“Give Us Your Pants!”

True story: The party had a run in with a trio of bugbears during yesterday’s session who attacked them solely because they were jealous that the party owned pants when they themselves were pantsless.

I’d like to thank Otherworld Miniatures for putting this idea in the back of my head some time ago when they released their line of old school pantsless bugbears. I think I know what my next Otherworld purchase had to be now that I’ve completed my set of OW Hobgoblins.

A Giant Gift

My players are generous, engaging in acts that, although appreciated by me, might come back to haunt them. Case in point: The FLGS where we play each week has a display case filled with plastic minis. These figurines came from various miniature sets that have been broken down and sold individually so that the buyer can actually see what he or she is purchasing. In the last week, the store got a prodigious amount of Mage Knight sets in and the miniatures case has become flooded with odd, yet strangely intriguing pieces. Before last Sunday’s game, me and a few of the early arrivals were taking a look at these pieces and I commented that, although several of them, such as the steam-powered dwarven tank, would make excellent set piece encounters in the campaign, the $15-$20 price tags on the big models just weren't worth the one-time use I’d get out of them.

Despite my reservations, the guys really took a liking to one particular model—an “Iron Rain Hill Giant.” Standing a scale 20’ tall, the brute bears a giant axe as a weapon, but also has a boiler hanging on his back. A pair of helmeted dwarves ride on chairs strapped to the giant’s shoulders and are armed with what appear to be flamethrowers aimed outwards to guard the giant’s flanks. A third dwarf with horned helmet rides on the giant’s neck and seems to be steering him with a series of chain reins hooked through the brute’s eyebrows. It’s all very dangerous looking.

For reasons I’m still uncertain of, the guys took up a collection and bought it for me. They now want me to stat it up for Labyrinth Lord with the implication that they’ll fight it one day. As I said, they’re generous to a fault.

I certainly do appreciate the gesture. It tells me that they enjoy our weekly sessions together and all the hard work I put into making each game seem effortless. I just hope they still enjoy it when the Tijuana flamethrower-armed giant is making mincemeat of them someday…

Thanks, guys.

Cleopos the Porter

Zero Level Human

STR: 13 (+1 to attack, damage, and open doors)
DEX: 13 (-1 AC, +1 missile, +1 initiative)
CON: 13 (+1 hp)
INT: 10 (literate)
WIS: 8 (-1 save vs. spells)
CHA: 9

Hit Points: 6
Armor Class: 8
Loyalty (estimated): 9

Employer: Grumble Brokenaxe (+1 Inspire Loyalty bonus)
Terms of Employment: 2 gold marks per week plus an additional +1 gold piece per day in hazardous conditions (as determined by employer)

Languages: Common

Carries: Backpack, 2 waterskin, 1 wineskin, 10 days trail rations, hand axe, bedroll, old non-magic shield, silver candelabra, 2 crystal decanters, 4 crystal glasses.
Encumbrance: @42 lbs.

Objects of questionable value: None

Watchfires & Thrones Session #36

With almost a year under our belts, the guys know that I like to throw what I call a “spectacle game” every once and a while. Nothing gets them ready for a game better than to come in and find some special surprise set up on the game table, be it a city street, a cliffside cave, or a spinning maze of death. Since the theme of the campaign is the steady rise to power and influence, I thought it was time to both give the players a taste of mass battle and to pay homage to role-playing’s wargame roots. Thanks to the information provided in Night’s Dark Terror, this session saw the players taking on the roles of armchair generals. Everyone had a great time and it made a nice diversion from dungeon crawling—although they are anxious to get back to Stonehell.

Special thanks go to he who managed to get me a copy of the battle map from Night’s Dark Terror. I have the module in a second-hand, incomplete form and it was missing. I would have gladly paid the $5.00-$10.00 for a PDF of the module and just printed out the maps from that, enriching the coffers of Hasbro a little, but they still remain convinced that hoarding the PDFs of their products makes the best business sense. I think I’ll go buy a Pathfinder PDF on general principle.

As the gates of the barbican slammed shut behind them, the party beheld a young woman with a face streaked by soot and whose hand clenched a bare dagger in a white-knuckled grip. From the roof overhead came the leather-clad man as his zipped down a ladder to the ground below. The smell of smoke grew as the first flames began to spread from the burning barn to the wooden gatehouse in which they stood. The man pointed across the muddy courtyard before them, indicating a two-story hall and hearth made of stone and timber. “Run!” he cried, indicating the stout oak door that stood in the face of the main hall.

As the party crossed the courtyard they could see a three-story stone tower attached to the hall that peered down at them with crenellated eyes. To their left, the settlement’s barn was now an inferno and the palisade that connected it to the tower and gatehouse was a sheet of flame. From out of the smoke came more high-pitched cries and a half-dozen goblins charged through the flames and smoke to cut off the party’s run to safety. Green-skinned and clad in crimson from head to foot, the chittering humanoids were thirty for blood and battle.

While the man and woman continued their run towards the hall’s main door, the rest of the party angled to meet their attackers. Lyrax fired the first of what would be many arrows that night, taking down two of the attackers with arrows through the throat. Raijek’s crossbow dropped a third, and Baragkus, Grumble, and Mars Markus made fast work of the remaining three. With their assailants dead, the rest of the party reached the hall and the warriors held a quick debate over whether they should hold their ground or let themselves be bottled up in the (possibly flammable) hall. Grumble, Mars, Baragkus, and Fisk decided to hold the line while Lyrax, Raijek, Korlack, and Kaldar headed inside to take position atop the stone tower that kept watch overhead.

As the courtyard warriors prepared to dispatch the next wave of goblins, they heard more screaming coming from the smoke around them. The sooty clouds parted briefly to reveal ten wolf-riding goblins racing their way. Then, the slavering fangs and serrated blades of their enemies were upon them.

After Grumble was bitten and stabbed, and Mars Markus took a serious wound, the fighters determined this was one melee they had little chance of winning. Their own attacks had only slightly injured the massive wolves and the goblins’ spears were all too sharp. Mars and Fisk broke and ran through the hall door while Grumble and Baragkus covered their retreat. The spider cleric and hired fighter reached the hall just as the panicked inhabitants of the settlement were closing it, stout locking bar held at the ready. A cry of warning was shouted and the dwarf and fighting man in the yard retreated with haste, taking more wounds as they turned to run. Despite these new injuries, they dove into the hall just before the door was sealed and barred against the invaders.

Inside the rough timber hall, the party made the acquaintances of “Fort” Wolf’s Head’s residents: Pidar, the patriarch of the clan, his wife, Darya, his 10 winters-old son, Matthias, and their aging manservant, Steg. Also in attendance was the weeping, recently widowed, Masha, and her infant daughter. The young couple they had met at the gatehouse was Tars, Pidar’s eldest son, and his wife, Allana. Pidar’s mother, Kumuk and her granddaughter, Irina, were also in the settlement, but were currently cloistered in their room in the tower above.

Pidar explained that two tribes of goblins had attacked the settlement at dusk, striking from out of the woods without warning. There seemed to be two distinct tribes: the orange-skinned wolf riders and the green-skinned, crimson-clad goblins. This attack was one of several which had occurred along the frontier over the last two days. Pidar was hopeful that with the party’s help, the settlement could hold out until dawn, at which time it was likely that the sun-hating goblins would slink back to their lairs. With this information in their possession, the party began making preparations for the long night ahead of them.

Mars originally suggested that everyone retreat to the tower for fear of the goblins torching the hall. But the tower would be a perfect death trap in the goblins broke in so fortifying the hall was undertaken as the next best option. Tables and chairs where broken up to barricade three of the main building’s entrances while the armory was opened and stripped of arrows. Lyrax and Raijek ascended to the tower’s roof to keep an eye on the goblins. Once there, they discovered that full night had fallen and the wan light from the crescent moon mixed with the smoke pouring from the now-charred remains of the barn, gatehouse, and palisade provided limited visibility. In the woods to the north and east they could see a score of small campfires burning, the shadowy bodies of goblins passing in front of these blazes with great frequency. The sound of drumming and chants filled the night air as the goblins prepared for their next attack.

In the hall below, the party hustled the settlement’s non-combatants down to the tower’s secured lower storeroom. The rest of the family was armed with bows and slings, and then stationed about the building to overlook the north and south courtyards. Baragkus dragged the hall’s largest chair to in front of the main door and sat with sword in hand to wait the inevitable attempt to break in. Kaldar and Korlack kept watch from the hall’s second story on the courtyard to the south. Grumble and Mars took up position in the tower armory, but not before learning that Pidar’s mother was a cleric of the Sovereign Flame when she healed the spider priest of his wounds. Fisk prowled the halls, a free safety ready to run where needed.

An hour after dark, those on the tower found themselves under attack by goblin snipers, slingstones smashing against the stone walls and battlements surrounding them. The darkness and cover made missile fire difficult for both sides, but when Grumble’s shortbow finally picked off one of the hidden snipers, the barrage of slingstones fell quiet.

As the night crept closer to midnight, the sound of drums ceased and a stillness filled the air. Then, from out of the gloom came a charge of goblins. Two wolf-riders led a half-score of infantry across the wooden bridge as another ten skulked through the shadows to take up position in the smoking ruin of the barn. As the wolf-riders and their soldiers laid siege to the hall’s kitchen door (which had been barricaded stoutly), the barn-hiding goblins began letting loose a fusillade of slingstones at any visible defender.

Lyrax dropped a pair of flaming brands into the courtyard, which allowed the defenders in the tower and those in the room above the kitchen to see their targets easily. Lit by the flames, the two worg-riders found themselves under concentrated attack by missile fire and they only managed to strike the door a few times before they fell to ground dead. Their underlings’ morale broke upon their deaths and they fled for the bridge that brought them.

Korlack rushed to one window, taking a vicious hit from a slingstone when he revealed himself. With his lack of protective armor, the warlock paused to wonder why it was that the plate-mail clad spider cleric was the one positioned behind an arrowslit while he was put on window detail. Deciding enough was enough; the sorcerer turned and entered the tower, finding shelter with Kumuk and Irina. The matronly cleric took pity on the injured magic-user and used her last curative spell to heal him.

Kaldar, despite seeing what happened when Korlack revealed himself, cautiously worked his way to a window that overlooked the barn below. Conjuring up a magical slumber, the elf took out most of the hiding goblins and the barrage of slingstones dropped off to a patter. Unfortunately, one of these stones struck Allana, knocking the woman senseless.

With most of the goblin slingers asleep, the defenders were able to concentrate their attacks on the few remaining snipers and it wasn’t long before they too fled back into the darkness. Raijek and Fisk went out to quickly dispatch the slumbering goblins.

The party took the opportunity to further shore up their defenses after this attack, plundering iron stock from the settlement’s forge to lay a series of obstacles about the hall. The unconscious Allana was turned over to Kumuk to attend to, and new positions were taken up around the hall. There came a period of anticipation an hour later when the drums again stopped, but they resumed after a half hour’s pause. The goblins were well-versed in psychological warfare.

It was deep into the night, midnight several hours behind them when the next attack came. Grumble, Lyrax, and his dog companion stood on the tower roof, watching the woods around them. Grumble’s bushy ears detected the sound of great leathery wings in the air above, and the dwarf glanced up to see three warm bodies dropping out of the night sky to attack. Within moments, the rooftop trio found themselves under siege by giant vampire bats!

Meanwhile, down in the hall, Kaldar’s keen ears detected the sound of breaking glass. He cautiously crept forward with bow in hand…

Back on the roof, the first bat landed atop Lyrax’s dog, delivering a painful bite and causing the canine to begin twitching and frothing out the mouth before falling motionless. Grumble and Lyrax glanced at each other and mouthed “Poison” as they fought against the flying menaces, now with a heightened sense of fear.

In the corridor below, Kaldar peered around a corner to see two more of the giant bats awkwardly climbing through a broken window. “Crickey!” he cried. “Look at the size of those beauties!” That was enough to draw Baragkus’ attention and the so far unneeded fighter dashed up the stairs to take on these new foes. Unfortunately, Kaldar’s cries also attracted the attention of Darya who had been stationed in the room across from where the bats entered. As she opened the door to see what was amiss, one of the creatures launched itself at her and the two combatants stumbled back into the room out of sight.

Up on the roof, Grumble managed to dispatch one of the bats, but the remaining two put up a stiffer fight. The dwarf took a bite for his efforts, but was able to resist the bat’s paralytic enzymes. Lyrax’s arrows dropped a second bat just as Grumble launched a flurry of axe swings at his own opponent. With a solid “thunk,” the axe met meat and the flying assailants were dispatched completely. In the hall below, Baragkus made short work of the bats with his great sword, but not before Darya had succumbed to the bite of the bat and fell into a deep coma. She too joined the unconscious Allana under Kumuk’s care.

Dawn was fast approaching and the defenders, although tired, found their spirits on the rise. Just another hour or two and victory would be theirs. They were injured, half-delirious with exhaustion, and completely out of spells, but the sun would be their salvation. It was with these thoughts in their heads that the sound of drums stopped one final time.

To the east, Lyrax and Grumble saw a horde of goblins appear at the tree line, a score and a half in all. Great, tall ladders were held in their green hands and they stared with undisguised menace at the unprotected windows along the halls’ eastern flank. With one last chant, the mass of goblin attackers charged out of the woods and headed towards the hall.

Lyrax and Grumble began firing at the charging horde, with the human archer cutting down goblins like a scythe. Arrow after arrow connected to send his targets falling to the ground to be trampled by their comrades. Grumble kept up a steady rain of death as well, and soon found himself to be on the last of his arrows.

Inside the hall, the defenders scrambled to meet the goblin charge. Kaldar and Raijek bravely fought against the first of the goblins to reach the wall while Mars and Fisk raced down the stairs to support them. Korlack, with no spells remaining, grabbed a sling and pouch of stones to join Grumble and Lyrax on the tower. Baragkus remained seated near the main door, suspecting this might be a feint.

As the goblin ladders were thrown up against the walls, the party found themselves locked in one last, desperate melee. Goblins were cut down as they topped the rungs, ladders were pushed away to send their climbers falling to their deaths amongst the horde below, and all the while, Lyrax, Grumble, and Korlack continued to rain destruction down upon the screaming masses. Under their hellish hail, more than half the goblin’s numbers perished within the shadow of the hall’s eastern wall. Grumble unleashed his last arrow before throwing his bow at a goblin’s darting head and then rushed down the stairs to join the melee.

Several of the goblin attackers managed to clamber through an unguarded window and stabbed at the unarmored Raijek while others clashed with the armored form of Mars. Down on the hall’s ground floor, Baragkus finally heard what he had been waiting for—the sound of axes hacking at the main door. Gripping his sword in hand, he took up position next to the barricaded portal, Pidar joining him on the other side. After thirty seconds of hewing away at the valve, the door gave to admit a trio of the largest goblins Baragkus had ever seen, each clad in crimson and led by a battle-axe swinging warlord. The fighting man clashed with the humanoid potentate as Pidar slashed at one of his henchmen. Raijek abandoned the battle upstairs to bolster the defenses at the front door as Grumble arrived from the tower.

Outside, the last of the goblins perished under Lyrax’s arrows and the scattered numbers inside the hall were cut down by Kaldar, Mars, Fisk, Grumble, and Tars. The last goblin stared at the steel wall arrayed before him…and dived out an open window to land on the hard ground below with the sound of snapping bones. Struggling to his feet, he limped away, straining to reach the safety of the forest. Lyrax nocked one last arrow and sent it barreling through the goblin’s chest, dropping him to the muddy ground with one arm still outstretched towards the forest’s gloomy sanctuary.

In the main hall, Baragkus and the goblin leader remained locked in battle. One of the goblin’s bodyguards moved to flank the towering fighter while the other pressed his assault against Pidar. The clan patriarch lost his footing on the blood-streaked planks of the floor…and his goblin opponent ran him through with his blade, dropping the stout frontiersman to the cold, bloody floor, dead. With his host slain, Baragkus went into a rage and started to hack through the goblin king’s defenses. Raijek arrived just in time to stem off the bodyguards’ counteroffensive.

Moment later, the goblin king’s head sailed across the hall, tumbling to a halt in a dusty, forsaken corner of the room; his bodyguards fell dead in the doorway soon after. The defenders were victorious!

As the sun rose above the trees, the party stared wearily about at the destruction surrounding them. This would just be the beginning of their quest to end the hobgoblin threat to the Uncertain Lands.

Recaps will resume in two weeks. See you then!

Fighting Man Joey Ramone Says...

"No recap this week. Mike's got a bunch of stuff to do and can't spare the time to put one togther. Besides, he says last game's events all ties in with what happens next Sunday and doesn't want to ruin any suprises. All will be explained next time. Gabba Gabba Hey!"

Watchfires & Thrones Session #25

The party, now safely back at the Mad Manor, began casting about for rumors relating to the revival of the recently dead. Having spent a sizable fortune on returning Mock to life, they needed a cut-rate solution to their dead Grumble problem. Luckily for them, they heard a tale about a ruined monastery just down the river from Blackpool. They bribed a local fisherman to take them downstream to the base of the rocky promontory upon which the Groaning Ruins stood and, before long, found an entrance into the catacombs below.

Anwar had taken the precaution of turning himself invisible the night before the party left for the ruins. However, always a team player, he was more than willing to continue being the party torch-bearer and mapper. This lead to the inclusion of a floating torch to the party’s ranks and a miniature-less base to the party’s figures on the battle map. His role as torch-bearer would be short lived, however, when Fanta gave him grief about his chosen role and Anwar thrust the flaming brand into the Old Blood’s hand.

For the sake of complete disclosure, I must now reveal that this week was a busy one and I didn’t have the time to craft the entire session’s adventure from scratch. Standing in for my own imagination was James Maliszewski’s “The Ruined Monastery” from Fight On! #1. James has been kind enough to use parts of Stonehell Dungeon in his Dwimmermount campaign; it’s only fair that I return the favor. There be spoilers ahead…

Down in the catacombs, the party found a crumbling meditation chamber, its wall scarred by the excavations of previous adventuring bands and other less seemly creatures. A band of ravenous rats scurried forth to defend their lair once the party moved into the chamber but, aside from an unfortunate nip suffered by Krunk, the rodents were swiftly dispatched. A search of the chamber turned up a tarnished candelabra and the 2’ tall wooden statue of the goddess, Amencia. The statue seemed to have put to one side and then forgotten, and, although it was not crafted from precious metals, the party decided to drag it along with them. A wise decision as it would turn out.Past the meditation chamber lay a circular room with a sunken pool. The basin was filled with dirty water and the floor and walls of the room were covered by a massive colony of that pernicious dungeon threat, green slime. This led to some humorous arguing by the party. The metagaming faction posed that there had to be treasure in the pool—the presence of the green slime as a barrier could mean nothing else. The other faction argued that they weren’t going to mess around with the stuff but if the metagaming thinkers wanted to do so, that was fine by them. A dead rat was tossed into the pool and a crowbar slightly dissolved before the party left the room behind them, unexplored.

The winding corridors brought the party to a barrel-making woodshop, a place where the monks made containers for their wine (“This is a monastery! You know what monks keep in their cellars?” exclaimed Anwar, the Diet Coke of Evil™, at one point.). Upon entering this cave, the demihumans chose to examine the area with their infravision and kindly asked the Fanta and the invisible Anwar to outside and down the hall so that the torch Fanta carried would not spoil their infravision.

As the rest of the band scouted the cave, the two magic-users stood waiting to be called back into the company of their armored companions. As they did so, the sounds of padding feet was heard from directly behind them. Turning around, the two found themselves staring at the leanest, largest-headed wolf they had ever glimpsed. The beast growled and leaped towards Fanta, as he was the only visible target.

Fanta was lucky enough to fire of a magic missile, but the bolt inflicted only minor damage upon the beast. The wolf counteracted with the lightest of nips and the fight took on a certain mincing quality as the melee turned into more of a slap-fight than brawl. This continued until Krunk and Waren, alerted by the sounds of battle, arrived to put down the beast. A search of its corpse turned up a crude leather collar around the wolf’s neck. Somebody owned this thing.

Pressing on through the treasure-free workshop, the party found themselves back in the winding halls of the catacombs. A short distance away from the workshop stood an unusual section of corridor. In a wide alcove stood a stone pedestal, bare of any decoration. Immediately, the party decided to place the wooden statue atop the podium to see if that had any effect. Upon doing so, Hoover’s keen ears caught the sound of grinding stone coming from somewhere to the north. The party headed in that direction.

A choice of passages presented itself and the band continued northwards, coming out in a ruined scriptorium. The shelves had collapsed, a pool of inky water covered the floor, and the ceiling looked as if collapse was imminent. A pile of fuzzy yellow books stood in the corner, inviting exploration, and Hoover, Waren, and Anwar headed towards that while the rest poked the black water with their pole. Hoover, clutching his specially-built, collapsible 10’ pool in hand, extended the rod and prodded the pile of ancient texts. The piled collapsed and a gout of yellow mold spores erupted in a fatal cloud. A cloud with a 10’ radius. It seems they make poles that long simply for this kind of an event and the party escape unharmed from the deadly spores.

The inky pooled turned out to be exactly that: ink from the scriptorium mixed with rainwater. At this point, the party was ready to return back to their choice of passageways, but a small cadre decided to check a northern alcove for secret passages. As they did so, the remaining party found themselves accosted by another one of the large-headed wolves who appeared on the far side of the inky pool. Charging at Hoover, the wolf was almost sent flying into the pile of killer books, but ranger’s shield bash/deflection maneuver failed. It was a good try, though, and a reminder that just because the rules don’t have feats or explicit rules to adjudicate something like that doesn’t mean it’s not allowed. In fact, it’s even encouraged by yours truly. The rest of the party rushed from the alcove and the wolf was swiftly slain.

With the scriptorium a bust, the party did indeed return to where the passages diverged and followed the wider of the paths. This brought them to another crossroads and a prolonged discussion about which way to go. All the time, I was snickering and shaking my head (“My blood pressure goes up when you do that, Mike”), for their choice in this matter determined whether or not we’d be able to conclude the day’s adventure in a single session or extend it to next week. I fully expected the longer choice to be made, but Krunk’s insistence that something was to be found to the north took the party that way.

There, some of the party found an opened secret door; the rest were unable to comprehend that a passage existed. Despite efforts to physically guide them into the concealed passage, only three of the band possessed the proper philosophical outlook to pass through it. In the chamber beyond, a slain monk with an ancient key was found (and looted). While this was occurring, the rest of the party had a run in with slinking spiders. The poisonous predators were overcome, the party reunited, and deeper they went into the catacombs.

Another intersection was encountered and could have derailed the “Let’s get this done by 4 PM” train, but the party detected a faint light coming from one tunnel, so the invisible Anwar was sent down the corridor to discover what was causing it. From around a corner, the turban-wearing sorcerer caught sight of a cowled figure attempting to open a stout iron door. A quartet of skeletons stood at rapt attention, their empty eye sockets focused on the entrance to the chamber. The mage tiptoed back to the party to make his report.Preparing for battle, the party moved down the corridor as quiet as they could, but the clanking and jingling of their armored fighters alerted the cowled figure. “Dispatch whoever is making that noise,” he commanded and the skeletons rushed around the corner and into the party’s line of sight—and immediately spun back around and fled under the effects of two clerics’ turning attempts. The party followed in the wake of the running bones.

Confronted by the party, the cowled figure commanded them to go elsewhere and leave him be. He had as much right to be in the catacombs at they did. Fanta approached to negotiate and get a better view of the locked door, suggesting that the party’s mages might be of assistance in opening that portal. With both sides planning to betray the other as soon as possible, a truce was forged—and immediately broken by Krunk’s sword. The cleric put up a token defense before succumbing to the party’s attacks. The skeletons were herded out of the chamber by Aieglos and Waren, and the party discovered that the key Fanta had found did indeed unlock the heavy iron door, reveling a spiral staircase beyond.

The party proceeded down the stairs, descending deeper and deeper into the earth until they passed the 150’ mark. There, the stairs emerged from the roof of a tremendous cavern, its center holding a circular labyrinth. From their vantage point on the stairs, they could see there was a red glow emanating from the middle of the maze.

At the bottom of the stairs, the party approached the labyrinth’s entrance. Walls of 10-foot height, crafted of brass, composed the maze. It was decided that Anwar, being still invisible, would enter the maze and try to reach its center, for that was there the party believed they would find the goddess’ blood. Tapping carefully ahead of him, the sorcerer stepped into the labyrinth.The sorcerer soon discovered that the labyrinth had a strange property: every time he moved, a horrible groaning arose (thus giving the ruins its name) and the two innermost sections of the maze turned at different speeds, alternating the maze’s layout. Despite this constant motion, Anwar could not foresee any difficulty reaching the maze’s center, provided he had enough time. Which, of course, was not about to be given to him.

As he closed in on the blood’s resting place, there was a sudden clap of thunder and Anwar caught the glimpse of an animated suit of armor appearing atop a glowing rune carved at one of the labyrinth’s dead ends. This constructed guardian made its way toward the magic-user, seeming to be in no way affected by his invisibility. Luckily, every time the animated armor moved, so did the maze. Even its guardians affected the labyrinth’s layout.

A cat-and-mouse game quickly evolved between the magic-user and the animated armor, with Anwar getting close to the center of the maze. There, he could see a blood-red gem floating at eye level and glowing with a crimson light. His move to snatch up the bauble was thwarted when the gem’s guardian suddenly stood in his path thanks to a turn of the wheel. To make matters worse, there was another crack of thunder and a killer frog appeared in the maze and began to hop towards the mage.

Now surrounded, Anwar moved to escape the labyrinth while Rondo Fleagle, seeing both the mage in danger and the only sizeable treasure so far discovered, entered the maze. With now four creatures moving about, the labyrinth was in constant motion. Sections of it became veritable turntables, whisking the adventurers and the maze’s guardian past one another with barely enough time to exchange blows. Anwar found himself boxed in during one of the maze’s rotations, flanked by both the deadly frog and the sword-wielding suit of armor. Both struck at the sorcerer and succeeded in bringing the now very visible mage to Death’s door.

With Anwar downed and the guardians’ attention on his now-recumbent form, Rondo was able to charge through the middle of the labyrinth, snatching the gem from the air. This attracted the guards’ attention. At the same time, there was another thunderclap and an albino ape appeared in the maze, sniffing about for prey.

With their own members outnumbered, the party took action to try and rescue them (or at least the gem). Aieglos climbed up the stairs to try and pepper the guardians with arrows, but discovered that an invisible barrier prevented his missiles from hitting inside the maze. Hoover and Krunk entered the maze to try and take some of the heat off Rondo and to pull the bleeding Anwar to safety. With so many intruders inside, the labyrinth spun even more, increasing the chance of more guardians appearing. And appear they did. In short order, a zombie was summoned, followed by a second killer frog, a pair of stirges, and even one of the dreaded Tomb Herd. Things were looking poorly for the party.

A lucky turn of the maze, however, brought Rondo and Hoover close to one another and the dwarf, aided by the ranger, leapt to safety. Meanwhile, Krunk was trying to reach the unmoving Anwar with the guardians closing in. Another revolution of the wheel brought the near-dead mage past Hoover and Rondo, but he sped past too quickly for either to grab him. Waren stepped towards the mouth of the labyrinth as the zombie approached Hoover and Rondo and managed to turn it…but another revolution or two of the maze had the repulsed zombie fleeing back towards the duo. The two took it down as it reached out to attack them.

Krunk was meanwhile dodging the guardians and reached Anwar. Throwing the magic-user over his shoulder, he carefully maneuvered himself. Having by now figured out how the maze rotated and what to expect, Krunk stepped just enough to get himself lined up for a fast run for safety. As the labyrinth spun one more time, the berserker weaved his way down a twisting path and jumped free of the spinning maze. Free of the shifting pathways and bearing the relic they came to acquire, the party fled the cavern. A quick but cautious journey back through the catacombs brought them back to daylight in time to meet their ride at the dock. They headed back upriver, intent to bring Grumble back from the grave…

Buggus

Buggus

No. Enc.: 3d4 (2d8)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 120’ (40’) fly 180’ (60’)
Armor Class: 6
Hit Dice: 1+1
Attacks: 1 (bite)
Damage: 1d4
Save: F1
Morale: 7
Hoard Class: None
XP: 21

These oversized bugs can resemble any manner of normal insect grown to dog-sized stature or larger and possessing carapaces with an iridescent sheen. Not to be confused with other giant insects such as beetles, flies, and locusts, buggus are the product of their underworld diet instead of a species unto themselves. Feeding on the strange fungi found beneath the earth’s surface, normal pests can grow to tremendous size, especially when their fungal diets have sprouted near rich vaedium deposits. The eerie radiations that give the buggus their size also grants them a 25% resistance to magic. Buggus attack in swarms, often overwhelming their prey with unending waves of their chittering and susurring bodies.

The same shopping trip that netted me the toy snail that became the bale snail also resulted in two tubes of plastic bugs marketed as educational tools. Having watched Peter Jackson's remake of King King KONG a few weeks before this game session, I decided that a swarm of oversized bugs was needed and promptly dropped them into the caves the party was exploring.

Ocythoids

A great deal of knowledge concerning the weird, cuttlefish-faced race known as the ocythoids has been lost over the centuries, and what remains is mostly rumor and speculation. Sages agree that these enigmatic creatures dwell upon the Rotted Moon, having built their cities there in some half-remembered aeon. Once powerful sorcerers, ocythoids have forgotten much of their ancestors’ art, but what they retain is more potent than the magics Man currently wields. They are a decedent species, one known to indulge in slavery and other cruelties which they enjoy inflicting upon lesser beings (a.k.a. everything else). As diverse as any sentient race when it comes to plots, ploys, and stratagems, it is almost impossible to divine what any singular member of the kind might be engaged in when encountered away from their shattered home world.

Watchfires & Thrones: Session #9

The adventurers returned to the gore-streaked refectory where they had ended their previous expedition into the undercroft of the pyramid. Doors in the southern and eastern walls waited to be breached and, having long ago decided that when all choices seem equal to go left, the party entered the southern door.

Opening this valve unleashed a horrific stench of putrescence, one so foul that Baragkus was overwhelmed by the almost physical odor and vomited his recently-consumed meal of trail rations upon the slimy flagstone floor. The room beyond contained a rotted kitchen—one decorated by rotting mortal remains. In the far corner, a gaunt, fanged creature gnawed upon the maggot-infested arm of a man. It leaped up and streaked towards the party with leonine agility and speed, but was brought down by two well-placed arrows to the throat and head before it could close the gap. A careful search of the horrendous kitchen uncovered a leather bag filled with many electrum shekels concealed in the rancid oven and a small, much-flawed diamond amongst the broken crockery.
Returning to the refectory, the party investigated the chamber beyond the eastern door and found a dusty dormitory. The room had already been tossed, and the pallets and footlockers were empty and much distressed. A door stood in the southern wall of the chamber, its wooden surfaced gouged by skeletal claws and ragged nails, but still intact. A path in the dusty floor led from that door to the one through which the party had entered, but even Kyrinn’s skill at tracking was insufficient to identify the marks. Nevertheless, he was able to ascertain that they were not created by boot-shod feet.

Failing to turn up anything of interest in the chamber, the adventurers moved to that southern portal and Baragkus, with great impetuousness, forced the door open without care. As it swung ajar, the party watched in horror as a small blue-black crystal fell to the stone floor before them. A nearly invisible wire had held it in place between the door and the jam. The crystal shattered on impact and a concussive blast and flash of blinding light swept over the party. The first two ranks of the group took the brunt of the blast and both Kyrinn and brash Baragkus were knocked senseless by the explosion.

The chamber beyond was once the quarters of two of the temple’s priests and contained the normal array of bedsteads, chests, and closets. Rugs were rolled against the wall as if to clear passage to the door that stood in the far wall of the room. The adventurers rightfully deduced that the sound of the concussive blast would have alerted whoever was lurking beyond that door so, after making sure that Kyrinn and Baragkus were still living, the fighting men took position up before the door.

Mars Markus yelled for the inhabitant of the room to come forth less he, she, or it wished to face the “twenty men we have here” in combat. Silence was the only answer.

Having given fair warning, the party moved into action. Finding the door locked, they tried the ring of keys they discovered in the pyramid above and managed to unlock the portal. However, the door was barricaded and it took both Domdull’s and Syl’s combined efforts to break open the door—which unfortunately left them in a vulnerable position against the creature who lay in ambuscade.

The chamber was a workroom of sorts. Tables littered with shards of crystal, odd colored sands, snips of wire, glowing rods, chips of stone, and weird tools occupied much of the room. It was the purple-robed thing that stood in the distant corner which occupied the charging adventurers’ attentions, however.
Its face was a wriggling mass of tentacle-like feelers and milky white, pupil-less eyes glared at the intruders. In its many arms were serrated blades and a small rod-like weapon. As the door opened under Domdull’s and Syl’s attack, the creature’s facial feelers drew an intricate pattern in the air and a blast of cold, raw power swept over the front ranks. Syl was struck motionless and half-blocked the doorway, but the others shrugged off the incantation.

Domdull charged forward into the room while arrows and eldritch bolts flew from the back ranks to strike their weird target. Rynn the dog rushed in on Domdull’s heels to join the fray.
The creature coldly pointed the short rod at Domdull’s chest and a violent explosion threw a glowing bolt at the fighter, but it whistled harmlessly past the fighter’s ear to impact on the wall behind him. As the fighter and hound closed the distance, the creature seemed to weigh his choices before his tentacles twitched again and a glowing 10’ x 10’ portal opened in the air beside him. Through the eldritch doorway, night-shrouded ruins were visible and the party’s strange foe moved to step through the arcane doorway to whatever place lay beyond.

Domdull threw himself at the creature in an attempt to tackle it to the ground, but it sidestepped the fighter on many tentacle-like feet, causing the dim-witted warrior to crash into the worktable and collide with a chest that sat beneath its wooden surface. Rynn the dog snapped at the robe-clad monstrosity without success and a barrage of missiles tried to stop its flight, but all were unsuccessful. The creature vanished and the party watched as the portal silently closed in its wake.

Although this creature inspired many questions, they were insufficient to keep the party from quickly dismantling the room and taking anything and everything which might have some value. A large bath-like basin occupied one section of the room and, although it was too large to haul away, a sample of the silver syrup which filled it was taken. The chest which had been discovered by Domdull’s head was pulled out from underneath the worktable and its surface, crafted from an odd unrecognizable metal, was considered. A simple latch held the lid shut but eight ½” holes were drilled into the lid and had no easily identifiable purposed. Domdull attempted to open it by striking it with his sword, but the blade just bounced off the latch—and left the strange metal unmarred. Tigir stepped up and flicked the latched open—after all, it seemed simple enough—only to feel a sharp pain as the poison pin it concealed slid into his flesh. After ten minutes of convulsions, the sorcerer expired on the cold floor, proving that if the referee takes the time to draw a picture of the chest and indicate its features, it’s most likely trapped and should be approached with caution.

Now disarmed at great cost, the chest was opened to reveal a sizable cache of silver, gold, and platinum. While the gold and platinum were of local minting, the silver coins were each octagonal and bore the regal visage of a tentacle-faced creature of the same ilk as the one which had just departed the chamber by mystical means.

With all the chamber’s secrets unveiled, the party briefly debated the wisdom of submerging Tigir’s lifeless corpse in the vat of silver syrup, but the majority decided against that course of action and his body was slung onto the single mule which had accompanied the party on their underground exploits. The group backtracked to the surface to unload the loot and the dead and grab another mule to pack the library from out of the pyramid’s sublevel.

Unhindered by encounters, the library was easily retrieved and redistributed amongst the six mules in the walled courtyard. With the pyramid soon to be a dim memory, Malbane and Anwar went to take one final look at the odd plant and fruit which grew atop the temple’s altar. They carefully harvested the ten polyp-like globules and stowed them in sacks, but Anwar decided to taste the strange fruit. At first there was no reaction, but he soon began twitching and convulsing as Malbane watched, fascinated. After ten minutes, the convulsions ended and the swarthy sorcerer felt much better. Malbane, however, keep a close watch on his fellow spell-hurler, as he suspected something untoward might have occurred.

Once the sorcerers had rejoined the party, a small group climbed the pyramid to view the surrounding territory and check for any remaining secrets. The structure held but a simple iron bowl where offerings were once burnt, but its great height allowed the adventurers to identify several landmarks in the vicinity. To the north, the land continued to rise until it reached a chain of mountains. The dry riverbed which ran past the temple grew wetter until a small stream or river was visible closer to its undiscovered headwaters. To the west, the land descended into a arid meadow, one punctuated by a table-like plateau topped with small hills. To the east were more dry hills, but to the northeast, a crumbling tower was sighted atop one of those hills. Looking southeast, the party spied the top of an intact tower protruding from a hill-ringed bowl or basin. From its location, this was likely the home of Ch’uk and the other Low Men. The group descended and finally, after many deaths and much treasure, put the Temple of the Goat behind them for good (supposedly).

The trip back to Rhuun was mostly uneventful. The party was shocked to discover that the polyp-like fruit that Malbane and Anwar had harvested rotted just hours after leaving the temple, much to the dismay of Malbane, who had decided to sample the fruit himself once they had returned home. It was at this time that it was revealed to the players that Anwar’s eating of the alien fruit had resulted in a permanent increase of his CON by a single point. The nine other opportunities for others to increase their health were now so much acrid pulp rotting under the desert sun.

After returning to town, the party sold their acquired jewels and gems to their now-regular jeweler, Seno Harka, who was unable to identify the strange metal from which the skeleton’s lozenge and treasure chest were formed. He asked to hold onto it for a few days while he consulted some fellow experts. Syl discovered that his exploits were sufficient enough to seek training at the hands of a weapons-master and embarked on three days of instruction.

A party consisting of Malbane, Habdazar, and Fanta ventured to the tower of Jathal the Hexmaker, as they had many questions regarding the strange creature they fought in the pyramid’s sublevel and wanted to see if the sorcerer could also identify the silver coins and an oddly lightweight stone they had found amongst the workshop table’s implements.

After almost inadvertently insulting the sorcerer with a lack of patience on his doorstep, they were finally granted an audience. They showed Jathal their booty and told their tale. The Hexmaker identified the creature as an ocythoid, a decaying race that dwelled upon the lesser moon of Nihil. An enigmatic species, he could not even guess at what purpose it might have in the temple. He was able to identify the coin and stone as products of Nihil, and hazard to guess that the odd plant they had discovered was as well, judging by the rate of the fruit’s decay once separated from the vine.

The party also learned a trivial fact, but one which may serve them in the future. Magical portals that lead to other worlds are almost always vertical when invoked, hanging in the air like doorways. Portals that lead to another locale on the same world, however, are nearly always horizontal and must be stepped into or pulled over one’s form to work. Judging from the glowing doorway that the ocythoid had conjured, it likely terminated somewhere on the Rotted Moon overhead.

The party regrouped back at their rented home and planning for their next expedition began. Although still in debate, it seems likely that they will soon be headed to the Black Gut, a complex of ancient catacombs to the southeast—the ones which Fanta and Domdull had been exploring before they found themselves transported to the sarcophagus-like cells under the Temple of the Goat…

Watchfires & Thrones Session #8

With the undead…um, dead…and the coin and gleaming shield policed up, the adventurers observed that this former refectory contained two exits aside from the secret door by which they entered. As tempting as the valves were, it was decided that a return to Rhuun was warranted to acquire suitable transport to retrieve the valuable library of Athkul they had uncovered. After stopping back to grab what texts they could and conduct a partial cataloguing of their titles, they once again secured the door to the library and departed the Temple of the Goat.

Several hours into the return trip, the party rounded a bend in the dry riverbed that leads to the temple only to run directly into a small hunting party of formidable looking humanoids. Dressed in hides and bearing crude weapons, these large-browed and fanged manlike beasts were recognized as “Low Men,” a decayed branch of humanity that had undergone strange alterations in some distant epoch. Both the adventurers and the Low Men were surprised and several seconds elapsed as both groups stared wide-eyed at one another. Then, with empty hands extended and his voice pitched in friendly tones, Habdazar stepped forward to greet them.

One of the Low Men recognized his words and replied in a gruff pidgin dialect. He was Ch’uk, leader of the hunting band. They were scouring the arid hills in search of bear and inquired if the party had seen any. After some discourse, it was learned that Ch’uk and his tribe were laired in an old tower that lay to the northeast. They had recently arrived in the area and knew little of the surrounding vicinity other than “blood birds” made their home in the hills and that the party should be careful of these creatures. When asked for clarification, he raised his hand above his head to indicate a 7’ or more stance and grunted “big bird, big beak.”

Showing remarkable restraint, the party decided to break bread with the Low Men and the two groups sat down to share a repast of trail rations and raw varmint—you can guess who offered which. A new friendship was kindled that night under the desert stars and I suspect the two groups may have dealings again, even to the point of trade. After all, the Low Men are always on the lookout for “bear…and women!”

After a brief rest, the two groups went their separate ways. Sometime afterwards, the party heard the clattered of a dislodged rock in the wild hills to their left. This was followed by the sound of a low cooing, but nothing was sighted. Readying their weapons, the party continued on cautiously but, other than the cooing repeating once more and another sound of crunching gravel, they sighted nothing. Their mules and animals finally relaxed, indicating that whatever was out there has decided to let them be. They arrived back in Rhuun in the early morning on the following day.

Back in town, the party split up to attend to multiple tasks. Fanta and Domdull set off to the temple of Mog to see if the Spider Mother could reverse the fighter’s newly grown eyes and boil clogged throat, while Mars Markus went with them to undergo initiation into his temple’s deeper mysteries. Two hundred gold jitais was enough to convince the spider priests to remove Domdull’s curses and Mars found himself spending the next day under the tutelage of Mog’s earthly servants. At the end of his instruction, he was gifted with a set of spider silk vestments, a silver holy symbol that helps guard against arachnid venom, and a small vial of liquid that would grant him the ability to scale walls as if he were a spider.

The rest of the party decided that after their difficulty in obtaining rooms during the Festival of Erion, they should look into renting a small building to serve as their crash pad/recruiting office. They spread out throughout the town in search of a suitable structure that fit into their price range. Eventually, Habdazar found a former stable for the cheap price of 150 gold jitais a month.

While Bannath and Syl were out looking for real estate, they turned down a side street to look for a possible candidate that they had heard about. As they strode down that dusty alley, both of them suddenly felt their limbs lock up and were unable to move. From out of the shadows came three robed men who promptly placed bags over the duo’s heads and bound them tight. The two were then lifted up and carried off to an unknown destination. As they traveled, the two heard the men carry them into a building, converse with someone in there, then be brought down a steep flight of stairs and into a cool, echoing tunnel. After an indeterminate time, a stone portal was heard opening and the duo were lead through it. There, they were separated, with Syl being imprisoned in a bare cell and Bannath brought into a low domed chamber.

In that chamber stood a stone idol of Yg, done in the Dissian style. Two masked men in the traditional garb of an Overpriest and an underpriest of Yg stood before the statue, while the three men who captured Bannath and his companion/bodyguard waited nearby, dressed in the robes of the Scaled Brotherhood. As the enchantment wore off and Bannath could move again, the masked Overpriest informed the novice cleric that the Scaled Brotherhood had been watching him since his arrival in Rhuun and they had judged him at last to be worthy of learning the first circle of Yg’s secrets—provided he survived the trial. Bannath agreed to undergo the test and, after stripping him bare, he was lowered into a covered pit from which the heavy odor of snake arose.

With the pit closed above him, Bannath took a meditative position and waited. He soon heard the sound of a stone panel being moved and something HEAVY dropping into the room. The sandy floor betrayed a large scaled form sliding across it and he felt the tubular body of a serpent the size of a palm tree brush by him. This snake coiled itself around Bannath’s waiting body, but the cleric remained motionless—even when the serpent took the cleric’s head into its own large and fanged maw. After what seemed an eternity, the serpent finally withdrew and left the newly initiated priest of Yg unharmed. Another three days of instruction would follow, but Bannath would leave the hidden temple with a silver holy symbol that obscured any falsehoods he told from magical detection and a scroll that would neutralize any poison.

As all this was occurring, the party’s homebound sorcerer, Anwar, finally deciphered the Brazen Tablets of the Viscous Mother, completing the task that he and Malbane had started some seven days previously. Amongst the lore contained on those brass sheets were four spells which had been lost from common knowledge: an incantation that lulled slimes and oozes into temporary dormancy; a conjured ball of acidic slime that could be hurled at opponents; an abjuration that protected one against the corrosive attacks of oozes, slimes, and other amorphous creatures; and a summoning that cloaked the caster in a protective layer of slime which could prevent even potent attacks like petrification and energy drain from affecting him. And as if this acquired lore was not enough, the scribe that the sorcerer had hired to decode the spellbook of poor deceased Presto finally managed to decipher a spell of shielding and invisibility from that text.

With training now completed, a new home arranged, and additional spells added to the sorcerers’ spellbooks, the party turned the attentions back to the Temple of the Goat. Arrangements were made to purchase four more mules and a pair of muleskinners to help handle them. The novice sorcerer Tigir also suggested that they bring along an acquaintance of his, the fighting man, Baragkus. With these last additions, the party, now comprised of four sorcerers, five fighting men, two clerics, an Old Blood, a guard dog, a Mhyrakian watch lizard, a domesticated rat, six mules, and two hesitant pack animal handlers, left Rhuun bound for the Temple.

The journey back to that pile was uneventful with the party’s large size discouraging even the dimmest of creatures from confronting them. Upon reaching the temple, they found that another of the legendary toadhemoths had crawled up from the depths of the foul lake which surrounds the complex to dine on several of the fanged toads that lurked there. This bizarre creature took its meal directly before the entrance to the stepped pyramid’s courtyard and had to be defeated to regain entrance. A barrage of arrows again brought the creature low before it could close the distance to use its wriggling tongue and sucker-laden tentacles on the party.


Breeching the temple once again, the adventurers left a small party of mules, the muleskinners, and some of the fighters and sorcerers in the courtyard while the rest descended into the temple’s sublevel to start bringing out the tomes of Athkul’s collection. As they reentered the building, the last vestiges of the temple’s stirge population took flight to feast on the adventurers’ rich blood. As spells were hurled, missiles fired, and spears and swords swung, Baragkus took a minor injury, but the creatures were finally defeated. In the wake of the battle, the party released that they had never given the foyer of the temple a thorough going-over and, finally doing so, uncovered a leaded glass bottle encrusted with dried guano and several dozen silver and copper coins amidst the accumulated filth.

The party, now a little richer, headed back towards the circular chamber that contained the books they sought to recover. However, it was decided at the last minute to finish their exploration of the temple before bringing out the cache of books, as the party wanted to make sure that any remaining threat had been dealt with. Heading towards the refectory from which they had ended their last sojourn into the temple, they again encountered skeletons in the hallway of statues. This time, once they had defeated the bony guardians, they took the silvery-green lozenges which adorned the foreheads of the defeated skeletons’ skulls. Gripping their weapons tightly, they then headed towards the hallway’s far door…

Rhuun: The Street of the Cobra During the Feast of Erion

Fungal Dead

No. Enc.: 2d8 (3d10)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 60’ (20’)
Armor Class: 6
Hit Dice: 1+2
Attacks: 1 (bony claws)
Damage: 1d6
Save: F1
Morale: 12
Hoard Class: See below
XP: 27

The fungal dead are human corpses whose bodies have been overtaken by a virulent strain of unwholesome fungus. These alien spores animate their non-living hosts into a nightmarish semblance of life and seek to spread the colony into new, recently-deceased corpses. Luckily, this horrid fungus is only known to grow in places steeped in the unwholesome radiance of that bizarre fertility deity, Ishnigarrab.

Fungal dead tear at their opponents with ragged hands, raking their victims with sharp, splintered fingers. If a fungal dead is struck by a weapon, its body emits a cloud of foul-smelling, psychotropic spores. Anyone in melee combat with a fungal dead when struck must save vs. poison or become afflicted by horrific but short-lived hallucinations. Such characters suffer a -1 penalty to all attacks and saving throws for 1d4 turns. A successful save indicates that the character is immune to further exposure by these spores during that encounter.

Although fungal undead can be “slain” by normal attacks, the fungus that powers them reanimates the host corpse after two turns with full hit points. Only by completely destroying the fungus that affects the corpse, usually by using fire, acid, or similar destructive means, can a fungal dead by permanently slain. As they are not true undead, fungal dead are unaffected by turning attempts or holy water.

On some occasions, fungal dead are born from sacrificial victims that have been exposed to colonies of the loathsome fungus as part of the veneration of Ishnigarrab. These sacrificial victims are adorned with symbolic, low grade jewelry prior to being cast into vile pits filled with the fungus and some may still bear these tokens when discovered. Each group of fungal dead has a 40% chance of wearing these decorations when encountered, with the jewelry on each corpse worth 2d10x10 gp.