A player scratching out a map of the dungeon on graph paper as their DM describes the winding corridors and strange labyrinths their character is exploring is a tradition which predates Dungeons & Dragons itself. It’s become almost habitual; passed down from one generation of gamer to the next: We’re entering the dungeon, so who’s going to be the mapper?

But like a lot of unexamined traditions, there comes a point where you stop and say, “Wait a minute. Why am I doing this?!”

Theater of the mind was supplemented by Chessex battlemaps and Dwarven Forge terrain, and now we live in an era of shiny virtual tabletops with infinite scrolling maps. Player mapping used to be fairly ubiquitous in video games, too, but it’s been almost entirely eliminated there: replaced with mini-maps, quest markers, and fast travel. Why not get rid of it in tabletop gaming, too?

There are can definitely be costs to player-mapping. In some campaigns, in fact, the cost can be quite substantial: The GM repeating room dimensions. The group waiting for the mapper to finish. Confused Q&A sessions between the GM and the mapper as they try to clarify exactly what an odd-shaped room looks like or the precise angle of a hallway. All of this drags down the pace of play and distracts the group from all the other cool stuff — combat, exploration, roleplaying — that’s happening in the dungeon.

So what are we doing here, exactly?

WHY PLAYER MAPPING?

The first thing to understand is that player mapping is only worthwhile if navigational knowledge has value.

In many modern D&D scenarios, it doesn’t: The dungeon isn’t dynamic, it’s overly linear, and/or the goal of the adventure is “kill all the bad guys.” Plus, the adventure is often balanced so that the PCs can wrap up the whole dungeon in a single long rest. So the PCs’ navigational choices don’t actually matter: Even if there are multiple meaningful paths through the dungeon, the choice of path is essentially irrelevant because the PCs ultimately need to kick down every door and clear every room.

Since their navigational choices don’t actually matter, why would the players waste time on making a map?

Maybe there’s some marginal value in “detecting a secret door leading to a bunch of a treasure we otherwise would have missed” (which is why this is so often discussed these days as the reason for player mapping), but it’s an extremely marginal value. Hard to justify all the rigamarole for that one time in twenty that you manage to suss out a secret room you otherwise would have missed.

(And, frankly, a lot of DMs are just going to fudge the Search check to find the secret door anyway. We wouldn’t want the players to miss any of our carefully crafted content, right?)

So when players say that mapping is pointless, that’s not really surprising. It’s quite possible they’ve literally never played a scenario where mapping provided a benefit.

Somewhere towards the other extreme, however, is the Arnesonian megadungeon: The PCs are going to be going down into the dungeon repeatedly and the layout of the dungeon is heavily xandered, so the navigational information from previous expeditions lets you plan your next expedition. The dungeon is also extremely dynamic, with monsters being restocked and aggressive, even punitive random encounter pacing. In that environment, navigational efficiency is of paramount importance: A good map is literally the difference between success and a failure; a big payday and abject failure; life and death.

(This is not to say that you need a megadungeon for mapping to be relevant. It’s just one example of a dungeon scenario in which the PCs will profit from having a good map.)

Furthermore, when mapping is motivated and rewarded, it turns out there are a few other benefits to player mapping.

First, it ensures a clarity of communication. While it’s possible for mapping to bog down play because the player is seeking an unnecessary amount of persnickety detail (more on that later), it’s much more likely in my experience for the map to become problematic because the player fundamentally doesn’t understand the GM’s description of the game world.

The key thing to understand here is that this needs to be fixed whether the player is mapping or not: If they can’t even figure out where the exits from a room are, for example, then there’s a fundamental mismatch between the GM’s understanding of the game world and the players’ understanding of the game world, and that’s going to cause problems no matter what. When this is happening, the player’s map actually provides valuable verification that the GM’s descriptions are being clearly understood and can help quickly clear up misunderstanding when they do arise.

Second, map-making is a form of note-taking, and like all note-taking it aids memory and understanding. It locks in the events of a session and provides a reference that the whole group can look back on in future sessions to remind themselves of what happened.

Finally, drawing a map can be a very immersive way of interacting with the game world. It’s like how a good horror movie will force the audience to engage in an act of closure by imagining the horrific things which the movie only suggests to them. Because the audience is creatively filling in the gaps for themselves, the result can be more vivid, personal, and emotionally engaging than if you just showed them the monster.

Getting the player to engage in a similar act of closure at the game table — where they, themselves, are ultimately completing the picture of the game world in their own mind — will similarly immerse them into the setting. Player mapping achieves this because it implicitly involves them thinking about what lies beyond the edge of their current map as they try to figure out where they should go next and how the different pieces of the dungeon might link together.

The excitement that generates is one part puzzle-solving, one part reward, and one part being drawn into the fictional reality of the game world. The example of realizing that there must be a secret chamber right here is just one very specific example of what this looks like.

PLAYER BEST PRACTICES

First: Do you need a map?

If you’re a dungeon delver, only make a map if you feel like you’re getting value from it. There are plenty of smaller dungeons and dungeon-like environments where you won’t need a map. (On the other hand, if you’re having fun making the map, then have fun! That’s reason enough.)

Second: Focus on functionality over trying to capture the precise measurements and angles of the dungeon.

In fact, in many cases, you don’t need measurements at all. You can get most or all of the benefits of mapping from a simple network map: Just draw a circle for each room and then draw lines showing how it connects to other rooms.

This doesn’t mean you need to give up on the graph paper entirely, of course. It just means recognizing that most of the time the difference between a hallway that’s twenty-five feet long and a hallway that’s thirty feet long just isn’t important.

Of course, there may be times when you actually need that type of precision. (For example, you might suspect that there’s a secret room hidden somewhere in the haunted house and you want to figure out where it might be.) When that happens, make a point of seeking that precision in character: What is your character actually doing to get the precise measurement that you want?

Third: Map in pencil.

You’re going to make mistakes. As you explore and revisit sections of the dungeon, your knowledge of how everything fits together will grow over time. You’ll want to be able to easily adjust your maps to make all the pieces fit together.

Fourth: Let the GM see your map.

If the GM can easily see your map — e.g., it’s sitting on the table in front of you — it will let them quickly notice errors and give you the necessary corrections.

Don’t expect the GM to fix all of your mistakes, of course. Just the ones that you wouldn’t have made if you were actually standing in the dungeon instead of just listening to a description of it.

Fifth: Make sure to actually USE the map.

This might seem obvious, but your goal is to not to produce an immaculate cartographical masterpiece. Take notes directly on the map, and make sure you’re sharing the map with the rest of the group as a reference and resource for decision-making: Where have we been? Where should we be going? What do we know? What do we want to find out?

Sixth: The map is an artifact that actually exists in the game world.

You’re mapping in the real world just like your character is mapping in the game world. Make sure your character has the supplies they need to actually make the map. Think about where and how the map is being stored.

These are small details, but you’ll find they make a big difference in letting the map literally draw you into your character.

Seventh: Try not to let your mapping disrupt or distract from the rest of the game.

Mapping is important, but you should be able to do most or all of it in the background while play continues to flow normally. If you find that you’re constantly having to interrupt the action to get the information you need to make the map, then something has probably gone wrong.

Most likely, you’re seeking a level of precision greater than you need. Try to figure out how to make your map from the details your DM is normally giving you. If you need more detail than that, as noted above, try to seek it out in character (so that it becomes part of what’s happening in the game world rather than a distraction from it).

Eighth: To wrap things up here are three practical tips.

• Learn and use some simple map key symbols. (These are easy to find online, and there’s also a set in So You Want To Be a Game Master.)
• You’re not making a battlemap. Mapping at a 10-foot scale (as opposed to a 5-foot scale) will let you get a lot more of a dungeon level on a single page, which will make understanding, using, and updating your map a lot easier.
• Be aware of elevation changes. Not every elevation change is a level change, but passages passing above or below other passages are an easy source of confusion that can either ruin or over-complicate your map.

Next: Dungeon Master Best Practices

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 37E: On the Iron Mage’s Business

Tee and Ranthir both rose early the next morning and went shopping for potions. (Without Dominic’s divine aid, they needed more healing resources.) By the time they returned to the Ghostly Minstrel, the others were awake and they breakfasted together.

The Freeport’s Sword was due to arrive that day, but – as Tee had learned – it was unlikely to arrive until the afternoon. They decided to spend the morning attending to minor chores and the like.

Elestra decided to spend the morning gathering information from around town. But as soon as she walked out the door and bought a newssheet, she turned right around and went back inside.

“Shilukar has escaped.”

There’s a question I’ve been asked a few times about the newssheets that appear throughout the In the Shadow of the Spire campaign journal: Are these props that you’ve prepped? Are the players actually reading through these articles at the table?

Short answer: No.

I’m not averse to ginning up full newspaper articles as props for the players. I created quite a few of them as part of my Eternal Lies remix, for example, even going so far as to purchase actual newsprint paper that could they could be printed on.

Bonus Tip: You can easily find period-appropriate newspaper ads online. To go the extra mile, print the ads on the back of the sheet. Now, when you cut out the article, it will look like an actual clipping.

Bonus Bonus Tip: Take half of your newsprint and store it on a shelf in direct sunlight. Take the other half and make sure it’s hidden away in a dark closet. Newsprint yellows surprisingly quickly, and you’ll shortly have a supply of paper for both aged clippings from the morgue and new ones from today’s paper.

In fact, I’d originally planned to do something similar for this campaign, likely involving full daily broadsheets that I could hand out. There are a couple reasons, though, why this never panned out.

First, I wasn’t happy with the results I was getting. I’m not a fan of producing something that looks like a modern newspaper for a D&D-esque fantasy city like Ptolus; it feels anachronistic and cheap. Even historical analogues don’t quite feel “right” to me, and the aesthetics still weren’t great. There was some room for correction here: In my head canon, the newssheets of Ptolus are produced by enchanted quills, not a Gutenbergian printing press. Unfortunately, I just lacked either the artistic skill or vision to produce something that felt “right” to me.

In short, I just wasn’t getting much value-add from this.

Second, it was obviously very time-consuming: Both the trial-and-error of the graphical design and the work that would have gone into writing up all of the articles in detail.

In the Shadow of the Spire is a big campaign: There’s a lot of adventures. There are lots of factions and NPCs in motion at any given time. There are backdrops and subplots and chaos lorebooks. There’s just a lot of stuff, and I am kept more than busy enough juggling all of it!

The principles of smart prep decree that you should only spend your prep time on stuff that you can’t improvise at the game table, and fully written newssheets would definitely qualify. But smart prep also means prioritizing: Your time is not infinite. Your resources are not infinite. There’s a limit to how much you can achieve, and so you want to prioritize prepping, first, the essential, and then whatever’s most important and/or most rewarding.

For this specific campaign, the limited value of the newssheets bumped them down and then off the priority list.

So I launched the campaign without newssheet props, instead satisfying myself with a short section in my campaign status document:

NEWSSHEETS

• Has a story about another high-profile robbery in the Nobles’ District, which is being attributed to Shilukar. The master thief and mage is said to have broken into Dallaster Manor and assaulted the Dallaster’s daughtetr and heiress, Tillian.
• More reports of ratmen openly prowling the streets of the Warrens after dark. The City Watch still refuses to patrol the streets, although they say that they have increased their patrols along Old Sea Road to keep the problem contained

(This section has since grown to become considerably larger.)

Initially, I believed that I would later find the time to start prepping these newssheets, but I never did.

I also discovered in play that either the pace of the campaign or the inclinations of the players led to a pace where the “news of the day” was actually being split up and parceled out in smaller chunks throughout he day: The PCs were checking the newssheets (or their equivalent) not just once a day, but in the morning, around noon, in the afternoon, and in the evening (or some combination thereof).

So even if I’d started out writing up full newssheets, I might have ended up dropping the idea because it lacked flexibility: The props would be cool, but for this campaign they would be a less useful tool. I need to be able to flexibly figure out how to dole out the headlines to the players depending on when and where they’re trying to snag them, how events have evolved as a result of the PCs’ recent actions, and even the form in which the PCs are trying to find the information.

(And, as noted, some of those forms in actual play aren’t even newssheets.)

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

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 37E: ON THE IRON MAGE’S BUSINESS

May 9th, 2009
The 21st Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

TO THE DOCKS

And then the vision shredded, passing away like the drifting trails of the incense smoke in her room…

Maybe I don’t want to remember what happened… Or was that something that’s still to come?

She cleaned up the remnants of the ritual and stored the rest of the incense back in her bag of holding before heading back downstairs to meet up with the others in the common room. They headed down to the Docks together.

Once there they still had to wait for the better part of two hours, but eventually – under the mid-afternoon sun – they saw the Freeport’s Sword pulling into one of the deep-water piers.

Heading down the long length of the narrow pier, Tee hailed the captain of the vessel, who introduced himself as Captain Bartholomew. He was a dashing fellow, with a broad and merry grin.

“Aye, I have such a crate. And am glad to be rid of it.”

“Why?” Tee asked, casting a worried glance to the others.

“It came strangely from the hand of the Iron Mage. My crew thinks it cursed and have stayed well clear of its hold.”

“He is strange,” Ranthir said.

“You think we can trust him?” Elestra asked.

Ranthir shrugged.

In short order, Captain Bartholomew’s crewmen had unloaded the crate onto the dock. It was marked with the Iron Mage’s sigil (a plated visor beneath crossed wands), and it also proved quite large (nearly six feet square) and impossibly heavy.

“If I’d known it was going to be this large, I could have prepared a spell to move it,” Ranthir said.

Tee turned back to Captain Bartholomew. “How are we supposed to move it?”

“I was hired to deliver it to your care,” Captain Bartholomew said. “And that’s been done. So it’s no concern of mine.” And he ordered his men to start work on unloading the rest of his cargo.

Tee scowled, but there wasn’t much they could do about it.

THE YELLOW TEETH

Elestra volunteered to fetch and hire a cart. The others stayed behind to keep a guard on the crate while she walked back down the pier.

As she reached the Wharf Road, Elestra spotted a small huddle of cloaked men lurking down the alleyway opposite the pier’s end. The ambush was obvious, but thinking that it wouldn’t be sprung until they were leaving with their cargo, she turned down the street and hurried along to find a cart for rent.

Unfortunately, she was scarcely out of sight when the ambush was sprung. Casting off their cloaks, the “men” were revealed to be ratlings. They stormed the end of the pier, joined by nearly half a dozen ratbrutes as well.

Although caught by surprise (as Elestra had sent them no warning), the others were already on their guard against potential mischief. Long before the ratlings reached them, therefore, they were already moving quickly and efficiently into defensible positions. Ranthir wrapped his magicks around Agnarr, enlarging him to giant-like proportions. The barbarian, his stride increasing with every step, turned and marched down the pier.

The ratlings swarmed to meet him, but were met by Agnarr’s flaming greatsword – working like a scythe through fresh hay. Their assault quickly fell into disarray before him and then, a few moments later, Tor – similarly enlarged by Ranthir’s spells – stepped forward as well. The two of them, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, blocked the pier from side to side.

Tee, meanwhile, had been calling out to Captain Bartholomew and his crew. After a quick bout of negotiation, she successfully hired their aid (at the rather exorbitant rate of 25 gold pieces to the head). With the price settled, Bartholomew led his crew into the fight with whooping war-cries.

The initial assault had now foundered completely. Only two of the ratlings had survived, and these wilier fellows now drew their dragon pistols and fell back to take potshots from the end of the pier. But the battle was far from over, for now the ratbrutes were coming forward.

Agnarr met the first of the brutes as it lumbered near. He cut the creature down easily, the flames of his sword cutting deep into scorched flesh. But one of the other ratbrutes – shouting orders and clearly in command – approached more carefully, with a third ratbrute serving as his second. Their swords scissored out, and Agnarr was caught viciously between them. With a gurgling cry, he stumbled backward and collapsed.

Tor fell back a few steps, but largely managed to hold the line against the renewed assault from the ratbrutes. With Tor occupied, however, the rat-leader gestured crudely and, a moment later, two of the ratbrutes dropped off either edge of the pier and began swimming underwater.

Tee, who had been shooting from the far end of the dock, saw the ratbrutes disappear into the waves. Dispatching one of Bartholomew’s sailors to bear a healing potion to Agnarr, she drew the rest of them into a tight defensive perimeter around the crate.

It wasn’t long before her fears were realized: The two waterlogged ratbrutes clambered up onto the dock behind Tor and rushed the defenders around the crate. Tee and the sailors leapt forward to counter-attack, but in mere moments two of Bartholomew’s crew had already been grievously injured.

At almost this very moment, Elestra finished haggling for the cart and turned back to discover the chaos breaking out down the Wharf Road. With a cry she transformed into an owl and began flying back as fast as her wings would carry her.

Meanwhile, the pirate Tee had sent with healing potions had reached Agnarr’s side. Although he had been cut down only a moment later by a particularly vicious back-handed blow from the leader of the ratbrutes, he had managed to press one of the potions to Agnarr’s lips.

Agnarr was conscious once again, but one of the ratbrutes – who had stepped forward as Tor fell back – was now straddling him. Still badly hurt and separated from his sword, Agnarr knew that he wouldn’t live long if the ratbrutes realized he was a threat. So, for the nonce, he contented himself with surreptitiously sipping healing potions.

But the instant that Tor cut down the ratbrute standing over him, Agnarr leapt back to his feet. His sudden presence distracted the ratbrute leader, who had been moving to flank Tor. Tor seized the advantage and focused all his fury upon him.

The ratbrute seized a healing potion of his own, quaffed it, and fell back. But Tor pursued and cut him another wound for his troubles. The ratbrute might yet have recovered, but Ranthir – from the far end of the pier – struck him in the face with a bolt of magical energy. The blast left him momentarily dazed, and Tor had little trouble finishing him off.

Seeing him fall, Tee cried out to the ratbrutes fighting near the crate, “Your leader is dead! Turn and look!”

But the ratbrutes merely snarled. “The Yellow Teeth never turn! They never retreat!”

They cut down another of the sailors. Tee, enraged, pressed her own attack and killed one of the brutes. But in the action she left her back open, and the second brute – with a hefty swing of his massive blade – cut her down.

One of the sailors cried out. “The pretty lady is dead! She’s dead!” A general panic settled into Bartholomew’s men and a rout had begun.

Agnarr, seeing the danger, ran down the length of the dock. But the remaining ratbrute ignored him and ran for the now utterly unguarded crate. Agnarr’s last, desperate sword swing narrowly missed the creature as it reared back its own massive sword and—

Smashed open the crate!

An inky, stygian darkness suddenly enveloped the end of the pier. The sailors trapped within it began screaming in terror. One, who had been attempting to flee back aboard the Freeport’s Sword, fell from the gangplank into the water below with a gurgling cry. Others, halfway down the dock in their rout, came to a stumbling and bewildered halt.

The ratbrute’s huge rat ass, however, was still hanging out of the darkness. Agnarr chopped him down. At the far end of the pier, Tor was doing the same (although he needed to chase the last of the cowardly ratlings half a block down Wharf Street before cutting him down from behind). “I thought the Yellow Teeth never turn,” he said sardonically over the corpse.

A DARK BEYOND DARKNESS

Elestra alighted on the dock and resumed her human form. She quickly healed Tee (who had been merely injured, not killed).

Ranthir, meanwhile, examined the crate-born darkness. It could be easily identified as a point-source effect, but he needed to know more. He quickly weaved a few spells—

And was blasted into unconsciousness.

When the others managed to rouse him, he told them of a magical aura so powerful that it had literally obliterated his senses when he tried to look upon it. From this, he concluded that any effort on his part to negate it would fail. However, since the effect had previously been occluded by the crate, it might be possible to physically impede it.

To that end, they paid an egregious and ridiculous sum to Captain Bartholomew for a large piece of sail cloth. By wrapping this around the damaged crate, they were able to blot out the darkness. Then they were forced to pay a similarly ridiculous price for a larger crate, which they levered into position and, thus, sealed the broken crate inside.

While those with mightier thews tended to this business under Ranthir’s instruction, Tee and Elestra quickly searched the bodies. In addition to a few small sums of coin and the like, they found upon the body of the leader a letter of some considerable interest:

LETTER FROM SILION TO BATTACK

Battack—

I have need of the Yellow Teeth. A vessel named the Freeport’s Sword will be arriving in port tomorrow. It carries a crate bearing the mark of a plated visor beneath crossed wands. The Tolling Bell has commanded that the contents of this crate be secured.

We have a rare opportunity: None of the other brotherhoods have managed to ascertain the crate’s location. Many still seek it among the islands. If we can obtain it and deliver it to Wuntad’s hand, we shall be honored not only by his hand but in the eyes of the Sleeping Gods.

Do not fail me in this.

Silion

Running the Campaign: Newssheets – Campaign Journal: Session 38A
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 37D: Affairs of the Evening

“He’s going to come looking for us,” Agnarr said.

“Not if he can’t get out of the prison,” Elestra said.

“If they couldn’t keep him in his cell, how likely is it they’ll keep him in the prison?” Tee asked.

“If he hasn’t gotten out already,” Tor said.

When Sera Nara arrived at the beginning of Session 37, collected Dominic, and disappeared into the night with him, this was because, sadly, Dominic’s player was leaving the campaign.

Dominic was gone.

I’ll have more to say about Dominic’s departure (and the ensuing consequences) in future installments of Running the Campaign, but for the moment I want to discuss the most immediate consequences: The party had lost its most powerful and dedicated healer.

One of the most basic foundations of tactics and strategy in D&D (and many other RPGs) boils down to a simple mathematical question: How much damage can you take vs. how much damage can you deal out? There are obviously A LOT of variables here that complicate things substantially, but on the “how much damage can you take” side of the equation the big X-factors are:

• What are your maximum hit point totals?
• How many hit points of healing can you do each day?

An important secondary consideration with healing is how fast you can add hit points to the active pool. (A periapt that can heal up to 1,000 hp per day at a rate of 1 hp per round is an incredible “deep reservoir,” but probably won’t help you keep standing in the middle of a fight where your opponents are dealing out 30 points of damage per hit.)

The departure of Dominic hits the group across the board:

• Their maximum hit point total has been reduced by his hit point count.
• Their maximum healing potential per day is drastically reduced.
• Without their specialized healer, their rate of healing per round is also drastically reduced.
• There are now fewer PC targets in combat, meaning damage will become more concentrated.

This is a really risky moment for most groups. In my experience, far riskier than they may realize.

The trick is that most groups – even groups with a lot of experience and skill – don’t really think deeply about this sort of stuff. They aren’t, for example, doing explicit analysis of their hit points vs. healing vs. damage output. Instead, over the course of the campaign, they’ve developed a sort of evolving gut instinct for what they can handle and how fights are going to play out.

It can be really easy to know that you’ve lost a PC and understand that it’s going to have an impact, but then drastically underestimate the actual impact it’s going to have. The loss of a PC – particularly a primary healer liker Dominic – isn’t a linear loss of capability. It’s more like an exponential one.

That means the group’s gut instinct is going to be LYING to them. Not only will they be prone to biting off more than they can chew, but when a fight goes south on them it’s going to go really bad and spiral out of control much faster than they anticipate.

Fortunately, in this case, the players were at least partially aware of the danger. Throughout Session 37, you can see it affecting their decision-making: They’re more conservative in the dangers they’re willing to face, and they’re more cautious in engaging with those dangers.

Complicating this even further, however, is that YOUR gut instinct, as the GM, is also going to be skewed. So it can be quite possible for you to push them into the abyss without meaning to. When you lose a player (and corresponding PC), therefore, you’ll want to spend a few sessions being hyper-alert to this until your gut has a chance to readjust.

Tip: One way you could help adjust for this a bit is to level up the other PCs in the group ASAP after losing a player. The extra power up will partially compensate for their diminished capacity.

You can, of course, experience this same danger even if a player is only missing for a session or two, rather than permanently departing.

So check your gut.

Campaign Journal: Session 37E – Running the Campaign: Newssheets
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 37D: AFFAIRS OF THE EVENING

May 9th, 2009
The 20th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

ILTUMAR’S INTERVENTION

They quickly explained the situation to Lavis, who seemed both shocked and saddened by what Iltumar had done (and was doing).

“Will you help us?” Tee asked. “We want to stage an intervention for him.”

Lavis agreed. They went back into the room where Iltumar was still lying unconscious on the surgical table and woke him up.

“Tee? Lavis? What are you doing here?”

“We came to help you, Iltumar,” Tee said.

“Help? I don’t need help!”

“Look at what you’ve done to yourself.” She gestured at his hands.

Iltumar looked down. He was horrified by the mutilation. “What happened?”

“This is what they were trying to do to you.”

“No! They were going to make me stronger so that I could help people!”

Confused, dazed, and in a fair amount of pain, Iltumar was also steeped in denial. But when they brought in Lavis a few minutes later, he broke down completely.

“I just wanted to help people…” he murmured.

Lavis patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

They seemed to have gotten through to him, but they weren’t sure it was going to stick.

“As soon as we let him go, he’ll just go running back,” Elestra said.

Tor nodded. “And even if he doesn’t, they’ll be looking for him. It’s not safe for him to go home.”

“Or anywhere,” Tee agreed.

SQUIRING ILTUMAR

They eventually decided to send him to Pythoness House. “If he really wants to do good,” Tor said, “Then maybe Sir Kabel can give him the chance.”

While the others returned to the Ghostly Minstrel, Tee bundled Iltumar into a carriage and took him to Pythoness House. The place was quickly being transformed: One corner of the courtyard, which was bustling with activity, had been stacked high with refuse cleaned out from the inner rooms of the keep. Guards were now posted openly at the gate and they were able to direct Tee to where Sir Kabel was overseeing the refurbishing of one of the chambers on the second floor.

Tee gave Kabel a terse summary of Iltumar’s situation and his desires. Kabel agreed to shelter the boy in Pythoness House, with an eye towards squiring him into the Order if he proved worthy.

Once Kabel had sent Iltumar away with one of his knights to get him sorted away, however, Tee turned back to him. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of him, but you should know that it’s possible you shouldn’t trust him. I think he’s all right, but he fell in with a bad crowd. And they’ll be looking for him. He shouldn’t be allowed to leave Pythoness House.”

Kabel nodded. “That shouldn’t be problem.”

Tee took a deep breath. “There’s something else.”

Kabel quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“We spoke with the Commissar about Dominic’s plan to denounce Rehobath.”

“What?” Kabel was less than happy.

“The Commissar was concerned. And I think he’s got good reason for it.”

Kabel shook his head. “If Rehobath didn’t know before, he almost certainly knows now.”

“I don’t think the Commissar would tell him. He’s already annulled the warrant for your arrest.”

“It’s not a matter of who might tell him, it’s a matter of how many people know. And the list keeps growing.” Kabel grew thoughtful, but there was still an undercurrent of anger. “We’ve already talked about moving up the date of the announcement.”

“I thought you were going to wait for the Silver Fatar?”

“That may not be possible now.”

AFFAIRS OF THE EVENING

When the others returned to Delvers’ Square, Agnarr stopped by the Bull and Bear to let Hirus know that Iltumar and Lavis had both been rescued and that Iltumar was being kept in a safe place. Hirus thanked him profusely. Agnarr, made slightly uncomfortable by the show of gratitude, smiled, grunted, and excused himself.

Tor went to the stables, saddled Blue, and spent the next half hour riding up and down Tavern Row. He had some sense of keeping an eye out for any signs of gang activity between the Killravens and Balacazars, but the tension on the street was palpable. Members of the City Watch were posted everywhere, and after Tor’s third or fourth circuit he was approached by some of the guards and asked his business. When he wasn’t able to give a satisfactory answer, they told him to “be about your lack business elsewhere” (with a long look of askance at the red sash he wore).

After leaving Pythoness House, Tee headed to the White House. There she found the two soldiers who had fleeced Agnarr earlier in the day and, settling herself at their table, managed to win 15 of the gold pieces back from them. After they had decided to call it a night (“You see? I told you there wouldn’t be any barbarians here!”), she shifted over to the high stake tables and – on a string of good luck – won 300 gold pieces.

ILL NEWS FROM THE PRISON

(09/21/790)

Tee and Ranthir both rose early the next morning and went shopping for potions. (Without Dominic’s divine aid, they needed more healing resources.) By the time they returned to the Ghostly Minstrel, the others were awake and they breakfasted together.

The Freeport’s Sword was due to arrive that day, but – as Tee had learned – it was unlikely to arrive until the afternoon. They decided to spend the morning attending to minor chores and the like.

Elestra decided to spend the morning gathering information from around town. But as soon as she walked out the door and bought a newssheet, she turned right around and went back inside.

“Shilukar has escaped.”

“What?!”

It was true. Shilukar had disappeared from his cell in the Prison. Warden Odsen Rom swore that the thief-mage had not escaped, but he was also forced to confess that his guards had no idea where Shilukar might be hiding within the Prison complex, either.

“He’s going to come looking for us,” Agnarr said.

“Not if he can’t get out of the prison,” Elestra said.

“If they couldn’t keep him in his cell, how likely is it they’ll keep him in the prison?” Tee asked.

“If he hasn’t gotten out already,” Tor said.

They talked about it a little longer, but there didn’t seem to be anything they could do about it. And they weren’t even sure they wanted to do anything about it: Shilukar had neither the Idol of Ravvan nor the cure for Lord Abbercombe. He might come after them, but they had no reason to pursue him. He was somebody else’s problem.

FILLING THE MORNING HOURS

Tor had another round of training scheduled at the Godskeep. He found that the work of repositioning a bulk of the Order to the Holy Palace was still under way, but the halls already seemed emptier and it felt as if the hectic activity of the day before was beginning to die down.

Agnarr headed back to the Bull and Bear for the third time. He still needed to find a suit of armor for Seeaeti, having been caught up in the Iltumar affair the first time he’d gone and deciding that it wasn’t the best time to broach the subject the second time.

He found Hirus in a welcoming and appreciative vein. He thanked Agnarr again for all the help he had given Iltumar, and when Agnarr explained what he was looking for he became thoughtful for a moment.

“I bought a suit of damaged mage-touched chain yesterday,” he said after a moment. “There’s a large section of it missing. Repairing it would be a major undertaking, but it would be much easier for me to modify it for your hound.”

“How much?” Agnarr asked.

“Oh, no! This is the least I can do to show my thanks!” Hirus waved his hands. “I’ll have it ready for you in four days.”

TEE’S INCENSE VISION

Tee, finding herself with a free block of time for the first time in days, was feeling experimental. She took out the vision incense they had found in Pythoness House and carefully prepared her room for the ritual Ranthir had described to her.

The burning incense had a pleasing scent which pulled her quickly and easily into a trance-like state. But then, suddenly, the scent turned to brimstone in her nostrils.

Her eyes snapped open.

She found herself in a hellish scene. Black, basalt rock extended off to a featureless horizon. A single, pale star glinted in the sky, providing a dim radiance. Standing twenty feet before her was a writhing globe of flesh and body parts. Mouths appeared on the globe, moaning and howling in pain.

After a few a moments, a sickening rending noise ripped its way free from the globe as the fleshy substance was torn apart. Stepping out of the rented, deflating side came a massive, black reptilian with a single, cyclopean eye of sickly yellow.

“AT LAST… YOU HAVE COME TO THE VAULT OF TSATHZAR RHO… MAY SESSURAL FEAST UPON YOUR DREAMS!”

She became aware of Agnarr screaming in her ear: “Tee! Tee! What is it? What’s wrong?”

Running the Campaign: Losing a PC – Campaign Journal: Session 37E
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index