The Legion of Gold

 The Legion of Gold is the largest, oldest, alliance of Outsiders in the Lower Planes, predating the creation of the Tanar'ri and the foundation of Baator. Indeed, it is the largest, oldest alliance in the entire multiverse. The Laws of Heaven were only ideas, and mortals mere beasts, when the Legion was founded. The members of the Legion call themselves 'Soldiers of Gold'.

The word for that epithet in Old Infernal is Yugoloth. 

The Yugoloths are not a species. 

    They are a polity, an army, a disparate, self-cannibalising, disloyal, destructive, heaving legion, constructed of the myriad castoff Fiendish kinds created by those ancient avatars of true evil, the Baernaloths. Even the evil of the Abyss pales compared to their foul campaign across creation, waged since magic was young. 

    Among their numbers they count many loyal strains of fiends - the leadercaste called 'Ultroloth', or 'Masterful Soldier', or the low-ranking thugs referred to as the 'Dhergoloth', or 'Hungry Soldiers', for example. 

    These species have their own names, but they are unknown to mortals, perhaps even to their fellows in the Legion. 

Some, less loyal, who are neither Tanar'ri nor Baatezu, drift closer to their orbit - the Oni of Acheron, the Concubi of the Abyss, the Ravaasta of Hades (who are called 'Arcanoloths' by some). 

    Every kind of fiend - exiled Tanar'ri, hideous Vaporighu, defecting Baatezu, bizarre Maelephants, secretive Gehreleths, scheming Night Hags, surviving Obyriths and even the supposedly independent Rakshasa, can count representatives within the Legion - and enemies without it. 

    What of the Legion's leadership? Certainly, the Ultroloths hold authority, and they hold above all their lord, the General of Gehenna. Supposedly, when the General sits upon the Siege Perilous, (his throne of petrified, living demons) which lies atop Khin-Oin, the Godbone Tower, the End of All Things will begin. 

Supposedly. 

In his absence, the High Oinoloth, a master plague-crafter, is scheming chancellor of the great tower. 

    The Legion's founders, the Baernaloths, embody a form of utterly apathetic, sociopathic evil - a kind of almost banal, low-level, omnidirectional hate, without passion.  

They saw everything but themselves as an object or a tool, to be taken, used, broken, and discarded. They do not lead the Legion - indeed, most fear it, as almost all of the ancient Baernaloths met their end at the blades and claws of their spawn. 

    It was this first rebellion that inspired the Baernaloths to create the Books of Keeping,  ancient tomes, now lost, which contained in their four-hundred and forty four volumes the names of every member of the Legion. 

Most were burnt by the vengeful 'Loths, and, by now, the Legion's numbers far exceed such paltry records. 

The potential of the Books as a weapon against the Legion is a strange and baseless rumour - some say spread by the Yugoloths themselves, to decieve their adversaries. 

    What of their laws? They hold none, not any more, none but the Law of Gold, the reason and excuse for the Legion's mercenary actions across the Multiverse.

None judge a Canoloth for guarding a vault in the City of Doors. None judge an Arcanaloth that illicitly advises a Bytopian Sphinx on matters of magic. None judge an Ultroloth for leading an army across some Prime Plane. None would even judge a Dhergoloth for taking a contract to knit. 

So long as the Law of Gold is not broached - 'Nothing Costs Nothing'.

    The Legion think in expenditures and profits, an attitude beaten into them by millions of years of commerce, slavery and mercenerial wars. 

There are no mercenaries their equal in all creation. They act with professionalism, ruthlessness and skill (if not charm or class), as long as their payment persists. Mortals refer to the Primeval Pacts of Baator and the loose agreements of the Abyss as 'Contracts', but the Legion are the only fiendish organisation with a specialist caste of contract lawyers (The Yagnoloths). 

    They are not the teeming horde of the Abyss, nor the faceless myrmidons of Hell. They are the elite. They use all the most modern technology - the average Ultroloth wields a jezail armed with silver shot, alongside the traditional longsword. 

The conflict to which they devote most of their time is the eternal Blood War, a conflict which many accuse them of both sparking and prolonging, for their benefit. 

To the average mortal, for whom greed and violence are common, the Legion are at once the most understandable, and the most reprehensible of all the Fiends. 

5e Subclass - Dungeon Domain

 

Cleric Domain of Dungeons – offered by gods of Traps and Loot – for example, Kurtulmak.

DOMAIN SPELLS

1^st  Snare, Alarm

3^rd Find Traps, Rope Trick

5^th Tiny Servant, Gaseous Form

7^th  Fabricate, Hallucinatory Terrain

9^th Animate Objects, Passwall

 

Trapmaker’s Tools

At 1^st Level, you learn the Mage Hand cantrip, and gain proficiency with Thieves’ Tools and Tinker’s Tools.

Cut and Run

A good Dungeon Cleric knows when to get the hell out of there. You can Disengage as a Bonus Action.

Channel Divinity: Timing is Everything

Beginning at 2^nd Level, when you cast a Cleric Spell of 1^st Level or higher, you may expend your Channel Divinity and make that spell into a Glyph, which you then apply to any surface you can touch, including skin or objects such as shields. At any point within the next 24 hours, you may use your Reaction to cast the Spell from that Glyph’s space. If you don’t within 24 hours, the magic fades.

Lucky Escape

Beginning at 6^th Level, when you would make a Dexterity, Constitution or Strength saving throw, you can use your reaction to gain advantage on that save as the luck of the trap-maker saves you. You can use this a number of times per Long Rest equal to your Wisdom Modifier.

Potent Spellcasting

Starting at 8th level, you add your Wisdom modifier to the damage you deal with any cleric cantrip.

You Fell Right into My Trap

When an enemy makes a Saving Throw against an effect that you set up beforehand (i.e. did not cast this round) it has Disadvantage and loses the Evasion feature if it has it. If it fails its save, you regain one Channel Divinity.

Anarchia

I made this hellish mess of a map for a one-shot i played with my regular D&D group (the main game being on break due to The Extenuating Circumstances).

The plan for the oneshot was to play characters from d-and-wiki's much maligned 5th Edition homebrew section.

(https://www.dandwiki.com/wiki/5e_Homebrew - Enter at your own risk)

It was, in my opinion, a success.

We had a small horse armed with various magicks and the ineffable power of Dad (wielding a blade which says World's ---- Dad).

A blind, deaf pile of dirt, who rode around on a magic horse and was in service to the Chromatic Lords, the icons of chaos.

An illithid ninja so edgy one could cut themselves by looking at them - who also had a thrillingly abysmal Strength and Charisma score.

And then, an immortal martial-arts demigod who used Demogorgon as a butler.

He was phased out around halfway through for a variety of reasons, replaced by a suit of armour containing a hungover ghost, with a melee range gun.

The 'setting', for lack of a better word, was Anarchia, a hellish hex-crawl through these psychedelic danger-zones. I enjoyed it immensely. Probably would work best in Troika! Who knows?

The idea was that Anarchia was once Aleria, an entirely ordinary and pleasant fantasy setting, perhaps of the Dragonlance variety, that got neatly and thoroughly explodafucked, into a region of unreality called the Void of Chaos.

Every person became an immortal, nutty mutant with a wide variety of goofy powers - hence, the oneshot. 

Monster Munch: Planescape Outsiders

Perhaps Monster Munch will become a series where i ramble non-comittally about creatures.

----

Is Outsider still accurate in 5e? I've never played any other edition, but i tend not to confer with 5e sourcebooks too much, when writing for my fantasy elf-game.

I personally like using the term Outsider to encompass anything weird and non-mortal in Planescape. It's such a broad, useless, and material-plane-centric term, that it really fits with the philosophical and... perspectival (?) themes of Planescape. 

Charming denizens of the Abyss - all smiles!

The issue with the Outsiders is, DMs tend to run them exactly the same. 

Modrons, Slaad, Fiends, Celestials, and everything else, get played as mindless drones that attack your (probably 'Chaotic Neutral') party on sight and fight to the death. Occasionally they proclaim whichever planar bigshot they serve in a snarly monster voice (or robot voice, or angel voice, you get the idea.) 

What a waste! 

I think the reason that Devils/Baatezu and Demons/Tanar'ri work is that they've got an alien mindset. 

Baatezu only respect Writ and Wit, so to speak - sure, you're mighty, but do you have any legal authority? Everything is based on how the current situation relates to The Law, and how far those rules can be bent and broken.  Even defecting Baatezu consider things in relation to systems - Baateu don't age, and most of them are many thousands of years old. Defectors have been having Asmodean propaganda drilled into their heads for millenia. Pretty hard to escape that. 

Tanar'ri respect only power - or the illusion thereof. Theirs is a 'society' which utterly lacks the bonds of love, mercy, identity, currency, law - fuck, the Abyss doesn't even have a flag! Ironically, I tend to find that the ordered Baatezu make more sense as individuals that work together, whereas the chaotic Tanar'ri make me think more as, while creatures in their own right, parts of the greater Abyssal consciousness. All Planes have a sense of aliveness to them, but the Abyss is the most 'awake', so to speak. 

These mindsets work because they are divorced from the human mindset - which could probably be defined as being equal parts fear, greed and love, to make a truly staggering generalisation. 

The alien mindsets really put the Out in Outsider. 

This is also why, on the whole, the Yugoloths don't work. What do they want? Good question! It's entirely hazy, and has been, since it was decided that there needed to be 'Neutral Evil' fiends, for the purpose of grid filling. 

Do the Yugoloths want wealth? They seem to, yes, but that's not exactly alien. Humans do evil for money all the time. It ends up making the Yugoloths seem like people, which isn't the idea at all. 

'Nobody knows' is not a helpful answer for DMs - to translate that, 'the designers couldn't think of anything.' This contributes precisely dick to anything. 

In my own Planescape games, I usually fall back on the idea that Yugolothic culture encourages the Mercenary Fiends to be just that - disloyal and utterly, all-consumingly narcissistic. Selflessness is completely alien to the Yugoloths. Everything is adjudicated in how it relates to the Yugoloths' own personal gain, down to the inanimate. 

To summarise

If you create a weird, magical monster with entirely human goals, it may as well be a human with weird, magical powers. Make alien creatures think in alien ways. It makes them more interesting. 

The Map of Aclas

Drew a world map of Aclas, for my own use and the players'. This kind of map would be avaliable from any cartographer, found in many major cities.



I might make a more easily edited pixel one? Still, there it is. Subject to change.

Carnifex

FROM THE ARCHIVES OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ISKADAR:

There is absolutely no solid evidence that points to the existence of Carnifexes. They're a particularly gruesome myth, nothing more. Our anthropologist colleagues like to talk about how the myth of the carnifex fits into the greater scheme of underdark mythoi.

They've helpfully labelled it 'Motif 4A, Possession via Blood Infection'.

The myth of the Carnifex usually describes one of two origin points: The first is the consumption of unclean or 'tainted' meat, from some lightly described fauna. The second is from the ingestion or injection of 'unclean blood'.

Some anatomists have suggested that the Carnifex was the way primitive Underdarkers explained away the dangers of blood transfusion.

After the meat or blood enters the body, the victim will, according to tales, begin to act irrationally - anger, or fear, are the main responses, perhaps adjusted for the setting in which the story is being told. The classic motif in these tales is the victim reporting hearing a whispering in a language they do not understand. 'buzzing at the back of the neck', as one collection eloquently put it.

Some alchemists have suggested that this is linked somehow, to the role that the 'brain-stem' plays in psionic processes. Of course, psionics are poorly understood and possibly best classified as magic. For more studies on Psionics, see Alphon's Powers of the Mind or Simico's Processes of the Spine.

(A scribbled note in the margin: 'If you can find a copy!')

On with the myths. As this whispering increases in intensity, the victim begins to display both increased appetite and debilitating nausea in turns. This often leads to vomiting and irritability. While the increased appetite is certainly an outlier, the consumption of ordinary 'bad' meat can be linked with nausea, certainly.

Myths are reticent to fully describe stages beyond this, however, the condition is repeatedly described as carrying no risk of fatality.

One account collected from an isolated hamlet in Caudann (a region of the Underdark populated by a varied group of the native folk, and crossed by many underground rivers) has more to offer:

'The flesh boyls, and becomes twysted. They are as clay yn the Carnyfexes clawes.  Now, There ys No Hope for the poer sod. Burn theyr effects and consygn them to a deep grave.' 

This suggests infectiousness. If Carnifexes are representative of a real disease, it is surely an easily transmissible one. This hypothesis does rely on 'folk wisdom', however. I must reiterate the lack of actual evidence for any of this.

Reports from the Kessek Expedition that suppose to record the later stages of Carnifex infection are almost definitively false. Kessek (unwelcome in most universities already, by that point) describes one of the Expedition's porters developing 'a distended jaw' and 'clawed hands'. A fanciful explanation for a negligent loss of personnel, I would wager.

A further note. We shan't bother further printing any of Kessek's writings, for most of them are obviously either fabricated or plagiarised.

While a disease that seriously affects the behaviour of an infectee and causes extensive physical changes would be of serious concern, i highly doubt such a thing could exist under the sun - or indeed, beneath the earth.

The Steel Mace

On Aclas, Paladins are not linked to religion. Their role – as the violent defenders of their faith – is occupied instead by the Orders Militant of the Church of the Maker, clerics and faithful who enact good old-fashioned violence in the name of the Pantheon.

Digression: The Pantheon

The ‘Gods’ of Aclas are not really considered to be true gods. They’re regarded more like saints or bodhisattvas, ascended mortals who are exceptional and ‘holy’.

There’s 48 ‘Aspects’ ranging from Thieves to Oaths to Destruction to Healing, representing the Divine Portfolio of The Maker. When the Maker left Aclas some 10000 years ago, she gifted these aspects to the people of Aclas. Or, they were stolen, it’s hard to say.

Either way, the Aspects have been occupied by successive mortals since then – when a person dies and ascends to the Astral, they can challenge an Aspect for their position – for example, the position of Aspect of Thieves is based on whether the aspirant can ‘steal’ the position from the previous holder.

Every Aspect has had at least three holders by now, some as many as twelve. The most recently ascended Aspects are Atalan, Goddess of Invention, and Torc, God of Thieves, each of whom ascended within living memory. In life, Atalan was the inventor of ‘Vis’, the magical fuel which powers all of Aclas’ steampunk shit. She invented Vis only 40 years ago, and achieved apotheosis only 28 years ago. It’s entirely possible a party playing in Aclas might have members older than some extant Gods.

When an Aspect is dethroned, their Clerics don't immediately lose all their magic, the Aspects in question just lose the power to create new ones. 

Some Aspects have been in their positions for a long time. Yxamor, the God of Destruction, was one of the first five dragons in life, and has held the position since his untimely and surprising death 7000 years ago.

Back to the Orders Militant

Mostly consisting of people D&D5e would class as Clerics, Fighters and Rangers, the Orders Militant are your go-to folk for violence in the name of The Maker.

Most of the time, this is directed against Demons, Voidlings, Evil Spirits, etc. Historically, it’s also been directed against the not insignificant portion of Aclans that don’t worship the Maker (either preferring her legendary enemy the World Serpent, or denying her Godhood outright).

As such, the Orders Militant are kept on a tight leash these days.

Still, some Orders operate without oversight, and without much control. One such Order is The Steel Mace.

The Steel Mace

This Order Militant operates under the Faith of Ysault, the Goddess of Rulership. Ysault is a long-standing goddess, and a very cunning one. In life, she was the last empress of a mighty empire called Argonne, which has long since been consumed by the Mercurial Wild.

Her clerics are usually the ones administering rites of coronation, confirming noble weddings, and basically just generally being lackeys to the rich and powerful. They’re usually fairly disdained. All Clerics of Ysault must respect the wishes and commands of their societal betters. If a king commands it, the cleric must carry it out. They’re not really PC material, to be honest.

However, a small, unmanaged subset of Ysault’s church operate in pretty much the opposite manner. Found only in covert cells, spread across Etra and Zymech, the Steel Mace are a group that work to exclusively topple corrupt and unfit rulers.

Rumours suggest they had a hand in deposing the Zyrna Dynasty of Ziracaa, in toppling the ancient monarchy of Hevashim, and, more recently, they have been accused of helping to spark the Iskorian Civil War.

Whether these whispers are truth, no member of the Mace would confirm. They live their lives covertly, speaking the ancient Argonnish language amongst themselves as a form of code. They’re in almost every major city on Aclas – cells have been reported as far afield as Cordiss and the City of Ghosts.

Despite their Militant nature, the usual purpose of the Mace is observation. They identify a cruel, arbitrary or just downright evil ruler, and slowly find their way to that ruler’s territory, over the course of three years.

Then, the small incitements start. Your new neighbour wonders aloud who would replace the local Baroness, were she to fall ill. The big man down at the pub complains about the Count’s latest skirmishes with his neighbours. A young postwoman accidentally delivers someone’s letter to you – a damning indictment of your town’s mayor.

All of these people are members of the Mace. They are creating the idea of a world without your corrupt ruler. And if they do their job well, pressure is applied, and the ruler’s ways are changed. Or, the ruler is changed. Either way, the Mace win, and your new neighbour moves away in a few years, you stop seeing that big man down at the pub, and that young postwoman changes route.

But sometimes corrupt rulers simply crack down, or revel in the attention. And then, the Mace put on their cloaks. These cloaks are a bright, sunshine yellow, Ysault’s holy colour.

You wake up one morning to see your new neighbour leaving his house, clad fully in plate mail, with a silken yellow cloak.

The big man stands up from the bar, goes up to his room, and comes back down in chain mail and a yellow cloak.

The young postwoman carries no letters, instead, she wears gauntlets and a breastplate. And of course, a yellow cloak.

All of them are carrying steel maces.

And they advance as a group – maybe fifteen, twenty of them. They assault the corrupt ruler’s holdfast. Ysault’s magic and their own skill with weaponry is legendary.

And, if all goes well, the next morning, the town crier announces that the Baron’s niece is now in charge, or some new mayor has been elected. And the people shudder, and move on.

Obviously, the powerful hate the Steel Mace. Any cells that are uprooted are usually driven out or executed. Those that the Mace protect, the ordinary folk, are nervous of them – nervous of the idea that all the great revolutions of Aclan history were just the machinations of Militants in saferooms. Can anyone be sure either way?

In truth, the Mace themselves do not know. Their records are scattered and imprecise, due to their decentralised nature. But they view their task as a sacred duty, and they do not let mere fear or isolation stay them from toppling those who abuse their power.

Magic Items of the Steel Mace

Cloak of Hidden Intent

(Requires Attunement)

This cloak has a powerful enchantment that can be activated by speaking the command words, which are: ‘Repel all seekers of my name.’

Anything wrapped in the cloak – including you – becomes indistinct and unidentifiable unless the target can succeed on a Wisdom Save when perceiving it.

The dimensions, nature and appearance of whatever the cloak is touching become indistinct and hard to remember. Like a dream, you know what they look like when you see them, but as soon as you look away, it slips from your mind like sand through your fingers.

The only thing the cloak cannot obscure is the object or person’s weight. Plate mail still feels as heavy as plate mail, a Kobold still feels as heavy as a kobold.

Most Cloaks of Hidden Intent have non-replenishable charges, designed to discourage their wearers from acting in haste. Only high-ranking members of the Steel Mace have cloaks without a limit on the number of uses.

These cloaks are always a bright, warm, yellow colour.

Mace of Justice

(Requires Attunement)

Maces of Justice appear to be plain steel maces, of a fairly unremarkable design. They are +1 magical weapons, usually, although +2 and +3 variances exist.

They can be activated by whispering the command words to the mace, which are: ‘Swift Death to Tyrants.’

Upon activation, the user must think of a single person who has done an act the wielder of the Mace considers to be evil, or worthy of violent retribution.

They have to genuinely believe this. No spoofing the mace. A committed pacifist could not activate the mace.

For the next 24 hours, the mace deals extra damage to the selected target (and the selected target only) equal to the wielder’s Proficiency Bonus. Furthermore, the Mace’s wielder can use an action to have the quickest path to the target illuminated in golden light, which is only visible to the wielder.

As with the Cloaks of Hidden Intent, most Maces of Justice have limited uses.  

Mask of the Obscured Mind

In the past, the Steel Mace have been thwarted by rulers who use magic, psionics or torture to reveal the identities of Steel Mace Militants before they can take action. In one such case, in 1720, nearly 200 Maces were wounded or killed, when the contemporary Monarch of Idraan used a group of Psions. They uprooted a decent percentage of all the Mace cells in Etra. This was crippling for the order, perhaps the reason for reduced presence in recent decades.

As such, high ranking members of the Mace developed these masks in order to take the deception a step further. After an elaborate ritual, a willing creature may place this mask on their face, upon which it will absorb their current personality and memories, and construct for them an elaborate fake life based loosely on their own one.

The creature under the Mask’s effect believes these lies wholeheartedly, to the point where a Zone of Truth cannot detect them.

At a later date, some trigger occurrence – like another member of the Mace meeting you and speaking a pre-agreed code-phase – will cause you to impulsively seek out the Mask, wherever you hid it, and place it on your face, regaining your old memories slowly. This is fairly traumatic, and only the toughest Maces are selected to be ‘False People’.

If the mask is broken, all of your memories come back at once, knocking even the toughest person unconscious for an hour as their brain goes: ‘Uhhh. What?’

I think it could be kind of interesting to have a party member turn out to have secretly been a hardcore militant Mace the entire time. Still, this isn’t something you spring on players. Conspire with your players in secret, it’s great fun.

Playing a Member of The Steel Mace

Is fairly easy. Just inform your DM that you want to give this weird concept for a character a shot, and then play a Cleric, Fighter or Ranger serving a god of kings, queens and civilisation. Or, in a setting where the lore isn’t weird, an Oath of Crowns Paladin with a custom Oath.

Spirits and Paladins

Spirits

Spirits are omnipresent in Aclas. They physically occupy the ‘Otherworld’, an extradimensional space overlaid on Aclas, which can be accessed via portals, or through mirrors on the full moon.

Spirits are essentially magic given form. 

They are similar to, but different from ‘Figments’, the denizens of the Astral Sea (the realm of dreams and the afterlife). Figments represent individual experiences and ephemera; each Figment is spawned from the love, hate, fear, beliefs or nightmares of one particular person, whereas Spirits are more solid, and are influenced by the broad conceptions of all sentients.

This is why Spirits often take the forms of the ‘four elements’, even though alchemists have identified that the world is made of at least 70 elements, with the number rising every year. The Aclan subconscious as a whole has not got the memo that iron isn’t just fancy earth.

The other thing that makes them different from Figments is that they are influenced by subconscious thought, but are not exculsively shaped by it. In truth, Spirits were around before folk, and will probably be around after them. This accounts for certain idiosyncrasies.

Still, people’s conception of what a Spirit represents can shape them:  Dog Spirits, for example, are kind, and loyal. Fire Spirits are greedy, and all-consuming, but have a charming hearthside manner. Earth Spirits are stubborn and slothful. River Spirits are merchants and kings. Raven Spirits are erudite, chatty necrophages.

Spirits cannot act in contravention to their nature. Unlike Folk, who are infinitely mutable, or Figments, who ignore all logic, Spirits are defined by what they are. A Spirit of Pain cannot be a healer.

Spirit Folk

It is a common phenomena for cultures of Folk who settle in the Otherworld to take on characteristics of spirits, and eventually absorb those spirits within themselves, to live in harmony with their soul. They become a people of concepts.

Examples of Spirit Folk include Wizened, who are kin with the Spirits of Fear, Changelings, who are kin to the Spirits of Mirrors and Mist (a dangerous bunch) or Genasi, kin to the Spirits of the ‘Four Elements’.

We have not yet seen Hydrogen Genasi, but they are a possibility.

Many spirit folk reside in Reality, not just in the Otherworld – communities of Dryads (Plant Spirits) can be found across Etra, and all kinds of Genasi live in millions in Arvinia and the moving city of Suryan.

Other well-known kinds of ‘Spirit Folk’ include Trolls, semi-immortal regenerators who worship themselves as gods. It is unknown what Spirits they represent, but suggestions have included Gluttony, Arrogance or Idiocy.

Paladins

Paladins are those who have made an agreement with a Spirit in exchange for magic. The spirit ‘possesses’ them, more accurately it inhabits their body, increasing their physical capabilities and giving them magic.

The reason that Paladins swear Oaths, is that if the Paladin acts in contravention to the nature of the Spirit giving them power, it causes the Spirit pain. A Paladin sworn to an Air Spirit cannot be a stubborn, set-in-their-ways home bird. They need to be a fast moving, free flowing, unrestrained force of nature.

Aspirant Paladins often consult with multiple Spirits, looking for one that matches their world view.

In this manner, Paladins are a similar class of being to Giant Animals (Spirit Possessed Animals. ‘Dire’ Animals are possessed by Demons.) and Treants (Spirit Possessed Trees).

Paladins are not associated with religion in Aclas. As opposed to the traditional D&D world, where an approaching Paladin implies lawfulness and goodness, the wild-eyed beggar who has just wandered into your town, all the while talking to himself, may be a Paladin of a greedy Earth Spirit, or a destructive Lightning Spirit, or a thirsty Blood Spirit. 

He could just as easily be playing host to a loyal Dog Spirit, a peaceful Rain Spirit, or a docile Cloud Spirit. It is impossible to tell. As such, Paladins are treated with wary respect – it’s hard to tell just what they’re capable of.

+++

To reflect this range of origins for their powers, every Aclan Paladin can choose a different damage type for their Smites, as Radiant might not make sense for, say, a Shadow Spirit or a Forest Spirit.

Furthermore, Divine Sense becomes Spirit Sense, allowing the Paladin to detect the presence of otherworldly entities such as Spirits, Figments, and worse besides.

Channel Divinity gets renamed to Channel Spirit, but is effectively the same.

The Imp's Head

In Sigil's Hive District, there stands a building. It's three stories tall, covered in Sigil's traditional architectural 'blades', and stained with pigeon shit. It's not accessible from the street where it sits: other than a row of grimy windows, it has turned its back on Barb Street, like the sullen Hivers within.

Walking down a dark alley, always flooded, due to brokendown gutters, one might see a heavy, dark door, made of wood, painted black. The door is covered in thick, yellowy moss, and heavy strands of razorvine curl around the frame. Above the door, there's a crude piece of iron sculpture resembling the screeching head of an Imp.

If one were to knock, a small door viewer would slide open, with a rusty squeal, and you would see two balefully glowing orange eyes in the dark space beyond. This is Rozoknar, he is a Hamatula (Barbed Devil), he's the doorman, and the bouncer. Once Rozok's satisfied that you're not Hardheads, or Paladins, he'll open the door and let you in.

Inside, is the Imp's Head. The main bar is dimly lit, even at peak, due to the sheer level of grime on the windows. About sixty feet away, across a crowded room, stands the bar, a scraped, singed construction of heavy, dark wood. Above the bar, a sign in barely legible handwriting: No Change In Silver.

Behind it, stands the bartender; Kor Clotbur, an orangey Tiefling with alarming sabretooth fangs, and a massive scar across his throat. He speaks with a growl and a lisp. Kor constantly glances down at the massive crossbow he keeps behind the bar, not that he needs it to thrash a rowdy patron. Any casual observer can tell - he's built like a brick shithouse.

The main floor of the bar is crowded with round tables, at which sit the clientele: a barmy collective of Cagers, ranging from filthy, unshaven Hivers all the way round to perfumed visitors from the Market Ward. And let me tell you, that's a hell of a walk.

It's not like the bar has much to offer: the roof leaks, and everywhere you have to watch your steps for brass buckets full of dirty rainwater. The liquid sold as beer does not taste like it, aside from the alcohol content. Some accuse Kor of mixing the rainwater with grain alcohol. There's no band, not even a single bard on the empty stand in the corner. Water occasionally leaks up from the flooded basement, and on windy days there's always a fine rain of plaster dust from the ceiling.

Still, the bar is always full. Whispered and growled conversations fill the air, and there's always a broad selection of semi-famous patrons.

Willum, the sole employee of the P.I.C., sits in his own booth by the bar. He seems to be the only person drinking actual lager. No one dares sit across from him, unless they need something, or they're an idiot.

Bert, an elderly Human Athar with a specific grudge against the Raven Queen, the goddess of death. He'll buy anything claiming to increase longevity or prevent death, and many a crosstrader has peeled him with fake powders. His jacket's covered in jangling charms, and he's usually pouring some tincture or paste into his 'beer'. It's a wonder some basher hasn't sold him Purple-Worm venom, yet.

Seven-Times-Blessed, an Aasimar and disgraced lawyer, from some Material Plane or another, who offers advice and will represent a body in the City Courts, free of charge. She's incongrously cheerful and charming.

Hrogg, a smug Orc and member of the Doomguard. He comes here after a long day of knocking down walls and peeling off razorvine. He'll cheerfully challenge any visitor to a game of three dragon ante, but he'll get violent if he loses any money.

Brenca, a Wood Elf, and disgraced ex-paladin of Corellon. She'll not say what caused her to be disgraced, only that she's an Oathbreaker, and no, she won't help with your problems.

Aventa, a Human merchant from the Lower Ward who's going through a strange patch recently - she quit her Faction, the Free League, and has been cold and distant with her friends.

Colcook, the right hand creep of Shemeshka the Marauder, Sigil's most notorious crime boss. He's a hornless Tiefling, which is certainly disconcerting. He sits in the corner, drinking red wine, smirking at nothing and staring at the other customers. Kor would like to throw him out, but any slight against Shemeshka might result in his bar being burned to the ground.

And many other odd characters besides.

The Dark of It

Of course, the Imp's Head has a secret, and it's linked to that sign above the bar.

The Imp's Head is a bar for shapeshifters. The patrons - aside from Willum and presumably Colcook - sit around the bar in their true forms - only shifting back if they hear Rozok open the door.

Bert's a werewolf, and he knows he's headed to the Lower Planes for the feral violence of his youth.

Seven is a literal angel, albeit one disgraced for showing mercy to an escaping legion of Baatezu.

Hrogg is a wereboar, and while he doesn't necessarily keep that a secret, he likes the camaraderie of the Imp's Head.

Brenca's a changeling, who moved here from the Feywild after some traumatic event or another. She's not lying about being a paladin, though, prepare to be smited if you pry.

Aventa's not Aventa at all, but a Doppelganger called Salia, who was present when Aventa was murdered in a mugging. She briefly took on the woman's life to try and minimize her friends' grief, but she can't seem to find a way to escape the persona.

And Willum? Well, nobody bothers asking.

Kor knows about his patrons' true natures, and is entirely supportive. He himself is no face-changer, but his wife was a changeling, and she made him promise to open a place where those who the Cage doesn't trust, could come to trust each other.

He has, although the place barely stays above water. Both literally and figuratively.

Still, if one of your PCs is a shapechanger, mention that they've heard a rumour about a bar where their kind are welcome. After all, it can be good to have a place where you can be yourself.