Wednesday, December 26, 2018
#16: The Anaithnid
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Saturday, December 22, 2018
Friday, November 30, 2018
#15: Minstrel's Glade
Selben |
“‘Twas named after a minstrel travelin'’ this same road. Went missin’ from ‘is friends an’ turned up along the trail a week later, killed by spirits: hanged from mid-air without ropes... with his ‘ands burned off ‘an ‘is balls ripped out. Not a vision for the faint o’ heart, my apologies, lass. ...I was but a wee dwarf when they coined the place, nearly a hunnerd years ago now. ‘Tis on dark, cold nights like this that ye hear the witches’ wailing o’er the chill o’ the wind...”
I take the opportunity after his tale to get to know Oreiron a bit. While he is an employee of Abbé Lira, he also shares Abbé’s care for the community, and seems to like serving as a guide for causes he deems worthwhile.
Zeb's Marionette |
“To what’s passage?” Audric asks, but the question goes unanswered.
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Thursday, November 15, 2018
#14: Peryton Pass
We awaken in the morning to find frost on the rooftops of
Westtower. The weather is chill, but not
unseasonably so—it punctuates, however, our desire to leave the wildlands and
arrive in Mirabar. Bonie’s revelations
are no comfort; several options lie before us, but Falinor somehow discovering
our plan seems almost a foregone conclusion.
As such, my prayers to the Beastlord have a tone of urgency.
We share our potential options with Erathmar. The merchant, to his credit, is on board with
Jent’s desire to leave Westtower, and is supportive of what we all think is the
just and right course of action. We
determine that smuggling Jent, his wife, and their child is the safest way to
proceed; at least in that case, there’s a chance that Jent’s absence goes
unnoticed and we depart without conflict, for we are all agreed that Falinor
will surely resist if we pursue our plan openly.
We plan to depart the next morning, trying as hard as
possible to emulate a normal departure.
Erathmar lets us know that he would usually leave before the sun rises,
so we make arrangements for Bonie to meet Jent and his family, and to smuggle
them into the wagons while we make preparations, hoping that the general chaos
of our departure screens their approach.
On our last day in Westtower, Audric stops to see Shandar to
thank him for what help he was able to provide, and the priest of Lathander
asks that, if we see the last caravan due to arrive from Mirabar, we share
the town’s dire need for supplies. We
consent to do so, and part in peace. As
a last matter of business, we decide to share our plans to depart with Falinor
and catch up with him the previous night.
“Twenty-seven. That is the
number of men that have died here since the beast men attacked. Your aid at the waterfall was certainly very
much appreciated. We could use a few
more able bodies like yourselves throughout the winter. Will you not consider extending your
stay?” Audric responds, saying that he
answers Mystra’s calling, and that it renders our desires in the matter
moot. Inside, I applaud Audric’s ability
to deceive without overt duplicity. We
offer to deliver a message to Mirabar, but his reply—odd, and somewhat
ominous—is that his own manner of communication is sufficient. We leave the discussion at that, with Falinor
seemingly disappointed in our decision.
Bonie shares that she also harbored fears that Falinor may
have tried to detain her, as well.
Though her contract with Falinor is over, she still worries that he
would try to keep her here, given the town’s dire circumstances.
Once we put some distance between us and Westtower, we give Jent consent to rejoin his wife and child. His wife’s name is Gabrielle, and their child Einin. They share their thanks, and for the moment at least, there is a lightness and joy to the group that has not been felt for some time.
The trail is hard but not overly so, the weather chill but not punishing. We travel a hard day, nearly twelve hours, eventually reaching the foothills. We decide to break for camp, and the conversation turns to Peryton Pass and how we plan to make our passage. We share what knowledge we know of the Pass’s namesake. Peryton are intelligent, malicious creatures that are known to attack men and feast upon their hearts. They operate in the daylight, which seems odd for such a creature, and sometimes in small packs. The most prudent path, assuming that the moon and weather allow, is to travel as much as we can during the night, in hopes that a confrontation can be avoided.
We prepare our camp, placing defenses both along the path we came—in the case that Falinor sends men after us—as well as further along the road, in the case of some enemy from that direction. One of the watches is disrupted by a scream in the night—perhaps the cry of an animal or some other beast, but far off, a mile or more—but besides raising the collected hairs on the backs of our necks, nothing else occurs.
We decide to split our second day of travel, half during the day, then resting until sundown and continuing our ascent into the night in the hopes that we avoid peryton and other threats. The incline is unforgiving, and by the time we break for the morning, we are all exhausted. As we wait for nightfall, Audric uses the opportunity to get to know Jent. Jent doesn’t have solid long-term plans, but he doesn’t see himself pursuing the life of a soldier. Perhaps he’ll find work as a smithy’s apprentice or some such but caring for his family is his primary goal. Bonie feels sympathy for the man’s decisions and desire to care for his own, and shares that she may have a contact that can help Jent out.
I seize the opportunity to push Bonie on her contact, as we have left the matter untouched until now. She reveals that he is the Abbé Lira, an abbot who keeps residence in Mirabar. He is not a political figure or member of any known organization, he’s more an independent operator. Audric questions his title of abbot and asks what his fealty may be, wondering if he is associated with a church or priesthood but she reveals that she doesn’t actually know. His intentions, however, seem to lean towards good more than all else, helping those that need helped, so she and Larimo never had need to question his motivations. Their trust in Abbé Lira is enough for me, and Bonie agrees to arrange a meeting for me and Audric.
We pick up our journey at sundown, preparing for a vigorous ascent. We wind around mountain trails, blessed by a strong moon to illuminate our path. It reveals a mangled heap ahead, perhaps twenty feet from the trail. As we approach, the scent nearly overwhelms us, and we begin to make out horrifying details—a wrecked wagon, slaughtered horses, and what appears to be a mangled corpse. Almost certainly, this is the caravan bound for Westtower.
The corpse is revealed to be that of a dwarf. Scattered about are blankets, hides, tools—and to the best of our ability, we determine that the wagon toppled from the path above. Erathmar and his men spare a few precious minutes to load what can be salvaged onto his wagons, and we continue our ascent. We get to the ridge where we believe the wagon may have fallen from—there we find mounds of loose dirt, and around them are drawn the symbol of an anvil and hammer. We assume these to be dwarven graves, which hint at a potential survivor or survivors.
Besides the grave, there is only one area perhaps fifty feet from the trail where a cave or alcove may lie. We spur the wagons on while Audric and I investigate. It is indeed a shallow alcove and lying in the back of it are several unmoving forms. There are two more dwarven corpses, one of which has a recently amputated leg. The other is mutilated, but both seem to have been cared for, their wounds mended. We leave the alcove, but before we can rejoin the caravan, we hear screams. On the rock faces, we can see several attackers—goblinoids with eyes that glow in the moonlight.
While Erathmar and his men see that the horses don’t bolt, we rally and manage to drive the foes off into the night. Bonie shares that goblins are not known to inhabit the pass—given how strategic the placement of this pass is, and that the other caravan was also attacked by goblins, she thinks this could be a bigger strategic move to isolate the Khedrun Valley. Whether this is pure speculation or if it has some root in truth we know not, but Mirabar needs to know, in any case, as the goblins we’ve encountered so far seem to possess more intelligence than usually evidenced by such creatures. We travel the rest of the night safely until sunrise, where we break for a rest.
DM's note: The goblins bear the following mark upon their foreheads, drawn in a primitive war paint. The symbol is unfamiliar.
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Monday, November 12, 2018
Index of the Valley of Khedrun
Following are links to each session recap from the campaign. Access this post quickly using the “~index” label on the right, or use the “session recaps” label for all recap posts.
First arc:
(1354 DR)
- Shadfeld
- The Razing
- The Prisoner
- Devils in the Village
- Refugees
- The Old Keep
- Ignish
- The Goddess of the Hunt
- A Statue Among Men
- Bonie and Larimo
- The Demise
- The Road from Carrock
- West Tower
- Peryton Pass
- Minstrel's Glade
- The Anaithnid
- Defier of Death
- The Hunt
- Longsaddle
- By the Skin of Their Teeth
- Deliverance (Part One), Parting the Veil (Part Two)
(1255 DR)
- From the Ashes
- A Fate Worse Than Death
- Dagger's Deep
- Rock and a Hard Place
- Unexpected Guests
- The River
- The Prophecy
- Home Sweet Home
- The Battle for Dagger's Deep
- Old News
- ?
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Monday, November 5, 2018
The secret travelers
It was a cold morning in West Tower, though the frost coating the rooftops would vanish well before highsun. Bonie's nimble feet padded silently from the lodge where she'd slept, finding Audric and Zeb alone in the village, the pair having just convened with Erathmar to ensure that preparations to depart remained on schedule.
The girl wore her customary dark leathers and roan overcloak. Her blond hair, as always, was tied back, her longsword sheathed at her side. Sapphire eyes bore into her companions with urgency. She spoke to them in whispers.
"Jent and his family must accompany us to Mirabar: the man, his wife, and their babe, an infant. No one but the merchant can know."
In-character replies are welcome.
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Friday, October 26, 2018
#13: West Tower
Departing Shadfeld, we travel for the better part of a
day under reasonable weather towards Westtower.
We estimate the trip will take 3-4 days of cautious travel, for
caution—being far enough away now from Carrock that an expeditious return isn’t
possible—is now our primary goal.
Several mountain passes lie between us and our goal,
making travel treacherous at times, and at times the road, such that it is,
leads us far away from the guidance of the River Mirar. Bonie, on her trip from Westtower to
Shadfeld, encounter no trouble with Larimo—we hope to share their luck on this
return leg of the journey. At the end of
our first day, we find a place to camp and go about the routine of breaking
down the wagons and preparing for first watch.
Fortunately, the night passes uneventfully.

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6% on Rotten Tomatoes! |
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Tuesday, October 23, 2018
The art of preparing to run a session
As a disclaimer, this post is as much for my own future reference as it is for anyone who might be reading (but don't let that stop you...).
Sean and I talk about this topic quite a bit, particularly since he's still relatively new to DMing. How to prepare for a D&D session is something you learn and refine through practice and experience over years of running campaigns. There's no magic formula, and what works for one person may not work for anybody else. It's like studying for an exam in that everyone's brain processes and retains information differently, so you have to figure out through experimentation what works best for you. That said, while there aren't any empirical rules, I can still share and document my approach.
Two axes: geographical and temporal
As the prospective DM, whether you're kicking off the inaugural session of a new campaign or continuing to run a party with many notches in its belt, the idea of being accountable to an entire fantasy world can feel extremely daunting. Where do you begin? Do you start by fleshing out local governments, agencies, or dungeons that exist across the countryside, or notable NPCs throughout the region? If you're running a homebrew world, the climb can seem particularly steep, but even in an established setting with a wealth of published material like Forgotten Realms, you may feel like the game world holds you to an impossible standard. (In that case, the first thing to realize is that using a published world should never hurt you more than it helps, and if that's happening you may do well to reconsider your choice. Further musings on that here.)
To the question of where to begin your prep work, my unequivocal answer is "Here and now." The first thing I need to do when faced with a massive decision tree is prune away as many branches as possible to get to what I care about. No one realistically has time to detail every last person, building, and statistic in a game world, so focus on those that carry the most imminent importance. To wit: I don't need to know what will happen in the party's current location six months from now; I also don't need to know what will happen a hundred miles away tomorrow.
These simple assertions drastically reduce the complexity of the problem. I'm not running a campaign where the long-term outcome is already determined, so events unrelated to the party's current time frame or location are of little concern to my next several hours of DMing. This doesn't mean that I completely eschew what may be happening in other areas, but that I need only have a vague notion of those details, and shouldn't make them the focus of my attention since they're unlikely to impact the party over the short term. Having the PCs overhear in a crowded taproom that trolls have begun encroaching on the north border and nearby villages are petitioning for aid is likely to be enough. It's conceivable that the party could take interest in this hook, so I definitely need to be able to convey anything else the local citizenry might know, in addition to accommodating an initiative by the party to set out for the border. That said, I shouldn't prioritize fleshing out this region unless I fully expect the players to take the lead and arrive at the destination. More likely, I'll end up doing this planning several sessions down the road, if ever.
Rather than dive into rabbit holes that may consume hours of planning that I won't use, I want to concern myself most with happenings around the party in an immediate sense, geographically and temporally. If the session is set to open in a town, castle, or dungeon, I need to be well-versed in the ecology of the site: what individuals or populations reside there, how they interact, what sustains/motivates them, and any pressing urgencies to which they're attending. Ecology feels like a greatly undervalued concept in preparing a game; often, too much focus is given to drawing up specific scenes or encounters envisioned in the mind of the DM. While there are instances where this is useful or appropriate, if I truly understand the ecology of the actors in the game world, I should be reasonably well-equipped to adjudicate any situation that arises during the session, even if I need to ad-lib a few names or stop to roll an NPC's hit points or ability scores. If there are individuals for which I suspect these numbers will be needed, I'll roll them up ahead of time.
The further you look down the party's intended path, the fewer details you need to know. If the PCs are embarking on a journey that leads them through a series of towns and villages, I should know the ecology of each settlement at least at a macro level, but I definitely need to more thoroughly immerse myself in the locations the party will spend time in first. Any substantial event, encounter, or distraction has the possibility, based on decisions by the players and whims of the dice, to sidetrack or significantly delay the party's course. I might put a great deal of work into readying myself to run the first village along the road, but the further out I look, the hazier my view becomes. While I might be able to make a confident assumption that the party will arrive in the first village and take part in its dealings, my confidence wanes considerably with each subsequent hop along the journey. The foggier my take on the party's future, the fewer specifics I prepare. This approach serves me in multiple ways: first, I avoid putting time and effort into preparation that has a higher chance of not being needed, and second, because I haven't invested this effort, I feel less compelled, consciously or otherwise, to force the PCs down a path I prepared, giving them more freedom of choice and control over their destiny. When it comes to actually running the game, I want to be the unbiased referee, not the puppet master pulling the strings. Had I spent hours writing up details on the north border region with the trolls, I'd be more likely to artificially steer to party toward taking the hook, when they may not have any real interest in pursuing.
Predetermined vs. triggered events
In addition to interactions between people and locations, I make sure to plan through any predetermined events that I've "scheduled" to occur irrespective of the party's actions. Ideally, these events have been logically derived from the ecology of the area. For example, if I know that orcs are plotting an assault against a local village, I should determine, before the session begins, when the attack will occur, how many orcs are invading, what the attackers' entry points and strategy will be, and so forth. The date and time can be chosen outright or be assigned a degree of variance (e.g., 1d4 nights after the next full moon, when the orc chieftain gathers his forces on the mountainside). Wherever the PCs happen to be at this time, the raid will be executed, unless they do something in the interim to subvert the orcs. Preparing for events and allowing them to play out regardless of the party's actions helps create realism in the campaign world. Not everything needs to specifically revolve around the characters, even though I might only plan in detail the events in their vicinity.
On the opposite end of the spectrum are "triggered" events, which are common in published modules, especially in manipulative settings like Ravenloft. Triggered events should be used sparingly in any game that doesn't want to predestine the characters' path; examples are akin to "The innkeeper is kidnapped the night after the PCs investigate the cemetery," or "Whenever the PCs walk past the town constable, they overhear him negotiating the assassination of the mayor." These types of events can be exciting, but they also make assumptions about how the characters must act in order to fulfill the DM's narrative. This approach to running a game isn't strictly right or wrong, but comes with strings attached that steer the campaign toward an outcome largely not determined by the players, and this isn't something that's desirable for every group.
Not exactly "points of light"
Finally, trimming decision tree branches and preparing in less detail the further out you go is similar to, but not the same as, the idea of "points of light" (formalized as a setting concept in D&D 4e), which asserts that there exists a collection of known, civilized areas and that everything in between is mostly uncharted or "dark." While the planning approach I've outlined tends to evoke the feel that the party's immediate surroundings are a "point of light" amid the darkness, this is only necessarily true in terms of your own planning as DM. The regions and timelines outside your short-term scope of interest may be extremely well defined in source material or to the inhabitants of the game world. It's only that you, the DM, don't need to concern yourself with details beyond what's relevant to the party given its present course.
I think I'll end here for now, as this post is lengthening and mostly a result of stream of consciousness writing. Happy to read anyone's comments.
Wednesday, October 10, 2018
#12: The Road from Carrock
After nearly a week of waiting, we finally get a chance to
meet with both Bonie and Larimo to discuss plans for the future. He has been long in recovery, and it is our
hope to persuade them both to accompany us back to Mirabar. Larimo expresses thanks to Audric for aiding
in his healing, but eventually confides that he feels too old to make the trip,
though he hopes that we’ll take care of Bonie.
We learn that he is a cleric of Garl Glittergold.
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Monday, July 16, 2018
The Wolf and the Lion
A nearby fire crackles, the only disturbance of an otherwise quiet night. Though it has been several days since the encounter with Carcerus and Zeb's ultimate retribution of Korvich, Zeb's sleep has been elusive, fitful when managed, and many late nights have been spent sitting, starting at the flame.
This night, arranged before Zeb are the grim trophies of the last few weeks. Crude tokens, symbols of Malar carved from bone worn by the cultists Ignish and Tesk, made impure by Korvich's corruption of the faith.
Korvich's own fetish, this one decorated with the priest's trophies of notable kills, an assortment of teeth and talons. Within the tangled mess is a beaten piece of metal, onto which is engraved the Claw of Malar, almost an afterthought to the other trophies. Korvich clearly had a warped sense of priorities.
Next to the fetish is a shriveled, hard piece of dried flesh, which still reeks of the smoke and fire used to cure the meat. Now unrecognizable, it nevertheless makes Zeb grin when he sees it--the tongue of Korvich, cut out by Zeb's own hand in retribution for the priest's foolish pride and false vorishnaad.
There is one last trophy, of a sort. The carved, wooden symbol of Nobanion, the self-proclaimed "King of Beasts". It's not really a trophy--Zeb didn't kill Maglarosh, after all, nor did he necessarily desire the man's death--but it has caused Zeb consternation since he first set his eyes upon it, and he didn't know what else to do with it.
The dislike between the two cults is long-established, distilled--at its simplest--to a difference in perspective, and perhaps in execution. Both faiths venerate the beast, but it's Nobanion's naive notions of community, compassion, and dignity that highlight his weakness. When missionaries of Nobanion brave the wastes in search of converts among the beast cults, they are confronted by the harsh realities of that cold, barren land, and of the singular mindset--survival at all costs--that it takes to avoid becoming prey.
Zeb stands, sheathing the knife, then returns to his place by the fire, gesturing for Selben to join him. They had spent the last few days cloistered together in Ethelenda's workroom beneath the Tower of Carrock, and Zeb found that Selben's company--as well as the young man's eagerness to relearn his lost arcane talents--was comforting.
"What's that?" asks Selben, bending over to pick up the talisman to Nobanion. Zeb loops the other trophies back onto his belt, then steps forward, taking the crude wooden symbol from Selben. "This?" Zeb says, holding the token in his palm. "Nothing. Nothing important, in any case." Zeb tosses it into the nearby fire, pauses for a moment to watch it ignite, then turns to look at Selben, seemingly satisfied.
"This, however," Zeb says, withdrawing something from one of his numerous pouches, "is for you. I meant to give it to you earlier." Zeb gestures for Selben to step forward, and Zeb hangs a leather thong around the young man's neck. From it dangles an hourglass-shaped piece of bone, harvested from the tail of Carcerus' slain form. Both men take seats near the fire. "What's it for?" Selben asks.
"Protection, Selben," replies Zeb quietly. Silence lingers for several heartbeats, only disturbed by the pop of the fire. "For protection," he mutters again, more to himself than anyone else. Selben seems satisfied by that, holding the bone between his thumb and forefinger, and the remainder of the night passes with the two men sitting together in silence.