THE CLOG (Oubliette D&D)

01 Oct, 2026

STARTING IN THE CLOG

You don't start in a tavern. Taverns imply surplus. Surplus implies sunshine.

You start where the falling stops.

The architecture of the oubliette is mostly vertical—endless shafts, slick chutes, and rusted grates dropping into nothing. But occasionally, the pipes narrow. The detritus of higher, unseen levels falls and gets stuck. Over centuries, bone, iron, and compacted filth calcify into a plug.

This is The Clog.

It’s an accidental floor suspended over an infinite drop. It groans under the weight of the miserable things living on it. The air tastes of copper and ammonia. The only light comes from burning rendered fat, which smokes black and makes your eyes water. If you look up, the elves are probably clinging to the ceiling, watching you try to sleep.

Locations of Note

The Seep A crack in the wall where condensation gathers and drips, once every four seconds. This is the only potable water. A half-human named Gallows sits under it with an iron bucket. He has a rusted shank and no lips. A mouthful of water costs one day's worth of food, or a working tool. He doesn't negotiate. Can't.

The Catch The closest thing The Clog has to a market. A massive, sagging net woven from braided hair, wire, and stripped clothing, strung taut across a secondary ventilation shaft. Things drop from the higher cells. The scavengers who maintain the net claim first rights on the bruised meat, shattered wood, and whatever trinkets the dead were carrying when they fell. The master of the net is an elf named Signpost. It trades exclusively for items of emotional significance. It will give you a length of rope or a rusted hatchet, but it wants the last letter you received before you were locked in the dark.

The Cold-Press Fire requires fuel and oxygen. The Clog cannot spare either. The "blacksmith" works on a flattened slab of boiler-plate. Nail, a human who has forgotten how to speak below a shout, does the work with kinetic force and spite. They smash scrap metal into crude shanks, hooks, and climbing pitons using a massive, stone-headed maul. It takes three days of deafening, rhythmic banging to cold-forge a blade. Payment is made in blood, literally. Nail uses it to quench the iron, claiming it gives the edge a necessary thirst.

The Bank A dwarf named Grind is wedged into a structural fissure. He hasn't moved in a decade. He is slowly expanding into the gap, acting as a load-bearing pillar. He holds things for people in his massive, stone-like hands. If you want your items back, you bring him scrap iron so he can eat it and "fix his bones."

The Marrow Farm You can't bury the dead in solid, calcified trash. Instead, they are dragged to the dampest corner of The Clog and stacked. The pile is cultivated to grow a specific, pale, luminescent fungus. The "farmers" are a territorial pack of halflings, constantly chewing on the surplus bone. The fungus is the only reliable food source down here that isn't meat. It tastes like chalk and eating it gives you the waking nightmares of the person it sprouted from.

The Echo Chamber A hollowed-out iron sphere—perhaps an ancient, fallen boiler—wedged dangerously close to the edge of the abyss. Inside, it amplifies the micro-vibrations of the oubliette. A human named Listener sits in the absolute dark center. They are blind and have chewed off their own fingers to heighten their other senses. They can hear the structural groans of The Clog, the coalescing of goblins in the deep, and the shifting of the upper levels. If you need to know where it is safe to walk, or where the next drop will fall, you go to them. To pay for an answer, you must press your face to the metal wall and whisper a secret you have never told another living thing.

The Perimeter The edges of The Clog, where the floor gives way to the abyss. You don't sleep here. The goblins coalesce on the underside of the floor. They reach up over the lip in the pitch black and pull things down.

Why leave? (1d6)

1. The fat ran out. The lamps are dying. Without light, the Goblins will come over the edge. Someone needs to go down the nearest shaft and kill something big enough to render into oil.
2. The Seep stopped dripping. Something is blocking the pipe further up. It needs to be cleared before Gallows starts killing people to conserve what's left in his bucket.
3. A Halfling stole your boots. You tracked the grease-prints to a narrow ventilation duct. You'll have to crawl in. You can't turn around once you're inside.
4. A body fell from above. It hit the floor hard, bursting like a rotten fruit. It was wearing a pristine, steel breastplate. Four people are already fighting over it. You could be the fifth.
5. An Elf is bored. One of the ceiling-walkers has dropped down. It points a long, milky finger at you and demands you find it a memory worth keeping, or it will take yours.
6. The Clog is shifting. The floor groaned today. A crack appeared near The Bank. The plug is failing. You need to find a new floor before this one gives way.

A Few NPCs of The Clog