SESSION 34B: WEBS OF AMBUSH AND BETRAYAL

January 5th, 2009
The 18th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

A hideous, spider-like creature with a human-like head and face dropped onto the floor next to Agnarr. It landed softly on its skittering legs, then raised its front claws and sent a bolt of lightning lancing across the cavern – scorching Tor and Dominic, who had just begun to charge across the cavern.

The creature turned back towards Agnarr, but it had underestimated the barbarian’s speed. Agnarr’s greatsword opened a gash along one side of the creature.

Tee, recovering from the enchantment that had been laid on her, stood up—

And the door behind her was swung open. Before she had a chance to turn, a sword sliced painfully into her side and sent her spinning to the floor in pain. Turning she saw Gavele – the cultist she had seen breaking up the fracas over Reggaloch’s corpse – pulling back her blade with a grim smile.

Tor, scarcely slowed by the lightning that had seared him, reached the spider-like creature. He cut a gash along its other side, causing it to cry out. “Gavele! Help me!”

Gavele shook her head. “You’re on your own Ibulli!” She slammed the door shut – thwarting Tee, who had just bounded back to her feet once again.

“Damn you, bell bitch!” The spider-thing skittered up the wall of the tower.

Tee activated her magical boots and began floating up in pursuit, but Ibulli – seeing her – shot a gob of web at her, pinning her to the wall. A few moments later, Ibulli slipped away through a hole near the ceiling of the cavern and disappeared into the tower.

THROUGH THE TOWER

Meanwhile, below, Tor threw himself against the tower door and burst it open. The inside of the tower was bereft of interior walls with a floor of sandy, hard-packed dirt. A broken staircase wound its way around the inner wall of the tower, up to a trapdoor in the ceiling above.

By the time Tor burst in, Gavele had already crossed the entire tower (with seemingly preternatural speed). Tor and Agnarr raced to catch her, but she managed to wrench open the far door, slip through it, and slam it shut behind her.

But only a moment after the door was shut, Angarr was at it. Seizing the heavy metal ring, Agnarr ripped it open. Gavele – who had been trying to hold it shut while slipping a key into the lock – was wrenched off her feet. Tor, who was only half a stride behind Agnarr, cut her down where she stood.

Tor positioned himself in the open door, keeping a watchful eye on the large chamber beyond. This chamber had seemingly been formed by excavating the space between the tower and another ancient building. The excavation was incomplete, however, with only part of the lower building exposed from the wall. Several passages led away from the chamber – two to the north and one to the south. Flanking one of the northern passages were two statues carved to look like humans in robes but with translucent, smoky grey glass spheres in place of heads.

Everything within seemed still and quiet.

While Tor kept watch, Agnarr went back to help Tee. Stuck as she was, she had managed to get a rope out of her pouch, tie it around her waist, and drop it down to the floor below. Agnarr was able to climb up this and used his flaming sword to burn her free (giving her a little pain here and there as he did).

THRALLS & QUASITS

Once the web was burned away, it was an easy matter for Tee to safely levitate both of them back to the cavern floor below. They joined the rest of the group in the tower.

Before they had a chance to plan their next move, however, two venom-shaped thralls leapt from the roof of the partially excavated building and landed on the ground about twenty feet away. These were large, more muscular, and less recognizably human than their brethren above – clearly suffering from a more advanced form of the askara-induced mutations, which seemed to continue apace even after the victims had emerged from their cocoons.

Tor rapidly backpedaled through the door and slammed it shut.

“Agnarr!”

Agnarr quickly crossed the tower to Tor’s side.

And at that moment, Agnarr and Tor were suddenly filled with a supernatural terror. Agnarr managed to shake it off, but Tor – with a horrible scream – ripped open the door again and ran through it.

The thralls, perhaps surprised at the sudden going-and-coming, swung wildly at Tor ran past them and missed as he fled down an excavated tunnel to the northeast.

A high-pitched, cackling laugh filled the tower. Whirling to see its source, the others spotted two small, winged demons sitting on the staircase.

These quasits were laughing almost helplessly at the sight of Tor’s flight, and Agnarr – with a single bounding leap across the tower – cut one of them down before it had a chance to react. Tee took a shot at the other, blasting a large hole in its wing.

Whirling hate-filled eyes towards her, the quasit gave a sibilant hiss of pain and rage… and vanished.

Tor, meanwhile, had disappeared from sight. It was impossible to follow him, because the venom-shaped thralls were closing rapidly on the open door.

Agnarr stepped into the breach… and things turned frenetic. Blows of fang and claw came quicker than the eyes of the others could follow, but Agnarr turned each of them – deflecting some, absorbing others with cunning angling of his body and armor.

And then the seemingly impossible began to happen: Agnarr was driving them back, using their long reach against them by repeatedly stepping in close to their bodies.

Once there was enough of a gap, Seeaeti slipped around the thralls and, with the dog nipping at their heels, Agnarr was able to start landing some blows of his own. The others prepared to follow his lead through the door and engage.

THE RETURN OF IBULLI

But just as the tide was turning, a beam of purplish-black energy struck Agnarr in the back and the strength drained from his limbs. Ibulli had returned – slipping through the trapdoor at the top of the tower.

While Agnarr continued to hold the line against the thralls, the others – still within the tower – fell into a confused response. Tee fired, sending the spider-thing skittering across the ceiling. Ranthir backed away, but prepared to counter any more spells it might attempt. Dominic shouted out a warning to Agnarr.

Elestra raised her dragon rifle… and got a face full of web. Tee moved to assist her and found herself, once again, webbed in place.

The thralls, meanwhile, had become weary of Seeaeti hounding them and one of them turned towards the dog. Agnarr was out of position to defend him and he could only shout in outrage and concern as Seeaeti’s back was ripped to shreds. With a whimpering whine, Seeaeti twisted away from the thrall.

Dominic, hearing the hound’s howl, darted through the door. At the touch of his wand, the wounds on Seeaeti’s back slowly knit themselves back together. Seeaeti happily bounded back to his feet, turned towards Dominic, and licked him happily on the face.

THE RETURN OF THE QUASITS

Elestra started cutting her way out of the web. She’d only managed to free one arm, however, when the surviving quasit reappeared behind her. It clawed its way up her legs and back, leaving a trail of bloody puncture wounds that burned with a painful venom, before burying its fang-like teeth in the back of her neck.

Elestra cut at it futilely with her rapier, but it leapt away and – chittering with malevolent laughter – vanished again.

Dominic was still wiping Seeaeti’s slobber from his face when he heard Elestra cry out. He ran back into the tower. But, as he passed through the door, he, too, found himself stuck fast – another victim of Ibulli’s web.

Elestra was trying to finish cutting herself free, but the pain spreading from the quasit-inflicted wounds was growing more intense. The wounds themselves were rapidly inflaming with an intense, searing heat, but there was also a chilling shake spreading through her muscles. It was poison.

TOR TURNS AROUND

In his flight, Tor had emerged from the first passage into a roughly circular chamber. Into this chamber an underground stream flowed, pouring down into a large circular pit in the center of the chamber. He passed through this chamber and down another passage, finally coming to a stop – as his mind cleared – a short distance from an iron door.

Cursing loudly he turned and ran back towards the fight.

Running the Campaign: Faction v. Faction – Campaign Journal: Session 34C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

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I can’t do a murder mystery because the PCs will just cast zone of truth!

Awhile back I shared Random GM Tip: Speak With Dead Mysteries, which looks at the particular challenges of designing a murder mystery scenario when the PCs have access to the speak with dead spell (or some similar magical or technological effect). A common follow-up question from people reading this article is, “But what about zone of truth?”

As I mentioned in the original article, you have to start by embracing the fundamental dynamic of a mystery: It’s not to withhold information from the detective(s); it’s about the detective(s) acquiring information.

Insofar as the zone of truth serves as one method that the PCs can use to acquire information, therefore, it won’t be a problem. It will only become a problem if (a) it trivializes all other methods of acquiring information and/or (b) short circuits a specific investigation.

Keeping that in mind, let’s take a closer look.

WHICH ZONE OF TRUTH?

There can be considerable differences in how zone of truth and similar effects work, and this will obviously have an impact on how it affects investigations.

First: Do spellcasters know when the targets of their spells — particularly enchantment spells — make their saving throws?

Personally, I prefer No. (And will often apply this as a house rule even in systems where the answer would be Yes under the rules-as-written or rules-as-intended.) I think pretending to go along with a caster’s domination spell, for example, is a classic genre trope.

This is how zone of truth worked in D&D 2^nd Edition and 3^rd Edition, and it obviously adds a layer of ambiguity to the spell. (If two people contradict each other, is that just a difference of opinion/belief? Or did one of them make their saving throw? Or both of them?) D&D 5^th Edition, on the other hand, adds specific language allowing the caster to know when the spell is in effect, stripping ambiguity.

Second: How often can a character resist the effects of the zone of truth? Do they make a single saving throw when entering the zone? Make a new saving throw every round? Make a saving throw each time they need to make a declarative statement or answer an explicit question?

Once again, D&D 5^th Edition’s version of the effect is the most troublesome for mysteries.

Third: Does the target know they’re in a zone of truth before they speak? If so, it allows them to account for the zone in what they say and how they choose to answer questions.

This has been true for every version of the D&D spell. Wonder Woman’s golden lasso, on the other hand, is usually depicted as surprising those bound by it.

Fourth: Does the effect compel the target to answer direct questions? This would obviously also make the spell a much more powerful tool in the detective’s arsenal, but it’s also not how the D&D spell works.

IDENTIFY THE QUESTION

To paraphrase something Margaret Frazer’s Dame Frevisse once said, the secret to solving a mystery is less about the answers you get to your questions than it is knowing what questions to ask and who to ask them of in the first place.

Often when talking about zone of truth mysteries in a hypothetical sense rather than a practical one, it seems people often default to thinking about an Agatha Christie-style murder mystery where there are eight specific suspects isolated on a country estate. In this scenario, with access to a zone of truth, it’s quite easy to identify both the question (Did you kill Bob?) and who you need to ask (the eight suspects).

But this type of scenario isn’t really common in RPGs to begin with: The plotting of these stories depends on the author having tight control over which questions are asked and when they’re asked in order to create a clever logic puzzle, the solution of which can only occur to the detective at the moment of the author’s choosing. Even if you want to prep a plot in an RPG — and you shouldn’t — it’s still basically impossible to force this kind of sequencing at the table.

As a result, RPG mystery scenarios tend to be built around other structures. For example, it’s not unusual for a mystery scenario to begin at a crime scene filled with physical evidence — e.g., the bloody carnage of a worg attack or the pale gray corpse of a vampire killing — and nary a suspect in sight. Before the PCs can start asking questions, they’ll first need to figure out — as Dame Frevisse said — what the questions are.

To put it another way: Zone of truth can’t short circuit the investigation if the investigation is about figuring who you need to question in the first place.

Next time you’re reading a well-made RPG mystery scenario — like Eternal Lies or Quantronic Heat — take note of how rarely NPCs actually lie to the PCs. Even NPCs who are just withholding information aren’t terribly common. In other words, even without a zone of truth, it’s not unusual for every NPC in these scenarios to say nothing but true things, and the scenario still works just fine.

There is one exploit, however, that clever players can use a zone of truth to unlock:

Can you think of anything that would help our investigation if we knew about it?

Given any kind of limited suspect pool, this question can be used as a quick shortcut for identifying the question(s) they need to ask to solve the mystery, so if you don’t want to get caught flat-footed at the table, it can be useful to prep the clever answer your bad guy(s) will use to evade it.

A good, one-size-fits-all solution here is the incomplete answer: They have to speak the truth, so they do, in fact, have to give the PCs something helpful. But it doesn’t have to be everything that they know would be helpful, nor does it need to be the most helpful thing. Stuff that wastes a ton of time while, technically, being useful is a great fit here.

Can you think of anything else that would be helpful?

Clever player.

The NPC can’t say, “No,” of course, but deflecting back to the first answer is usually possible.

Player: Can you think of anything that would help our investigation if we knew about it?

Bad Guy: I’d check the security cameras.

Player: Can you think of anything else that would be helpful?

Bad Guy: Hmm… I really think the security cameras are what you should check next.

GAIN ACCESS

The other crucial thing about deploying a zone of truth is that you need to (a) get the suspect in the zone and (b) get them to answer your questions.

Returning to our Christie-style manor mystery, if seven of the suspects all readily hop into your zone of truth and the eighth suspect refuses, then the jig is probably up. To avoid this problem, you need to have multiple suspects refuse. The PCs may still be able to use the spell (or the threat of the spell) to narrow the scope of their investigation, but not close it.

The reason for refusal might be specific to each character. The most likely explanation would be some dark secret unrelated (or at least not directly related) to the crime that they nevertheless do not want discovered.

Alternatively, it might be a society-wide condition that can be broadly applied. For example, it might be a cultural more that casting an enchantment spell on someone is unacceptably rude or unethical, such that even suggesting it will likely provoke an outraged response. It could even be a matter of explicit law, with the use of such spells being tightly regulated, limited, and controlled.

This touches on another issue, which is whether or not the PCs have the authority to question people. If they’re police detectives, then it will give them an advantage. (Although they’ll also probably have to abide more closely to the aforementioned laws, in which case they may need to do a bunch of legwork before they can deploy their spell.) If they’re just a bunch of random bozos who have wandered into town, it may be a lot easier for the suspect to dodge their calls.

Which leads us to another obstacle to gaining access, which is just literally finding them. Sure, you want to question Bob. But the door to his apartment has been kicked in, the place has been ransacked, and he’s either been kidnapped or is in the wind. In other words, the mystery — or a significant part of the mystery — can just literally be trying to track down the person you want to use your zone of truth spell on.

Of course, in order to find the person you want to question, you first have to identify them. The manor mystery, of course, still assumes that the list of suspects is immediately obvious, but in a lot of mysteries it’s anything but.

For example, you’ve found Bob: He’s been brutally murdered and his corpse dumped in an alley. You can’t question every single person in the city, so you’re going to have to figure out how to narrow down your suspect list first.

Even once you’ve gotten a suspect into the zone of truth, though, access can continue to be a problem if you enforce the time limit. The D&D 5^th Edition spell, for example, only lasts for ten minutes. That time can vanish surprisingly quickly, so set a timer.

This can be even more of a limitation in a manor house mystery: How many suspects can you rush through the circle before you run out of spells for the day?

If the PCs are trying to rush bunches of NPCs through their zones and you don’t want to play through every encounter, might rule that each witness requires 2d6 minutes or questioning; or perhaps 1d4+1 minutes if the PCs take disadvantage on their interrogation checks.

DESIGN THE CRIME

Imagine that it’s 1850 and you’re anachronistically GMing a roleplaying game. The science fiction game you’re running describes strange devices known as “security cameras” which record everything that takes place in a room.

“How am I supposed to design a mystery scenario when there are security cameras everywhere?!” you cry. “They can just see who did the crime!”

Modern criminals, of course, simply know that security cameras exist and they plan their crimes accordingly. In many cases, the evidence they leave behind while countering the security cameras will be the very clues detectives use to track them down!

An easy solution, of course, is to say something like, “I drank a potion of anti-enchantment that lasts for forty-eight hours,” thus negating the zone of truth entirely. (A clever criminal, of course, will make sure they have some perfectly reasonable pretext for having done so. An even cleverer criminal will have slipped it into the drinks last night and everyone at the manor house has immunity.)

This sort of stonewalling — where the PCs’ abilities are simply negated — is mostly just frustrating, however. It’s usually more fun to find ways that don’t just completely shut off the spell.

To put our suspect at their maximum disadvantage, let’s once again return to the manor house scenario that takes so many other options (access, identifications, etc.) off the table. This, however, is precisely the situation in which the murderer would anticipate a zone of truth. So how would they plan for that?

• They would anticipate the question, “Did you kill so-and-so?” and therefore have planned their crime so that they can honestly say, “No,” (e.g., they tricked them into suicide, arranged for a convenient accident, or hired someone else to kill them).
• They sent a dominated doppelganger disguised as themselves to enter the zone of truth. If the doppelganger’s identity is discovered, the PCs will find the NPC “knocked out” and tied up in their room. Who did this to them?! The mystery deepens. (Meanwhile, the zone of truth has expired.)
• They covertly trigger a dispel magic effect that destroys the zone of truth, possibly while someone else is being questioned. How many of those spells can you cast today, exactly?
• They arrange for a distraction. “Can you confirm that your name is Miguel Cavaste?” “Yes.” “Can you—” EXPLOSION. By the time of the chaos of the explosion is dealt with, the zone of truth has once again expired.

And so forth.

CONVERSATIONAL GAMBITS

Taking all of the above into consideration, there will nonetheless come the time when the suspect is in the zone of truth and faced with the PCs’ questions.

Maybe that’s all she wrote: Either they confess dramatically, surrender meekly, or initiate the final action scene by attacking the PCs, summoning reinforcements, or attempting to flee.

On the other hand, maybe not.

Instead, the zone of truth questioning can become a cat-and-mouse game: a final riddle for the players to unravel.

Let’s take a look at the conversational gambits an NPC (or PC!) might use when trapped, literally or metaphorically, in a zone of truth.

We’ve already mentioned giving incomplete answers. Just because you have to say true things, doesn’t mean you need to say EVERY true thing you know. Questions like, “Did you see anything suspicious last night?” gives the suspect a huge latitude in directing the interrogators’ attention towards any number of useful distractions.

They can also answer a question with a question. A question, technically, cannot be a lie. So if they can slip this past the interrogators, it can often create the illusion of a false answer: “Do you think Robert could have done this?” or “I had drinks with Marcia last night… what time was it? Around six?”

Another option is to simply refuse to answer. This, of course, looks suspicious. However, we’ve previously talked about cultural mores (“I plead the fifth!”) and simply feigning outrage (“How dare you ask me that?!”) can deflect or, at the very least, buy time.

On that note, simply rambling, delaying, feigning confusion, or otherwise running out the clock is also a perfectly viable strategy when you know the zone of truth has an unforgiving time limit.

SOLUTION IS A KEY, NOT A CONCLUSION

If you think in terms of node-based scenario design, the goal of any interrogation is to gain a lead that will point you to another node where you can continue your investigation.

As long as this remains true, the zone of truth only provides a key that you wanted the PCs to get in the first place. And therefore, of course, the zone of truth isn’t a problem at all.

So this can also bring us back to some basic first principles in RPG scenario design: Don’t prep the specific things that the PCs will do. Instead, prep a robust, dynamic situation for the PCs to interact with.

If you try to prep a specific thing for the PCs to do, the zone of truth can thwart you by giving them an alternative method of achieving their goal. But if you’ve prepped an interesting situation, then the zone of truth will often just be one more prompt for you to respond to with all the cool toys you’ve made for yourself.

FURTHER READING
Speak with Dead Mysteries
Three Clue Rule

Go to Table of Contents

Looking over our options, it’s clear that there are A LOT of different directions the end of our campaign could go. Trying to come to grips with this myriad complexity — particularly if we tried to imagine doing so as a set of linear or branching paths — may feel like a daunting or even impossible task.

But we have a couple of advantages in our favor.

First, we don’t need to fully commit to anything specific until we know a lot more about what the specific group of PCs in our campaign is going to do: Are they going to ally with the Harpers and hunt giants? Ally with the storm giants and squash the many-headed giant rebellions? Lead a draconic crusade? We don’t need to worry about all the details of the stuff they don’t do; we just need to focus on the fallout from the actions they actually take.

Second, we don’t need to prep this stuff as linear plots. In fact, we definitely don’t want to do that. In a campaign as wide-open and far-flung as Storm King’s Thunder, that would lead us down a maddening and almost inconceivable rabbit hole of hopeless contingency-planning. On the other hand, we also don’t want to just leave the entire end of the campaign a blank tabula rasa with the hope that it will all magically work itself out.

Instead, what we want to do is prep the situation, creating a set of toys that will let us flexibly respond to whatever path the PCs choose to take (even if it’s a completely unexpected one that they forge for themselves). To do this, let’s step back and take a broad look at all the options we’ve considered for the final act of the campaign and identify the core mechanisms used in our imagined paths.

DESTROY THE THREAT

• The PCs will wage war against the giants, smashing their strongholds.
• To do this, they will need to form alliances that can help them defeat the giants.

PATH OF CONQUEST

• The PCs will form an alliance with a giant faction.
• The PCs will help them wage war against the other giant clans.

A DRACONIC CRUSADE

• The PCs will form an alliance with a giant faction.
• The PCs will help them wage war on the dragons.

LEAD THE FUTURE

• Likely after beginning to follow one of the paths above, the PCs will gather allies, forming a faction that will eventually rule the new Ordning.

Broken down like this, it’s immediately obvious that there’s a common structure here, and also what that structure needs:

• Details on the various factions in the campaign, along with a structure by which the PCs can forge alliances with the factions.
• A structure for waging war, allowing us to pit these factions against each other.

This is our toolkit, and if we set it up properly then these tools will allow us to easily and actively respond to whatever the PCs do, no matter what path they decide to take.

Go to Part 5D: Making Alliances

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 34A: In the Dust of the Old City

You can assure Reggaloch that additional slaves will be sent to him within the week. We have become very interested to discover what our Brothers of Venom are doing that requires such a constant flow of common flock. We have asked Illadras, but she has told us not to concern ourselves with it. Be cautious, but discover what you can.

Urnest

Sauron and Saruman.

The similarity in their names — and the confusion it’s engendered in generations of book-readers and film-watchers — is often held up as a cautionary tale to writers: If character names are too similar to each other, it will make it difficult for your readers to differentiate them.

In the specific case of Sauron and Saruman, the confusion was so feared that, infamously, Saruman’s name was changed to Aruman in Ralph Bakshi’s animated version of The Lord of the Rings.

The questionable wisdom of Bakshi’s decision aside, this is nevertheless advice also well-heeded by GMs.

This confusion of names is actually something I ran afoul of in this session. In brief:

• Urnst is the name of the Commissar who rules the city of Ptolus.
• Urnest is the name of a chaos cultist based out of the Temple of the Rat God.

So when my players encountered this note from Urnest, the entire group was suddenly filled with dread: Oh, no! The Commissar is in league with the cultists!

… and this was despite the fact that they’d already made this mistake once before.

In that older installment of Running the Campaign, I talked about how and why you can maneuver your way out of that situation, but I wanted to approach it from a slightly different angle today: While acknowledging the logistical challenges that can be created by similar names, why would you want to nevertheless have similar names?

First, if you’re dealing with a sufficiently large cast of characters (which is not unusual in a long-running RPG campaign), it can simply be a matter of necessity. For example, you’ll sometimes hear the Sauron/Saruman rule given as, “You should never have two character names with the same first letter.”

Except that would mean never including more than twenty-six characters, and then only if you’re willing to include some exotic X’s and Z’s and the like. (Although this is quite a bit easier in your typical fantasy fare.)

Second, there could by any number of practical reasons for doing so. Tolkien, for example, may have chosen the names deliberately for their similarity and the thematic resonance it would have in the book. Or, because the names were ultimately derived from the languages he had created from Middle Earth, the linguistic world-building may have been the most important factor for him. (He never commented on this issue, so we don’t really know if it ever occurred to him.)

Similarly, in the Ptolus sourcebook there are two more characters named Urnst: Vladimir and Taltos Urnst are alchemists operating a shop in the Undercity. Unlike Urnest, however, the similarity of their names to Commissar Igor Urnst is not a coincidence, as they “claim to be distant cousins of the Commissar…”

When you have similarly named characters, though, there are a few things you can do to help your players (and maybe even yourself) keep things straight:

• Keep the characters in different spheres of the campaign from each other — different locations or different factions, for example.
• Is there a different name that they could be referred to? (A first name or nickname, for example.)
• Give one or more of the characters a title (Lord, Chancellor, Empress) and use it consistently to distinguish the characters.
• Provide context reminders to help nudge your players’ memory (e.g., “Tessa, who you meet at the tavern last week…”).

Some of these tips are a good idea even if the character’s name ISN’T similar to anyone else!

Campaign Journal: Session 34B – Running the Campaign: TBD
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index