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Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire
IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 38B: NASIRA’S STORY

June 7th, 2009
The 21st Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Tavern Row Sign - Monte Cook Games

THE END OF THE TAVERN ROW WAR

They returned to the Ghostly Minstrel, wondering if their scheme had successfully confounded Silion and her minions. (Or if, in fact, it had been necessary at all: They had seen no signs of pursuit.) Approaching the inn they saw, much to Tee’s delight, that Daersidian’s dragon mount was tethered outside. Inside, the Minstrel was humming with activity: Cardalian, eating a meal in one corner, gave them a friendly wave as they came through the door, and she was only one among more than a dozen familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Tee took her meal to a table near the windows where she could look out on the dragon (sending herself into peels of bliss when it looked in at her), but Elestra and Agnarr chose to join Daersidian himself where he was sitting with his friend Brusselt, Jevicca, and Steron Vsool. They chatted casually about nothing of much import, until Agnarr — uncharacteristically finding himself abashed — built up the courage to ask Jevicca to train Seeaeti with him.

Jevicca smiled and laughed. “You have a dog?”

“A fine and noble hound!”

Jevicca politely declined, but agreed that they should find some time to spend together soon.

Ranthir, meanwhile, found himself distracted by a heavily tattooed man who was drinking at the bar. The man was only half-clothed, allowing Ranthir to observe a great many of the intricate tattoos, which he recognized as being of an arcane and particularly esoteric quality. He eventually built up the nerve to approach the man.

“Um… excuse me?”

“Yes?” the man asked with a nasty edge in his voice. “What do you want?”

“I was curious about your rather remarkable tattoos.”

“What about them?”

“What do… what do they do?”

At the first the man seemed suspicious and even a little hostile, but after Ranthir offered to buy him a drink (the first of many) he lightened up considerably. He gave his name as Araki and explained that the tattoos were “living scroll magic”.

“They’ve been bonded to my skin, but I can use them like scrolls.”

“Only once?”

Araki (Ptolus) - Monte Cook Games“It depends upon the quality – the deliblility – of the ink,” Araki explained.

“I would like to learn how to do that myself.”

“I’m not much of a teacher, young one.”

Tor, for his part, had spotted Sister Mara from the Imperial Church sitting at a table in the corner with a half dozen others. He headed in their direction and asked if he might join their table. Mara agreed, introducing the others as members of the Runewardens – a company of delvers that she had once belonged to before her duties with the Church had expanded. Tor got the distinct feeling that speaking of the Banewarrens in front of the Runewardens would be a bad idea, but he settled in for a few friendly drinks and listened to their tales of adventure.

About an hour after they had all settled into the comfortable affability of the common room, a man came bursting through the front door of the inn, gasping for breath. While Tellith was still trying to calm him down enough to speak, he was joined by two others, all bearing the same news: Tavern Row was in pandemonium.

More than a dozen Killravens, including some powerful arcanists, had descended on the Onyx Spider – a tavern well-known to be in the pocket of the Balacazars. The Balacazars, however, must have been waiting for them: A massive melee had broken out in the tavern’s common room. There were even reports that Malkeen Balacazar himself had been there. (When Elestra asked around a little later, she heard reports of a “man with a black maw” – which sounded terrifyingly like the void-mouthed man who had menaced them in the caverns below the Cliffs of Lost Wishes).

Apparently the Killravens had eventually been routed, but only after causing massive damage to the Onyx Spider. Now rumors were swirling that this was only the first strike in a massive gang war. People were worried that the entire city was going to be consumed in violence.

Tee and Elestra excused themselves and headed in the direction of the Onyx Spider. By the time they got there it was clear that the most recent rumors were greater than the reality: The attack had been severe and Tavern Row was filled with members of the city watch, but it was clear that there was no danger of additional violence here.

Peeking inside the Onyx Spider itself, they saw that the great crystal sphere containing a spider of black onyx had been cracked. Asking around they discovered that fifteen minutes before the attack, the watchmen who had been standing guard along the Row had suddenly disappeared. Tee suspected bribery, and that was certainly one of the stories going around. Another, and perhaps more worrisome one, was that the guards had been ordered off by the Commissar. Tee knew that the Commissar countenanced the Balacazars in an effort to avoid exactly this sort of open warfare in the streets, but she hated to think of him as being that far in their pocket.

While Elestra returned to the Ghostly Minstrel, Tee decided to take her thoughts and make a late night of it. She spent the next several hours trying to track down more information on the enigmatic Silion… but, in the end, she didn’t manage to turn anything up.

Tor, meanwhile, had also left the Minstrel. He wanted to reach the Siege Tower before the sun set so that he could see how the Necropolis was sealed at night. It was little more than an idle curiousity, however, and after watching the massive gates of the Siege Tower swing shut (which happened as the last rays of the sun faded from behind the Spire) he spoke with one of the Knights of the Veil about whether they might know anything about the location of Alchestrin’s Tomb.

The knight shook his head. “We are protectors of the Necropolis, not record-keepers. But if any of us might know, it would be the loremaster Sir Seppa.”

Tor waited while Sir Seppa was sought out, and found him to be an affable man of middle years. Seppa was unfamiliar with Alchestrin’s Tomb, but he was quite familiar with the pertinent records at the Administration Building and – if any record of its location was to be had – he was certain he could find it.

Tor was happy to hear it. He made arrangements to meet with Seppa at the Administration Building the next day.

A DRESS OF PALE BROWN

The next morning, as was her familiar custom, Tee arose a few hours before the others and went down to the common room to break her fast. While she picked at pieces of cold mutton, a young woman approached her table. She was a wiry thing — rather plain, and generally brown: tanned skin, light brown eyes, brown hair, and with a dress of pale brown.

“Is your name Tithenmamiwen?”

Tee nodded.

“My name is Nasira. I’ve been told that you were asking questions about a woman named Silion.”

Tee palmed a dagger.


CHARACTER BACKGROUND: NASIRA

Nasira is a young woman. A little taller than average, she’s also wiry thin, rather plain, and generally brown – tanned skin, light brown eyes, brown hair, and often dressed in simple clothing of brown or tan. Quite monochromatic. Around the eyes she has that particular look of worn determination that those who have gazed into the long, hard face of nature often have.

NASIRA’S YOUTH

It is said that the Southern Desert creeps further north with every passing moon. In some of the sandtales of the south it is said that one day Old Satha, the shadow of the desert, will leap where once she crept and then she’ll swallow up all the green lands and the sands shall blow from dune to dune unto the Furthest North and Old Satha will find Frissa Icewhiskers, the Love She Never Knew.

Those are just tales. But if there’s any truth to the histories which say that once the Arathian plains swept far south into what is now naught but desert, then the valley of Jathera stands as a testament to it. Nearly a hundred miles further south than the nearest Arathian settlement to the north, the long, crevassed valley of Jathera is an emerald treasure in the midst of barren dunes. Jathera’s fertile fields support a small village of a few hundred, with enough excess to send along in the seasonal trade caravans which also carry the ore from the silver mine north to the city-state of Tepal.

Nasira was born in Jathera. She was thought a serious and quiet child. She may have even been considered a bit odd, the way that she would keep sneaking out into the desert. Perhaps her father, Aaftab, should have taken her a bit more in hand, but with her mother gone (stolen by the fever when she was small – a woman she only had a few fragmentary memories of now)… well, they got along well and she was healthy and reasonably happy, so he kept her with him and let her do as she would.

Many years before she was born, Nasira’s grandfather had found – by chance – a life-size statue of solid mithril in the desert sands south of Jathera. The discovery had made him a wealthy man. He could have lived like a king for a year, but instead he bought one of the largest plantations in the valley and settled down.

Nasira’s grandfather had made a point of making a yearly pilgrimage into the desert, to offer proper thanks to the gods who had blessed him with his prosperity. Nasira’s father, perhaps inspired by these yearly pilgrimages, became fascinated by the ruins throughout the region.

These ruins were often covered by sand, but Nasira’s father had been born into wealth. And although he worked hard on the farm during the months of the harvest, the wealth gave him the freedom to spend large portions of the rest of the year wandering the desert sands and seeking out whatever ruins had been surfaced by the winds of the summer and the winter. He became known to the people of Jathera as “the Little Treasure Hunter”, a name he kept even after he had grown large with years.

Nasira spent little time in the village school, instead spending much of her youth with her father on his expeditions. There she met the Atapi for the first time – small bands of nomads who wandered the desert sands. The Jatherans were not welcoming of the Atapi and generally the reverse was true as well, but they accepted Nasira and her father. And while her father’s attentions were focused on ruins and artifacts, Nasira spent more and more time learning to ride and find water; sharing the stories of the Atapi when they were near and trying to befriend lizards and little desert mice when they weren’t.

COMING OF AGE IN TEPAL

When Nasira was twelve, her aunt Salla came to visit the family in Jathera. While Nasira’s father had used the inheritance to follow in his father’s footsteps, Salla had taken her share of the inheritance and moved to the city-state of Tepal. Salla was distressed by Nasira’s lackadaisical upbringing and “uncivilized” behavior. She eventually convinced Nasira’s father that it would be best if Nasira came back with her to Tepal to “continue the proper education for a young woman”.

Tepal, as the southernmost of the Arathian city-states, is often seen as the very edge of civilization. In fact, the trade route running between Tepal in the east and Nathia in the west is often drawn as the official border of both Arathia and the Five Empires (although several villages, like Jathera, are located further south).

Tepal is also one of the three coastal city-states in Arathia. Like Casalia and Ptolus, it’s perched atop the Arathian Cliffs and possesses no natural ports. Unlike those other cities, however, its coastal waters are wracked with reefs and functionally unnavigable by larger vessels. As a result, no artificial ports (like the docks in Ptolus or the sea cranes of Casalia) were ever constructed. However, several paths leading through the sandstone caverns beneath the city make it possible for the city-state’s fishing fleet to sail out into the Southern Sea and return.

In short, Tepal may be the poorest and perhaps smallest of the Arathian city-states. But for Nasira, it was wealthy and large almost beyond imagination.

THE CHURCH OF THE TWIN SISTERS

At this time, a religious fervor was gripping Tepal in the form of the Reformist Church of the Twin Sisters. What had begun as a populist wave of mass conversion had reached through the Trade Circle and into the Circle of Princes. Salla had been an early convert of the church, and she was able to use her connections to get Nasira enrolled in the tutelage program at the Temple of the Sun and the Sea.

The Temple of the Sun and the Sea was built on (and over) the edge of the Arathian Cliffs. The Lower Temple of the Sea was crafted from ocean sandstone, its beautiful blue swells welcoming the ocean waves into the artificial tidal pool maintained in its sanctuary.

Ocean sandstone is a rare, beautiful, and expensive stone quarried from the sea floor itself. The stone is a pale blue in color, with delicate bands of darker color running through it in soft, undulating curves. Alchemists claim that the stone is the result of an “elemental infusion” – the stone’s proximity to water literally grants it some affinity to the water’s elemental properties. When viewed through water, ocean sandstone seems to flow before the eyes with the movement of the water itself. This effect is particularly pronounced beneath dim lights.

The Upper Temple of the Sun was built on the edge of the cliffs within Tepal itself. In a massive, magically-assisted construction, the two temples were connected by the beautiful, fluted Stair of a Thousand Penances. Echoing the stairs below, a fluted crystalline spire extended from the top of the temple to catch Sayl’s Light at First Dawning.

Nasira spent the next several years in the temple. She did fairly well in its tutelage, being quiet and studious and therefore seen as obedient, which is better than being brilliant. But she was never very happy there. She liked the quiet, contemplative aspects of the training – the prayer times and the music lessons – but she missed her father and the desert and she found the other girls to be noisy and shallow (although she might have liked them better if they hadn’t spent quite so much time teasing her about being “plain as a sparrow and twice as dull”).

THE TENETS OF THE CHURCH

As they came of age, most of the girls left to get married or return to their former lives. But Nasira had no desire to do either and decided to stay and become a cleric. She was encouraged in this by Sister Tarathara, who had taken a liking to her and offered to become a mentor.

The Twin Sisters: The church worshipped Sarathyn (the Virgin Goddess of the Sea) and Sayl (Sun Goddess of Life and Sexuality). Its teachings were rooted in the dualities personified by the goddesses.

The Divine Daughters: The hierarchy of the Church of the Twin Sisters, known as the Divine Daughters, was matriarchal, reflecting the church’s teaching that the heart of humanity lies in feminine love.

The Duality of Love: Feminine love, in turn, is expressed through the twin dualities of the Sisters: Chastity as personified in the cold depths of Sarathyn’s sea; sexuality as felt in the hot rays of Sayl’s passion.

The Chain of Wombs: The tension within the duality of love is the imbalance from which all sentient life is given birth; the tension is embodied in the woman’s womb; and all life is connected through a great “chain of wombs”. The chain of wombs, of course, can be expressed genealogically through the matrilineal line, and the church believes that the patterns of life can be horoscopically cast through an analysis of the chain. (However, this is not merely a hereditary analysis; the harmonics of the chain exceed the merely familial and are affected by the patterns of your friends and associates).

The Wolf and the Dolphin: Just as the tension of the duality of love becomes the wellspring of the womb, so the tension held in the “goddess chain” is the source of civilization and society. The knitted weave of the chain is seen to pass through shadow and light. Within the shadow it is the hunger of the wolf (the patron animal of Sayl); and in the light it possesses the scintillant grace of the dolphin (the patron animal of Sarathyn).

RETURN TO JATHERA

In 785 YD, Sister Tarathara came to Nasira. Tarathara had been selected as one of the church’s preachers, to go forth and spread the church’s teachings beyond the walls of Tepal. She was to build a chapel in Jathera and she wanted Nasira, as a native of the place, to come with her.

Later that year, Nasira returned to Jathera.

The teachings of the Church of the Twin Sisters were met with some resistance (and occasionally outright hostility) from the people of Jathera (who, in their isolation, had remained almost universally stout followers of the Imperial Church).

Despite this, these were happy years for Nasira. She had not seen her father in years, and now she was often able to journey with him back into her beloved desert and renew her friendship with the Atapi. Time passed in peaceful, hard, and satisfying work.

THE FALL OF JATHERA

In 788 YD, a traveling scholar came to Jathera. His name was Wuntad. Sister Tarathara allowed him to room in the chapel, and it quickly became clear to Nasira that the two of them shared an old friendship. Often they would be up late into the night talking over Wuntad’s dusty parchments and tomes.

Nasira paid it little mind. What did it matter to her that Tarathara had an old friend to talk with? She had many. And, besides, she was busy with other affairs.

However, when Wuntad learned that Nasira’s father had spent years studying the Atapi he asked Nasira to instroduce them. Apparently it was lore of the Atapi that had brought him to Jathera, and he was eager to meet another loremaster of a similar bent.

At first Nasira’s father shared Wuntad’s enthusiasm. But over time he began to view Wuntad’s… fervor with deeper and deeper suspicion. He spoke to Nasira about his concerns, but she thought little of them. If her father didn’t want to work with Wuntad, then he should simply stop speaking with him, no matter how insistent he might become.

Nasira was also distracted by other concerns: She had decided to share her faith with the Atapi and was now working diligently to teach them the Words of the Twin Sisters. For the most part, the Atapi met her efforts with bemusement, but she was often travelling into the desert with supplies and fresh teachings.

In Taranal 789 YD, however, Nasira saw Jathera for the last time. She journeyed into the desert… and when she returned her life was changed forever.

During her absence, a large group of outsiders had arrived in town. Wuntad had led them in an assault on her father’s villa. Many of the other villagers had rallied to her father’s aid, but this only served to turn Wuntad’s wrath upon a village as a whole. Dozens – including her father – had been slaughtered. But Wuntad’s wrath had not been sated by the slaughter: He destroyed the great crystalline sphere whose magic had long protected the valley. Already the verdant fields of her youth were wilting beneath the unforgiving rays of Sayl and the blowing sands of the desert were seeking to reclaim their own.

Worse yet, Nasira discovered that Tarathara had been complicit in the attack. She had aided Wuntad in his slaughter and left the village when it was complete.

THE LONG AND LONELY ROAD

Nasira’s faith in the Church was broken and she fled into the desert, trying to escape the guilt of surviving… and for not realizing that anything was wrong with her mentor or her strange friend.

For many months she stayed with the Atapi, thinking that she could lose herself in their way of life. But, in time, she realized that she was following a false path. Her faith in the Church may have been broken by Tarathara’s betrayal, but not her faith in her gods. And she also discovered the deep, burning desire to learn the truth of what had happened. Who was Wuntad? What was he trying to accomplish that was worth the blood he had shed?

She left the Atapi and returned to Tepal. She had no leads on Wuntad himself, but she began the long and arduous process of retracing Tarathara’s past.

What she discovered was terrifying: Both Wuntad and Tarathara belonged to chaos cultists dedicated to the Lords of Chaos and the sowing of destruction and anarchy. She eventually succeeded in tracking Tarathara to Ptolus, who she hoped would lead her in turn to Wuntad and her revenge…

Running the Campaign: Adding a New Player (Part 2) Campaign Journal: Session 38C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

Two criminals planning a heist, surrounded by maps and miniatures.

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 38A: The Arathian Job

Once Agnarr’s tail-lopping duties were completed, they loaded the various ratmen corpses – along with the Iron Mage’s crate – into the cart Elestra had procured and started the long haul up the Dock ramp.

As they went, they mulled the question of how they could protect the Iron Mage’s crate. It was too large and too dangerous for them to haul around with them, and it certainly wasn’t the sort of thing they could just leave lying about their room.

They rejected a plan to place illusions on the ratbrute corpses to make them appear like duplicates of the real crate before dumping them in the Midden Heaps or scattering them around town. They felt it was a ruse too easily penetrated… and once the illusions lapsed the corpses might lead to some unwanted questions on their own account.

“Besides,” Tor pointed out. “I promised to dispose of them properly.”

What the players decided to call the Arathian Job (it’s like The Italian Job, but we’re in Arathia!) isn’t the classic image of what a heist looks like, but it has the same attitude: Planning, prep work, execution.

And as you look at the Arathian Job as a heist, you might find it remarkable that it just… works. The players simply put together their plan and executed it.

If you look back at Session 8, when the PCs were hired to sneak a scrying cube into Linech Cran’s office, you’ll see a similar dynamic:

Once there, Tee went down the narrow alley between the Yebures’ and the house next door. From there she climbed quietly onto the Yebures’ roof. She had some difficulty climbing the next section of wall up to Linech’s window – falling and cracking her head once – but she eventually secured a grappling hook in the chimney on Linech’s roof, climbed the rope, and then rappelled over to Linech’s window.

The lock on Linech’s window yielded to her thieves’ tools easily enough and she slipped inside, falling to the floor next to the life-size gold statue they had noticed the last time they were in the office.

In looking for a place to hide the scrying cube, Tee’s eyes were naturally drawn to the bookshelves along the room’s north wall. Clearing some of the books away she reached back to place the scrying cube behind them… only to find a crumpled up sheet of paper lying there. She pulled this out, glanced at it, and then stuffed it into her bag. Placing the scrying cube and then carefully replacing the books she had moved, she went back to the window, shut it behind her, and climbed down.

Tee gave the signal that the others, scattered around the lower burrow, could disperse. It had all gone as smoothly as anyone could hope.

They’d done their legwork, come up with a plan that worked, made their skill checks, and walked away clean.

It can be tempting, as a GM, to think that if we don’t make things hard for the PCs or complicated in some way that the game will be “boring.” That might be true if every challenge is trivial and the PCs simply streamroll their way through the campaign, but the reality is that coming up with a strategic plan, executing it, and having it work is immensely satisfying.

Hannibal from A-Team.

So when the players earn a victory, let them bask in it.

These successes also create great contrast for when things DO fall part. You can see a very clear example of this in the case of the Linech Cran job because in Session 9 the PCs had to come back and break into his office all over again, this time to steal the gold statue he had on display there. This time there were new complications (someone else was trying to break into the office at the same time), and the PCs ended up flubbing one of their skill checks and dropping the statue, creating a loud noise that raised the alarm and created even more complications. The PCs were still ultimately successful, but it was a much more stressful heist.

The great thing about this contrast is — if you’re playing fair — then the players truly feel like they earned their victories (because they did), which makes them even sweeter. And the players also own their struggles and even failures: There’s no reason the second Linech Cran job couldn’t have gone smoothly. (The first job proves it, after all.) The complications they need to overcome (like dropping the statue) feel legitimate, partly because they are and partly because they’ve seen the proof of that. That legitimacy keeps the players immersed in the scenario, and also makes their ultimate success (assuming they achieve it) all the more satisfying because they earned it.

By contrast, when the players become convinced that they can never truly succeed because the GM will always find some way to thwart their best laid plans (whether in the name of “making things interesting” or otherwise), it steals the luster of the campaign. It’s the reason some players don’t enjoy making plans; after all, what’s the point when every plan is doomed to failure whether it’s good or bad? And other players will respond by spending even more time making plans in a Sisyphean and ultimately doomed effort to make them perfect. (And this, too, becomes a reason why players don’t enjoy making plans.)

The same thing is even more, in my experience, if the players becomes convinced that they can never fail because the GM will always twist things to make sure they succeed. Again: Why bother making plans if making the plan has no meaningful impact on the outcome?

And what happens as a result is that the tactical and strategic elements of the game become deeply weakened: Figuring out what you need to do and then doing it is in fun in games, it’s fun in life, and it should be fun in an RPG.

When that thrill gets pulled out of your roleplaying game, it’s a sad loss.

Campaign Journal: Session 38BRunning the Campaign: Adding a New Player (Part 2)
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire
IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 38A: THE ARATHIAN JOB

June 7th, 2009
The 21st Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Crates

The commotion had inevitably attracted the attention of the Watch. A small squad of them cautiously approached the end of the dock. Agnarr, busily chopping off ratmen tails, glanced up. “It’s about time you got here.”

Fortunately, several members of the Watch recognized Sir Tor. Tor, humble yet quietly quite pleased with the recognition, took advantage of the situation. Offering a brief (and well-edited) accounting of the situation, Tor offered to dispose of the bodies. The watchmen were delighted to have this unpleasant duty taken off their hands. They quickly pointed them in the direction of the Midden Heaps (“that’s where we dump all the bodies”), waved their goodbyes, and headed on their way.

Once Agnarr’s tail-lopping duties were completed, they loaded the various ratmen corpses – along with the Iron Mage’s crate – into the cart Elestra had procured and started the long haul up the Dock ramp.

As they went, they mulled the question of how they could protect the Iron Mage’s crate. It was too large and too dangerous for them to haul around with them, and it certainly wasn’t the sort of thing they could just leave lying about their room.

They rejected a plan to place illusions on the ratbrute corpses to make them appear like duplicates of the real crate before dumping them in the Midden Heaps or scattering them around town. They felt it was a ruse too easily penetrated… and once the illusions lapsed the corpses might lead to some unwanted questions on their own account.

“Besides,” Tor pointed out. “I promised to dispose of them properly.”

This plan, however, spawned another and they quickly sketched out a scheme for protecting the crate through a combination of both security and obfuscation. While the rest of them stuck with the slow-moving cart, Ranthir and Elestra hurried ahead into the city.

Ranthir went to the Exotic Market, which specialized in one-of-a-kind items, strange livestock, miscellaneous magical trinkets, alchemical compounds, magical reagents, and the like. Amid its odd jumble of small wooden stalls and tents, he was able to find – as he had hoped he might – someone who could sell him five identical lead-lined crates. The lead-lining, as Ranthir had explained to the others, would block even the emanations of the powerful magical aura exuded from whatever artifact was hidden within the stygian darkness of the Iron Mage’s crate.

Elestra, meanwhile, headed to the Stockyards and hired five identical (or, at least, near-identical) carts. She had them driven to the Exotic Market, where Ranthir directed the loading of one crate into each of the carts. Then all five carts were driven back to meet the rest of the party at the Midden Heaps.

There they found Tee and Tor in a frustrated negotiation with the scrap merchants who ran the Midden Heaps. Apparently there wasn’t any profit to be had in scrapping bodies (“these don’t even have their tails!”), and the scrap merchants were inclined to either refuse the bodies entirely or charge a hefty fee for their dumping.

Eventually they talked their way to Delloch, an ornery dwarf who apparently ran the Heaps. Although he grumbled about “having enough ratmen running live about these Heaps”, they managed to talk him down to a reasonable fee and were able to dump the bodies, according to his directions, deep in the Heaps (making their way between and over heaping piles of slag, scoria, scrap iron, and other guildcraft chaff).

Then they were able to turn their attention to their more immediate and important affairs: Removing the outer crate they had placed over the Iron Mage’s original crate, they plunged the street near the entrance of the Midden Heaps into darkness. Under the convenient cover of this darkness, they placed the original crate into one of the five lead-lined crates. Ranthir also took the opportunity to create additional illusionary doubles of the crates, carts, and themselves. Then they sealed up all 5 crates (disguising the identity of the actual crate), dismissed the cart drivers, and clambered aboard the carts themselves.

And off they went.

THE ARATHIAN JOB

Their first stop was the Foundry. The elaborate caravan they had constructed pulled up across the street. Ranthir led (and directed) illusionary versions of Agnarr and Tor to the front door and oversaw the delivery of an illusionary crate into the front hall.

“What will they do when they find that its disappeared?” Elestra asked.

“Well, nobody is expecting it. So they might not miss it at all,” Tee said.

Their plan was to put some of the crates where they might not be found; some of the crates where they might force a confrontation between their enemies; and some of the crates with their most powerful allies. They felt a little guilty about potentially putting their friends at risk for the sake of an empty crate, so they were careful to only approach those they felt could handle the cultists and ratmen.

They left the Foundry and headed north into the Temple District. They weren’t sure if they should count the Church among their enemies or their allies, but it seemed like a good place for ensconcing a crate. Tor spoke to Sir Gemmell, who readily agreed to keeping the crate in a locked room on the third floor of the Godskeep (one of the rooms recently vacated by the knights relocating to the Holy Palace).

They were worried that anyone spying on them might notice that the crates were empty, so they decided to make sure that they pretended there was something heavy in them. This actually proved an unwarranted worry: When Tor and Agnarr tried to lift the heavy, lead-lined crate they found it almost impossible and eventually needed to get help.

Next was Greyson House, where they took an illusionary crate into the basement and “hid” it among the other crates in the basement. (In reality, Ranthir simply let the illusion drop away after they had reached the basement.) Then they crossed the bridge into Oldtown and headed towards the apartment complex above the Temple of Deep Chaos where an illusionary Ranthir levitated an empty crate into one of the rooms on the ground floor. Ranthir grinned at Tor and Agnarr. “I don’t know why you’re having so much difficulty moving them.”

As they dropped off the crates, the empty carts would peel away from the caravan – some disappearing a few blocks away as they exceeded the range of Ranthir’s spell, others being driven back to the market.

Staying in Oldtown they went to the Pale Tower and spoke with the Graven One. He agreed to keep a watch over a crate and easily heaved it out of the cart with one hand. (Tor and Agnarr reflected on the basic unfairness of the universe.)

Once they were safely through the Tower’s doors, they confided in the Graven One, telling him that the crate was empty. He nodded his understanding. “We will keep it safe. What is in it – or not in it – is of little consequence.”

Their impromptu caravan had some difficulty passing through the Dalengard, but once they had identified themselves and given Castle Shard as their destination the gates to the Nobles’ Quarter were quickly opened to them.

Tor had been thinking. “What do we really know about the Iron Mage?”

“Not much.,” Tee said. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just wondering if we should really be doing this,” Tor said. “For all we know, we’re working for the bad guys.”

“If it turns out that the Iron Mage is just going to give it to Wuntad, I’m going to kill somebody,” Tee said.

They decided that was unlikely. Why would he tell Silion to steal the crate if the Iron Mage was going to deliver it to him? (“Maybe he didn’t want to pay him,” Elestra suggested.)

“Maybe you knew him before?” Tor suggested.

“You mean before we lost our memories?”

“Yes,” Tor said. “Why else would he keep coming to you with a list of chores?”

“Maybe,” Ranthir said.

“Or maybe that’s just the Iron Mage,” Tee said.

On the other hand, maybe not. They ran through a list of people the Iron Mage might be: Wuntad. Zavere. The Surgeon in the Shadows. The Banelord. The mysterious Ritharius. Or all of the above. Or some combination thereof.

They hadn’t reached any sort of a conclusion by the time they reached Castle Shard. Kadmus, of course, was waiting for them. He easily hefted one of the crates in one hand and carried it across the drawbridge. (Tor and Agnarr groaned.)

Zavere greeted them with a friendly smile. They had decided to leave the real crate with Zavere and, for that reason, not to hide anything from him. They explained everything that had happened and Zavere readily agreed to keep the crate safe.

They thanked him and left. There were only a few of the crates and carts left now. They hired a messenger to anonymously deliver one of them to the front gate of the Balacazar’s mansion and then they headed back down into Oldtown.

There the illusionary remnants of their caravan split apart in a final effort to lose and confuse any potential spies. Ranthir led the illusionary remains down into the Guildsmans’ District where they winked out one by one. Meanwhile, Tor and Tee drove the last of the real carts to the Hammersong Vaults. There they rented a vault for a month and placed an empty crate inside.

The Arathian Job was done.

Running the Campaign: Heists That Just Work Campaign Journal: Session 38B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

Screenshot from the Roll20 virtual tabletop, featuring a map from Mephits & Magmin by Justin Alexander

Go to Part 1

MAPPING & VTTs

Player mapping doesn’t require running a dungeon strictly in the theater of the mind.

There are a few different ways that you can present players a map on your virtual tabletop (VTT), and each will have its own impact on player mapping.

(Although I’m going to focus on virtual tabletops, a lot of this advice will also apply to dry-erase battlemaps, Dwarven Forge terrain, and similar tabletop techniques. Of course, you could also eschew the mapping capabilities of the VTT entirely and run everything — combat and exploration alike — using the theater of the mind via voice chat.)

First, you might have a dungeon map which remains completely visible as the PCs explore it. If players have access to the entire map, of course, it obviates the need for mapping. (Depending on your platform, and how you have your campaign configured, they may even be able to access the map between sessions.) You’ll obviously lose some of the value of player mapping here, but the arguably primary value of providing navigational information so that the players can make meaningful choices in their exploration obviously remains.

One interesting thing to note, however, is that it’s still possible to treat the VTT map as a physical artifact in the game world. In other words, the players till need to designate a PC as the “mapper” and if something were to happen to the map — stolen, damaged, left behind when the mapper dies — the GM can simply re-establish the fog of war and leave the PCs lost in the middle of the dungeon.

(This will be most effective if you don’t treat it as a “gotcha,” though. Establish who the mapper is and what that means ahead of time.)

Alternatively, you can preserve player mapping by setting up your fog of war so that the players can only see the section of the map that their PCs are currently looking at. If you want anything more than that, then you, just like your character, will need to draw a map.

Another way of keeping player mapping while using a VTT is to only show the map during battles. Effectively you’re “zooming in” on the various battlemaps, but the connections between those battle sites are still something that the mapper will need to keep track of.

For something completely different, you might present no map at all and instead have the player mapper draw their map directly in the VTT as the “official” map that everyone is interacting with. (Your VTT platform might support this, or you might accomplish it by screensharing something like Dungeon Scrawl or Mipui.)

This creates an interesting and collaborative spirit when it comes to the player mapping of the dungeon, since everyone, to at least a certain extent, “owns” the map and is directly interacting with its creation. There is also a unity of experience, with all the players interacting directly with and thinking about the map.

The trick to making this work, however, is that the whole group really has to be onboard with the idea that “the map is not the territory,” particularly when it comes to combat. Remember that, just like other player maps, this player map will not be hyper-precise. So if they draw the room as twenty feet wide, but it’s “actually” thirty feet wide… what happens when you start moving miniatures around that space?

One option is to just accept that the battlemap is always abstracted and as long as the player map isn’t radically wrong, you can just roll with it. Another is for the GM to keep track of what’s “really” going on in terms of spatial relationships, but that can get pretty tripped and dissociated very easily.

An alternative would be to swap to a “zoomed in” battlemap, as described above, whenever combat breaks out. But it’s important to recognize that, although these problems are probably most egregious during combat, they can be omnipresent if the players aren’t onboard with what’s going on.

The common conceit of the VTT is that the map IS the territory: What you’re seeing on the screen, like what you see when playing a video game, is what’s “really” happening in the game. But if we’re using a player map and the player map isn’t necessarily reliable, it can create cognitive dissonance.

For example, what if the players get turned around and start looping through hallways they’ve already been in without realizing they’ve already been there? On this unreliable VTT they’re going to see what their characters THINK they’re seeing, and that can be incredibly immersive! But it can also feel like a cheat or a betrayal or some kind of cheap shot if the players haven’t embraced the unusual conceit.

One of the interesting things about VTTs is that they’re still an incredibly new tool, and we’ve really only scratched the surface of all the things they’re capable of. In particular, most VTTs are still just trying to mimic the tabletop experience as accurately as possible, which means there’s been barely any exploration of the unique styles and modes of play they might make possible.

That’s incredibly exciting! But if you want to take your players with you into uncharted waters, it’s a good idea to make sure they all want to embark on the journey!

Young asian woman drawing a map while playing a roleplaying game. POV of the game master watching from behind their screen.

Go to Part 1

DUNGEON MASTER BEST PRACTICES

I gave up on player mapping — particularly player mapping from theater of the mind — in the ‘90s, for all the reasons we’ve discussed: The pace-killing metagame complexity of clearly communicating oddly-shaped rooms and passages, which in turn encourages the design of “standard” floorplans (simple, rectangular rooms and straight corridors aligned to the compass points) which ironically undermine the very type of gameplay that player mapping is supposed to be leveraging.

Around 2009, however, I came back to player mapping. The best practices I describe below are not necessarily a “one true way” for handling player mapping (and you should feel encouraged to experiment and find what works for you and your group), but over the past decade and a half while running games for dozens of different groups, they’re not only what I’ve found makes player mapping work; they’re what I’ve found makes player mapping thrive as a unique and valuable part of the game.

First, if they choose not to map, that’s OK. It’s their choice. You’re not their nanny.

What’s important is that, if they choose not to make map, you don’t help them out. Don’t say stuff like, “Well, you can easily find your way back to the chamber with the giant ankh.” Instead, say, “Okay, you want to go back to the chamber with the giant ankh… which way do you go?”

In other words, if you want navigational information (in the form of the map) to have value, you need to actually let them navigate.

After they get lost trying to backtrack a couple times, they’ll figure it out. Or they’ll come up with some other scheme, like marking the walls with chalk or trying to leave a breadcrumb trail. Or maybe it’ll turn out one of them is a savant who can memorize the whole dungeon without a map at all. That’s all great: The point of player mapping isn’t producing the physical artifact; it’s to have the players engage deeply with a scenario by making interesting navigational choices.

With that being said, there are ways to prompt the idea of mapping to players who may not realize that it’s an option:

  • The 1974 edition of D&D does it by including mapping equipment in the equipment list and having mechanical structures for mapping (e.g., a rule that you can’t map when fleeing from combat).
  • Put a pad of graph paper on the table next to the pencils and dice as a resource for the players to use.
  • Give the players a partial map of the dungeon as a prop. For example, they might find the map in the pack of a dead adventurer, thus (a) establishing that mapping is something adventurers do, (b) showing that the information on the map is useful, and (c) giving them the opportunity to begin mapping by just continuing to draw on the partial map.
  • Just tell the new players, “Mapping the dungeon is something a lot of adventurers do.”

Everything else is about how you can clearly and effectively communicate the dungeon environment to the players. (This is, of course, good praxis even if the players aren’t mapping: The players have to be able to understand the game world and what’s happening around their characters if they’re going to roleplay.)

Describe things from the character’s POV. So rather than using compass directions, for example, I’ll say things like, “straight ahead,” “the door on the left,” or “the corridor angles to the right.” In my experience, this is more immersive for the players (since it encourages them to visualize the world from the perspective of their characters instead of some sort of “top-down” GPS signal) and also creates a challenge for the mapper, who will need to maintain proper orientation. (Or invest in a tool like a compass to help them do so.)

Use imprecise measurements when describing the dungeon. Instead of “the hallway is thirty feet long,” I’ll say stuff like:

  • “You go twenty or thirty feet down the corridor.”
  • “The hall goes for thirty, maybe thirty-five feet before ending in a stairway down.”

The same thing goes for rooms: It’s a chamber a couple dozen feet across or a room that’s about twenty feet wide and a little longer than that.

You might even drop measurements entirely; for example, “You go down the corridor a bit and then…” In my experience, though, this almost always prompts the mapper to ask, “How far is a bit?” and you’ll end up defaulting back to, “Maybe twenty or thirty feet.” This back-and-forth is a time-waster, so you’re probably better off cutting to the chase. (But your mileage may vary.)

By featuring imprecision in your descriptions, the players implicitly get the message that they shouldn’t sweat the details of the map: They don’t need to worry about making the map perfect because they CAN’T make the map perfect… unless they need to make the map perfect.

If the players want something more precise than a rough estimate of distance, then they will need to seek precision in character. If they want to know exactly how long a hallway is, then they need to explain how their character is taking that measurement.

In a dungeon environment, this should almost always come with a cost, usually either in equipment (e.g., expensive surveying equipment that also chews up encumbrance slots), time (e.g., in the form of additional random encounter checks or a progress clock being ticked), or both. The important dynamic here is that if the players want more precision in their map (for whatever reason), then they need to choose to pay the cost and have their characters actually perform the required actions. It turns a metagame distraction into a meaningful part of the narrative, while also making sure that this additional focus and time is generally only expended when there’s a reason to do it and also heightened player interest in the results.

You will likely find it useful to have a formal procedure for this (e.g., getting precise measurements for a single room or a 60-foot length of corridor requires one dungeon turn; or twice that if they don’t have the proper tools). It might involve a skill check, but that’s probably not necessary. You can, of course, adjust this procedure depending on exactly what resources and methods the PCs bring to bear on the problem.

Note: Just like when you’re running traps, there’ll be situations where there is no meaningful cost (and the PCs know it). For example, maybe the PCs have cleared out all the monsters in the dungeon and now they want to take their time double-checking everything. When that happens, it’s okay to sort of “zoom out” and rapidly resolve their survey at a broad scale. (What you have here is an example of empty time — a period devoid of meaningful choices — and you want to resolve it quickly and move forward to the next set of interesting choices.)

Of course, if the PCs only THINK they’ve cleared out all the monsters, you can just apply the normal cost while they’re blithely whittering their way around the dungeon.

When the players take precise measurements, don’t hesitate to just draw out the area for them. I’ll sometimes keep a pad of graph paper on hand specifically for this. In other cases, I’ll just draw it directly on their map. No need to fuss about here: They put in the work to get precision, so give it to them in whatever way works best.

Even during normal exploration, if the players are struggling with a weird-shaped room or anything of that ilk, you can quickly clarify things with a quick sketch of the room shape and hand it to them. When I was running Dave Arneson’s Castle Blackmoor, for example, the primary entry chamber was so gloriously byzantine in its design that I had a small sketch of the room’s shape paperclipped to my maps:

Hand-sketched map of the entry chamber of Castle Blackmoor, featuring doors A-I + 0, staircase, and a polygonal room with twenty-three irregular walls.

Whenever a new set of players would venture into the dungeon, I would just hold up the sketch.

On the other hand, don’t feel like every inaccuracy you see on the players’ map is a problem you need to solve for them. My general rule of thumb is that, as long as it’s a mistake that a character standing there could make, I’m not going to intervene. But if they are making an error that their characters definitely wouldn’t make, just use a visual reference to clear it up. The goal here is not some sort of stringent purity test where you adamantly refuse to use any sort of visual reference.

To help avoid confusion in the first place, make room dimensions the first thing you describe. These can be general (“it’s a wide, long hall with a vaulted ceiling” or “beyond the door is a small office”) or numeric (“you see a square room about twenty-five or thirty feet across ”), but by leading with the room dimensions and shape you’re creating a “canvas” that both the mapper and the other players can “paint” the rest of the room description on.

Note: As noted above, if you don’t give numeric dimensions, you may find that the mapper is always going to ask for them. I tend to default to just including them, but this can vary quite a bit on your group and your mapper.

After establishing the “canvas” of the room, make exits/entrances either the first thing or the last thing in the room description. This essential navigational information is the backbone of the dungeon adventure, and by making them essentially the first or last thing in the room description you make it much less likely that the players will lose track of where they can go. (Remember that the structure of a dungeoncrawl ultimately boils down to: Do stuff in a room until you run out of stuff to do, then pick an exit and go through it to find another room.)

Finally, pay attention to common descriptive phrases that confuse your players and then figure out a way to describe those things in a way that ISN’T confusing.

For example, I’ve found that “there’s a thirty-foot hallway with two doors at the end of it” creates confusion, so I make a point of saying either, “There’s a thirty-foot hallway with two doors facing you at the end of it,” or, “There’s a thirty-foot hallway with two doors facing each other at the end of it.”

Which phrases are common will depend on your own descriptive habits, and which ones are confusing (or clear!) will depend on your group. Which is why this ultimately boils down to being aware of when things go awry, and then making a mental note of how you can avoid that friction in the future.

Next: Mapping and VTTs

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