SESSION 38C: SCOUTING THE TEMPLE

May 9th, 2009
The 21st Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

“I’ve been told that you were asking questions about a woman named Silion.”

“That’s true,” Tee replied suspiciously.

Nasira’s eyes narrowed. They had a particular look of worn determination, like one who has gazed into the long, hard face of nature. “I know where she can be found,” she said. “I’ve been looking for her.”

“Why?”

“You may not know this, but she’s a cultist serving chaos—“

“That doesn’t really surprise me,” Tee admitted.

“I see.” Nasira pursed her lips. “I’m not really interested in her. But she works for a man named Wuntad.”

“We should wait,” Tee said. “I have some friends. They should hear this, too.”

It wasn’t long before the others joined them, and when they did, Nasira told her story: Wuntad had killed her father and destroyed her village. She hadn’t been able to follow him, but she knew that he had worked with a woman named Silion – and she had traced Silion here to Ptolus. She hoped that Silion would be able to lead her to Wuntad.

“Wuntad is here in Ptolus, too,” Tor said.

“Really?” Nasira said. “Do you think we should just go to him directly?”

They exchanged nervous glances.

“The truth is,” Tee said. “We don’t know where he is, either. If you think Silion can lead us to him, all the better.”

“Why did Wuntad kill your father?” Ranthir asked.

(“Not that he needs any reason to do it,” Elestra muttered.)

“He was researching the lore of the Atapi,” Nasira said.

“The Atapi?”

“A nomadic desert people,” Nasira explained.

“Atapi?” Tor wondered aloud. “That sounds familiar.”

“It does?” Elestra looked surprised.

Tor nodded. “I saw it on a map in Zavere’s office. At Harvesttime.”

Ranthir put the question on the table: “Why would Zavere be interested in the Atapi?”

They had no idea. But they had been suspicious of Zavere before, and this led them only to greater suspicion. Although, in the end, Elestra summed up their thoughts: “We have to trust somebody at some point.”

“No we don’t,” Tee said.

“Even if we can’t trust him,” Tor said. “It’s not like there’s much we can do about it.”

“Who’s Zavere?” Nasira asked, wide-eyed with confusion.

“We’ll explain later,” Agnarr said.

“How long have you been in Ptolus?” Tee asked.

“Not long,” Nasira said. “A couple of weeks.”

“There’ll be lots of things to explain.”

The decision was made for Nasira to join them as they pursued her lead to Silion.

“Where is she, anyway?”

“At the Temple of the Rat God,” Nasira said. “It’s a front for the Cult of the Blooded Knife. I know that Silion controls the temple, but I’ve never seen her. I have seen Urnest – a hulking ratbrute who serves as her right hand man.”

This prompted another flurry of note-checking and memory-searching as they paired up the references they had discovered to both Silion and the Temple of the Rat God and began to weave a larger understanding of her activities. Nasira was able to confirm that the Blooded Knife was associated with various shivvel dens in the Warrens (although she hadn’t had a chance to investigate them closely), which seemed to tie in with the note they had found at Linech Cran’s.

Nasira had lacked the strength to tackle the temple directly. But with all of them working together, they felt the challenge should be manageable.

Before that could happen, however, Tor and Ranthir needed to keep their appointment with Sir Seppa at the Administration Building.

NEWS & INFORMATION

When Tor and Ranthir arrived at the Administration Building around mid-morning, they found Sir Seppa waiting for them. Tor quickly managed the introductions and then Seppa proved as good as his word: After a couple of hours digging through the appropriate boxes of musty records, they turned up an ancient survey map of the area now occupied by the Necropolis. The map indicated the location of several structures, one of which was marked with Alchestrin’s sigil.

Meanwhile, Elestra was hitting the streets. The events on Tavern Row the previous evening were dominating the headlines of the newssheets, but there were a number of other stories and rumors to be found: It was being reported that a half dozen children had disappeared from Gnarl Street in Midtown over the past three days. And the mutilated body of a woman – her skull ripped open – had been found on Flamemoth Way in Oldtown.

SCOUTING THE TEMPLE

While the others fanned out across the city, Tee and Nasira headed to the Temple District to scout out the area around the Temple of the Rat God.

The temple was located on the Blessed Bridge: This hefty bridge of stone, running between Midtown and the Temple District, was broad enough that a jumble of buildings had been built along both sides of its length. The entrance to the temple of the Rat God was crammed between two other buildings; in fact, it appeared as nothing more than a nondescript door leading to the half-basement level of an adjoining temple built literally over the top of it.

Asking around, Tee discovered that this other door led to the Temple of the Jade Idols, a minor Reformist cult. Since these were not the only small temples jammed together along the Blessed Bridge, there was no reason to suspect that the jade idolaters were associated with the ratmen or chaos cultists.

After mulling the matter over for awhile, Tee’s impatience eventually got the best of her. (Maybe a little Agnarr was starting to rub off on her.) She told Nasira to watch her back and then simply barged through the front door.

Inside she found a dimly lit sanctuary hall. At the far end, at the top of a short flight of stairs, was a large statue depicting an upright rat holding out its front legs like greedy hands and wearing a vicious, bloodthirsty sneer. Scrawled along the walls were several crude, graffiti-like messages (“beauty is plague”, “love is greed”, “the solace of filth”, and the like). Three hooded figures were knelt in prayer before this idol, but they were on their feet almost instantly as the door opened.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Tee said. “This isn’t the Temple of the Jade Idols.” She backed out and shut the door.

But not before she’d seen a furry hand.

Tee had seen no doors leading out of the sanctuary, but she and Nasira both agreed that there must be some secret egress. And now that Tee had a firm visual reference for the temple, they could continue their investigations magically.

Heading into the Temple of the Jade Idols, they found a curving maze of small, incense-filled rooms. The walls were lined with various niches containing jade idols of the nine gods and forming a variety of small shrine-like areas of worship. Nasira explained that the jade idolaters believed that the idols of the nine gods, carved from nine different types of jade (the “harmonic lifestone”), captured the Song of the World.

They found one of the smaller shrines tucked back near where Tee estimated the worshipping ratmen were kneeling below them. Nasira then reached out into a higher consciousness and felt her thoughts seeking out the minds of those below them. They had hoped that Nasira would be able to detect the thoughts of other ratmen and, from that, ascertain the layout of the rest of the temple. But if there were other ratmen present, they were too far away for her to find them.

So, instead, she latched onto the mind of one of the ratmen in the sanctuary hall and pushed, looking for thoughts that would reveal the secret entrance to the temple recesses. Unfortunately, she read his panic: He had felt the strength of her connection and his suspicion was exploding.

Nasira quickly muttered an incantive prayer and projected a sense of clairaudience into the sanctuary hall below. She was in time to hear the ratmen deciding to summon reinforcements. She quickly informed Tee of what was happening, and Tee rushed back to the street in case the ratmen headed that way (in which case she could follow them).

But she saw nothing: The ratmen didn’t leave through the front door. Instead, Nasira heard the sound of scraping stone. Perhaps more importantly, she heard them decide to not warn Silion (she was quick-tempered apparently) – confirming that she was somewhere within the temple.

When Tee returned, she nodded her head. “It’s interesting that when they go for reinforcements they go farther in, not out into the street.”

They concluded that the sound of scraping stone must be some sort of secret door within the sanctuary. They suspected the temple complex was larger than it appeared, but perhaps not. “There might be a connection to the sewers,” Nasira pointed out. “They might be going through the sewers to get reinforcements.”

A little later, Nasira heard another scraping of stone and the arrival of more ratmen. Shortly thereafter, the strength of her spell gave out.

Running the Campaign: Expanding Dungeons – Campaign Journal: Session 38D
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 38B: Nasira’s Story

The next morning, as was her familiar custom, Tee arose a few hours before the others and went down to the common room to break her fast. While she picked at pieces of cold mutton, a young woman approached her table. She was a wiry thing — rather plain, and generally brown: tanned skin, light brown eyes, brown hair, and with a dress of pale brown.

“Is your name Tithenmamiwen?”

Tee nodded.

“My name is Nasira. I’ve been told that you were asking questions about a woman named Silion.”

Tee palmed a dagger.

Back in Session 8, we added a new player to our group.

In Session 37, we sadly lost a player.

Now we’re adding a new player to replace the one we lost. The basic procedure we’re following hasn’t changed much, but there are a few twists that I think are worth mentioning.

First, for the reasons we looked at during the last session, the group wasn’t just looking to add any new character: They were specifically interested in filling the gap left by Dominic’s departure. They wanted a healer.

Generally, I don’t like putting any limits on what characters a new player can play. I also don’t put a lot of stock in the idea that every group needs to conform to some “standard” set of roles. (See our previous discussion about non-standard groups.) But this was a very specific circumstance and, as I’ve noted, it was being driven by the group’s desire to fill a very specific need.

With that being said, I didn’t want this new character to just be a carbon copy of Dominic with the name scratched out and a new one written in: That would be boring. It also wouldn’t be fair to the new player.

To make sure she felt creatively free to make the character she wanted to play, (a) I made sure the remit was as broad as possible and (b) I also tapped my own system expertise to offer her a wide variety of build concepts that could potentially deliver the healing the group was looking for.

If I recall correctly, there was a point where we considered making “let’s find a replacement” diegetic — i.e., the PCs would actually go looking for a new compatriot. As I began exploring Nasira’s background with the new player, however, it was clear that this character wasn’t a “healer for hire” or anyone else who could be logically recruited by an adventuring party.

So how could Nasira be introduced to the campaign?

I used a combination of the collaborative methods for creating campaign characters described here, taking the background Nasira’s player had given me, fleshing it out with additional lore, and tweaking elements to provide hooks (including the big, obvious hook featured in this session) that would not only bring Nasira to the current PCs, but also naturally align her goals with theirs.

As described in GM Don’t List #19: Ignoring PC Backstories, this went both ways: I harvested elements introduced by Nasira’s player in her backstory and seized the opportunity to flesh out my campaign notes.

During this back-and-forth process, I also took the opportunity to seed some stuff into Nasira’s background that wouldn’t turn up in campaign until later. (As it turned out, much later: It wasn’t until around Session 100 that some of this stuff started paying off.)

OPEN TABLE RECRUITMENT

The other big twist was that this was the first time I’d recruited a new player to a long-term campaign since I’d started running my first open table.

Holy shirtforks! It was amazing!

Not only had I been running games for this new player for several months, but the other players in the Ptolus campaign had been playing games with her. So when we asked the question, “Who should be the new player?”, not only did we all know exactly who we wanted, we were also absolutely sure she’d be the perfect fit for the group (and vice versa).

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: Running an open table would be worth it even if the only thing you liked about it was recruiting new players to your dedicated campaigns.

Not only have I repeated this process of adding a new player from my open table to an ongoing campaign several times since this inaugural example, it’s also the primary method I use for recruiting players to brand new campaigns too (like Eternal Lies, Dragon Heist, Blades in the Dark, Night’s Black Agents, and so forth).

The results are exemplary every single time.

Campaign Journal: Session 38C – Running the Campaign: Expanding Dungeons
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 38A: The Arathian Job

Once Agnarr’s tail-lopping duties were completed, they loaded the various ratmen corpses – along with the Iron Mage’s crate – into the cart Elestra had procured and started the long haul up the Dock ramp.

As they went, they mulled the question of how they could protect the Iron Mage’s crate. It was too large and too dangerous for them to haul around with them, and it certainly wasn’t the sort of thing they could just leave lying about their room.

They rejected a plan to place illusions on the ratbrute corpses to make them appear like duplicates of the real crate before dumping them in the Midden Heaps or scattering them around town. They felt it was a ruse too easily penetrated… and once the illusions lapsed the corpses might lead to some unwanted questions on their own account.

“Besides,” Tor pointed out. “I promised to dispose of them properly.”

What the players decided to call the Arathian Job (it’s like The Italian Job, but we’re in Arathia!) isn’t the classic image of what a heist looks like, but it has the same attitude: Planning, prep work, execution.

And as you look at the Arathian Job as a heist, you might find it remarkable that it just… works. The players simply put together their plan and executed it.

If you look back at Session 8, when the PCs were hired to sneak a scrying cube into Linech Cran’s office, you’ll see a similar dynamic:

Once there, Tee went down the narrow alley between the Yebures’ and the house next door. From there she climbed quietly onto the Yebures’ roof. She had some difficulty climbing the next section of wall up to Linech’s window – falling and cracking her head once – but she eventually secured a grappling hook in the chimney on Linech’s roof, climbed the rope, and then rappelled over to Linech’s window.

The lock on Linech’s window yielded to her thieves’ tools easily enough and she slipped inside, falling to the floor next to the life-size gold statue they had noticed the last time they were in the office.

In looking for a place to hide the scrying cube, Tee’s eyes were naturally drawn to the bookshelves along the room’s north wall. Clearing some of the books away she reached back to place the scrying cube behind them… only to find a crumpled up sheet of paper lying there. She pulled this out, glanced at it, and then stuffed it into her bag. Placing the scrying cube and then carefully replacing the books she had moved, she went back to the window, shut it behind her, and climbed down.

Tee gave the signal that the others, scattered around the lower burrow, could disperse. It had all gone as smoothly as anyone could hope.

They’d done their legwork, come up with a plan that worked, made their skill checks, and walked away clean.

It can be tempting, as a GM, to think that if we don’t make things hard for the PCs or complicated in some way that the game will be “boring.” That might be true if every challenge is trivial and the PCs simply streamroll their way through the campaign, but the reality is that coming up with a strategic plan, executing it, and having it work is immensely satisfying.

So when the players earn a victory, let them bask in it.

These successes also create great contrast for when things DO fall part. You can see a very clear example of this in the case of the Linech Cran job because in Session 9 the PCs had to come back and break into his office all over again, this time to steal the gold statue he had on display there. This time there were new complications (someone else was trying to break into the office at the same time), and the PCs ended up flubbing one of their skill checks and dropping the statue, creating a loud noise that raised the alarm and created even more complications. The PCs were still ultimately successful, but it was a much more stressful heist.

The great thing about this contrast is — if you’re playing fair — then the players truly feel like they earned their victories (because they did), which makes them even sweeter. And the players also own their struggles and even failures: There’s no reason the second Linech Cran job couldn’t have gone smoothly. (The first job proves it, after all.) The complications they need to overcome (like dropping the statue) feel legitimate, partly because they are and partly because they’ve seen the proof of that. That legitimacy keeps the players immersed in the scenario, and also makes their ultimate success (assuming they achieve it) all the more satisfying because they earned it.

By contrast, when the players become convinced that they can never truly succeed because the GM will always find some way to thwart their best laid plans (whether in the name of “making things interesting” or otherwise), it steals the luster of the campaign. It’s the reason some players don’t enjoy making plans; after all, what’s the point when every plan is doomed to failure whether it’s good or bad? And other players will respond by spending even more time making plans in a Sisyphean and ultimately doomed effort to make them perfect. (And this, too, becomes a reason why players don’t enjoy making plans.)

The same thing is even more, in my experience, if the players becomes convinced that they can never fail because the GM will always twist things to make sure they succeed. Again: Why bother making plans if making the plan has no meaningful impact on the outcome?

And what happens as a result is that the tactical and strategic elements of the game become deeply weakened: Figuring out what you need to do and then doing it is in fun in games, it’s fun in life, and it should be fun in an RPG.

When that thrill gets pulled out of your roleplaying game, it’s a sad loss.

Campaign Journal: Session 38B – Running the Campaign: Adding a New Player (Part 2)
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 37E: On the Iron Mage’s Business

Tee and Ranthir both rose early the next morning and went shopping for potions. (Without Dominic’s divine aid, they needed more healing resources.) By the time they returned to the Ghostly Minstrel, the others were awake and they breakfasted together.

The Freeport’s Sword was due to arrive that day, but – as Tee had learned – it was unlikely to arrive until the afternoon. They decided to spend the morning attending to minor chores and the like.

Elestra decided to spend the morning gathering information from around town. But as soon as she walked out the door and bought a newssheet, she turned right around and went back inside.

“Shilukar has escaped.”

There’s a question I’ve been asked a few times about the newssheets that appear throughout the In the Shadow of the Spire campaign journal: Are these props that you’ve prepped? Are the players actually reading through these articles at the table?

Short answer: No.

I’m not averse to ginning up full newspaper articles as props for the players. I created quite a few of them as part of my Eternal Lies remix, for example, even going so far as to purchase actual newsprint paper that could they could be printed on.

Bonus Tip: You can easily find period-appropriate newspaper ads online. To go the extra mile, print the ads on the back of the sheet. Now, when you cut out the article, it will look like an actual clipping.

Bonus Bonus Tip: Take half of your newsprint and store it on a shelf in direct sunlight. Take the other half and make sure it’s hidden away in a dark closet. Newsprint yellows surprisingly quickly, and you’ll shortly have a supply of paper for both aged clippings from the morgue and new ones from today’s paper.

In fact, I’d originally planned to do something similar for this campaign, likely involving full daily broadsheets that I could hand out. There are a couple reasons, though, why this never panned out.

First, I wasn’t happy with the results I was getting. I’m not a fan of producing something that looks like a modern newspaper for a D&D-esque fantasy city like Ptolus; it feels anachronistic and cheap. Even historical analogues don’t quite feel “right” to me, and the aesthetics still weren’t great. There was some room for correction here: In my head canon, the newssheets of Ptolus are produced by enchanted quills, not a Gutenbergian printing press. Unfortunately, I just lacked either the artistic skill or vision to produce something that felt “right” to me.

In short, I just wasn’t getting much value-add from this.

Second, it was obviously very time-consuming: Both the trial-and-error of the graphical design and the work that would have gone into writing up all of the articles in detail.

In the Shadow of the Spire is a big campaign: There’s a lot of adventures. There are lots of factions and NPCs in motion at any given time. There are backdrops and subplots and chaos lorebooks. There’s just a lot of stuff, and I am kept more than busy enough juggling all of it!

The principles of smart prep decree that you should only spend your prep time on stuff that you can’t improvise at the game table, and fully written newssheets would definitely qualify. But smart prep also means prioritizing: Your time is not infinite. Your resources are not infinite. There’s a limit to how much you can achieve, and so you want to prioritize prepping, first, the essential, and then whatever’s most important and/or most rewarding.

For this specific campaign, the limited value of the newssheets bumped them down and then off the priority list.

So I launched the campaign without newssheet props, instead satisfying myself with a short section in my campaign status document:

NEWSSHEETS

• Has a story about another high-profile robbery in the Nobles’ District, which is being attributed to Shilukar. The master thief and mage is said to have broken into Dallaster Manor and assaulted the Dallaster’s daughtetr and heiress, Tillian.
• More reports of ratmen openly prowling the streets of the Warrens after dark. The City Watch still refuses to patrol the streets, although they say that they have increased their patrols along Old Sea Road to keep the problem contained

(This section has since grown to become considerably larger.)

Initially, I believed that I would later find the time to start prepping these newssheets, but I never did.

I also discovered in play that either the pace of the campaign or the inclinations of the players led to a pace where the “news of the day” was actually being split up and parceled out in smaller chunks throughout he day: The PCs were checking the newssheets (or their equivalent) not just once a day, but in the morning, around noon, in the afternoon, and in the evening (or some combination thereof).

So even if I’d started out writing up full newssheets, I might have ended up dropping the idea because it lacked flexibility: The props would be cool, but for this campaign they would be a less useful tool. I need to be able to flexibly figure out how to dole out the headlines to the players depending on when and where they’re trying to snag them, how events have evolved as a result of the PCs’ recent actions, and even the form in which the PCs are trying to find the information.

(And, as noted, some of those forms in actual play aren’t even newssheets.)

Campaign Journal: Session 38A – Running the Campaign: Heists That Just Work
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 37D: Affairs of the Evening

“He’s going to come looking for us,” Agnarr said.

“Not if he can’t get out of the prison,” Elestra said.

“If they couldn’t keep him in his cell, how likely is it they’ll keep him in the prison?” Tee asked.

“If he hasn’t gotten out already,” Tor said.

When Sera Nara arrived at the beginning of Session 37, collected Dominic, and disappeared into the night with him, this was because, sadly, Dominic’s player was leaving the campaign.

Dominic was gone.

I’ll have more to say about Dominic’s departure (and the ensuing consequences) in future installments of Running the Campaign, but for the moment I want to discuss the most immediate consequences: The party had lost its most powerful and dedicated healer.

One of the most basic foundations of tactics and strategy in D&D (and many other RPGs) boils down to a simple mathematical question: How much damage can you take vs. how much damage can you deal out? There are obviously A LOT of variables here that complicate things substantially, but on the “how much damage can you take” side of the equation the big X-factors are:

• What are your maximum hit point totals?
• How many hit points of healing can you do each day?

An important secondary consideration with healing is how fast you can add hit points to the active pool. (A periapt that can heal up to 1,000 hp per day at a rate of 1 hp per round is an incredible “deep reservoir,” but probably won’t help you keep standing in the middle of a fight where your opponents are dealing out 30 points of damage per hit.)

The departure of Dominic hits the group across the board:

• Their maximum hit point total has been reduced by his hit point count.
• Their maximum healing potential per day is drastically reduced.
• Without their specialized healer, their rate of healing per round is also drastically reduced.
• There are now fewer PC targets in combat, meaning damage will become more concentrated.

This is a really risky moment for most groups. In my experience, far riskier than they may realize.

The trick is that most groups – even groups with a lot of experience and skill – don’t really think deeply about this sort of stuff. They aren’t, for example, doing explicit analysis of their hit points vs. healing vs. damage output. Instead, over the course of the campaign, they’ve developed a sort of evolving gut instinct for what they can handle and how fights are going to play out.

It can be really easy to know that you’ve lost a PC and understand that it’s going to have an impact, but then drastically underestimate the actual impact it’s going to have. The loss of a PC – particularly a primary healer liker Dominic – isn’t a linear loss of capability. It’s more like an exponential one.

That means the group’s gut instinct is going to be LYING to them. Not only will they be prone to biting off more than they can chew, but when a fight goes south on them it’s going to go really bad and spiral out of control much faster than they anticipate.

Fortunately, in this case, the players were at least partially aware of the danger. Throughout Session 37, you can see it affecting their decision-making: They’re more conservative in the dangers they’re willing to face, and they’re more cautious in engaging with those dangers.

Complicating this even further, however, is that YOUR gut instinct, as the GM, is also going to be skewed. So it can be quite possible for you to push them into the abyss without meaning to. When you lose a player (and corresponding PC), therefore, you’ll want to spend a few sessions being hyper-alert to this until your gut has a chance to readjust.

Tip: One way you could help adjust for this a bit is to level up the other PCs in the group ASAP after losing a player. The extra power up will partially compensate for their diminished capacity.

You can, of course, experience this same danger even if a player is only missing for a session or two, rather than permanently departing.

So check your gut.

Campaign Journal: Session 37E – Running the Campaign: Newssheets
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index