d20 Mongoose Publishing The Planes Zahhak - Ashen Waste of Abyss.pdf - Mongoose Publishing - R5700

INTRODUCTION

THE PLANES

Zahhak: The Ashen Waste of the Abyss is the second

title of The Planes, a new series of sourcebooks from

Mongoose Publishing detailing new and old planes

of existence. Designed to be seamlessly slotted into

any fantasy-based d20 games system, these

sourcebooks provide thousands of new adventure

hooks across planar boundaries, adding literally

whole new dimensions to any campaign. Each book

of The Planes series gives Games Masters entire new

settings into which to plunge their players, exploiting

the heights of fantasy and legend to create stories of

epic proportions. Zahhak is a smothering layer in the

Abyss, a graveyard of faith, hopes, and dreams where

the land itself saps the strength from body and spirit

alike.

T here is no torture worse than one embraced as

part of life. From one of the Abyss' infinite

layers, such a dark and terrible deity works his

way into the hearts of mortals. There are no temples

to his name, his priesthood is not prosecuted, and

there have been no holy quests against his work. He

is the ruler of Zahhak and is known to the rank and

file of his cult only as Apathy.

The 28th layer of the Abyss stands forgotten among

the greater and more active evils that make their

names infamous across the Material Plane. Its ruler

does not care for recognition as long as he collects

his due: the dreams and hopes of everything that

lives, crushed under his smothering grip. The bitter

words of ex-lovers, the exhaustion that remains after

anger has left, the boredom that stains the simplest

joys, the disillusionment of goals unattained and the

inertia of a life without direction are the evils that

Apathy spreads and that coalesce in Zahhak, with its

unending landscape of ashen dunes.

ZAHHAK: ASHEN WASTE

OF THE ABYSS

Within this sourcebook you will find an entire layer

of the Abyss ready to drop straight into your

campaign. Zahhak is fully detailed, with locales and

features of each of its realms. In addition, Games

Masters will be able to make ready use of the new

creatures that populate the plane as well as the spells,

magic items and artefacts that comprise the dark

knowledge of Zahhak's denizens. Demons drink

from their prisoners' souls, distilling into tradable

merchandise and usable goods the strengths that

drive people in their lives. In the grey palaces of the

demon princes, nothing is sacred.

Ash is all that is left behind after a fire has burned,

and so does Zahhak remain where hope and faith die.

The dark lord of the Ashen Waste is not a terrible

deity that threatens the world with destruction nor

plans campaigns of conquest spanning worlds. He is

a thousand times more dangerous because he is

allowed to exert his influence unpunished. He is

content to let the soulwinds of his realm erode all that

is good and pure.

Zahhak is a place of grey oppression where even the

strongest of heart will lose hope and abandon

themselves to the eroding soulwinds, no longer

caring when the thirsty demons come to collect. An

entire chapter is devoted to helping the Games

Master insert Zahhak quickly and easily into his

existing campaign, with ways to infiltrate and escape

its ashen wastes, and plot hooks and scenarios to

challenge the hardiest adventurers. Few players will

ever forget the adventures they endure in a realm of

ennui and oblivion, where they must protect the very

fire that burns in their hearts.

Apathy's minions attract those who can not or will

not appreciate the holy spark of life they hold inside

their hearts, drinking their abandoned dreams and

distilling them into elixirs of false promises. Anyone

condemned to the mounds of ash is doomed to

become a shell of what he used to be, and anyone

foolish or unfortunate enough to fall into this realm

risks losing any will even to exist.

Zahhak exists unchallenged, a lesser evil squashed

between demons and dark deities, testimony to the

great harm mortals can inflict upon themselves.

They say evil triumphs only when the good man does

nothing. In the dreary eternity of the Ashen Waste,

this could not be truer.

INTRODUCTION

'No .,. this is not true ... tell me this is not true ....' Alastia's eyes were moist and reddened. We had all heard

the screams and ran to the top of the tower where Niels conducted his magic experiments. I was the first to arrive

and, gods, I wish I had been the last.

I found the wizard's robe torn to shreds and the smell of ashes filling the chamber. I do not understand the ways

of magic, but I have travelled with the two lovers for enough time to recognize some of its trappings. The floor

bore the markings of a magical circle which, if I could judge correctly, was a summoning circle.

'Corin ...?' the bard insisted, her beautiful violet eyes asking me for an answer. Behind her, Glarron and

Tullathain reached the entrance to Niels' laboratory. The dwarf priest and the elven bladesinger had been

outside, the only reason they had not beaten me to the door.

'Alis—' I mumbled the nickname I used for her as if she were a little sister. I could not gather the courage to tell

her that the man she loved had vanished in a puff of smoke ... not after the screams we had all heard.

'I feel a great evil,' Glarron said, pushing past me. 'I have warned Niels of his—oh, dear gods!'

Alastia followed suit, and I was unable to stop her. 1 hung my head when her sobs reached my ears. Tullathain

put a hand on my shoulder. Of our group, only he knew of the feelings I harboured for Alastia, unspoken out of

respect for her own. 'She can be yours now,' the elf whispered, trying to comfort me,

'Not like this ...,' I mumbled, admitting to the dark and obscene joy that part of me felt at the wizard's

disappearance.

*He is not dead!' the dwarf yelled, snapping me out my contemplation. Tullathain followed me into the

laboratory, where Garron was holding the symbol to his god high above his head. 'His soul is crying for release

... 1 hear him ... he was taken by a demon—

'Where?!' The bard kneeled in front of the cleric.

'The Abyss ... Zahhak ....' The dwarf blinked, waking from his trance. 'That is all. I can see no more.'

'We must save him!' Alastia looked at us, tears streaming freely down her freckled cheeks. 'He ... he has done

so much for us ... we owe it to him!'

'Hush, child." Glarron patted her on the back. 'No one said we would not try, but we need a place to begin.'

'The Abyss, you said.' The girl's voice no longer trembled, acquiring the hardness of steel that had so many

times urged us to strive forward, to fight better and never stop trying. 'I've heard stories about Zahhak. It is

called the Ashen Waste, but I don't remember anything else.'

'It is a start.' Tullathain nodded. 'The Wizard's Council owes us a few favours, I say it is time we collect.'

'Corin-?' She looked at me and again I could not resist her eyes. I nodded, putting on my mask of friendship and

strength.

'We will find him, Alis. I swear that I will bring him back to you.' My heart could not break any more than it

had already.

d20 Mongoose Publishing The Planes Zahhak - Ashen Waste of Abyss.pdf

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