Margaret St. Clair (1911-1995) is one of only three women writers included in Appendix N, alongside Leigh Brackett and Andre Norton. Despite her relative obscurity, even among dedicated fans, her influence permeates the foundations of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, particularly in dungeon design and the portrayal of the underground as a mythic and ominous otherworld. Notably, she introduced the term "Underearth," which served as a precursor to what would later be known as the "Underdark" and, arguably, the "Shadow Dark."
Among the lesser-remembered names in Gary Gygax's Appendix N, Margaret St. Clair stands out as a particular interest of mine. Although she is not discussed with the same reverence as Howard, Tolkien, or Lovecraft, her works have made a significant and enduring impact on Dungeons & Dragons and, at least my, conceptualization on fantasy witches.
I will examine the two works by St. Clair referenced in Appendix N.
The Shadow People (1969)
The Shadow People is distinctly a product of 1969 Berkeley, California, authored by one of the prominent women in science fiction at the time. Today, it would be classified as an urban horror-fantasy novel, though it was then considered part of the "counter-culture."
Set in late-1960s Berkeley, the novel follows a young man whose girlfriend is abducted not by a human, but by the Earth itself. Beneath the surface exists the Underearth, a hidden realm isolated from the ordinary world, where ancient beings have survived on a hallucinogenic grain. These beings, reminiscent of ergot's historical associations, have now developed a preference for human flesh. The protagonist ventures into this subterranean world to rescue her, encountering phenomena that challenge his perception of reality. The narrative unfolds as a continuous psychedelic experience, with the protagonist's journey into and out of the Underearth persistently destabilizing any sense of reality.
Despite its horrors, the Underearth exerts a compelling attraction, drawing individuals in and seldom allowing them to escape. The forces of good achieve only a partial and ambiguous victory, as the surface world has itself devolved into a dystopian surveillance society.
Why It's on Appendix N
The influence on Dungeons & Dragons is both significant and highly specific. The Shadow People introduces the "Underearth," a clear precursor to the Underdark. Its subterranean inhabitants are referred to as "elves," and the narrative also features "orcs" and "ettins." The novel presents an addictive hallucinogenic food called "atter-corn," a corrupted fungal grain that maintains the Underearth's residents in a perpetual dream state, reflecting the folkloric caution against consuming food in the faerie realm. St. Clair even cites Robert Kirk's 17th-century work, The Secret Commonwealth, a treatise on faeries, within the novel.
Readers familiar with early Dungeons & Dragons modules will recognize these parallels. The inhabitants of the Underearth, who exist in a perpetual haze due to hallucinogenic cornmeal, anticipate the Cynideceans of module B4: The Lost City, who experience a similar dreamlike state induced by a comparable substance. The novel's depiction of a prolonged descent into the Underearth appears to have influenced adventures such as D1-2: Descent into the Depths of the Earth. Additionally, the inclusion of an intelligent blade, the "word of Merlin," serves as an early example of sentient swords in Dungeons & Dragons.
The Shadow People contributed to the conceptualization of both the drow and the duergar, as well as to Dungeons & Dragons' enduring fascination with expansive underground labyrinths. Gygax maintained a strong interest in eerie fairy realms, and The Shadow People provided a notably distinctive portrayal of dark elves.
The narrative also evokes Richard Shaver's "I Remember Lemuria" and his depiction of the Deros. Given that St. Clair published in Amazing Stories, she was likely familiar with Shaver's work. There is a discernible lineage from Shaver to St. Clair to Gygax (well, and Shaver directly to Gygax, too).
St. Clair's Underearth closely resembles early European conceptions of fairy mounds as portals to the underworld, where faeries, ancient deities, and the spirits of the dead coexist. This represents a unique synthesis of European paganism as interpreted by later Christian communities, forming the same cultural foundation that inspired notions of Wicca, witches, and witchcraft.
Sign of the Labrys (1963)
This is a book I have sought after for a considerable time, and I was finally able to obtain a copy through inter-library loan.
Set in the aftermath of a global pandemic that has decimated the population, Sign of the Labrys centers on Sam Sewell, a survivor residing in an extensive subterranean shelter complex. Government agents suspect that Sam is living with Despoina, a woman believed to be involved in germ warfare, and they pressure him to locate her. Sam is compelled to descend through multiple levels of the shelter, uncovering a concealed world of witchcraft and secret rituals. This narrative structure evokes not only Campbell's Hero's Journey, but also the descents of Ishtar and Inanna into the underworld, as well as the Wiccan initiation rite.
As Sam progresses through the shelter, women enter and exit the narrative, consistently demonstrating greater awareness than he possesses. St. Clair intentionally subverts the conventional pulp narrative: Sam is not a proactive hero, but rather is portrayed as naive and reliant on others to discern his purpose. The women scientists he encounters, along with Despoina, are the true agents of understanding and resolution. Over time, Sam comes to recognize that his journey parallels a Wiccan initiation ritual.
Beneath the remnants of the old world exists evidence of an even more ancient one: a concealed realm that safeguards the pagan traditions of Wicca, purportedly tracing back to the Minoan mosaic chambers. As Sam searches for Despoina, the high priestess, he gradually rediscovers his own forgotten Wiccan identity, which ultimately becomes vital to humanity's renewal.
Thus, according to the novel, witches are essential for humanity's salvation. This theme is presented with considerable directness.
Why It's in Appendix N
Sign of the Labrys likely influenced Dungeons & Dragons through its depiction of underground, multi-level dungeon complexes. The shelter's successive levels, each increasingly strange and perilous, closely parallel the structure of the classic dungeon crawl. Role-playing game enthusiasts will recognize this as a precursor to Castle Greyhawk and its intricate, multi-level design interconnected by secret passages.
Witches and Witchcraft
This aspect is where Sign of the Labrys becomes particularly noteworthy. St. Clair stated that the novel was primarily inspired by Gerald Gardner's books on witchcraft, and her research led to a friendship with Raymond Buckland. St. Clair and her husband were initiated into Wicca three years after the novel's publication, at which point she adopted the Wiccan (craft) name Froniga.
Sign of the Labrys functions almost as an endorsement of Wicca. In the novel, Wicca is depicted not merely as a neopagan religion but as a source of genuine magical abilities. The narrative is replete with traditional pagan elements, such as athames and the use of "Blessed Be" as a greeting, and St. Clair incorporated ceremonial details from Gerald Gardner. Practitioners of Wicca in the novel possess various supernatural abilities, including clairvoyance and invisibility.
What distinguishes this novel for its time is the extent to which it portrays witchcraft as a means of survival. With civilization devastated by plague and the rational, bureaucratic order rendered obsolete, the Wiccans' underground community preserves knowledge, social cohesion, and a path forward. St. Clair's publication of Sign of the Labrys in 1963 predates the formal introduction of Gardnerian Wicca in North America, granting the novel considerable historical significance in the evolution of American Paganism.
Considered together, these two novels illustrate St. Clair's significance to Gygax. In both works, the underground serves as more than a backdrop; it possesses metaphysical significance, being perilous, alluring, transformative, and older than civilization itself. The subterranean realm is associated with secret knowledge, fairy traditions, and witchcraft. In both narratives, as in Campbell's Hero's Journey, the protagonist descends into these realms and emerges fundamentally changed.
Furthermore, the figure of the witch, whether explicitly named in Sign of the Labrys or implied in The Shadow People, occupies a central role in both narratives.
How does this relate to Dungeons & Dragons? The influence is evident in the concept of the dungeon as a series of increasingly strange levels, where deeper exploration leads to a breakdown of reality. Less apparent, but still significant, is the theme that magic—and witchcraft in particular—originates from an ancient, primal stratum of existence largely forgotten by the surface world. This provides a compelling lineage for the D&D witch.
This observation raises an important question: given the significance of Sign of the Labrys within Appendix N, as it is explicitly listed, why does Dungeons & Dragons lack a dedicated witch class?
--
One of the things that makes Margaret St. Clair so important here is not just that she writes about witchcraft, but that she grants it authority, and that authority is unmistakably female. In Sign of the Labrys, the women are not standing at the edges of the story waiting to be rescued, explained, or possessed. They are the ones who understand what is really happening. They preserve the rites, hold the knowledge, and carry forward the spiritual framework that survives when the modern world fails. Sam may move through the story as the reader's, but he is not its true center of wisdom. That belongs to the women, and especially to Despoina.
That is no small thing. In a great deal of fantasy and science fiction from the period, power still tends to flow through familiar channels: male adventurers, male scholars, male priests, male rulers. Women may be mysterious, alluring, or dangerous, but they are rarely allowed to be the custodians of the deeper truths of the world. St. Clair breaks from that pattern. Her women are not merely magical in a decorative sense. They are the ones who keep the old knowledge alive. They remember what the surface world has forgotten. They do not just practice ritual; they embody continuity.
This is where the witchcraft in St. Clair becomes more than color or atmosphere. It is not a handful of spooky props scattered across the page. It is a living structure of meaning, memory, and survival. In Sign of the Labrys, witchcraft is what endures when bureaucracy, technology, and the rational systems of the old order have all proven fragile. The world above may imagine itself modern, organized, and superior. However, the hidden, female-centered religious tradition below still knows how to make sense of catastrophe and guide renewal. That is a radical move, and a powerful one.
For a series like Witches of Appendix N, that matters enormously. St. Clair is not simply one of the few women on GygGygax's list; she is one of the few writers on the list who imagines feminine spiritual power as foundational rather than secondary. Her witches are not side characters in someone else's heroic narrative. They are the keepers of the flame while the rest of the world stumbles in the dark. If we want to talk seriously about witches in the imaginative roots of D&D, that is not a minor detail. It is one of the central things worth recovering.
While the multi-tiered "dungeons" and underground ecosystems certainly were vital to the early days of D&D, it feels odd that these were the only things kept from St. Clair's works. There was so much more here that could have also been used. Rather than speculate as to why, I'll just take the material that Gygax etal discarded for my own works.
