Bleak Generation

Well, I guess my players have the Demonomicon now. If anything bad happens, I have no one to blame but myself. For now, they’re already regretting taking it, and I’m going to enjoy that good feeling while it lasts. I don’t know what practical uses it’ll serve in the campaign. While Kiaransalee erased all knowledge of Orcus from the multiverse, an artefact of the Demonomicon's level should be able to retain the facts of what happened, and that’s why the Demon Prince wanted to keep it hidden. There are few other ways in-game to relay this adventure’s considerable backstory. The illusion of the corridor/forcefield to the void bamboozled the players very well – perhaps too well, because even with two hints from Vlaakith they nearly missed it. I gave 12-Bar inspiration for guessing the “opposite of belief”, and if I hadn’t done that, the party would probably have given up. The slog was not exactly fun. I'd probably just go for a neverending corridor next time, rather than somethi...

With 12-Bar and Ragados watching on, M’narr probed the huge tome with his pallid fingers, teasing out its secrets. The book – the Demonomicon – was easily the most powerful and terrible object they’d ever seen. Probably too powerful. But that wasn’t going to stop them from nicking it, so M’narr put it in the bag of holding. Only slightly worried by their success, their attention turned back to finding the missing prisoner. The throne room was the first port of call. The great black diamond in the throne held no answers, though it nearly held doom for M’narr as he removed and identified it. The Gith dropped the gem just in time to see it crackle and vanish into nothingness, returning to its anonymous creator. The scrying pool still showed a drow and a visage, but was similarly useless. After exploring and exhausting all other rooms, only one chamber remained: the “front door” of Tcian Sumere; the fortress’s gateway to the Endless Void. At the end of this corridor, the shimmering force...