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Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

HARVESTTIME – PART 1: TOR AT THE TOURNEY FIELDS

PBeM – November 12th through December 1st, 2007
Harvesttime in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

The next day, despite the weariness with which they had collapsed, they all awoke bright and early – looking forward to the festivals of Harvesttime and a day of rest and relaxation before attending the party at Castle Shard that evening.

Agnarr went looking (unsuccessfully) for a dog. And Elestra took simple joy in wandering the streets of the city. But for many of the others, the day held new wonders and discoveries…

TEE AND TOR – BREAKFAST CONFESSIONALS

Tor, knowing that Tee was always the first among them to rise, made a point of waking particularly early and heading down to breakfast. He wanted a chance to speak to her without the others around.

Ptolus - The Ghostly MinstrelHe went to the kitchen first, grabbing a salad of the seasoning grasses that had been steeped in the juices of last night’s roast; a dollop of fresh cream; and a cup of black coffee. He wasn’t sure what he thought of these Arathian meals, yet, but he had never been one to be choosy.

Heading into the dining room, he found Tee sitting alone. He joined her, eating his breakfast in silence for a minute or two.

Then, without pausing or looking up at Tee, he said, “Did you mean what you said, about going back to help those goblins?”

Tee thought about it for awhile, picking at her food. Then she sighed lightly and said, “I don’t know. While I think that they could use our help, and would not mind providing assistance necessarily, I am not sure if that is the best course of action for us to take at this time.  I suppose it depends on how much more exploration we choose to do of the underground area – it might be useful to have the goblins as allies if we plan on being down there more.”

She fell into silence for a moment, before hestitantly asking, “Do you have something against helping the goblins in general, or was there something else that made you walk away?  I do not like to pry, Tor, as I myself am a very private person, but we find ourselves in a situation where I think it would do us good to be more forthright with our intentions.” (more…)

 IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 11C: A Weary Twilight

Some sixth sense warned Agnarr of the threat. He began to turn, but it was late: The duskblade’s sword lashed out.

As I mentioned a few weeks back, one of the things I did while prepping this campaign was to do a survey of published modules (most notably a large swatch of Dungeon Magazine) looking for really cool scenarios that I could slot into the campaign.

Another survey I’ll do when prepping a new D&D campaign is a wide swath through my myriad bestiaries. This is something I’ve been doing since I was like eleven or twelve years old, and I find it really effective: There’s nothing like a well-written (and well-illustrated) bestiary to spur the imagination in unexpected directions, and one of the great things about 3rd Edition is that, with third party support, there’s never been a game with such a ridiculous wealth of such resources.

The stage where I’ll do my bestiary survey is generally after I’ve sketched in the broad strokes of the campaign: For example, I might know that a campaign is going to feature a lot of overland travel through a decaying empire; a delve into an abandoned dwarven city; some island-hopping in piratical waters; and then a journey through a portal into hell.

This focuses my attention: I’m not just looking for generically cool monsters; I’m specifically looking for stuff that will be useful (and also cool). The entire point, of course, is still to flesh out material in ways I hadn’t anticipated (which is how I discover that the abandoned dwarven ruins have been taken over by an expedition of dark dwarfs, perhaps), and I’m also hoping to be inspired to include truly unexpected dimensions to the campaign as a result of this material. But every survey ends up being different, even when it’s revisiting the same books, because with every survey I’m looking at the books through a different lens. It can actually be quite exciting to discover new aspects of a book simply by virtue of approaching it from a fresh angle.

This is where Ursaal and the caste of assassins known as the duskblades came from in this scenario: Ursaal is a hobgoblin warcaster from Monster Manual V, and the duskblades are hobgoblin duskblades from the same. I tagged the whole Hobgoblin section of that book as a potentially useful resource because it contained a number of stat blocks for hobgoblins with class levels, so it was easy to reach in and grab them as the need arised.

Wait a minute… hobgoblins? I thought these were goblins!

First, as I’ve mentioned before, I really won’t hesitate to use a stat block for one thing to model something else that it’s appropriate for. If I need to tweak one or two things to make it work, great. But more often than not, even that’s not necessary.

Second, and this is something I may discuss at greater length on some other occasion, I’ve never really gotten a lot of personal utility out of having ninety thousand largely indistinguishable humanoids wandering around. In fact, as a general principle of reincorporation, I find it much preferable to take disparate cultural elements and look at them as being different facets of a single race, rather than splitting every cultural distinction into a separate genetic pool.

In the case of the Western Lands campaign setting where my version of Ptolus is located, this translates to virtually every “bad guy humanoid” getting grouped into either the goblin race or the kobold race. (And why keep that distinction? Primarily because the latter are related to dragons, and that’s an important distinction for deeply ingrained historical reasons.) Even ogres are actually just really big goblins in this world.

The memetic gestalt of D&D being what it is, over time (and many, many campaigns) my “hard line” on this sort of thing has frayed a bit. Halflings, for example, were not originally part of the Western Lands, but they started creeping in when I had a player who cared far more passionately about playing a halfling than I cared about not having halflings in the setting. I had them living in isolated villages on the islands of the Teeth of Light; but once they existed at all it became easy enough to just leave them in situ when using published adventures. (This is particularly true in coastal regions near the Southern Sea, which includes Ptolus. So you’ll see a number of them popping up from time to time throughout these campaign journals.)

Ptolus has also seen ratfolk added to the tally of humanoids, as they are quite pervasive in Cook’s material. They have not yet escaped the confines of In the Shadow of the Spire, so time will tell whether or not they are truly permanent residents of the Western Lands, or merely strange visitors (perhaps the product of Ghul’s laboratories).

Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 11C: A WEARY TWILIGHT

November 11th, 2007
The 30th Day of Amseyl in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

THE RAINBOW LAKE

In the sudden stillness which pervaded the cavern, things looked bleak. Without the stress of combat the torturous nausea diminished, but their wounds were grievous. Itarek had merely been knocked unconscious, but even after the soothing of Dominic’s divine ministrations he still oozed blood from countless wounds and moved with the stiff pain of torn muscles.

Itarek looked down at the body of his warrior which lay near by and with a weary voice asked, “Can you heal him?”

Dominic looked at the body — its skull caved in and its chest mangled — and shook his head. “No. There’s nothing we can do.”

Itarek nodded. “We must leave. Tend to our wounded.”

Tee, who had been prepared to argue for precisely that, quickly agreed. But Ranthir suggested that they should take a look — a cautious look! — further down this passage. They may be in poor condition, but knowing what lay ahead might better inform their decision.

Tee nodded and, while the rest of the group quickly stripped the duskblade’s body of anything that looked remotely interesting or valuable (taking particular note of a finely crafted sword, steel shield, and chain shirt), she slipped quietly through the shadows ahead of them. (more…)

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 11B: Garden of the Sickstone Elementals

The arrow flew straight and true, striking one of the goblins in the back of the head. The pure force of Tee’s draw smashed the arrow through the creature’s skull, so that the tip of it emerged out of its eye.

If you’ve been reading these campaign journals for awhile, one of the things you might have noticed is that Tee frequently shoots enemies through the eye.

Is this some sort of special feat? Or does the player just like making called shots?

No. It’s nothing mechanical. It’s just how I ended up describing some of her kill shots. This started all the way back in the prelude sessions:

After defeating them (Tee skewering one through the eye and Agnarr cleaving them both in twain)…

But another of the reptilians walked in and started squawking: Tee drove an arrow through his eye, pinioning him to the rock, and Agnarr followed through with a devastating decapitation.

This wasn’t something that I had planned for. It’s one of a hundred different things I said in describing the early combat scenes of the campaign, but this is the one that resonated with us: Bam. Running Gag - RTCNCATee shoots something through the eye and it brings us joy and laughter.

It’s a running gag. They’re small things, but I think they really help to tie a campaign together. They’re a great example of the things which can help elevate a long-form campaign above episodic one-shot play.

Honestly, though, I don’t think you can plan for these. Or, if you can, they still won’t be nearly as effective or satisfying as those developed organically through play.

But you do have to be aware of them. You have to pay attention, spot the moments when these running gags have the opportunity to emerge, and then make the effort to cultivate and reinforce them over time.

You have to read the room.

These gags can be almost anything. The first time I ran Eternal Lies, for example, it was the character who managed – through pure luck and circumstance – to never be present when the supernatural elements manifested during the first half dozen or more sessions of the campaign. Once the player called this out, it became a consistent light-hearted moment whenever the rest of the group would begin rambling about what they had just experienced.

As these examples hopefully demonstrate, running gags don’t need to be huge, overblown, mood-killing things. Nor should they be overly frequent, as they will quickly kill the gag and sap the joy from it. But used with moderation and care, they become shared joy, a sense of community, and a lovely contrapuntal beat.

PLAYING WITH THE GAG

Here’s a couple of other things you can do with running gags, although they require great care and surety in their use.

Breaking the Gag. There may come a point when it’s most effective to end a running gag. In my Eternal Lies campaign, the character eventually did witness the supernatural firsthand. The player, rather cleverly I thought, chose to let the gag persist a little longer, but now the tone of the gag had changed: It was no longer a humorous Sculley-esque tolerance for the lovable crazy people she was associating with; it was a desperate and increasingly willful denial that she was using to cling to her sanity.

Eventually the time came for the gag to end completely. When the horrors which surrounded them had so completely and deniably impinged themselves upon the character that she had no choice but to break and accept what was happening to her.

And this really demonstrates the power of a good running gag: That final break – that final, mad acceptance of the supernatural – was made more powerful by the tradition which had proceeded it.

The trick with breaking a running gag, of course, is that you want to make sure that you’re not doing so cheaply or frivolously: The payoff you’re getting needs to more than outweigh all the future good that the gag could bring. (Or it needs to be so utterly necessary and demanded by circumstance as to be undeniable.)

Sharing the Gag. After they’ve been well established, some running gags that “belong” to a particular character can benefit from another character “guest-starring” in them. For example, once everyone firmly associates shooting people in the eye with Tee, it can reduce a table to tears of laughter when the normally bumbling Dominic suddenly does so almost by accident.

Here care must be used because you can end up watering the gag down. Tee shooting people in the eye has become a strong character trope in the campaign; if everybody starts shooting people in the eye, the gag loses its distinctive character (pun intended).

This is not, of course, to say that running gags can’t belong communally to the whole group. Some do. But others don’t. You need to make sure you understand what makes the gag work (and what makes it rewarding) so that you can cultivate it properly. Otherwise it’s like over-watering a cactus.

Ptolus - In the Shadow of the Spire

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 11B: GARDEN OF THE SICKSTONE ELEMENTALS

November 11th, 2007
The 30th Day of Amseyl in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

SICKSTONE ELEMENTALS

Seeing Tee climb down Elestra eagerly bounded forward and grabbed the rope. With her python viper wrapped around her waist, she swung over the edge of the ledge and tried to imitate the elf – rappelling quickly towards the floor of the cavern. Unfortunately, she set too fast a pace for herself. She lost her grip on the rope while she was still twenty feet off the floor. She landed with a rib-battering crash that was scarcely alleviated by the thin layer of moss-like growth.

With a deep groan, Elestra rolled over and sent her python viper forward to see if he could follow the trail of the spellcasters by scent. She was still staggering to her feet by the time he was halfway across the cavern.

Agnarr was moving a little distance into the cavern, as well. However, this may have been as over-hasty as Elestra’s climb, for as he drew near the first pair of rocky outcroppings the sound of a great rumbling and scraping echoed through the cavern and the outcroppings began to move.

They reared up into vaguely-humanoid forms which, with the creaking groan of an impending avalanche, stretched limbs of sickstone-laced rock. Agnarr immediately drew his greatsword. The goblins, still on the ledge above, briefly chattered to each other and then Itarek and another of the goblins grabbed the rope and began climbing down simultaneously.

Elestra’s snake, loyal to her last command, continued following the scent trail. “Agnarr!” she shouted. “Follow the snake!” (more…)

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