DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 29B: A Knight in Mourning

And then he knew what he had to do. This entire place reeked of evil and these creatures clearly had foul intentions. He and Rasnir had charged into battle. During the melee, the crone who had opened the door managed to duck through it. But moments later Kalerecent had fought his way to it and wrenched it shut.

“There was another flash of light and the door sealed shut behind me. But even in that moment, one of the creatures – a half-leonid fiend – slew Rasnir. I killed several of the goblins, but the other creatures escaped.”

A really common trope in D&D-style fantasy is the dungeon that’s been “sealed for a hundred years” (or a thousand or whatever). It’s a great trope because it makes the dungeon redolent with the enigma of age: Who knows what forgotten lore or antique treasures you’ll discover?

But then you go into the dungeon and there are three dozen different monsters who have all coincidentally moved in during the last week. It’s like Indiana Jones and the snakes in Raiders of the Lost Ark, except often without the clear explanation for where the goddamn snakes are coming from.

The reason this happens, of course, is because combat encounters are an expected part of the D&D dungeoncrawl, and “stuff to fight” is kind of the antithesis of “sealed for a hundred years.” You can use undead, of course, but that can get monotonous. And so the temptation to add a big ol’ hole in the ceiling and explain that a clan of yuan-ti moved in last Tuesday grows strong.

But so what? As long as you’ve got some sort of plausible explanation, there’s no problem… right?

Well, yes… but also no.

This sort of thing certainly can be done right. (The Mines of Moria, for example, have been “abandoned” for centuries in order to set up the twist that the balrog and goblins who sacked the place never actually left.)

But one of the really cool things about the “sealed for a hundred years” concept is that it means the PCs are the first ones to step foot here in a hundred years. It makes the PCs special. They’re doing something momentous. They’re experiencing something unique.

… unless, of course, a yuan-ti clan, a tribe of goblins, a couple of ogres, and a flock of kenku all casually beat them to the punch.

Then it’s not so special.

THE OTHER GUYS

But… combat! Gotta have combat!

Well, not really. But for the sake of argument, let’s roll with it.

A good way of squaring the difference here is to have another faction (or multiple factions) actively pursuing exploration/exploitation of the dungeon at the same time (and possibly for the same reasons) as the PCs.

That’s basically what you’re seeing with the Pactlords of the Quaan here. (Technically, the Pactlords were the ones who got here first and the PCs are the ones following in their wake, but that will shift back and forth as the campaign proceeds and different sections of this ancient dungeon are breached. The competition to be the first one to discover or enter a particular section of the dungeon can actually be a great motivator in its own right.)

I’ll be discussing how I actively played the various Banewarrens factions in more detail in future Running the Campaign posts. This first instance was fairly straightforward, and more or less taken directly from the Banewarrens campaign book: As described by Sir Kalerecent, the Pactlords had retreated, but (a) the lamia Demimach remained in Area 11 and (b) the rest of the team, with reinforcements, was planning to return. “Nevertheless, at some point while the PCs are in the [Broken Seal area], the rest of the Grailquest Team returns.”

Once the PCs were hooked into the Banewarrens, I simply added a section to my campaign status document:

BANEWARRENS STATUS

PACTLORDS: GQT1 has retreated from the Broken Seal area and will return shortly.

As I said: Short and sweet.

Now I had an open proactive event at my fingertips which I could choose to trigger at whatever time felt appropriate. As it played out during the actual session, this seemed most dramatically appropriate:

At that moment, Tee and Tor caught up. Seeing itself badly outnumbered and already seriously injured, the lamia turn and ran towards a staircase at the far end of the hall. It howled plaintively…

… and was answered by a second howl!

Howl for howl.

Campaign Journal: Session 29C – Running the Campaign: Looting Consumables
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 29B: A KNIGHT IN MOURNING

September 20th, 2008
The 16th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

“Who are you and why have you come to this evil place?”

Tee met the gaze of the angry, armored man. “You’re the one standing over a dead body. You first. What are you doing here?”

“Do not mock me, woman. Those I have cared for have died. Name yourselves and your purpose.”

The tension was palpable. Everyone’s nerves were raw. It wouldn’t have taken much for blood to be shed. The man raised his hand to the hilt of his sword.

Fortunately, this movement allowed Tee and Tor to spot the ring he was wearing on his finger – the signet of the Order of the Dawn. Tor moved into the room, carefully slipping on his own signet ring and positioning his hands so that the man could see it. “We’ve been sent to investigate what’s happening here.”

“What is happening here?” Tee asked.

The armored man dropped his hand from the hilt of his blade. As he relaxed, his entire body sagged with exhaustion and sorrow. “My name is Kalerecent. This was my friend and comrade, Rasnir. Two days ago we came to investigate reports I had heard of strange activity and the sound of digging coming from a mansion in Oldtown.”

They had followed the tunnel and entered the complex. When they arrived, there had been a half dozen strange and monstrous creatures gathered in the room with the “tower of brass and iron”. Kalerecent and Rasnir were badly outnumbered, and so they chose to wait and watch.

One of the creatures – a warped and twisted crone with skin the sickly green of swamp moss and hair like twisted vines – had taken a ring out of a velvet pouch and held it against the door. There had been a bright flash of light and the door had opened.

Kalerecent had not been able to hear what they were saying before, but now one of them spoke loudly: “Hurry, it won’t stay open long!”

And then he knew what he had to do. This entire place reeked of evil and these creatures clearly had foul intentions. He and Rasnir had charged into battle. During the melee, the crone who had opened the door managed to duck through it. But moments later Kalerecent had fought his way to it and wrenched it shut.

“There was another flash of light and the door sealed shut behind me. But even in that moment, one of the creatures – a half-leonid fiend – slew Rasnir. I killed several of the goblins, but the other creatures escaped.”

Dominic offered to heal Rasnir’s wounds, but Kalerecent shook his head. “It has been more than a day. His soul has left this world forever. I tried healing them myself before it was too late, but his wounds were too severe. And when I tried to carry him out of here, I was attacked by the half-leonid.”

Tor knelt beside him. “It may be too late to heal him, but he should still be borne back into the city with honor. May I help you carry him?”

Kalerecent gave a grateful yet mournful smile. “I thank you. But the half-leonid creature is still loose in the complex and the others might return, if they are not here already. The door must not be left unguarded.”

It became clear that Kalerecent felt that Rasnir had died to ensure that the door would not be breached. He wouldn’t allow that sacrifice to have been made in vain.

“And it makes sense,” Tor said. “Whatever they came to the Banewarrens to find, it can’t be good.”

“Aren’t we here to find something, too?” Dominic pointed out.

After discussing their options, they decided to track down the half-leonid creature while Kalerecent continued to keep watch over his friend and the door. Once that was done, Tor and Kalerecent could carry Rasnir’s body back to the surface while the others remained behind to keep a watch on the door.

THE LAMIA ROUTED

Kalerecent accompanied them back into the room with the warding generator. He was able to indicate which of the southern corridors the creature had fled through after their last confrontation. Then he returned to his vigil over Rasnir.

From Kalerecent’s description, Ranthir was able to identify the creature as a type of lamia – a rare and unnatural hybrid of human and lion. “It will be very fast and more than capable of using the claws on its lower limbs.”

The southern corridor led to a wide hall which widened before being abruptly interrupted by a 20-foot square pit. Four thick, rust-covered iron chains were hanging down into the pit, fastened to the wall with heavy bolts.

“It must have gotten to the other side somehow,” Tee said. “I’ll try climbing—“

A giant hand – at least five feet across at the palm — reached up out of the pit and grabbed the side.

“By the gods!” Tee drew her dragon pistol and fired, striking the hand. It reared back and then crashed down again. A moment later the giant levered its way out of the pit with a roar.

Ranthir released a bolt of arcane energy which caught the giant squarely in the chest. The blast seemed to leave a scorch mark, but from the interaction between bolt and body Ranthir’s trained eyes were able to catch the tell-tale marks of an illusion. He shouted out a warning to the others.

Once they had been warned, most of the others could see the illusion for what it was. But not Tee – her mind was still being fooled by it. “Are you sure?” she shouted, diving out of the way of a back-handed blow from the giant.

“I’m sure!” Ranthir shouted.

Agnarr moved up to the edge of the pit and looked down, but the dim light cast by his sword left the lower portions of the pit in deep shadow. A moment later, however, a bottle of fine crystal flew out of the pit and shattered on Agnarr’s chest.

As the bottle shattered, a magical whirlwind burst out of it – snatching Agnarr into the air and hurling him into the nearest wall.

Tee, seeing Agnarr walk through the illusionary giant, finally shook her belief in it. She moved up to the edge of the pit with her sunrod and looked down. At the bottom of the pit she spotted five different lamias. “Oh shit!”

She fired at one of them. The force blast struck… and the lamia disappeared. It was another illusion! With a snarling growl, the remaining lamias started climbing one of the chains out of the pit.

Ranthir tried to throw a flask of oil onto the chain, but his throw went wild and smashed uselessly into the wall. Tee tried to line up another shot, but the whirlwind came sweeping back the other direction and hurled Agnarr into her and her into the wall.

Seeing Tee caught up in the whirlwind, Tor quickly pulled out a length of rope, formed a lasso, and threw it around her. With a sharp tug, Tee came free.

The lamia, meanwhile, had nearly reached the other side of the pit. Tee, while struggling to untangle herself with one hand, snapped a shot off with the other – trying to break the chain the lamia was climbing. The shot hit the heavy iron chain, but didn’t break it.

The lamia reached the other side of the pit and ran for the door. Elestra and Tee fired with their dragon guns, but only succeeded in striking (and banishing) more of the illusionary lamias.

Agnarr turned and raced back out the door they’d come through. Dominic, who hadn’t even managed to get into the room yet, yelled to him as he passed by: “Have we killed it yet?”

Agnarr circled around and managed to intercept the lamia in the outer hall. The lamia spotted him and the two of them cautiously approached each other. Agnarr took a couple of jabs at the snarling creature, while narrowly avoiding its heavy paws.

Ranthir – who had followed Agnarr at a slightly slower pace – came around the corner and sent out a barrage of arcane blasts – leaving multiple scorch marks on the chest of the true lamia and eradicating the last of the illusory doubles. With the illusions gone, Agnarr was able to get his first clear look at the creature, noting the serious wounds already marking its flanks.

At that moment, Tee and Tor caught up. Seeing itself badly outnumbered and already seriously injured, the lamia turn and ran towards a staircase at the far end of the hall. It howled plaintively…

… and was answered by a second howl!

Running the Campaign: Abandoned Dungeons – Campaign Journal: Session 29C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 29A: Wraiths and Wards

The pedestal was made of stone and carved with a variety of tiny symbols. Atop the crystal, clutched in a claw-like sculpture of brass, was a purple-red crystal, glistening ever so slightly with its own inner light.

Tee crossed the chamber. She quickly estimated the value of the jewel-like crystal to be several thousand gold pieces at the very least. She set to work meticulously inspecting the claw-like sculpture and quickly discovered a pressure-operated trigger, designed to activate some device within the pedestal if the weight of the crystal was removed.

She had only barely started to disable the pressure trigger when a second wraith came screaming out of the crystal. As it passed over the top of Tee’s head it struck her twice – once on each shoulder – chilling her entire body and leaving flaming lacerations in its wake.

In this session, the PCs have an encounter with a malignant crystal which sustains purple wraiths: Whenever a wraith is slain, it is regenerated by the crystal. The only way for the PCs to “defeat” the encounter is to figure out where the wraiths are coming from and then destroy the crystal. If they don’t destroy the crystal, the wraiths will just keep coming.

Let’s call this clever combat. It refers to any combat encounter that the PCs can’t win (or can’t easily win) unless they do something clever. For example:

• There are stormtroopers firing through a one way forcefield. The PCs will need to figure out how to shut off the forcefield before they can defeat the stormtroopers.
• The goblins have a large crystal that can project a death ray guarding the entrance of their fortress. A frontal assault is technically possible, but it’ll probably be easier to figure out another way in, use an invisibility spell, or find some other clever bypass.
• It’ll be a tough fight against these cerberus spawn… unless the PCs realize they can break the dam and wash the hounds into the river.

D&D trolls are actually the OG clever encounter: Until you figure out that they need to be damaged with fire, they are absolutely terrifying. (This has been largely blunted in these latter days, where it seems this lore has seeped pretty thoroughly into the popular consciousness.)

Not every encounter needs to be a clever combat. In fact, they almost certainly SHOULDN’T be. It’s far better to deploy this sort of thing as a way of spicing things up from time to time.

The greatest thing about using a clever combat from time-to-time, though, is that it will condition your players to get clever in every encounter, even — perhaps especially! — the ones where you didn’t prep anything clever.

The only thing you need to do to encourage this is to not get in their way: If they come up with some clever way to upset the odds or peremptorily sweep an entire combat encounter off the board without breaking a sweat… For the love of the gods, LET THEM. The result will be far more memorable than slogging through another vanilla fight, and it will encourage them to keep coming up with more clever ideas in the future.

On the other hand, you can also flip this around: A typical group of PCs is a formidable foe. What clever ways can their enemies find to make handling them easier?

(The really great thing is that this tends to reflect into an infinite loop: A clever foe creates a threat that the PCs will, in turn, have to be clever to overcome.)

Campaign Journal: Session 29B – Running the Campaign: Abandoned Dungeons
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 29A: WRAITHS AND WARDS

September 20th, 2008
The 16th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

“Should we go upstairs or finish clearing this level?”

“Finish clearing the level,” Ranthir said. “You should always finish clearing the level.”

They returned to the rune-encrusted door in the entry chamber. As they passed through the door, however, Seeaeti balked, whining slightly. Agnarr decided to stay back with his hound. From there he could also serve as the rear guard.

Ranthir heard a small, sweetly feminine voice. “I don’t like this place.”

“… I think I’m hearing voices.”

Ranthir looked around with a rather worried expression on his face. But after a moment he realized it was Erinaceidae – his familiar. The bond between them had apparently grown strong enough for her to speak with him.

And the chamber beyond the door was making her very nervous. She scampered off Ranthir’s shoulder and clung close to Elestra’s light.

The only other exit from the chamber was an arch on the far side of the room. Tee approached it carefully, checking the floor for any traps or other protective devices that might be triggered by their presence.

She didn’t detect anything. But it didn’t matter: As she reached the arch, a purplish-red wraith swept out of the next room. Tee barely managed to roll out of the way. Elestra shouted for help. Agnarr came running.

The silence with which the wraith attacked was eery. But it proved to be easily dispatched. Once Tor and Agnarr had engaged it, it only took a few sweeps of their magical blades to destroy its ethereal substance.

They passed through the arch. The next chamber was nearly identical and equally empty, with another arch on the far side. They passed through this second arch and entered a third chamber.

This chamber was nearly as stark as the first two, but there was a pedestal standing on the far side of it. The pedestal was made of stone and carved with a variety of tiny symbols. Atop the crystal, clutched in a claw-like sculpture of brass, was a purple-red crystal, glistening ever so slightly with its own inner light.

Tee crossed the chamber. She quickly estimated the value of the jewel-like crystal to be several thousand gold pieces at the very least. She set to work meticulously inspecting the claw-like sculpture and quickly discovered a pressure-operated trigger, designed to activate some device within the pedestal if the weight of the crystal was removed.

She had only barely started to disable the pressure trigger when a second wraith came screaming out of the crystal. As it passed over the top of Tee’s head it struck her twice – once on each shoulder – chilling her entire body and leaving flaming lacerations in its wake.

After that first soul-searing scream, the wraith became as eerily silent as its predecessor. But it was just as easily dispatched, this time with a single swing of Tor’s sword. A moment later, Agnarr came running in.

“It’s okay,” Tor said. “It’s already dead.”

“If everything in the Banewarrens is this easy, we won’t have any problems down here,” Elestra said.

“Not if they keep coming,” Tee said.

“You think the crystal is creating them?” Tor asked.

“Or regenerating it.”

As they talked, Tee finished disabling the pressure device. But what should they do with it? Try to sell it?

“We can’t sell it if it keeps creating wraiths,” Tor said.

“True,” Tee said. “Ranthir, can you analyze its magical aura? Figure out if there’s some way—“

Another wraith tore its way out of the gem. It thrust its hand through Tee’s face – leaving five claw marks and a deep chill that left her soul-shaken in its wake (and suffering from a rather vicious migraine).

Agnarr, who had returned to the rear guard at the rune-etched door, came running. While the others dealt with the third wraith, he ran past them and swung at the crystal. The fragile gem shattered in a cascading wave of glass that swept down the entire length of the chamber. At the gem’s destruction, the wraith screamed in rage and whirled towards Agnar… who ripped it apart.

For her part, Tee was incensed at the loss of the valuable gem. (“And then… he broke it… He broke it! I couldn’t believe it… I just… Ah!”)

THE WARDING GENERATOR

They headed west through the entry chamber, passing through the door and entering a large chamber. In the center of the chamber a huge metal device like an iron tower topped with a brass sphere rose at least 30 feet into the air. A spiral staircase of wrought iron on the far side of the room led up to a catwalk of crosshatched grating encircling the device.

The central tower was a cylinder with a 10-foot diameter. A number of jointed metallic extensions, like the legs of an insect, extended out from the tower and connected to the ground or simply jutted out into the air at all angles. The sphere on top of the tower was approximately fifteen feet across. A series of curved, brass plates formed the skin of the sphere, with each plate bearing a single arcane rune etched into its surface. Here and there a few of these brass plates were missing, exposing an inner grid-like support network of metal bars. The missing plates gave the entire structure the appearance of something unfinished or perhaps damaged.

There were no other exits on the lower level. However, four halls – two to the north and two to the south – led away from the chamber on the catwalk level. Directly opposite the passage through which they had entered was another door, also on the catwalk level, which was similar to the rune-etched door leading to the wraith chambers – but larger and more finely detailed. Laying on the catwalk before the door were the dead bodies of several goblins.

While the other hung back, Tee did a sweep through the chamber to make sure it was safe. The goblins appeared to have been killed in combat, their wounds having been inflicted by the blows of a sword. But there were no visible threats in the room now.

Once Tee was satisfied that the room was safe, Ranthir moved in and began investigating the machinery. While she worked, the others moved into defensive positions around the room – watching the various entrances and exits with wary eyes.

Ranthir spent the better part of half an hour examining the device. Then he moved to the rune-etched door and spent nearly as much time there, before spending another few minutes cycling back and forth between the two. Once he was satisfied he called the others over to the door.

He started by pointing at several large runes arranged in geometric patterns across the surface of the door. “These runes, like the runes we saw before, are warding runes. But these runes—“ Ranthir pointed to smaller, more detailed runes that were worked into the larger pattern. “—are arcane resonance points. Like the ones we saw on the exposed walls, except these are actively resonating. But they’re more advanced than anything I’ve ever seen, and they’re interwoven with the warding runes in ways I don’t fully understand.”

He moved to the railing of the catwalk and indicated the device in the center of the room. “The entire tower is a technomantic device. More complicated than anything I’ve ever seen. I’m not entirely sure how it works or what it’s supposed to do, but it’s not working. As far as I can tell, it was never completed. If it was working, however, I believe it would function as a kind of warding generator – activating the arcane resonance points.”

“But I thought you said the resonance points in the door were already active?”

“In the door, yes. I suspect that there’s another warding generator on the other side of the door. The warding runes on the door are attuned to that device. And the effect is to make the walls and the door of the next section of the complex virtually impervious. I think this warding generator is attuned to the walls in this section of the complex.”

“What would happen if we activated this warding generator?”

“The arcane resonance points built into the walls would activate.”

“We’d be trapped?”

“Not as long as the hole we came through is still open.”

“What would happen if we activated the generator and then repaired the wall?” Tor asked.

“Then the complex would be sealed.”

“Couldn’t they just break in again?” Elestra asked.

“I don’t think so. I think the only reason they could break through the walls in this section of the complex is because the warding generator isn’t working.”

“So we need to fix the generator and repair the wall.”

Ranthir shook his head. “It’s not that easy. You have to understand, I can barely comprehend even the most basic functionality of this device. And it’s not just broken. There are pieces missing.”

“Wait a minute,” Elestra said. “Come look at this.”

Elestra had been watching the northeastern hallway leading out of the chamber. Down this short hall she had seen a room. A number of curved brass plates, similar to those forming the brass sphere at the top of the warding generator, lay on the floor. There were other oddly-shaped devices formed from strange metals laying on various work tables or hanging on the walls.

Ranthir spent several minutes studying the contents of this room. “I think it’s likely that these are the missing parts. And possibly various tool that would be required for installation. But there’s no way to know if all the parts are here. And it would probably take me weeks of study before it could be repaired.”

They opened the door leading to the next room. It was filled with broken and rotting crates. Between the stacks of crates a heavily armored man with long silver hair knelt beside the dead body of another man. As the door swung open the armored man looked up at them with eyes filled with rage.

“Who are you and why have you come to this evil place?”

Running the Campaign: Clever Combat  – Campaign Journal: Session 29B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 28C: Into the Banewarrens

Elestra, thinking quickly, fished a flask of oil out of her pack and threw it at the vermin-thing Tor was fighting. Agnarr stepped back, pivoted, and landed a blow with his flaming sword. The oil ignited and the vermin-thing was immolated by the wave of flames.

Tee stepped back and, drawing her own flask of oil, hurled it at the one Agnarr had just turned his back on. Agnarr whirled and a moment later there was nothing left of the creatures but two inky patches of burning grease.

The history of burning oil in D&D is something I find really interesting.

If you look back at the 1974 edition of D&D, there are two references to oil First, you can buy a “flask of oil” for 2 gp. (Most obviously intended to fuel the lantern, which appears immediately above it in the equipment list.) Second, you can use it as part of the Flight/Pursuit mechanics:

“Burning oil will deter many monsters from continuing pursuit.”

Okay, but what should happen if someone — whether monster or PC — should end up in the burning oil? The rulebooks are silent on this issue, but it seems likely that many GMs followed the same train of logic I did when making a ruling on this:

• How much damage should it deal? Well, all attacks deal 1d6 damage in 1974 D&D, so almost certainly 1d6.
• How large of an area does one flask of oil cover? Most the game defaults to 10 ft. increments, so a single 10-ft. square seems likely. (Enough to block a standard dungeon corridor.)
• How long does it burn for? Hmm. Probably more than just one round, right? 1974 D&D pretty reliably reaches for a six-sided die whenever it needs a randomizer, so let’s say it burns for 1d6 rounds.

This makes burning oil quite useful: It’s an area attack available to anyone willing to pony up the cash for it, and it’s incredibly useful for taking control of a battlefield or, as provided for in the rules, escaping from a fight that’s turned against you.

(Tangentially, in one of my D&D campaigns a PC invented a flash-burn oil specialized for combat: It cost 10 gp per flask and would deal 2d6 (take highest) damage, but only burn for 2d6 (take lowest) rounds. I gave it the name dragon’s milk. But I digress.)

The potential for abuse is, it should be noted, incredibly high if you (a) don’t enforce encumbrance and (b) don’t enforce any other consequences for hauling around huge quantities of highly flammable liquid. People will just throw oil all day with nary a care in the world.

It’s perhaps unsurprising to learn, given the efficacy and, frankly, importance of burning oil in D&D, that AD&D 1^st Edition spends much more time focusing on it. In fact, although the price of a flask of oil has dropped to just 1 gp, burning oil literally becomes a controlled substance on the Armor and Weapons Permitted table:

A number of protections against burning oil (like the resist fire spell) are also explicitly introduced.

And, of course, guidelines are given for many practical aspects of using burning oil:

• If you throw a burning flask of oil, it affects a 3’ diameter area, dealing 1d3 damage to everyone in the area (save vs. poison to negate). If you hurl a lantern, it only affects a 2’ diameter area.
• If it strikes someone directly, it deals 2d6 damage + 1d6 damage on the second round (and then burns out).
• Walking through or standing in an area of burning oil deals 1d6 damage per round and requires a saving throw to avoid being lit on fire.
• A lighted torch can be thrown to light an oil covered area (with guidelines for determining where it goes if you miss).

As with so many things in 1^st Edition, it’s an odd bag of contradictory details. (If you hit someone with oil, it burns out after 2 rounds. Should that rule also apply to “puddles” of oil that are lit? Is the 1d3 splash damage in addition to the 1d6 damage for standing in the burning pool? Or does a thrown flask of oil not create a pool and only creates splash?)

Regardless of the hazy parts here, it does generally appear that oil continues to be an effective method of performing an area attack. Nowhere near as powerful as a fireball, certainly, but far more accessible and flexible.

Let’s briefly detour over to the 1977 Basic Set. Here we find:

• 1 flask of oil can create a 5-foot-wide pool. It will burn for 10 rounds, dealing 2d8 damage per round.
• A creature struck directly with oil suffers 1d8 damage in the first round and 2d8 damage in the second round. (It’s then “assumed that the oil has run off, been wiped off, burned away, etc.) This is accompanied by a truly dizzying system for actually targeting the creatures. (You need to roll 11+, but then you adjust for Dexterity score, and also the height of the target.)
• You have to ignite oil AFTER throwing it. (You apparently can’t light it like a pipe bomb and then throw it.)
• Flaming oil will not harm non-corporeal monsters like wraiths and specters. It deals only half damage to skeletons, zombies, ghouls, wights, and mummies. Monsters that normally use fire weapons (e.g. red dragons, fire giants, hell hounds) are also immune.

We can see here that J. Eric Holmes did, in fact, follow a logic similar to my own (albeit with a smaller area affected and more damage afflicted). This version is more powerful than AD&D’s and would basically persist throughout the later version of Basic D&D (with the addition of a grenade-like, wick-fueled burning oil bomb to the equipment list).

LANTERN OIL DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT!

I don’t care.

Why are lanterns in D&D fueled with such an insanely flammable liquid? I don’t know. Maybe it’s harvested by alchemists from the glands of fire lizards and is absurdly cheap compared to other options, and house fires are a huge problem in this world. Or maybe the characters are carrying a bunch of different types of oil, and we just doesn’t worry about trying to figure out exactly which one is which.

The point is that D&D-style burning oil creates interesting gameplay and has strategic interest.

Although I will note that AD&D 2^nd Edition did make a point of distinguishing between “Greek fire” (10 gp per flask) and “lamp oil” (6 cp per flask; can’t be used offensively, but can sustain existing blazes).

THE BIG SHIFT

The big shift for burning oil in D&D starts with 3^rd Edition, which divided the weapon into alchemist’s fire (1d6 damage per round for two rounds, can’t be used as an area attack) and oil (5 ft. area, 1d3 damage, burns for two rounds; if thrown, only has 50% chance of igniting properly).

You can see how these rules were derived from AD&D, but the efficacy of oil as an area attack has been crippled.

4^th Edition’s treatment of oil is actually hilarious. On page 210 it says:

Here’s an overview of the contents of this chapter:

(…)

Adventuring Gear: The tools of the adventuring trade. Look in this section for everburning torches, flasks of oil, backpacks, and spellbooks.

Emphasis added. But guess what isn’t in the Adventuring Gear section of the Player’s Handbook? Guess what isn’t in the book anywhere at all?

Ah, 4th Edition. Never change.

D&D 4^th Edition Essentials did manage to remember to give a price for lantern oil, but I’m fairly certain there are still no rules for using burning oil as a weapon.

Burning oil makes a comeback in 5^th Edition, but remains quite weak:

• You have to light oil as a separate action or attack.
• It can cover a 5 ft. area, burning for two rounds.
• It deals 5 fire damage.

So… why was burning oil suddenly nerfed to, in some cases, no longer being a part of the game at all?

Partly I think it’s because of the expectation that encumbrance won’t be enforced, allowing PCs to haul around dozens of flasks of oil that can be deployed ceaselessly. Mostly, I think it’s fear of a mundane item “poaching” what spellcasters can do.

The irony is that you can look at a whole plethora of perpetual D&D design discussions:

• Non-spellcasters not being able to compete with the area attacks of spellcasters.
• PCs not being able to reliably retreat from battle, so players always fight to the death.
• A lack of dynamic control over the battlefield, resulting in boring combat.

… and burning oil is just sitting there waiting for somebody to notice it.

Honestly, I’ve had great results from just using my rulings from 1974 D&D:

• 10 ft. area.
• 1d6 damage per round.
• Burns for 1d6 rounds.

I recommend adding that and dragon’s milk to your 3^rd Edition and 5^th Edition campaigns.

Campaign Journal: Session 29A – Running the Campaign: Clever Combat
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index