Watchfires & Thrones Session #45

After an almost four month recess, the players gathered around the table to explore the depths of Stonehell Dungeon once again, but first there was some old business to attend to.

Aieglos and Anwar had completed their training and were looking to occupy the time until the rest of the party returned from their trip upriver to destroy the last vestiges of the Hobgoblin armies. Having been gone just over a week, their absence was not yet cause for alarm. However, Templeton Naz, the proprietor of the Mad Manor was beginning to hint rather strongly that someone needed to take care of the putrefying corpse of Rondo Fleagle that remained in the boarding house’s cold storage space. As the party had sworn to return the dead dwarf to his former home of Dro-baan Khaz, Aieglos and Anwar arranged to join a caravan heading towards the heart of the dwarven kingdom. After three days of travel and a few minor encounters (boulder-hurling apes in the mountain passes and a giant gar that ate one of the caravan’s mounts as they crossed a river), the duo arrived in the subterranean mountain city of Dro-baan Khaz.

Upon their arrival, they sought assistance in what to do with Rondo’s body and were put into contact with one of the dwarven heralds to ascertain what Vein the slain mercenary belonged to. That’s when difficulties arose. Fleagle is not a dwarven name and there was no record of lineage existing for him. It was only when the coffin was open and the herald glimpsed the rotting face within that the reality of the situation became apparent. A look of shock burst upon the herald’s face and Aieglos and Anwar found themselves ushered into an out of the way chamber while a great commotion occurred outside. Several hours passed and there was still no sign of the clamor dying down. Finally, the two were sent for and a quartet of dour-faced dwarven soldiers escorted them out of the room and deep into the inner halls of the dwarven city. As they traveled, they noticed the same sad faces and black mourning bands strapped across shields. It was only when they found themselves escorted before King Tobben of the Underhalls that they learned the truth of what had occurred.

“Rondo Fleagle” was actually Randle Flowstone, the king’s second son. Years ago, an argument between the two led to Randle being declared a “mortdwerg” which effectively made him dead in the eyes of his father. Randle left the city, assumed another name, and sought to prove to his stubborn father that the surface races were worthy of the trust of the dwarves and that without dealings with them, the dwarves of the Kinan-M’Nath would continue to stagnate and die. Randle was a well-liked prince and his ostracism was a great travesty to most of the residents of the city. With his body returned and now no hope of reconciliation with his father, the entire city of Dro-baan Khaz was in mourning.

Once appraised of the situation, Anwar and Aieglos had a quick pow-wow and produced the resurrection ruby they had claimed weeks ago. Informing the king of its power, the duo summoned the great dwarven clerics and proceeded to place the gem upon Randle’s dead chest. Moments later, the magic of the gem came to life, the stone shattered, and Randle Flowstone was once again amongst the living.

Rejoicing at the return of their prince, the two found themselves honored guests of Dro-baan Khaz and feted for several days. They had earned a place of respect amongst the dwarves and were welcome to return at any time. Randle announced he would remain with his people to try and open their eyes as to what their role in the future of the Kinan-M’Nath would be and to reacquaint himself with his position and with his father. As a gesture of thanks for returning his son to a stubborn old king, the two were gifted the Ring of the Hastanes, a magical ring entrusted to the dwarves when the Hastane line vanished 500 years ago. Its powers were unknown since no wizards existed amongst the dwarves, but clerical magic had determined that it bore a powerful magical aura. Taking the ring, the two returned to Blackpool to see if their comrades had returned from their mission upriver.

Back in Blackpool, they were dismayed to learn their friends were overdue. Reports from the Warden Rangers confirmed that the hobgoblin and goblin forces had been routed and were slinking back to their caves. Kaldar had returned and told of the rest of the party entering a crumbling monastery on the western bank of the river while he kept watch on a prisoner outside. When two days had passed and the river boat, the Otter, was due back at Fort Wolf’s Head, Kaldar returned to the river and caught the ship back to Blackpool to report. Anwar and Aieglos decided that if no word was heard in the next week, a rescue mission would be arranged and they would head upriver to discover what happened to their allies.

In the meantime, their coffers would need replenishing and they turned their sights back on Stonehell. With many of their numbers training or missing, the two decided to recruit some fresh members and hire on more mercenaries. Two new candidates for membership were found in the Mad Manor: a dwarf named Helgsvar Dragonsbane and a human cleric with the unlikely name of Chuck of Amencia. With stalwarts Dirk Sodbuster and Rolf Sheepminder once again on the payroll, the group headed back to Stonehell intent on exploring the southeastern portion of the uppermost level. It was not to be.


Entering the dungeon without incident, they unrolled their map and ventured off towards the route that would take them around the pit trap that had annoyed them for so many weeks. Almost immediately they discovered that changes had occurred to the dungeon in their absence. The “voice room”—the chamber where a ghostly voice and a rush of wind calls out strange portents—had acquired a short flight of stairs that ended in a pillar of fire. The flames seemed real, cooking rations thrown into it, and leaving the party uncertain as to what this mysterious new addition meant. Deciding to leave it alone for the time being, they headed to the west, passing the fountain room and the catacombs that lead to the skull shrine.

Arriving in a room where they once battled centipedes, they discovered a door in the west wall where none had stood before. Also, the southern corridor out of the chamber had acquired a mysterious western turn. Deciding against venturing into new territory before they got their bearings, the band headed north.

The corridor headed straight as far as even infravision could see, but at least two doors and a side passage were visible along its length. Venturing down it, the party bypassed the side corridor (but noticed a door on its north wall), and pressed on towards where Helgsvar’s infravision had detected a series of niches in the wall just past a door on the eastern wall. Helgsvar forged ahead to investigate the cavities, and after finding them empty, called the rest of the party forward.

As they did so, a secret passage opened in the eastern wall and three of Stonehell’s berserk deviants poured at to attack the party. Two charged poor Dirk and Rolf while the third advanced on Chuck. Simultaneously, another seven emerged from the door in the side passage to attack the party from the rear. Chuck and his pet dog were slain moments after the ambush began, but Rolf and Dirk held their ground long enough for Aieglos’ arrows and Anwar’s sleep spell to cripple the berserkers and allow the party to carry the day.

The threat neutralized, they party entered the secret chamber to the east and found a guard room and pantry. Several fresh humanoid corpses hung from the ceiling, and one was found to be extremely fresh—still alive! They cut down the meal-to-be and met Felix Fartouch, a human archer that had been destined for the stewpot until the adventurers came along. They welcomed Felix to their ranks and scooped up a dozen copper trinkets they discovered under a pile of cleaned skulls.

Deciding that south might prove better than the north did, the party stopped to see what the room the rest of the berserkers had emerged from contained and found it to be a general quarters. A chest inside the room contained several hundred silver coins, but also a needle trap that Helgsvar barely avoided.


Back in the southern chamber, they entered the mysterious new door to discover a room filled with empty old barrels. Helgsvar entered and began pounding on barrels, stirring up a quartet of centipedes as he did so. He fled from the room, but Anwar smelled treasure and the party cautiously reentered some minutes later. They searched the room, defeated the centipedes, and Aieglos’ elven eyes discovered a loose flagstone that held three ruined leather sacks holding one hundred gold coins apiece! A mighty haul, indeed.

Feeling better about the changes to the dungeon, the party took the southern passage and found it almost immediately debouched into a bare room. Only a layer of purple powder covered the floor, and this was highly suspect. Sure enough, Helgsvar prodded the dust with a 10’ pole and it erupted into a gaseous cloud that he barely avoided. Poison was the likeliest result from breathing it. Anwar decided to try and burn the dust with torches, but his attempts to throw them around the bend in the corridor produced laughable results. The party was just about to attempt to wet the powder down when Aieglos noticed a glow coming down the hall from the fountain room.

A wandering fire beetle was out scavenging for food and with memories of the carnage the beasts had caused them in the Quiet Halls, the party wasted no time in attacking. Unfortunately, their assault did little to penetrate the carapace of the beetle and it was soon upon them. Helgsvar took a grievous wound and Rolf and Dirk exhibited great battle acumen before the beetle was finally slain.

The party decided that enough was enough and they’d go back across the damned pit again to get south. When they reached the corridor on the far side of the pit, however, they discovered that the corridor no longer ran south. Frustrated, they speculated that the catacombs and skull shrine might now contain a southern route, but headed to the Wheel of Fortune first. The door to the Wheel room was unusually stubborn, and when Helgsvar yanked hard on the door, a pit opened beneath them, dropping Felix and Helgsvar (Aieglos played an avoid taps card to escape the pit) into a 10’ shaft. Injured, but not slain, the party recovered their own and took a wine break.

With their wounds bandaged and their spirits restored, the party returned to the catacombs and stood before the massive stone double doors…and found them locked. Suddenly recalling that they had picked the lock the last time they explored this section of the dungeon, Anwar produced a magical scroll. Reading it aloud, the words ignited a blue fire that limned the portals. With a groan, they swung open and the party entered cautiously. All the crypt doors along the corridor were closed, so the band moved swiftly to the door at the far end that would lead them to the skull chapel. Passing through, they found the shrine empty and left Rolf and Dirk to watch the doors as they began searching for secret egresses.

Their hard work discovered a secret panel in the eastern wall, but it unfortunately did not lead deeper into the dungeon and instead concealed a small cavity that held old clerical robes and a large coffer. The party hemmed and hawed over the coffer until Felix lost his patience and opened the container with a flick of the wrist—and promptly died from the poison needle that protected it. The rest of the party found several thousand silver, some small pieces of jewelry, and two potions.

As they began to pack the treasure, a light appeared behind them and they turned to meet a human dressed in leather armor. Introducing himself as Gustaf Bickers, he claimed to be a “procurement specialist” that had been planning on breaking into these catacombs for weeks, only to find them open after he bought a skeleton key from a shifty character to bypass the lock. The party apologized and offered him a position with them since they now had an opening. Gustaf accepted.

Still unable to head south, the band decided to check every crypt along the entrance to see if a new door had appeared in them or if they held a secret portal they had missed. One by one, the party threw open the doors to find many of the crypts empty. One held four skeletons that the party quickly dispatched, finding a potion of flying for their troubles; another held a swarm of giant rats that almost overwhelmed the party. In the end, the rats were slain and a scroll of magic missiles was found in their nest, but not before poor Gustav was bitten and contracted the Sumatran Flu. Taking this as an omen, the party left Stonehell to return another day.

Watchfires & Thrones Session #42

Baragkus, Grumble, Marlowe, Lyrax, and Kejair tumbled down a long, twisting slope, their bodies battered by the stone walls and floor of the slide. Their descent ended abruptly when they fell through a hinged door to land on the floor of an octagonal room shrouded in darkness. As they collected themselves and nursed their new bruises, Grumble and Kejair were able to determine that the chamber they now resided in contained a series of eight identical doors, one set in each wall. The party began to kindle a light so that its human contingent could see as well.

Meanwhile, back above, Mars, Korlack, and the rest began to plan how to extradite their compatriots from the shaft. From the faintness of their voices, it seemed as if the unlucky adventurers had tumbled hundreds of feet and the boys upstairs had a mere 50’ or so of cord amongst them. They decided that they needed to cross the 20’ wide chute mouth and reach the hobgoblin storeroom they had discovered earlier. At least 700’ of stout hemp rope awaited them there.

The upstairs group managed to string a line across the open chute mouth and started crossing over. Mars, Fisk, Cleopos, and Cullen had reached the far side when a trio of bugbears appeared from out of the gloom and charged down the corridor. Fisk and Mars did their best to defeat the hulky brutes, but Mars was knocked to the ground and wounds began to accumulate. Rather than perish, Mars dove into the chute, followed swiftly by the other three, leaving just Korlack and Gareth in the hallway—but on the far side of the cute from the bugbear menaces.

While this pitched combat was taking place, the boys down below had managed to get a torch going and started to examine the chamber in more detail. Their search was interrupted by two pale, wild-eyed madmen who charged into the room from one of its many doors and attacked the newcomers, jabbering gibberish and frothing spittle. The fight was brief, but painful for the party who found themselves nursing new wounds on top of their recent bruises.

The downstairs group proceeded to examine all the doors, opening each in turn to see what lay beyond them. Each stretched off into darkness: long twisting tunnels that vanished into the gloom without a clue of where they may lead. Grumble and Kejair took the chance at venturing down one to scout ahead and discovered it eventually lead to a large cave; one that their infravision determined was occupied by at least three dog-sized heat sources. They retreated back to the octagonal chamber just in time to witness Mars Markus, Fisk, Cleopos, and Cullen come crashing down the chute to join them.

Upstairs, Korlack and Gareth watched as the bugbears slinked away into the gloom and were forced to decide whether to join their companions or continue with the rescue effort. This debate was interrupted by the sound of large, running feet that herald the charge of the largest of the bugbears attempting the leap the chute and slay the two remaining interlopers. The hulking beast launched itself into the air, broadsword held high to chop down its first victim—only to miss the far end of the chute’s open mouth by three feet. Tumbling, ass over teakettle, the bugbear disappeared out of sight down the slide. Fearing this to be the first of such assaults, Korlack and Gareth sighed, pulled out the mage’s bedroll and proceeded to use it as a sled as they too entered the chute to rejoin their companions.

The party below was busy watching the doors for danger when one dropped right into their midst. The bugbear surprised all of them, but was too stunned to take advantage of his literal drop on them. Getting to its feet, it was quickly engaged by the rest of the band, dying under their blows as Korlack and Gareth came sliding into the room to reunite the party once again.

Battered, lost, and uncertain of their next step, the party chose to drink wine and bind their wounds as they planned. This rest was unfortunately interrupted by two more subterranean madmen charging into the room via the door closest to Fisk, making the much wounded hired sword their first target. Their hacking attacks were more than enough to slay the injured fighter and the party suffered their first death beneath Hob’s Hill. It would not be their last.

The party was able to defeat the two madmen in the moments afterward, but they had lost a valuable ally and were still horribly injured, tired, and desperate so they again chose to take time to bind their wounds and recoup. THIS rest was interrupted by the tramp of heavy boot steps and yet another door opened to reveal TWO ogres!

Marlowe stepped to forefront and engaged the ogres in conversation using their own tongue, an effort the giants appreciated. They revealed that they had fallen down the very same chute some time ago and were currently working for King Don III, the lord of the Underworld. They were in fact on their way to report to him right then and the party could follow them if they wished. Suspicious, but with no better options, the party joined the ogres.

Through another door and down a new tunnel, the party was brought into the audience chamber of King Don III, a pale and obviously insane potentate who sat upon a stone chair and wrapped himself in an unraveling purple rug. The party tried to gain assistance from the so-called king, but they were unable to decipher his twisted thought process and treaded very close to outright treason to the king’s thinking. He offered to allow them to rest in the octagonal chamber with the ogres as watchmen and told the party to go back to that place and await the return of the two hulking brutes. King Don III had to speak with the ogres first…

Suspecting their doom was being plotted, the party returned to the octagonal room and departed immediately after leaving Fisk’s body in the center of the room and an “N” inscribed on the northernmost door. In the hours ahead, the party would wind their way through several corridors, finding nothing but empty caves, bugbears who were willing to fight them to the death over the ownership of their pants, and a dead-end cave where ghouls were dining on the (later revealed) corpse of Fisk. All these passages eventually lead back to the octagonal room!

A side note: Jack, the player who runs Mars Markus and Anwar, loves to map out any and every subterranean space the party explores, sometime to the point of distraction. One of the reasons I decided to run Horror on the Hill (which is the basis of this part of the campaign) was because this part of it is a twisting labyrinth designed to make mappers crazy. All my directions and descriptions were vague and rapid-fire, leaving poor Jack to try and keep up with my narration of the labyrinth. At one point the rest of the group was in hysterics at Jack’s frantic effort to draw my verbal account of the dungeon. Some swear steam was actually seen rising from his ears.

The party’s exploratory efforts were finally rewarded when they discovered a dead-end tunnel, one that appeared a little too dead-end if you catch my drift. Sure enough, Grumble’s inspection of the stone revealed a false wall and the almost empty cave beyond it. In this obviously undisturbed grotto lay a long-dead wizard clutching a spellbook and bag. A page of the spellbook contained his last message to the world:

6th Day of The Blaze, 1098 GCR

To think that it ends this way: Prydaree Kuhlth, Master of Wands and Agent of the Cerulean Flame, perishes in a gods’ forsaken cave beneath the site of his greatest victory. Should anyone find my missive, please let it be known that I was successful in my task and bury me where I shall not be found and my grave remain unriled.

Four days ago, I was summoned into the presence of His Exalted Supremacy,Draz Stephan Hastane and tasked with a great service to the empire: the recovery of the Hypnopsychomachina. This device, a creation of His Supremacy’s debased but genius sister, Isodore, had fallen into the possession of the Whelps of Tsathoggua and was spirited away to their noxious fane in the hinterlands of the Empire. With the Retreat to occur in less than three faces, it was imperative that the device be recovered before the Hastane dynastic line vacated this mortal realm for good. As the most trusted agent of the Imperial Secret Watch, it fell to me to recover it.

The journey northeast into the Howling Wilderness took but hours with the Modi Goats and I located the profane temple in short order. With no time or desire for subtlety, lightning was my harbinger and the lower initiates of the Great Sloth-Bat fell twitching before my assault. Their faith was no match for my spells and I hewed them down like wheat before the whirlwind.

Locating the High Foulness’ inner sanctum was no more difficult, but I nearly underestimated my opponent. Our battle—my spells against his prayers—was fierce and I nearly perished in the combat. Nevertheless, I prevailed, albeit injured, and took possession of the Hypnopsychomachina. I prepared to return back to His Supremacy in triumph.

In my hubris, I failed to detect a simple trap that sent me tumbling in this subterranean hell. My abrupt descent was arrested by a collision with the rocky floor that shattered my left arm and right leg. Drained of spells and lacking healing draughts, I crawled about in the darkness for a seeming eternity before finding this small refuge. There are other things down here with me and it is only a matter of time before I’m found or I die from my wounds. Even if I could rest and replenish my spells, my injuries make it impossible for me to make the intricate gestures needed to perform all by the slightest of magics.

I’ve produced one final spell, a simple illumination cantrip by which I might pen this final message on a blank page within my traveling spellbook. I hope the light lasts long enough for me to finish my work.

If another practitioner of the Ineffable Path finds this, my work is given unto you free of geas or curse. Use what you may with my blessings and I regret I leave but a minor tome to you rather than my master workbook of spells. Oh what mysteries I have in those pages!

It is likely that the Retreat will have passed before this is found. If such be the case, I also entrust the Hypnopsychomachina to whomever finds my remains. Its power is ingenious if subtle. When used correctly, the device

It appeared that poor Prydaree’s light spell did indeed expire before he could complete his missive.

While this was being deciphered, Marlowe opened the bag to find an iron skull, one the size of a nine year-old child’s. Ten indentations where arranged around the skull, five to a side, and the object has black glass-like lenses for eye. Placing his fingers in the indentations and staring into the eyes, the world fell away from Marlowe…

The next thing he knew, he was standing along a roadside with various other highway men, awaiting a fat priest and his load of church gold. Robbing the cleric, the freebooter’s vision shifted to a dingy bar tavern where a fight erupted over a stolen pouch. Next he experienced a knife in that back at the hands of an “ally” and died in a pool of blood, only to find himself again plundering a chest from aboard a burning merchant ship. These visions were indistinguishable from reality and the freebooter seemed to pass several days of his life engaged in his chosen career. Then, without warning, Marlowe found himself back in the cave with the skull in hand. Less than a second had passed, but Marlowe was now a more experienced freebooter, having been trained to second level. From the skull came an indistinct voice that said “fourteen.”

The rest of the party was suspicious about Marlowe following this, but didn’t press the issue and the freebooter took full possession of the skull. The party rested, confident (and correct) that they’d be undisturbed in the cave, allowing them to heal and regain spells for the first time in seemingly forever. The next morning, Grumble discovered another false wall in the cave that led to a hidden treasure trove of coins, jewels, objects d’art, magical plate mail, sword, a ring of fire resistance, and potions of healing.

Rest, armed, and feeling confident, the party left the cave and returned to the octagonal room. They were running out of doors and tunnels and so decided to proceed down the path that Grumble and Kejair had explored much earlier. This led to back to the cave and they learned that the heat-producing forms were in truth giant killer shrews that proved to be more dangerous than they initially seemed. Baragkus took several mean wounds in the fight, but the three vicious beasts were overcome…which unfortunately meant the party had orphaned the naked, pink offspring they discovered immediately afterwards in the shrews’ nest. Despite an attempt on Mars’ part to adopt and raise the newborns, some poison was dispensed and a quiet murder in the dark settled the issue in time for the session to come to a close.

Scuttlehole

This is the rough map I did of Scuttlehole. I didn't expect the PCs to come ashore on this trip, but it pays to plan ahead. In my mind, the swamp village is a mix of Mos Eisley, Innsmouth, and Port Royal, and my description of the place in play reflects that. One player asked some probing questions about the physical appearances of the locals, undoubtedly caused by the way I described Scuttlehole and the fact that I'm connected with a certain Lovecraftian rules supplement for Labyrinth Lord. I refuse to reveal whether his suspicions are true or not at the present time.

Map Key
1) Inn
2) Boarding House
3) Enforcer's Post
4) Woolly Gator Pit
5) Boatwright
6) Provisions
6a) Storage
7) Tavern/Gambling House
8) Punishment Post
9) Warehouses
10) Bordello
11) Fish House
12) Butcher/Smokehouse/Hide Trader
13) "Sundries"
14) "Old Witch"
15) Temple
16) Weapons Shoppe

The dots in and around the harbor area are pilings for boats to moor to when visiting town. A series of elevated walkways and bridges connects the buildings and keeps them high and dry above the River Phol and the swampy riverbank.

The village has a lot of possibilities and I expect that it may become a frequent launching point/destination for adventures in campaigns to come--maybe even in my current one...

Watchfires & Thrones Session #35

The hobgoblins have an agenda and the events on their itinerary occur depending on certain criteria. Unfortunately, the party doesn’t know what this agenda is or what criteria drive it. For example: if the hobgoblins in Stonehell had been eradicated before a certain date, the party would have arrived upriver and found things to be quiet, the hobgoblins still in the midst of preparing their assault on the Kinan-M’Nath. But the party took too long looking for the Redoubt’s backdoor and events moved ahead without their knowledge. So instead of a peaceful frontier fort and a bevy of unsuspecting hobgoblins, the party discovered that war has come to the frontier—and they’re smack dab in the middle of it.

When it comes to having different possibilities available, I’m not ashamed to borrow from published source material. The session’s adventure was just such a case. Perhaps tellingly, the players noted that this game felt different from the rest, largely because part of it was lifted wholesale from a module. Those of you familiar with Night’s Dark Terror will undoubtedly recognize certain events in both this session and the next.

The Society returned to town and began preparations for the next day’s trip upriver. Supplies were purchased, a porter was hired, and an extra fighting man brought into their ranks to help in the upcoming raid. Cleopos the Porter learned that his employer, Grumble, assumed that he possessed some form of superhuman strength as he was gradually laden with more and more supplies until it became nearly impossible for him to move, thus providing a valuable lesson about encumbrance. Luckily, the dwarf took pity on his two-legged pony and redistributed the burden.

In regards to party composition, it was deemed more cost-effective to hire another fighter, a young swordsman named Fisk, than to pay for either the raising of Rondo Fleagle or to use the bloodgem to resurrect him from the grave. Due to certain time limits, this was likely to be the party’s last chance to rescue the slain dwarf’s shade from the grim lands—unless they reconsider using the gem to return him to life. It looks like a trip to the dwarven capitol to return Rondo’s corpse to his familial crypt will indeed be in order.

On the following morning, the party assembled at the river dock to meet Ayvok Sulg, owner and captain of the Otter, a merchant riverboat. Sulg and his crew were hired to take the party upriver to Fort Wolf’s Head, from which they would foray onto Hob’s Hill in search of the Citadel of Iron Might and Furious Devotion. The party was somewhat taken aback by Sulg’s first mate, a towering lizardfolk named Kryhiss, but nevertheless got settled aboard the cramped riverboat. As the last of the provisions were loaded, the Otter cast off and the crew went to work rowing the loaded vessel upriver.

The trip was quiet and pleasant despite the cramped conditions. As the party watched Blackpool fade in the distance, the land became wetter and stands of reeds and bulrushes began to appear. The water took a darker hue, becoming nearly ebony as the wetlands grew around them. Flocks of ducks soared overhead and the occasional twisted and stunted tree could be seen atop a hummock of dry land. The party began to nervously recall the tales of a giant turtle that was preying on boats and Kaldar took the opportunity to acquaint himself with the lizardfolk sailor to see what he could learn. He did gain some knowledge of Kryhiss’ homeland (“Murkmire,” the grey-green first mate said, sweeping a clawed finger across the rush-filled marsh around them) and that there was a turtle of enormous size attacking ships. But the scaly humanoid had a crew to direct and Kaldar wisely left him to his chores.

As night approached, Captain Sulg informed the party that they would be mooring for the night in a small swamp village with the unpleasant-sounding name of Scuttlehole. It was a necessary precaution since most sensible captains avoided traveling on the river after dark. The party had already observed one lumber drive passing them on the River Phol. These massive collections of stripped timber were poled downriver by the woodsmen of the Howling Wilderness, and Sulg had no desire to run into one of these drifting hazards in the dark of night.

Sulg suggested with much emphasis that the party remain onboard when the moored for the night. Scuttlehole was an unpleasant place, a rough swamp town which didn’t welcome unknown faces. In fact, Sulg explained, the local form of justice entailed the magistrate asking who was responsible for any crimes or disturbance. Whoever was implicated by the majority was summarily dragged to the woolly gator pit and tossed in with no trial or appeal.

As the Otter pulled into Scuttlehole’s “harbor” (nothing more than a collection of pilings driven into the riverbed), the adventurers got their first look at the place. Half the community was constructed on raised walkways that rose above both water and swamp. The buildings were green with mildew and moss, and the few trees along the bank were draped with hangman’s moss. A butcher was lethargically chopping the heads off of fish and casting the bodies into the river below, where the water frothed and roiled with blood. A pair of red lanterns dangled from a large two-story structure built over the river, and the laughter and commotion from within left little mystery as to what purpose it served. A few sputtering braziers produced a pungent smoke, keeping the worst of the mosquitoes and biting flies away. The party decided to give the settlement’s dubious accommodations a pass. Kryhiss and two other crewmen did depart on the Otter’s single skiff to visit town, however. The party posted a watch but other than the crewmembers returning around midnight, the evening passed without incident.

The next morning saw the Otter hoisting anchor and heading back upriver. Soon after the boat sailed out of sight of the swamp village, the Murkmire began to dry up and rolling hills and forest became visible along the banks of the river. The boat passed a ford in the river, easily crossing it with its 2’ draft. A walled town with the unsurprising name of Oldford stood on the eastern banks of the river near the crossing. Small children waved at the vessel as she passed while wagons, cattle and drovers paused partially submerged in the river at the ford to allow the boat right of way.

It was late afternoon when the River Phol widened and another lumber drive with its pole-men passed the Otter. Ahead was Snake Island, a long, narrow isle that sat almost 200’ from the eastern bank of the river. As was custom, Sulg turned the craft to pass through the channel that separated the island from shore in order best avoid any more lumber drives headed downriver. As they reached the midpoint of their trip through the channel, the Otter lurched suddenly and stopped, throwing its passengers and crew off-balance as it unexpectedly hit a submerged snag in the river. That obstacle was the least of their worries because a volley of arrows suddenly rained down on the boat from the eastern shore!

Emerging from the woods was a score of raiders. Some were stripped down to loincloths and bore wicked-looking knives in their teeth. Frothing at the mouth and with wild gleams in their eyes, these twelve dove into the river and began swimming towards the motionless boat. Eight more archers continued to rain arrows down on the ship, killing two crew members before the rest took cover amongst the crates and sacks strapped to the deck. The party bravely rose to their feet and began returning fire or to prepare to meet the boarders.

The party’s arrows were concentrated on a chainmail-clad figure who strode amongst the archers, encouraging them and ordering their fire. After thirty seconds of concentrated fire, this figure lay dead on the ground with six arrows piercing his body. The remaining archers looked uncertain for a moment, but continued their attack.

With most of the party’s attention on the archers and closing swimmers, one crewman almost went unnoticed as he rose to his feet and drew a curved dagger from his belt sash. Creeping towards where Baragkus and Kryhiss stood, he prepared to plunge the knife into the lizardman’s scaly back. Only the cry of a comrade alerted the first mate and the fighter to this treachery, allowing Kryhiss to escape the backstab with a mere grazing of the blade. Facing the angry Lizardman and the brawny Baragkus, the sinister sailor decided to throw himself overboard rather than risk their blades. Alas, he was prevented from fleeing by Baragkus and instead turned and ran towards the port side of the boat. As he prepared to dive over the side, Captain Sulg drew his own blade and killed the traitorous dog.

The last of the shoreline archers were laid low by the party, but not before Korlack suffered a grievous wound from one of their yard-long shafts. The magic-user fell into unconsciousness, leaving him defenseless as the mad-eyed swimmers reached the boat’s starboard side and began boarding. Lyrax ran forward to pour a healing elixir down his throat while Kaldar and the recently-hired Fisk stood on the gunwales and started beating back the borders. Closer to the stern, Baragkus, Kryhiss, Raijek, and Mars Markus held started cutting down boarders as the climbed from the water.
The boarders, even in their mad rage, had no hope of winning the day and it wasn’t long before the last of their bloodied bodies splashed over the side of the boat to vanish beneath the river’s surface. The party stood victorious once again.

With the threat gone, the party took to examining the few corpses that remained aboard the Otter. The swimming mad men had nothing but knives and loincloths, but the traitorous sailor was another story. In addition to his well-made blade, a tattoo was discovered on his left forearm. Depicting either a crow or a raven, this piece of body art gave the Society the idea that what they had just battled was a Storm Crow ambush. Knowing that clandestine organization’s alliance with the hobgoblins, if the Crows were behind the attack, it could only be assumed that the hobgoblins knew they were coming. What this might mean to their planned assault remains to be seen.

Captain Sulg and his crew determined that the Otter had struck a series of strategically-placed logs hidden under the river’s surface. With night falling fast, the boat would be forced to wait until daylight to free itself and continue the trip upriver. The party took the opportunity to explore the riverbank and loot the slain ambushers. The chainmail-wearing leader was also found to have a bird tattoo, lending more evidence to their suspicions. In addition to the bodies, a trail was found that led to a small clearing that bore the signs of a recent campfire. Another trail led further north along the river, terminating at the water’s edge where three large canoes were concealed amongst the underbrush. This was obviously the way their attackers had arrived on the scene. And since the Otter move twice as fast as any canoe, their assailants must have been in place before they arrived. This led to some speculation as to what the crewmen who went ashore at Scuttlehole were doing…

The party returned with the canoes to find that Captain Sulg had established a camp on the shore of Snake Island, unloading some of the boat’s cargo to reduce its weight and lessen its draft. The party took the opportunity to explore part of Snake Island, a heavily overgrown and forested isle, but night came before they could venture too far from camp. They returned and spent a pensive but uneventful night on dry land.

The following morning saw the Otter freed and the trip continued upriver after the party stashed one of their newly-discovered canoes on Snake Island “just in case.” After another half day on the river, the Otter finally rounded a bend and the party caught their first glimpse of Hob’s Hill. This forested prominence rose above the western bank of the river, a good mile away from the other shore. The Otter pulled along the eastern bank to tie up to a piling near the shore and allow the Society to debark. Captain Sulg informed them that he’d likely be back this way in three or four days after he had concluded his business at one of the northern lumber camps. Giving the party instructions to follow a trail through the forest beyond the riverbank, he told them they’d reach Fort Wolf’s Head by sundown…if they hurried. With that, the Otter and her crew began to pull away and start upriver again.

The party paused to hide their two remaining canoes at the forest’s edge before heading down the trail. The forest was still, shadowy, and peaceful, and the party made good time along what was obviously a regularly traveled path. As night fell, the party heard the sound of a burbling stream ahead…and something less placid. Faintly, the sound of screams and clashing steel drifted through the still air and the woods to the east suddenly began to glow orange and red. Rushing down the path, the party broke through the trees to emerge in the midst of battle.
On the far side of a narrow river stood a frontier settlement ringed by a palisade of hewn trees and under attack by scores of orange- and green-skinned goblins. The settlement’s northern wall and barn were in flames and desperate defenders fired arrows down at their chanting attackers. From the underbrush around the party, ten goblins dressed in wolf pelts leaped to their feet and hurled spears at the new arrivals. Minor wounds were taken, but Korlack’s sleep spell quickly rendered the goblin attackers inert.The party pushed toward the wooden bridge that crossed the small river and terminated at a gatehouse. From atop the parapet of the wooden barbican came a warning cry. A man dressed in leathers pointed to the south and screamed for the party to get inside the wall. Looking down the riverbank, the party saw a dozen goblins riding the largest wolves they had ever seen. The goblin cavalry was headed their way with murder in their eyes.

The party dashed across the bridge and through the gate that opened to meet them. As a barrage of goblin spears slammed into the wooden walls of the gatehouse, the portal shut behind them, granting the weary travelers a moment of respite.

But it would soon become clear that they faced a long and dangerous night ahead…

Map of Blackpool

Blackpool Map Key

Places to Stay
1. The Dead Dragon Inn
2. Toilers’ House (rooming house for itinerant laborers)

Places to Worship
3. Sanctuary of the Sovereign Flame (Temple of the Sovereign)
4. Chapel of the Square Deal (Temple to Chadem)
5. The Fortunate House (Temple to Chance)
6. The Tabernacle (Non-denominational worship house)

Places to Play
7. Mother Thums’ (house of ill-repute)
8. The Pit (games of chance)
9. Progo’s Theatre and Song Hall (performance hall)
10. Goodwife Esbah’s (2 in 6 chance of beer for sale)
11. The Begging Bandit (rough and tumble tavern)
12. Tobben’s Tilbyr (dwarven brauhaus)

Goods & Services
13. Chast the Scribe (spellbooks decoded, maps for sale)
14. The Quiet Repose (undertaker)
15. Japh Nidg, Silversmith (jewelry and gemstones bought and sold)
16. Fleetfoot’s Messenger Service (letters & parcels delivered)
17. The War House (fighter’s college)
18. Hortuuk’s Hides & Skins (leatherworker & furrier)
19. “Cheap Scrap Timber”/Doran the Wondersmith (lumber scraps [ground floor], artificer [second floor])
20. The Chortling Ghost (magic supplies & sundries)
21. “Gud Horsus” (stables & saddles)
22. Conundrum of Steel (blacksmith & part-time weaponsmith)
23. The Mother Lode (provisions, outdoor gear, & mining supplies)
24. Ferritixmus the Wheelwright (wagons repaired & sold)
25. Strongbow Arrowsmith (bowyer/fletcher)
26. Flora’s Remedies (herbs & folk medicines)
27. The Sacred Forge (Ferrumic smith – 2 in 6 chance of being open)

Civic Sites
A. Grain Silos & Cisterns
B. Watch Barracks
C. Council Hall
D. Assayer & Claim Office
E. Common Well

A Partial Map of the Kinan-M'Nath

After months of real time in the campaign world, the players finally got their hands on a map of the region. The Kinan-M'Nath is largely based on the Outdoor Survival map so any similarities are intentional. The acquisition of a map arrived just in time, as I'm foreseeing several overland journeys in the weeks to come. The hobgoblin citadel (not pictured) is a likely candidate for sacking and looting, and there is the matter of returning Rondo Fleagle's earthly remains to his people in Dro-Baan Khaz. And you can never be sure when or where a giant turtle will strike. They are amphibious after all...

Clerics and Weapons

While I'm on a clerical kick, here's the official "Why can't clerics use pointy things?" explanation for the campaign world. This originally appeared on the Obsidian Portal wiki, but I never got around to reposting it here.

As stated in all the early editions of D&D, clerics are restricted to blunt weapons, leaving it up to the referee to enforce and/or explain this restriction. Here’s mine:

In the year 941, the nobles of both the Great Empire and Nan-Matal were concerned with the growing influence of the various sects within their borders. Looking to strip these priests of the ability to raise private armies, the nobles attempted to outlaw the carrying of weaponry by any servant of an established temple. The clergy was outraged at the proposal and threatened to withhold services, rites, and prayers from anyone of noble birth. The nobles counter-threaten to evict every clergyman from their borders. Ultimately, cooler heads stepped in to work a compromise, and at the Diet of Tides held during Starfall of that year, the clergy agreed to limit their arms to the mace, hammer, cudgel, staff, and sling. For more than six centuries, it has been illegal for any cleric to carry an edged weapon and any found doing so faces immediate arrest. This restriction does not apply to the so-called martial clergy of some non-human churches. Thus, fighter/clerics and the like are allowed to bear any weapon legally so long as they adhere to the normal laws of weapon possession in the Uncertain Lands.

Now, since there is currently one cleric running around the campaign who came from another world where the rules were a little different, what might this limitation mean to Mars Markus? Mars has been operating under the grandfather clause and is still allowed to use his edged weapons that he's trained in. The reason he escapes incarceration is that the cult of Mog is unknown in the Kinan-M'Nath and is therefore not covered by the Diet of Tides. Should our servant of the Spider ever decide to start pushing that old time Arachnid Religion (or establish a stronghold), he might attract the attention of ecclesiastical law and risk incarceration. But for now, Mars can get away with it.

The Groaning Ruins

On the western bank of the River Ahkyl, some miles south of Blackpool, stands a rocky bluff overlooking the water. Atop this precipice is the crumbling ruin of a monastery. This hermitage dates back to the years when the Kinan-M’Nath was still Nan-Matal, the great empire which once covered the lands from the Ahkyl to the Shining Bay.

Centuries ago, this monastery was home to an order of monks dedicated to Amencia, the Lady of Healing. In the dark years during the decline of the Hastanes, the monastery was a stronghold of Law amongst the collapse of order. The monks provided care for the wounded and ill, and were not loathe to fight against the forces of evil which strove to tear the empire apart. For this reason, the monastery gained fame across the eastern marches. But this was not the sole source of the monastery’s renown, for within its hallowed halls lay a relic of unearthly provenance.

In the catacombs under the monastery, the monks cared for a single drop of Amencia’s blood. Said to have been given by the goddess to an exceptionally devout brother as reward for his untiring service, this droplet was rumored to possess the ability to cure any injury or illness, and it was even said to have the power to restore life to the dead. The monks kept the relic at the heart of an intricate labyrinth built to protect the blood from thieves and other evil men.

When Nan-Natal fell and the land returned to the wilderness, the monastery remained intact. For several years, the monks strove to care for the injured and ill and to push back the forces of Chaos. Then, without explanation, the monks were gone.

There is no record of them leaving their holy redoubt, no eyewitness reports of laden wagons departing the site. Visitors to the monastery found the upper levels empty, appearing as if the monks had simply stepped away for a moment. The only sign of activity was that the entrance to the catacombs was sealed. It was a mystery that was never solved. In time, the structure fell into ruin.

Over the years, adventurers and treasure-seekers have explored the site, even forcing their way into the catacombs. Despite these expeditions, however, no one has managed to reach the labyrinth that still supposedly holds that most precious blood. Adventurers exploring the ruins have reported an odd phenomenon, one that gives the place its name. At seemingly random intervals, a loud groaning is heard emanating from the ground beneath the former monastery. The cause of this unknown, but the most superstitious of adventurers claim it is the hungry souls of the vanished monks clamoring for blood of less divine origin—that of interlopers.

Delves into the catacombs have grown less common in recent decades, as most adventurers seeking to make a name for themselves or to pilfer easy treasure plumb the depths of nearby Stonehell. But, should one lucky band discover the entrance to the labyrinth and navigate its twisting halls, the benefits of owning the monastery’s lost relic would be incalculable.

Overview of the Kinan-M'Nath

Now that summer is over (in the unofficial "it's after Labor Day" sort of way), I'm gleefully awaiting the coming of autumn with all its chill air and changing leaves. This time of year affects my senses and truly gets me in the proper mindset for playing D&D. The cold wind, a crackling fire, and the rustling of fallen leaves always makes me think of high adventure.

In particularly, the change in the weather will also be closely resembling the environment found in the Kinan-M'Nath (although you're currently exploring it in the early spring, not the start of fall). I found the following in my campaign notes folder. It formally appeared on the Obsidian Portal wiki, but with that shut down, I'm reposting it here so that you get a better idea of just what is outside the window of the Mad Manor, and what type of environment your characters are operating in.

The following are general notes about the geography, climate, and people of the Kinan-M’Nath.

• Much of the Kinan-M’Nath is rich in raw, rough pastoral and sylvan beauty. Winters are long in the Kinan-M’Nath, with snow sometimes falling into the late spring. Areas of deep green woodlands are punctuated by jagged granite mountain peaks capped with snow and ice. In deep crevasses in the shadowy mountains, ice remains year round. Glittering streams trickle down from the peaks, winding through beautiful meadow valleys and thick stands of aspen, fir, and pine trees. In the spring, apple trees erupt in showers of pink and white blossoms. Waterfalls are common in the high peaks, throwing rainbows of color against exposed granite cliff faces in the bright afternoon sun. Many caves dot the hills and mountains of the Kinan-M’Nath.
  
  
• Common animals found in the Kinan-M’Nath include deer, rabbits, wolves, moose, panthers, black bears, owls, hawks, ravens, songbirds, boars, stags, and sturgeon.
  
  
• The human populace is largely descended from the Scalva, a nomadic tribe of barbarians who traveled along rivers on massive houseboat-like rafts. The Scalva eventually became an agrarian society and settled on the lands bordering the major rivers in the Kinan-M’Nath. Despite centuries of settled existence, the people of the Kinan-M’Nath still bear traces of their barbaric ancestry. Black and brown hair is common; dark-eyed blondes less so. Young, unmarried men wear the hair long and grow beards, only to trim both once they marry. Women wear their hair long and loose, although young girls often braid their tresses. The most common professions amongst these people are fishermen, herdsmen, farmers, lumberers, and miners.
  
  
• Homes are usually timber and plaster affairs standing 2 to 3 stories in height. Many are whitewashed every other spring, with yellow and red commonly used to paint the trim. Window boxes filled with flowers are a common decoration.
  
  
• Staple crops include potatoes, turnips, and cabbage. Berries grow in abundance during the summer. Goat cheese and sheep’s blood pudding are local delicacies.
  
  
• Weddings among the people of the Kinan-M’Nath are joyous, colorful, and boisterous events that usually include a procession through the village. In the spring, families with girls of marriageable age often adorn their doors with wreaths of wild flowers to attract potential suitors.
  
  
• During the winter, heavy snow makes travel by snowshoe and sleigh most desirable for those who must be about.

An Explanation

Those of you who follow this blog but don’t play in the campaign must be wondering what the hell is going on after reading the latest game recap. That game session saw the adventurers leaving their previous campaign world to find themselves in Stonehell Dungeon. That’s quite an unexpected and abrupt change so some clarification is in order.

At the start of the Watchfires & Thrones campaign, I had originally intended to run a classic sandbox hex- and dungeon-crawl campaign set in my longtime AD&D game world of R’Nis. I had been developing new material for that world ever since I began documenting my return to my gaming roots with the Society of Torch, Pole and Rope, meaning that I had accumulated quite a bit of material over the course of the previous year and a half.

On almost the night before the campaign started, I decided to completely switch gears and start from scratch in a new pulp sword & sorcery world. In hindsight, I know this decision was based on me feeling burned out with R’Nis and wanting to try something completely new. I’m also unashamed to admit that I was inspired by what some other very creative people were doing with their own campaign world, truly imagining the hell out of them and creating settings that I enviously wished I had thought of first. Compared to these masterpieces, my own game world seemed pretty bland.

The players and I leaped headfirst into this new world and there was a lot of fun all around. I was loving the change of setting and play was fast and furious. The players were enjoying not knowing what sort of cockamamie creations they were going to face each week and even the prodigious body count couldn’t blunt the fun we were having.

Then I figuratively shot myself in the foot.

You see, I have this habit of being unable to say “no” to any offer to write something game-related for publication. This would be bad enough without my insane desire to make more work for myself by self-publishing my own material. So when we found ourselves with a long period of time off from the game between Father’s Day and Independence Day, I had the opportunity to look at my schedule and what I needed to do both personally and professionally. And holy crap was I screwed.

The first casualty was the Society of Torch, Pole and Rope, which you probably know is on extended hiatus until I free myself up some time to do proper “not phoned in at the last minute” posts. That bought me some time, but not enough. Something else would have to change.

The next thing that would have to go would be my game, but after returning to the role of referee, I wasn’t willing to make that sacrifice. I just needed to find a way to reduce the amount of work I had to do between each game session.

Since I had decided to base the campaign in a world that I had no material for, there was a lot that needed to be done from week-to-week, and I often found myself furiously putting material together just before I left the house to play each Sunday. That’s no way to run a campaign if you want to actually enjoy it. I was drawing hex-maps and stocking them, designing a new megadungeon, and doing research for the world backstory in order to find a way to introduce some very unorthodox ideas into a fantasy role-playing campaign. While I still think that this campaign setting is a very cool one and a great change of pace, it’s not one that I can maintain and truly allow to bloom with the time that I have. I simply wasn’t satisfied.

In addition, there were a few things that I had introduced to the campaign in order to test them out and see how they worked in actual play. Some of these were very successful; others less so. Perhaps my biggest disappointment was allowing the players to run multiple characters at one time. It was originally my intention that they would switch back and forth with characters when one was unavailable or a change of pace was needed, but that wasn’t how things worked out. This required several changes to the game itself, a reassessment of how much experience points were awarded each session, and, worst of all, it encouraged a sense of detatchment from the overall campaign world. And if the players weren’t becoming invested in the setting, I couldn’t be bother to do so too. That’s a shame because that investment and sense of wonder is the prime reason I prefer to play these games and be the referee. A change was obviously in order.

Rather than reboot the campaign—a last ditch effort if there ever was one—I decided to change worlds and put myself back in not only a game world where I feel most at home, but one that has accumulated a great deal of material over the years. That factor alone will reduce my prep time immensely. I also wanted to implement a strict “one PC at a time rule” in order to encourage a connection with the campaign world, and swapping the campaign setting would allow me to slowly introduce the players to a world with more depth and history than the one they had been playing in.

Luckily for me, this swap wasn’t as difficult or far-fetched as it might normally be. The Black Gut, the megadungeon that the PCs were exploring, featured many gates and portals to different locations and worlds. At the end of the last session, we had stopped with them right next to a chamber that held one such gateway. If I could just get them through it, we could start fresh with new adventures.

Rather than railroad them all, I was very open with the players about what I wanted to do and presented them with my proposal. I made it clear that I wouldn’t make any gross change without their agreement and participation, which they thankfully gave me. A little metagaming later, a reduced number of PCs stepped through a gate between worlds to find themselves in Stonehell Dungeon.

There’s going to be some more modifications but I’m waiting for the party to reach civilization. Most of them will require training at that time to advance so it will be the perfect time to introduce those changes. I think that despite the suddenness and magnitude of the world change, it will be for the best in the long run, and I simply can’t wait for our next game session.

Company Headquarters

After the party experienced a shortage of inn rooms (and the price hike that accompanied that) during the Festival of Erion, interest was expressed to purchase or rent larger, more permanent quarters. I quoted the players the price of buying a home, which turned them in the direction of leasing one. Thanks to Habdazar's high charisma, they managed to find a good price on a structure that suited their needs: a two story building with at least three-to-five rooms, possibly a stable.

Experience in the Watchfires & Thrones campaign largely comes from treasure and monsters, but I do award bonus points for the occasional great achievement or for contributing material to the overall "shared world" experience. This seemed like a pefect time to introduce one of those opportunities, so I offered a bonus of 200 xps to anyone who came up with an interior map of the new building. Pete showed up with not only a map, but with a drawing that subscribes to the unofficial motto of everyone but Tom in our group of "Any picture's better than no picture!" when it comes to art.


After I gave the players this option in an email, I never heard back from anyone stating that they were wanted to take a shot at it. I therefore assumed it would have to be me to come up with the building's layout. Since I've used fold-up buildings in the past during trips into town, I wanted to find something suitable to depict the former stables that the PCs are now living in. This was the result.




As it stands, the map above is accurate as far as the layout goes, but the exterior looks more like the photos than the drawing. A happy mixture of both player and referee input, which is what every campaign involving a shared world should be.

World Map

The actual item will be making its debut at tomorrow's game (and is only 90% complete anyway), but here's a snapshot to whet the appetite and to get you guys thinking about world domination.