Greyhame Mountain Dungeon Expedition 11

Orcs have returned to the caverns of the Glimmervaults;
the Goblin King and the Lord of Werewolves have renewed their ancient alliance beneath the Howling Tower;
and the secret treasury of the ancient Bronding Kings is said to lie somewhere behind the Brokenbrand Falls, haunted by enchanting naiads ...

...

and Jaer the Windlord is said to look down on the world below from the Eyries of the Eagles on Greyhame Mountain itself ...


23 November's roster:
Mizer (magic-user 3)
with Thorngrim and Arngrim (two normal men), as well as a mastiff, a half-wolf, and a boarhound
Blackleaf (Elf 2)
with Johann Haybaler and Dol (two normal men), as well as Droopy and Snoopy (both mastiffs)


Blackleaf also bought a sprig of nightshade, said to be helpful against enchantments if worn; and she glanced at the nosegay of dragonrose, said to put reptilian beasties like dragons to sleep, but didn't ultimately purchase it.

Thus equipped and with a full party of hirelings and dogs, Mizer acquiesced to Blackleaf's burning desire to return to the Brokenbrand Falls to seek out the turtle philosopher there, and to denude him of his remaining eleven gems. To this end, they borrowed the maps from Little Bob (who has heretofore generally been the party mapper), and then set out for the falls.

On the first day, a storm blew up, destroying a spear, plate armor, twelve arrows, a week of rations, and a shield; it was raining all the rest of the way. Then, on the third night, just before arriving, the party was surrounded by ghouls--they did what I had hoped "concreteness" for the wilderness attrition would allow, and reacted by offering to use holy water, flasks of oil, and the web spell to help reduce attrition, all of which I allowed (and I rolled a random number for vials of holy water and flasks of oil), and they managed to maintain a defensive ring around their camp and to drive the ghouls away by morning.

Arriving at the falls, Blackleaf got out the maps from Little Bob and realized they made very little sense, given that they're spread over three pieces of parchment, and include distant areas drawn close together on the same map, duplicate areas that don't quite match up, etc. She had a general idea of where to go to return to the great pool, but couldn't see how the areas all matched up.

Nevertheless, they went in, and turning east in the first series of halls where the green slimes tend to grow along the ceilings, they indeed found a colony. Finding it before it could surprise them, they burned it away with oil and torches; and then, looking at the map, figured they could find a quicker route to the large chamber with the falls itself than the circuitous southwestern route taken by other expeditions. This proved true; but the way was also blocked by five large fungal growths in the chamber that led down to the long hall.

Mizer mentioned the possibility of shriekers as the party hurled oil flasks at the fungi; and yet none of the flasks hit, but either sailed over and past, or were just dropped at the feet of the adventurers. Plucking up some courage, Mizer crept into the room with his torch, hoping to burn one, and then sure enough, a horrible shrieking started coming from two of the fungi; meanwhile, the others began shuffling toward the party.

They sent the dogs in, while the humans stayed back and hurled missiles at the fungi; this tactic worked quite well, and soon all the fungal growths were destroyed, largely torn apart by wardog teeth. Only one of the dogs was seriously hit, and had wisps of fungal tendrils sprouting from where a fungus had struck him; Blackleaf carved the infected flesh away with a knife, injuring the dog, but successfully cutting out the infection.

Beyond the fungi, a set of stairs led down into a long north-south pillared hall that at its northern end turned east. Checking around that way, the party found the eastern hall led to a great pool, while the pillars became stalagmite/stalactite columns carved to look like trees and which bore jeweled fruits. There was also a cave leading down into the depths; but Blackleaf remembered that the party had come down from the north after the first encounter with the turtle; checking the water, they found a path of stepping stones in the water that led north, against the current, and along which the party thence followed.

Something struck at one of the dogs from the water's deeps--something silver and flashing and big--but it didn't get a firm bite, and the party went quickly enough against the current to avoid any further interactions with it.

Coming out onto a shore of stone, the party found a stair that led up and to the north; following this, around several windings, they ultimately came out into a sun-filled canyon with the stream flowing south on their right, and a stair leading up under the cliffs. On their left was a door which they ignored, and on their right, into the cliff over the streams, a grotto, which they likewise ignored. Following the stairs all the way, they came to a bridge that spanned over the stream and onto an arcing east/north shore of stone around a large pool of crystal clear water, open to the sun and surrounded by high rock walls. On the north shore stood an image of Astora, Elf-Queen, at the base of which lounged several naiads.

This was the pool where the turtle had been, but the turtle-philosopher was not currently present.

When the naiads saw the party, they swam over, making eyes at the men in the party (everyone except Blackleaf, really)--that is, until they saw that no one had a higher than average Charisma. Dol the former fyrdman exchanged a couple winks with the naiads, which somewhat encouraged them, but Blackleaf put a stop to that by glaring and reminding Dol that he was on her dole.

Dol, right before Blackleaf stamped on his foot and reminded him he works for her ...

Without any takers, the naiads rolled their eyes and flounced away downstream.

Looking for the turtle, Blackleaf stuck her head in the water--she saw something glittering at the bottom of the preternaturally clear pool, but no turtle. An attempt to swim down (taking armor off before) resulted in her just getting caught up in the current and swept south until she could grab the shore and haul herself out, dripping and cold.

Now, around the pool, into both the northern and eastern cliff walls, were several entrances into further dungeon areas; the party decided to investigate the one whence issued a stream that fed into the pool. Following that corridor, they came to a room with a basin of water within which stood a naiad statue, and which was filled with the debris of several huge spiders, egg sacs, and several desiccated corpses (Blackleaf here recalled the spiders that almost killed Lead several expeditions back). Heading north from there, the party entered a room with a pool fed by a fall from the northwest, an image of a Bronding king against the north, a stair up and through the west wall--and a sleeping turtle-philosopher with eleven gleaming gems in its shell, off to the northeast.

Blackleaf, overexcited, convinced Mizer to cast web on the sleeping creature, thus entrapping it in a net of sticky strands. The casting of the spell awoke the turtle, and as it opened its eyes and witnessed the party approaching, it began to speak. What's this? Do you all think I'm some kind of beast, inconsiderable of moral standing, or are you such cravens that you just go around casting spells on helpless individuals all the time, eh? Do you cretins even know what moral standing is, or how you would determine whether a thing is worthy of consideration? Well?

All of the hirelings and Mizer as well failed their saves against this tirade of philosophy and stood entranced as the turtle began to elucidate the nature of parsing moral standing (this, while the turtle also began to rock and struggle to break free of the webs--it looked like it would get out before too long ...). Blackleaf, however, succeeded in her save, and with her dogs (which, being beasts, gave not a whit to the turtle's philosophizing), she stepped forward and started attacking the webbed turtle.

I see that you, like all your pointy-eared kind, care nothing for the suffering of others! the turtle declared as Blackleaf's sword and the teeth of her dogs scrabbled and clanged on his shell. But he could do nothing other than rage impotently, trying to break free of the webs. After two short rounds of attacks, he was bleeding and beaten enough that he simply dropped his head. Take all my jewelry, he said. Just please don't kill me.

Then Blackleaf called off her dogs, pried the gems free from the turtle's shell, and then the turtle, with a surprising speed, fled into the water and went away downstream, bloodying the water.

Each of the eleven gems seemed to be worth about 1000 gold; and with their ill-won jewelry, the party elected to quickly return home. Back in the large chamber with the pool, they briefly spied the turtle's head above water, but then he vanished quickly again beneath the waves.

Also, on their way out, they glanced into a shallow cave in the northeast corner of the chamber, and saw within an old skeleton crouched in death on a great throne, with a crown of nine glittering diamonds upon its head. Blackleaf, ever greedy, reached out with her sword to lift the crown, and immediately she touched it, a mist rose up all around, misty figures within, and a ghostly voice questioned, Art thou so certain thou art worthy of mine crown?

Wanting none of this, Blackleaf returned the crown, and the mists dissipated; and then the party fled out of the dungeon, and back down the stairs by the waterfall at the entrance. Dol managed to fall in, and yet never resurfaced. Going into the water to look for him, Blackleaf glimpsed him swim away with a group of naiads, but lost sight of them in the churning water under the falls.

On the way back to town, while fording a river, the party lost 12 arrows, a dagger, a shield, a week of rations, and all of Mizer's torches; then, that night, in a bout of hypothermia, Mizer managed to further lose a shield, sword, another week of rations, and more ammunition (he put them down somewhere during a shivering bout, but when he woke up the next morning, not dead, could not recall what he'd done with them ... sure, that'll work).

Back in town, Blackleaf used her portion of the proceeds from the gems (some 5500 gp) to pay off her 5000 gp debt to the thieves' guild, leaving her barely in the black. She then went to Lailith, the lawful good cleric of St. Ursula in town, and talked over some of the stuff the turtle had said, which had stuck with her, and ultimately felt something of remorse. She now feels that she must do something in restitution for the turtle, if she truly is to gain a human soul and the empathy that it entails.

Meanwhile, Mizer caroused, and managed to win himself a reputation as the life of the party in Brakeridge--any further carousing in that town will cost double for normal the amount of xp, until or unless he does something to change that reputation.

------

Remembrance for the Fallen
Orion II (lion dog), Bacon (boar hound), Tore (half-orc fighter 1/cleric 1), Jimmy the Snitch (dog), Orion (lion dog), Harambe (man-ape 1)

And for those Enchanted Away
Dol (fyrdman hireling)

the Cult of the Beautiful Life -- Worshiping Ke$ha

I've been kicking this idea around in my head for a while, to create a religion using Kesha's lyrics as the sacred texts, but tonight on the drive back up from Boise, Kesha blaring from the CD player, some ideas finally clicked. So here goes ... (all the links except the last about the "Otter Bacchanalia" are links to Kesha's songs on YouTube)

The Star Goddess

On a certain summer night, when the moon is heavy with light, and the star winds blow and scatter their glimmerings in a great river of light across the sky, the clashing of timbrels and the cries of women in ekstasis will arise in the city. On this night, the central mystery of the Beautiful Life will once more be ritually played out atop the highest hill, in full view of the stars, as it is done every year, and ever has been, and ever shall be.

The women of the city who are members of the cult--they call themselves the Beautiful--will gather in the the market in answer to the cries and the clash of the timbrels. Others will come as well; Elves, as fellow star-children, will be found in their midst; hangers-on who know of the revelry to come, will wait nearby to follow the procession and join in the celebrations after the mystery ritual is complete; and some few men who have been selected to join in the ritual and the revelry, and who are already swaying, drunk from wine, will have already gathered in the square with the priestesses.

Thus assembled, the entire group will process forth through the city, led by priestesses raising the thyrsus-staves, accompanied by girls bearing jars of wine and of water, all chanting incantations to the Star Goddess and her lover, and banging their timbrels and drums. Any who are to be initiated that night go silently, draped in heavy black robes that hide their features, while those who are already initiated have painted themselves with vibrant colors, and adorned their wrists, arms, ankles and waists with silver and gold while their bodies are decked with robes and dresses of every hue.

"We R Who We R!" sings the procession, proclaiming to themselves and to the world their intent to live to the fullest, to fulfill their own desires, and to love themselves as they are. "Got that glitter on our eyes, stockings all ripped up the sides, looking sick and sexified! ... We're dancing like we're dumb, bodies going numb, we'll be forever young ..."

That, and "Take It Off", singing, "There's a place downtown where the freaks all come around, there's a hole in the wall, it's a dirty free for all ... When the dark of the night comes around, that's the time that the animal comes alive looking for something wild ..."

Singing all the way, the procession of the Beautiful march and dance and sway in wine-drunkenness out from the city, marching through half the night until they come to the place of their secret and sacred rites. This is a hill somewhere in the hinterlands, high enough to be close to the stars, and broad enough at its crest thereon to hold a wild revelry. In the days before, a great bonfire has been built up by the women of the cult; but it remains unlit yet, as the cult gathers atop the hill, and the hangers-on wait beneath the crest, afraid of the consequences of profaning the mysteries with uninitiated eyes. (For indeed, they have heard what happens to those who are too eager to join ... "Cannibal" -- "I eat boys up, breakfast and lunch, then when I'm thirsty, I'll drink their blood ... Carnivore, animal, I am a cannibal, I eat boys up, you better run")

------

The first thing that must be done is the initiation of new members. Before the pyre is lit, in the darkness that represents the darkness of death whence the Star Goddess was born, and shall ever be born again and again until the end of all things, the initiates are brought forward in their black robes. The priestess sings to them ("Rainbow"), singing about needing to emerge from the darkness--"I used to live in the darkness, dress in black, act so heartless; but now I see that colors are everything; got kaleidoscopes in my hairdo, got back the stars in my eyes, too, and now I see the magic inside of me."

In the process of this chant, the priestess removes the black robes, until the initiates stand naked before the cult; then, as the pyre is lit, the Beautiful step forward to paint the initiates' skin with paints of red and blue and every hue, and to adorn them with silver and gold, and to wrap their bodies in brilliant robes, which will all stand forth in full color as the pyrelight climbs higher. The initiates are asked to recite the tenets of the Star Goddess and the Beautiful Life--the answers to these questions are found in a number of songs they would have learned back in the city, and sung to themselves to retain their mysteries.

The tenets are:

First, all that matters is the Beautiful Life--life should be a striving toward transcendence, especially through drinking, dancing, and sex, but really through any activity that fills a body with joy. ("All That Matters (The Beautiful Life")

Secondly, be an Animal and a Warrior--love yourself for who you are, not for who you "should" be (this is essentially a basic tenet of Chaos, so it should be obvious at this point that this is a Chaos cult)

Thirdly, the fulfillment of the Beautiful Life is to find and join with the Lover. There are entire myth and poetic cycles of the Star Goddess and her Lover, reincarnated over and over again through vast epochs, ever seeking each other out. This Lover is usually depicted as a man (or especially as a dragon when the Joy he/it represents is more metaphorical), but sometimes the sexes are reversed, and the Star Goddess is a kind of king over the stars, and her lover is the female moon, pregnant with light ... essentially, any imagery can stand in here; the point is that a soul is reincarnated over and over again until it can finally fulfill itself in the Beautiful Life ... "Past Lives" is the best articulation of this idea ("We were lovers in a past life, I can see it in your green eyes; maybe you were one of my wives in a long lost tribe ...")

Lastly, that fulfillment is in the return to the Stars (whence all souls are born) and thence the rebirth of the Star Goddess and another cycle of new souls seeking the Beautiful Life, best expressed in the song "Spaceship" ("I'm waiting for my spaceship to come back for me ... look up in the sky and there they'll be, I bet you'll think of me ...")

------

Once the initiates have sufficiently expressed their understanding of these mysteries, they step back and join the rest of the Beautiful, and join them in two songs, one "Praying," a prayer that is a rejection of the dominance of the Lawful cults, which they see as constricting the ability of human souls to fulfill the Beautiful Life with all their emphasis on duties, self-restraint, marriage, etc. And then they sing a "Hymn" for themselves, which is a full exaltation in their own Beauty and perfectness as they are, and in their seeking for their own ultimate fulfillment.

And then, of course, they TAKE IT OFF! Wine flows, and is cast into the fire as a sacrifice to the Star Goddess, who looks down in gladness from the stars above; incense is burned, and cannabis and opium imbibed; clothes come off, the drums beat to the beat of the heart, bodies writhe, cries of ekstasis and enthusiasmus are raised to the stars and their eternal light. All inhibitions are forgot. All that occurs here is sanctioned by the Star Goddess; taboos are overturned; only excess is sacred.

It is this point at which the hangers-on ascend to the hilltop, to partake in the revelry, which continues until morning, or even well into the next day and evening. Naturally, there are consequences--legendary hang-overs; men and women dead or mad from wine-sickness; unintended pregnancies. But though Lawful authorities hate these revels, they fear to punish those who return, for fear of the anger of the Goddess and her maenads ... certain tyrants in the past have sought to quash the secret rites, and have then ended up in the midst of the revelries themselves, wine-mad, and finally torn limb from limb by the ekstatic Beautiful ...

A man being torn apart by bacchantes (Tiresias, actually)

This cult being Chaotic, it is entirely reasonable for non-initiated but Chaotic characters to act as hangers-on, to follow the procession out into the hills, and to wait until the mysteries are completed, but then to join in the wild revelry thereafter. I would treat this as carousing, but at double or triple the normal xp for the normal cost, and probably come up with a unique table to roll for failures ... sounds like a future blog post, anyway.

Chaotic women may, of course, also just join the cult as initiates. If they do so, they may attend the revelry, gain triple xp, and not suffer any mishaps (not the first time, at least ...)--and yes, this is a female-only cult. In the future, I may write a secondary male cult--or write up rules for male priests like those of Cybele who would castrate themselves--but for now, the Cult of the Beautiful is women-only.

And obviously, attending these rites in any matter as a non-Chaotic comes with consequences. A character neutral in regard to Law and Chaos who joins in the revelry must thereafter be considered Chaotic--they have fully engaged with the raw energy of Chaos, and though they may not be of the Beautiful, they are now aligned against the Lawful cults. As for Lawfuls to attend the revels and enjoy themselves, that is a serious breach of their own alignment, and they must seek atonement from some character of higher rank within the Lawful cults--and they gain no xp bonuses or alignment benefits from Lawfulness until they atone, as well as some other appropriate penalty, e.g. clerics losing their spells, or a curse laid upon a fighter by his god for his failure.

------

Lastly, I should mention that there is another, rival cult, the House of Gog, whose members call themselves Monsters ... I have little to say concerning this cult at the moment ...

... and there are a couple lesser disciples of such Dionysian revelries and lyric poetry--Katherine of Perrin, and Cyris of Milyta--who are semi-Sapphic, and whose lyrics echo both cults (of the Beautiful Life, and of the House of Gog); and yet neither of which have quite the same following ...

------

I'll probably be coming up with some kind of random table for things one might see/find at a bacchanal of the Cult of the Beautiful, probably along the lines of Jesse Goldshear's Otter Bacchanalia, which is great, and you should check it out! ... but piecing together the tenets of this Ke$ha cult has taken up too much space yet.

Some Local Color ... a Sketch of Brakeridge

The town of Brakeridge lies in the southern marches of the realm ruled by Vialar (self-styled "the Good," but colloquially known as "the Cruel"), a realm which is a remnant of the wider kingdom once ruled by the old Bronding Kings. To the east of Brakeridge by about three days' travel lies the Greyhame Mountain Dungeon, contained within the southern spur of Greyhame Mountain itself, and an object of much interest in the past few months as adventurers have once again begun expeditioning within its depths with some regularity, unearthing ancient treasures.

Despite its name, Brakeridge actually lies mostly beneath the Oak Ridge and to the south of it, a height that was anciently lined with ancient oaks and other trees, but which stands mostly naked of trees in these latter days. From atop the Oak Ridge, the aptly named Oakridge Castle overlooks the town, the castle being the seat of the local overlord.

To the south, across the Whetstone River (not the river fed by the Brokenbrand Falls, for those curious) and about two days' travel on foot, the village of Kallia and surrounding farmlands sprawl through the valleys, also subject to the local lord of Oakridge Castle. Meanwhile, north along the trade road, about a week away at most, the nearest neighbor of civilization is the walled town of Bardastead, a freetown with a charter, ruled over by a council of its own aldermen (still subject to Vialar, of course).

If one were to travel further north, one would cross through a pass and ultimately come into the personal demesne of Vialar under King's Mountain; or, taking the southern trade road beyond Kallia, one would ultimately end up in the southern city-state of Calpurnia (where my other game is "home-based"), or even ultimately find oneself in the original city-state with my first megadungeon, the Catacombs.

And to the east, across the wall of north-south mountains of which the Greyhame is a part, lies the vast and mysterious forest of the Dwimmerholt, wooded realm of Elfin queens, werewolves, and the semi-barbarous tribes of the Getae, who were driven thence by the victorious arms of the Brondings.

------

As of this writing, Morholt remains the local overlord in Oakridge Castle--and yet, he is a usurper, no legitimate heir to the seat of power. The rightful lord, one Albrecht, died some months before the renewed interest of adventurers in the Greyhame Mountain Dungeons; and in a surprise move, Morholt, who had heretofore been a trusted captain, with a small army of mercenaries seized both the castle and Albrecht's widow, the Lady Sonora.

Installing himself as lord, Morholt has made it known that he intends to marry Sonora and thus appropriate the lordship of the castle both physically and legally. However, Sonora continues to resist, and thus continues to be imprisoned in the keep; and it is said that Morholt is in seek of a philter of love, that he might arrange the marriage without the legal trouble of coercion.

Considering these events, the local populace is rather disgruntled, as they thought Albrecht a just lord and the lady Sonora a woman of excellent taste in the arranging of feasts. A delegation of villagers was sent to Vialar in the north to complain, but nothing has been heard back from them, and as Morholt continues to send tribute, there seems little hope that Vialar should care to intervene. Moreover, because Morholt is an avid hunter and an great carouser and feaster, the cost of his lordship has lain heavily on the people he taxes, and the people are suffering under his avaricious demands.

------

Within the town itself are a few places of interest:

the "Citadel" -- a watchtower, part of what was going to be a wall around Brakeridge to help better incorporate the township; the tower remains, but the walls were pulled down by Morholt's mercenaries, as he feared the rising of the locals against his usurpation. Moreover, Morholt has disbanded the local fyrd/militia, and stocked the watchtower with a company of his own mercenaries, who supposedly keep watch and keep the peace, but who more often abuse and fine townsfolk with little reason. The tower is called "the Citadel" as a kind of local joke, it being the only fortification within town, and yet still only a simple thing.

the Brokenoak Inn -- the oldest inn establishment in town, the Brokenoak is a long meadhall in imitation of the old Bronding halls, complete with an oak standing in the center as a support pillar for the center of the roof, and a dais with an honorseat (reserved for special occasions or special guests). The oak, as the name suggests, is broken--of old, a lightning bolt blasted off the top limbs, leaving a kind of pillar, around which the inn was subsequently built. Cheap fares net a guest a shut-bed in the hall; guests with more coin, however, can reserve a room in one of the outbuildings around the hall itself.

John's Place -- a simple watering hole for both locals and for the merchants and traders coming and going on the north-south trade road. There always seem to be men and women here looking for rough work, either mercenaries or laborers willing to port treasure out of a dungeon for a fee; also, the trade in war dogs along the north-south road is strangely constant, probably fed in part by Morholt's and other lords' obsession with hunting, so there are war dogs available for sale here weekly.

the Black Dragon's Meed -- (and note well the pun on "meed: reward/recompense"/"mead: alcohol from fermented honey"!) a new inn in town and a perfect place for adventurers to rent rooms and to carouse after their delves beneath the dungeon. The proprietors are Sten, a veteran halfling adventurer, and Henry, a magic-user of some repute. They may have information, advice, or perhaps even magic available for those with enough coin ...

the Shrine of Saint Ursula -- another new structure in town, built by the higher level cleric Lailith and dedicated to her Lawful Good cult of Saint Ursula, a kind of dual-deity by accident: because of the name and some of the imagery of the cult, the local people have taken Ursula to be a mother-bear goddess; which is not inappropriate, considering that the saint is one known for her especial protection of mothers and children. Lailith offers regular healing services to the local populace, and is also capable of raising dead characters back to life for the paltry sum of 300 gold (her fee as of this writing).

the Shrine of Adonai -- the newest (as of this writing) structure in town, right now a humble wooden image off to the side of the village green. This Adonai is another Lawful Good god, a god of justice, carved as a kingly figure with a sword in his lap, pouring out drink from a horn with his right hand. The image was raised by Aetheulwulf, a newly minted paladin and a delver into the Greyhame Mountain Dungeon.

the Shrine of Peoni -- (yes, I stole this goddess from Harn) the shrine of the local farmers and townsfolk, dedicated to Peoni, a goddess of growth, fertility, healing, and the simple life. Alas, the priesthood here is not capable of any great healing, other than ministering to wounds with mundane poultices; there is probably little of direct interest for adventurers here, other than the fact that local dissidents occasionally use the shrine as a kind of sanctuary place to meet in secret and discuss their hatred of Morholt ...

Thorgir's Smithy -- the local smithy and sometimes armory for the old fyrd; Thorgir and his apprentices, Aldir, Tess, and Freygir, are capable of seeing to the community's need for such mundanities as horseshoes and barrel-hoops, but also of forging simple arms like spearheads, arrowheads, shield-bosses, helms, etc. They once supplied the Brakeridge fyrd/militia; now they supply adventurers; and though they cannot make better swords and armors, they do buy them from passing merchants and resell them at their shop, meaning that adventurers can purchase anything from the B/X equipment lists in town.

Phantasmal Warriors

Those blue dudes up to the left are Phantom Warriors,
defending a Sorcery Node; later-game they'd be joined
by Phantom Beasts ...

In keeping with the idea of transposing Master of Magic monsters into D&D, I've always thought Phantom Warriors would be great, so here goes.

These guys are like mirror images that can also fight. They strike with phantom weapons that ignore armor, allowing them to hit often, and yet themselves being insubstantial, a single hit destroys one figure.

I figure there are two ways to look at these, one as monsters, the other as a spell:

Phantasmal Warriors (the monster)
No. Appearing 3-18
AC 9
hp "1" (any "hit" kills it)
THAC0 19
damage 1-6
movement 120'
special: all hits by phantasmal warriors ignore physical armor, striking both an unarmored man and a character in plate as if AC 9; BUT dexterity adjustments and magical bonuses to armor still count as AC against these attacks

Phantasmal Warriors (the spell)
level 4
range 1 (allied) creature
duration 6 turns
2-7 phantasmal representations of the target creature appear, randomly armed and armored. Each "phantom" is allowed one attack per round at THAC0 19 (but treating natural or worn armor as AC 9; dexterity adjustments and magical bonuses to armor still apply to this AC), doing 1-6 damage; furthermore, each "phantom" is struck as if AC 9, and any "hit", regardless of damage, dissipates the "phantom" thus struck

Greyhame Mountain Dungeon Expedition 10

Orcs have returned to the caverns of the Glimmervaults;
the Goblin King and the Lord of Werewolves have renewed their ancient alliance beneath the Howling Tower;
and the secret treasury of the ancient Bronding Kings is said to lie somewhere behind the Brokenbrand Falls, haunted by enchanting naiads ...

...

and Jaer the Windlord is said to look down on the world below from the Eyries of the Eagles on Greyhame Mountain itself ...


21 November's roster:
Baby Face (thief 3)
with Wheskers the Weasel, Wilmander the Weasel, Frita (normal woman), Hughbert the Peacock (normal man)
Blackleaf (Elf 1)
with Johann Haybaler (normal man) and Dol (normal man, former fyrdman)
Finbar (half-Elf druid 1)
with Dorcas Kurlsdotr (normal woman) and Rubadub-dub (mastiff)
Little Bob (traveling man 3)
with Rolf Rolfson (normal man) and two dogs (I forget their names)


So, a full party ...

Baby Face's player showed up first, so he, as a thief, went and did a job for the local guild. He went "carousing" (per the ACKS rules ... basically rumormongering for his boss), succeeded at his "hear noise" roll, and learned that the rumors that Morholt, local lord, was seeking a love potion to coerce the widow of the former lord Albrecht to marry himself (to legitimate Morholt's claim to power), were true. Baby Face's guild handler thanked him for the news, paid him 50 gold; and then Baby Face paid off the 1000 gold he owed the guild with money earned last session.

(Concerning the guild, Baby Face also learned both that the guild is headquartered in Bardastead, a town a couple days north of Brakeridge; and also that the guild is considering a heist of Oakridge Castle, Morholt's seat of power, at some time soon in the future ...)

A snake-killing weasel, a mastiff, and all six hirelings were snapped up by characters prior to the expedition ... also, Baby Face and Blackleaf each bought a "dose" of Elfin willow bark (said to be healing, entry 10 here), while Finbar bought a piece of a dragon heart (said to allow one to comprehend languages, entry 2 here).

The town-game finished, everyone finally agreed to head to the Howling Tower, where a former expedition had revealed treasure and an evil spirit on the third floor (the top floor). They then all bought some last-minute holy water, and then set out ...

During the first night (using my new "concrete" wilderness attrition rules), a freak storm wrecked/destroyed a week of rations, a dagger, and 12 arrows. Beyond that, the journey to the Howling Tower was unremarkable, other than continuing rain.

Outside the tower, the party observed a couple eagles circling above, and the remnants of a large pyre. Investigating the pyre, the party found larger-than-man-sized bones, plus a pair of canine-seeming skeletons, all burned together. They presumed this to be the pyre of Begor and his two wolves; Finbar collected a large blackened femur from within.

At the door into the tower, the party managed to hear human voices and panting canines; throwing open the door successfully, they surprised a pair of ragged-looking humans (one man, one woman), and five wolves. Blackleaf cast sleep over the wolves, Finbar cast animal friendship over one of the wolves (turns out it takes 6 turns to cast! so he was out of the combat); and the rest of the party attacked, assuming these two to be werewolves. They did a bunch of damage with missiles and melee, and killed the woman; the man, winning the next initiative, transformed with a howl into a wolf-man, but missed his attack with a sword he carried; and the next round, Baby Face slew him with a silver arrow to the heart.

The wolf-man's form, right before
he was slain by a silver arrow ...

Searching the bodies, the party found a goodly amount in jewelry in a cloak and brooch, and a dangling gold necklace on the two humans; and after 5 more turns (50 minutes!), no wandering monsters appeared, and Finbar's spell went off successfully, basically charming a wolf (there was one other survivor; it agreed after a speak with animals spell also from Finbar to accompany the party with its surviving companion ... Finbar named these wolves Walter and Heisenberg, because their names were otherwise unrememberable howls).

With these two wolves added to their number, the party headed south and west to where they knew the stairs led up to the second level of the tower. They passed the baboons crouching there easily, as Finbar with the last moments of his speak with animals spell asked permission, plus giving the blackened femur to a baboon who then proclaimed himself "king". (another runtish baboon came after Finbar, begging, and received only a ratty dress stripped from the dead werewolf woman above)

Upstairs, the party decided to explore the entire second floor before seeking the treasure of the spirit on the top floor; searching around, they ultimately entered into a room with a great throne against an eastern wall, on which crouched a huge ape with a hoplite helm, ill-fitting gloves, and a sword slung awkwardly over his broad shoulders (and there were two white apes nearby, picking nits). When this ape saw Blackleaf carrying a burning lantern, he went wild and mimed his desire for fire in his hearth. (I got to roleplay an ape here, and it was fantastic ... having more apes in my game is just the best)

Okok was shamelessly based on King Louis, I won't lie

The party lit a fire in the ape-king's hearth, and he got all enthusiastic, burning a torch in it, all enamored of his fire. He then gave the party his helmet and his gauntlets in gratitude. Slapping his breast, he declared himself, Okok!

The party then continued to explore, and found an empty room that when they searched actually held a silver wine service and a gilt sword; and then they filled the map of the second level and found an area that seemed secret, and ultimately found a secret door back in Okok's throne room. Within was a great horde of thousands of silver and copper pieces, plus a few valuable items. The characters managed to give Okok 2 chests of copper in exchange for his sword, which turned out to be a waterfall sword ...

The second level explored, the party then advanced to the top floor (third level) and sought out the chamber with the bricked-over hearth and the body behind it whence issued the terrible spirit. They found the chamber as they remembered, and again from the body issued a smoky spirit-figure, which filled the room with a supernatural chill. It advanced, and the party threw a volley of holy water at it, enough of which struck that the thing hissed and flinched. Ultimately, the spirit got one attack, which it missed, and then was destroyed by the constant volley of holy water which destroyed it; and then the party found a horde of several thousand gold, plus a number of gems and magical items on the knightly corpse that had been trapped behind the hearth.

And the eerie howling of the Howling Tower ceased, and all was suddenly, eerily silent.

Exploring the rest of the third level, the party also found a cistern, a library with several valuable and magical writings, and a shrine to Chaos and the Elf-goddess Astora, Queen of Stars; and came out with even more treasure.

Thus, the entire Howling Tower (above ground) explored, the party elected to return to town. They skirmished with some goblins during the first night (and lost a dagger, 12 arrows, a week of rations, a shield, and Baby Face took 2 damage); and then on the last night back, a baboon (animal encounter) walked off with a dagger (just one attrition die was rolled for ... this was clearly the same runtish baboon mentioned above, which vaguely wishes to overthrow the new "king").

Back in town, the party found that they had acquired three magic swords, a magic staff, two potions, and three magic scrolls, and a spell-book, all in addition to the monetary treasure they had emerged with. This was the best haul yet dragged out of the Greyhame Mountain Dungeon! (But I can assure that there is much more treasure throughout, still waiting to be claimed ...)

During carousing at the Black Dragon's Meed and around, Little Bob managed to cause a minor misunderstanding with the law for himself, and paid the guard off without going to the Oakridge dungeons ... but meanwhile, Blackleaf got seriously black-out drunk and did something so bad that she owed 6000 gold to the law, or she would be imprisoned in the castle-dungeon; and yet, at the last moment, a shady thief-type character appeared and offered to pay the majority of the fines, if Blackleaf would only be in debt to the guild ...

------

Remembrance for the Fallen
Orion II (lion dog), Bacon (boar hound), Tore (half-orc fighter 1/cleric 1), Jimmy the Snitch (dog), Orion (lion dog), Harambe (man-ape 1)

Eating a Dragon Heart

Sigurd/Siegfried sucks his thumb after burning it while
cooking Fafnir's heart--he is about to understand birdspeech ...

[after slaying the dragon Fafnir] ... Therewith Sigurd cut out the heart of the worm with the sword called Ridil; but Regin drank of Fafnir's blood, and spake, "Grant me a boon, and do a thing little for thee to do. Bear the heart to the fire, and roast it, and give me thereof to eat."

Then Sigurd went his ways and roasted it on a rod; and when the blood bubbled out he laid his finger thereon to essay it, if it were fully done; and then he set his finger in his mouth, and lo, when the heart-blood of the worm touched his tongue, straightway he knew the voice of all fowls, and heard withal how the wood-peckers chattered in the brake beside him--

"There sittest thou, Sigurd, roasting Fafnir's heart for another, that thou shouldest eat thine ownself, and then thou shouldest become the wisest of all men."

And another spake: "There lies Regin, minded to beguile the man who trusts in him."
But yet again said the third, "Let him smite the head from off him then, and be only lord of all that gold."

And once more the fourth spake and said, "Ah, the wiser were he if he followed after that good counsel, and rode thereafter to Fafnir's lair, and took to him that mighty treasure that lieth there, and then rode over Hindfell, whereas sleeps Brynhild; for there would he get great wisdom. Ah, wise he were, if he did after your redes, and bethought him of his own weal; 'for where wolf's ears are, wolf's teeth are near.'"

Then cried the fifth: "Yea, yea, not so wise is he as I deem him, if he spareth him whose brother he hath slain already."

At last spake the sixth: "Handy and good rede to slay him, and be lord of the treasure!"

Then said Sigurd, "The time is unborn wherein Regin shall be my bane; nay, rather one road shall both these brothers fare."

And therewith he drew his sword Gram and struck off Regin's head. ...

("Chapter XIX: Of the Slaying of Regin, Son of Hreidmar", The Volsung Saga, translated by William Morris and Eirikr Magnusson, 1888, retrieved online from Sacred Texts)

------

Drawing from this instance of Sigurd/Siegfried gaining magical knowledge from the heart of Fafnir (not a true dragon, you might say, being a dwarf transformed by curse into a worm, but bah! a dragon I call him) ... and also from the parallel story of Finn cooking the Salmon of Knowledge, burning his thumb on it, sucking his thumb, and thus gaining knowledge ... in my game, eating the heart of a dragon earns a character magical wisdom, strength, lore, or other strange powers.

Several dragons have been killed over the course of the years, and several hearts eaten, and several powers/advantages gained ... and once I even got a player (my wife!) rolling her eyes at bonuses to her character's attributes, a most coveted use of the wish spell in the ancient days--and she just rolled her eyes! D&D players--you just can't please 'em.

Anyway, for dragon hearts I use a d12 table, because I like the variety without it being overboard. A friend of mine who took to B/X D&D with alacrity and who has hosted a longstanding campaign when I wish to play, took my table and ran with it, adding all kinds of bells and whistles, with saves, percentile dice, etc.--and my characters have taken advantage, believe it well, when we have slain dragons in his game--but I retain the simple d12 table for my game. (Actually, several ... I keep losing them)

So here's the current incarnation:

Eating a Dragon Heart

1 - comprehend languages at will

2 - 1 first level spell, determined at random; can be used even by a character in armor, like an Elf

3 - 1 second level spell, determined at random; can be used even by a character in armor

4 - (1-2) +1 Strength, (3-4) +1 Dexterity, (5-6) +1 Constitution

5 - (1-2) +1 Intelligence, (3-4) +1 Wisdom, (5) +1 INT, +1 Charisma, (6) +1 WIS, +1 CHA

6 - dragon skin, -1 AC, -1 reactions

7 - dragon awe, +1 reactions, enemy Morale -1

8 - dragon power, +1 to hit, +1 to damage

9 - dragon eyes, +1 reactions, charm person 1/day

10 - +1 STR, DEX, CON, max 18

11 - +1 INT, WIS, CHA, max 18

12 - 1 first and 1 second level spell, determined randomly, may be cast by armored characters

Journey Into Emma's Mind -- A Play Report, Joshua Blackketter Refereeing

The background:
On some kind of FLAILSNAILS adventure to which I was not party, Emma Brighteyes--apprentice and companion of the estimable muscle wizard Barnabus Sleet--was cursed by the fish-horror-god Blibdoolpoolp with catatonic insanity, such that she was basically incapable of any action other than lying around in bed drooling, being fed etc. by caretakers. Returning from this harrowing adventure, Barnabus Sleet sought around for some means of curing Emma of her catatonia and madness, and ultimately hit upon the idea of Pete Loudly, a high level wizard, sending Sleet and other companions into Emma's subconscious to literally quest the madness out of her mind.

My character, Laurantha the Unbeautiful, a B/X Elf 5, was one of the volunteers to accompany Barnabus Sleet on this quest; the other volunteers were Percival Dolmetscher, Magic Meryl, Brutal Pete, Sapphean Gratchit, and Ilse Raagenkampf-Sleet.
And thanks to Joshua Blackketter for the game! I thought it was a solid adventure in a dreamscape/symbolic sub-conscience, and everything seemed to tie together very well.
So:


"Laurantha to Xanthos--a Missive

Xanthos, my companion in arms--not only along the Dreaming River have I traveled, but now also through the rivers of dreams; the dreams of one Emma Brighteyes, apprentice of Barnabus Sleet (the founding librarian of the Jarrod's Memorial Library in Vyzor, of which I am an honorary librarian). This unfortunate, Emma, was damned by some fish-god with catatonic madness, and Sleet sought volunteers to journey into her very dreams to cut the madness out of her. We volunteers assembled at the Alchemy Shoppe of one Pete Loudly, wizard extraordinaire in the whereabouts of Vyzor; and greeted there by his imp familiar-shopkeeper, were transported by means of a cloud of thickly magical cigar smoke (blown in our faces) to the swamp-tower wherein resides the most puissant sorcerer Pete Loudly.

The imp-familiar announced us; then Pete Loudly ushered us through his halls into a most peculiar chamber, filled at once with weird crystalline machinery and fungal growths, of which fungus included seven seats. Into these seats we were ushered (Sleet leaving behind two hirelings he had brought, one a demon, best left behind due to the fact that it is generally not well-regarded to bring foreign demons into the depths of others' sub-consciences).

Pete then explained, 'It will be dreamlike ... things will have meaning, but not substance. Monsters encountered in the sub-conscience are usually external influences (though if Emma has latent homicidal tendencies, they might be internal/integral); it is unclear as yet in my researches just what happens to a body if the psyche is slain within the sub-psyche stratosphere--probably not death, but not necessarily a simple waking as from a dream.' etc. etc. and then we were suddenly transported through the machinery into the very dreamstuff of Emma's subconscious mind.

All was dark; as Sapphean himself glowed and Percival lit a torch, our eyes found ourselves in what might have been a meadow, other than the eerie deep-sea quality of the light, with layers of darkness above and around us. To one side of us, we glimpsed vast figures, veritable titans, clashing in what seemed to us a slow-motion melee. One was a bronze colossus in the shape of Sleet himself, the other in the shape of what I guessed to be Blibdoolpoolp, a great crab-clawed, lobster-faced titan of seeming-stone. To the other side of us, opposite these titanic figures, an eerie bio-luminescence glowed in the distance.

Blibdoolpoolp, apparently

We all opted to head for the eerie glow, rather than attempt to tangle with titans, and ultimately found ourselves, in the manner of dreams, suddenly walking through the streets of the Vyzor pocket-dimension. And yet, not all was as it should be; the people themselves were all crab-clawed and lobster-faced, and spoke in the nonsense singsong of dreams; and Castle Vyzor itself had been replaced with a vast statue of obsidian carved to represent a fish vomiting forth a woman in an edifice as towering as the castle normally is; and the Jarrod Memorial Library was likewise transformed into a monstrous growth of coral.

Venturing first to the library, given the logic that it should have some symbolic meaning to Emma, we found the place strangely distorted, full of corals and growths of sea creatures where books, scrolls, and the skull of Jarrod should have been. Upstairs, we found Emma's room filled with strange sea-things; but looking into Sharene's room (Sharene being a fellow apprentice, Emma's friend), we discovered it as it should have been, except with an arm upon the bed (Barnabus to Sapphean: 'You could tell if it's human by taste, right?' Sapphean: 'I might.'). This was the first clue as to the full nature of our quest, but at the moment it seemed only prudent to collect the arm (it seemed to be Sharene's) and continue thence.

Back out on the streets of dream-Vyzor, we headed to the great statue at the center of town, and investigating it cursorily, discovered a great hole beneath the vast carven fish, set into the large pedestal upon which it sat. Within the hole seemed an endless abyss of darkness; yet when Barnabus sent a lighted torch into it with a spell, it attracted the attention of an alien denizen of the deeps, a fish-headed giant that leapt forth to attack us. Barnabus leapt right back, into the abyss to punch the rising horror, and only managed to fall into the darkness. Meanwhile, the rest of us engaged the thing in melee.

Like this, except it also had arms that pummeled us

Percival received a powerful hit that knocked him out for most of the combat; Ilse managed to thrust her sword into the fish-giant's head deep enough to climb up onto it; Brutal Pete managed alternately to pin the creature's mouth open or closed with his spear; Magic Meryl both tended to Percival and struck the creature with a thrown stone; and I bravely stood before the thing, stalwartly drawing its ire and blocking its fists with my shield, too much engaged in defense to mount an effective offense. Eventually, the thing was slain by Meryl's dagger, and it burst into an ichorous mess, and we found Barnabus Sleet at the foot of a mere ten foot deep pit beside a great golden coin, and also a leg, as if 'twere Sharene's.

This coin, he lifted, and as he did so it suddenly shrank to the size of a normal gold piece; and because of my excellence in the melee, blocking hits with my shield, I was chosen to be the guardian of the coin, while Barnabus took the leg. Thereafter, we as a party intended to head to the Drooling Thoul, a local watering hole for adventurers in Vyzor; but along the way we came across a shack outside of which roosted a dream-owl--and Emma is known for taking the shape of an owl herself.

Seeing this, we stopped to investigate. Percival, a translator, attempted to communicate with the owl, and indeed upon mention of Emma's name, it turned its head. Then, breaking through the door of the shack, Barnabus revealed to us all a strange vision of child-Emma eating supper with her parents, except that her parents were crab-people like all the other villagers.

After some rather strange attempts to entice dream-child-Emma outside, we ultimately found ourselves following the owl out from Vyzor and into a forest (this, because Magic Meryl finally deigned to ask the owl outside the shack directly as to the whereabouts of Emma's spirit).

In the forest, we observed mice attempting to sneak through the brush, and yet being taken up by dark and shadowy hands from creatures that lurked in the darkness beyond our torchlight. Barnabus attempted to strike down one of the shadowy things with his fist, but managed instead to splinter a tree; nevertheless, this revealed the creature in our light to be a goblin, and yet its form was no fleshly thing, but a corse vaguely formed of oozing black oil.

The Sheliak from Star Trek seem
about right, just imagine goblin dimensions

Alas, distracted by this thing, we lost sight of the owl flying on its way; my comrades determined that slaying these goblin things was the best means of saving the forest for Emma's mind, but I inquired of Sleet as to the nature of the forest, and he suggested that it might be the home of the witches' coven of which Emma is a member. Armed with this knowledge, we all agreed to venture deeper into the wood, both seeking the coven, and destroying ooze-goblins as we went. These creatures being simple to destroy, we slew a great many on our way, and the mouse-population boomed behind us, ultimately including even Rodents Of Unusual Size; but in the end, we arrived in a clearing wherein stood the three Ink Witches (Emma's coven), except changed such as to have the heads and wings of owls.

Percival approached them and asked in Owl if they knew where Emma was; they pointed to a tree, in which sat the spirit of Emma in the form of an owl. We all got the dream-sense that Emma's self had recessed from personhood into the safety of merely being an owl to save herself from ultimate madness. We then went to the tree under the Emma-owl, and when I offered it the gold coin, it took it and flew away swiftly; and this seeming to be the logic of the dream, we all followed post-haste, but not without taking up the head of Sharene, which stared forth at us from across the clearing.

Following the owl, we arrived at a long shoreline of obsidian sand and glittering water. For some reason, Percival and Meryl began to throw stones into the water, and one of Meryl's stones landed with a clang rather than a splash. Barnabus used the last of his fly spell (cast earlier when he was within the grip of the illusion of the abyss that ended up being merely a ten foot pit) to search the water, and found a tonbo--a great iron club--sticking out of the water. Grabbing hold of said club, Barnabus then wrestled the club out of the grasp of the scaly arm that held onto its lower part, and then the arm sank back down into the dark waters. Meanwhile, those of us on the shore, combing the sand, came upon the other arm of Sharene, sticking up out of the sand.

Uncertain where to go without an owl leading us, we returned to Vyzor to seek out the Drooling Thoul once and for all; there we saw a man, not a crab-man, but a real (though dreamily indistinct) human man, who paid his tab as we arrived and then immediately went back out into the dream world. We followed him, and ultimately found ourselves standing before a great bronze gate. Upon the surface of this gate were carved spirals of stories in images, an infinite number, all spiraling forth from the single central image of two people meeting romantically at a pub. Every infinite possibility of the combinations of their own stories twined out of that central image; and Brutal Pete hit upon an interesting solution to open said gate when he kissed the central image. All the story-paths spiraling out lit up, and Brutal Pete touched the one he said he liked best, of the woman (she seemed to be Emma) learning not to need a man in her life, and yet who also found happiness with someone she could see as her equal.

Personally, I imagined stories spiraling out like the
expectation vs. reality scene from 500 Days of Summer
--except all part of a giant bronze gate!

All of the sudden, a kind of keyhole opened up with the tonbo as the seeming key; inserting it, the gate indeed opened, and revealed behind it the second leg of Sharene, which Barnabus duly collected.

At this point, Sapphean was certain that we should return to the shack wherein dwelt child-Emma, thinking that we had not yet exhausted the dream-possibilities there. So duly we returned, and there, Barnabus suddenly spilled his knowledge that Emma had deep-seated guilt over having once accidentally injured Sharene worse when trying to heal her; and that though she had ultimately saved Sharene, she still blamed herself for 'tearing her friend apart'.

And indeed, when we presented child-Emma with the body parts we had found, she brightened suddenly. 'You found them!' she declared, and then went to her 'room' in the hovel and produced a doll's torso that seemed the right fit for all the parts. Ilse then sewed every limb back together, and suddenly there was Sharene before us, alive--as far as dream-alive goes. She then led child-Emma to the clearing with the owl-witches, wherein they enacted a great ritual, summoning all the owls of the forest until finally the Emma-owl appeared, descended into a triangle created by the outspread wings of the owl-witches--and then suddenly it was an owl no longer, but Emma herself stood there, and she took her tonbo from Sleet, and she and Sharene mounted it together and flew off toward the colossi battling on the horizon.

We all followed; and we saw that when Emma and Sharene arrived, they nearly collided with the bronze giant of Sleet--and then with a flash, the colossus was no longer Sleet, but Emma herself, huge as Blibdoolpoolp and wielding a tonbo as tall as a tower.

We below joined in the combat as best we could in support of this colossus of Emma. Sleet and I threw lightning bolts; Brutal Pete drank a potion of giant's strength and tried to overtopple Blibdoolpoolp by wresting at her feet; Ilse cast haste on the party; and Sapphean flew around the fish/crab horror, biting at her and stinging at her with the bizarre growths borne on his body from the trials he has withstood while adventuring.

And then titan-Emma swung her great club at the colossus of Blibdoolpoolp, and with a crash like a thunderbolt, she burst open the fish-horror's breast. Obsidian fragments and ichor rained from above as the vast giant teetered and then careered to the earth to shatter into a thousand dark shards.

And all at once, we were seated once again in Pete Loudly's tower, surrounded by crystalline machinery and fungal growths. ...

I have since heard that Emma Brighteyes has returned to the waking world, as fully aware as before the damnation of the god that cursed her into madness. Undoubtedly, deep scars remain--but such are the scars of healing after great injury overcome. I expect there will be much rejoicing in the house of Sleet for some time to come.

Well, Xanthos--such is the account of my descent into the dreams of another. I tell you, I have seen many wonders since wandering down the Dreaming River, and I do not doubt that I shall see many more. Someday perhaps you should join me--and let that bitch Almalonthas preen in all her supernatural beauty alone for a time, while our powers grow and overtop hers. But that is of course, your prerogative.

Your companion-in-arms under the Black Dragon,
Laurantha Akala"

How Underworld Doors Hate Adventurers

Referee: "Roll an open doors check."
Bobby the Magic-User: "I got a 6!"
Referee: "The door remains steadfastly closed. Now what?"

Back in 2012, when I was first really introduced to the idea of the OSR, of the megadungeon, of the "dungeon as mythic underworld," when I first looked critically into the D&D B/X books I'd acquired by strange fortune some years earlier ... I remember stumbling over the "check" required simply to open a door.

"NORMAL DOORS: Doors in a dungeon are usually closed, and are often stuck or locked. A lock must usually be picked by a thief. An unlocked door must be forced open to pass through it. To force open a door, roll 1d6; a result of 1 or 2 (on 1d6) means that the door is forced open. The roll should be adjusted by a character's Strength score adjustment. The number needed to open a door can never be less than 1 nor greater than 1-5." ("Part 4: The Adventure," Dungeons and Dragons Basic Rulebook, edited by Tom Moldvay, 1981 version, page B21)

Following the sense of the "dungeon as mythic underworld" (an essay I read back then ... Save Versus All Wands has excerpted parts that I remember, particularly about doors, here), I was willing to accept that doors were strangely unrelenting to characters attempting to explore the underworld. Perhaps there was a sense of the faerie otherworld magic about them, or whatever, but I could see the gaming applicability too--what if the players stumbled onto a nest of trolls and had to get out fast, and yet the door wouldn't yield to their "ministrations"?! That seemed like gaming gold, of terrified players facing a real horror ...

And yet, at the table, it never worked out that way.

First, despite the fact that I had envisioned a way to make checks like that work, that scenario never developed. The first entrants into my megadungeon then ("the Catacombs") either prudently spiked the doors, or got themselves quickly killed by the wereleopards lurking in the shadows.

Secondly, that very vision requires that door checks be allowed to be repeated; and when the assumption is that repeated attempts are allowable, it became dreadfully frustrating to force players to roll dice for a door, round after round, until they finally forced it open.

Ultimately, the combination of a desire to require "door checks" but a frustration with repeat checks created enough friction that I came up with a rationale--in my game, when players open a door, they roll a door check; but that check is not representing the physical opening of the door--that happens regardless--rather, success indicates that the character opens the door quietly enough to chance surprise on anything on the other side; and failure indicates that the characters made such noise opening the door that anything on the other side is aware of their presence. (This works out well with "hear noise" checks too, where savvy players who listen are less likely to be surprised ...)

So that's how open door checks work in my games:
1-2 opened quietly--may surprise enemies on the other side on a 1 or 2 on a d6
3-6 opened noisily--enemies on the other side are not surprised
(+/-) according to Strength
(And because of my descriptions of these I've had two characters named for these checks in my games--Sturge Doorbane, a brawny 18 STR Dwarf, and Morphumax Doorscraper, also a brawny 17? STR Dwarf ... curious that both were dwarves!)

------

And then I finally got to play in Jeff's Vaults of Vyzor some few months ago (Session #16), and Jeff Rients faithfully has characters make open door checks. But what was novel to me--and I'm guessing is actually the intent of the rules, and so not novel to D&D!--is that if characters can't open a door, they just can't for that session (at least, that's how it seemed to me while playing with him as referee).

Which makes so much sense--just like how with thief rules, if a thief fails to pick a certain lock, he cannot try again until he gains a level (forcing the party to come up with another means of opening the lock ...).

This channels player exploration in literally random ways (i.e. where they can go is determined by a random roll when presented with a door); it also preserves the rule and the horror ("We can't get out ... We can't get out ..." as the annals of Moria described), without forcing any tedium on the play of the game.

All of which is to say ... rules require interpretation. I ran my game in 2012 without anything but the words on the page (both the B/X rulebooks I had, as well as the words on the internet pages of various blogs)--but without any actual teacher to show me his or her way. I'm going to keep my way--it's too ingrained for me anymore--but I can appreciate and enjoy other ways of interpreting the rules.

Play Report From Jesse Goldshear's Vymrrys 2

"Laurantha to Xanthos--a Missive

Xanthos, my companion in arms, you know, of course, that I am seeking to expand my resources for the brewing of mead, and this includes in particular the acquisition of properties in various places in which to store the barrels of fermenting brew. I have thus already acquired such a space in the strange pocket dimension around the Vaults of Vyzor, having set up both barrels and bee hives in the new gnomish quarter there; otherwise, I have also been seeking some property in the desert city of Vymrrys, down the Dreaming River and in another world--it seems a prudent place in which to brew a dry mead, perhaps to be labeled the Desert Visionary Brew ...

To this end, I sought one called Corvus Isn, a local freelancer in Vymrrys known for doing the dirty work for nobles unwilling to sully their own hands with whatever deed needed doing. He was said to have come into possession of some property that has changed hands several times recently, all under mysterious circumstances, and I imagined that this creature might have some further property for sale, or perhaps at least advice in the acquisition of such.

In my rumormongering, I had heard that Corvus Isn's last known location was in some neighborhood of the delightful moniker of 'Drunkard's Bottom'; and also, from one Ayatollah Goblini (a most peculiar goblinage who takes advantage of his fellows' servile nature in the pontificating of some strange cult of shortness), another frequenter of the Myopic Myconid tavern, I heard that Corvus had been delayed from some sort of meeting in the Dreaming Bazaar.

Jesse Goldshear's drawing, I believe

Therefore, I well intended to set out for Drunkard's Bottom to seek this Corvus Isn, and even as I made my preparations, I did behold Magic Meryl in her new halfling shape, accompanied by her semi-apprentice, Pitwin Spryneedle, a gnome child orphaned by the Red Hand Orcs in the Vaults of Vyzor. These two I had previously accompanied on a quest to discover the nature of the bacchanals of the Otter-Folk in Vymrrys. I hailed the twain, and after I briefly sketched my adventuring intent, the magic pair agreed to accompany me to Drunkard's Bottom. Considering the potentially dangerous nature of a neighborhood of such an eponym, Magic Meryl and Pitwin disguised themselves in local robes, and Pitwin added a special touch for himself with a spray-on-beard.

We headed east, setting sun at our backs, and before long sought further information as to the whereabouts of the neighborhood, our goal, from a street performer. This woman, wrapped from head to toe in skin-tight blue robes, was a contortionist of exceeding skill, earning her coin by seeming to wrap her limbs and herself into knots for an applauding crowd. When the other passersby had passed, we approached her, I with two coin in my hand ready to buy information; but Pitwin rushed ahead, clapping uproariously and exclaiming how amazing were her feats of flexibility.

This performer then revealed to us her moniker--Sarah the Astonishing--and when we asked for directions to Drunkard's Bottom, she suddenly seemed worried, glancing especially at Pitwin. 'It can be a dangerous place,' she said. 'Are you sure you want to go there?'

'You don't have to worry about us!' Pitwin replied, puffing up his chest. 'We're tough!' This gnomish child, luscious beard bristling out from beneath bright eyes, was excruciatingly adorable in that moment. I was myself, of course, completely immune to his charms, but Sarah the Astonishing visibly melted before his shining eyes.

'Is this your child?' Sarah asked, and while I rolled my eyes in disdain for this display of cuteness, Meryl piped up, 'Yes, he is!'

I must admit, however, that Pitwin did win Sarah over such that she offered to guide us to Drunkard's Bottom, for which service we gladly retained her. As night crept ever onward, we arrived in the neighborhood, and I asked that Sarah direct us to a good watering hole for rumormongering; to which she answered with the name of the Bell and Beetle, a place with both drink and entertainment. 'Is it age appropriate?' Meryl asked, worried for her ward; to which Pitwin piped up, 'I've seen things! I've gotten drunk, too!' Therefore, to the Bell and Beetle we went.

Within, we found the kind of cantina that seems ubiquitous in any hive of scum and villainy, filled with drunks of cosmopolitan types. 'I'm an adult!' Pitwin declared to the one-eyed, tattooed bouncer as we entered, to which he shrugged and answered, 'Sure, kid.' At the bar I and Meryl inquired as to the whereabouts of Corvus Isn, and a drunk sloppily informed us that Corvus had been seen at a pawn shop not far away. The barkeep further explained how to get to this 'Three Lanterns Pawnshop' after our local informant passed out from inebriation.

All at once, we noticed that Pitwin had vanished in the crowd (an easy feat for a gnome child barely knee-high), and though, of course, I was immune to his sickeningly adorable charms, I was nigh ready to draw steel and accost the barkeep for his disappearance when suddenly he reappeared, smiling, new gold in hand. 'I won a bet on some fighting grubs!' he declared, and regaled us in childlike detail as to what he had seen in the back of the bar, of a kind of pit where people set stinging desert caterpillars against each other; he had betted on what seemed at first to be the loser, but which ultimately came out on top.

As Magic Meryl scolded Pitwin for his irresponsible use of money, we all made our way out onto the street; and for an additional fee of 15 gold, Sarah agreed to accompany us for the night as a kind of thief-acrobat.

Up the street and down a couple blocks, following the barkeep's directions, we came upon the pawnshop marked by three lanterns out front (only one being lit at the moment). At the door, we found it not locked, but stuck, and when I knocked, we heard movement within, but got no answer. Pitwin stepped up to the door and cast ESP, and reported to us after some dire concentration that there two individuals inside worried about what they were going to do with a dead body and what 'the Patriarch' was going to do to them when he learned it hadn't been handled right.

Unable to enter through that door, we went around to an alley to look for a back entrance, and there we were jumped by a figure in black leather armor and purple robes--an Elf of the House of the Purple Sun! I drew my sword, and while the others flailed ineffectually, I hacked the wretch's arm off--though Meryl got the killing blow.

A backdoor into the pawnshop was duly discovered; opening it, we found a pair of Elves standing over a charred body, arguing, and Pitwin cast a spell of charm person on the nearer. As the fellow turned to him with the smile of a friend, Pitwin declared, 'We're here to help with the body!' After some confused argument between the two (Billy and Ted, Billy being our Elf), they ultimately accepted the story that Otter-Folk had killed their watchman outside, and that we were indeed there to help dispose of the body. Pitwin sent Ted outside to watch while Billy helped stuff the charred body into a corpse. In the course of this, we managed to investigate the body, and found that it seemed indeed to be the body of Corvus Isn, with a cryptic note: 'Property bought; bad feeling about it; do as you wish; ~Corvus Isn.'

According to Billy the Elf, he and his companions had hired a necromancer, one Orchard Ringfinger (sp?) to dispose of the body; he had said he would summon spirits that would devour the corpse in fire to leave only ash, but obviously what remained was a corpse, badly burned, perhaps, but not devoured entire.

While we ourselves helped 'dispose' of the body, Billy the Elf insisted on robbing the place while the chance remained. He discovered some loose floorboards by the customer counter, but as he ripped them open and hauled out the safe, a blue smoke overcame him and his flesh began to melt off his bones. At his screams, his associate, Ted, returned--seeing his comrade so distressed, he insisted on attacking us, and we cut his throat in response.

Billy the Elf melting, except imagine it with a cloud of blue gas

Magic Meryl and Pitwin thence suggested taking the body of Corvus back to Vyzor to be reincarnated by Pete Loudly, if possible, or at least to get a speak with dead spell cast over the body, a thing I well agreed with, and we quickly took up the chest containing the charred body and returned to the Myopic Myconid posthaste.

As for the pawnshop, I have since heard that it was robbed that self-same night, the safe completely disappearing, along with the books, and several valuable trinkets removed from the shelves. Clearly, dastardly thieves took advantage of the night's chaos to enrich their own pockets! And I have heard that they left behind a spray-painted tag that 'Dougal Lives'--the nerve of some criminals.

Well, Xanthos, such is the extent of my attempt to acquire property within Vymrrys--an attempt ending with an even greater mystery, and no clear possibility of easy property. Such is the life of adventure.

My efforts will, of course continue. I hope before long to earning gold hand over fist with these brews--you must try them, my friend!

Your companion-in-arms under the Black Dragon,
Laurantha Akala"

Wilderness Encounters as Attrition 2

I received a comment on a recent post inquiring if I had fiddled with my rules for "wilderness attrition" at all, and whether I had anything further to write about them. The short answer heretofore was "no" because I have been using the rules as I wrote them for the last few sessions (and they've been pretty simple and effective so far, and people are starting to carry back-up items, which is one thing I envisioned for these rules ... thus necessitating a mule and porters ... mwahaha!)

The longer answer is, I do actually have an idea for making "wilderness attrition" a little better, I hope--"concreteness".

As written so far, and as used so far, I roll the encounter chance, elucidate the results and the number of damage dice for the party, and then come up with a lame reason for it afterward (especially when prompted by the player of Rendorsheeg the Elf). This is abstract; abstraction, of course, was the main purpose for creating these rules; yet nevertheless, D&D is so often about concreteness that it pains me to just kind of handwave why a week of rations, 12 arrows, a spear, and a shield were all lost. Generally I've been calling it skirmishes with goblins or orcs ... but what if I had said it was wolves, and a druid, say, replied by saying, "I want to cast speak with animals and talk them out of attacking us"?

Moreover, of the three dice I roll for every encounter/wandering monster check, on of them is not pulling much weight in these "attrition" rules, and I think "concreteness" could be a better use of its pips on the table.

Therefore:

When I roll for encounters, I roll 3d6, one black, one white, one red:
black -- encounter chance
white -- party surprise chance
red -- monster surprise chance

I ignore the red and white dice if black comes up nothing.

For attrition in the wilderness, rather than rolling up a full encounter on a positive result from the black die, I look to the other dice:
The white die determines "attrition dice" inversely to the number rolled on the die, e.g. 1 is 6d6, 2 is 5d6, 3 is 4d6, 4 is 3d6, etc.
Instead of an extra chance to "ignore" the encounter as I originally wrote, the red die can be used to determine "concretely" just what happened, thus:

1 - animal encounter -- a bear, a pack of wolves, a rutting moose, a baboon troupe, etc.

2 - men encounter -- a group of hunters, some brigands, some local ruffians

3 - humanoid encounter -- a skirmish with orcs, goblins, ogres, etc. per what I've generally said

4 - fey/unusual encounter -- undead perhaps, or faerie trees/briars that grasp at characters, etc.

5-6 - non-creature encounter -- a freak storm, a patch of poison ivy, a nest of young ticks, etc.

These are vague, and I think necessarily. As I said above, abstractness is the reason for these rules of attrition--what I get out of them is focusing on the dungeon while retaining some of the danger of the wilderness and travel through it. Attrition is a quick way to move through the consequences of the wilderness than having to describe an entire encounter with a band of orcs transporting prisoners, etc.

And yet, having a sense of what concretely the characters have encountered allows the players to respond to it with their skills, spells, etc in somewhat of the way that they would if presented with a full encounter. The best example I have is that if the referee rolls an "animal" encounter of six attrition dice, and the party includes a druid who responds by casting the spell speak with animals, the referee could allow the druid to just talk to the animals and avoid the encounter altogether, OR allow that spellcasting to replace one (or so) of the "usual" means of eliminating attrition dice (including the otherwise invulnerable sixth die, perhaps!).

Perhaps the party encounters "animals"--the referee declares them spiders
... and the halfling of the party uses his halfling abilities to sneak around
distracting the spiders with anti-arachnid slurs like, "Hey, atter-cop!"

Maybe an "unusual encounter" is undead, and the cleric can turn undead to eliminate an attrition die; or perhaps a group of men can be charmed or slept by a magic user to eliminate dice ... etc.

And of course, if the players just blithely accept the dice that you put forth, break their items, and move on, it's no skin off the referee's back. I just felt a strong need to have a way to clearly allow more player agency in response to the "attrition".

Greyhame Mountain Dungeon Expedition 9

Orcs have returned to the caverns of the Glimmervaults;
the Goblin King and the Lord of Werewolves have renewed their ancient alliance beneath the Howling Tower;
and the secret treasury of the ancient Bronding Kings is said to lie somewhere behind the Brokenbrand Falls, haunted by enchanting naiads ...

...

and Jaer the Windlord is said to look down on the world below from the Eyries of the Eagles on Greyhame Mountain itself ...

tonight's roster (actually played 14 November):

Aria (Elf 1, friend of Kaaraak the Eagle)

Lead (cleric 3, elected "captain" for the session)

Little Bob (traveling man 1)

with Marlowe (a cur) and Panzer (orc mastiff)

Blackleaf (Elf 1)

Aethulfwulf (paladin 1, formerly a fighter 1, but converted to Good this session)

Baby-Face (thief 3)

with Wheskers the Weasel (a snake-killing weasel)

Finbar (half-elf druid 1)

Unga Dunga (halfling 2)

Before the party was quite assembled, Baby-Face attempted to break Rendorsheeg (an Elf) out of jail, but he failed so badly that he managed to get himself imprisoned. The local thieves' guild bribed his way out (but not Rendorsheeg's), but that left Baby-Face 1000 gp in debt to the guild ...

When the party finally assembled, it was quite a number; they elected Lead the cleric as their "captain," and Lead announced that the party would journey to the Eyries of the Eagles, overruling all objections. The party appropriately bought rope and iron spikes/pitons for climbing, as well as extra rations, for the longer journey.

Then, following directions from Kaaraak the Eagle, Aria and Lead led the party north through the woods around to the west slope of Greyhame Mountain. I used actual wilderness checks for this, and ended up just rolling a couple non-monster encounters--first, Finbar was bitten by ticks after blundering through a nest of them (nice going, druid), ultimately to come down with some kind of disease; secondly, Little Bob was bitten by a viper, but managed to make his save against poison by sucking the venom out before it killed him.

The journey up Greyhame Mountain to the Eyries involves a hike up the mountain's slope, followed by an actual mountain-climb requiring rope, pitons, etc. The party sent Baby-Face ahead as the lead climber (given his thief ability to climb), and he set lead ropes  attached to pitons for everyone else, which allowed them to follow. Halfway up the mountain, on a ledge where the party could rest, Baby-Face pointed out a cave nearby to Lead; but Lead discouraged any exploration, and instead urged the party onward and upward. (Partway through this second leg of the climb, Kaaraak mentioned to Blackleaf that wyverns make their nests up here, having a truce with the eagles, but none with the two-legs down below)

Near the mountain's summit, the party finally reached "the Hame", a stretch of naked grey granite that resembles the hame laid across the shoulders of an ox's harness (I think? I hope I have this word right), which is laid around the mountain's shoulders. Here were a great number of eagle's nests, with eggs, chicks, and deer hauled up by the larger eagles for later meals. Kaaraak led the party through these nests to a cave under the summit, through which eldritch winds moaned.

There within, Jaer the Windlord appeared, a creature resembling a handsome man, fair-haired and blue-eyed, his cloak ever billowing in the winds, his tangled hair held down by a silver circlet. He demanded to know who came before him; Lead and his companions, who saved the eagle Kaaraak, was Lead's response.

A Master of Magic hero, and
o! the pixels are terrible here

Indeed, I have heard of the courage of those who have saved Kaaraak, my friend and servant, Jaer answered. And I have heard especially of the ministrations of Aria for my friend; therefore, I grant Aria the Elf a Guardian Wind, to protect her in times of need. This Guardian Wind is an elemental wind that once per day can be called on to create a protection from normal missiles effect, and once ever, can be used to create a fly effect, which ultimately discharges the elemental from further service.

Moreover, Jaer continued, I hope that I find in thee friends such who might destroy the evils of the orcs in the Glimmervaults below--those vile, deep creatures hate my friends, the eagles, and therefore I hate them. Bring me fifty orc heads, and I shall grant you all a Wish. I cannot destroy these creatures myself because things in the higher heavens are ever yet more important to an elemental of the upper airs as am I.

Aria also offered herself as an apprentice to Jaer, to learn wind magic from him; he agreed to teach her great magics of the air, but again, only for recompense of the destruction of the orcs below.

The party was thus incensed for the destruction of the orcs in the Glimmervaults; but they were uncertain whether they should climb back down the way they came (and maybe raid that wyvern-cave?), or whether they should hike down the back of the mountain. For indeed, on the far (eastern) slope of the mountain, they saw a path down to a defile that led ultimately to the back of the Brokenbrand Falls. Ultimately, Lead the Cleric decided that the party should hike down the back way, and from the Brokenbrand Falls into the Glimmervaults to attack the orcs there ...

So down the party marched (spending another day or so), and they got out their maps of the Brokenbrand Falls (two parties with partially separate maps, which they tried to overlap), and they asked where they emerged therein.

And instead, I described a new room, one with water flowing down from the northwest corner to the southeast corner, with an image of a rivergod behind the northwest corner's water, and an image of Brondr the old Bronding King with a broken sword in his lap on the north side of the stream. A corridor led south ... and none of this was on either map.

Heading south, the party entered a room with a long water-basin in the midst of which stood a statue of a naiad, with webs along the ceiling between the columns flanking the pool. As the party entered, they were surprised by three huge spiders, which dropped down and attacked Wheskers the Weasel, Lead, and Aethulwulf. Through a series of rounds, Lead took two hits, saving against poison both times, while Aethulwulf broke a series of shields to protect himself (one given by Blackleaf). But at last, the party slew the spiders, several dogs tearing the arachnids apart leg by leg, with Lead pulverizing the last spider with his warhammer.

The room also contained a large egg sac, and three cocooned victims; Aethulwulf tossed oil on the egg sac, and Little Bob lit it, and the webs burned away, destroying the young spiders in the sac; then the party cut apart the three cocoons and found three desiccated corpses, and a single Waterfall Sword, a kind of Viking sword with a waterfall mark on the ricasso.

The party then dithered for a long time, but ultimately headed east, whence gleamed open sunlight (considering the chamber opened to north, east, south, and west). Following the sunlight, the party found a wide space with a fairly large lake of clear, cold, mountain streamwater. In that sunlight, the party saw (beside an idol of Astora, Elf goddess of the stars and the night), a huge turtle with 12 gems in its shell holding court over a number of naiads, nakedly lounging on the banks thereby.

Except alive, of course, and perhaps a little
pretentious about its "deep" knowledge

Baby-Face was the first to approach this strange gathering, as he had before had good relations with naiads; these naiads did not recognize him, but they did fancy him, and started to wink at him and blow kisses to him. Meanwhile, the turtle turned and demanded, Who are you to interrupt my lecture of philosophy to these fine young ladies?

Now Aria and Blackleaf approached, Aria to engage the turtle in his philosophizing, Blackleaf to appraise the gems of his shell. The gems seemed to be worth about 1000 gp, and Blackleaf began to mumble about the riches represented (and murderous fantasies to take them all), while Aria became entangled in a nonsensical philosophical debate with the turtle (while also reprimanding Blackleaf for her obsessions with gold, rather than with natural wonders). Given the richness of the stones, Little Bob stepped up with the intent to remove the stones; but the turtle backed into the water, warily, and griped at the party. Why are you cornering me, interrupting my edification of these fine young ladies?

Little Bob and Blackleaf inquired about the gems--O, these were gifts to me from the Bronding kings, the turtle answered, a little garish, perhaps, but scintillating nonetheless--and the turtle further offered a single gem for an answer to a question. He asked for a solution to the epistemological problem of Edmund Gettier, of how to salvage the account of knowledge as "justified true belief" given "Turtle Gettier's" counter-arguments; the response from the players was weak in my estimation, but I rolled a 12 for "reactions" so I gave it to them--they offered something the turtle had not considered, that others might be relevant in any consideration of knowledge, ultimately not inappropriate for a turtle philosopher thinking to himself for some centuries alone ... and the turtle plucked off a gem and offered it to them.

(Meanwhile, Baby-Face continued his flirtations with the naiads. They told him they didn't care about the "lecture", they'd just come to make fun of and tease the turtle, and that they'd rather have Baby-Face come with them into the river. Baby-Face asked where the party was in relation to where he'd been, and found that following the stream southeast would lead back into the areas of the Brokenbrand Falls where he, Lead, and Unga Dunga had been before. But after relating this information to the party, Baby-Face agreed to just go with the naiads, and he disappeared with them under the waters, sharing a smooch for the sake of waterbreathing.)

Baby-Face joining the naiads while the
turtle-philosopher natters on beind

The party then followed Baby-Face's brief directions (while Blackleaf and Aria disputed over the turtle, Blackleaf wanting to take his gems, Aria, being of Natural alignment, wishing to protect the turtle). They ultimately found themselves in the Brokenbrand Falls where a map made sense, and agreed to seek some theoretical treasure nearby before heading back to town. The naiads had once directed Baby-Face and his companions to a nearby tomb for hidden treasures ... the party followed such directions into the tomb of Bragr.

In the tomb, they found a sarcophagus backed by a bas-relief of the World Tree with a serpent gnawing its roots to one side; approaching the tomb, Lead found nothing inside, but Blackleaf (as an Elf) pointed out that the serpent hid a secret door.

There within, behind the secret door, the party looked upon a tomb filled with grave goods--and also containing a colony of aggressive fungus! The party attacked the fungus with missile weapons, fire, and dogs, and because of the colony's slowness, the party tore it apart. Then the party looted the place and found much silver, electrum, and gold coinage; a tortoise-shell lyre and a bone-harp; 6 potions; and a wand; which seemed altogether to be worth a couple thousand gold pieces.

This treasure in hand, the party decided to head back to town; with their map, they made it quickly through the chambers of the Brokenbrand Falls, back to the slippery stairs that lead up to the halls, and all made their checks to avoid falling from the stairs. And at the base of the stair, they found Baby-Face waiting for them, dabbling his feet in the stream, satisfied smile wide on his face (he made his save to escape the naiads' charms ...).

Continuing back to town, the party dealt with a couple encounters of attrition in which they burned several weapons, ammunition, and shields--clearly ineffectual skirmishes against orcs in the night.

Lastly, arriving back in town, the party went on to carouse with their newfound wealth. At some point in the night of drinking, Little Bob wandered off into the village green and is said to have cursed and blasphemed the gods as vengeful assholes (and yet nevertheless he leveled up as a traveling-man through carousing!). As for Blackleaf, she is said to have strung local blacksmith Aldir along, hoping to marry him "for a soul" ... Baby-Face, meanwhile, bought rounds for everyone at the Black Dragon's Meed, and is now well known as the best drunkard in Brakeridge to have as one's drinking-buddy.

Finally, Aethulfwulf, spent a sum of money on a new small shrine to Adonai, Lawful Good god of justice, Pourer of the Horn; and then he also went carousing, but managed to end his night in his own bed, secure in his sense of having not made an ass of himself.

------

Remembrance for the Fallen
Orion II (lion dog), Bacon (boar hound), Tore (half-orc fighter 1/cleric 1), Jimmy the Snitch (dog), Orion (lion dog), Harambe (man-ape 1)