Bridges of the Grand Abyss
Bridges of the Grand Abyss generally connect a portal or fortress on Precipit to another on the opposite cliff face of Hag’s Rock, at about the same elevation. They’re a marginally safer way to cross the chasm than flying, which puts a cutter at the mercy of the wind, pot-shots from attackers on either cliff, and flying predators. Now, walking across a precarious bridge isn’t that much better, but at least you’ve got some kind of shelter from the ground beneath you. Still, it’s a brave basher who makes the journey out in the open from one side of the chasm to the other.
Maps of the Grand Abyss and its bridges can be found throughout the Great Wheel, but especially in the markets of Azzagrat and the citadel of Broken Reach on Pazunia. The latter are generally more reliable than the former, but none is wholly accurate.
There’s something else you should know about too, cutter. One rarely seen resident commands fear from all who know of his legend. This tanar’ri, a klurichir known as the Guardian of the Gates, haunts the bridge challenging those who would pass by them freely. The Guardian targets planewalkers and tanar’ri alike, attempting to follow its ancient binding instructions to rid the Grand Abyss of interlopers. A visit from the Guardian of the Gates usually results in utter destruction. Fortunately, however, there is but one Guardian and an infinite plane for him to defend…
Despite the dangers, because the portals of the Grand Abyss are so well known, the layer makes for one of the most heavily traveled highways in the plane, and a common destination for those hoping to plumb the lower depths of the Infinite Layers.
Now the bridges in the Grand Abyss ain’t just ways to cross—they’re statements. Each one is a monument to madness, malice, and the foul creativity of whatever pit-born power thought it a good idea to build something in a place where the very ground hates you. Every bridge has its own story, and none of them should be assumed to be safe. Here’s a few of the most infamous spans you might need to cross. Just remember though, sometimes the bridge ain’t for you—it’s for what’s waiting under it.
The Black Lattice
Forget planks and rope. The Black Lattice is a vast arch made from a web of interlocked black iron bars, like the innards of a cage that’s been torn apart and reassembled at random. There’s no clear path to follow. You climb. You crawl. You squeeze through gaps. The only light comes from flickering abyssal flames in the distance, and shadows dance across the bars like hands reaching for your throat.
Each bar is etched with infernal writing in a forgotten language. Some reckon it’s the names of escaped prisoners. Some say it’s their crimes or their sentences. Either way, if you run your hand along the bar, you might feel something stir under the iron, like fingers brushing your palm. Climbers say that if you press your ear to a bar, you’ll hear murmuring voices.
Sometimes, as you climb, you’ll see something scuttling toward you from below. Not a person. Not a beast. A mistake. Chant goes that berks who get put into the dead-book in the Lattice sometimes return to haunt it—their bones stretching into bars, their eyes peeking through the gaps. If you see a face in the iron, don’t talk to it. It’s too late for them, and if you stop it’ll be too late for you too.
Tip for Planewalkers: Keep moving. If you hear your own voice calling from behind you, it’s not you. It’s never you.
The Bridge of Teeth / The Maws’ Span
“One bridge. Two mouthes. Both of them are hungry.”
The Bridge of Teeth is exactly what it sounds like—a horrid tongue studded with sharp teeth and fangs. The tongue is stretched between two ugly demonic heads that protrude from the cliff faces. The two heads are very much alive, but entombed in the rock, presumably as some kind of punishment. They’ve been there for so long now that even they have forgotten why they’re there in the first place. The bridgehead on the Precipit cliff calls itself Ur’Thagg and the one on Hag’s Rock is Uk’Cham. At least, that’s the story they are going with at the moment. It’s like that old riddle, see. The problem is that Ur’Thagg always tells lies, while Uk’Cham… always tells lies as well. This is the Abyss after all, cutter.
If you want to cross the bridge then you can just walk over the tongue, it’s not like they can stop you. But they can certainly make things more difficult if they want, by flexing the tongue and gnashing the teeth. For that reason, most cutters who need to cross the bridge bring a bribe, well, two bribes really. The bridgeheads love to taste new flavours, so if you can impress them with something delicious then they’ll usually let you pass safely. Of course, being the Abyss and all what counts as ‘delicious’ may surprise you. Just make sure it’s something impressive so you don’t end up being gobbled up instead.
Once you’ve made your peace with the bridgehead and stepped out onto the disgusting bridge, you’ll see that the teeth are the size of tombstones, sharp-edged and uneven, with slick black gums gripping them. The bridge groans when you walk on it, a deep, guttural grrrrnnn that makes your chest rattle.
Tip for Planewalkers: Always move at a steady pace. Never hesitate, but also don’t run. Apparently it tickles, and you do not want to make one of the bridgeheads sneeze.
The Bridge of Trepidation
Location: Abyss / Layer 4—Grand Abyss / Upper Vorago
A rickety rope bridge slung across the chasm like a spider’s web in the wind. Flimsy though it may appear, somehow the bridge has never been damaged by debris or vandalism, though it’s rarely used by any but the bravest of cutters. That’s not only because it sway more than a drunken dabus, but it’s guarded by a trio of mummified trolls. Chant goes they’re really half-goristro and half-troll, because they’re twice as tall as your average prime troll, three times as vicious and despite being undead, only half as stupid. A garnish’ll get a cutter past them, though it’s usually a hefty price they demand.
This bridge seem to move around the Grand Abyss of its own accord. Or perhaps its being directed by some power or other. In any case, it has a habit of finding you, rather than the other way around. The mummified trolls? They’re just along for the ride.
The Brittle Bridge
Location: Abyss / Layer 4—Grand Abyss / Middle Vorago
In the Middle Vorago of the Grand Abyss, the infamous Brittle Bridge stretches across the chasm. It connects the gates of two Abyssal layers which are locked in eternal opposition: the scorching Caverns of Flame, domain of Garyx, and the frigid Iron Wastes, ruled by Kostchtchie.
Chant goes that the bridge was first created by an accident of dimensional magic, resulting in a bizarre structure that defies the laws of nature. The Furnace end of the bridge is bathed in searing heat, while at the other, it’s encased in biting frost. The constant battle between the extreme temperatures has rendered the bridge incredibly fragile. Planewalkers beware: To step onto the Brittle Bridge is to gamble with fate. [There’s a 10% chance that any 10-foot section will collapse underfoot, plunging the unwary into the infinite void below, Reflex save DC 30 to avoid.] Despite this, the bridge continually regenerates, mocking the efforts of those who would prefer to see it destroyed.
The Brittle Bridge is something of a battleground between the minions of Garyx and Kostchtchie. Frost giants and red dragons clash in a never-ending struggle for control of the bridge, each seeking to defend their territory from their hated enemies.
For the daring planewalker, crossing the Brittle Bridge offers a shortcut between two layers of the Abyss. However, like all shortcuts in this treacherous plane, it comes with considerable risk. Cutters who risk this path must plan a contingency in case of sudden collapses, cope with extreme temperature shifts, and endure potential ambushes from the warring factions.
Tip for Planewalkers: Adventurers are advised to bring equipment suitable for both extreme heat and cold. Magical means of flight or teleportation are highly recommended, in case of emergency.
The Chainwail
Imagine dozens of chain-links, each link as big as a house, stretching from one side of the chasm to the other. No planks. No walkways. Just links of iron so old that rust flakes off like dead skin. The whole thing sways in the wind, creaking with a metallic wail that echoes for miles. No one built it—it’s said to be the cast-off shackles of a forgotten—and presumably enormous—prisoner whose name was wiped from history. The prisoner’s long gone now, but the chains remain, as if still waiting for their captive to return.
Climbing across is a test of will and balance. You have to jump from link to link. If the wind shifts, the whole chain pitches sideways, and down you’ll go unless you’re quick with a hook or a handhold.
But here’s the dark: the Chainwail misses its prisoner and is lonely. Every few crossings, one of the chain links will open and snap closed like a jaw, sealing a berk inside it. [Reflex save at DC 30 to jump out of the way in time]. That person is never seen again, but if you listen closely, you’ll hear the echoing screams coming from within the metal for a short time, before they are abruptly cut short. So most folk pay the Chain’s “toll” by tossing in a few drops of their own blood before crossing. It doesn’t always work, but it makes you feel like you did something.
Tip for Planewalkers: Bring plenty of rope. Never cross alone. Bring an enemy. Make them go first.
The Flayed Bridge
At first glance, the Flayed Bridge looks like an artistic masterpiece. Colourful silk ribbons, fluttering in the air, light glowing through them like stained glass. Walk on it, and it even feels like silk, soft and warm. But it ain’t silk cutter. It’s skin. Stretched strips of flesh, some smooth, some hairy, some still twitching. Look close, and you’ll see tattoos and scars. The bridge is a collection of people’s skins, masterfully stitched and woven together. Better not ask where they come from, actually.
And if you see fresh blood on the ribbons, run. It means someone’s been sewn in recently and it’s possible the Tailor is still nearby. And you definitely don’t want to meet them. Chant goes they’re a modron hierarch that went barmy after getting very lost on a Great March many cycles ago. In their barmy programming they believe they need to maintain this bridge at all costs, keeping it ready for the next March. The Abyss has twisted their perceptions so they’ll now try to harvest fresh skin from any berk that comes their way, to patch up the structure. Most tragically of all, of course, the Great Modron March never crosses into the Grand Abyss in the first place…
Tip for Planewalkers: Whatever you do, don’t walk barefoot. I’m looking at you, halflings. If you leave footprints, the bridge will keep them. But even worse, about halfway across you’ll realise you’re walking but not moving forward any more, and then you’ll start to sink into the bridge. Once that curse activates, you’re gonna need some kind of magic to escape.
The Veinspan
Now this one’s a bridge in the same way a tumour is a “growth.” The Veinspan isn’t stone, wood, or metal—it’s living tissue. From one side of the chasm to the other, it stretches like a massive tendon, slick with an ever-present sheen of pus-like fluid. Veins throb visibly along its surface, pulsing to a slow, arrhythmic beat. No one knows where that heartbeat’s coming from, but cutters say if you stand on it too long, your own heart will try to match the rhythm. Some say that’s how the bridge claims you.
Stepping on it is even worse than you’d think. It yields underfoot, sagging with your weight. Walk slowly, and you’ll feel it twitch like it’s about to flex and toss you off. Run, and you’ll hear that wet, slapping noise as your boots stick to the surface with every step. And the smell—by the planes, the smell is unbearable. Rot, coppery blood, and something sour like old sweat.
Some say the bridge was ripped from some titanic demon lord that got pinned between layers of the Abyss. Others claim it’s alive in its own right, like a parasite feeding on despair of the chasm’s petitioners. Either way, it’s a hungry bridge. Folk who walk the Veinspan often find themselves growing faint by the time they get to the other side, pale and dizzy. Blood loss, they say. It takes a little from everyone. Sometimes more than a little.
Tip for Planewalkers: Wear gloves and boots soaked in powdered bone-dust to avoid the “cling.” When you’re crossing, don’t stop. If you start to hear voices, then you’re already in too deep.
Sources: Jon Winter-Holt and Layers of the Abyss — material adapted from the excellent netbook authored by Eli Atkinson, Will Church, Serge W. Desir Jr., Marley Sage Gable, John Harris, Sam Peer, Adam Silva-Miramon, Sean Surface
Author’s Note: I’ve deliberately left details vague on which gates or locations most of these bridges connect, so feel free to place the wherever you need for your story.