DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 41C: I’ll Be Seeing You

They returned naturally to the question of their lodgings: Should they go? If so, where?

Jevicca suggested the Nibeck Street mansion. It was currently abandoned, it would give them a base of operations as close to the Banewarrens as they might care to have, and it would let them defend the entrance to the Banewarrens.

On the other hand, as Agnarr put it, “Living over the hellmouth? No thanks.”

After Arveth’s assassination attempt in the previous journal entry, the PCs were highly motivated to figure out what their permanent — and secure! — home base in Ptolus would be.

Wanting to establish a permanent residence wasn’t an entirely new thread in the campaign, however. As the GM, in fact, I was kind of surprised it hadn’t happened already.

When I was initially ginning up the In the Shadow of the Spire campaign, of course, I had anticipated that the Ghostly Minstrel would serve as their initial home base:

• It was a well-detailed location.
• There were cool, poster-sized maps of the inn to enhance play.
• I had positioned the inn as central to the mystery of the PCs’ missing time.

But then, during character creation, Tithenmamiwen unexpectedly ended up being from Ptolus. As described here, the initial pitch was that, although the campaign would be set in Ptolus, none of the PCs should be from the city, but this shifted as we developed Tee’s character background. This meant that Tee actually owned a house in Ptolus, and I assumed it was quite likely that the group would end up staying there:

But when the PCs went there, way back in Session 1, something unexpected happened:

Returning to her house, Tee found everything undisturbed – essentially as she had left it, except for a thick covering of dust. With a distracted, almost manic air, she immediately set to spring cleaning the place. Others in the group offered to help, but they had not gotten far into the work when Ranthir suddenly came to a stop: “If we’ve been back in this city for two weeks and you have not returned to this place… Perhaps there was a reason for that?”

Tee stopped what she was doing. It seemed to tear her up inside, but she was forced to admit that Ranthir was right. They left and she locked the door behind them.

And, with only a couple small exceptions, the PCs, in order to keep her friends and family safe, have not returned to Tee’s mothballed home.

When Tor’s player joined the campaign, they really wanted the group to get a house. It was something that they, as a player, had always wanted to do in a D&D game, but had never had the opportunity to actually make it happen.

I fully expected that this would happen, so I reached out and grabbed Rosegate House from the Ptolus sourcebook (pictured at the beginning of this post).

The PCs in Monte Cook’s original Ptolus campaign were gifted Rosegate House, and he set it up as a resource specifically for GMs like me who had players looking for a house in the city. (One of the great things about Ptolus as a setting is that, having been born from actual play, it’s chockablock with these kinds of practical tools and toys.)

But for whatever reason, despite often talking about it (both at the table and away from it), the PCs never did it. They never actually went looking for a house on sale. (I was surprised that even in this session, as they were actively exploring a bunch of different options, it didn’t actually come up.)

The other major candidate that had been floating around for awhile was Pythoness House, which had first appeared as an adventure location before being cleared out by the PCs. (As I’ve previously discussed, Pythoness House also has awesome graphical resources that were published for it.) I suspect that if the players hadn’t just ensconced Sir Kabel and the Order of the Dawn in Pythoness House a few sessions earlier, that this would, in fact, have been their solution. But since Pythoness House wasn’t currently available (and was also now tangled up in Church politics), it no longer seemed like a viable alternative.

For whatever reason, I had not expected them to approach Lord Zavere about the possibility of staying at Castle Shard. (If I recall correctly, that didn’t work out because they blew their Charisma check.)

PLAYER RENOVATIONS

At this point, therefore, I had actually expected the players to have long since left the Ghostly Minstrel. (Although I did hope that it would still be a place they’d visit as a social hub.)

Instead, with other options not quite panning out for a bunch of different reasons, the PCs ended up doubling down on the Ghostly Minstrel.

Which was great!

When the PCs settle into a long-term home base, I think it’s almost always a good idea to create a map of it. First, I think it makes it feel more like a real, concrete place to the players. Second, the odds that at some point they’ll get involved in a fight or some similar action scene there is approximately 110%.

In this case, as I mentioned above, there was already a great one for the Minstrel (and we’d been using it for a while):

Second Floor of the Ghostly Minstrel

Once the PCs have a home base, though, the moment will almost inevitably come when they want to remodel the joint.

So they decided to stay where they were. Instead of hiding, they would bunker down. They laid out a plan for remodeling an entire wing of the Ghostly Minstrel: A false room with a secret door would be used as a pass-thru to a real suite of other rooms connected by new, interior doors.

They spoke with Tellith, who agreed to the remodel if they paid for it and if they also paid at a year’s rent in advance for the rooms they would be converting. This done, they spent several thousand crowns and arranged for more than twenty contractors (including several master craftsmen) to install the secret door, punch thru the two new connecting doors, and to strengthen the security on the existing doors. They also hired an arcanist to ward the windows with permanent alarms. And then they spent even more money to speed a project that should rightfully take weeks until it would take only two days to complete. On top of all that, Tee set aside enough money to pay every single person working on the project a hefty bonus to forget that they had ever worked on it.

Nasira was somewhat taken aback by the sheer amount of money they were able to throw at the project (more than 5,000 crowns when all was said and done). And while the project surely tapped deeply into their resources, they all felt it was an investment worth making.

Which is also great! It’s how the PCs can truly take ownership over a space and make it definitively theirs.

Once the PCs start making major modifications, though, what do you do with your beautiful maps? Well, sometimes you’ll end up just making an all-new map. More often than not, though, I’ll us a map patch like this one:

These alter just the section of the map that has been changed. Sometimes I’ll apply the match digitally and simply print out a new copy of the full map. In this case, I just printed out a copy of the map patch itself. Several sessions later, when the renovations were complete, I was able to present the patch to the players and let them actually add it to the map themselves — a little metagame ceremony that let them share in their characters’ excitement at touring their new rooms.

You can find other map patches I’ve done for cities and wilderness maps here and here.

To create map patches like these, I simply load the map into a graphics editing program like Photoshop (scanning it first if necessary). Then a little judicious copy-and-pasting combined with the clone tool generally lets me use elements of the original map as a palette for the new one. For location maps like the Ghostly Minstrel, seek out:

• Clean sections of wall without surrounding décor. (You’ll likely need both straight walls and corners.)
• Empty floor tiles.
• Doors and windows.

Other elements can also be useful, obviously, but if you can get these basics in place, you can usually do almost anything.

You might also find it useful to seek out other maps by the same cartographer to source other useful elements while maintaining the same visual style.

It’s vitally important, of course, to keep the resolution of the patch synced to the original image so that applying the patch (whether digitally or physically) can be seamless and easy.

Campaign Journal: Session 41D – Running the Campaign: Aftermath of Adventure
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 41C: I’LL BE SEEING YOU

August 15th, 2009
The 23rd Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

THE ALLIANCE MIRAGE

When the false dawn was still cresting the sky, Tee arose while the others still slept and left the Minstrel. She headed up to Castle Shard, where she found that even with the early morning hour Kadmus was waiting for her. He escorted her to Lord Zavere, who it seemed had arisen not long before.

“I’m sorry to disturb you so early in the morning,” Tee said. “But I have news about the Idol of Ravvan.”

Zavere was more than interested when Tee showed him the letter they had recovered from the Temple of the Ebon Hand concerning the Dawnbreaker, the Argent Dawn, and the unnamed “idol”. Zavere wasn’t as certain as Tee that the letter referred to the Idol of Ravvan, but he agreed that it was a definite possibility. “Keep me informed of anything you might discover.”

“We will,” Tee promised. “But there was one other matter.”

“What is it?” Zavere asked.

Tee quickly supplied him with an abbreviated version of the ambush from the night before.

“Is everyone all right?”

“Yes,” Tee said. “Barely. But we don’t know where we can go that would be safe. We were wondering if… Well, we were wondering if it would be possible to stay at Castle Shard.”

Zavere pondered it for a long moment, but then he said, “I’m sorry, but it’s not possible. Your relationship to Rehobath is too well known. If I were to give you or your comrades sanctuary – particularly Sir Tor – it would be seen as Castle Shard aligning itself with Rehobath.”

Tee chose her next words carefully. “I don’t trust Rehobath any more than anyone else should.”

“Be that as it may,” Zavere said. “It’s ultimately a matter of public perception, not reality. I have no desire to tip the scales in this matter. Nor do I want to antagonize the Commissar in this. The situation is simply too delicate.”

“I understand,” Tee said with a resigned sigh, and left to rejoin the others for breakfast at the Minstrel.

THE PACTLORDS OF THE QUAAN

As they were settling down to their meal, they were surprised to see Jevicca come through the front doors of the inn.

“Good morning!” she said cheerfully, waving her red-glass arm towards them.

“Jevicca!” Agnarr said, a huge grin creasing his face. “What brings you here this morning?”

“I have news,” she said. “We’ve identified the bone ring you gave me.”

‘Really?” Tee said.

“They belong to the Pactlords of the Quaan,” Jevicca said.

“The who of the what now?” Elestra said.

“They’re not very well known,” Jevicca said, “And they’re mostly dismissed as a minor criminal organization. They’ve also got a minor reputation in the slave trade.” (Tee’s ears perked up at the mention of the slave trade. Could there be a connection to the Brotherhood of the Blooded Knife?) “But the reality is something more than that.

“There is an ancient book known as the Tome of the Shadow Dragons. Or perhaps it is many books. Only fragments of it have ever been found, and even these are few and hard to decipher. This book speaks of the “teachings of Jessuk”, a body of lore dedicated to the warping and corruption of natural life – the transformation of the natural races into abominations.

“These arts were practiced en masse by both the Banelord and Ghul, among others. The Pactlords are the descendants of the creatures created by them. They hold themselves superior to the “natural races” and, ultimately, seek to subjugate us.

“The group is held together through a living pact which is focused through these bone rings. The nature of the pact – and the force which binds it – is a secret kept by the Pactlords themselves. As is the nature of the ‘Quaan’.

“They have never been seen to pose any true threat, but they consider themselves – like Ghul before them – to be the natural heirs of the Banelord’s secrets. This explains their interest in the Banewarrens, but that doesn’t appear to be the group’s only current activity: Slave raiders have been prowling the caverns around Kaled Del and attacking the trade caravans of the Delvers’ Guild. Some of the raiders have been reported to be wearing ‘rings of bone’.”

THE FORTRESS SUITE

Jevicca’s briefing gave them a lot to chew on. She asked after their progress with the Banewarrens, but there wasn’t much they could tell. (And even less that they wanted to.) As they turned to amiable chatting over the rest of their breakfast, they returned naturally to the question of their lodgings: Should they go? If so, where?

Jevicca suggested the Nibeck Street mansion. It was currently abandoned, it would give them a base of operations as close to the Banewarrens as they might care to have, and it would let them defend the entrance to the Banewarrens.

On the other hand, as Agnarr put it, “Living over the hellmouth? No thanks.”

Greyson House was another abandoned building, but, as Tee pointed out, “The bad guys have already looked for us there. It’s no safer than here.”

“We could just go to another inn,” Elestra suggested.

“But that has all the same problems,” Tor said.

“Only if we stay in the same place,” Tee said. “We could just load everything we own into bags of holding and stay in a different inn each night.”

But that would prove troublesome for Ranthir’s research.

Tor proposed, as he often had in the past, that they buy a house somewhere in Ptolus.

“But that has the same problems, too,” Tee said. “It’s only a matter of time before they track us down, and then we’re vulnerable again.”

If they needed fortifications, then perhaps Pythoness House would be a solution. But Sir Kabel was already there, and while the others might be able to make that work, Tor would only be able to stay there if he abandoned his position within the Order of the Dawn. They briefly considered Tor staying at the Godskeep or the Holy Palace, but splitting the party seemed like a bad idea – particularly if it meant burrowing even deeper into the politics of the church.

Security through obfuscation, as Ranthir pointed out, was playing with fire: They could reset the clock, but eventually their new home (wherever it might be) would be found. And once it was found, they became vulnerable.

So they decided to stay where they were. Instead of hiding, they would bunker down. They laid out a plan for remodeling an entire wing of the Ghostly Minstrel: A false room with a secret door would be used as a pass-thru to a real suite of other rooms connected by new, interior doors.

They spoke with Tellith, who agreed to the remodel if they paid for it and if they also paid at a year’s rent in advance for the rooms they would be converting. This done, they spent several thousand crowns and arranged for more than twenty contractors (including several master craftsmen) to install the secret door, punch thru the two new connecting doors, and to strengthen the security on the existing doors. They also hired an arcanist to ward the windows with permanent alarms. And then they spent even more money to speed a project that should rightfully take weeks until it would take only two days to complete. On top of all that, Tee set aside enough money to pay every single person working on the project a hefty bonus to forget that they had ever worked on it.

Nasira was somewhat taken aback by the sheer amount of money they were able to throw at the project (more than 5,000 crowns when all was said and done). And while the project surely tapped deeply into their resources, they all felt it was an investment worth making.

THE NEXT STEP

While they were still drawing out their plans for the new suite, an invitation arrived.

INVITATION TO THE CRUISE OF THE VANISHED DREAM

We had hoped that this invitation might arrive on a most triumphant note – giving you proper congratulations on the apprehension of Shilukar and the ending of his scourged blight upon the city. With the recent news of his escape within the prison, that triumphant note is perhaps muted, but your accomplishment was nonetheless notable and worthy of great praise and equally great appreciation.

To whit, it would be our honor – both in light of the duty you have done for us and for those sundry other accomplishments which you have achieved in the name and for the betterment of our fair city – to attend upon us for a grand cruise of the Vanished Dream at the estates of House Abanar upon the Fifth of Noctural to celebrate the last rays of the year’s light and the coming of the Days of Night.

Dered Abanar
Merchant Prince of the Abanars

Ranthir quickly penned a positive and elegant acceptance, and they dispatched it by courier.

While Tee was drawing up the contracts and making the other arrangements necessary for the suite, Tor went to the Godskeep to continue his training with the Order of the Dawn. While he was there, he was informed that Rehobath had requested a meeting with him that evening at 7 o’clock. Tor wasn’t told what the meeting was about, but he could only suspect it had something to do with Dominic’s denunciation of Rehobath the day before.

Elestra, meanwhile, was checking the morning newssheets. The headlines were considerably less dramatic than the day before (“What a Whopper! Stranded Jellyfish as Big as a House!”), but there was also a report of another brutal murder in Oldtown: A priest had been killed on the Columned Row. His head had been ripped open, just like the woman who had been killed the night before on Flamemoth Way.

On her way back to the Ghostly Minstrel, Tee stopped by the Delvers’ Guild and left a message posted for Arveth:

Arveth—

Eye’ll be seeing you.

“Do you think she’ll break my code?”

Running the Campaign: Home Base Renovations – Campaign Journal: Session 41D
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 41B: The Return of Arveth

At Myraeth’s, they found a bag of holding formed from links of golden chain with a dragon worked in crimson links within it. It was larger than the ones they already owned and Tee – envying the dragon design – was depressed to find it was too bulky and heavy for her to carry.

Ranthir took it instead, nesting it among his many bags and pouches.

Something you may notice throughout the campaign journal is me giving specific, unique descriptions to various items. Sometimes I’ll even go so far as to prep visual handouts for them.

This is probably even more prevalent at the actual table, since only the most notable or pertinent examples actually make it into the journal.

(I should mention that I’m not prepping all of these ahead of time. A lot of them – including the bag of holding described above – are being improvised at the table. The principles of smart prep apply here.)

Some of these descriptions end up being ephemeral – useful for a moment to conjure an image of the world before the inner eyes of the players, but otherwise largely or entirely forgotten.

Others, however, will stick.

Which ones?

Nobody knows.

Sometimes I try to predict it (“this is so cool, they’ll obviously remember it forever!”), but I’m almost certainly wrong more often than I’m right. What sticks with this sort of thing is usually a lot more situational than you might think. Attention and memory can be fickle things, and which objects sentimental value and notoriety attaches to often has at least as much to do with what’s happening to both characters and players at that precise moment as it does the object itself.

The point, though, is that for anything to stick you have to keep throwing stuff out there. Enough stuff that you can start winning the numbers game.

Although, on the other hand, you don’t want to throw out so much stuff that it overwhelms the players and becomes indistinguishable noise. Not every rusty sword the PCs find in a moldering crypt needs to be lovingly detailed. And, if you are giving an item the bespoke treatment, you don’t need to lavish it with multiple paragraphs. Usually just one or two cool details will get the job done. (Maybe three on the outside.) Even if you know that not every item you describe will ultimately stand out, you still want every object to have the opportunity to do so.

Which is why, in D&D, I’ll often focus this descriptive detail on magic items. It inherently narrows the field for me. I also want magic items to feel special. For example, it’s easy for every bag of holding to glob together into a generic nonentity, and they really shouldn’t.

(Although by no means should this dissuade you from occasionally hyping up a mundane item with a cool description. It certainly doesn’t stop me.)

This is not going to be a comprehensive discussion of all the different ways you can give objects cool descriptions, but here are a few things I like to think about.

First, what’s the utility of the object? What does it actually do? How could that be reflected in the structure of appearance of the object?

For example, a staff of fire gives its wielder resistance to fire damage and can be used to create flame-based effects (burning hands, fireball, wall of fire). Some quick brainstorming suggests various options:

• Someone attuning to the staff is limned in a flickering flame.
• The staff is topped be a large ruby, inside which is trapped an eternally burning flame (and all the various fire spells blast out from this ruby).
• The entire staff is actually made from a frozen flame.
• The staff is warm to the touch.
• When one attunes to the staff, it scorches the hand holding the staff, leaving a brand depicting the arcane sigil of the wizard who created it.
• The staff is a long shard of obsidian, split down the middle. To create one of the staff’s fire effects, pull the two ends of the staff apart, revealing the heart of flame held within.

Second, add one other purely decorative or incidental detail. If the utility hasn’t already added some flash to the item, this is a good opportunity to do so. These details might also suggest ownership, origin, or similar information. (Which may just be flavor, but could also reveal relevant information about the situation or scenario.)

Let’s do another one. A keycharm, from Eberron: Rising from the Last War, allows you to cast alarm, arcane lock, and glyph of warding spells that alert the holder of the keycharm if they’re triggered or bypassed. The item description suggests that this looks like a “small, stylized key.” If we stick that, we might still look at options like:

• The key is formed from a black stone with strange purple veins running through it.
• The key is made from taurum, the true gold and its bow bears the sigil of House Abanar.
• The key is a living “bud” sprouted from the heartwood of a dryad’s tree by druidic arts.
• A plain key of battered copper, but the bits of the key are a whirling, ever-shifting blur.

As you’re improvising these descriptions, remember that you can put your thumb on the scale of the party’s reaction by thinking about what you know the players or their characters already love (e.g., Tee’s infatuation with dragons) or hate.

(I would honestly pay good money for a book that was just a dozen different “looks” for every magic item in the Dungeon Master’s Guide.)

Campaign Journal: Session 41C – Running the Campaign: Home Bases
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 41B: THE RETURN OF ARVETH

August 15th, 2009
The 22nd Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

“That’s her,” Arveth said.

Another cultist stepped through the door behind her and swung it shut.

In the next room down, Seeaeti was aware that something was wrong. He stood up and started barking at the wall. Agnarr let him out into the hall… but missed the tail-end of the ambush by mere seconds.

The cultists started clubbing Tee, who managed to avoid the worst of it by rolling with the blows and tossing around in the cushions… until Arveth stepped forward and slipped a dagger between her ribs. “They took my eye, bitch.”

Tee, who had been screaming, gasped in pain.

Agnarr hadn’t heard her muffled screams because Seeaeti was still barking loudly. (“What is it, boy? What is it?”) But Ranthir heard the screams through the walls and rushed into the hall. He quickly told Agnarr what he had heard and then hurried on to Tor’s door.

The cultist who had followed Arveth into Tee’s room dropped a silence spell over it, abruptly cutting off Tee’s screams.

Agnarr ran down the hall and threw himself against the door… but it held firm. Elestra, wakened by Seeaeti’s barking (but oblivious to the cause) also came out into the hall. Ranthir, beating on Tor’s door, managed to rouse the scarce-sleeping knight. He rushed back to his own room… just in time to see Tee thrown out of her window in a silent, cascading shower of glass. She hit the pavement below with a sickening thud.

Ranthir ran back into the hall and shouted to the others what had happened. Elestra ran past him, through his room, and jumped out the window, tumbling onto the jutting corner of the first floor below and from there down to Tee’s prostrate form.

Unfortunately, Elestra was seen by the cultists above. One of them – the one who had followed Arveth into the room – leapt to the first floor roof himself. Whirling he lowered his hands and sent forth a wave of flame which Elestra narrowly ducked under.

Arveth was close behind him, leaping directly to the ground with acrobatic aplomb. Her sword was out and she attacked Elestra before she could reach Tee’s side.

Above, Tor had pushed his way past Agnarr and also thrown himself ineffectually against the door. Agnarr, frustrated past words, drew his greatsword and just started hacking. As the door fell apart into smoldering kindling, they saw that the thugs had ganged up on the other side of the door. Tor sent one staggering back, trying to hold his intestines together. The others fell back cautiously into a defensive line.

Below, Elestra drove Arveth away and then dove for Tee. She managed to release a burst of healing energy into Tee’s torso just before the cultist arcanist hit her with a second blast of fire. Tee rolled to her feet, grabbed Arveth, activated her boots, and levitated up into the air.

Ranthir, looking out from his window above, threw a web, trapping the arcanist and webbing up the window of Tee’s room to stop additional reinforcements from escaping. The arcanist responded by twisting within the webs and hurling a magical epitaph in Ranthir’s direction. In a burst of flame, a black leopard with burning coals of fire for eyes and a throat of flame appeared before the rapidly backpedaling Ranthir.

The creature’s claws caught and tore at him as he stumbled back through the door into the hall. Ranthir cried for help, but Agnarr and Tor – fighting in the pervasive magical silence of Tee’s room – were oblivious to his need. Despite Seeaeti’s brave efforts to intervene, Ranthir collapsed in a gurgle of blood.

But Seeaeti was successful in keeping the fiendish leopard from finishing its work. Hounding the leopard, Seeaeti was able to draw it back into Tee’s room. There, the leopard earned the wrath of Agnarr when the barbarian saw what it had done to his faithful dog. Tor, meanwhile, was able to finish off the panicked and trapped cultist thugs.

Tee, now floating high above the street, tried to gouge out Arveth’s other eye. But Arveth caught her wrist and managed to twist the dagger around to scrape it painfully across her ribs on the left side. Twisting the knife free from Arveth’s grip, Tee almost managed to choke the life out of her—

Before the arcanist struck her in the back with another blast of fire. In the burst of pain, Tee’s vision turned black and her mind slipped away… her boots stopped working…

And they both plunged to the ground below.

Arveth managed to roll slightly with the blow, cracking several ribs and breaking an arm, but alive. The unconscious Tee, on the other hand, fell helplessly. There was a sickening crunch as her head struck first and her neck snapped.

With Tee dead, Elestra unconscious, and everyone inside the inn completely unaware of what was happening outside, Arveth easily escaped.

But only by mere moments. Seconds later, the others arrived in the street below. Healing potions were poured down Elestra’s throat and then she called upon the strength of the Spirit of the City to revive Tee.

PARANOIA IS BUT A FEAR UNPROVEN

The ambush had shifted something inside of Tee. Just a few hours before she had been counseling Tor on the virtues of compassion, but now she had no mercy for any of them. The thought of Arveth – her endless haughtiness; her insatiable cruelty – filled Tee with a silent rage, compounded by the flashing images of Wuntad; the abominations of the cults; and the humiliations and agonies that had been visited upon her, her friends, and the people of her city.

But Tee’s immediate thoughts were consumed by Nasira: If this attack was a retaliation for their assaults on the Rat God and Ebon Hand temples, Nasira would be in danger, too. While the others stayed for damage control at the Ghostly Minstrel, she and Agnarr raced out into Delvers’ Square and haled a carriage.

When they reached the Welcome Inn, however, they found Nasira unmolested. Looking at the still bruised and battered Tee, however, Nasira’s brow knit in concern. “What happened?”

Tee gave a quick summary of the ambush at the Ghostly Minstrel. “It might be best if you came back with us. There’s safety in numbers.”

Nasira agreed, if for no other reason than because she had befriended the innkeepers Markus and Valene Schuk. This friendly older couple and their daughters (Rona and Illene) had been the only people to make Nasira feel welcome in Ptolus before she had met the rest of them, and she had no desire to bring trouble to their door. Nasira explained the situation to them, promised to keep in touch, and paid her bill ahead for two more weeks. Then she and Tee joined Agnarr in the waiting carriage and headed back towards the Ghostly Minstrel.

At the Minstrel, meanwhile, Elestra had gone to tell Tellith of the attack. Tellith was shocked at first, but her shock quickly turned to outrage and then to apologies. After a few minutes, Tellith came upstairs with Elestra.

While Elestra had been talking to Tellith, however, the others had kept busy: Tor hauled the unconscious cultist arcanist into Ranthir’s room while the others looted the bodies of the thugs (on whom they found golden bell charm bracelets).

Elestra reassured Tellith that Tee was all right and had merely gone to check on a friend to make sure they were okay. Tellith realized that the watch needed to be notified and left to do so.

Meanwhile, the arcanist was roughly woken up and questioned. His name was Nikkei. He told them that the attack was in retribution for the betrayal of “Laurea” and the attack on the Temple of Deep Chaos. Once “Laurea” had been identified as Tee, it was a simple matter for them to find her at the Ghostly Minstrel.

Satisfied (more or less), they knocked Nikkei unconscious again and waited for the guards to arrive. Which they did shortly thereafter.

“Oh, it’s you again.” Naturally Tellith had gone to the watch station just across Delvers’ Square. And, naturally, they were blessed once again with the blustering fellow who they had first met after a shivvel addict had tried to mug Ranthir.

The watchmen questioned all of them bluntly and performed a cursory inspection of Tee’s room and the street outside.

“And where is the victim?” one of them asked with suspicion.

“I’m right here,” Tee said, walking up with Nasira at her side.

“And where have you been?”

“Checking on a friend.”

The watchmen were taking a generally hostile tone, but Tee wasn’t impressed with their bluster. Finally one of them blurted out, “Just don’t leave town.” Tor laughed and Tee rolled her eyes.

“We’re not planning on it. But I’m glad you’re so concerned for our well-being. What were your names again? I’d like to mention you to the Commissar next time I see him. I just want to tell him what a fine job you’re doing…”

The watchmen exchanged nervous glances and then backed down. Tee and Tor turned Nikkei over to them before they left (although Tee would have preferred to slit his throat first).

Once the watch were gone, however, they were forced to consider what Nikkei had told them: It was their worst fear, and only confirmed what Malkeen’s appearance in Tee’s room two weeks before had suggested. Not only were they known, but they could be found. And easily.

This left them with the tough choice of what to do next: Should they leave the Ghostly Minstrel? And if they did, where would they go?

Without any clear answers, they bedded down. Tee wanted no part of her own room again, and they all thought it wise to stay close through the night. Half of them slept in Tor’s room and the rest in Elestra’s suite.

THE DREAMS OF TEE & ARVETH – PART 1

That night Tee reached out through the Dreaming in an effort to infiltrate the dreams of Arveth. She hoped to plague them with nightmares of losing her remaining eye. Or perhaps falling forever. Or both.

Unfortunately Tee found her own thoughts conflicted, and Arveth’s dreams proved impenetrable. But she vowed that she would try again the next night. And every night, if necessary, if it meant that she could eke out at least a small slice of revenge.

Running the Campaign: What the Magic Looks Like – Campaign Journal: Session 41C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 41A: Dominic’s Denunciation

“I would ask your help,” Agnarr said. He pulled the body of the boy out of his bag of holding. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Perhaps,” Aoska said, examining the boy. “The damage runs deep. It will take us time to find a cure, if one is possible at all. And we would need to keep this collar upon him, to preserve him in his current state of stasis.”

Agnarr readily agreed. “Send word.”

The iron collar used to preserve the horrifically transformed child in a state of gentle repose is, if I say so myself, a pretty cool magic item. The players loved it. The flavor was fun, the aesthetic was punk, and the utility was phenomenal (in both keeping them alive and conserving their healing resources).

I hadn’t actually expected it to be such a big hit when I added it to the Laboratory of the Beast, but I was equally delighted by its presence in the campaign.

So why take it away from them?

Precisely because it was important to them.

And also because saving the life of the boy was important to them.

Taking a step back, one of your fundamental goals as a GM is to get the players to care about the campaign. Almost everything else is built on top of that. If they don’t care, then nothing else matters. But if you can get them to care about something – literally anything – in the campaign, then you can use that to get them invested: Outcomes suddenly matter. Consequences have meaning. The stuff they experience at the table will stick with them and they’ll be champing at the bit to come back and play again.

Care often works like a circle: The easiest thing to get a player to care about is their own PC. They invested personal effort into making the character; it’s quite likely they were creatively engaged during character creation; and the more they play the character, the more time they’ve personally invested in it.

It’s also usually pretty easy to grow the circle a little bit and get the player to care about the other PCs in the group: They’re directly connected to real people that the player is spending time with and likely already cares about.

Expanding the circle more than that, though, can feel like a quantum leap. You’re asking the players to care about things that don’t actually exist.

Tee insisted that Tor deal with it. He had been the one to kill them; it was his problem to solve.

“You’ve forgotten your compassion,” Tee said. “This place has made you hard.”

Tor nodded. “Sometimes you need to be hard to survive. I learned that from the horses.”

If the players can make that leap, though, the payoff can be huge. Your options for motivating them (and for motivating themselves) multiply exponentially. You can run far better horror games by putting things at risk other than the PCs’ life or death. Roleplaying will become richer and, as the players become invested in the stakes, more intense.

The other great thing is that this care can be viral: Once the players start caring about one thing in the campaign world, it will naturally lead to them carrying about other things.

You can also use this to your advantage: It can be hard to get them to care directly about some abstract idea (e.g., the Duchy of Kithos trying to win its independence from the Empire), but if you can get them to start caring about a character, then you can use that get them to care about the things that character cares about. (Or, if that care takes the form of loathing the NPC, then vice versa.)

So what I’m looking at in this session is a goddamn holy grail: The players have literally never even spoken to this NPC, but they have become emotionally invested in his fate and are willing to go out of their way to help him. Jackpot! This is what winning looks like!

Naturally, of course, the PCs now go looking for a way to help this NPC. When you see something like this happen at the game table, you might think to yourself, “Well, the last thing I want to do is discourage them! So I should make it as easy as possible for them to help the boy!”

Surprisingly, though, it turns out that this is exactly the opposite of what you want to do.

Which brings us back to the collar.

The collar is a cost. The players want to accomplish something and I’m making them pay a price to do it.

Vitally, this was a choice for them. If, I dunno, an astral vulture swooped out of the Ethereal Plane, grabbed the collar, and flew off, that would be meaningless. Even if Aoska, without announcing her intentions, had just zapped the collar out of existence and used its magical power to restore the boy, the effect wouldn’t be the same.

This cost is also not capricious, obviously. It flows logically from the narrative. As the GM, though, I could have declared that the Pale Tower had their own resources for dealing with the situation and let Agnarr take the collar with him.

But by imposing a cost, I’m forcing the players to demonstrate their care. I’m asking them, “Do you care enough about this to pay this cost?” Paradoxically, this makes them care even more. By paying the cost, they’ve become invested. The thing they’re paying the cost for – and, by extension, the game world as a whole – becomes endowed with value.

It turns out that this works even if they don’t pay the cost; if they had said, “No, this cost is too high. We can’t help this boy.” (Which is something that actually did happen earlier in the campaign when Tee couldn’t bear the cost of selling her house to save Jasin. Although in that case it was Agnarr’s player who proposed the cost; I didn’t even have to get my hands dirty.) In making the decision to pay or not pay the cost, the players have made a value judgment. Just making that value judgment gets them thinking critically about the game world (and their opinions of the gme world), which is enough.

This can work if the cost is just monetary. But it works even better if the cost is something more concrete than that – a specific person, organization, ideal, or, as in this case, object.

The fact that the cost, in this case, is also something they care about only enhances the result.  This is one of the reasons that care can become viral, but it’s also where the hard choices come from.

And the harder the choice, the bigger the payoff.

Campaign Journal: Session 41B – Running the Campaign: What the Magic Looks Like
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index