Eye for an Eye
The Unblinking City
Location: Abyss / Layer 6 – Eyenabella
An Eye for an Eye is a place that could be a fascinating stop for the very brave or the very foolish—your choice on which you are, berk. It’s a tangle of tunnels and passages, as unpredictable and capricious as the beholders themselves. Every curve and every cave is carved smooth with the meticulous precision of disintegration rays, an artistry of destruction that could be called beautiful if it weren’t so deadly. This ain’t like any burg you’ve seen before, it ain’t streets and corners, it’s a twisting, shifting labyrinth in three dimensions, with paths leading in every which way you can think of, and even in ways you can’t.
Now, what makes An Eye for an Eye stand out in the chaotic mess that is the Abyss is this peculiar truce among the beholders. It’s a sort of sacred ground, a place where they’ve all agreed to put aside their appetites and their rivalries for a spell. It’s an uneasy peace, mind you, the kind where everyone’s got one eye (or five) open at all times, waiting for the inevitable betrayal. But, for the time being, it holds. It’s like a truce between assassins; everyone’s agreed to hold off on the backstabbing… but keep your wits about you, because non-beholders are quite literally on the menu.
But oh, the wonders and the horrors that a cutter can witness there, it’s a sight to behold, pun intended. Beholders of all stripes and hues floating about, rubbin’ eyestalks with their kin without tearing each other apart. It’s something of a miracle really, a sight that defies everything we know about the bloodthirsty nature of beholderkind. But hey, everyone needs a break from constant murder and cannibalism, even eye tyrants, it seems. This is a city where ten thousand paranoid orbs, each convinced it’s the pinnacle of perfection, somehow resist blasting each other to ash with disintegration rays. You want to know why that is, eh? What dark secret binds them in this tenuous truce? Alright, cutter, listen close, ’cause this tale is old. No, it’s older than that. Perhaps even older than beholders themselves.
The Murmur of the Mother’s Name
The chant is that it all goes back to the Great Mother, that unfathomable matriarch of all beholders. Many think of her as a breeding pit of nightmares, a roiling mass of eyes and mouths on some unreachable layer of the Far Realm. But the beholders know different—or at least, they suspect. The truth, if it’s even truth, is that the Great Mother isn’t a being at all. She’s a conceptual presence—an ever-watching gaze that sees all beholders at all times. And in the Unblinking City, she’s closer than usual.
Deep in the heart of the city, beneath the Eye Sanctum at its core, there’s a single, ancient structure called the Viscid Oculus. It’s not a temple, not really. More like a cyst. A tumour of raw reality that looks like a sphere of obsidian, but its surface ripples like liquid when you stare too long. Beholders gather there, but none claim it as theirs. They hover at its edges, never touching it. Why? Because every beholder that gazes into it sees their own reflection staring back at them. And not a normal stare, mind you. No, this reflection stares deep into their souls. Now, nobody loves a staring contest as much as a beholder; in fact it’s the way these nasty pikes settle conflict without violence. But it’s only so long that a beholder can stare into the Viscid Oculus before they are forced to blink—closing every eye at once, which for a beholder is a humbling sign of submission and a signal that they have lost the contest. But the thing is their reflection does not blink back.
The common chant among beholders goes is that the reflection is the gaze of the Great Mother looking back at them. Eye tyrant prophecies say that if a beholder is able to win a staring contest with their reflection here, they are destined for greatness, perhaps even godhood. And this is why the narcissistic sods gather, so convinced in their own perfection that they reckon they can challenge the manifestation of their power.
But the real secret? That reflection isn’t coming from the Great Mother. It’s coming from something deep inside the Viscid Oculus. Something very much alive. Sone whisper that it’s what’s left of the First Beholder, the one that dreamed all the others into existence. Others reckon it’s the last piece of an Elder Eye from the early days of the Abyss. Whatever it is, it’s aware of them, and every beholder knows, in its heart of hearts, that if they break the truce and start killing each other near it, that thing will wake up. And if it wakes up, it won’t be Motherly.
So they don’t fight here. Not in the open, at least.
The Secret Nobody Will Admit
You want the darkest secret of them all? The beholders don’t maintain the truce because they’re afraid of each other. They maintain it because they’re afraid of themselves.
Every beholder knows, deep down, that if they let loose, if they truly allowed their paranoia to run wild, they’d destroy not just their rivals but themselves in the process. It’s not respect for some prophecy that keeps them from attacking each other—it’s terror. They are creatures of absolute self-certainty, but in the Unblinking City, that certainty cracks. If you spend too long here, you’ll feel it too. The countless eyes watching you, watching each other; assessing, judging, looking for weakness.
An Eye for an Eye ain’t a city of beholder cooperation. It’s a city of beholder self-doubt. And nothing is more dangerous than a monster who doubts itself. So remember, cutter, in this burg, you’re always one wrong step away from becoming dinner (or dust), so tread lightly and keep your frankly inadequate number of peepers peeled.
Source: Chris Nichols and Jon Winter-Holt. Canonwatch: This burg is a homebrew addition to beholder lore.
