- A number of peculiar and vague scribblings have been found on the back of the Zaharan Fort map. After being deciphered from elvish, they seem to suggest that there is (or was) an oracle of some sort at the fort. Likewise, one part of the message appears to be garbled, beyond merely its language...
- The ankhegs which have been terrorizing the populace of Opportunity have been expanding their territory, since their primary competitors, a nest of giant scorpions, were eliminated last month by the Company. Fortunately, they do not appear to have increased in number, but the length of their spawning cycle is anyone's guess...
- The Orphans, who are closely allied with Garwyn's Perfectly Legitimate Government, report curious black-clad figures snooping around the Guild district, but they're not recognized as guildies... They seem to be fairly skilled, and the Orphans have been unable to determine just how many of them there are, though estimates tend to fall in the five to seven range.
- A bedraggled wizard arrives from the South and seeks an audience with Garwyn's court. His demeanor suggests that he bears ill tidings.
- Garwyn's spy in Deal reports that Crowfeed fled from justice, but the direction of his flight is uncertain. Freeport seems the most likely destination, but Crowfeed is a wily opponent, as the PCs have learned the hard way once before...
- Carcophan's tower of black basalt is erected deep in the swamps of the crocodile-men he now rules. He takes his first apprentice, Garwyn's henchman Scrud, junior alchemist and survivor of opening the flask containing the Potion of Cloudkill.
Showing posts with label Dardantine Razors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dardantine Razors. Show all posts
Friday, October 12, 2012
News in Opportunity
We're picking ACKS back up after a... three week? hiatus this Sunday, and things in the world have not been idle. Some of the headlines coming to the attention of my players recently include:
Monday, September 24, 2012
Logistics and Lairs
Well, it's been a while, but I've been busy with job-hunt, travel (as a result of job-hunt), and school. One thing I will say for travel is that despite the general unpleasantness involved in flying, it does give one quite a lot of time to read and reflect. And so it came to pass that last Thursday during a flight from Phoenix to Seattle, I finished Keegan's A History of Warfare. Quite a lot of good gaming inspiration in there - now I want to run a Polynesian ACKS game, an Aztec ACKS game, a Viking ACKS game, and probably a few more that I forgot. I hear Drew wants to run Roman ACKS (fasces?) game as well.
A few other surprising points stuck out at me, though. The first is that different cultures have some really different outlooks on war. The kind of combat we see PCs engaging in in D&D is very strongly western european in style, just in terms of directness and willingness to press the enemy into decisive melee. Many other cultures, including the steppe nomads, Arabian cavalry, the Greek peltasts, and primitive tribesmen the world over much prefer to engage at range and flee or fall back if threatened with melee (often to encircle the enemy from the flanks). And yet, we very rarely see such hit-and-run tactics on display among either PCs or their opponents. This is disappointing, but easily enough remedied by changing "fighting retreat" on my morale table to "retreats with intent to reengage later". As for PCs... well, they will do what they will do, and as long as they have some armored melee fighters, they're likely going to press for melee most of the time.
Also interesting was that many cultures do not run down retreating enemies. Surprising, I know - never would've guessed from the way my PCs go about it...
Finally, the chapter on logistics was extremely interesting from a gaming perspective. There were a number of excellent facts:
So yeah. Before the PCs decide to take their army and march on an opposing town (say, Deal), they should consider stockpiling iron rations for a month or three...
So that was the logistics part. What's this about lairs?
A week and a bit ago, a session of ACKS was played, with many new players! Jarol the Thothite assumed command of a band of new adventurers and sought out bounties upon the giant scorpions troubling the peasants of Opportunity. Among his company were: the wizard Leo, and his cleric Hildegarde, Goradohi the Crocodile-Man and his war-crocodile Ota, the Dardantine merchant Guilleme Capouchen and his own priestess Perrin the Pious, Bhoskar, a dwarven warrior in the service of Jarol, and one war dog. They succeeded in tracking and slaying five such scorpions in pitched battle with no losses, save the war animals, both of which were slain by poison.
Upon their triumphant return to Opportunity bearing the stingers of their quarry, they were met by Corinth and her warriors while collecting their bounty from the Baron Garwyn, and also came into the company of Max Parsley, hick-turned-swordsman, and his scribe Henx. Without the aid of Carcophan's Zaharan lore, they were unable to decipher the map to the Vaults, so Corinth proposed an expedition to the destination of the Myrmidian map recovered during the dragonslaying, which pointed to a fort in the desert. En route, they made friendly contact with a group of giant cactus treants, who warned them of orcs and goblins in the vicinity.
Upon their arrival, the perimeter was scouted and no means of ingress was found, and so they went over the walls via grappling hook and opened the gates from within. While exploring the cellar of a tavern within the fort, they found a passage within the cellar which led them into a goblin den. The goblins, maddened by Max's accidental blasphemy of their death-god Hao-Dee, rolled a pair of 12s for morale and all charged to painful burning deaths in a patch of flaming oil. All 30 or so of them. Goradohi complemented the company on their cooking while the rest of them searched for treasure, finding several pieces of silverware and a captive, a captured bandit named Demmin who knew little of the area, being from further west. After emerging from the warren, they sent Demmin to outside the gate with the mercenaries, and searched a smithy, where they found five goblins cowering in terror. When commanded to leave, they protested that the orcs would get them. Goradohi ate one, and the rest fled as orcs attacked the party from the rear, badly wounding Leo, Hildegarde, and Corinth's nightblade Macha. The orcs were slain, and the party found nothing of value in the smithy, so with their wounded in tow a retreat back to Opportunity was ordered.
No PCs or henchmen were killed in the making of this session report :( Even more sadly, it looks like with my interview travel schedule, there will be no more ACKS before the 14th of October at the earliest.
A few other surprising points stuck out at me, though. The first is that different cultures have some really different outlooks on war. The kind of combat we see PCs engaging in in D&D is very strongly western european in style, just in terms of directness and willingness to press the enemy into decisive melee. Many other cultures, including the steppe nomads, Arabian cavalry, the Greek peltasts, and primitive tribesmen the world over much prefer to engage at range and flee or fall back if threatened with melee (often to encircle the enemy from the flanks). And yet, we very rarely see such hit-and-run tactics on display among either PCs or their opponents. This is disappointing, but easily enough remedied by changing "fighting retreat" on my morale table to "retreats with intent to reengage later". As for PCs... well, they will do what they will do, and as long as they have some armored melee fighters, they're likely going to press for melee most of the time.
Also interesting was that many cultures do not run down retreating enemies. Surprising, I know - never would've guessed from the way my PCs go about it...
Finally, the chapter on logistics was extremely interesting from a gaming perspective. There were a number of excellent facts:
- On human limits - "A marching soldier cannot carry supplies for more than ten or eleven days" and "the soldier's load cannot on average be made to exceed 70 pounds of weight", or about seven stone. Seven stone, curiously enough, is the cutoff between 90' and 60' speed in ACKS.
- Twenty miles a day is listed as the best speed achievable by men on foot "with any degree of regularity", and the Roman legions on their internal lines are cited as moving about this speed. ACKS permits up to 32 miles a day to unencumbered humans on good roads, or 48 with a forced march on good roads. That seems... a bit high. Good thing there are no such roads in my setting... Unless some of those dastardly PCs were to build one... Man, I hate those guys, always causing trouble, breaking the laws of physics, deciding to go to unmapped dungeons... ahem. Sorry, where was I?
- Right, speaking of roads: "The lengths of roads per thousands of population were in 1860: 5 miles in Britain, 3 in France, 2 and a third in Prussia, and only 3/4 in Spain." Now I feel even better about not putting much in the way of roads in there... This means that a town of about 4500 souls, like Opportunity, has maybe 10-12 miles of good road in its vicinity, tops. And wheeled transport doesn't work very well without them... I guess the merchant caravans are actually mule-and-camel trains.
- On pack animals: A bullock (apparently a juvenile ox?) eats its own load in about 8 days. We have been ignoring rations for pack animals... That may be for the better.
So yeah. Before the PCs decide to take their army and march on an opposing town (say, Deal), they should consider stockpiling iron rations for a month or three...
So that was the logistics part. What's this about lairs?
A week and a bit ago, a session of ACKS was played, with many new players! Jarol the Thothite assumed command of a band of new adventurers and sought out bounties upon the giant scorpions troubling the peasants of Opportunity. Among his company were: the wizard Leo, and his cleric Hildegarde, Goradohi the Crocodile-Man and his war-crocodile Ota, the Dardantine merchant Guilleme Capouchen and his own priestess Perrin the Pious, Bhoskar, a dwarven warrior in the service of Jarol, and one war dog. They succeeded in tracking and slaying five such scorpions in pitched battle with no losses, save the war animals, both of which were slain by poison.
Upon their triumphant return to Opportunity bearing the stingers of their quarry, they were met by Corinth and her warriors while collecting their bounty from the Baron Garwyn, and also came into the company of Max Parsley, hick-turned-swordsman, and his scribe Henx. Without the aid of Carcophan's Zaharan lore, they were unable to decipher the map to the Vaults, so Corinth proposed an expedition to the destination of the Myrmidian map recovered during the dragonslaying, which pointed to a fort in the desert. En route, they made friendly contact with a group of giant cactus treants, who warned them of orcs and goblins in the vicinity.
Upon their arrival, the perimeter was scouted and no means of ingress was found, and so they went over the walls via grappling hook and opened the gates from within. While exploring the cellar of a tavern within the fort, they found a passage within the cellar which led them into a goblin den. The goblins, maddened by Max's accidental blasphemy of their death-god Hao-Dee, rolled a pair of 12s for morale and all charged to painful burning deaths in a patch of flaming oil. All 30 or so of them. Goradohi complemented the company on their cooking while the rest of them searched for treasure, finding several pieces of silverware and a captive, a captured bandit named Demmin who knew little of the area, being from further west. After emerging from the warren, they sent Demmin to outside the gate with the mercenaries, and searched a smithy, where they found five goblins cowering in terror. When commanded to leave, they protested that the orcs would get them. Goradohi ate one, and the rest fled as orcs attacked the party from the rear, badly wounding Leo, Hildegarde, and Corinth's nightblade Macha. The orcs were slain, and the party found nothing of value in the smithy, so with their wounded in tow a retreat back to Opportunity was ordered.
No PCs or henchmen were killed in the making of this session report :( Even more sadly, it looks like with my interview travel schedule, there will be no more ACKS before the 14th of October at the earliest.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Report from the Front
Well, I was going to write a post full of adventure hooks, but it's been a violently intense week (including as highlights BattleTech simulators at The Airlock, shooting rifles (aim: improving), two games of ACKS, two dates, and a full day today of solving puzzles), so I'm pretty much braindead right now. Instead, I will regale you, gentle reader, with a short tale of greed, slaughter, and woe from Wednesday's game, covering the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Expeditions to the Bleak Academy.
In the Fourth Week of the Fourth Month since the founding of the Dardantine Razors (though none of the founding members still travel with those who carry that name), there gathered in the Sleeping Guardsman Tavern in the Guild Quarter of the Town of Opportunity three companions and their assistants - Carcophan the Half-Dead with his Harmakhan priest Morik, Urist Handlepainted the dwarven berserker and his blade-dancer Karina, and Garwyn the Bard, with his entourage of Tualla the assassin, Derra the blade-dancer, Varamyr the wilderlander, and a newly-hired swordsman by the name of Sorlof. As the last expedition to the Academy had been immensely successful, Corinth and Fjalkov were drinking their treasure away, while Urist and Garwyn looked on in envy (for they had not been present for that lucrative trip). So seeing, they resolved to find treasures richer still.
The three proceeded to the Academy without incident, and explored part of the first level of the structure where Carcophan had seen reavers with piled treasure during his narrow escape from death some months before during the first expedition. There they found the reavers' position abandoned and now occupied by man-sized spiders, which they slew. The reavers had left their treasure, and so there was much rejoicing. After a terrifying encounter with the animate guardian statues of the Chapel of Thoth, from which the band narrowly escaped, the expedition was pronounced a success and a hasty retreat was beaten back to Opportunity, again without incident.
While inventorying the treasure, several pieces were discovered to be enchanted, and so research was done and sages were consulted. One item of interest, a thin metal wand, remained unidentified by other sources, and so Carcophan sought to research its properties and means of activation himself. However, lacking a personal library, it was decided that he should be escorted to the Academy's library, where he might study safely under the protection of the Ghostly Librarian. Thus, the Fifth Expedition was organized with the same members as the Fourth, but that Garwyn left Tualla to attend to his affairs in Opportunity (including the acquisition of a sizable house in the guild district to serve as a base of operations and a permanent repository for treasure). The secondary purpose of this expedition was to complete the exploration and mapping of the second level of the Academy, and to find any further treasure hidden there.
The notable outcomes of this were the meeting of the group of paladin-wights of the Order of Leitbur who had killed Carcophan previously, the discovery of the fate of the reavers (slain to a man by the wights), and the painful death of Urist Handlepainted beneath the combined mass of the risen corpses of said reavers when he attempted to loot their bodies. His hireling Karina was also gravely wounded by those zombies, losing an ear before Urist lit himself and the zombies afire, sealing his fate. Though Karina survived, after this setback it was decided that further exploration was unwise, and Carcophan was escorted safely to the library, there to ensconce himself for two weeks of arcane study. Little treasure was gained, with the greatest portion of the profit coming from the reapportioning of Urist's possessions after his death, and all involved were saddened, not least Urist. The only newly gained treasure of note was the magic sword of one of the paladin-wights slain by the reavers, which was given for the time being to Sorlof for meritorious service.
During the intervening two weeks, Garwyn and his entourage returned to Opportunity, there to rest, heal, and recruit. Garwyn learnt of a series of mysterious deaths due to unknown cause, and investigated the matter, but was unable to reach any useful conclusions. He was, however, able to find and induct The Albanian, a hunter who claims to be from another dimension (general consensus is that he is simply a lunatic, but he's a good shot so this is deemed irrelevant). With this new companion in tow, Garwyn set out for the Sixth Expedition to the Bleak Academy to retrieve Carcophan from the library and hopefully finish mapping the second level.
While Carcophan was found safe and sound of mind and body, and successful in his researches (having identified the rod as a Wand of Enemy Detection), the exploration of the second level went poorly. The company happened upon the wine cellars of the Academy, where they found many emaciated corpses. These were mistaken for likely undead, and a probing attack was mounted which resulted in none rising. Feeling sheepish and spying the glitter of gold from the edge of the torchlight, the party ventured further into the cellar before Carcophan had the good sense to check the ceiling... and found there seven ghouls poised to leap into the party's midst. In the ensuring tumult, Garwyn used his ring of spell storing to teleport to the safety of the Academy's gatehouse, where Verimyr and the mercenaries were waiting, while Carcophan and the Albanian were able to make it to the cellar's door and magically web the way shut. Unfortunately, this left Sorlof, Derra, and Morik alone with seven ghouls, who shortly were heard tearing them apart and feasting upon their corpses. Carcophan and the Albanian then experienced some difficulty in their escape, for Garwyn had the map, but by luck and skill reached the surface without meeting any further enemies. The party left the Academy dejected at the losses of all of their strongest henchmen with no treasure to show for it, and resolved never to return to that accursed place again, though in the estimation of this humble historian it seems likely that Carcophan at the least will have cause to visit for the arcane resources stored there at least once more. Another cause of regret and possible return to the Academy is that the enchanted dwarven warhammer, Shilshigos, was in the possession of Sorlof at the time of his death, and remains unretrieved with his body.
This concludes the chronicle of the later expeditions of the Razors to the Bleak Academy, in the Fourth Week of the Fifth Month since their founding, with mid-autumn harvest festivals and the equinox nearing.
In the Fourth Week of the Fourth Month since the founding of the Dardantine Razors (though none of the founding members still travel with those who carry that name), there gathered in the Sleeping Guardsman Tavern in the Guild Quarter of the Town of Opportunity three companions and their assistants - Carcophan the Half-Dead with his Harmakhan priest Morik, Urist Handlepainted the dwarven berserker and his blade-dancer Karina, and Garwyn the Bard, with his entourage of Tualla the assassin, Derra the blade-dancer, Varamyr the wilderlander, and a newly-hired swordsman by the name of Sorlof. As the last expedition to the Academy had been immensely successful, Corinth and Fjalkov were drinking their treasure away, while Urist and Garwyn looked on in envy (for they had not been present for that lucrative trip). So seeing, they resolved to find treasures richer still.
The three proceeded to the Academy without incident, and explored part of the first level of the structure where Carcophan had seen reavers with piled treasure during his narrow escape from death some months before during the first expedition. There they found the reavers' position abandoned and now occupied by man-sized spiders, which they slew. The reavers had left their treasure, and so there was much rejoicing. After a terrifying encounter with the animate guardian statues of the Chapel of Thoth, from which the band narrowly escaped, the expedition was pronounced a success and a hasty retreat was beaten back to Opportunity, again without incident.
While inventorying the treasure, several pieces were discovered to be enchanted, and so research was done and sages were consulted. One item of interest, a thin metal wand, remained unidentified by other sources, and so Carcophan sought to research its properties and means of activation himself. However, lacking a personal library, it was decided that he should be escorted to the Academy's library, where he might study safely under the protection of the Ghostly Librarian. Thus, the Fifth Expedition was organized with the same members as the Fourth, but that Garwyn left Tualla to attend to his affairs in Opportunity (including the acquisition of a sizable house in the guild district to serve as a base of operations and a permanent repository for treasure). The secondary purpose of this expedition was to complete the exploration and mapping of the second level of the Academy, and to find any further treasure hidden there.
The notable outcomes of this were the meeting of the group of paladin-wights of the Order of Leitbur who had killed Carcophan previously, the discovery of the fate of the reavers (slain to a man by the wights), and the painful death of Urist Handlepainted beneath the combined mass of the risen corpses of said reavers when he attempted to loot their bodies. His hireling Karina was also gravely wounded by those zombies, losing an ear before Urist lit himself and the zombies afire, sealing his fate. Though Karina survived, after this setback it was decided that further exploration was unwise, and Carcophan was escorted safely to the library, there to ensconce himself for two weeks of arcane study. Little treasure was gained, with the greatest portion of the profit coming from the reapportioning of Urist's possessions after his death, and all involved were saddened, not least Urist. The only newly gained treasure of note was the magic sword of one of the paladin-wights slain by the reavers, which was given for the time being to Sorlof for meritorious service.
During the intervening two weeks, Garwyn and his entourage returned to Opportunity, there to rest, heal, and recruit. Garwyn learnt of a series of mysterious deaths due to unknown cause, and investigated the matter, but was unable to reach any useful conclusions. He was, however, able to find and induct The Albanian, a hunter who claims to be from another dimension (general consensus is that he is simply a lunatic, but he's a good shot so this is deemed irrelevant). With this new companion in tow, Garwyn set out for the Sixth Expedition to the Bleak Academy to retrieve Carcophan from the library and hopefully finish mapping the second level.
While Carcophan was found safe and sound of mind and body, and successful in his researches (having identified the rod as a Wand of Enemy Detection), the exploration of the second level went poorly. The company happened upon the wine cellars of the Academy, where they found many emaciated corpses. These were mistaken for likely undead, and a probing attack was mounted which resulted in none rising. Feeling sheepish and spying the glitter of gold from the edge of the torchlight, the party ventured further into the cellar before Carcophan had the good sense to check the ceiling... and found there seven ghouls poised to leap into the party's midst. In the ensuring tumult, Garwyn used his ring of spell storing to teleport to the safety of the Academy's gatehouse, where Verimyr and the mercenaries were waiting, while Carcophan and the Albanian were able to make it to the cellar's door and magically web the way shut. Unfortunately, this left Sorlof, Derra, and Morik alone with seven ghouls, who shortly were heard tearing them apart and feasting upon their corpses. Carcophan and the Albanian then experienced some difficulty in their escape, for Garwyn had the map, but by luck and skill reached the surface without meeting any further enemies. The party left the Academy dejected at the losses of all of their strongest henchmen with no treasure to show for it, and resolved never to return to that accursed place again, though in the estimation of this humble historian it seems likely that Carcophan at the least will have cause to visit for the arcane resources stored there at least once more. Another cause of regret and possible return to the Academy is that the enchanted dwarven warhammer, Shilshigos, was in the possession of Sorlof at the time of his death, and remains unretrieved with his body.
This concludes the chronicle of the later expeditions of the Razors to the Bleak Academy, in the Fourth Week of the Fifth Month since their founding, with mid-autumn harvest festivals and the equinox nearing.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Travel Is Dangerous
(Thanks to Mogwai by way of Elizabeth for the title)
Ran a session of ACKS last night, wherein the party decided to move their base of operations from Deal to Opportunity in order to explore the ruined Bleak Academy of Necromancy. We discovered that, per the title, overland travel in ACKS is dangerous for lowish-level parties, though they did have the good sense to bring along a fair cohort of a dozen or so mercenaries. On the first day it was unfriendly baboons, who Tim distracted with a large volume of rations. The second day was uneventful, but on the third they were attacked by griffons. They were all for standing and fighting, until they realized that it wasn't one or two griffons, but fourteen, fully half the size of their company, and each as strong as at least four fighters. They sacrificed their horses to the beasts and ran for their lives. More troubling was the loss of the mules, who were carrying the water supply; several PCs were reduced to drinking marsh water, which may have consequences later.
It was also on the third day that, in the aftermath of the griffon debacle, the party's rangers led them astray into marshy terrain. There they were beset by giant biting flies, which slew three of their mercenaries and tore one of their henchmen's arms off before being driven away. They managed to find the trail again, and were relieved to see smoke from the hearths of Opportunity... until it turned out to be from the campfires of an orcish horde laying siege to the town in search of vengeance for the slaughter of one of their villages by the town's resident master assassin. I was pleasantly surprised that they dealt with this situation diplomatically, and in the end broke the siege, brought both the assassin and the orcish chief to ruin, and gained the favor of the (new) most prominent guild in the town of thieves known as Opportunity.
But I don't think they're going to chance the wilderness again anytime soon... the griffons are still out there. Waiting. And hungry for horse-flesh, or lacking that, man-flesh. More generally, "Large groups of very dangerous monsters are out there, and we don't have the power to deal with them yet." This pleases me, for it is well in keeping with the tradition of the Wilderlands of High Fantasy - there's a reason everything is city-states rather than nations, and that reason is that the wilderness between them is full of monsters, not peasants.
Also on the agenda for the next week or so:
Ran a session of ACKS last night, wherein the party decided to move their base of operations from Deal to Opportunity in order to explore the ruined Bleak Academy of Necromancy. We discovered that, per the title, overland travel in ACKS is dangerous for lowish-level parties, though they did have the good sense to bring along a fair cohort of a dozen or so mercenaries. On the first day it was unfriendly baboons, who Tim distracted with a large volume of rations. The second day was uneventful, but on the third they were attacked by griffons. They were all for standing and fighting, until they realized that it wasn't one or two griffons, but fourteen, fully half the size of their company, and each as strong as at least four fighters. They sacrificed their horses to the beasts and ran for their lives. More troubling was the loss of the mules, who were carrying the water supply; several PCs were reduced to drinking marsh water, which may have consequences later.
It was also on the third day that, in the aftermath of the griffon debacle, the party's rangers led them astray into marshy terrain. There they were beset by giant biting flies, which slew three of their mercenaries and tore one of their henchmen's arms off before being driven away. They managed to find the trail again, and were relieved to see smoke from the hearths of Opportunity... until it turned out to be from the campfires of an orcish horde laying siege to the town in search of vengeance for the slaughter of one of their villages by the town's resident master assassin. I was pleasantly surprised that they dealt with this situation diplomatically, and in the end broke the siege, brought both the assassin and the orcish chief to ruin, and gained the favor of the (new) most prominent guild in the town of thieves known as Opportunity.
But I don't think they're going to chance the wilderness again anytime soon... the griffons are still out there. Waiting. And hungry for horse-flesh, or lacking that, man-flesh. More generally, "Large groups of very dangerous monsters are out there, and we don't have the power to deal with them yet." This pleases me, for it is well in keeping with the tradition of the Wilderlands of High Fantasy - there's a reason everything is city-states rather than nations, and that reason is that the wilderness between them is full of monsters, not peasants.
Also on the agenda for the next week or so:
- Mapping and stocking the Academy. I did a draft of the first level, and it's... unaccceptably lethal. Even for ACKS. So that stuff is getting shifted lower, and the first level stocked a little more mercifully.
- Alternate spell lists for clerics of Harmakhis, the god of trade and assassins. One of the PCs sent their L0 henchman with 18 Wis off to the only seminary in Opportunity, and I'd like to tweak them a little for flavor and variety.
- Rules for henchmen that stay in town; Drew's bard is pushing his six henchman limit, and wants to leave some behind so that 1) there are guaranteed survivors, and 2) fewer shares and people crowding the halls in the dungeon.
- Oh yeah - get more sleep. I've never fallen asleep behind the screen before... but I got pretty close while they were hiring henchmen and whatnot at the end of the session.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
It's Not Really a TPK...
... if all the henchmen escape.
Right?
Honestly, though, I'm really pleased with how the wholesale slaughter of PCs came to pass. The predicament in which they found themselves was very clearly a result of the choices they had made. This wasn't a "random encounter table result: bodak. Everyone dies"-type TPK. Additionally, there was a light of improbable herosim at the very end which was something of a redeeming factor.
And so, without further ado, the tale of the ill-fated Sixth Expedition into the Dwarven Fortress of Sandygates:
The three leaders of the expedition were Gallivan the paladin of Iana, Erggumun the elven nightblade, and Scarth the thief. In Gallivan's service were Tormond the scarred hammermaiden and Verimyr the healer, while Erggumun led Durgrim the berserker dwarf and his faithful war-hound Monty. Scarth was accompanied by the agile spearman Aldric. The stated intent of this expedition was to explore the newly-discovered fourth level of the dungeon, map the unmapped areas of the second level, and bring a barrel of ale to the troglodyte champion K'rrk in exchange for knowledge of the location of treasure. They couldn't get the barrel in through the arrow slits (after five expeditions, they've figured out how to open the front gate, but they left the key in the dungeon while fleeing from green slime previously), so they decided to head down to the second level first. There they recovered a little treasure from some ancient bedrooms, and left a large bathroom more-or-less unexplored (after the green slime on the bathroom ceiling previously, and K'rrk's warning about the Beast In The Pipes, they were rather leery) before being attacked by a swarm of skeletal ferrets. These wounded many members of the party, and Aldric was badly hurt.
While the ferrets were being dealt with, the ghostly shade of Lasai, Scarth's former henchman who he had killed and left in the dungeon, appeared seeking revenge upon her murderer. She aged him significantly before being driven off by holy water and enchanted blades. Tormond, Gallivan, and Verimyr all recognized her and questioned Scarth briefly, to no avail. Gallivan laid hands on Scarth and they continued to the north stairwell to go to the fourth level.
Upon opening the door to the fourth level, they found a large open space with what appeared to be metalworking equipment and mechanisms full of blind cave humanoids, including their women and children. Errgumun cast sleep into the mass, felling a few, but then they fled into the darkness beyond the light emitted by Gallivan's sword. Scarth threw a torch into the room, revealing a group of archers assembling just beyond the edge of the light (biological note - they may be blind, but apparently they can sense light. Perhaps an analog to the parietal eye), while spearmen moved around the edges toward the stairwell. Errgumun attempted to put the archers to sleep, but it was clear from the noises in the room that more of the creatures were gathering around the sides of the stairwell to flank if the party charged the archers, so they staged a fighting retreat up the stairs with Scarth pouring oil as they went.
They chose the crypts on the second level as the location to defend, since they came in that way and knew it to be clear (good thinking). When they finally lit the stairs, many of the enemy burned to death, but the few that made it through managed to injure Tormond and slay Monty, over whose death Errgumun was greatly dismayed, though he put down the surviving creatures his final sleep spell before they could injure anyone else. They also discovered that the creatures had smeared their blades with feces, and there was much fear of disease. Gallivan used the last of his laying on hands on Tormond and they decided to go back down to avenge Monty and wipe them out once and for all, with the hopes that the enemy's strength had been broken in the fire trap.
And that's about where everything started to go really wrong. Gallivan took the lead, magic shield in hand, and opened the door at the bottom of the stairs to a fusillade of arrows. He avoided all but one which caught him in the shoulder and reduced him to 4 HP; he fell back, handing the shield off to Tormond, while the party's archers (Verimyr, Scarth, and Errgumun) advanced to behind Tormond and began firing into the enemy, winnowing their ranks. When only one, an armored sergeant, remained, Tormond charged him, leaving a gap in the front line, while Errgumun moved out to the side of the stairwell.
The enemy's reserve of axemen, waiting in the darkness, took this as their opening and charged the door to the stairwell. They felled Scarth instantly, and injured both Verimyr and Errgumun. They also cut off Errgumun and Tormond from escaping up the stairs. Gallivan held them off long enough for Verimyr to escape, taking the injured Aldric and rearguard Durgrim with him, before being struck down at the foot of the stairs. Errgumun managed to slip silently away from his pursuers, and Tormond found herself surrounded. She maneuvered about, seeking an advantageous position and moving towards the stairwell, but Errgumun grew impatient and made a break for it while she had them distracted, lighting the oil in Scarth's pack afire as he went. Three creatures split from fighting Tormond and pursued him; two were slain by the fire, but the last cut him down halfway up the stairs.
And so Tormond found herself alone in the lair of the enemy, outnumbered eight to one, her mentor and lover Gallivan incinerated by an ally, with a roaring wall of flames between her and the only known exit. So she did what any right-thinking warrior woman would do - slew her foes to a man, sustaining only minor injuries, sacked their lair, discovered their terrible deity, desecrated their vile altars, looted the bodies of her fallen allies, stripped Gallivan's corpse of his armor, put the body in a sack, and began the long, slow trek back up the stairs (where, incidentally, she killed the creature that had slain and was now eating Errgumun). She encountered no resistance on her way out of the dungeon.
It was a very tense combat.
Durgrim's group was only marginally less fortunate; they were accosted by Lasai's wraith, who demanded a proper burial for her body. With no magic weapons to resist her, they agreed, and were lucky enough to meet no further enemies on the way out. She was buried in the sand outside the dungeon with a marker made from the shattered planks of the ale barrel.
Upon reconvening, all present agreed never to set foot in that accursed dungeon ever again, going so far as to sell the map to a merchant company specializing in dwarven antiquities. Durgrim retired to parts unknown, while Verimyr went back to hunting and trapping in the marshes. Aldric disappeared quietly, and Tormond paid to have Galladin resurrected... but he came back female, thereby complicating things greatly. As a paladin of Iana, returning as a female opened up advancement for him among the amazons, and he (er, she) set out to the north for Myrmidia, leaving Tormond alone with her scars, the magic shield, and the only knowledge of both the location of the chest of buried treasure and the terrible thing imprisoned beneath Sandygates...
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Journal of Gallivan Stoneshield, Part 1
Fouler things can lurk in dark,
Indeed, than you and I.
So trust not words to make their mark,
When comes your final sigh.
Let all your hopes be stone and steel,
Your dreams all do or die,
And when death comes,
Let all your sons drink one for you and I.
- Callon Silvertongue, “The Adventurer’s Creedo”
(This post brought to you by Tim, recording in detail the events glossed over here. I believe he provides a more-or-less hourly in-game summary, written during the rest turn taken every six turns. - ed.)
The Dardantine Razors, we call ourselves. It’s a foolish notion, to think we are strong, just because we have a name. We barely know each other, and it takes one traitor to remind us all how fragile we can be.
Of the 16 members of our caravan, only Errgumun, Yolanda, and myself survive. Argos the Mage is gone, without a corpse to mark his passage. The elf and I suspect that our magical stupor was his doing, and Yolanda fears the worst. Our employers and hirelings are dead, the goods we were transporting long gone. All we have is what little we carried with us. It may be enough to get back to civilization, but it will be a long time before we again trust a stranger so easily.
It has been two days since we were set upon, and we’ve managed to make it to the town of Deal. The hour is late, but we have found acceptable lodging for the night. No one in town has seen our missing mage, but I’ve instructed the barkeep to let us know if any news comes of him. On our march, we passed an enormous gate in the side of a canyon wall about 3 hours walk from town. Tomorrow we will return to it. It seemed relatively undisturbed, and lost treasures may lie within.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 23rd day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
(612 years after Iana’s Unification of Myrmydia)
I hired a young armorer today, to be my squire and receive instruction in the knightly ways. Tormund Smithson will accompany us on our expedition to the stone gate, to map its depths and assist us in fighting off the creatures of the deep. He’s a strong enough young lad, though he seems ill-at-ease in the company of strong warriors such as we. His parents are dead of plague, and he seeks some direction in his life. Perhaps we can provide it.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 24th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
After replenishing our supplies and equipping young Tormund, we made our way south, to the stone gate. The march was long, given the heat and oppressive conditions of the Shieldlands. The gate seems even larger up close, a full 15 feet tall and twice as wide. It is adorned with images of dwarves carving stone and laboring over forges. The gate is flanked by many arrow slits that seem to cover the approach, and the thing itself is made of solid stone. Spires with what appear to be bowls atop them extend from the top of the structure, probably for catching rain. We have decided to dub the ruin the Dwarf Fortress for now.There is no visible way to open the gate, and its stone doors weigh more than even Tormund and I could ever hope to move. We plan to boost Errgumun through one of the arrow slits to scout ahead while the rest of us climb up after him.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 24th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Yolanda is dying. While we were exploring the ruin, a giant spider came upon Errgumun. In his panic, he called for help, and while Yolanda was able to get to him in time, I found myself harried by an enormous swarm of bats roused by the noise. While I struggled to find my way through the swarm, Yolanda and Errgumun fought and killed the spider, but not before it managed to bite her. She has only a few moments left before the poison takes her. She desires burial with a proper holy symbol of Iana, hers having been stolen by the bandits that ambushed us. We will do what we can to see her wish fulfilled. Tormund, who I instructed to hang back when the fighting began, has helped me to construct a crude litter with which we can carry her back to Deal. We mean to look around this ruin a bit more before we depart, but we will return here after we have had a chance to recuperate from our adventure. May Iana guide our friend’s soul to the Hall Among the Stars, and help us to carry on her works in this world.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 24th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
After burying our brave friend Yolanda--may she rest in peace--Errgumun sold the treasure we recovered from the Dwarven ruin. A priest by the name of Agord wishes to join us on our next trip into the dungeon. He seems well-equipped, and his healing magic could make the difference between life and death in that dark place. He worships the elven sun god, a strange and foreign god to me, but Errgumun assures me that he seems to be a man of character.
After we finished selling our treasures, Errgumun disappeared off to the local tavern to drink and whore. I expect to see him in the morning, but for now, I rest.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 25th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Errgumun seems to have a acquired a war dog during last night’s adventures. It seems to be trained well enough. At least, it hasn’t bit me yet. After a long hike back to the Dwarf Fortress, Agord, Errgumun, Tormund, and I prepare to enter its depths once more. Errgumun informs me his dog’s name is Monty.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 26th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Undead! As we were exploring the dungeon, we came upon a pack of skeletal dogs... they would surely have torn us apart, if not for Agord’s timely intervention. He held his holy symbol aloft, and a burst of sunlight forced them back. I have a renewed respect for the elf god he worships.
Additionally, I discovered a powerful magical artifact amid some old boxes in a dwarven store-room. The sword (which I have not yet named), gives off a cool blue light in the dark, and it is elaborately made, with jewels inlaid in the hilt. I expect it shall be a constant companion through my future adventures.
Ah! Errgumun has just discovered a small room full of levers. I shall go investigate.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 26th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Alas, poor Agord. He saved us, but we could not save him... As we proceeded deeper into the dungeon, we came upon a corridor with a sloped floor. We should have known it was a trap. When he stepped on a pressure plate in the floor, grease shot out and a pit opened in the floor. Before anyone could do anything, he had slipped into the slimy embrace of a gelatinous cube. He was immediately paralyzed. He couldn’t even scream as his legs began to dissolve.
I asked Tormund to hold the end of a rope as I tied the other around my waist. He lowered me into the pit, and I attempted to grab Agord by the head, but the cube rose up to try and smite me. By the time I was finally able to grab him and haul him out of the pit, he was already gone. The paralysis stopped him from using the light of his lord to help himself, and there was naught we could do to bring him back, so Errgumun killed the foul creature with his bow. When it was dead, we fished an ornate runed gladius out of the dormant slime. Now we stand on the other side of the pit. A staircase leads deeper into the ruin. Though it pains me to leave him here, we are determined to see what it is Agord died for before we carry him out of this dark place.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 26th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Down the stairs were hallways gated with porticulles, a great hall with blind (but friendly) ogres, and a small pack of troglodytes led by their champion, Kirk. We also found a small chapel filled with cave dwellers. We chose not to engage them.
Above the great hall we found some spellbooks and dwarven ledgers and killed some rats. Now we leave this accursed place. We will bury Agord beneath the sand, in the eyes of his shining god.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 26th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Errgumun has hired a saucy dwarf named Durgrim. He can certainly hold his liquor. Well kind of. The other day Errgumun woke up in a jail cell with another nightblade. He stole her treasure map while she slept. The very same night, Durgrim went to bed with a local merchant’s daughter. Who knows what may come of this...
I also have a vague recollection of confronting the local priestess of Ashtar, and perhaps... fighting her eunuch guard? But... most importantly... it seems Tormund is not a man.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 3rd day of the 8th moon, 612 A.U.
Indeed, than you and I.
So trust not words to make their mark,
When comes your final sigh.
Let all your hopes be stone and steel,
Your dreams all do or die,
And when death comes,
Let all your sons drink one for you and I.
- Callon Silvertongue, “The Adventurer’s Creedo”
(This post brought to you by Tim, recording in detail the events glossed over here. I believe he provides a more-or-less hourly in-game summary, written during the rest turn taken every six turns. - ed.)
The Dardantine Razors, we call ourselves. It’s a foolish notion, to think we are strong, just because we have a name. We barely know each other, and it takes one traitor to remind us all how fragile we can be.
Of the 16 members of our caravan, only Errgumun, Yolanda, and myself survive. Argos the Mage is gone, without a corpse to mark his passage. The elf and I suspect that our magical stupor was his doing, and Yolanda fears the worst. Our employers and hirelings are dead, the goods we were transporting long gone. All we have is what little we carried with us. It may be enough to get back to civilization, but it will be a long time before we again trust a stranger so easily.
It has been two days since we were set upon, and we’ve managed to make it to the town of Deal. The hour is late, but we have found acceptable lodging for the night. No one in town has seen our missing mage, but I’ve instructed the barkeep to let us know if any news comes of him. On our march, we passed an enormous gate in the side of a canyon wall about 3 hours walk from town. Tomorrow we will return to it. It seemed relatively undisturbed, and lost treasures may lie within.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 23rd day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
(612 years after Iana’s Unification of Myrmydia)
I hired a young armorer today, to be my squire and receive instruction in the knightly ways. Tormund Smithson will accompany us on our expedition to the stone gate, to map its depths and assist us in fighting off the creatures of the deep. He’s a strong enough young lad, though he seems ill-at-ease in the company of strong warriors such as we. His parents are dead of plague, and he seeks some direction in his life. Perhaps we can provide it.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 24th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
After replenishing our supplies and equipping young Tormund, we made our way south, to the stone gate. The march was long, given the heat and oppressive conditions of the Shieldlands. The gate seems even larger up close, a full 15 feet tall and twice as wide. It is adorned with images of dwarves carving stone and laboring over forges. The gate is flanked by many arrow slits that seem to cover the approach, and the thing itself is made of solid stone. Spires with what appear to be bowls atop them extend from the top of the structure, probably for catching rain. We have decided to dub the ruin the Dwarf Fortress for now.There is no visible way to open the gate, and its stone doors weigh more than even Tormund and I could ever hope to move. We plan to boost Errgumun through one of the arrow slits to scout ahead while the rest of us climb up after him.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 24th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Yolanda is dying. While we were exploring the ruin, a giant spider came upon Errgumun. In his panic, he called for help, and while Yolanda was able to get to him in time, I found myself harried by an enormous swarm of bats roused by the noise. While I struggled to find my way through the swarm, Yolanda and Errgumun fought and killed the spider, but not before it managed to bite her. She has only a few moments left before the poison takes her. She desires burial with a proper holy symbol of Iana, hers having been stolen by the bandits that ambushed us. We will do what we can to see her wish fulfilled. Tormund, who I instructed to hang back when the fighting began, has helped me to construct a crude litter with which we can carry her back to Deal. We mean to look around this ruin a bit more before we depart, but we will return here after we have had a chance to recuperate from our adventure. May Iana guide our friend’s soul to the Hall Among the Stars, and help us to carry on her works in this world.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 24th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
After burying our brave friend Yolanda--may she rest in peace--Errgumun sold the treasure we recovered from the Dwarven ruin. A priest by the name of Agord wishes to join us on our next trip into the dungeon. He seems well-equipped, and his healing magic could make the difference between life and death in that dark place. He worships the elven sun god, a strange and foreign god to me, but Errgumun assures me that he seems to be a man of character.
After we finished selling our treasures, Errgumun disappeared off to the local tavern to drink and whore. I expect to see him in the morning, but for now, I rest.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 25th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Errgumun seems to have a acquired a war dog during last night’s adventures. It seems to be trained well enough. At least, it hasn’t bit me yet. After a long hike back to the Dwarf Fortress, Agord, Errgumun, Tormund, and I prepare to enter its depths once more. Errgumun informs me his dog’s name is Monty.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 26th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Undead! As we were exploring the dungeon, we came upon a pack of skeletal dogs... they would surely have torn us apart, if not for Agord’s timely intervention. He held his holy symbol aloft, and a burst of sunlight forced them back. I have a renewed respect for the elf god he worships.
Additionally, I discovered a powerful magical artifact amid some old boxes in a dwarven store-room. The sword (which I have not yet named), gives off a cool blue light in the dark, and it is elaborately made, with jewels inlaid in the hilt. I expect it shall be a constant companion through my future adventures.
Ah! Errgumun has just discovered a small room full of levers. I shall go investigate.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 26th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Alas, poor Agord. He saved us, but we could not save him... As we proceeded deeper into the dungeon, we came upon a corridor with a sloped floor. We should have known it was a trap. When he stepped on a pressure plate in the floor, grease shot out and a pit opened in the floor. Before anyone could do anything, he had slipped into the slimy embrace of a gelatinous cube. He was immediately paralyzed. He couldn’t even scream as his legs began to dissolve.
I asked Tormund to hold the end of a rope as I tied the other around my waist. He lowered me into the pit, and I attempted to grab Agord by the head, but the cube rose up to try and smite me. By the time I was finally able to grab him and haul him out of the pit, he was already gone. The paralysis stopped him from using the light of his lord to help himself, and there was naught we could do to bring him back, so Errgumun killed the foul creature with his bow. When it was dead, we fished an ornate runed gladius out of the dormant slime. Now we stand on the other side of the pit. A staircase leads deeper into the ruin. Though it pains me to leave him here, we are determined to see what it is Agord died for before we carry him out of this dark place.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 26th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Down the stairs were hallways gated with porticulles, a great hall with blind (but friendly) ogres, and a small pack of troglodytes led by their champion, Kirk. We also found a small chapel filled with cave dwellers. We chose not to engage them.
Above the great hall we found some spellbooks and dwarven ledgers and killed some rats. Now we leave this accursed place. We will bury Agord beneath the sand, in the eyes of his shining god.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 26th day of the 7th moon, 612 A.U.
Errgumun has hired a saucy dwarf named Durgrim. He can certainly hold his liquor. Well kind of. The other day Errgumun woke up in a jail cell with another nightblade. He stole her treasure map while she slept. The very same night, Durgrim went to bed with a local merchant’s daughter. Who knows what may come of this...
I also have a vague recollection of confronting the local priestess of Ashtar, and perhaps... fighting her eunuch guard? But... most importantly... it seems Tormund is not a man.
- Galivan Stoneshield, 3rd day of the 8th moon, 612 A.U.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
ACKS: First Session Complete
Well, first round of reviews of the first session of ACKS are in:
"More fun than 3.5" - Tom
"More terrifying than that OD&D game I played on the internet once" - Joe
"It's not cursed!" - Tim, about his sword (it's cursed)
Mission accomplished, I think. Monsters were stabbed, treasure was gathered, PCs were slain (sorry Joe), and fun was had. In eight hours of playing, the Dardantine Razors managed two expeditions into the dwarven ruins south of Deal with the aid of their trusty henchman (er, woman) Tormond and their pyrophobic war dog Monty. About an hour was spent before the game finalizing character sheets and hiring, followed by about two hours of adventuring for the first expedition, then an hour of pizza and dividing loot, three more hours of adventuring for the second expedition, and a final hour of more hiring and carousing (note to self - in future, roll once on the debauchery table, rather than once per 100 gold pieces spent. I think since the PCs decided they were going to bum around Deal for a week, I might have to spread those rolls out, because otherwise that was one hell of a night...). One thing that this timing analysis leads me to believe is that a 3-4 hour weeknight session is probably very viable, especially if hiring and purchasing is done via internet beforehand. This pleases me.
Other miscellaneous notes:
"More fun than 3.5" - Tom
"More terrifying than that OD&D game I played on the internet once" - Joe
"It's not cursed!" - Tim, about his sword (it's cursed)
Mission accomplished, I think. Monsters were stabbed, treasure was gathered, PCs were slain (sorry Joe), and fun was had. In eight hours of playing, the Dardantine Razors managed two expeditions into the dwarven ruins south of Deal with the aid of their trusty henchman (er, woman) Tormond and their pyrophobic war dog Monty. About an hour was spent before the game finalizing character sheets and hiring, followed by about two hours of adventuring for the first expedition, then an hour of pizza and dividing loot, three more hours of adventuring for the second expedition, and a final hour of more hiring and carousing (note to self - in future, roll once on the debauchery table, rather than once per 100 gold pieces spent. I think since the PCs decided they were going to bum around Deal for a week, I might have to spread those rolls out, because otherwise that was one hell of a night...). One thing that this timing analysis leads me to believe is that a 3-4 hour weeknight session is probably very viable, especially if hiring and purchasing is done via internet beforehand. This pleases me.
Other miscellaneous notes:
- Clerics and bladedancers may have the best saves except for craftpriests, but you wouldn't know it from the way Joe was rolling... On the other hand, turning undead turned a "We're screwed" encounter into an easy mop-up operation.
- Gelatinous cube paralysis lasts a long-ass time. Far too long for Joe's cleric to save himself from bleeding out.
- I was pleased with Tim's immediate response to "Well, you've lifted the portcullis, but it doesn't want to stay up." - "We nail it open with iron spikes!" Now if only they'd remembered to use the ten-foot poles on the gellycube pit trap...
- Reaction tables - with Diplomacy, +1 Cha, and no weapons drawn, sometimes the ogres are friendly. Likewise, sometimes the rodents of unusual size lurk around the edge of your torchlight, waiting for either an opportunity to attack or a reason to flee.
- Dungeon mapping - actually got Tim to map this session. He found it somewhat fun, I believe. I might be helping a bit much, but I have yet to develop a precise vocabulary for describing what they see in a mappable fashion. (See also this post from the future)
- Gridless combat - ye gods, why did we never do this before? Worked pretty well, I think.
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