DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 24B: The Meeting of All Things

As they discussed it, they realized that they had a wider need to take stock of what they had accomplished, analyze what remained to be done, and make some hard decisions – as a group – regarding what their immediate and long-term goals should be.

As the others returned to the inn, therefore, they gathered them together in Elestra’s room.

Tee asked the most important question: What are our immediate goals?

This week’s campaign journal is attempting to accomplish two goals.

First, it’s trying to capture the actual experience of the session, in which the players spent a significant amount of time poring over their notes, discussing their actions, and setting an agenda for the session to come.

Second, and perhaps more importantly, it is seeking to preserve the essence of that debate, its conclusions, and, for lack of a better term, its findings of fact so that they can be easily referenced by the players in the future. In other words, it’s more or less serving as the detailed minutes of the meeting.

Something to be aware of if you’re a GM writing a campaign journal like this, is that this actually takes a fair degree of delicacy. The difficulty is that they were attempting to figure out mysteries to which I already know the answers: In summarizing their thoughts and conclusions, therefore, it can be quite easy for me to subconsciously focus on the correct solutions.

For example, over the course of the conversation the group might make five different hypotheses about why Character X did Y. One of the five hypotheses is actually what’s happening. In summarizing that conversation for the journal (a process which, by its nature, streamlines the discussion), I could thoughtlessly trim away the superfluous hypotheses and only include the correct guess. (Because, after all, that’s the only important one, right?) In fact, without careful consideration and note-keeping, it can quite difficult to even remember what the other hypotheses were.

THE COLLATION

The meeting itself is of a type which I have found to be pretty much inevitable in any campaign featuring extensive lore books (the creation and use of which I discussed a couple months ago). Or, more accurately, any campaign in which extensive clues and lore have been encoded into handouts. At some point the density of this information reaches a point at which the players feel the need to organize it, collate it, and figure it out.

(Such meetings will sometimes trigger in other campaigns, but this is usually due to extensive recordkeeping by one or more of the players: Those notes become the hardcoded data store that needs to be sorted through and sorted out. For example, in my Castle Blackmoor open table, there was a session where all of the various PCs who had been mapping the megadungeon specifically scheduled a session where they could all get together, compare their maps, and figure out how to connect them into a larger, more definitive map.)

These sessions are, in my experience and without exception, fantastic. They can be particularly spectacular when the players all commit to carrying out the discussion in character, turning the whole thing into a tour de force of focused roleplaying that almost invariably deepens the players’ instinctual grasp of their characters while simultaneously immersing them deep into the lore of the campaign.

Oddly, I can rarely predict when one of these lore book meetings (as I’ve come to think of them) will break out. They often come when the players have run out of obvious threads to pull on, but can also happen when the players feel overwhelmed by the number of loose threads they have in hand. They almost always happen when the characters themselves are in a moment of quiescence, and are often triggered by just one or two players who decide that it’s time to “figure all this stuff out.”

I know some GMs who get antsy in sessions like this. I think it’s because they aren’t doing anything and it doesn’t seem as if the players are doing anything. I think this sensation is heightened because the GM knows all the solutions: Watching someone solve a puzzle you already know the solution isn’t exactly exciting, even though the person bending all of their brainpower upon the problem is, in fact, intensely engaged with it.

There may be times, however, when the group has truly run aground and you need to gently prod them back into motion. This, too, requires a light touch because, once again, you know the answers: It’s just not your place to push them in a particular direction. I know you’re excited for them to discover the incredibly cool thing you made, but your hints are almost certainly defeating the purpose of making it an engaging mystery in the first place!

Honestly, your job in these sessions is almost always to just sit back and enjoy the show, while perhaps occasionally helping players track down a particular prop or answer questions which their characters would know the answer to.

With that being said, though: Listen carefully! The players are going to drop a lot of clues for you in figuring out where the PCs are going next and what you should be prepping.

NEXT:
Campaign Journal: Session 24C – Running the Campaign: Back, Back to the Dungeon
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 24B: THE MEETING OF ALL THINGS

June 21st, 2008
The 11th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Having returned from the Pale Tower and the Brotherhood of Redemption, Tee pulled Ranthir aside and spoke with him regarding the golden key they had recovered from Pythoness House. It was the only direct connection they had to their missing memories, and Tee felt strongly that they should pursue it as rigorously as possible. She wanted Ranthir to research it at the Delver’s Guild Library as soon as possible.

But as they discussed it, they realized that they had a wider need to take stock of what they had accomplished, analyze what remained to be done, and make some hard decisions – as a group – regarding what their immediate and long-term goals should be.

As the others returned to the inn, therefore, they gathered them together in Elestra’s room.

Tee asked the most important question: What are our immediate goals?

IRON MAGE & THE HAMMERSONG VAULTS

Ranthir pointed out that they had only two firm commitments: The Iron Mage had asked them to collect a crate from the Freeport’s Sword on the 21^st. And, on the 27^th, they would gain access to their Hammersong Vaults.

Elestra, looking at the calendar, realized it was her own birthday. She had completely lost track of time.

Tee grinned, “My birthday is on the 14^th.”

THE GOLDEN KEY

Tee again raised the issue of the golden key, and the others agreed that Ranthir should research it as soon as possible.

“Should we use the key to open the Vaults?” Elestra asked.

Tee shook her head emphatically. “It’s too dangerous. It felt like it was draining the very life out of me. It could almost certainly kill any of us. Since we’re going to be able to access the vaults without using it, I think it’s better if we just wait.”

GHUL’S LABYRINTH

Dominic mentioned Ghul’s Labyrinth. “Should we finish exploring down there?”

“And there was still a lot of treasure we needed to recover,” Tee pointed out.

Ranthir pulled out the carefully executed map he had been drawing during their explorations. He pointed out the areas they hadn’t fully explored yet, including the sealed vault door they hadn’t been able to get past. “We could also get rid of the tainted items Mistress Tee is carrying.”

Tee emphatically agreed with that idea. And she was also in favor of taking the time to loot the more cumbersome treasures: Her own funds, in particular, were once again beginning to dwindle.

At this point Agnarr mentioned that he had just gotten back from the tunnels beneath Greyson House.

Tee was shocked. “What were you doing down there? Why did you go down there alone?!”

Agnarr quickly explained what his plan had been.

“You don’t speak goblin!”

Agnarr shrugged. “But I wasn’t the only one down there.” And he quickly explained what he had seen.

Ranthir pointed out that they had sold the location of the orrery, and that it was probably just workers from House Erthuo retrieving it. Tee agreed that it was likely, but they all agreed that they should confirm that sooner rather than later.

THE NIGHT OF DISSOLUTION

Then began the bulk of the evening’s work: The reading, sorting, and analyzing of the mass of paperwork – letters, notes, maps, books, and the like – that they had accumulated over the past several weeks.

Tee called their particular attention to the Night of Dissolution.

The first reference had been found among Helmut’s astronomical predictions: “The key is found. The lost shall be found. The night of dissolution comes when the barbarians arrive.”

Then a reference in Maquent’s journal from Pythoness House: “Radanna and her friends have become obsessed with the ‘Night of Dissolution’. They will speak of almost nothing else. They are convinced that the ‘coming changes have arrived’.” And later in the same journal: “The cultists say the hidden weapons will strike down their enemies on the Night of Dissolution. I no longer care. Their true future is too entwined with chaos to foretell with any accuracy. Perhaps what they say is true. I do sense great changes in the next few years.”

One of the minotaurs beneath Pythoness House had also said: “Ah, the Night of Dissolution is come at last!” As if they had expected to be awakened only when that night had come.

And in The Truth of the Hidden God, one of the chaos lorebooks they had discovered, the last few pages were a prophetic rambling of sorts, beginning with the words: “In the days before the Night of Dissolution shall come, our pretenses shall drop like rotted flies. In those days the Church shall be broken, and we shall call our true god by an open name.” The book went on to describe the faux religious practices for a fanciful “Rat God”, with the apparent intent that a church could be openly established for this “god”. Eventually, the prophecies say, even this “last pretense” would be abolished and “Abhoth shall be worshipped by all who are not blooded by the knife.”

“I’m worried that we’re somehow responsible for bringing about this ‘Night of Dissolution’… whatever it is,” Tee said. “We found the key. And the ‘Church shall be broken’, isn’t that Rehobath has done?”

“It sounds like an apocalypse,” Elestra said. “How can we be responsible for the apocalypse?”

“Well… Are we causing it? Or are we supposed to stop it?” Dominic asked. “Is that what we were trying to do?”

“Maybe the golden key is an essential part of whatever brings the Night of Dissolution about,” Tor suggested. “Maybe we were looking for the key in order to stop the cultists from doing whatever it is they’re doing.”

“If that’s the case,” Tee said, “Then Wuntad is going to come looking for it. And for us.”

“All the more reason we should get out of the Ghostly Minstrel,” Tor said. “Everyone knows we’re here. We should get a house. Try to find some place private.”

“We could move into Pythoness House,” Agnarr suggested.

“It would certainly give me room to study,” Ranthir agreed.

THE GALCHUTT

Studying the Truth of the Hidden God drew Ranthir’s attention to the Galchutt. The Brotherhood of the Blooded Knife, to which the cult manual was dedicated, practiced blasphemous rituals of human sacrifice. These sacrifices were dedicated to a Galchutt named Abhoth, who the cult venerated as the “Source of All Filth” and the “Lord of the Zaug”.

But the first time they had encountered the name Galchutt was in the final, fragmented pages of Morbion’s journal: “JUIBLEX. HE IS OF THE GALCHUTT. THEY ARE—“

And “Blades of the Galchutt” had also been inscribed on one of the chests beneath Pythoness House. Specifically, the chest containing two matched longswords of blackened steel with hilts carved in the shape of demons’ heads.

This discussion of the Galchutt made Tee remember something: The Book of Faceless Hate, the queer volume she’d discovered in Pythoness House and then forgotten about in the chaos which had followed. Ranthir set to work deciphering the hard-to-read text…

THE BOOK OF FACELESS HATE

No title marks the tattered, dark brown cover of this book. Its contents are written in a nearly illegible scrawl that could only have been born of hopeless madness. The first several pages of the book are covered in repetitions and variations of a single phrase: FACELESS HATE. (They wait in faceless hate. We shall burn in their faceless hate. The faceless hate has consumed me. And so forth…)

CHAOS: True chaos, or “deep chaos”, is a religion based on the fundamental aspects of hate, destruction, death, and dissolution. The philosophy of chaos is one of constant and endless change. It teaches that the current world is a creation of order and structure, but that it was flawed from the dawn of time due to the lack of foresight into what living sentience truly wants and need. The gods of creation – the gods of order – are untouchable and unknowable. They are aloof and uncaring, says the teaching of true chaos.

THE LORDS OF CHAOS: According to the book, the Lords of Chaos – or “Galchutt” – are gods of unimaginable power. But they are “mere servants of the true gods of change, the Demon Princes”. It is written that the Galchutt came to serve the Princes during the “War of Demons”, but while the Princes have “left this world behind”, the Galchutt still “whisper the words of chaos”.

VESTED OF THE GALCHUTT: Although they sleep, the Galchutt still exert some influence upon the world. This influence can be felt by the faithful through the “touch of chaos” and the “mark of madness”, but it can also be made manifest in one of the “Vested of the Galchutt” – powerful avatars of their dark demi-gods’ strength.

CHAOS CULTS: The book goes on to describe (but only in the vaguest of terms) many historical and/or fanciful “cults of chaos” which have risen up in veneration of either the Galchutt, the Vested of the Galchutt, or both. These cults seem to share nothing in common except, perhaps, the search for the “true path for the awakening of chaos”. The book would leave one with the impression that the history of the world has been spotted with the continual and never-ending presence of these cults – always operating in the shadows, save when bloody massacres and destruction bring them into the open.

All of this material suggested a connection between Morbion, the gods worshipped in Ghul’s Labyrinth, and the modern chaos cults.

DREAMING & CHAOS

Speaking of the worship of chaos, was there a connection between the Dreaming and Chaos?

When they had first awoken in their rooms, both Ranthir and Tee had in their possession copies of a work known as The Dreaming Arts. There were also their common experiences with the Dreaming Apothecary.

None of them were entirely sure what the Dreaming was, but they had also seen references to it in the Notes on the Corruption of Wa’tuel from the research material they had recovered from Shilukar’s laboratories. The exact nature of the “corruption” remained unclear, but there were references to a “theft of Dreams” and a “severing of the Dreaming” which would “result in an utterly alien character”.

Similarly, Shilukar’s Notes on the Blood of Ravvan had contained references to the Dreaming: Those suffering the “dreamless corruption” and “trapped in the Dreaming stasis” appeared to be “more receptive to the whispers of the Beast”.

This discussion reminded Tee and Agnarr of a notebook they had recovered from a reptilian sorcerer named Serrek Tarn in the adventures they remembered immediately prior to their amnesia. Amidst a mad scramble of mathematical notations and geometric enigmas, there had been several legible fragments, including:

“Lessons from the tainted dreaming” (written in a large bold hand near the top of the notes)

“Sessural is the depth and the circumference”

“The bastion of purity is not untouched. If it could be destroyed—then victory.”

“The shard has not been found.”

“The inner eye sees all, but all there is it does not see.”

“To see the blackness, one must look into their own soul. The blackness is of the body and the bone and the blood.”

“The dreaming must be made one with reality. The key is the sanctuary; the sanctuary is the key; and the apprentice of the One Who Speaks in Dreams shall be the master’s voice within the world. When he is made whole, the endtimes of the beginning shall renew.”

There seemed to be a connection between the chaos and taint of chaositech and the chaos and taint of the Galchutt. Was there also a connection between chaositech, the Galchutt, and the “tainted Dreaming”? None of them could guess.

SILION

Another name that they had multiple references to was “Silion”. They had first found this name in a letter recovered from Linech Cran’s office: Silion had written to Cran demanding delivery of a shipment (presumably of shivvel). The name Urnest, an associate of Silion’s, had also been mentioned in this letter.

The name had been mentioned again in papers recovered from Shilukar’s lair. A report from Shilukar’s minions had read: “We have been contacted through intermediaries by Silion. They have apparently obtained a bone of iron that requires repair. They inquire as to whether your services might be available?”

Who were Silion and Urnest? And had there been, as Elestra now suggested, some sort of connection between Shilukar and Cran?

This discussion also stirred Dominic’s memory: While discussing the results of their mission to Cran’s with Mand Scheben, Dominic had mentioned the name Silion. Scheben had noted that the name belonged to a lascivious and rather unkempt priestess who ran a small and disreputable temple somewhere down on the Street of the Gods. He had meant to follow up on it, but then Phon had disappeared and it had simply slipped his mind.

RAVVAN

Sifting through the papers from Shilukar’s lair brought Tee’s thoughts back to the Idol of Ravvan. She considered it to be a major threat, in no small part because the mention of it had clearly given Lord Zavere himself considerable worry.

“We should make it a priority to find the Eyes of Ravvan and the Idol of Ravvan.”

Everyone agreed… but they had no leads.

“Wait a minute,” Tor said. “Could it have been Wuntad who took the idol? The gardener we rescued said that a litorian was among those who had taken it.” And there was litorian among those following Wuntad when he had ambushed them at Pythoness House.

“It’s possible,” Tee nodded. But since they didn’t know where Wuntad was, either, it didn’t help much. Besides, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to find Wuntad. Their first meeting had ended poorly.

HELMUT’S PROPHECIES

They had found Shilukar by using the prophecies they had discovered at Helmut’s house. That alone made it clear that the prophecies had at least some validity to them. In the hope of finding similar insight, they turned their attention to the rest of these prophecies and collated the following commentaries on them: 

Sitting alone at night. H upon the scope of the sky. A slight flame comes out of the void and makes true that which should not be believed in vain.

H could be Helmut, the astronomer who “sits upon the scope of the sky”.

When the crowd gathers upon the hill in the oldest town, the new republic shall be troubled by its people. At this time the lord shall be weak.

This seemed like a clear description of the Riot in Oldtown. It had led them to the conclusion that Helmut was not just interpreting the prophecies, but working to bring them about or use them to his advantage.

In the world there will be made a king who will have little peace and a short life. At this time the ship of the Novarch will be lost, governed to its greatest detriment.

They theorized that “the ship of the Novarch will be lost” could refer to Rehobath declaring himself Novarch-in-Exile – although whether that referred to Rehobath or the Novarch in Seyrun was unclear. If “the ship” referred to the Church, then it could be assumed that Rehobath’s actions would not be to its favor.

Could “the king who will have little peace and a short life” refer to Dominic’s role in Rehobath’s ascension?

S shall find the golden statue while it still breathes. But the Idol of Ravvan brings doom. His lair lies beneath a vacant lot of brandywine.

This was the prophecy which had led them to Shilukar’s lair. The “golden statue” most likely referred to Lord Abbercombe.

They will be driven away for a long, drawn out fight. The countryside will be most grievously troubled. Town and country will have greater struggle. Salesia and Corinthia will have their hearts tried.

Salesia was the capital of Arathia and Corinthia lay on the eastern edge of the Southern Pass (a city-state jointly held by Arathia, Barund, and Seyrun).

The wands must be selected before the swords.

Ranthir had found a set of notes jammed into a book at Helmut’s house. These notes included the phrases “What are the staves of Ghul?” and “Asche shall deliver the Swords of the City”. Ranthir wondered whether this meant that the staves of Ghul needed to be selected before the Swords of Ptolus… whatever that meant.

The eye of Ravvan will be forsaken, when his wings will fail at his feet. The two of Ptolus will have made a constitution for Amsyr and Duvei, which the goblins will trample underfoot.

Duvei was an Arathian city-state. Amsyr was a Vennocan city-state. The identity of the “two of Ptolus” was unclear.

The Eye of Ravvan had been mentioned among Shilukar’s papers and associated with the Idol of Ravvan.

Ranthir raised the possibility that the goblins might “trample underfoot” simply by walking under their feet… in other words, to live underground. So this might be a reference to the Clan of the Torn Ear.

Arrived too late, the act has been done. The wind was against them, letters intercepted on their way. The conspirators were fourteen of a party. By the street of kings shall these enterprises be undertaken.

A reference to “brandywine” had led them to Brandywine Street. It was possible that the “street of kings” could refer to the King’s Road in the Nobles’ Quarter.

How often will you be captured, O city of the sun? Changing laws that are barbaric and vain. Bad times approach you. No longer will you be enslaved.  Great H will revive your veins.

The mimics have seen the lance. Doom.

When Tee had been struck by madness in Ghul’s Labyrinth, she had been left with two sentences burning in her mind: “The lance is being built. The runebearers will not come in time.”

The knights out of time shall move again. Their oath shall not be broken, though their dreams lie shattered like their city.

Tee wondered whether this might refer to the strangely armored figure they had seen on the street outside of Greyson House.

A coffin is put into the vault of iron, where seven children of the king are held. The ancestors and forebears will come forth from the depths of hell, lamenting to see thus dead the fruit of their line.

After combat and naval battle, the great ??? in his highest belfry: Red adversary will become pale with fear, Putting the great Ocean in dread.

The elves shall quarrel. Dark out of the depths. Blood shed under silver moonlight

Vehthyl and Itor, and the silver joined together. Beyond the depths of the Deeps, one will say the ether trembles.

Could the first sentence somehow be a reference to Dominic and Urlenius?

Ranthir knew that the Deeps were the mid-point of the Southern Pass. The city of Deeptown lay near their center.

The rune born of crime (DB???) will walk the clouds.

This prophecy had led them, inadvertently, to Dullin Balacazar and the unknown catastrophe which had beset the Cloud Theater. (“And let’s not do that again,” Tee said.)

When they will be close the lunar ones will fail, from one another not greatly distant. Cold, dryness, danger towards the frontiers, Even where the oracle has had its beginning.

The key is found. The lost shall be found. The night of dissolution comes when the barbarians arrive.

Could the key refer to the key they had found in Pythoness House? Could “the lost shall be found” refer to their memories?

“And is Agnarr the barbarian?” Dominic said.

“Well, he’s large,” Tee said. “But I don’t think he’s large enough to count as multiple barbarians.”

“Then perhaps the night hasn’t quite started yet if we aren’t the barbarians this refers to,” Ranthir said.

The warrens are opened. Great evil pours forth. No seal may be found while the heart remains untouched.

Could this be a reference to the Banewarrens? There had been two references to them before: The schematics for a “Drill of the Banewarrens” that they had discovered in Ghul’s Labytinth. And the Prophecy they had found scrawled on the wall of Pythoness House: “The Saint of Chaos shall return and the Banewarrens shall ope their maw. And the name of doom shall be Tavan Zith.”

Within the closed temple the lightning will enter, the citizens within their fort injured. Horses, cattle, men, the wave will touch the wall, through famine, drought, under the weakest armed.

THE SEALED BOX

Although they had identified the golden key from Pythoness House as their only connection to their lost memories, they realized that there was another: The sealed box that Ranthir had found in his room after waking up with amnesia.

It was an enigma. And like any lock she couldn’t open, it seemed to be taunting Tee.

But Ranthir hadn’t entirely forgotten it, either. He had been preparing more powerful spells that could be used to unlock the chest… but they didn’t work, either.

They decided on two courses of action for the next day. First, Ranthir would go to the Delver’s Guild Library and research the golden key.

The rest of them would go down into Ghul’s Labyrinth and check on whoever was down there. After Tee’s equipment from the Dreaming Apothecary arrived, they would return to Ghul’s Labyrinth and open the doors that had previously eluded her skill.

“And if nothing else, we’ll have finished something,” Agnarr said.

NEXT:
Running the Campaign: Lore Book Meetings– Campaign Journal: Session 24C
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 24A: The Squire of Dawn

Sir Kabel returned the bow with a nod and then sat down on the couch, motioning Tor to a nearby chair. “Sir Torland of Barund, if I remember correctly? We spoke of horses at Harvestime, did we not?”

“Yes, but I am no knight, sir.”

“Truly?” Sir Kabel raised his eyesbrows. “Yet you bear a sword at your side and you carry yourself like a warrior.”

“I am trained in the blade,” Tor said. “But I belong to no order.”

“Would you like to?”

In this week’s session, Tor makes a choice about which order of knighthood to approach in his quest to become a knight. This might be a good time, therefore, to do a call back to an earlier Running the Campaign essay, “An Interstice of Factions,” in which I looked at how and why I’d set up this choice in the first place.

I honestly have no idea how things might have played out if Tor had instead selected the Knights of the Golden Cross or the Knights of the Pale. But as you can see in the campaign journal (although Tor really doesn’t), Sir Kabel had not only become aware of Tor’s martial prowess, he also had political motivations for keeping Tor close to him. As a result, Tor’s entrance into the order is heavily accelerated as he moves almost immediately into almost informal Trials of Arms, which are what I’d like to discuss today.

UNUSUAL RULINGS

“I’ll rest on little ceremony here,” Kabel said. “This is your First Trial of Arms. We’ll begin with the Test of the Blade. Strike me. If you can.”

Tor attacked… and Kabel easily parried the thrust. “Good form. Controlled, yet fierce.”

Tor feinted to the left and then slashed to the right. Kabel almost completely ignored the feint and easily parried the slash, but Tor deflected his blow and plunged the point of his blade toward’s Kabel’s chest. Kabel was forced to twist his own sword in order to parry the follow-thru. “Excellent!”

Tor backed off half a pace and then quickly brought a strong blow down directly towards Kabel’s head, but Kabel was quick enough to shift his footwork, right his form, and block the blow.

“Enough!” Kabel cried, disengaging. “Now for the Test of the Shield. Defend yourself!”

A lot of mechanics in RPGs are clearly designed for one specific implementation, and this can often be seen quite clearly with combat mechanics. One of the great things about having a GM who can make ruilings, though, is that even these mechanics can be creatively turned to new uses when the occasion calls for it.

In this case, for example, I plucked attack rolls out of the combat system and structured them as a series of checks which included parsing some mechanical failures into partial successes – i.e., attacks which could impress Sir Kabel even if they were not, in fact, successful at striking him.

The cool thing about using mechanics in unusual ways – instead of just doing some ad hoc fiat – is that (a) the player still feels like they’re in control of the situation because they can apply their mastery and understanding of the rule system and (b) the GM can also continue to use the supporting infrastructure around those mechanics to support and enhance their rulings.

For example, I was able to use my house rules for fighting defensively to increase Sir Kabel’s effective AC (since he was entirely focused on parrying Tor’s blows). Conversely, Tor’s player realized she could do the same, using the Aim ability on Tor’s final attack.

PLAYER-FACING MECHANICS

Tor loosed the shield from his back and lowered himself into a defensive posture. Sir Kabel unleashed a withering flurry of attacks, and although Tor blocked many of them, Kabel’s sword seemed to constantly find the weak points in his defense.

After several exchanges, Kabel stepped back again. “I’m impressed. It’s clear you have had little formal training, but your instincts are strong and you have clearly been tested by the true heat of battle. The Order would be honored to have you serve as its squire.”

The other thing I did here was shift to a player-facing defensive roll when Sir Kabel moved to the Test of the Shield.

A player-facing mechanic involves the player always being the one to roll the dice: If a PC is attacking, the player rolls the attack dice against a static target number representing the target’s defense. If the PC is defending, on the other hand, the player makes a defense roll against a static target number representing the attacker’s skill.

(A system where both the attacker and defender roll on each attack is NOT player-facing; that’s dual-facing. D&D attacks are generally neither, with the attacker always being the one to roll.)

A player-facing mechanic can have advantages in both practice and design, but perhaps the biggest advantage is psychological: Even though the mathematical effect of a player-facing mechanic can be utterly irrelevant, we nevertheless associate rolling the dice (i.e., an action taken at the table) to the action of the character for whom the dice are being rolled; it feels as if that character is the one in “control” of the outcome.

This is also due to the variability of the dice: If I roll for the attacker but not the defender, then the defender’s outcome is constant. Ergo, our subconscious assumes that success or failure is entirely dependent on what the attacker did – on the variability of their outcome.

(I talk about this effect a bit more in “The Design History of Saving Throws,” and also how you can consciously choose to break this psychological default when narrating outcomes in The Art of Rulings.)

Long story short, I deliberately chose to have Tor make a player-facing defensive roll — rolling 1d20 + AC modifiers vs. Kabel’s attack bonuses + 10 — because it centered Tor as the most important character in that moment.

And, of course, the player rolling the dice is the one actually engaged in the resolution, and you can see that quite clearly in this example: If I’d followed the normal mechanics and rolled Kabel’s attack rolls during the Trial of the Shield, Tor’s player would have just sat there watching me roll dice and narrate outcomes. Having the player roll the dice, regardless of any other factors, simply made for a more satisfying game play experience.

NEXT:
Campaign Journal: Session 24B – Running the Campaign: Lore Book Meetings
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 24A: THE SQUIRE OF DAWN

June 21st, 2008
The 11th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Tor left the Ghostly Minstrel and turned north towards the Temple District, heading towards the Outer Cathedral. In the three weeks since he had come to Ptolus, he had felt a deep frustration growing in his heart. He had left his home and his family to become a knight and follow the path of honor. But he had found little of the certainty he had hoped for traveling with these strange companions that the mage Ritharius had sent him to. They were good people – of that he was certain, although there had been times when he had doubted – but they seemed lost in a time when he desperately needed direction.

And so he was intent in seeking out Sir Kabel Dathim, the leader of the Order of the Dawn. He had seen Sir Kabel’s cold reaction to the proclamations of Rehobath and this had, for whatever reason, created some sense of trust in him.

When he arrived at the Cathedral, Tor spoke with one of the lesser priests and was led to Sir Kabel’s quarters. The priest knocked on the door, entered, and returned only moments later to usher Tor forward and shut the door behind him.

Sir Kabel’s quarters were small, but well-furnished. An inner door led to what was most likely a bedroom, and the main chamber into which Tor stepped served as both an office and a lounge of sorts. Sir Kabel was sitting at his desk, but as Tor entered he closed a thin ledger, rose, and crossed towards the couch.

“Sir Kabel.” Tor bowed deeply. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

Sir Kabel returned the bow with a nod and then sat down on the couch, motioning Tor to a nearby chair. “Sir Torland of Barund, if I remember correctly? We spoke of horses at Harvestime, did we not?”

“Yes, but I am no knight, sir.”

“Truly?” Sir Kabel raised his eyesbrows. “Yet you bear a sword at your side and you carry yourself like a warrior.”

“I am trained in the blade,” Tor said. “But I belong to no order.”

“Would you like to?”

Tor couldn’t contain the grin which erupted across his face. “That’s why I’ve come to you!”

But now Kabel’s face, which had been drawn in thought and consideration, became clouded with suspicion. “You’re in league with the Chosen of Vehthyl, aren’t you?”

Tor’s grin dropped away and he chose his next words carefully. “He has recently been my companion.”

“How recently?”

“A few weeks.”

“And what do you think of the Novarch-in-Exile?” Kabel couldn’t keep the contempt out of his voice.

“I think he’s dangerous,” Tor said plainly. “And I don’t trust him. I don’t think Dominic trusts him, either.”

“And yet he stood at Rehobath’s side.”

“He didn’t know what Rehobath was planning. None of us did.”

Kabel nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think Dominic is truly the Chosen of Vehthyl?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he knows.” Tor shrugged. “But he bears the signs. That’s no trick.”

Kabel grunted and then stood up. He circled behind the couch and began pacing, his words coming thoughtfully. “I don’t trust Rehobath. He claims to speak with the voices of the Gods, but the Gods speak through the Church and he would raise himself against it. I serve the Church. Not him.” He turned to Tor. “I’m not sure what to make of your friend, either. I would squire you into the Order of the Dawn, but as part of that I must ask you to keep a wary eye on Dominic.”

Tor frowned. “I won’t betray my friends.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Kabel said. “Are not two of my men – men who are more loyal to Rehobath than me – already standing guard at the Ghostly Minstrel? And you can be sure that those are not the only eyes that Rehobath has on him. I am only interested in making sure that Dominic himself does not turn against the Church.”

Tor had to think deeply, but in the end he believed that what Sir Kabel said was true. Or, at least, true enough. “I can agree to that.”

“Then come with me.”

Sir Kabel led Tor out of the Cathedral and into the large complex of Church-owned buildings just to the north.

This complex was capped by the Godskeep, which housed the Order of the Dawn. At first, Tor thought he was being taken there, but instead Sir Kabel stopped in the small practice field just outside the keep’s southern gate.

A handful of knights were scattered here and there, practicing or skirmishing. Sir Kabel went over to the racks of practice weapons and pulled down two wooden swords. He tossed one of them to Tor. Tor caught it out of the air.

“I’ll rest on little ceremony here,” Kabel said. “This is your First Trial of Arms. We’ll begin with the Test of the Blade. Strike me. If you can.”

Tor attacked… and Kabel easily parried the thrust. “Good form. Controlled, yet fierce.”

Tor feinted to the left and then slashed to the right. Kabel almost completely ignored the feint and easily parried the slash, but Tor deflected his blow and plunged the point of his blade toward’s Kabel’s chest. Kabel was forced to twist his own sword in order to parry the follow-thru. “Excellent!”

Tor backed off half a pace and then quickly brought a strong blow down directly towards Kabel’s head, but Kabel was quick enough to shift his footwork, right his form, and block the blow.

“Enough!” Kabel cried, disengaging. “Now for the Test of the Shield. Defend yourself!”

Tor loosed the shield from his back and lowered himself into a defensive posture. Sir Kabel unleashed a withering flurry of attacks, and although Tor blocked many of them, Kabel’s sword seemed to constantly find the weak points in his defense.

After several exchanges, Kabel stepped back again. “I’m impressed. It’s clear you have had little formal training, but your instincts are strong and you have clearly been tested by the true heat of battle. The Order would be honored to have you serve as its squire.”

Kabel drew out a ring marked with the sigil of the Order of the Dawn and gave it to Tor.

Tor’s heart leapt. It was the dream he had sought, but scarcely hoped for. He quickly made arrangements with Sir Kabel to return once every other day for his training, and then made his way back towards the Ghostly Minstrel.

AGNARR’S ABORTED MISSION

Agnarr headed across Delver’s Square to Ebbert’s and purchased a variety of supplies, particularly a large bulk of raw meat and other food supplies. Loading all of it into his bag of holding, he set out for Greyson House: His intention was to travel down to the caverns of the Clan of the Torn Ear, gift them with the food supplies, and then practice sparring with them. The fact that he spoke none of their tongue dissuaded him not at all.

Once he made his way into the tunnels beneath Greyson House, however, he found them unexpectedly disturbed: The pit of chaos had been covered over with a thick layer of stone… albeit a layer of stone which now seemed to be slowly bubbling and boiling away as a result of the powerful forces of primal chaos trapped beneath it.

Agnarr doused his flaming sword and proceeded carefully down the hallway. As he approached the complex where the bloodwights had nested, he heard many voices and the muffled sounds of some activity.

Toying with the idea of brazenly entering the complex and confronting the intruders, Agnarr instead decided for prudence. He retreated silently back to Greyson House and returned to the Ghostly Minstrel.

NEXT:
Running the Campaign: Player-Facing Mechanics – Campaign Journal: Session 24B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING:
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 23F: The Pale Tower

At last, Aoska brought them before great valves of silvered adamantine. She turned to them then and said, “You shall have audience with Sephranos, the First Among the Chosen.”

At her touch the doors parted and opened, revealing a hall of ivory and gold. Atop a dais at the far end, upon a throne of mithril, sat a gold-skinned man with white-feathered wings. His eyes were pits of pale blue fire shining out from a face both regal and welcoming.

Aoska approached him and whispered into his ears, and then his eyes were turned upon them. And, most particularly upon Dominic.

“We are honored to give audience to the Chosen of Vehthyl.” Sephranos smiled and turned his gaze to all of them. “We thank you all on the behalf of Edlari. We were saddened to see him leave us once again, but glad that he is now free to find his own path again. What boon would you ask of us?”

When the dungeoncrawl is done, it’s time for the PCs to deal with the lingering legacies and unresolved elements of the dungeon. This is a kind of epilogue which, structurally, you’re going to repeatedly experience when playing or running roleplaying games.

The simplest version – which is more or less the default – is just liquidating your loot. If all you’re hauling out of the place are coins and gems, this can be a purely routine transaction that’s quickly dispatched with. But even in this simplistic form, , I think this still functions as a primitive yet important narrative beat: The primary purpose of the epilogue is to provide closure, and even something as simple as divvying up the treasure can accomplish that; can definitively declare, “We have done this thing and this thing is done.”

However, one of the reasons I like including treasure in more exotic forms (besides flavor, immersion, and highly effective worldbuilding) is that the logistics of realizing its value can create an opportunity for intriguing entanglements. And, as you can see in the example of Pythoness House, in a fully realized scenario this will naturally extend far beyond simply treasure. In addition to selling their spoils and spending their new wealth, the PCs had to deal with:

• The lingering effects of Freedom’s Key (plus what to do with the key itself)
• The tainted items
• The Cobbledman
• Meeting Edlari at the Pale Tower

Figuring this out saw the PCs forging new alliances, gaining new resources, and setting up future scenarios. All of these things will either have a dramatic impact on how events play out for the rest of the campaign, provide an interesting crucible for roleplaying, or both.

In other words, what emerges from these logistics are stories. And when I see GMs skipping past these logistical concerns, what I see is not only a failure to provide proper closure for the previous adventure, but also a failure to properly plant the seeds for the next adventure.

Some of these elements will emerge naturally from your prep. For example, I couldn’t be certain that the PCs would free Edlari, but I knew that if they did he would extend them an invitation that would almost certainly pull them to the Pale Tower (where I could reincorporate Aoska, who they had met previously).

On the other hand, in a well-designed dungeon there’ll almost always be unanticipated fallout. For example, I had no idea that they would befriend the Cobbledman or take such care to help him seek aid from the Brotherhood of Redemption. In fact, I thought it quite likely that they would end up fighting and killing the Cobbledman.

Conversely, we could imagine an alternate version of reality where the PCs ended up befriending the ratlings in Pythoness House (instead of slaughtering them) and ending up with a potentially very useful gang of allies.

Which I guess is largely my point here: As with any other good scenario, the players should be making meaningful choices. These choices should, pretty much by definition, have meaningful consequences, and the logistical epilogue is where we begin to discover and define how these consequences are going to spill out of the scenario and into the ongoing campaign.

Which, in my opinion, is kind of inherently interesting.

How much time you spend resolving the logistical epilogue depends on how many consequences are spilling out of the dungeon and, of course, how complicated dealing with those consequences proves to be.

Pythoness House, for example, was a dungeon of moderate scope. Over the course of several visits intermixed with other events, the ‘crawl spanned a total of four sessions. I wasn’t recording my sessions yet, so I’m not sure exactly how long we spent in the dungeon, but it was probably twelve to fifteen hours in total. The logistical epilogue probably took up another thirty to forty-five minutes of playing time, while also incorporating some background events and other miscellaneous business the PCs wanted to take care of.

NEXT:
Campaign Journal: Session 24A – Running the Campaign: Player-Facing Mechanics
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index