DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 40D: Children of the Hand

The blood trail ended abruptly (Tee guessed that Malleck had magically healed himself), but Tee’s sharp nose caught the passing of his scent. With something of a wild guess, she directed Elestra to send a burst of lightning in that direction—

And struck the invisible Malleck!

Malleck howled with pain. He was still invisible, but Tor followed his voice and caught him in another spray of blood.

“May the Galchutt consume you!” Malleck appeared, his hand outstretched towards them. A pillar of fire erupted around Tor.

Back in Session 38, we talked about the Secret Life of Silion: A major villain who, in accordance with the Principles of RPG Villainy, got shot in the back of the head before the PCs ever saw her face.

I follow the Principles in moments like that because, first, the players love that sort of well-earned victory: They put in the work to take Silion by surprise, and they were rewarded.

But I also do it because it sets up moments like the one you see in this session:

The grey-skinned man turned to one of the priests, “Give me your potion! Now!”

“Yes, Malleck.”

“It’s Malleck!” Tee cried with triumph.

Malleck swallowed the potion and disappeared.

“Dammit!”

The villain Malleck is trying to escape! Will he succeed?!

If the players thought I was just trying to gimmick Malleck’s escape — that it was a preordained conclusion — this would be the moment when they would check out of the session. At best I might get a few perfunctory (or extremely frustrated) attempts to “find” him, but the writing would be on the wall and they’d just be going through the motions.

But because I played fair with Silion, they know that I’m playing fair now: Malleck might escape. But if he does, it will be because they failed to stop him; not because I prohibited them from interrupting the cutscene.

And so, instead of the players checking out, the stakes were instead ratcheted to a whole new high. The table was electrified, and every player’s attention was laser focused on the game, bending their wits and pulling out every trick they could think of to figure out where Malleck had gone to and how they might force him out of invisibility.

As you can see from the journal, the PCs ultimately pull it off. Malleck wasn’t able to escape. It was a very different victory than the one they had with Silion, but it was just as well-earned and just as satisfying.

Just as Silion’s death had set up this sequence with Malleck, so, too, did Malleck’s death set things up for the next villain. She’ll arrive — or, rather, return — in the next session. And unlike Silion and Malleck, the PCs won’t be so lucky in preventing her escape.

But the great thing is that when she does escape, they won’t blame me. They won’t dismiss her slipping through their grasp by thinking that it was foreordained. Just like they own their successes, they also have to own their failures. And that makes those failures — and the consequences of those failures — even more powerful.

No one in this campaign doubts that I play fair with my villains, because I do, in fact, play fair with my villains. The proof is in the pudding.

When you establish the honesty and integrity of the game world, everything lands harder, victories and setbacks and the consequences of both. So when you’ve established that kind of trust with your players, you’ll ALL reap the benefits for years to come.

Campaign Journal: Session 40E – Running the Campaign: Looting Infrastructure
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 40D: CHILDREN OF THE HAND

July 25th, 2009
The 22nd Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

They regrouped in the laboratory. The boy, whimpering in pain, was fading fast.

“Is there anything we can do for him?” Tee asked. Nasira shook her head. Tee, wanting to spare him the pain, slid a dagger through the boy’s ribs and into his heart.

Even as Tee’s dagger was coming free, Agnarr was dumping Silion’s body out of the bag of holding, removing the iron collar from around her neck, and placing it on the boy. A debate immediately broke out: Some wanted to preserve Silion for a second round of questioning. Others wanted to do the same for Malleck.

“We need Malleck to tell us what he’s done with the missing children,” Elestra said.

“We know what he did with them,” Agnarr said. He was adamant that they keep the boy alive, and it looked like the iron collar was the only way to do it.

Tee and Tor, meanwhile, teamed up to track down the priests who had fled from Tee. But when they went into the barracks they could find no trace of them.

“Could they have teleported out?” Tor asked.

“If they did, they could be bringing friends,” Tee said.

“Target practice.”

Stymied as they were, they began tearing the barracks apart. They found a map of a route through the sewers (which appeared to lead back to the Temple of the Rat God), but little else of interest. In a chamber adjoining one of the barracks, however, they found an officers’ chamber. (“Probably belongs to that red-cloaked woman,” Tor said.) On a table near a crystal decanter they found a pair of letters—

LETTERS FROM ILLADRAS TO FREIN

Frein—

I’m tired of seeing your grotesque men skulking around Crossing Street. The concept of discretion is apparently beyond your crude ability to comprehend. I have instructed the Brothers of Venom to take care of the necessary security precautions. Dilar believes they can use the “Brotherhood of Ptolus” to recruit those we’ll need.

                                                                Illadras

Frein—

You can mouth all the empty protests you want, it matters little to me. Your threats of taking the matter to Malleck are quite laughable. I am sure that Malleck is already aware of the situation here at the temple. And if you believe that Malleck has more of Wuntad’s ear than I do, I suspect you’re destined for a brutal disappointment.

                                                                Illadras

—and as Tor read them out loud, Tee discovered a hidden compartment in the room’s wardrobe which contained what appeared to be a map of the entire temple.

The map revealed a secret door on the far wall of the barracks. It seemed clear that the priests must have used it.

“If they did,” Tor said, “Then they must be long gone. They could have easily taken those stairs to the surface.”

Tee cursed, but thought they should still check out the small complex of rooms beyond the secret door in case the priests were holed up in there.

Directly beyond the door they found an armory well-stocked with a variety of common weapons. The next door, however, led to something far more disturbing: An altar of ebony bedecked with chains of black iron and covered with stains of dried blood. More of the chains depended from the ceiling, and from these hung the corpse of a man – his intestines hanging out from deep, runic gashes carved into his abdomen.

They felt their stomachs churn at the sight and Tee murmured a nearly silent oath to make the cultists pay for their foul debaucheries.

Through the next door they found the missing priests: They had freed two centipedic horrors from the chained collars that kept them here, and as Tor and Tee came through the door they unleashed them for the attack.

The skittering horrors had scarcely gotten halfway across the chamber, however, before Tee had placed a pair of blasts from her dragon pistol through their chitinous skulls. The priests began chanting their dark prayers, but Tor was upon them before they could finish the incantations.

When they returned to the others in the laboratory, they found the debate over the use of the iron collar continuing apace. Tee and Tor quickly saw it settled: The boy would be kept in suspended animation. Tor would bind, blindfold, and gag both Malleck and Silion. Nasira would bring them to the very brink of life and they would hold them there for as long as necessary.

While the others went back to searching the nooks and crannies of the complex, Ranthir settled down to watch over their freshly-bound prisoners while reading through the various manuscripts he had taken from the temple’s library.

The map Tee and Tor had found indicated a second secret panel located in the laboratory. With the map as her guide, Tee was able to easily find and open it, revealing a small chamber with several narrow tables lining its walls. The tables were covered in a variety of alchemical equipment, magical scrolls, enchanted incenses, and the like. Among these was a sack of red velvet that felt hot to the touch. It contained a tiny ember of pure elemental fire, and Tee was delighted to discover that it could be used to create a wide variety of fiery effects.

There were also a plethora of papers, and Ranthir was more than happy to interrupt his reading for even more reading. Many of the papers detailed a variety of alchemical procedures, of which the most important seemed to be the Alchemical Creation of the Children of the Hand.

ALCHEMICAL CREATION OF THE CHILDREN OF THE HAND

Many of these papers are thickly covered in alchemical symbols and notations. Others are a chronological chronicling of what appear to be research experiments.

The alchemical concoction described is meant to be used in conjunction with a mystical ritual (which is not detailed). It appears to be designed to induce extreme mutative behavior in test subjects, and the goal of the process appears to be the creation of “children of the hand”.

The full meaning of this phrase is made horribly apparent as the research notes turn towards studying the efficacy of the procedure. “Only the youngest demonstrate desired manifestations.” Those older than adolescence are described as being “cellularly mortified” and “lacking in morphable plasticity”.

Detailed anatomical reports and autopsy studies detail the results of the procedure: Green and black mottled skin. The skin of the hands turns entirely black and the fingers lengthen into scythe-like claws. The bodies slowly cover with pus-filled sores as the procedure continues to wrack their bodies with painful transformations. So painful that their screams of agony are ceaseless… and so their tongues are pulled from their mouths to silence them. Eventually the sores begin bursting, oozing blood from the slowly spreading open wounds.

There was also a letter.

LETTER FROM THE DAWNBREAKER

Now that we have secured the idol, the ship’s guard must be strengthened. We will require at least six of the Children of the Hand. I will not brook any further delays, and I pray you will not make it necessary for me to broach this subject with Wuntad to see it properly concluded.

As long as the idol is aboard, the Dawnbreaker will not return to port. Deliver the children to the Argent Dawn the next time she docks. They shall be safely delivered from there.

                                                                Ibard

Tee was convinced that the letter was referring to the Idol of Ravvan. Their failure to secure the idol still ate at her conscience, but now they had a way of finding it again. Unfortunately, they also had a long list of commitments that would need to take priority over it.

They did a second sweep through the barracks and finished tossing them. From there they headed to what proved to be a small prison complex. Tee had to pick the lock, and as the door swung open they were confronted by a single panicky cultist clutching the handle of a door further down a long hall.

“Don’t come any closer! Or I’ll unlock it! I will!”

Tor edged forwards. “Sir… You need to calm down. We won’t—“

“I said don’t come any closer! I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll—“

The door the man was holding was suddenly smashed open. His skull was instantly crushed by the heavy iron door as it was driven into the far wall. Stooping through the doorway came a Child of the Hand. It was even more horrific than the descriptions Ranthir had provided from the alchemical notes suggested: Its skin was a sickly ebon morass of pus, blood, and mottled green. Its muscles were horribly deformed in their excess. Its mouth was opened in a mute and endless howl of groaning pain.

It charged down the hall and smashed Tor into the wall with a powerful, grunting blow. Agnarr pushed Tee out of the way and came through the door to meet it. The creature’s powerful blows pounded mercilessly at the fighter, who was horrified to see that the creature’s pulsing, ever-growing muscles possessed some form of regenerative powers.

They did note, however, that it feared the flame from Agnarr’s sword. When they eventually managed to cut it down, they were forced to use flame to finally end its misery.

Nasira, with tears in her eyes at the thought of the innocent, tortured child the cultists had destroyed, healed the vicious gashes left by its scythe-like claws.

At the end of the hall they found a torture chamber: Manacles hung from the walls, and disturbingly stained wooden stocks, a rack, and even an iron maiden cluttered the large room. On a blood-stained table near the racks, there were notes from a recent interrogation.

NOTES FROM THE INTERROGATION

FIRST SESSION

The subject has proven to be remarkably resilient. After three hours on the rack, “Catya” was still protesting innocence. However, proper application of the weeping stone broke her resolve. Apparently her real name is Leesha.

SECOND SESSION

After putting her left eye out with the poker, the subject screamed Wulvera’s name before losing consciousness. I have spoken with Malleck and he will contact Wulvera to make sure that some misunderstanding has not taken place. Although if she’s a spy placed here by the Bell…

THIRD SESSION

With Wulvera denying all knowledge of any “Catya” or “Leesha”, Malleck has given me permission to proceed. The rack is proving of little use with this one.

FOURTH SESSION

The weeping stone has broken her. The subject has admitted she came to spy on us. She followed shipments out of the Teeth of Light to Porphyry House. Coming to Ptolus she was spotted by Wulvera’s guards, but she was able to learn of their connection to our temple.

Malleck will be pleased to learn of Wulvera’s failure. Those of the Bell may chastise us for a lack of discretion, but it seems they cannot keep their own counsel.

FIFTH SESSION

There is nothing more to be learned from this one. Malleck has given me permission to use her meat for the feast.

The mention of a weeping stone drew their attention to a smooth, black stone that lay on the table nearby. On closer inspection, they found thin veins of silver etched across its surface. Ranthir confirmed its identity: Created through alchemical processes that inflicted terrible – and sometimes lethal – pain on a living creature, such a stone would cause anyone touching it to his or her face to begin to weep and feel great sorrow. It was a common, if expensive, tool of malign torture.

Meanwhile, Nasira had taken the keys from the dead cultist and was opening the other prison doors. Agnarr was keeping a wary eye on her, afraid that they might find another of the Children of the Hand.

Instead, to their great joy, they found three unaffected children. They had been doped to somnulence, but otherwise seemed fine.

Nasira decided to stay with the children and watch over them. Ranthir and Elestra, wanting to stay near her, moved Malleck and Silion to the cell the Child of the Hand had been kept in. (It had been barely large enough for the child, but big enough to fit all four of them comfortably.)

THE MAZE

They returned to the sacrificial chamber of black chains. There was a locked door leading away from this chamber and Tee spent several long minutes struggling with the difficult lock. When she finally managed to trip the tumblers, she gave a jubilant cry and threw open the door—

And barely managed to dive out of the way of an explosion.

Agnarr helped her up. “You should check for traps.”

Beyond the door was a short hallway ending in another door. Halfway down the hall she stepped on a loose paving stone—

And a burst of fire filled the hall.

“You should check for traps.”

She reached the second door and checked it scrupulously for any sign of danger. Finding none, she opened the door and—

Explosion.

“You should check for traps.”

Beyond the door lay an odd-shaped chamber of gray stone. The floor of the chamber had been carved with an intricate maze-like pattern that seemed to shift and move as Tee looked at it.

Tee had no interest in stepping out onto the maze. Activating her boots she eased herself into the air—

And was ripped down to the floor, finding herself trapped on the first step of the maze. The way behind her had become clouded with a scintillating aura of energy and she could feel the strength of both body and soul being drained down into the twisted pathways of the maze. She felt herself gripped by a compulsion to step forward along the maze, and with each step the maze itself disappeared behind her.

The ordeal seemed endless, and with each step she took Tee could feel the presence of something horrific and powerful growing in her mind or the maze or both. It was as if the sheer, intense suffering of the labyrinthine labor were calling out to some malefic, ineffable entity. She felt her own soul acid-stripped bare before its dark power, and still the compulsion clutched her feet and drove her forward.

At last her weary, psychic-beaten footfalls along the back-twisted spiral forced her into the very center of the room – the apex of the maze. And in that instant she felt that distant, dark power touch her mind fully; she seemed to look out through its hopelessly faceted eyes onto a vast web of malevolent ambition.

She felt, twisted in its thoughts – thoughts which seemed to flow like the broken edges of the maze itself; thoughts she could comprehend only because the maze had twisted her own thoughts – an offer to share in its power; in its glorious vision of the world: All she needed was to accept and that power would be hers. It would flow through her and give her strength and let her—

Revulsion coiling in her heart, she reached for the lesson Doraedian had taught her and turned the dream against itself and took one last and final step… And found herself standing outside the chamber.

She reached out and slammed the door shut. But in one last glimpse of that chamber she could see the maze begin to re-etch itself into the floor of the chamber.

“You should really check for traps.”

Running the Campaign: The Villain Who Doesn’t Escape – Campaign Journal: Session 40E
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 40C: Malleck’s Last Stand

Nasira had turned her attention to the boy. She found that his heart was failing him. The process that was transforming him was obviously botched and incomplete and now it was killing him.

Hearing this, Agnarr couldn’t contain his rage. He was furious over the boy. With a grim look of determination he charged back out through the secret door.

Magic is cool because it brings a lot of flashy bling to the table: Balls of fire. Personal aerobatics. Magic missiles.

But what I think makes magic awesome is that it lets you explore unique and impossible situations, and some of the most powerful of these are moral dilemmas, because they provide a really powerful crucible for character to express itself. Who are you? What do you value? When put between a rock and a hard place, what will you choose to do?

What makes magical moral dilemmas special is their novelty. Most of us are probably familiar with the trolley problem, and we’ve each literally spent a lifetime figuring out our moral and ethical compass when it comes to the situations we encounter in our lives. We likely even have long-settled opinions on big issues, even though it’s unlikely we’ve ever personally had to, for example, make the decision to declare or not declare war.

There are nevertheless, of course, ways that we could challenge and explore these moral issues through play. (And, of course, our characters will not necessarily share our moral or ethical outlooks.) But we’ll be walking through familiar territory either way.

With a fantastical dilemma, on the other hand, the fantastical element immediately confronts us with a parameter we’ve never had to deal within our own lives, and likely have never thought about before. Even when there’s a fairly obvious and direct parallel between the fantastical dilemma and a set of real world ethics, the mismatched edges will often crop up and challenge our trite, preconceived answers in the most surprising ways.

For example: Is it ethical to use an invisibility spell to eavesdrop on a private conversation? And, if so, under what circumstances?

Here we could probably draw a fairly direct connection to wiretapping. But what if you’re just coincidentally invisible and people walk into the room you’re in? Do you have an ethical obligation to reveal your presence?

And consider the moral situation the PCs find themselves in with the Children of the Hand. What moral obligation do they have to children who have been fully transformed in monsters? Does the same hold true a child that has only partially been transformed? What if that child is in agonizing pain and no longer able to communicate?

To see how the PCs dealt with this, here are some minor spoilers from the beginning of the next campaign journal:

They regrouped in the laboratory. The boy, whimpering in pain, was fading fast.

“Is there anything we can do for him?” Tee asked. Nasira shook her head. Tee, wanting to spare him the pain, slid a dagger through the boy’s ribs and into his heart.

Even as Tee’s dagger was coming free, Agnarr was dumping Silion’s body out of the bag of holding, removing the iron collar from around her neck, and placing it on the boy. A debate immediately broke out: Some wanted to preserve Silion for a second round of questioning. Others wanted to do the same for Malleck.

“We need Malleck to tell us what he’s done with the missing children,” Elestra said.

“We know what he did with them,” Agnarr said. He was adamant that they keep the boy alive, and it looked like the iron collar was the only way to do it.

Here we see another magical element — the iron collar that preserves dead bodies so that they can be raised at a later time — add new facets to the dilemma.

You can draw some parallels to medical ethics, of course, but they’re not straight lines. Is this more like a medically induced coma, temporarily stopping someone’s heart when they have tachycardia, or illegal medical experimentation?

And while we’re here: What, exactly, are the ethics of keeping a bunch of dead corpses in a magical netherspace between dimensions so that you can periodically yank them out and question them under compulsive sorceries?

Asking for a friend.

Campaign Journal: Session 40D – Running the Campaign: The Villain Who Doesn’t Escape
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 40C: MALLECK’S LAST STAND

July 25th, 2009
The 22nd Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

While Ranthir collected the books, the others were dumping the cultists’ bodies onto the lighted panels, which sucked the blood out of them and schlepped it down to the sewer.

“That’s gross,” Elestra said, watching the blood run in twisting rivulets away from them.

“Remind me not to stand on these things with an open wound,” Tee said.

They joined Ranthir in the library. Tee checked the doors, finding them all locked. Picking the nearest one at random, she flipped open her ring of lockpicking tools and set to work.

She had just gotten the door unlocked, however, when a piercing scream ripped its way through the complex. She sighed and relocked the door.

The scream sounded as if it came from the far end of the complex. They headed up a short flight of stairs and down a long hall that seemed to head in the right direction. Nearing the end of the hall, Tee caught the faint sounds of conversation coming from somewhere ahead and she waved the others to hold back and hold silent. Peering around the corner she looked through a door into what appeared to be one end of a larger barracks. There was definitely someone in there, but they were out of sight. In the opposite direction – the direction she felt the scream had come from – was another short flight of stairs leading up.

At Tee’s direction – and following Tor’s lead – they rounded the corner and headed up the stairs. These led into a large, open common room containing several tables, a few divans, several cushioned chairs, and a number of deformed stone idols.

Two cultists were on guard duty here, but they seemed lax in their duties: One was leaning lackadaisically against the wall while the other sat on a chair, sharpening his sword. Tor, still under the camouflaging effects of Elestra’s communion with the Spirit of the City, was able to sneak along the wall and kill the first without the other even noticing. When he went for the sword-sharpener, however, the cultist got a turn of good luck, narrowly dodging Tor’s thrust. But his luck lasted for only a moment: As he opened his mouth to give a warning shout, Tor cut him down in a gasping gurgle.

Another scream rended the air. They whirled towards the source, heading down a long flight of stairs that opened into a long, wide, sconce-lit hall. The staircase emerged above the floor of the hall and descended through open air, although along the nearest end it was flanked by two broad ledges which could be reached by independent stairs from the chamber floor.

The walls and the floor below were of black-and-red swirled marble. In the center of the lower floor was a large table of inclined stone. Strapped to this table was a young boy, his body wracked in the midst of some sort of horrible transformation: One arm had grown bulbous with rippling black muscles, his skin was mottled with a sickly green growth, and pus-filled sores were sprouting across his entire body and blood streamed from wounds that seemed to open and close of their own accord. His face was rictused in agony.

Standing nearby were two priests in white robes marked with the black hand of the Ebon Hand. They were manipulating syringes and checking injection tubes that had been plunged into the body of the transforming boy. Their work was being overseen by another man with mottled grey skin streaked with serpentine green wearing an ebony headdress.

Two more priests were standing near the end of the stairs. Their attention was given wholly to the grim proceedings before them. Tee – barely suppressing the rage she felt at the scene – was easily able to pass silently down the stairs. The priests weren’t aware of her until she sent one of their heads flying down the length of the chamber.

It landed near the feet of the man with the mottled grey skin. The priests stared down at it for a moment dumbly, and before they had a chance to process what was happening Tor had charged down the stairs and thrown them into complete disarray.

The grey-skinned man turned to one of the priests, “Give me your potion! Now!”

“Yes, Malleck.”

“It’s Malleck!” Tee cried with triumph.

Malleck swallowed the potion and disappeared.

“Dammit!”

MALLECK’S LAST STAND

Tee and Elestra laid down a volley of dragon pistol fire, forcing the remaining priests to backpedal rapidly as Agnarr moved to engage them. Tor, however, had shut his eyes, thinking back to the long hours of blind-folded training he had practiced back on his ranch. It seemed so long ago, and yet—

His sword lashed out. A spray of arterial blood spread across the wall and the venomed curses of Malleck could be heard clearly over the sounds of the nearby melee.

Tor opened his eyes with a grim smile. But suddenly a secret panel in the far wall slid open… and slid shut again. Malleck had escaped! Tor threw himself at the door, but was left searching helplessly for the mechanism to open it.

Two of the remaining priests called upon dark gods in a sibilant, twisted tongue. Hands of crackling black energy appeared in the air before them—And Agnarr’s flaming blade ripped through them and turned the priests behind them into smoldering ruins. In their last instants, the hands actually tried to flee from the enraged barbarian as they flickered out ineffectually. Elestra summoned lightning from the air itself to immolate the last of the priests.

Ranthir waved a hand over his feet and set off with expeditious speed back up the long stairs, hoping that he might be able to cut Malleck off from his escape.

Tee, meanwhile, was racing in the opposite direction. She hit the wall where Malleck had disappeared with her ring and in a burst of blue energy the panel slid open. Passing through it, she found herself back in the library. The blood trail ended abruptly (Tee guessed that Malleck had magically healed himself), but Tee’s sharp nose caught the passing of his scent. With something of a wild guess, she directed Elestra to send a burst of lightning in that direction—

And struck the invisible Malleck!

Malleck howled with pain. He was still invisible, but Tor followed his voice and caught him in another spray of blood.

“May the Galchutt consume you!” Malleck appeared, his hand outstretched towards them. A pillar of fire erupted around Tor.

Malleck turned to make good his escape, but Ranthir – racing down the hall from the opposite direction – stretched out his own hand and enmeshed Malleck in an impenetrable web. Malleck managed to wrench his way free from the sticky mass, but found himself trapped and backed into a corner as Tor and Agnarr closed in on him.

“Help! Help! To arms! The compound is under attack! We’re under attack!”

THE FALL OF THE TEMPLE

Agnarr, having burned his way through the web using his sword, plunged his sword into Malleck’s body. Tee, meanwhile, had heard the commotion of reinforcements drawn to Malleck’s final rallying cry. She called for the others to fall back through the secret door… only to discover that her ring had, unfortunately, disabled its mechanism. They couldn’t shut it.

Tor, taking up the rear of their retreat back into the laboratory, heard a door slam nearby and the rush of footsteps drawing nearer. Then voices cried out: “Malleck is down! Get him!”

During Malleck’s last stand, Nasira had turned her attention to the boy. She found that his heart was failing him. The process that was transforming him was obviously botched and incomplete and now it was killing him.

Hearing this, Agnarr couldn’t contain his rage. He was furious over the boy. With a grim look of determination he charged back out through the secret door.

“Agnarr!” Tee screamed. “What are you doing?!”

Agnarr found two cultist guards trying to haul Malleck out of the web. He cut them down with a single furious sweep of his blade.

But there were at least a dozen more of the cultists charging down the hall towards him. Agnarr whirled towards them…

And was joined by Tor, who gave him an ironic nod. “Well, since you’re out here anyway…”

Side-by-side they charged up the stairs and into the long hall. Tee, meanwhile, had gone back up the long-stairs and circled around to the far side of the barracks. She was waiting for the waves of reinforcements to run dry, but they just kept coming.

Elestra joined Tor and Agnarr in the hall, using the last of her lightning to chew up the back ranks of the cultists. For a moment it looked as if their morale might break.

But then a woman in red and black full plate – a red cape with a black hand embroidered upon its swirling across her back – emerged from the barracks. She started barking orders and rallying cries to the nearest soldiers.

Agnarr held his ground to keep the cultists from converging on Elestra, but Tor began to cut a path towards the woman. As Tor drew near, the woman saw him isolated from his companions. She carefully circled their skirmish, trying to flank him… but she was caught completely off-guard as Agnarr surged his way forward and came up behind them with preternatural speed. She was cut down before she realized the danger that was upon her.

Tee, thinking the woman to be the last of the cultists coming from that direction, emerged from her place of hiding in an effort to circle around the others and flank them. But as she did, two cultist priests came rushing out of the barracks and caught her standing in the middle of the hall. They sneered at her. “Trying to flee, eh?”

They took two steps towards her and then glanced down the length of the hall… where they saw the devastation wrought by Agnarr, Tor, and Elestra.

They turned and ran back into the barracks.

Running the Campaign: Moral Dilemmas of Magic – Campaign Journal: Session 40D
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Chaos Lorebook: The Bloated Lords

Some among the zaug were transformed by the Galchutt and “turned to a new purpose”. As the zaug were made living receptacles for manifest corruption, the zaug soulharvesters became living prisoners for captured and tormented souls.

“Their very flesh burned with the fire of the souls which screamed within them.”

“Their hunger was without end, fed eternally by the torment of those who seared their flesh.”

This week’s campaign journal is The Bloated Lords, a lengthy chaos lorebook describing the zaug, one of the Servitors of the Galchutt.

In the Ptolus campaign setting, the Galchutt are lords of chaos and the Servitors of the Galchutt are demon-like creatures who, as their name suggests, serve them. Along with the strange arts of chaositech which are inimically tied to these entities, you can point to a goulash of antecedents Monte Cook is drawing from — Lovecraft, Moorcock, Warhammer, cenobites, etc. — but the result, particularly when blended into traditional D&D fantasy, is very distinct.

When I brought Ptolus into my own campaign world, however, the Galchutt posed a conundrum: I already had my own pantheon of Mythos-adjacent strange gods.

I thought about replacing the Galchutt with my own pantheon, but then I’d lose a lot of cool stuff. It would be a bunch of extra work for, at best, a neutral result.

Another option would have been to simply add the Galchutt to my pantheon: The more strange gods the merrier! For various reasons, though, they didn’t really sync. I’m a big fan of adaptation and reincorporation, but it’s not always a boon. Sometimes you shove stuff together and you’re left with less than what you started.

So what I eventually ended up doing was nestling the Galchutt into a lower echelon, as “Dukes” in the Demon Court. They brought with them the Dukes (powerful, demon-like entities) and the Elder Brood (demonic monsters who serve the Dukes). This worked really well, creating an unexpected bridge (Elder Brood → Dukes → Galchutt → Demon Court → even stranger depths of the pantheon) between the inexplicable and the mortal world. It’s a good example of how you can pull in influences from a lot of different places and gestalt them into something cool.

Another example of this was the Elder Brood: In the Chaositech sourcebook, only two examples of the Elder Brood are given (the obaan and the sscree). I knew I wanted more than that, so I hit up one of my favorite monster manuals: The Book of Fiends from Green Ronin. (Which also played a major role in my remix of Descent Into Avernus.) I pulled all the cool devils and demons from that book that had the right flavor for the Elder Brood and added them to the roster.

Along similar lines, the zaug — one of the Servitors and described in The Bloated Lords lorebook — were expanded in my campaign to include the Soulharvesters. These were adapted from solamiths, a monster described in Monster Manual V.

If I recall correctly, the specific sequence here was:

• I was looking for a miniature I could use for the zaug (since I knew that one would appear in the Mrathrach Machine).
• I found the solamith miniature and realized it belonged to a monster from Monster Manual V.
• I checked out the solamith write-up and realized thar it could be folded into the mythology of the zaug.

It’s been a while, though, so my sequencing on this may not be correct. (I may have found the solamith write-up first while scavenging monsters for the campaign and then tracked down the miniature from there.) In any case, it’s a technique I’ve used with monster manuals for a long time. It’s similar to The Campaign Stitch, but rather than melding adventures it takes monsters and asks: What if these are the same monster?

It’s kind of like palette shifting, but rather than taking one stat block and using it to model a multitude of creatures, this technique — let’s call it monster melding — takes a bunch of different stat blocks and brings them together.

Another example is that, in my personal campaign world, goblins, orcs, hobgoblins, and ogres are all the same species. (Which, conveniently, gives me access to a much larger variety of stat blocks to plug-‘n-play with while stocking goblin villages.)

What I like about this technique — in addition to utilitarian stocking adventages — is that, much like gods and ventures, the melded monsters can often be more interesting than using the two separately. (For example, the implications of hypertrophic dimorphism in goblins raises all kinds of interesting worldbuilding questions and the soulharvesters, in my opinion, make zaug society much more interesting to explore.)

So ask yourself:

• What if these are the same creature with slightly divergent careers, abilities, etc.?
• What if these are the same creature at different stages of its life cycle?
• What if they live in some kind of symbiosis or parasitic relationship?

Bring these creatures together and see what you get!

Campaign Journal: Session 40C – Running the Campaign: Moral Dilemmas of Magic
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index