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!

Note that 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.

Each of the three “Against The Giants” modules, which I recently picked up as pdfs, serve the player with a similar task. Assault the fortress of some giants–be they of hill, frost, or fire variety. This presents an odd problem if the GM is attempting to portray the giants intelligently. What’s to stop every giant in the place from descending on top of the players, swarming them with more foes than they can handle? And if the players need to retreat to tend their wounds, why wouldn’t the giants fortify their positions against further invasion, thus making it difficult or impossible for the adventurers to return?

After all, a fortress isn’t like a dungeon. A dungeon is simply filled with monsters, who may or may not be working in conjunction with other creatures in the dungeon. But at best a given creature will control only part of a dungeon. A fortress is a different matter entirely. The nature of a fortress is that everyone within is working together to mount a singular defense against outside intrusion. Gygax recommends that, once the players have the giants on the defensive, the giants will set up ambushes and traps. I can’t help but wonder why the Giants don’t use their time to, ya know, lock the door. Maybe bar it from the inside.

Perhaps an analysis of NPC “A.I.” is in order, but that’s for another post. Lets imagine that the players never left the fortress in the first place Or they did, but they’re very skilled at scaling walls and shuffling through air ducts. The giants can’t keep them out for whatever reason, so they’re forced to come up with a trap which will be effective, and can be ready to go before the PCs get back.

I came up with the fallback corridor, which doesn’t require much. The most important element is a hallway with pillars, or anything a sizable number of folks could hide behind. Everything else the trap requires should be easy to locate in any local: a large, thick tarp or blanket, weights, and rope.

The blanket, with as much weight attached to its edges as possible, is suspended from the ceiling. Ropes are used to form a crude trip line mechanism which will release the tarp from its suspension, dropping it on whatever unsuspecting interlopers are snooping about below.

Once the blanket falls, the adventurers will be blinded to anything around them, while remaining highly visible (as big lumps) to attackers. I would say that disorientation & the weights on the tarp will prevent the players from acting for at least 1 round. After that, they’re entitled to a dexterity check (In Pathfinder, DC: 14) to escape on the 2nd round. If that is failed, the players can automatically free themselves by the third round.

While the players fumble to escape from the ridiculous prison, the giants hiding behind the pillars will have ample time to step out, fire a round from their crossbows or hurl a boulder, then flee down the corridor and around the corner. Of course, there ought to be some chance for them to miss, but I don’t think it should be too high. Perhaps 30% concealment at most. The trapped adventurers should probably not receive a dexterity bonus to their armor class either.

The trap is stupidly simple, but should be an effective way of waging guerrilla war against the guerrillas who invaded your fortress.

Some options to make the trap more interesting or deadly:

• Secret doors behind the pillars allow the giants to escape quickly.
• Instead of using a tripwire, one of the giants has mounted a mirror high on the wall where it is unlikely to be noticed. It allows him to spy on the corridor without poking his head out, and if enemies wander by, he can manually release the tarp by tugging on the rope.
• Even if the players have a difficult time getting out from under the tarp, they will likely see the giants flee (assuming there are no secret doors). The giants would recognize this, and assuming the players give chase, they could be led directly into a second trap.