Nahyndrian Mine

Many of the chambers and rooms within the mine are only partially worked. Sections have been left in their natural state where the existing caverns already serve as useful chambers. As many of the mine’s inhabitants are Large, the scale of the mine is about twice what a human-made
mine would be, with ceiling heights averaging 25 feet. The chambers themselves are well built, with natural stone arches and cunningly engineered support structures, making for an exceptionally stable complex. The doors on the temple level are made of stone, and unless otherwise indicated, cannot be locked.

J1 The foul-smelling river ends at a narrow box canyon, hemmed inon three sides by mile-high cliffs of dark purple stone. A pool of water gathers at the base of a three-hundred-foot-high cascade of water pouring from a crack in the cliff. Just to the east of this cascade yawns a dark cave entrance. This opening is sixty feet wide and eighty feet tall, and looms a full three hundred feet off the ground. A second, narrow waterfall trickles from this cave ledge to fill the pool below as well.

Fulsome Queen

MELAZMERA

The Midnight Isles and Colyphyr

Left Midnight Isles, Right Alushinyra

Lower Right Colyphyr

Vrock, Stock, and Barrel

The Adviser's Fate

Glabrezu

Coloxus

Black Scorpion

Nocticula

City of Alushinyrra

City of Alushinyrra

ALUSHINYRRA, THE PORPHYRY CITY CE metropolis
Corruption +7; Crime +6; Economy +9; Law –3; Lore +4; Society +2
Abyssal Capital, Demonic, Holy Site, Notorious, Planar Metropolis, Prosperous, Danger +40

DEMOGRAPHICS
Government overlord
Population 6,500,000 (5,000,000 demons, tieflings, and halffiends; 1,000,000 humanoids; 500,000 other)
Notable NPC
Nocticula (demon lord of assassins, darkness, and lust)
Shamira (nascent demon lord of dreams and seduction)

MARKETPLACE Base Value 30,400 gp; Purchase Limit 300,000 gp;
Spellcasting 9th Minor Items all available; Medium Items 4d4; Major Items 3d4
     
NOTES
Abyssal Capital Alushinyrra is corrupt, crime-ridden, and especially lawless.
(Corruption +2, Crime +2, Law –8)
Demonic Demons and demonic creatures are the primary denizens of the Porphyry City. (Increase Danger by+20. Demonic characters treat the city’s Danger as 0.

Non-demonic characters can blend in as demons with successful DC 30 Disguise checks. Such disguises may not hold up under individual scrutiny, but while in effect, the party treats the city’s Danger as 0 when rolling for encounter results.)

Governor Shamira

Although dozens of major cities and countless smaller towns can be found on Alinythia, the sprawling metropolis of Alushinyrra dwarfs them all. It covers an entire island at Alinythia’s heart, an urban sprawl of towers, domes, spires, canals, twisting alleys, and maze-like streets. The bulk of
the buildings of this immense city are made of porphyry, from regal purples to deep crimson, with highlights of black and white marble and gray basalt in places. The city’s size usually overwhelms visitors from the Material Plane,
for it’s built on a scale in which only creatures capable of teleportation at will can truly ever feel at home.

By Nocticula’s decree, Alushinyrra is open to all visitors. The Lady in Shadow knows and understands that with a vibrant mercantile economy comes power, and as one of the largest cities in the Abyss, Alushinyrra draws an astounding amount of trade. The city’s greatest export is slaves—the mistresses and trainers of the Porphyry City (named for the city’s reddish-purple appearance) travel the Great Beyond gathering all manner of creatures for those seeking new experiences or specialized attentions from slaves serving as guardians, meals, lovers, or all three. Magical items, rare spells, fine jewelry, and exquisite clothing are also in great supply, but the largest of these secondary markets are Alushinyrra’s burgeoning shipyards.

The city’s canals are thick with ship traffic. Travelers from the Abyssal realms of Malvyrea, Mephism, the Slithering Pools, and Vantian come here daily. Some of the canals flow with the waters of the River Styx, allowing travelers from other planes direct access to certain districts—provided they can navigate the deadly dark waters. Thanadaemons patrol these canals, for Nocticula has arranged these skiff-piloting daemons free access to all of the city’s waterways. They eagerly take her up on her generosity, plying their trade in return for souls, and are constantly on the lookout for escaped prisoners to capture and drain of life. These creatures are the closest thing Alushinyrra has to an organized police force, yet even they avoid venturing below into the city’s multilevel sewers—a
tangled warren of sumps and reservoirs said to connect to the Abyssal Undersump itself. Whispers persist that the demon lord Jubilex maintains a den somewhere in the deepest parts of the city, as do even softer-spoken rumors that Nocticula sometimes visits the odious lord of slime for pleasures better left not imagined.

Demons are the most numerous denizens of Alushinyrra, yet they are far from its only inhabitants. The city swells with millions of their kind, but millions of visitors from throughout the Great Beyond can be found walking the streets or lurking in its alleys. Nocticula has little concern for the fights that often break out in the city, provided no significant damage is dealt to the city itself.

Special note should be made of the city’s two most powerful denizens—Nocticula and Shamira. While Nocticula is the realm’s ruler, she is rarely seen traveling within her realm or her city, and instead spends much of her time within the sprawling expanse of her palace—the House of Silken Shadows—or otherwise tending to her countless plots throughout the Great Beyond. She’s never
more than a breath away from Alushinyrra, and depends on her steward, Shamira, to inform her of any significant developments that requires her direct intervention.

Shamira personally enjoys a special position in the city as its governor, answering only to Nocticula. She is known for her ability to seduce through dream alone, and prefers to maintain an obvious presence in the Porphyry City, proudly and openly walking its streets. Some believe that Shamira maintains her high visibility because she hopes that it will aid her in one day being regarded as the true mistress of Alushinyrra.

                                                                 

Nocticula Demon Lord of Assassins

Orders

“Thank Torag this armor is Mythril…” he muttered to himself for the twelfth time; he sat upon the high-backed chair at the end of the great hall of Citadel Drezen, Scorizscar’s grizzled visage sat mounted above him, a look of eternal surprise taxidermized on its once terrific face; Bryndr’s gauntlet-ed hand lazily rested upon the pommel of Radiance, its adamantine-capped scabbard digging into the marble near his right boot. He had been sitting in this position for roughly six hours, the Dwarves milling about the hall minded themselves with maintenance, and the four Paladins stood vigil over his deliberations were as implacable as he looked, and just as likely as uncomfortable, at least he got to sit down; as he began to thank Torag once more his reverie was cut down a shrill voice: “… in conclusion, it’s simply unconscionable that we should execute every enemy we come across! How are we to bring beauty back to this world if we so casually depopulate it?!”

Ser Julyan - “The Handsome” no less - an Adherent of Shelyn, lately of Taldor, before his distinguished service during the siege of Citadel Drezen, something of a deft blade if Bryndr recal- “FURTHERMORE! My sworn oath! And I quote! “Where my blade passes, a life is cut short and-“

Most of the day-to-day administration and logistics of Citadel Drezen and the surrounding town were compartmentalized, Paladins take to rules fairly well, mostly, and Dwarves by nature are orderly folk; his people kept the wheels turning smoothly, but sometimes a wheel squeaked so loudly and so often that the noise would work its way up the chain until there were no links left, and so here Bryndr sat, listening to an otherwise capable warrior whine about the fact that Truddyg had relieved a surrendering cultist of the back of his skull with the hooked back of a warhammer; what was next? “Horgus and Carbo, again. Even if they aren’t on the docket…” he thought bitterly, beginning to drift out of focus before he realized the Paladin standing before him was still talking despite no clear indication of any inward breath, it was a miracle of Shelyn’s own design, Bryndr was sure.

His left hand raised a command to halt as he interrupted the man, “Julyan, enough. If you can provide us with an even remotely compelling reason to spare an enemy agent the sword or rope, anything at all, even the uncertain hope that they may provide us with a tactical advantage or kernel of strategic knowledge, bring it to our attention immediately. Otherwise, the order stands. Understand me: ‘No Quarter’ is not a suggestion; despite your well-intentioned and assuredly heartfelt rhetoric, this will in no way become open to negotiation. Once the threat is subdued, the orders will be revised, not a moment before.” - “… but… “ – “Julyan, this is the third time we have spoken on the matter. It is also the last. We will not address this again, am I understood?” - a long moment of silence followed before a muffled “Yes.” emerged from beneath Julyan’s pencil-thin mustache.

“Go.” And Julyan went. Bryndr sighed heavily once the man had cleared the hall’s double doors and huffed past the narrow, shaded hall where a long queue was piling up; a thought raced around through his mind – he hadn’t interacted with his half-brother much since the Dwarves arrival, not out of spite, more habit if he was honest with himself, but with the work being done he had precious little time for niceties between the firstborn bastard and the younger heir; that would change going forward, Thorgrim heard the call and came without hesitation, he was owed recognition and thanks, a position or title to exceed “Priest” or “Stonemason” - looking to the paladin on his right, he spoke his orders: “No more petitioners today. Bring me Throgrim Anselme, as soon as possible. I want the items Gundr and I have set aside brought even sooner.”

A little under an hour later, he and his men had loosened their armor’s straps and stretched, he retook his position and waited, Throgrim’s arrival was heralded by the banging of hammers against chisels, and what Bryndr hoped was not an explosion from the newly established Wizard’s tower, in strode an older version of Bryndr the Younger, and a younger version of Bryndr the Elder, the familial resemblance was uncanny - “Scion. How may I serve?” Bryndr hated that title, and Thorgrim knew it.

Clicking his tongue and smiling, Bryndr Bryndrsson motioned to the Ironwood Chest at the foot of his throne-prison - “Dangerous question, Anselme…” he felt the score even as Thorgrim’s jaw visibly clenched and loosened as quickly “… but a good question, nonetheless. You may continue to serve as a mason, a worthy contribution to our cause, to be sure, but I had another role in mind for you, you still remember Uncle Bronn’s lessons on statecraft, Torag’s Ways, and civic management, don’t you?”

“Aye, that I do.”  Thorgrim rumbled, taking in the container with a raised eyebrow.

“Good…” Bryndr stood, half-kicked open the chest and turned it around, revealing a king’s ransom in arms, armor, and enchantment, before Throgrim could comment, he continued: “… then I would do you the greatest wrong and most grievous harm I have ever done a blood relative: You may serve, Anselme, as Castellan of the Citadel, and Seneschal of Drezen, to arbitrate in my stead, to uphold the Law of this bastion, and see to its administration, maintenance, and protection of its people. And you may take the office immediately, should you choose to.”

Silence fell over the hall as the various comers and goers ogled the mithril and steel trove, it was broken by Thorgrim’s even tone “The protection of the people of the Citadel? All of them? Even Horgus Gwerm?” – “Yes. Even Gwerm.” – “I protest that particular point.” – “Noted, protest if you must, but you will keep that man safe, even from himself – if he wasn’t standing between the Knucklebreak Clan’s new Mill and the Stoutbrew’s new Feast Hall – it would be me mediating their grain dispute; for that alone, he’s valuable.”

Thorgrim chewed the end of his beard for a long while, his eyes wandering from his younger kin, the chest between them, the grim remains of the Woundwyrm, still perplexed as it was in its final moments.

“I may take office immediately?” he finally asked.

“On one condition…”

Some ten minutes later garbed in his new raiment, Thorgrim stood before Bryndr Bryndrsson, adjusted the laurel wrath on his head for a final time, and looked his half-brother directly in the eyes, and speaking with a clarion voice that echoed the hall, he said “Bryndr, Lord of Drezen, I accept your offer; I take up the burden and privilege of the administration of this Citadel and the protection of all good folk who inhabit it. You are relieved until such a time as you choose to return to your seat.” Bryndr stood slowly, walked down the handful of steps, and stood aside, allowing Thorgrim to ascend and take his seat.

Settling in, Thorgrim took stock of his guards, the work going on about him, and finally, Bryndr. With a wave of his hand, Thorgrim spoke the first order of his new command: ‘Go.” And Bryndr went.

The Worm that Walks, no more

That my foot steps led to Iomedae,
Iomedae already accepting me as Her own.
That my foot steps led to Arueshalae,
Arueshalae who pulls me from certain demise.
That my foot steps led to Bryndrsson,
Bryndrsson's craftsmanship that has become Dawnbringer.

The Gods have been hard at work, a spark has been struck and the fire rages. The Awakening Light will be a beacon to those that embrace the righteous path. The path that Arueshalae had placed for us led through horrors, abominations, when we were at our darkest we had to shine with all our might to forge ahead. With the guidance of Arueshalae, the divine craftsmanship, the company of true heroes gathered, we were able to track and end The Worm that Walks. In that moment, a fire inside my essence roared to life...since that glorious instant, my hands and back have begun to glow with the radiance present in my wings. I feel...so much more...alive...however, no longer can I discern where my body ends and Dawnbringer begins.

An Archmage's thoughts

Such treasures. Such battles. Such victories.
In retrospect, it seemed as if all their battles since the recovery of the citadel uncovered and dismantled chinks in the armor of the Worm that Walked. Each victory the heroes attained was like an axe biting a chunk of wood from the bottom of a great tree, until they finally cornered him and, with a final push, toppled him. Sure, there was more to do, there will always be more to do, but this humble wizard felt a sense of completeness

Firstly, he felt a pulse deep in his heart. That pulse came with additional mythic grace, even deeper understanding of the divine relationship between mortals, gods, and magic. This mythic step was set apart from his previous four steps of ascension in a significant way; this time he clearly identified the presence of three pairs of hands supporting his ever-broadening shoulders. Torag, Saranrae, and Iomedae all smiled upon him and the dwarf mortal gladly accepted the divine love of all three.

Also, secondly, his mind instantly formed a key and unlocked a new tier of arcane secrets - the planes. He could now travel, with a small number of companions, to the heavens, to the hells, or anywhere between the two. He could, he suddenly thought, travel to the great hall where the celestial hound archons known as the Goden Order of Charlabu make their homes. He smiled warmly at the thought of visiting the home of his blood's pact-mates. He wondered if any of his kin had done this before.

Thirdly, he had found the proverbial trove of a lifetime, filled almost exclusively with treasures of arcane wonder. A bag of holding filled with spell books!! A second blessed book to accompany the one he was already endeavoring to fill. Metamagic rods, a flying carpet, even an instant fortress! A library of dark secrets that would surely yield valuable information to aid in their fight against the abyss, and a new fortress they could claim were no minor acquisitions in themselves.



It would take time to catalog and quantify everything. But for the first time since his cousin pulled out of that damn prison cell, he had time. They all had time. His thoughts turned to his Ring, his arcane bond, his strength against the lies of this mortal world. It had been part of him longer than anything else, and he wondered if it had the potential of focusing his enhanced power like it did his magic. He also contemplated the expanding territories they were claiming. They needed more settlers, more people of skill and talent to take advantage of the wealth and discoveries they had recovered. He then sat at a great table, and happily began counting platinum coins by stacks of 20.