The Ninth Processional Stair

The Processional Way comes to an abrupt end on the ninth level of the Tomb; a large, vaulted chamber, built in some bygone age by forces unknown, with the Way running through it, into an alcove, and ending there in the wall.

Only in the shadowy counterpart of the Tomb does the Way continue, the alcove becoming the top of the Ninth Stair; the light reflection that bears the most resemblance to the world above meets a wall here, though adventurers who dare to travel below may traverse back into the light.

Little distinguishes this passage from the patches of the Road which have been moved and turned into dead branches, unless one is in the know. On royal processions, only the elite of the procession, the kind who rub elbows with royalty in their day-to-day lives, would reach this far. Perhaps one of the caretakers above might know how to know when one has found the right way, or perhaps the one who did has long since abandoned her vows and left the Tomb. The highest of the clergy, of course, would be prepared to guide a mourning procession this way. Rumors abound, of course. One need not, necessarily, even look to the living for a guide. The stair exerts a pull on the ghosts around it, though a ghostly guide might vanish forever, drawn first into the shadow world and then down the stair, if they leave their living companions’ torchlight.

Around the top of the Stair are the dead, and furnishings to hold them and to honor them, rimed in frost. In places, frozen puddles in the ground with spikes rising almost like grass; a few of the dead left exposed have this grass growing from their bodies.

The Orrery Chime

The Processional Way once ran through the cavern of the Orrery Chime, but it has not for centuries. The chime itself hangs from the ceiling, a central sphere made of polished bronze surrounded by a dozen smaller spheres of silver and glass, each on a small arm that brings the outer orbs in circles, each at a different pace. A bronze ring surrounds it, slowly turning, symbols for the directions of the zodiac engraved through it, a golden bead running a circle along its inside edge. Above the ring is a circle of bells of different sizes, twenty-four in all.

As it turns, the bells ring, chiming out conjunctions and other events, or on their own mysterious rhythms. The outer bead circles over the course of a year, and is almost accurate for the position of the sun on the zodiac (a few degrees off at most). The lesser orbs surrounding the center circle it in times ranging from a day and a half to three months.

One of the bells with the more mysterious rhythms is the darkening chime, an enormous hanging cylinder of silver. Its sound is thunderous in this cavern, and lays commands to lights present to burn themselves out at once in a bright flash. The effect is extremely disorienting. Torches doused by it will not relight. It usually chimes more than once at a time; if it chimes more than three times, those waiting above will be brought to it.

One of the planets is missing. If it could be restored, the light commanded by the Chime will instead gather in a lantern-like formation above it, shining down and leaving in the orrery’s shadow on the ground the arrangement of the depicted planets.

A few structures have been built in this cavern. Most of them served some magical need or another in the past, and then were allowed to fall into ruin after the need passed. One, however, is maintained by ghosts, on occasion: a small memorial shrine. A relief of a flayed figure, tied to a stake upside-down, is carved into the wall behind it. It was here, centuries ago, that a revolt finally ended the practice of using human sacrifices to ensure that a royal procession’s passage to the Gate was safe. The rebels paid a terrible price for it; the flayed figure had been their leader, caught and punished by the successor of the prince they killed.

The Wyrm’s Tomb

Inside an ice monolith can be seen the form of a wyrm. Much of the ice is cloudy, and it is hard to make out what could be the creature’s feathers or fur, in white and deep green, or its many legs. The only patch of clarity in the ice shows its eye, a deep blue orb with no discernable whites or iris, with a black slit pupil. Staring into this eye brings the starer under the beings magical influence.

The wyrm is not entirely asleep, nor is it entirely awake. They can communicate through a very limited telepathy with those they have taken. They hunger, though it can be fed through ritual offerings. In times past, they would hypnotize a few ghosts that wandered into their den, make them serve them for a time, then allow them to move on. Now, their influence is far greater, as the ghosts do not move on.

A few pine trees grow in the caves around the prison, a garden tended by the hypnotized. This and the feeding ritual are why the creature’s jailers do not prevent them from using their mental power; they are permitted to tend a garden, and to slake their hunger, but not to conspire against their enemies or to plot an escape. They do so anyway.

In a past age, a trio of gods from the Final, Storm, and Sun courts put this wyrm in this prison, along with an entourage of mortal heroes. Adventurers might be placed under a subtle influence, demanding that they act against the gods who bound the Wyrm. Or the Wyrm might ask that secret rituals be addressed to its allies on the Courts, reminding them of favors owed and debts unpaid. Or monuments to those heroes might be desecrated (in one case, a kingdom yet bears the name of the empire carved by the hero in question, and so counts as a monument).

Sometimes, one might even seek out its influence and hope to resist the hypnotism, suggestion, and compulsion it can lay. It knows a great many secrets that could tempt even the wisest of wizards. The strong-willed might be able to bargain with it, a favor for a secret.

The Wyrm breaking free is a sign that the current age of the world is coming to a close, and a new one is beginning. Perhaps, with its jailer’s Court distracted, it may take the opportunity to escape.

The Roving Lanterns

Occasionally, a mourner or adventurer on the ninth level of the Tomb will catch a glimpse of pale blue lantern-light in the dark, or perhaps through one of the ice walls that partition some of the caverns on the level. These are the Roving Lanterns, one of the mysteries of the Tomb. Sometimes, they can even be approached or followed, leaving behind a trail of snow.

In rare encounters where they are seen up close, they are clearly artifice, like boxy lanterns, framed in black iron with cloudy ice panes hiding a pale blue flame. They do not appear to have been crafted in any tradition of the known world, and no sign nor record of who made them or why exists, nor do they answer questions.

They are not aggressive; they conduct their mysterious business floating through the Tomb, hanging it midair and gliding as if hanging from an unseen cart. If attacked, their icy panes are the first part to go when damaged, and the flame inside spills out. It appears as a fire, and catches like one, but it burns cold, causing frostbite and freezing anything wet to anything else it touches. Frost forming on the flames eventually puts them out; they can also be put out with water or steam (liquid water will freeze solid enough to bind the victim unless it can be broken, whether by another or by their own strength), or by rolling in the usual way.

A lantern that has been attacked can also cause any sound around it to echo back louder. Though few things wander this level, anything seeking prey, treasure, or magic will likely be drawn to the sound (and one on a rare excursion to another level would doubtless draw other hazards).

One theory of their existence is that they are eyes through which something that hibernates in the ice can be aware of goings-on in the Tomb. Some wizards claim that they are a gift brought over from one of the lesser moons, which chase and circle and are often eclipsed by the Storm Moon and, when not eclipsed, range in size from points like stars to the size of coins at arms’ length. Some claim to have even asked the goddess of the Labyrinth about this, or heard from someone who has; none of them can agree which of the lesser moons it is. The theory, though, is as likely as any.

The Double Mirror

A smooth ice-sheet wall, like a waterfall frozen in mid-flow, hangs in one of the caverns off the Ghostrime Road. It is so smooth that a clear reflection can be seen in it; it is also transparent enough that a faint outline of the dark cavern beyond can be seen, especially if the light sources are arranged right.

If the mirror is touched with bare hands, it will feel like flesh, as if touching one’s reflection’s hand; touch it with a tool or even a glove, and it will be like normal ice (and can be scratched or chipped; such marks ruin any reflection and make it icy to the touch). Any damage to it, even breaking through (it can be broken easily with a hammer, mace, or similar tool; even a staff can manage), will be gone within a month, restored to its original smooth surface.

However, breaking the mirror is not the only way to pass through it. If one touches it while invisible, they will be able to step through. This portal leads to a remote corner of the level, in a similar cavern that is part of a small, isolated pocket. An exit via a dimensional shift is available, though this natural portal only works when leaving. Additionally, a powerful spirit of ice, the sovereign of a far-off glacier, has a secret shrine here, where an enormous treasure of gold given to it in offerings can be found. Though this shrine is only used when on business with the other gods here, it remains potent, and even in its hibernation the spirit can project here, perhaps to grant a powerful magical boon to a discoverer (a permanent ability score increase, perhaps, or resistance to cold, or even a spell-like ability).

The Lantern Labyrinth

An enormous, squat icy pillar runs top to bottom in an even more vast cavern, lit from within with a yellow glow that shows even through the layers of ice. Four tunnels, which look to be worm-tunnels almost except bored through ice, enter into the side, each leading into a labyrinth.

The smooth ice, reflective and translucent, gives a disorienting effect to those attempting to navigate the labyrinth; without some means of negating that effect, one will inevitably blunder out again. Only by finding a way to navigate without relying on sight, or by banishing the reflections and transparencies from one’s view, or by anchoring one’s navigation to fixed points outside of the column, can one attempt to solve the maze. If a party douses their own lights and still wanders out, they will find themselves in the shadowy counterpart (similarly, wandering in with lights lit and wandering out will return them to the light).

The labyrinth climbs upward toward the center, until one reaches the banquet hall. The Hearthmistress, a courtier of the Final Court with four spindly arms and wide tan moth-wings, keeps her post here. Originally, she hosted meetings with the gods of the Storm and Sun courts, and with even stranger creatures, for the other members of the Final Court to conduct their diplomacy. For this, she was locked on this side when the Gate was sealed.

Mortals and ghosts sometimes visited, then as now (though the Withering Eye and her coven do not); eating here provides some protection against the soul-draining effects of the Tomb, but not the cold of this level, until one’s next meal. Sometimes, she even provides the food, or a fire to cook on, or even seasonings unheard-of by mortals with their own magic to them. Those who visit are advised not to discuss the Absent Prince with her; the void among the leaders of the Final Court is a sore spot. Catching her in good humor and being good guests, though, might leave a visitor changed for the better

The light here comes from a lantern which was gifted to her by a visitor, and hangs above the banquet hall. It devours the smoke from any cooking fires lit here (there is no connection here to Cinder Hill), and may have a mind of its own. It shines brightly, in a slightly blue-green tinged white, like the light of another sun. Perhaps, if one has something she desires, she will tell the secret of who it was a gift from.

The Ghostrime Road

The portion of the Processional Way between the Eighth and Ninth Stairs is known as the Ghostrime Road. It is rough-hewn and quickly built, where it isn’t simply brought into shape by magic. The Stone-Herders who serve the Final Court must keep the way open for ghosts to march inexorably toward the Gate, but they have no care whether it is or isn’t passable by the living, and so the areas left entirely to their work are as rough as any natural cave; even “flat” areas one can still have to use the whole length of one’s leg to step up out of a pit or onto a boulder.

A chill hangs in the air along this stretch of road, the principal hazard for mourners visiting this section of the Tomb. Frost can be found on almost every surface. It would be a mistake, however, to assume that the cold only conducts itself by air; the intrinsic cold of the space one’s bones occupy will chill them through any amount of intervening flesh and clothing.

Despite being closed, the Gate still calls to the souls of those near it, and here, it is close enough that the call is not unlike energy drain, albeit weak. For a typical game, one chance in six every hour of applying a level of energy drain is an accurate model. This energy drain can be reversed immediately by direct sunlight, though if any has been incurred deeper down, the whole damage may be harder to reverse. Similarly, the progressive effects of extreme cold should be applied (appropriate to the ruleset used). If one has no tools but HP damage, 1d6 HP cold damage applied every hour is appropriate for a character in cold weather gear, simply 6 per hour for a character without it (just because the supernatural cold can reach through your body doesn’t mean that it won’t also take the opportunity to freeze you through the cold air). The fumes from the previous level, however, are not present here.

Because of the cold and deathly effects of proximity to the Gate, little work can be done on the Processional Way here. In some cases, rapidly-rotated teams of workers have carved flat pathways and filled in gravel. In others, wood planks are laid one by one until something not entirely inappropriate for a king’s funeral is made. In still others, mud has been poured and sculpted into shape before freezing into a solid block. The cold makes these simple construction methods last far longer than they should. Particularly challenging areas might have seen a wizard bring a spell to these depths to pave a way, or call in a favor to get the Stone-Herders to care. The Stone-Herders don’t move against this road deliberately, but neither do they protect it, nor do they consider the effect on the constructed road a reason to delay a needed movement of the rocks. Thus sections of road that connect to nowhere, and old stretches of the Way that no longer go through, can be found throughout the cavern complex.

Many rituals exist to protect from the soul-drawing effect of the Gate. The simplest is the protection of a ghostly ally and guide. Simply having a ghost accompany you through the Tomb and offer protection can buffer against one level of energy drain per visit. Ghosts must be willing, coerced, or deceived into offering this protection, typically (perhaps those from the constructed Knight would disagree). A ghost who helps in such a way, however, can only remain on the same level or go deeper into the Tomb; they cannot ascend to a previous level (most ghosts already cannot). Thus a frequent visitor to levels beyond this one must have a ready source of guides. A stronger form of this ritual was the purpose for which the Chained Guide was allowed to suffocate. Perhaps, also, someone who knows the secret rituals used by royal funerals can tell what keeps their mourners safe; if such rituals can be turned to the benefit of adventurers, they would be a great aid in exploring the lower depths of the Tomb.

Still, for those without the benefit of those rituals, deaths abound. Those interred on this level, deliberately or because they died in accidents, are preserved until something comes along to defile their graves. Workers who died in the construction of the processional way are arranged into tidy graves, not too near the Way (lest a new-crowned queen think her father’s funeral procession marches through a peasant graveyard) nor too far away (lest the gravediggers themselves succumb). Broken tools, too, were often abandoned rather than allowed to become dead weight for a worker fleeing the place before succumbing; place them in a way that the procession’s lanterns won’t shine on them, and they are out of mind. While common hammers, chisels, buckets and spikes make up the bulk of this. in one case an elaborate wheelbarrow made of bronze (to better resist the corrosion of the level above, compared to iron), with a vessel for burning coals slung below it (to keep the mud it contained from freezing) was simply abandoned for a broken wheel, and now lies for the taking.

The Fallen Fools

An insular cult made up of ghosts gathers on the eighth level of the Tomb. Though they mistrust the living, they nonetheless will treat visitors hospitably, providing wine and even selling rope and new clothes, though in the choking fumes, their hospitality very quickly becomes a mire.

Their members are easily recognizable, both because they rarely leave the few crypts and caverns that they’ve made their cloister and because of their white robes and dresses, which resemble burial shrouds.

The cult’s doctrine only applies to the dead, and only the dead may join. They do not attempt to recruit through brute violence, though they will try to ply visitors with wine, and if a drunken mortal cannot escape the fumes on the level before their breath gives out, then a ghost’s renunciation of the follies of life is a joyous happening. Other than when toasting a living visitor, they do not drink; wine is one of the many mortal follies that they have abandoned.

They attribute the closing of the Gate not simply as an act of a few adventurers, acting on their own, but as a cosmic punishment. People have fallen from the ways of righteousness and wisdom that were laid out for them, the clear and obvious truth that even the gods are bound to adhere to, and as punishment for their folly, they have been denied a peaceful death; the ghosts trapped in the Tomb now are only the first afflicted.

Vaywyn, the cult leader, is a short woman with long salt-and-pepper hair, her back as yet unbowed by age, who has the rapt devotion of those around her. She will carry on long debates about theology with drunk guests; her knowledge is broad but somewhat shallow, and she has a quick mind and a willingness to invent what she does not know. Cult members will not make large trades with outsiders without her agreement; even answering questions about the lay of the Tomb (the cult’s knowledge is extensive for this level and the next) requires her agreement.

Visitors will also often deal with Mivvie, the tailor, who makes the cult’s clothes and also an extensive array of fine rope; spider silk from the upper levels is particularly useful to her, an old master who regained her dexterity as a ghost. They might also deal with Hinnam, the wine-keeper, who was a soldier in life.

The Mourner’s Fountain

From a distance, this dry fountain’s basin appears to hold a still pool of water. In truth, though, that water is a mirage created by a ghostly power.

After the closing of the Gate, the Stone-Herder who rules the rocks of this level decided that it was fitting to move the fountain. In doing so, an enchantment came undone on the fountain, and it must be restored before water will flow through it again. In the lighted world, the fountain is dry, but holds a mirage that vanishes when it is looked at closely or under direct light. In the shadow reflection, a trickle of water slowly fills it to the brim from an unseen source, but the water is still and thick with poisonous dust that must be strained out. Even then, it is sour and unpleasant to the taste.

A ghost by the name of Tisa can sometimes be seen at the fountain. The mirage water is in fact her tears. She sits here and cries; with a poor or even average reaction roll, she is inconsolable; with a good roll, she might offer why she weeps if asked. Women who have worked as servants (maids, laundresses, etc.) have a bonus to the roll; nobles and in particular noble men (but not working men) have a penalty.

She met her brother earlier in the Tomb, one of the many war-dead soldiers in this place. He all but refused to speak with her. She had been disowned from her wealthy merchant family before the outbreak of the war because her father had accused her of stealing from him and running off to be with her lover. In fact, she had been spending only her then-lover’s money. After she received the letter disowning her she worked in her lover’s house as a laundress, but the difficulties of the war and the duties of court were too much for her lover to sustain a romance with a mere laundress and she left her. Worse, her lover’s cousin (a duke) and her own (her father’s sister had married a viscount) were at odds. Her missing her cousin’s wedding and spending that time at a market festival with her lover (one of her father’s captains had taken her for an impostor and refused to admit her on the ship) was the last straw. She still has the letter where she was told she was disowned. She will likely revert to simply crying, rather than speaking, before sharing the letter with someone new. She also has little memory over multiple encounters.

She is in the way of using the necessary magic to get the fountain to flow again. Once she is consoled and her business is resolved, she will stop crying and the fountain can be restored if the proper rites are done. Depending on the scale of the dungeon this may be as simple as introducing fresh water into the fountain once more (a waterskin’s worth should suffice), or a complicated fetch quest to other parts of the level and the level below. On future excursions the fountain water, in both reflections, will run clean, clear, and plentiful, allowing adventurers to use it to restock their own supply.

The Wisps’ Pyre

While the old holding of the magma wisp clans on the fume-choked level of the Tomb is stalked by a monster, many of the wisps have fled to a new refuge, in a cavern on the far edge of the Tomb. There they burn a massive bonfire, to make the chill of the common stone of the cavern slightly more bearable for them, though this pyre may only be the equivalent of a candleflame in weather cold enough to freeze hard liquor to them. Perhaps the symbolism is more important than the actual power.

The wisps have grown desperate. Normally isolationist, living on an immortal’s timescale these wisps move aggressively to keep their bonfire burning. They fuel it with whatever they can find, using spells to create echoes of the items they burn to extend the length of the flame. Sometimes, this is rocks. Other times, they barter with goblins in the heights at the top of the chasm to have wood thrown down (for they cannot handle it themselves without burning it), and then with ghosts threatened into service to carry it and hurl it into the flame. Embers from the Ashen Heart also sit on the bonfire, though they do little good.

Bodies in the graves around them are few and far between, now, the majority having been cast into the flames. Ghosts, too, get thrown into the flame, to discorporate in agony and reform and be thrown in again if they can be caught.

The Wisps use their magic to melt a shaft into the side of the rocks, upward and away, hoping to breach the mountainside for the surface and let lava flow down onto it, so that they can in turn draw on the great supply of wood available there. This would doubtless be disastrous.

Their kin, left behind at the treasury, resent the reprisals that their actions invite; it is debated among them whether leaving was cowardice or necessary sense to escape an inescapable doom. A wedge could be driven between them, and for all their desperation, this group is the stronger one.