Beneath the cells and barred yards of Saint’s Cudgel prison, below even its darkest, most secret torture pit, lies an unfinished earthen basement that holds a crumbling, ruined well. This fetid ditch is more than just a filthy oubliette—it’s the otyugh hole, the bottomless black, the “O” hole, a fearful legend among those who claim to fear nothing, and its threat can snap even the maddest rabblerouser back into line.
CHAPTER 6
Otyugh Hole
The most feared punishment within a prison, castle, or torturer’s tower, an otyugh hole is a wretched solitaryconfinement pit meant to disgust and break the hardest convict. Any who enter face torments of darkness, silence, and dread, but those who survive this ordeal become underworld legends. Lore: Characters with ranks in Knowledge (local) can research an otyugh hole to learn more about it. When a character succeeds on a skill check, the following lore is revealed, including the information from lower DCs. DC 10: An otyugh hole is a prison cesspit where the foulest prisoners are punished. DC 15: Many forced into otyugh holes go mad, die, or simply disappear. Those who emerge intact are heroes among their fellow felons. DC 20: Some jailers purposely or knowingly allow creatures such as ghouls, slimes, or otyughs access to prisoners thrown into otyugh holes. Description: An otyugh hole is a disgusting, lightless pit about 30 feet deep, usually covered with a rusting metal hatch. Crudely dug to serve its purpose or converted from some other ruined shaft, it reeks with the debris and waste that trickles down from above. No sensory stimuli reach
Scoundrel adventures
flat plain, the peak of a ruined tower, or the depths of a wyvern’s lair, as long as it appeals to Olidammara’s sense of humor. The bard of the gods enjoys watching the drama surrounding his shell play out. He might even appear in disguise to start spreading rumors of the shell’s latest location. For even greater enjoyment, sometimes Olidammara surrounds the shell with magical effects in addition to antimagic field. Spells such as antipathy, blade barrier, fire shield, prismatic wall, and sympathy are favorites of the trickster deity. Ability Value: 1,000 gp.
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Prey
“Don’t look back!” Rolands turned to look, slowing for just an instant. That was enough. A terrible, huge maw with teeth like swords, enough to supply an entire legion, snapped shut. Rolands—or at least, all of him from the knees up—was gone in a warm, wet spray. Keel flinched briefly but didn’t slow, his fear driving him on faster and faster. The ache in his pounding legs grew to a dull burn, but any fire he felt, he knew, would be a thousand times more forgiving than the titanic thing that pursued. The monstrous beast, all claws and scales and massive teeth, made the ground pitch with its furious pursuit. Have to keep running. Have to keep going. Almost there, he chanted to himself, a mantra that became harder to believe with each step. Avoiding thick jungle vines and jumping gnarled roots, he ran on. Behind, he could hear trees crack as they tore from the ground, splintering at the terrible lizard’s passage. Bounding, tumbling, and dodging, Keel sprinted through the dense vegetation. In bursts, he ran even faster at the close sound of snapping teeth and a powerful, too-near buffet of reeking breath. A mighty hiss from up ahead gave Keel a rush of hope. As he broke from the tree line, a black expanse of charred and split earth spread before him. From deep red cracks in the scarred land billowed clouds of thick steam. Long, low sighs issued from the earth as though from something angry breathing below. He had to run even harder now. The thing behind him wasn’t being slowed by the jungle; out here it could move even more swiftly. Faster! His exhausted legs nearly gave way at the very thought, threatening to pitch him into one of the firelit crevasses. His arms beat the air ahead of him as he threw his body forward with each step. He could hear the thunderous footsteps picking up speed, each bringing with it the sound of shattering obsidian.
Ahead he could see a new wisp of steam starting to rise from a wide gap in the uneven rock. Turning slightly, he ran directly for it. The gash grew closer with terrible slowness. You’re not going to make it. You have to make it. Do it. Do it. Do it! His exhausted mind argued with itself. He didn’t even care. It was all instinct now. Ten feet wide? Fifteen feet wide? More? The gap seemed wider as he neared, the steam from within getting thicker and billowing out faster. Too late to run for another one. It was this or the thing’s gut, and Keel wasn’t even sure that he’d get the chance to try his luck. A sizzling hiss rose from the rock ahead, growing louder, more urgent—the sound of something coming to a head. Seeing the broken rim of the gap, partially obscured by steam, Keel threw all his focus into his final steps. Though the hot mist scalded his face, he called on every reserve of will and terror and launched himself into the air above the gap. As he dove for the other side, something slammed against his legs, a shearing snap that rent the sole from his boot and threw him farther. Keel hit the jagged ground, rolling hard over slicing rocks, as the hissing behind exploded into the air. A deafening roar of frustration and terrible pain split the steam like a physical presence as the geyser erupted beneath the snapping titan lizard. Its neck and head scorched by the superheated water, the beast reared back and crashed to the ground. Keel barreled as far from the noise as he could, then collapsed himself, his lungs screaming, his legs useless. He lay there for a long time, ignoring the light spray of hot water. When finally the geyser settled and the steam cleared, Keel rose on his arms and looked back. The massive lizard still lay there, its scaled chest heaving slowly as it breathed its last. Yeah, Keel thought as he tested his legs and awkwardly gained his footing, just like I planned.
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