolk have sickly complexions and commonly cough up flies or wipe ichor from their dribbling noses.
• Undead Townsfolk. Dead townsfolk periodically return as skeletons, zombies, and revenants.

Noteworthy Sites

Plague-Mort is a bleak town of cobblestone streets and simple buildings clustered around a colorless hill. Cursed farmlands lie beyond the town.

Blightsteel Keep

The archlector rules from an unyielding steel fortress on a barren hilltop. A moat of demon ichor surrounds the ash-gray hill, polluted by countless demons who gleefully bathe in the foul sludge. Living gargoyles adorn Blightsteel Keep’s metallic eaves, and bloodthirsty demons roam its luxurious halls in service to Archlector Bex.

Bex’s second-in-command is the sniveling Alorio Nightriddle (chaotic evil, human mage). Alorio acts as Bex’s distrusted adviser and maintains the keep and its staff. It’s an open secret that Alorio covets the throne, but he isn’t above groveling to support his illusion of loyalty.

Plague-Mort isn’t the first town founded on the gaping maw of the Abyss, and it won’t be the last. In years past, the Pit has expanded suddenly and without warning, swallowing the town and its inhabitants into one of the plane’s infinite layers. Each time, however, Blightsteel Keep remains, stubborn and eternal.

Outlying Farms

The gate-town’s desecrated farmlands lie at the edge of town. Given the gate-town’s steady supply of corpses, some macabre farmers fertilize their crops with the dead. Bountiful harvests sprout from crooked stalks in forlorn farmlands, their red fruits plump, juicy, and delicious. However, some crops are marked by wrinkled, blood-hued pustules that burst and spoil adjacent harvests if not pruned in time. If allowed to seep into the soil, the pustules’ liquid causes buried corpses to rise as hostile Undead. The cursed blight goads farmers to wade into the stalks and reap what they sow.

Razed Altar

Believed to have once been a temple to a god of learning, Plague-Mort’s abandoned cathedral has become a monument to malice: the Razed Altar. Vindictive townsfolk gather in its shattered stained-glass halls to plot against the archlector and trade cursed items.

Adventures in Plague-Mort

The Plague-Mort Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories involving the gate-town.

Ribcage

Gate Destination: “Nine Hells” of Baator

• Primary Citizens. Devils and Humanoids
• Ruler. Duchess Zelza Zurkbane

Ribcage is the blackened heart of the Vale of the Spine, a jagged range of barren mountains whose peaks curve inward around a smoldering valley. Iron walls encircle the fortified town, and two rows of cracked, dry spires of rock curl over its arid sky—the earthen ribs from which the gate-town derives its name. Ribcage’s menacing, arched gates, festooned with wings like those of a bat and forged from infernal steel, allude to the power of the Lords of the Nine Hells.

Bound to the Nine Hells and its rigid hierarchy of backstabbing Fiends, Ribcage obeys a strict but mobile caste system. Stratified by morality, residents climb the rungs of society through guile, treachery, and devilish deals to obtain power at any cost. As a result, the town’s lowliest paupers exhibit redeemable qualities, while the nobility are all but soulless—vile individuals who spend their days in decadence until their infernal pacts come due.

To prevent the gate-town from becoming so evil that it experiences a cosmic realignment, Duchess Zelza Zurkbane (lawful evil succubus) and her senators have enacted a policy limiting the number of devils in Ribcage. A succubus in a suit and tie, Duchess Zurkbane masquerades as a tiefling arbiter. Severed unicorn horns support the soles of her clacking obsidian heels, and her briefcase—a subservient mimic—snaps open to reveal a drooling maw of jagged teeth. Her Excellency rarely shows her true form and keeps her abilities secret, preferring to drain her victims through legal proceedings and blackmail. Duchess Zurkbane wants nothing more than to plunge Ribcage into the Nine Hells and expects the Lords of the Nine will reward her for the accomplishment.

Gate

A column of roaring red flame swirls within the Citadel of Cinders, a walled structure in the center of town. Surrounded by silvery ash—said to be all that remains of those who challenged archdevils and lost—the fiery pillar transports entrants to the desolate wastelands of Avernus, the war-torn first layer of the Nine Hells. Clever Fiends and mages can change the gate’s destination, warping the pillar into an icy mirror that leads to the glacial layer of Cania or a noxious cloud leading to the rotting bog of Minauros. Only Asmodeus, Archduke of Nessus, can link the pillar to the lowest layer of the Nine Hells.

In addition to the obsidian walls that surround the citadel, a garrison of devils defends Ribcage’s gate. In times of invasion or other wide-scale conflicts, the duchess can beseech Avernus to deploy infernal armies and weapons of war through the portal.

Regional Effects

The region containing Ribcage’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of the Nine Hells, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Diabolical Surveillance. Fiendish, yellow eyes peer through windows, pools, and other reflective surfaces to judge citizens of Ribcage. Meanwhile, the duchess and her senators can listen in on any message and sending spells cast within Ribcage, occasionally intercepting them.
• Insatiable Greed. Creatures in or near the gate-town crave power in all its forms, but their accomplishments are never enough. Thirsts for dominance are never quenched in the desiccated valley, where each victory feels hollower than the last.

A quote from Duchess Zelza Zurkbane

“Who needs an iron fist when you have a contract?”

Noteworthy Sites

Ribcage consists of five districts clustered around the Citadel of Cinders. Buildings are constructed from iron or hewn from sharp stones, with size and ornamentation varying by wealth and social status. The town’s five senators preside over one district each.

Bleeding Horn

Like molten blood, red-hot lava pours from a stony rib into the taproom of the Bleeding Horn, a devil-owned tavern located in one of Ribcage’s wealthier districts. The duchess and her senators tolerate its proprietor, an ice devil named Sparax who helps dry-tongued locals quench their thirst with chilled cocktails. The heat from the glowing lava fall behind the bar keeps drink orders coming. Loose-lipped nobles regularly spill secrets and rumors to Sparax, who always keeps one antenna to the ground.

Citadel of Cinders

A walled, ebony fortress rests on a dusty crag in the center of town. Considered Ribcage’s exclusive sixth district, the Citadel of Cinders is the gate-town’s seat of law and corruption. Here, Duchess Zurkbane’s senators—an easily manipulated quintet of bloated, self-important sycophants—help her maintain the illusion of a just government.

An iron statue of Duchess Zurkbane stands in the citadel’s courtyard, holding aloft a pair of burning scales. Behind it lies the Court of Cinders, an ornate house of law where devil magistrates administer justice on behalf of the diabolical courts of the Nine Hells. Their jurisdiction is loosely defined, however, and creatures that break laws elsewhere in the Outlands sometimes wind up in the Court of Cinders due to fine print in devil-authored legal codes.

Gymnasium of Steam

Located just outside the town walls, the Gymnasium of Steam provides respite to weary travelers who have business in Ribcage but want to avoid the duchess and her oligarchs. The resort leverages a network of scalding geysers and terraced volcanic springs to create a paradise of steam rooms, saunas, and luxurious baths. Nobles schmooze with mercenaries and sellswords in the gymnasium’s humid, ruby-tiled chambers, plotting the demise or demotion of their neighbors. Meanwhile, invisible imps spy on the resort’s patrons on behalf of high-ranking devils, gleaning the visitors’ deepest secrets when their guards are lowered.

Adventures in Ribcage

The Ribcage Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Rigus

Gate Destination: Infinite Battlefield of “Acheron”

• Primary Citizens. Humanoids
• Rulers. The Crown Generals

Generals stoke the fires of war in Rigus, a permanent military encampment linked to a plane of battle and bloodshed. Constructed in tiers on a fortified hill, Rigus is a monument to military strength. Eight octagonal iron walls, menacing and impenetrable, divide the town into seven stacked rings festooned with banners of war. Advanced siege weapons are anchored to their angular battlements. Soldiers rise at the crack of dawn to the punctual call of brass horns, filling the gate-town’s tented circuits with the drum of marching boots and cadence calls sung by warriors honing their bodies for an unending war.

Rigus follows a strict military hierarchy in which everyone has a rank. Commoners and green recruits come in as privates, the lowest designation in the gate-town save for prisoners of war. Their arms tire from saluting their superiors and thankless, menial work. Citizens are expected to comply with orders from commanding officers, who don’t tolerate disobedience lightly. With time and dedication, ambitious cadets can graduate to respected positions. Accomplished adventurers quickly ascend the ladder, but unproven visitors—called “slates” after the blank, chalk-white badges they wear within the town—are paid little attention.

The six Crown Generals are the top brass in Rigus. Seasoned tacticians with centuries of battlefield experience between them, they command the armies of nations. Among them is General Braahg (lawful neutral hobgoblin warlord), a broad-shouldered, gray-haired commander from the world of Toril. Clad in crimson plate, the general pays homage to the Red Knight, a god of strategy whom he reveres. Deep down, Braahg hates war and all its destruction. Stern and contemplative, he moves the pawns in his war tent with deliberation, knowing each toppled piece represents thousands of casualties. The pensive general harbors many secrets, the darkest of which can end entire worlds. Braahg’s disdain for the conflict he oversees is counter to the gate-town’s warlike nature and tempers Rigus just enough to keep it in the Outlands.

Gate

The gate to Acheron rests in a spacious hangar deep beneath the tiered hill. In addition to natural underground tunnels, the chamber has two main entrances. One is a mile-long, wrought-iron staircase located in the gate-town’s highest district: the Crown. The other lies in plain sight—a massive, octagonal elevator that comprises Rigus’s penultimate ring. The platform responds only to the Crown Generals, who can lower the district—along with armies and weapons of war—to the gate chamber.

Nicknamed the Lion’s Gate, the portal looks like an enormous feline eye within an arch of bones, a gaseous curtain bisected by a roaring black stripe.

Regional Effects

The region containing Rigus’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Acheron, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Pulling Rank. Creatures in Rigus have advantage on Charisma (Intimidation) checks made to influence a creature of a lower rank. These creatures have disadvantage on Charisma (Intimidation) checks made to influence a creature of a higher rank.
• Regimented Populace. Creatures in Rigus are marked with a magical symbol denoting their rank and station. At the DM’s discretion, nonsapient creatures, such as certain Beasts or Plants, might not have a rank.

A quote from Koldrel, gate greeter

“Congratulations, slate! You’ve been enlisted in regiment 231. Take this mop and report to the second ring for latrine duty. Then, you’re headed to the front lines. Casualties are high, but so are the opportunities for promotion.”

Noteworthy Sites

Rigus is a fortified hill divided into seven districts, separated by thick iron walls and stratified by height. Tents, military buildings, and training camps line its ringed districts, overseen by guard towers equipped with siege weapons.

Bunkers

Rigus largely forgoes inns and taverns in favor of its bunkers, an underground complex of barracks and mess halls connected to all but the gate-town’s topmost ring. While there’s plenty of room to quarter soldiers above ground, generals find the cramped tunnel conditions foster more aggressive warriors. Life in the bunkers is mandatory for the gate-town’s rank and file, but visitors typically prefer to stay at the Broken Slate, an enduring surface tavern.

In addition to housing, the bunkers contain the gate-town’s armory and vehicle-storage facilities, as well as secluded administrative chambers where officials negotiate and strategize. Fetchtatter—a contemptible arcanaloth loyal to Bel, a former archdevil—frequents the bunkers. He acts as an infernal arms broker, selling war machines to the Crown Generals of Rigus.

Crown

While everyday soldiers are buried and honored in the Final Procession (detailed below), the generals of Acheron are entombed in the mausoleums of the Crown, Rigus’s dignified topmost ring. While some Crown Generals are content to enjoy the early retirement that death brings, others refuse to rest, joining a shadowy cabal of Undead warriors. Reborn as ghosts, liches, and mummy lords, they guide the Crown Generals from beyond the grave. The most feared and respected among them is the death knight Nagaro, a former paladin from the world of Krynn who severed her oath in her pursuit of conquest. While the strategies of other Undead generals in her company have grown stale with their desiccation, General Nagaro remains as sharp and ruthless as ever.

Final Procession

A monument of reflection amid a hungry machine of death, the Final Procession is dedicated to the countless lives sacrificed in conflicts across the multiverse. The memorial consists of upright sepulchres and tall, granite steles engraved with the names of fallen heroes. History is written by the victors, however, who don’t always respect their enemies, no matter how brave or honorable those foes might have been.

The Final Procession is also a place of ceremony. Generals frequently award medals of bravery to valiant souls, whether living or dead, before an audience of their comrades at the memorial.

Adventures in Rigus

The Rigus Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Sylvania

Gate Destination: Olympian Glades of “Arborea”

• Primary Citizens. Fey and Humanoids
• Ruler. The Seven Spiritors

Sylvania is a nonstop party, a boisterous glade that thrums with revelry at all hours. Elves and hobgoblins dance together in glittering patches of magical light, serenaded by singing harpies and the drum of satyr hooves on hollow stumps. Locals treat every visitor like the celebration is just for them, adorning each guest’s head with a flower crown and fashioning them garments in theme with the current festival, which changes by the day.

A quote from Dewie Doubledare (may he rest in peace)

“Hey, everybody, watch this!”

The gate-town’s buildings are enchanting structures intertwined with the forest around them. Toadstools sprout from the mossy roofs of squat hill homes, and tiered, open-air ballrooms soar into the sky on the alabaster branches of wise, old sycamores.

The Seven Spiritors, eidolons of revelry from the plane of Arborea, govern the gate-town. Neither living nor dead, these eternal beings act as Sylvania’s party planners, peacekeepers, and gracious hosts. Virtues of celebration, the Spiritors are manifestations of nostalgia, passion, and relaxation, among other things. They have no known physical forms, instead preferring to roister along in commandeered vessels, such as willing party guests, animated statues, or meticulously trimmed topiary hedges.

Mystified by a panoply of delights, partygoers sometimes become prime targets for malevolent forces. Hags and other Fey lure gullible celebrants to eerie cottages. Other guests become so lost in the celebrations they never leave, stupefied in an unshakable trance of numb ecstasy.

Gate

The gate to Arborea rests in the dense forest that encircles Sylvania. The woods nearest the town are jovial and bright, but farther out, they fill with darkness, mystery, and even violence. Unlike the portals in most other gate-towns, Sylvania’s portal moves through the forest on a whim, opening in an aged tree hollow one day and a circle of stones the next. The Seven Spiritors always know the gate’s current location, but the portal never stays there for long.

Regional Effects

The region containing Sylvania’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Arborea, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Guest of Honor. Everyone in Sylvania knows each other’s preferred name. Creatures that have never met recall small tidbits about each other like old acquaintances. This effect doesn’t pierce magical disguises or false identities.
• Life of the Party. Music and merriment pervade the town. Flowers and trees bob to the beat, and small birds and sentient teakettles whistle jaunty tunes.
• Natural Remedy. Sylvania wards its guests from the negative effects of overindulgence. Creatures have advantage on saving throws against the poisoned condition.

Noteworthy Sites

Scent and sound are handy guides in Sylvania, a rustic hodgepodge of architectural styles joined by winding footpaths and noisy parades. Establishments are caricatures of the splendors within, from the bubbling chimneys of kettle-shaped teahouses to macabre ballrooms in the boughs of decaying pines.

Goodberry Grove

Celebrations start small in Goodberry Grove. The idyllic thicket of charming shrubs abounds with nourishing berries produced by primal magic each dawn. Nestled amid the speckled shrubberies and vivid toadstools is Ewrendar, a pixie kingdom ruled by King Ewren III (chaotic neutral pixie), the Party Pixie. A miniature monarchy, Ewrendar crowns its leader based on how hard they can party in a tournament of unhinged jubilance.

Widow’s Henge

Deep in Sylvania’s woods, a secluded arrangement of eight ancient menhirs looms over a silent clearing. Worn by time, the standing stones’ inscriptions are inscrutable to wandering partygoers. Some believe the monument was once a cage for the Seven Spiritors or a prison for the ruler who preceded them. Others claim the monoliths denote a site for druidic rituals to an unknown nature god.

Not long ago, one of the stones collapsed inward, causing the entire forest to shudder. For a moment, the party stopped, its music briefly replaced by an ominous whisper heard by all. Locals quickly shrugged off the event and resumed the festivities, but since then, strange, sumptuous feasts have appeared on the toppled stone, covered end to end like a table of pale, calcified rock. Birds and woodland creatures avoid the lifeless site. Wayward travelers who partake of its temptations are never seen again.

Yearning Timbers

The Yearning Timbers are the perfect party venue, a gaudy event hall carved from an enormous banyan tree that was once an elven temple. The hall’s branches are graceful and pearl white, interlacing into bridges and pointed, symmetrical archways. Magic blankets the tree, allowing the Seven Spiritors to rearrange it to suit a variety of themes, right down to the weather: springtime garden parties lush with gossip and savory hors d’oeuvres, romantic balls beneath cascading autumn leaves, and psychedelic raves illuminated by glowing fungi.

To keep each celebration fresh, the Seven Spiritors maintain a constantly evolving list of special guests, renowned and infamous entities from across the multiverse. Many gods are invited to the Yearning Timbers, but few attend. Particularly polite deities, such as the drow god Eilistraee, send proxies to express their regrets. Only gods who love a good shindig—like Alobal Lorfiril, elven god of revelry and mirth—regularly accept. Clout-chasing empyreans routinely appear, eager to gain new followers or quench their foul moods. Party crashers are a common nuisance.

A nocturnal club nicknamed the Afterparty resides beneath the tree’s roots. It’s a who’s who of Undead—liches, vampire lords, and skeletal folk of all shapes and sizes. Jergal, the apathetic former Lord of the End of Everything, regularly challenges visitors to a game of skull bocce. Legend has it he’s been defeated only once.

Adventures in Sylvania

The Sylvania Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Torch

Gate Destination: Bleak Eternity of “Gehenna”

Primary Citizens: Humanoids and yugoloths

• Ruler. The Family

Torch is a den of thieves built on the slopes of three volcanic spires that rise from a blood-red marsh. Formed from hardened molten rock, the pillars alternate in spewing blazing streams of pyrophoric gas, providing light and heat to the town.

Clustered buildings retreat from the pestilent swamp, climbing each spire to its steep, walled-off heights. Notorious kingpins, brazen embezzlers, and brooding criminal masterminds look down on petty larcenists from their towering hideouts, but danger still looms even for those at the top. Without warning, the hollow peaks erupt with sporadic jets of lava and flaming rockslides, or as the locals say, “trouble above, trouble below.”

The people of Torch are crooked, greedy, and cruel. Townsfolk eye each other with suspicion as they pass through the sloped alleys, clutching their purses in one hand and brandishing cautionary blades in the other. Grifters, bullies, and bandits serve as minions for Torch’s numerous criminal syndicates, seedy organizations preoccupied with robbing each other and destroying rival guilds.

The gate-town is controlled by the Family, a tenebrous inner circle of crime bosses who enforce some semblance of honor among the thieves of Torch. Admission into the Family is by invite only. The full roster of members is shrouded in secrecy, as are the venues for their conclaves. Even so, some names in Torch carry more weight than others, and locals can’t help but speculate about such folk’s involvement in the town’s hidden oligarchy.

Gate

Like a bloodshot eye gazing over the Outlands or a scarlet gemstone begging to be plucked from the sky, the gate to Gehenna floats a hundred feet above the walled upper slopes of Torch’s middle spire, Maygel. The portal is difficult to reach without flight, but some ambitious creatures attempt the perilous climb to Maygel’s highest point, a caustic precipice wracked by acrid fumes that ignite on exposure to the atmosphere. From there, it’s a leap of faith.

Old Goldbelly

A decrepit ancient red dragon, Old Goldbelly, slumbers in the fires of Maygel, his rumbling snores heard within the lambent pillar. An ill-tempered miser, the cranky wyrm wakes only to add to his hoard. Those who offer payment at his shrine, a gilded bowl near the spire’s peak, can petition Old Goldbelly to ferry them to the gate. However, those who disturb him with paltry sums risk his ire.

Regional Effects

The region containing Torch’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Gehenna, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Bottomless Greed. Equipment and lifestyle expenses in Torch are twice their normal cost.
• Lure of Avarice. Visible coinage, jewelry, and magic items in Torch entice nearby creatures with faint, unintelligible whispers. The more valuable the item, the louder the whispers become.

A quote from The Mirrored Man, leader of the Lookalikes

“There’s nothing more valuable than identity. Riches, once stolen, can be recouped, but reputations can be ruined beyond repair. Steal a name, and you steal everything it owns.”

Noteworthy Sites

Torch is divided among its three volcanic pillars—Dohin, Karal, and Maygel—after which its districts are named. High walls along the top of each spire separate the rich from the riffraff, and two huge iron bridges connect Maygel to Dohin and Karal. Each district is divided into an upper and lower subdistrict. The gaudy buildings along the upper slopes are typically constructed from stone or metal, while the moldy piers of Torch’s lowest districts feature glassless windows and rotten, waterlogged planks.

Bank of Abbathor

Headquartered in the city of Sigil, the “Bank of Abbathor” (detailed in “chapter 2”) services customers across the planes. Account holders can visit a branch of the respected financial institution in the Outlands, just spireward of the bridge in Upper Dohin, but they might not like what they see.

The Bank of Abbathor in Torch is a cesspool of white-collar crime. Fraud, money laundering, and forgery run rampant within the once-shining branch, whose crumbling roof collapsed long ago. Pummeled and melted by fiery rockslides, the statue of Abbathor in the lobby is hardly recognizable. The bank’s original tellers are gone, replaced by profiteers who skim a few coins off every transaction. They don’t keep their ill-gotten gains for long, however. The branch gets robbed at least once a week.

Bloodied Marsh

A sanguine marsh festers at Torch’s lowest point. Sickly yugoloths row along its malodorous waters, reveling in the death and disease they bring. Like a seeping wound, the marsh engulfs the lower city in crimson murk, transforming it into a temporary playground for a slaad colony that dwells elsewhere in the bog. Residents exposed to the floods often fall ill, stricken with curses and supernatural plague if they aren’t dragged away by croaking Aberrations.

Gang Hideouts

Criminal organizations are plentiful in Torch. Their skeevy hideouts—ruled by monstrous ringleaders and their lieutenants—occupy the town’s three spires.

The following gangs, among others, are headquartered in Torch:

The Lookalikes are a group of shapeshifting identity thieves led by an elusive doppelganger called the Mirrored Man. The group holes up in a wax museum in Lower Maygel.

The Severed Hands are a procession of grave robbers who collect hands from the corpses they plunder. Tricksters and charlatans, they masquerade as humble priests, swapping their robes for shovels come nightfall. The group gathers its spoils in a run-down temple in Lower Dohin.

The Stolen Glance is a society of fences and curators overseen by a callous, chain-smoking medusa named Zephesta. The group deals in precious art objects from an illegal gallery in Lower Karal.

Adventures in Torch

The Torch Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Tradegate

Gate Destination: Twin Paradises of “Bytopia”

• Primary Citizens. Humanoids
• Ruler. The Five Star Guild

A hub of ethical trade, the gate-town to Bytopia brings a slice of Sigil’s sprawling markets to the Outer Planes without the breakneck pace or cutthroat competition of that multiversal hub. Tradegate is a town of industrious laborers and gentle traders, buzzy plazas and quaint boutiques, and quiet crafts and wild inventions.

Tradegate’s citizens are upright, productive, and optimistic. Dwarves and gnomes abound in the star-shaped town, acting as builders, merchants, and tinkerers who aren’t strangers to the daily grind. Under the guidance of the Five Star Guild—a council of entrepreneurs, innovators, and representatives from the town mint—Tradegate has risen to a mercantile powerhouse at the center of the Great Wheel.

Coinage from across the multiverse flows through Tradegate. The gate-town simplifies market exchanges by minting its own currency, a magnetic cobalt coin known as a lodestar. The lodestar has become a standard currency accepted in transactions throughout the Outlands. However, the currency isn’t as stable as its prevalence suggests.

Due to its reputation for economic prosperity, Tradegate has become the target of raids, the worst of which is a recurring group of treasure-hungry xorn. Periodically, the voracious Elementals surface in the town, destroying buildings and devouring the town’s plentiful reserves. Nevertheless, Tradegate’s stouthearted folk remain undeterred, hastily rebuilding demolished businesses.

Gate

Visitors struggle to locate the gate to Bytopia, a living portal that appears as a bearded bariaur called the Trade Master. His long, recurved horns are easy to spot, gilded appendages embellished with dangling coins from across the multiverse. Rumored to be an incarnation of a deity of commerce or a planar manifestation of trade itself, the Trade Master appears as a bariaur wanderer (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”) who can cast the gate spell at will, requiring no material components.

Entrants must barter with the Trade Master to enter Bytopia. The many-horned bariaur knows everything an interested traveler owns down to the last coin, including abstract holdings and objects of sentimental value—memories, keepsakes, and songs. The Trade Master’s price is high but fair, tailored to the individual’s wealth. Those who attempt to swindle the Trade Master or threaten their way into Bytopia might be banished to some remote plane with a stamp of the bariaur’s hoof.

Regional Effects

The region containing Tradegate’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Bytopia, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Crafty Town. The time and cost required to craft nonmagical objects, such as adventuring equipment, are halved in Tradegate.
• Resilient Production. Damaged buildings, roads, and structures in Tradegate are repaired by its populace within 1d10 days.

Noteworthy Sites

Shaped like a star, Tradegate has five triangular districts, separated by industry and arranged around a pentagonal plaza of shops called the Everything Emporium. Creativity shines in the open-air marketplace, a break from the unfussy designs and gray-stone warehouses that make up much of the town.

Everything Emporium

Built on a checkered pattern of glittering gold-and-violet tiles, the Everything Emporium is Tradegate’s main attraction. The emporium features extraordinary wares from every corner of the planes, but despite the ever-present crowds, shoppers remain unusually polite. Buyers form orderly lines around businesses, which range from quaint curiosity shops with niche gnomish appliances to squat dwarven forges with their bellowing furnaces. No one shoves their way to the front of a queue, and no illegal market awaits contrabandists after sundown. Theft is rare, though guards are still present in the form of awakened Bytopian trees and lawful Celestials who know a lie when they hear one.

A quote from Forbi Figglemendle, Tradegate entrepreneur

“Come on down to Forbi’s Fixers, located across from Ooze Choose in the Everything Emporium! Apply just one coat of our award-winning Fixin’ Polish, and your armor will be shinier than a modron’s backside.”

Manyroads’s Maps

The Outlands’ most renowned cartographer is Melvin Manyroads, an energetic conjurer (chaotic good, gnome mage) who dwells in a turquoise tower with a marigold roof. Peppy and loquacious, he roams the planes for weeks at a time, intent on charting every square inch of the multiverse. He funds his explorations by selling maps to fellow wanderers and adventurers, as well as the occasional tourist.

Melvin’s maps aren’t always cheap—or accurate, for that matter—but his atlas is brimming at the seams. The hospitable gnome claims to have mapped hundreds of locations throughout the planes, including many of the gate-towns. Melvin offers discounts on older maps, but some of his earliest depictions are little more than interesting shapes with crude annotations.

Throughout his travels, Melvin has earned many enemies, having trespassed in the lairs of demon lords and hoodwinked gods to survey their domains. When he needs to skip town, the slippery cartographer collapses his tower into a magical map tube, slings it on his back, and sets up shop elsewhere.

Trademill Mint

Unless they plan to barter with locals, visitors should stop at the Trademill Mint, a high-security building where Tradegate produces its currency. Run by a board of trustees consisting mainly of financially inclined dwarves, the mint is a cobalt fortress where traders can exchange virtually anything for its worth in lodestars.

The Trademill Mint’s most senior board member—a nervous, monocled economist named Erasimus Astralbeard (neutral, dwarf noble)—is the source of the town’s recent troubles. Not long ago, when Tradegate was overflowing with coin, Erasimus secretly opened a portal to the Elemental Plane of Earth, introducing an aggressive group of xorn to the Outlands in hopes of counterbalancing Tradegate’s then-abundant wealth. However, the xorn’s greed proved insatiable, and the Elementals continue to sack the town for all it’s worth.

Adventures in Tradegate

The Tradegate Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Xaos

Gate Destination: Ever-Changing Chaos of “Limbo”

• Primary Citizens. Githzerai
• Ruler. Varies

Chaos reigns supreme in Xaos, a gate-town tethered to the ever-turbulent plane of Limbo, where reality is only as stable as the thoughts that bind it. Xaos lies in a region of extreme climates and varied terrain—rugged mountains, muddy swamps, balmy coasts, and barren dunes. The town’s fragile structures are hewn from obscure materials anchored to semi-stable foundations, and its roads are tumbling waves of cobblestone that upend and rearrange themselves without warning. Locals can’t even agree on how to pronounce the town’s name.

Xaos has no consistent ruler. The town’s sovereign fluctuates, chosen at random by a diadem of shifting crystals that appears atop the current ruler’s head. The crystal crown remains throughout a ruler’s reign, which can last for months or fizzle before their coronation is done. The laws a ruler makes are similarly temporary and futile, and criminals rarely serve their full sentences. Because of this, residents tend to live by their own creeds, carving out some semblance of order from a settlement in eternal flux. Either way, locals humor their leader—be they a beloved monarch or a despised tyrant—by addressing them as “Your Majesty.”

In recent years, Xaos has become a haven for the Sha’sal Khou, a group of githyanki and githzerai who fervently believe in the reunification of the gith. Considered radicals and outlaws by their fractured people, members of the Sha’sal Khou work secretly in their respective societies, subtly discouraging violence toward their gith kin while carefully recruiting like-minded individuals. As part of the organization’s goals, the Sha’sal Khou has founded a fortified enclave in Xaos masquerading as a githzerai embassy.

Gate

The gate to Limbo shifts with the town, changing shape and location at indeterminate intervals. In the morning, it might be the glaring eye of a cyclopean statue. By night, it could be a freestanding door, humming softly in the middle of a river of sluggish lava. Other times, the gate takes bizarre forms, such as a dull liquid in an antique chalice that must be sipped to transport creatures, or a sassy, sapient mouth that admits only those who reveal a titillating secret to it. Regardless of its form, the gate isn’t hard to identify; chaos swells around the portal—the eye of a maelstrom of change.

A quote from Bruth, Sha'sal Khou diplomat

“Chaos, much like order, begins in the mind. Refuse its entry into your thoughts, and Xaos is yours to mold.”

Regional Effects

The region containing Xaos’s planar gate is influenced by the magic of Limbo, creating one or more of the following effects in and around the gate-town:

• Chaotic Combustion. When a creature in Xaos casts a spell that deals acid, cold, fire, or lightning damage, the gate-town attempts to substitute that damage type for another. Roll a d4 for the new damage type, if any: (1) acid, (2) cold, (3) fire, or (4) lightning. This effect can change only one damage type per casting of a spell.
• Spontaneous Deconstruction. Structures in Xaos dissolve and re-form at random. Glass gymnasiums melt into metallic puddles that give way to brick taverns with belching smokestacks of poison gas, and so on. These transformations don’t harm Xaos’s inhabitants.

Noteworthy Sites

Xaos has no defined districts and few steady landmarks. Aside from a handful of local anchors—structures built on stable, neutral-aligned areas that resist the town’s volatile nature—nothing remains for long. Most homes and businesses are owned by githzerai, sculpted from currents of instability into ordered redoubts: towers of latticed diamond, domed obsidian taverns, and magnesium enclosures that shelter inhabitants from roiling storms of matter and energy.

The Cube

Recently, a unit of modrons from the far end of the Outlands set out to establish a degree of order in Xaos. The modrons’ solution was a lawful outpost: a polished brass polygon called the Cube. However, the gate-town gradually corrupted the outpost, which collapsed in on its occupants. Now, the Cube exists in a constant state of flux, an undulating, four-dimensional mass of repeating fractals and micrified contours. Those who enter the Cube are rarely seen again, and the few creatures that claim to have been inside the structure describe it as a hostile realm of mathematical impossibilities, a clockwork house of horrors.

Some residents speculate the Cube is alive—a hovering, sapient Construct that feeds on Xaos’s disorderly residents. Periodically, “Automata” deploys modrons to recover the lost unit, but they are swallowed just the same, absorbed into the belly of a massive, mechanical beast.

Githzerai Embassy

The githzerai embassy is an island of order amid a sea of chaos. The adamantine citadel floats above Xaos, held aloft by collective thought and focused meditation. A powerful sage named Almera (githzerai futurist; see “Morte’s Planar Parade”) defends, sustains, and reshapes the embassy with her psionic prowess.

Though it sees its share of legitimate ambassadors, the citadel is a front for the Sha’sal Khou. Normally mortal enemies, githyanki and githzerai live in harmony within its walls, raising children who are simply called gith. Almera keeps in touch with the organization’s covert leader, a powerful githyanki warlord named Zetch’r’r who has yet to visit the enclave.

The dread Lich-Queen Vlaakith, ruler of the githyanki, has issued a reward for the skulls of githyanki traitors, and she prizes those of the Sha’sal Khou above all others. As rumors drift through the Astral Sea of an enclave in the Outlands, some githyanki knights have begun poking their silver swords around Xaos in search of so-called radicals.

Slaadi Nest

The slaadi of Xaos drag their prey to a gooey nest on the edge of town. Cocooned within the bores of a mysterious geometric pillar, their victims become unwilling incubators for hideous slaad tadpoles that erupt from their hosts at birth.

Adventures in Xaos

The Xaos Adventures table offers suggestions for encounters and stories in the gate-town.

Other Realms

Outside the gate-towns lie walking castles, the lairs of timeless evils, and godly realms ruled by deities who dwell among their worshipers. The following realms exist in the Outlands.

Caverns of Thought

The spies of Ilsensine report to the Caverns of Thought, a hostile realm of alien tunnels deep beneath the Outlands. Cold and calculating, Ilsensine is a divine entity revered among illithids. Ilsensine’s infinite tentacles pervade the otherworldly caverns, worming their way into untold worlds. Eaters of knowledge (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”), along with mind flayers and their thralls, protect the hive mind, which intersects with “Gzemnid’s Realm” (detailed below).

The Great Brain rarely entertains visitors. However, creatures who aspire to slay or supplant gods sometimes find themselves in Ilsensine’s service, hoping to learn a fraction of the coveted secrets the deity has pried from the minds of the multiverse.

Court of Light

The Court of Light is home to Shekinester, the Three-Faced Queen of the Nagas. Ramps and serpentine architecture pervade her deceptively small realm, a palatial stone nest where Shekinester purifies entrants through magical tests. Coiled around the court is the Loom, a dense tangle of poisonous brambles with thorns dripping like fangs. Nagas slither to the Court of Light not only to worship the Three-Faced Queen, but also to share stories around the Arching Flame—a cleansing, eternal fire that remembers the oldest tales in the multiverse.

Dendradis

One of several rilmani (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”) communities, Dendradis is a vertical city of towers and bridges that knits across a fissure in the Spire. Rilmani number among the few who settle near the Spire, as most avoid the strange ambiance the impossibly tall mountain emanates. For the rilmani, the Spire is a sacred site—a manifestation of the multiverse in balance. Their metallic structures seal damage to the Spire and usually last for only a few hundred years before vanishing and leaving behind only smooth stone.

Dendradis is notable not only for its size but also because the slowly growing, lattice-like city works to cover a massive body entombed within the Spire. The rilmani who settle here know the massive corpse’s identity but keep this knowledge secret, leaving outsiders to speculate whether the corpse is a dead god, a visitor from beyond the multiverse, or something else entirely.

Flowering Hill

Just spireward of “Ecstasy” lies the Flowering Hill, a kaleidoscopic orchard and the divine realm of Sheela Peryroyl, the halfling god of agriculture. Vibrant wildflowers sprout behind every step taken in this agrarian community of sturdy fences and mossy hill homes. Halfling farmers live carefree lives in the Flowering Hill, tending to quaint but fertile plots, far from the hustle and bustle of busier locales and their dangers. Harvests are plenty, so feasts are a regular occurrence, hosted by the god and open to any nature lover with an empty belly and a tale to tell.

The Great Pass

Creatures who wish to travel from “Ribcage” to “Rigus” on foot must traverse the Great Pass, a bulwark of rugged mountains that mirror the unforgiving gate-towns they border. Choked by dust and volcanic ash, the jagged peaks conceal the lairs of demoted devils and remote camps of soldiers who deserted the infinite conflict on “Acheron”. Their names besmirched, the renegades prey on travelers seeking the pitiless homes the soldiers abandoned.

Gzemnid’s Realm

Tall, spindly mountains rise and curl above the noxious realm of Gzemnid the Gas Giant, the beholder god of deception, fumes, and fog. The offspring of the Great Mother—the eldritch matriarch from which all beholders descend—Gzemnid lurks within a deadly network of smooth tunnels, obscured by toxic clouds and laced with traps and illusions. Beholders prowl the gaseous labyrinth, furthering their god’s duplicitous schemes.

Gzemnid’s Realm is connected to the “Caverns of Thought”. The beholder god enjoys a tenuous alliance with Ilsensine, whose servants and aberrant thoughts haunt the depths of the subterranean maze.

Hidden Realm

After the decline of giants, Annam the All-Father disowned his children and left Ysgard, swearing never to answer the prayers of giants again until they restored their ancient kingdom and reclaimed their rightful place as mighty rulers. The All-Father now dwells in the Outlands, his realm hidden from divination magic and invisible to the naked eye. Though the Hidden Realm’s location is unknown, divine oracles believe the Father of Giants sits in a crystal tower atop an enormous mountain, silently watching over the multiverse and waiting for his children to rouse from their complacency. Some claim a portal to Annam’s fortress lies spireward of the Great Pass.

Labyrinth of Life

Ubtao, Father of Dinosaurs, maintains a divine realm in the Outlands. The Labyrinth of Life is a tangled, meandering jungle where dinosaurs run rampant, including Ubtao himself, who roams his forest maze as a tyrannosaurus rex.

Mausoleum of Chronepsis

The sands of time trickle in the Mausoleum of Chronepsis, a once-great city from the age of dragons that has long fallen to ruin. Here, surrounded by hundreds of hourglasses in a vast cavern beneath the dilapidated city resides Chronepsis, the dragon deity of time and fate. Chronepsis typically manifests as an ancient time dragon (see “Morte’s Planar Parade”), though he sometimes takes the form of a black dragon with iridescent scales. Each hourglass within the dragon god’s realm is said to represent the life of a dragon somewhere in the multiverse.

Chronepsis prefers to be left alone, and he seldom leaves his sanctum. In times of great need, he relies on seasoned adventurers to recover stolen hourglasses, speed the sands of a troublesome wyrm, or travel back in time to mend a past wrongdoing.

Moradin’s Anvil

Hammers ring out in Moradin’s Anvil, a dwarven mining city tucked under the icy mountains spireward of “Glorium”. The realm is divided among three dwarven deities: Dugmaren Brightmantle, god of invention and discovery; Dumathoin, god of exploration and buried secrets; and Vergadain, god of luck and wealth.

Impeccable smiths, the dwarves of Moradin’s Anvil produce some of the best armor and weapons in the Outlands. They regularly trade with the people of Ironridge, a small surface settlement nestled in less perilous peaks near Glorium.

Realm of the Norns

Fates are spun and severed in the Realm of the Norns, a community of seers who divine meaning from mystical signs across the planes. On the horizon looms the sunset-like arch of a phenomenally huge spinning wheel that turns endlessly and can never be reached. Locals gather in a few village-sized hubs, but most keep to themselves in private hermitages, observatories, or other structures from which they ponder fate’s particularities. Many people bearing magical curses also live in the area. While some hunt for ways to end the magic affecting them, most have accepted their conditions and live peacefully.

The region’s best known inhabitants are a trio of fantastically old, fate-weaving witches who go by many names—the Norns, the Graeae, and the Fates among others. These seers are said to be able to see any creature’s past, future, and true purpose with perfect clarity. However, since many of the realm’s residents are aged, reclusive fortune tellers, none know who among them are the actual Norns, if indeed they exist.

River Ma’at

The River Ma’at is a snaking waterway that flows spireward of the gate-towns from “Torch” to “Excelsior”. Boathouses float atop its gentle waters, and gnome-operated paddle steamers chug along the river’s length, ferrying travelers between realms for a few lodestars. Stilt houses rise from the river’s flooded banks, marshy expanses widened by countless tributaries and surges from other planes.

The River Ma’at is a delicate aquatic ecosystem molded by the wondrous creatures that inhabit it. Wild unicorns drink from sparkling streams, sea hags plot in dank river caves, and the river splits into branching sections of rapids near the dens of sleeping hydras.

Semuanya’s Bog

The domain of the lizardfolk deity Semuanya is a challenging paradise for hunters and others who embrace the god’s philosophies of athleticism, survival, and self-improvement. Semuanya’s followers believe in pushing their limits in the face of the most hostile conditions. Semuanya’s realm reflects this: a vast, densely canopied swamp that is colorful, sweet smelling, and full of lethal natural hazards. Along with the servants of Semuanya—who eagerly encourage visitors and one another to strive toward ever-greater goals—all manner of giant Beasts and swamp monsters inhabit the bog. Dangerous plants are also common in the deepest parts of the mire, but among them grow fruits and herbs that can be used to brew some of the rarest elixirs in the Outlands.

The Spire

The spoke at the center of the Great Wheel, the Spire is an infinitely tall pinnacle of rock that towers above the Outlands. Above its highest point hovers the city of Sigil, its streets lining the inside of a floating torus.

Pockets of antimagic radiate from the Spire. Though the gate-towns and most realms in the Outlands are beyond its reach, the Spire’s intermittent magic-dampening effect is enough to bring archmages to their knees and reduce gods to mortals. Still, some creatures eke out an existence near the Spire, and others, such as rilmani, thrive in its shadow, seemingly immune to its nullifying properties.

Thebestys

Outside the gate-towns, Thebestys is one of the largest settlements in the Outlands. Deserts and marshes compete for dominance around the walled city, situated near the banks of the “River Ma’at”. Founded by a god of learning, Thebestys draws sages and scholars with the promise of knowledge, for its library is said to hold the answer to any question one could ask. However, finding answers within the endless repository can prove futile—some creatures die of old age in between its bookshelves only to continue their hunt as petitioners. More often, planar powers of knowledge come to Thebestys to throw down with one another in academic debates, hoping to assert a single truth for all of history.

Vale of the Spine

The bony pillars from which the gate-town of “Ribcage” derives its name stem from the Vale of the Spine, a narrow valley of towering, curved mountains rumored to be the corpse of some ancient titan. Dried-up bones and rusted infernal scrap, eroded by acid rain and hellish temperatures, litter the barren vale. As one moves spireward, the landscape gradually gives way to dusty plains.

Walking Castles

Outlanders are always on the move, and some like to take their strongholds with them. Whether powered by gnomish invention, bestowed on worshipers as godly boons, or animated with powerful magic, walking castles cause wildlife and other travelers to scatter as they tromp across the plane. The mobile fortresses range in size and construction, from sprawling palaces haunted by royal spirits to impregnable aquatic keeps on the shells of grumpy dragon turtles. Coveted by planar raiders, walking castles are capable of defending themselves from would-be conquerors.

Wonderhome

The gears of innovation turn steadily in Wonderhome, a divine workshop belonging to Gond, a god of craft, smithing, and invention. Populated almost entirely by sapient Constructs, Wonderhome is a magnet for inventors seeking sparks of creativity, magical contraptions, or solutions to nagging problems.