This natural chamber contains several wide, shallow pits. Perhaps 1ft deep and between 6 and 15ft across. Each pit holds several eggs of brilliant, sparkling gold. Each egg has a beautiful swirling pattern, and some even have speckles which appear to be tiny pearls. The beauty of these artifacts is all the more profound because they do not appear to be a work of craft, but a work of nature. The intricate details of each entirely unique egg could be studied for hours.
The empty space in each pit is filled with a dark, foul-smelling mash of organic material. This is packed around the eggs, holding them upright. No egg is closer than 1ft from any edge of the pit, or any other egg in the pit. It is a simple matter to identify the mash as the rotting meat of dead creature. Anyone with basic knowledge of nature will be able to deduce that this was probably done to insulate the eggs before they hatch, and provide food for whatever young emerge from them after. A close, detailed inspection of the mash will reveal that while most of it is of unrecognizable origin, there are several distinct humanoid parts included in the mash, such as fingers.
Also within this room are several small alcoves. The entrances to these alcoves are placed above eye level, between 7 and 10 feet off the ground. They are small, and well hidden amongst the natural flow of the stone walls. They will not be noticed unless the players specifically declare that they are looking at higher areas of the cavern wall with their torches. Simply walking the perimeter of the room would be insufficient.
Within these alcoves rest the parents of the eggs. Between 3 and 8 of them. The specific manner of this creature is left to GM discretion, as this is not a Merciless Monsters post. However, for my purposes, I chose a special breed of giant spider with the following attributes in addition to the basic ones:
Spins web which is razor sharp, rather than sticky. It prefers to consume chunks of bleeding meat, rather than drain its victim’s innards.
Mandibles which become superheated and can easily smelt metal or stone. This is both how it escapes from a golden egg in its youth, and how it creates this specific environment from sheer stone when it is time to mate.
Preys particularly on humanoid species.
Evolved eggs which avaricious humans would find too tempting not to try and steal.
Whatever creature is used, some sign of its presence should exist. Perhaps tangled strands of razorweb bunched up at the door, which a perceptive player might notice glinting in the torchlight.
While characters are distracted by the eggs, the creatures will move in to kill them. In the example of the razorweb spiders, they will spin a web across the cavern’s only exit, causing anyone who leaves to fall into bloody chunks. If the players set a watch while examining the eggs, that watch should notice the spider’s efforts and alert the rest of the party. Unless this or other precautions are taken, however, it is likely that at least one player will die here. Bear that in mind before making use of this room.
The room is simple, largely conforming to the architectural style and level of dilapidation of the surrounding rooms. It is good if this room can be placed adjacent to a dining hall or kitchen, as when the dungeon was active, this room produced a drink which (for some reason) was favored by the lord or lady of the place.
It is dominated by a large pit in the floor, 5ft deep, filled with a swirling, bubbling, steaming liquid of a faintly brown color. On the wall of the room is a large rack covered in pegs, and from many of the pegs hang wooden mugs with a copper inlay. The mugs themselves are essentially worthless, being worth ~3cp each, for a total of 20-60 cups in all. The liquid in the floor both smells, and tastes, like a mild tea. If any one drinks it, they are affected by one of the following, determined by rolling 1d12. All effects are permanent, unless noted otherwise.
The liquid is poisonous to your body. Roll a save v. poison, or a fortitude save DC 15. Failure causes death.
A -1 to a random ability score. Use 1d6 to determine.
Spend 10 minutes vomiting and shaking violently.
Burn the roof of your mouth really, really badly.
Antlers sprout from your head.
Tiny, inefficient wings sprout from your back. They might be of *some* use keeping cool or jumping an extra 3-4 inches, but that’s about it.
Skin turns orange.
Feel pretty good about yourself for the rest of the day.
A scorpion stinger grows in your mouth. It is not harmful to you, nor does it interfere with normal tasks. It can be used to sting anything you put your mouth on, delivering a poison which deals 1d6 CON damage per turn, for 3 turns.
+20 to your strength for 1 hour.
A +1 to a random ability score. Use 1d6 to determine.
+1 level.
Players may continue to drink from the pit as many times as they like. Effects will stack with each other, and any effect rolled twice for the same character should be properly “enhanced” according to GM discretion. However, once a character has rolled a 9 or higher, their body will have adapted to the effects of the brew. From then on, regardless of the mixture they create (see below), or what they roll, no magical effect will occur. The drink is still quite tasty, though. They’ll find they enjoy it even more than before.
Adjacent to this room is a room filled with barrels. These barrels each contain a mixture which, when combined with the tea-water in the previous room, will slightly alter the random roll. If a barrel is completely dumped into the tea-water pit, then the additive will become inert after 10 minutes. If any two of these are mixed together, then their numerical bonuses or penalties will average. Orange spiral overrides anything it is mixed with. If any of these are consumed without being combined with the tea water, it tastes so awful the players will reflexively spit it out. Forced consumption causes death.
The symbols on the barrels, and their effects, are:
Blue Square. Smells like meat-juice. -4 to the random roll.
Purple Triangle. Smells like a bowl of raw egg. -2 to the random roll.
Red circle. Smells like beets. +2 to the random roll.
Black “X.” Smells like coffee. +4 to the random roll.
Orange Spiral. Smells almost sickeningly sweet. The random roll is replaced by a 1d6 roll to determine the player’s skin color: 1. Bright Red, 2. Blue, 3. Green, 4. Purple, 5. Orange, 6. Transparent. This effect functions even after the player has become immune to the tea-water’s other effects.
The above room appears in the megadungeon my players are currently exploring, Castle Nalew. They discovered it yesterday, and I think we probably spent an hour or more there. They tried every concoction they could think of, and much of the above information is stuff I had to improvise when they asked questions I wasn’t prepared for. Other information I had to improvise was: what happens when you become transparent twice, and what happens when you feed the liquid to a green ooze?
I could write a rather lengthy post about how much fun we had with this, but much of it would probably come across as “you had to be there” humor. However there is one story which is so impossibly perfect, I could not resist sharing it.
The very first character to dare drinking from the tea was the party’s monk. He rolled a seven, meaning his skin turned orange. Later, when they discovered the barrels in the next room, the monk was the first to try the orange spiral concoction, rolled a 5, making him orange a second time. I said that while he had been “Trump Orange,” he was now a wholly inhuman neon orange. After popping around to a few different colors, he again hit orange twice in a row, causing him to actually begin to glow orange with the strength of several candles.
The character’s name?
“Karrot.”
Sometimes the dice are the best comedians at the table.
The floor of this room was apparently a single, smooth concrete surface at one time. Time has apparently not been kind to it, however, as a spiderwebbing network of cracks now cover the floor. Aside from any exits, the only notable feature of the room is a statue of a woman in the center. If the players are positioned such that they can see the statue’s face, each character will recognize it as a statue of their own mother. Any character who never knew their mother will see merely a blank face on the statue. Powerful illusory magic emanates from the statue.
Note that while describing the room, the GM should specify that the cracks are “spiderwebbing” in the manner written above. The GM should attempt to say this merely as part of the description, and only if the players choose to examine the cracks more closely should they be told that the pattern of the cracks does indeed vaguely resemble a spiderweb.
If a player specifies that their character will avoid stepping on the cracks, this can be accomplished easily; though the character’s speed will be reduced by half due to their caution. If a character declares they will move through the room without specifying that they would like to avoid the cracks, roll a 6 sided die. If the die lands on 1-4, then the character has stepped on one of the cracks and their foot immediately becomes stuck. If they are wearing light shoes or no shoes, they will also feel that their foot is not only ‘stuck’ on the bottom, but in fact being held by something wrapped so tightly around their foot that they cannot move it from the floor.
When a player becomes stuck, two things will happen immediately. First, that player will see the statue of their mother crack in half just above the waist, and the top half will fall to the floor. Other players will not see the statue crack, however, they will see a duplicate of the statue’s top half (bearing the face of the relevant player’s mother) separate itself from the actual statue, and fall to the floor. The standing statue other players see will continue to bear their own mother’s face.
Second, thousands of tiny green spiders erupt from the cracks all over the room. They will immediately descend on the trapped character, crawling all over them, and wrapping tiny green webs around their victim’s body in an attempt to cocoon the trapped character. The spiders are so numerous that no mundane attempt to stop them (such as stomping them or brushing them away) will be effective. More dramatic means (such as a wind blast or fireball) will work. It takes approximately 1 turn (10 minutes) for the spiders to entirely cocoon their prey.
If at any point the players cast See Invisibility, or use a spell which has a similar effect, they will be able to see a strange green sludge in the cracks. It gesticulates independently of outside forces, and is piled up around the foot of any player who is trapped. It is clearly a living ooze of some type. If they are able to see this ooze, the players will also notice that the spiders are apparently made of the same substance, and freely separate and merge with it. Once a player is completely wrapped in the cocoon, the sludge will drag them to the ground, and begin to pile itself over the player. A player in this condition will be given room to breathe as the beast prefers live prey, but will be devoured within 3 turns time.
The ooze creature is impervious to most mundane forms of attack, however it is vulnerable to fire, ice, electricity, and salt. Any of these in sufficient quantity will kill the creature, but only a small amount (such as the fire from a torch, the cold from an ice cube, or a small amount of salt for food flavoring) should be enough to free a trapped character.
This is a simple room, but one which kept my own players puzzled for some time.
At the end of the hallway, the players pass through a simple opening into a circular room. The room has a stone floor, and walls of bronze which gently curve inward at the ceiling, rising to a point in the center. The walls may be engraved or otherwise adorned, but the room itself is empty. If the players decide that this is merely a dead end, it is important that they be able to go back through the dungeon and take an alternative route.
If the players choose to tap the walls, they will find most of them to be solid. However, there are definite hollow areas which echo when tapped. Closely examining the floor where the ceiling meets the wall will reveal that the bronze walls are fitted into a groove in the floor which extends all the way around the room. This groove is most obvious where the players entered the room. However, given the generally poor condition of the floor, characters will not notice this groove unless they pay special attention to that doorway.
In fact, the bronze cone has special ball bearings beneath it, and can be turned freely. It is heavy, But a concerted effort from a strong character, or two characters with strength 10+, is sufficient to slowly turn the room at a speed of 1/4 rotation per game turn (10 minutes). More characters working together will be able to turn the walls proportionally faster. As the wall turns, the opening moves, revealing previously hidden passages behind the bronze wall.
The danger, of course, is that by turning the cone the players are cutting off their means of escape back through the dungeon. Unless they have enough people to turn the bronze cone very quickly, they will be forced to face any dangers they reveal.
The chamber is arranged as a royal dining hall. The head table is atop a platform 3 steps higher than the rest of the room. The two lower tables are perpendicular to it on either side. The three tables form a squared “U” shape, with the opening towards the room’s entrance. Each table has several finely crafted seats along the outside edge, and while the surfaces of the tables themselves are empty, they are skillfully engraved with images of food. All of the furnishings in the room are finely crafted, and made of a heavy wood. The side walls may hold paintings or tapestries. The three northern walls of the room are covered in a large mural of a forest, with a clearing in the center overlooking the rising sun.
There are three large chandeliers in the room, one hanging over the center of each of the three tables. None of these are lit, but they still have oil in them and could be lit if the characters so choose. Each chandelier is a series of golden circlets, the largest of which has a diameter of nearly 12ft. Each subsequent circlet is a little smaller, and placed a little higher. The effect is a large, stepped cone, covered in small lanterns.
(If the characters seek to take these golden circlets as treasure, they will be disappointed to find that they are in fact gold-plated iron. Very heavy, and only somewhat valuable).
At the king’s seat (center of the high table) there is no chair. Instead there is a throne of stone, with a king of stone upon it. He wears fine robes, with a long but sharply cropped beard, and an intent gaze. A cursory inspection will reveal an oddity about the way his head is carved; there is an indented circlet about it, as though something is meant to be mounted there. In his lap, the king holds a stone scroll engraved with the words:
“In my time there were pretenders to my crown. Each tried to have me slain, and for that crime lived a long life in darkness. For each I had a crown made of finest gold and gems, to wear upon their head in solitude. “Now that all of us have long past, I will grant these fool’s crowns to any who place my own atop my head.”
Behind the stone king is a chest-high stone table, upon which rests five crowns. Each is unique, and each is an example of craftsmanship no modern smith could match. However, if any of these crowns is taken beyond the room’s entry arch while the stone king is not wearing his crown, then they will crumble into ashes. And unfortunately, none of these five crowns will fit snugly on the statue’s head. All are either too large, or too small.
If the players somehow climb up to the chandelier above the statue’s head, they might discover that the smallest of the statue’s rings is slightly different. Closer inspection will reveal that it is, in fact, a very simple crown. A golden circlet with rising and falling ridges around its edge, a thin velvet lining, and a single diamond mounted in the center. This is the king’s crown, and if placed upon his head, will rest perfectly on the indented ring. There is no click, or flash of light, or sound to let the characters know that the crown is correct. However, if they now choose to take any of the other five crowns out of the room, it can be done successfully without them turning to ash.
If the players at any point attempt to remove the king’s crown from the room, they will be turned to stone upon passing beneath the archway. The crown will then fall from their hands, and roll, wobbling, back into the dining hall.
The walls of this rather large room are painted a bright shade of green, with zig-zagging purple stripes running horizontally around it. It’s apparent that this room appeared festive, once upon a time. But in the eons since then, the paint has chipped and the wall’s many stones have eroded and shifted enough that the pattern is more haunting than happy.
On the north wall there is a massive iron door with no handle or hinges. Every edge of the 10ft high, 7ft wide door is covered by the walls, and floor. Embossed on the door are two daggers, one pointing up and one pointing down. At the tip of each dagger is a line which curves away from the blade. This door is sealed with powerful, ancient magic, and will resist any attempt to open it. Even through the use of a knock spell.
In the center of the room is a small square platform 3 steps off the ground. Atop the platform is a large, ornate archway. It is engraved on both sides with a detailed depiction of a battle between humans and demons. Each army starts at the floor, and is depicted marching up the sides of the archway, until they meet. The humans seem to be winning, as they have pushed the demons back from the center of the arch. Aside from this ornate carving, the archway appears to be a simple structure of stone with no magical properties, or any purpose beyond simple decoration.
Despite this, any who walk through the arch will find themselves magically transported to a different, though obviously similar, room. This room apparently has no doors whatsoever, and the archway is in a recess 3 steps below the rest of the floor, rather than on a platform above it. This room is also in much better repair, with bright red walls, and evenly spaced spots of purple. Observant players may also notice that while the carvings on the archway are very similar in this room, there is a notable difference. On this version of the arch, the demons are winning by a significant margin, and have pushed the humans far down the side of the arch.
For ease of reference, I will refer to the room the players enter initially as Room A, and the room they travel to through the arch as Room B.
Moving back and forth between the two versions of the room has no ill effect. However, it is not possible to simply stick one’s head or arm through the portal. Once any part of a person or object moves under the arch, it is quickly drawn to the other side by an irresistible force.
If the arch is examined carefully, players may notice two subtly placed slits in the carving. One on each “side” of the arch. In Room A, the slit is on the leading demon, while in Room B, the slit is on the leading human. These small spaces are perfectly sized for the blade of a dagger or sword. When a blade, or similar pieces of metal, is placed in the demon slot, the secret door slides open. If the same is done with the human slot, the large iron door slides down into the floor. Note that if these weapons are removed, the doors will close again.
Within each of the hidden areas is a large, closed chest. If opened, the chest in Room A contains 500gp worth of golden vegetables. Lettuce, potatoes, carrots, and rutabagas. If they are pieces of artwork, then they are highly detailed and extremely true to life. They even have golden dirt on them. The chest in Room B is, apparently, empty. In truth, however, the two chests are magically linked.
Whenever something is placed within the chest in Room B, and both chests are closed, those objects will immediately be transported to the chest in Room A. As part of this transportation, the item in the chest will undergo a magical transformation. The nature of that transformation is random, and can be rolled on the chart below. (Roll 1d12. If the players use the chest more than 5 times a day, switch to rolling 1d6). Once a transformation has been performed, it is permanent.
1. Transforms into a deadly poison gas which will be released when the chest is opened. (3d6 con, using my Simple, Deadly Poisons rules).
2. Crumbles into dust.
3. Is given a horrifying, unholy life. Potatoes will be little screaming balls of flesh, rapiers will be starving creatures wailing for food. A living creature would suffer some dreadful transformation, such as gaining a second head which is not alive, or something of that sort.
4. Transforms into a lovely perfume, which will be released when the chest is opened.
5. Transforms into a basic weapon or piece of armor (sword, mace, staff, shield, helm). It has no special properties, but will take on the appearances of whatever it originally was. A copper coin might become a copper shield with the face of someone important on it. A spear of asparagus might become a literal spear of asparagus.
6. Shrinks to 25% of its original size, and becomes silver. The transformation is crude, and could not be passed off for fine craftsmanship.
7. Transforms into a very fine painting of whatever it was, set amongst appropriate surroundings. (A pitchfork would be depicted leaning against a barn, or held angrily in the hands of an angry mob). Likely of good value as an art piece.
8. Transformed into a quiver of arrows. If these arrows strike a creature, and that creature fails their save, then they will turn into a pile of whatever the original object was. If a spider is placed in the chest, then whoever is struck by the arrows will become a pile of spiders. Note that the weight of the victim determines how big a pile they will be transformed into. So a dwarf will turn into a dwarf-sized pile of spiders, while a titan will turn into a titan-sized pile of spiders. (If a coin receives this result, titan hunting could become a very profitable venture).
9. Whatever is placed in the chest becomes a creature of roughly dog-size, with a dog’s intelligence, and a dog’s loyalty for whomever owned the object placed in the chest. This works even if the object placed in the chest was inanimate. A dagger will become a dog-sized dagger with strange metal legs and eyes.
10. The item(s) double in number. If a cat is placed in the chest, two identical cats will appear. If ten cats are placed in the chest, twenty cats will appear. Note that if the chest in Room B is more than halfway full, then the doubled amount will take up more space than the chest in Room A has. In this event, the doubled items will not be damaged or harmed in any way. However, the moment the lid of the chest is cracked open, it will fling open, and the newly doubled items will fly out as though the chest were under pressure.
11. The only thing in the chest is a small circular medallion with a perfectly realistic painting of whatever was placed inside the chest within it. Whenever this medallion is held firmly in the hand, the wielder will be able to detect the presence and direction of such an item within 100ft. If a book is used, then the wielder will be able to detect all nearby books. This detection ability does allow the wielder to differentiate between distinct objects. So if they are holding a book in one hand and the medallion in the other, they will still be able to detect a different book 60ft away on the other side of a wall.
12. Turned to gold. Retains its shape perfectly, but will likely not retain any of its original function. A golden sword will break easily, a golden crossbow simply will not work, and a golden squirrel will be dead.
The players encounter an archway, and beyond it a long hallway with many doors. The hall extends beyond the furthest edges of their light source–no matter how far that light extends. About 60ft from the archway is a very strange statue. It appears to be carved in the rough shape of a man’s torso and legs, with no arms or head. The construction is very bulky, with flat surfaces and sharp corners. The body is turned away from the hallway entrance, but a large face has been carved on the statue’s back. Its eyes are deep cavities which appear black and dark. The mouth is large, and open. Upon the strange face’s tongue is a marvelous treasure, to be determined by the GM.
If the players pass through the archway, the statue will eerily come to life. The face and the expression on it will remain still, but the legs will walk further down the hallway, away from the players. Within this hallway, the statue will always match the lead player’s movement, step for step. No matter how fast the characters run the statue will match their pace, even moving at speeds which might seem impossible for a stiff creature made of stone. This strange golem is also able to detect magical travel, and has been equipped with the ability to use dimensional door at will. If the players attempt to get close to the creature using spells such as teleport, ethereal jaunt, or even dimensional door, the golem will sense their magic use, and activate its own dimensional door nearly simultaneously, keeping itself well out of reach.
In truth, this hallway is not very long at all. A few feet before the end of the hall, a powerful illusion makes it appear as though the hallway extends beyond sight. This illusion is nearly perfect. The hallway it displays will react correctly to any light sources the players may bring, or to any objects they may throw into it. Only inches in front of this illusion is a one-way teleportation portal, which warps anything that moves through it back towards the start of the hallway, near the arches. Like the illusion, this portal was crafted by a true master of the magical arts. It is completely invisible, without any light or sound to give away its position. Furthermore, those who pass through the portal do not feel any of the physical sensations which normally accompany magical travel.
The portal does not function in the opposite direction, however. Nor is there any illusion near the hallway’s entrance. If the characters look behind them, they will be able to accurately see their current distance from the archway, and they can easily leave at any time.
It’s important to note that the golem’s movements are always in reaction to whoever appears to be closest to it, but the golem can only detect creatures with the eyes of its face. As such, if one player remains still while another player pursues the golem, the teleportation will eventually cause the character who is remaining still to be behind the golem, where they cannot be seen. Additionally, the golem is not intelligent. It has only a very simple set of instructions which it will follow strictly. As such, it will not use dimensional door to escape unless it detects magical travel being used. And despite its fearsome appearance, the stone creature has no means with which to defend itself from an attack.
Once the treasure is removed from the golem’s mouth, all spells in the hallway are broken. The golem turns into a simple statue, the illusion disappears and the teleportation effect ends. Replacing the treasure within the golem’s mouth will not restore these effects. The treasure is not necessarily magical, but it served as the switch which kept the magical circuit active. Once the switch is removed, it would take a wizard of untold skill to reactivate it.
Somewhere, perhaps beneath the false bottom of a mysterious sarcophagus, the adventurers discover a twisting staircase. It’s width of 7ft would seem safe, if not for the dizzying drop to the ground below, and the complete lack of a railing. The steps are broad, and wind lazily around the edge of the massive cylindrical chamber. The outside edge of the staircase, where it drops off into open air, has become strangely worn. The stone slopes downward sharply, almost as though the stone had been eroded by decades of flowing water. The rest of the stairs show no sign of such wear, only the edge.
In the center of the chamber is a tall pillar which rises roughly half as high as the staircase does. Atop the pillar is a statue of a man, twice life sized. He is depicted as emaciated, starving, and in great pain. His arms are spread wide as if beseeching the gods to end his suffering, and his head is tilted back in a silent, eternal moan. At his feet is a stone feast: a roast bird, a cask of wine, numerous styles of fruit and fish which are so masterfully carved that they actually look appetizing. Like the stairway, the outside edge of the pillar is worn around the edges, sloping sharply down in a way which appears as though it might be erosion.
If the players position themselves on the stairs so they can look within the statue’s mouth, they will be able to see a glint of gold. Closer inspection will reveal that the statue has a tongue of gold within its mouth.
If an amount of gold equal to at least one gold piece is placed within the statues mouth, it will immediately melt and fuse with the golden tongue. When this happens, a click will be heard from the stone bird. If the players pull on the roast bird’s leg after they feed the statue, they will find that it twists off, revealing the fowl to be hollow. Within are are twenty brilliantly green emeralds, each worth no less than 50 gold pieces.
Unfortunately, the tasks of feeding the starving statue and reaching its pillar, are not so simple. The room is under a strange enchantment. With the exception of the stairs and the pillar of the starving statue, the chamber is affected by ten times the normal force of gravity. Any item tossed or held over the edge of the stairs will suddenly become ten times heavier, and any character who falls from the stairs will suffer damage as though they had fallen ten times further than they had. (ex. In Pathfinder every 10ft fallen results in 1d6 damage, thus in this room, 10ft fallen would result in 10d6 damage). Note that the floor at the base of the chamber is not affected by this enchantment, and characters can walk on the floor there normally.
Beyond the archway is a short stone staircase descending 4ft into a large room filled with water. The water is three and a half feet deep, and all but the first step are submerged beneath its surface. The water does not flow, and a thorough examination of the room will not reveal any point at which fresh water comes into the room. Yet strangely, the water lacks any of the stagnant murkiness one would expect to find in still dungeon water. It is crisp and clear, allowing anyone standing at the stairs an easy view of the stone floor beneath the water’s surface. There are no deadly creatures lurking in this water, it appears to be nominally safe.
The main features of the room are the four large sarcophagi. spaced roughly 12ft from both the walls, and from each other. The lid of each sarcophagus is level with the water, such that it is obvious water will not pour into them the moment they are opened; but even slight movement would cause ripples large enough to splash the bodies within. Each of the sarcophagi is adorned with a large stone depiction of an object. Atop one is a large stone book which lies open. The writing on the exposed pages of the book is magical, and can only be read by casting Read Magic. The stones function as a Scroll of Knock which can be used unlimited times. Any attempt to remove the book from the top of the sarcophagus will cause the runes to crack, and become unusable.
Another sarcophagus bears a large stone depiction of a sword, while a third is topped with a massive stone rat who appears feral and hungry. The final sarcophagus is topped with an elaborate feast of stone. It depicts a roast bird, several piles of fruits, a large of wine, and a large fish on a tray.
The room is constructed of simple stone, and the ceiling is 15ft above the floor. The only other obvious feature of the room are three metal rods–one of gold, one of silver, and one of copper. Each is 3ft in length, and they hang down from the center of the ceiling in a triangle pattern.
Anytime one of the sarcophagi is opened, the copper rod in the ceiling will send a lightning bolt down into the water. Anyone standing within the water or who is anywhere near the rods is subject to this damage. [In pathfinder, 10d6 damage, Reflex save DC: 20 for half; in OD&D 6d6 damage, save v. wands for half].
Within the sarcophagus with the book on top of it, there is the dessicated body of a woman. On the underside of the lid is a fist-sized dial. When it is turned, a previously unseeable seam will appear amongst the pages on the stone book. The page will turn, revealing a blank page with three very thin strips of metal embedded into it. The first is silver, the second is copper, and the last is gold. If, for some reason, the stone book’s pages are up against the wall or another hard surface, and cannot turn, then the player will also be unable to turn the dial on the lid’s underside.
Within the sarcophagus adorned with a statue of a feral rat, there is the dessicated body of a man. Immediately upon being opened, a blast of blue-grey smoke will be released. The cloud will force anyone within 5ft to make a saving throw. (Pathfinder: Fortitude, DC 16; OD&D: Save v. Poison) Failure causes the victim’s muscles to become limp and unresponsive for a turn (10 minutes). If they fall into the water, they may drown if they are not rescued.
The sarcophagus with a sword atop it is deeper than the others, and packed tightly with bones. They have been neatly stacked according to their type (femurs with femurs, ribs with ribs, skulls with skulls…). There are exactly enough bones here for 8 human bodies. The bones are not undead. They do not have any aura, and will not react to turn undead. However, if the lightning bolt is ever activated while this crypt is open, the bolt will angle off to the side, striking these bones rather than the water. At this point, the bones will leap from the sarcophagus and form into 8 undead skeletons, where each bone is bound to the others with a tiny arc of electrical static. These skeletons fight as standard skeletons do, but have an additional 2 HD, and deal additional electricity damage in addition to their normal damage (Pathfinder: 2d6; OD&D: 1d6).
The sarcophagus with the feast atop it contains the dessicated remains of a woman. If the players choose to search for a false bottom, they will discover that beneath the body is a stairway which leads to the next level of the dungeon.
The rods on the ceiling can be removed easily enough. Once they are gripped, a simple quarter turn will release them, and allow them to be pulled easily from the holes they’re mounted in. However, the lightning will activate if the rods are not removed in the proper order. The proper order is silver first, followed by copper, followed by gold. Once removed from the ceiling, the rods have no magical properties. However, the copper rod is worth 50gp, the silver rod is worth 200gp, and the golden rod is worth 800gp!
Notethat the below describes a single instance of a Skeletal Assembly Line room. It functions on its own, but if one of these rooms exists, then there are likely more of them. Hidden behind stone walls and false book shelves, producing the tools of war and sending them to who-knows-where for who-knows-what purpose. If this room is used, the GM is encouraged to hide several similar rooms. And don’t forget to add material gatherers to the random encounter table!
The secret door was more difficult to find than most; just a sliding section of wall in the middle of a corridor. The players never would have found it if they hadn’t seen a skeleton run by with an armful of old chains, then be gone from sight too quickly to have used any of the visible exits. Even with that to go on, it took the characters an hour to finally find the loose stone which, when turned, unlatched the hidden door and allowed it to swing open freely, revealing a short corridor leading to a room filled with the red glow of a fire.
Within the room was like nothing the players had ever seen. The soundproofing on that door must have been remarkably, because the characters were suddenly assaulted by a cacophony of sound once they stepped through it. Flames roared, hammers clanged, and the omnipresent clacking of bones against steel and stone. The room was filled with skeletons, dozens upon dozens of them, each repeating some mundane task over and over again. And not a one of them paid the intruders any mind.
Right in front of the players as they entered the room was the pile of refuse; dead adventurer’s armor, a thousand goblin spear heads, countless belt buckles and chains and other detritus. All of it steel. Skeletons swarmed over the pile, disassembling each piece, discarding anything that wasn’t steel. Leather, cotton, twine, even gold and gems were tossed into a wheelbarrow held by another skeleton. When it was full, the skeleton would wheel it away down another corridor, out another secret door, to dispose of it. Another skeleton with another wheelbarrow was already there to take the place of the first.
The steel that was left over was piled into another cart on a small rail. Whenever it was full, it was rolled up a ramp and dumped into a boiling vat of liquid metal. When the steel was ready, the skeletons at the vat would tip it forward, spilling the steel into a mold where it was shaped into the component parts of blades. A half dozen skeletal smiths cooled these parts in a communal pool of water, and hammered each piece into the proper shape before other skeletons take them to sharpen on a whetstone, before finally dropping them onto the conveyor belt.
Still more skeletons standing on either side of the belt deftly assemble the swords component pieces into usable weapons. Leather strips for the sword handle is periodically carried in by a blood-covered skeleton who probably comes from a similar room elsewhere in the dungeon. Given the denizens the players have encountered in the dungeon so far, they can only imagine the leather comes from goblins, orcs, or human adventurers like themselves.
The belt is turned by a skeleton with crank in hand, who moves it at a perfectly efficient speed to allow all of the work to be finished before it reaches the end of the belt, where the completed swords are dropped into a mysterious chute. The swords can be heard sliding against the stone for a long while, descending to some unknown depth for some unknown purpose. Who, the players wonder, could possibly need so many swords?
At least they have one clue to that riddle. The final step before the swords are dropped into the chute is for a strange symbol to be engraved on each blade. The players don’t recognize it, but perhaps someone else will? At least it’s something to look out for as they delve deeper into the dungeon.
The skeletons will continue to ignore the players indefinitely. Even if the players attack one of the skeletons, it will do whatever it can to continue working at its task for as long as possible. A disruption in the production chain will be noticed, however. The skeletal assembly line is a well oiled machine. And the moment any given skeleton no longer has a task to perform, they will immediately attack any living thing in the room, whether it’s a rat, or an adventurer.
