Descent into Avernus

(Jeff_L) #1

190


origins, yet everyone knows its power. When properly


entreated by Torimesh, the tree's red bark cracks and


curls like parchment. Pulling it carefully away reveals


a prophetic scene rendered in bloody sap. These arbo-


real visions of the future are often cryptic, yet inevitably


come to pass. As much as the city's elite would love to


harness this power, anyone else attempting to peel the


tree's bark or force a prophecy reveals only bark and


sends Torimesh into a near-murderous rage. For his


part, the druid refuses to work for money, peeling off


prophecies only according to the unspoken whims of the


tree, or in exchange for bizarre and dangerous favors.


jOPALIN'S

After taking over from his father, a neutral evil male


half-elf thug named j opalin transitioned this building


from a seedy dockside tavern to a thriving, upscale


teahouse. Many were shocked by the growth of such a


sophisticated establishment among the port's lowbrow


customers, but no one can deny the addictive nature of


the half-elf proprietor's special blend. jopalin includes


sable moonflower leaves in his tea, creating a subtle,


slow-building addiction among those who drink it. Many


never realize what's happening, knowing only that they


deeply crave his tea above all others. and for those who


do uncover the scam, it's often too late, leaving them


with no choice but to keep coming back.Jopalin person-


ally watches over the customers and ensures that only


those who seem vulnerable get the "special'" tea, avoid-


ing suspicion from any who might decide to fight back if


the truth were to come out.


Jopalin also runs a more traditionally squalid moon-


flower den in the shop's damp basement, catering to


ordinary addicts and those who've become so reliant on


the tea that they can no longer pass as normal custom-


ers. These sad cases are shuffled in through an entrance


in the building next door to avoid suspicion, where a


group of thugs presides over several dozen filthy cots,


collectingjopalin's fees and dispensing his moonfiower


supply. The paranoidjopalin himselflives in a lavish


and heavily booby-trapped loft above the cafe.


Low LANTERN


This old, three-masted ship rocks gently in the water


alongside Stormshore Street Dock on the harbor's east-


ern side. A notorious festhall and tavern, the ship is no


longer seaworthy and is in desperate need of repair.


On warm days and evenings, respectable clients can


sit at tables on the upper deck beneath hanging lanterns,


smoking and drinking between wagers. while a more


raucous crowd congregates around bars and gambling


tables on the decks below.


For more information about this establishment, see


chapter l.


MANDORCAI

(^1) S MANSION


The only blight in otherwise upscale Bloomridge, this


mansion appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the


night, taking over a previously vacant lot. Fully staffed


with close-lipped servants, the imposing manse hosted


a few lavish parties for the Lower City elite, presided


over by an eccentric and brooding human wizard


named Mandorcai. And then, just as suddenly as he had


BALOUR'S CATF. 0A7.ETIE£R

arrived, Mandorcai shut the manor's doors and vanished


from public life. Curious locals who peered through the


windows reported a completely empty manor, its furni-


ture looking as though it hadn't been touched in years.


Yet soon thereafter, individuals around the city began


to receive invitations to visit, written in silver on black


paper folded into pentagons.


Those who entered the mansion for the requested


appointments never emerged. After a handful of such


disappearances, a Flaming Fist squad smashed its way


into the building. Only two of its members emerged, bab-


bling about shifting rooms and blood-soaked abattoirs


filled with writhing hooks and chains. With no laborers


willing to tear the place down, the Council of Four


boarded up the doors but left the mansion standing. For


decades now, no one has been observed going in or out.


Whether the little black invitations that still occasionally


appear on citizens' doorsteps are genuine or harmless


pranks remains anyone's guess.


In truth, Mandorcai gained occult knowledge and his


magical manor in a bargain with the obese twin chain


devils Kyrix and Valisog. For years Mandorcai upheld


his side of the contract by bringing the fiends mortal


sacrifices, until an accidental breach of contract let the


devils haul him screaming into the Nine Hells. Since


then, the mansion's hungry traps and shape-changing


powers have lain dormant. Recently, however, a group of


cultists have broken into the house, seeking to harness


its fell powers. Though they haven't yet figured out how


to commune with the chain devils yet, when they do, it'll


likely be without the safeguards Mandorcai managed to


negotiate, potentially resulting in fiendjsh disaster for


the whole neighborhood.


SEATOWER OF BALDURAN

The headquarters of the Flaming Fist stands on a rocky


islet in the harbor, its sheer walls erupting from the


stone in such a way as to grant invaders from the sea


few footholds. From the fortress's five stout towers,


specially made Gondan trebuchets stand ready to hurl


stones three times the distance of an ordinary siege


weapon, giving the fortress command of not just the


entire harbor but the opposite bank of the river as well.


Any invading ships not intimidated by such death from


above would also have to contend with the massive


chain running from the Seatower to pilings under the


easternmost wharf in Brampton. A capstan in the tower


can raise the chain, stretching it across the harbor


mouth and keeping anything larger than a rowboat


from entering or leaving. As for land-based attacks, the


400-foot-long causeway connecting the Seatower's islet


to che shore needs no gates or drawbridges, as any at-


tackers foolish enough to charge along its length would


be easy marks for the wall's archers.


Roughly a hundred Flaming Fist soldiers occupy the


fortress at any given time, along with the residents of


the Officers' Tower. Jn the central bailey, the organiza-


tion's vast armory holds every weapon a mercenary com-


pany could need, along with trophies from campaigns


abroad, a priceless library of war-related texts, and


more. Rumors also speak of the Fist's treasury, kept in a


lead-lined vault somewhere beneath the Officers' Tower

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