NDT 21 Play Report: Hutakaan Temple

#529. Anubis, a photo by hawhawjames on Flickr.

Our group left the scene of the battle, and allowed the Traldarans to escort us back to one of their encampments. Like their lowland brethren, the Traldarans are a stiff-necked lot, coarse, bad-tempered, and unreceptive to wisdom, more likely persuaded by displays of power than reason and insight. They do not know of any way out of the Lost Valley, and hope to achieve secure freedom by eliminating their Hutakaan overlords. That campaign began three seasons ago and they have had considerable success, including the take-over of the Hutakaan temple about a month ago.
The Hutakaans have tried several times to re-capture their temple. And, various evil undead things have been coming out of it. So our group proposaed and the Traldarans agreed that we should go inside, find out what’s there and destroy it.
The temple was a large stone rectangular building with a dome roof and, according to the Traldarans, an extensive network of underground chambers, most of which they had not explored. Roger climbed up on the roof and, peering through a hole in the dome, confirmed that the main Temple room was safe to enter. The Traldarans opened the main doors and our group entered, accompanied by two of the Traldarans. The most notable feature in the Temple room was a pit surrounded by blue flame and with a person-sized cage hanging over it. Roger climbed on top of the cage so that he could peer into the pit. Darkness.
Leaving the Temple room, we immediately encountered a large group of re-animated skeletons and walking corpses. Pavel and Nitely, calling on Halav, Petra, Zirchev introduced the formerly benighted Traldarans to their powerful and benevolent gods and obliterated the undead horrors.
Beneath the temple, our group discovered a Hutakaan crypt containing still more of the restless dead. Not just skeletons and zombies. But also “fast zombies” whose mere touch will kill most mortals, and who gave the stalwart Olimarus a little cold taste of death. And, in a disgusting pantomime of life above, a long-dead, jackal-headed Hutakaan despot, his mummified remains most unnaturally preserved and animated with evil, lorded over the other undead. Like the flesh-and-blood Hutakaans, this mummy was something of a coward. Late to join the battle, it was destroyed by Martin’s magic fire, by Olimarus’s hammer, and by Roger’s well-timed shot with a vial of holy water.
In searching the crypt, we claimed the mummy’s crown and scepter, and found a narrow unworked tunnel descending still lower into the earth. Eager to share news of our success with the Traldarans, we resealed the secret tunnel and returned to the surface.

Play report: The really bad thing about cobras spitting poison in yourface . . .

Blind Warrior, a photo by nkimadams on Flickr.

Our party (two fighters, an elf, and a cleric) took refuge for the night in what seemed to be a nice enough place—no beasties, secure doors, and enough room to stretch our limbs a little. But doors secure against other people are not secure against spitting cobras. We had a watch, but we were badly prepared for the surprise intrusion. The potion we’d purchased in town saved the life of Lobo the fighter, but Aberdeen was blinded. (The cobras got all deaded.) Also, although "special pants" are a good defense against cobra spit, rubbing the pants on your already-damaged eyes is inefficacious.

With a mixture of defiance and fatalism, we got up, put on our armor, and delved deeper. Aberdeen accepted his new role as torch bearer and walked with one hand on someone’s shoulder.

SNAKES! And chutes, and ladders. Also rats.

(not a)baby snake (Northern Ringneck), a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

A long-time player took a turn at running a game last week and she's doing a great job running a dungeon based on the "chutes/snakes & ladders" boardgame. This may be her entry to the one-page dungeon contest so I won't give too much away, but will instead talk about my character . . .

On second thought, I'll make this brief: his name is Aberdeen, he's fighter, and his movement rate is 3.

This is the first time I've applied encumberance with any exactness. The Labyrinth Lord rules make it inexcusably easy to calculate and the GM said we should know how much we weigh. Chainmail, shield, weapons, food & water plus standard dungeon equipment like rope and torches. And I'm encumbered!

NDT 14: Area hermit, dwarf nearly bite it

After seeing one of his associates enveloped by a semi-intelligent mass of neurotoxin in the form of an eight-foot tall, transparent and gelatinous cube, Pavel, Bishop of the Thicket tentatively set about attempting a single-handed rescue only to stumble into the cube himself. According to an unidentified eye-witness, the cleric, who had recently assisted his fellow “adventurers” first in “defeating” that weird-guy-in-a-yellow-robe-who-actually-bought-one-of-those-dragon-beds-from-the-sharper-image-catalog-as-if-he-actually-expected-a-woman-would-want-to-look-at-that-while-well-let’s-not-even-go-there-he-was-living-in-a-TOWER-can-you-say-compensating-much . . . and then in “outsmarting” the weird guy’s pet steer, was perhaps burdened with excessive hubris beyond even that commonly associated with a holy scourge of law. According to witnesses, after standing there and watching the rest of his “party” (woo-hoo), put distance between themselves and the aberrations which had so no-handedly incapacitated their companion (who is an outlander), Pavel moved in the exact opposite direction and actually got closer to the cubes. Contrary to the expert opinion of sages who state that all cubes, regardless of their composition, have no means of locomotion and that the self-important and deluded fool must have been “seeing a vision” and just walked right into what by all rights should have been his final and complete demise, Pavel himself asserts that “The unnatural composition of deadliest poison so animated by the evil intelligence that labors in constant rebellion against the unchangeable and insurmountable precepts of law went aquivering and ajivering and slidng across the stone floor just as if it had slipped off a porcelain platter onto a lopsided buffet table.”

Gelatinous Cube (detail), a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

His quick thinking companions, following through what one explained “was the whole plan all along” assaulted their gelatinous foe with burning oil and magic fire. Stefan, an area horse-trader whom the adventurers had found tied to a chair on the third floor of the weird guy’s tower (Related story in Life, D5) explains that this wasn’t metagaming since, “It’s just common knowledge or even logic that a sword just isn’t going to do much to something that lacks a skeletal, circulatory, or nervous system. But fire—or heat of any kind— will affect most any substance, whether causing rapid oxidization or a state change. In this case, it was the latter, and the liquid form proved to be entirely inert. Again, I want to thank Pavel, the dwarf, and their thoroughly capable friends for extricating me from what was starting to look like an inextricable situation. Now if they can help me find my lost tapestry.”

NDT 11: Elves. Ick.

Kaylyth "Crossroads" Farrar, a photo by rosaumbra on Flickr.

This session was kind of a “ride along” for Pavel, in part just because I wasn’t in the mood to do the kind of things that would slow down the main plotline. We made our way back to Sukiskyn, fighting some wolves along the way. Pyotr reacted stoically to the news that we hadn’t yet found his brother, but only the news that he had been taken to “Xitaqa,” a place that no one had heard of. We decided to make our way to Rifllian, sell the horses and other goods we had acquired, and hopefully find someone with specialized knowledge in forgotten places. Although Pavel himself finds large groups of elves even more unsettling than large groups of his own kind, the party as a whole seemed to find their stay in Rifllian very restful. The DM memorably described Rifllian as a kind of tourist trap, a compromise between elven and human sensibilities that leaves both unsatisfied. But we sold those horses and took our share. Pavel now has more money than he’s ever seen and no idea what to do with it. Get a dog? But the best ones are free.

Full story

Street dogs, Udaipur, a photo by Dey on Flickr.

NDT 10: ransacking

The bulk of the goblins' treasure was held by their chief and stored under or in his throne, and included an ancient and well-made shield that was claimed by Pavel. And he carried it into melee after failing once more to turn the undead creatures that beset the party, in this case three of the especially horrid re-animations of hobgoblins that Pavel himself had once encountered in the Caves of Chaos. Not only did turning the thouls fail, but so did attempts to lure them into a pit or burn down the roof on top of them. It was Roger who took on this last effort. When Cromartie heard him get dragged down from the roof, the rest of the party rushed into the Thoul's lair and hacked and slashed them Surprisingly satisfying after all the failed attempts to get creative. And then we ransacked their master's chambers. No sign of the map we expected to find to help us find Xitaqa, the place where the goblins had taken Stefan.

Night's Dark Terror Session 9: 5,000 gobbos

There we were . . . gobos shooting us with arrows as we crossed the bridge, and then ambushing us from behind. And when we crossed the bridge and entered their noisome den, it was demon dogs assailing us from all sides, while the cowardly gobbos shot at us from the darkness. Did I despair? No, I called on the Law and our enemies were transfixed. And then a great figure of scourgingsmitning appeared to aid us, driving the demon dogs yelping like puppies before a toddling child with a threshing flail. We rested and Lo! the lawless gobos broke in upon our rest. For this they were thoroughly scourged, smited, smitten, smitened, desmittened, and destroyed. And like the burst of driving rain that sweeps the garbage and shit and dead rats and the little nasty bugs crawling over the whole mess right down the alley into the gutter and then through the town into the river, so we the driving rain of Law swept through the goblin’s hall and killed their disgusting king and shivered his throne into pieces!

goblin, a photo by earlywill on Flickr.

Night's Dark Terror Session Eight: demon fish and attacking the goblin stronghold

Pavel: “Allele did not return because he was DEVOURED by a legion of vicious demon fish!” (raises his left hand to show jagged lump of scar tissue at the base of his thumb; reaches his right hand into his pocket to pull out the dried, crumbling remains of a coldwater piranha) “It could have happened to me, it could happen to you.

a photo by mario dns (Mess-45590-2€ da fisso- 1€ sms) on Flickr.

“That’s how we decided that the time for sneaking around had passed and that it was time to confront evil head on.”

Night's Dark Terror, Session 7

The party moved through a forest of stone. More than petrified wood, the trees, most of them still standing, bore branches, leaves, birds and their nests all turned to grain stone. They locaed the lair of the Wolfskull goblins, a rough fortification of stacked stone logs on the other side of a dark river crossed by a narrow river. They moved up river and then sent Allelle down to the river to scout. He hasn’t returned.

york, a photo by zoe seed on Flickr.

PM of 13th - Moldain, 14th Thaumont AC1000

Night's Dark Terror, Session 5

Pavel: "My hopes that Law has a purpose for these people, beyond chasing horses and gold has been encouraged by their decision to attempt the rescue of a good Traldaran who was captured by goblins in one of their raids. As a man of experience, I realize that he already been butchedred, cooked, and eaten, but I keep this to myself, allowing my companions' ambition to encourage their valor and other virtues. Tracking the cowardly goblins has likewise presented hardships-- in the form of cold, rain, darkness, hard beds and hard food-- that stregthens the character of a good man, even while it drives the wicked to increasingly desperate act. Time (and additional hardships!) will surely provide future proof to which camp each of us belongs. (That includes your Pavel. While I may be inured to natural hardships and have faced death in the eyes of embodied evil, I sense temptations and challenges before of forms too terrible to imagine.) Even today, we encountered and slew a terrible wolf that in death showed its true form to be that of a Traldaran man. Today a man in the form of a wolf, tomorrow perhaps we meet a wolf in the form of a man! For any of us, death may come at any time. "

Gromdain, 12 Thaumont AC 1000 (& early AM Tserdain, the 13th)

yellow moon, a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

You are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this (Night's Dark Terror, Session 4)

I missed session 3, in which the party defended Sukiskyn from goblin raiders. Although they were repelled, the goblins did manage to steal a large number of horses were stolen and in session 4, we went after them, under an agreement that we’d be allowed to keep half(?) of those we recovered. We tracked the goblins to a small, human settlement a few hours away, recovered the horses and brought them back to Sukiskyn. In the morning, a small of group of men approached Sukiskyn, explaining that their own settlement had been attacked and Stefan (brother to Pyotr, our host at Sukiskyn) had been kidnapped. More details can be found here: Soladain, 10 Thaumont AC 1000

This rest of this post is a rambling editorial, looking at why my character Pavel, the cleric, is on this adventure or why any cleric goes on any adventure.







It’s kind of stupid to ask, “Why does my character even want to go on this adventure?” A good answer is, “Why are you even here in my basement?”

But you'll keep reading anyway. Some other answers . . .

Because you’re the strongest, smartest, most generally capable man in the village and if you don’t go kill that Thing, it will come here and kill all of us.

Because you’re too lazy to work, too imprudent to save . . . too shiny to go without and too sexy to care . . . and that Thing is sitting on a big pile of gold.

Because that Thing’s as old as the world and it . . . knows things.

Because you took care of a lot of widows and orphans last week and preached a bang-up sermon yesterday and by golly you deserve your day to recharge like anyone else! And maybe, besides the Thing, there’s a vampire in that cave, and you can kill that, too.

With clerics, it’s hard. Although most members of the priestly caste are insulated from danger, life's random deprivations, even the need to go out and make a living, there are some who exile themselves from the comfort most other adventurers are, at least nominally seeking. In Pavel's case, he was a young acolyte who went into the wilderness for twenty years. That’s long enough to go crazy, and not long enough to get back.

The adventure associated with Night’s Dark Terror is pretty straight-forward: help us get these valuable white horses for a cut of their sale price. That could happen in our world. Goblins and ankhegs take the place of rustlers and injuns. Or to be more narrowly contemporary, speed traps and intestinal worms. (It's just the horses who have worms. Probably).

And the low-fantasy realism of it makes it even harder to explain why the priest-man is there.

He has access to very powerful painkillers and anti-biotics.

In the last game, he was also able to warn Allelle, an Elf Fighter/ Mage about the dangers of consorting with goblins. About an hour after we met a goblin in a tree—whom Allelle communicated with using the disgusting creature’s own perverted language— we met another elf, a woman, who was living in the company of goblins, and whom we shot dead. Slippery slope. Lie down with dogs. (Some of the sharper members of the party think she may have been a hostage, but don’t tell Pavel.)

Pavel is a Traldaran, and has a strong suspicion of not only non-humans, but even non-Traldarans—i.e. Thyatians. At the goblins camp, they found dead prisoners in the huts and almost his first thought was, “Are these Traldarans?” Is it still Xenophobia when those who aren’t your kind want to eat you? (Either literally, with the goblins, or metaphorically, in the case of the Thyatians who are consuming Traldaran resources and obliterating Traldaran culture.)

Pavel rejects the creature comforts of civilization but he hasn't necessarily adapted to the wilderness either. Rather, he endures. And maybe deprivation and fear associated with the wilderness are in some ways easier to grapple with the spirtiual threats presents by city life. Or even outpost-in-the-forest life.

IMG_0230, a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

One of the great features of D&D is the leveling system and the qualified expectation that a band of impoverished adventures will one day be heroes. And this gives some credence to Pavel’s otherwise baseless “prophecy” that this is not just about horses and getting paid, but at some point we will be called to do something really important in the service of Law. (Never mind that Pavel may be the only Lawful member of the party, that’s all part of the prophecy.)

Night's Dark Terror, Part 2

My character, Pavel, missed the first episode, but I'm very glad to play this very well-regarded module. After his sucess in smiting a tribe of hobgoblins into oblivion, Pavel migrated to more civilized lands to the south, committed to protecting his fellow Traldarans and their faith from the corrupting influence of the Thyatians.

And so he found himself on a boat, and that boat attacked by slavers. Pavel prayed and his fellow passengers were victorious. They captured one of the slavers and ordered him to bring him to their camp. The long slog through marsh in a light rain and growing darkness gave Pavel an opportunity to re-affirm his disdain for physical comfort and his dedication to the Law. The slaver's camp was deserted. The slavers, vainly fleeing from the punishment that lives inside them, had abandoned their comrade and left many crude and cowardly devices of the type used for entrapping animals. The captured slaver, confronted by the sudden awareness that he was soon to receive just payment for his career of cruelty, made a desperate attempt to flee-- and perished in one of pits dug by his fellow blackhearts. Sometimes, it seems, the Law has a sense of humor.

Pavel and the others returned to the boat and, the next morning, continued their voyage. They were put ashore at a hut in the forest, from which they would continue on land in the morning. The owner was gone, but having learned that she was a faithful Traldaran, Pavel knew that she would gladly extend hospitality to a man of the Faith and made himself at hom, santicfying her rude home with his prayers. And a few hours later, Pavel would return the favor by preparing her final earthly home, and saying the prayers to send her off to her next one. Roger-- one of the other travelers, discovered her body while fishing off the dock. Strange signs for strange times.

As night fell, the travelers shuttered themselves inside the hut. They refused entry to the bear.

Do Not Stop For Hitchhikers, a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

under the wizard's tower

nur das feuer?, a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

We worked some more with the riddle, learned a new word (widderschynnes) and figured out how to open the secret door. The entire staircase pivoted away from the wall, revealing a narrow hole inside the wall of the tower itself. It went down, and the party descended. (Minus Strathbogie who is recuperating from a bad bite from a zombie wolf.)

Below the wizard's tower, the party found a maze trapped with pits and glyphs. At the center of the maze, there was a metal statue that came to life whenever someone was incapitated by a trip. The statue "rescued" the trap's victim and marched them back to the small room at the base of the tower.

flash, a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

Salt and Iron

Having driven away the goblins, the heroes got in touch with their inner reavers and cutpurses and started looking for treasure . . .

Strathbogie, Dreyfus, and Rusty found one of the wolves, chewing on what turned out to be "the bucket." In the vicinity, we found a pouch full of iron coins and a few dull white crystals. After licking one of the crystals, Dreyfus pronounced it to be salt. The coins aren't like the one's pictured, but showed a wolf's head from a straight-on "portrait" angle. (For some reason the Romans really seemed to the wolf head in profile.) I found this detail really evocative-- generally gold pieces don't sound like coins to me, but like experience points.

There is also a riddle in the tower (something about a lonely mother), and frescoes of stars and comets, and six secret compartments in the spiral staircases.

While we were messing around with all this, the goblins came back-- they didn't attack us, but instead picked on the nearly defenseless orkin who were out trying to gather food.

Time to slay the heathen! (And lock the war!(?))

new digs

Front door, a photo by biktopincanada on Flickr.

This was a really great session. After thwarting the goblins' attack on the Viper Clan Compund, we mounted a swift counter-attack. We went into it thinking that after picking off a few easy targets, we'd have to retreat before the main force. Instead the "retreat" was mutual. We dealt with the two wolf-riders on patrol outside, and the successive waves of defenders were badly-organized. We stayed until their leaders called everyone back inside the tower. We had no casualties and returned to the Viper compound with a "prisoner," a charmed goblin named Nebling.

Nebling gave us some details about the goblins forces, and gave us the impression that we had significantly reduced their number, especially the number of wolf-riders-- but that they had associates would be returning soon. We resolved to attack the next day.

Our plan was to split into two groups, with one group distracting and dispatching the wolf-rider guards outside and anyone on top of the tower, while the other group secured the door closed from the outside. Next, we would scale the side of the tower and attack from above, hoping that at least we'd only have to deal with goblins and not wolves, and might even be able to make use of burning oil.

The problem with the plan was that, it didn't prepare for contingencies, even beneficial ones such as the fact that there were no wolf-riders on patrol. The "wolf group" went ahead and scaled the tower while the "door group" had trouble with some pits. Rather than hold the door itself, the "door group" created a nice mess of grasping weeds right in front of the door. The group on top of the tower just held the trap door closed.

The goblins panicked and were routed. Unfortunately, the goblin's shaman escaped, and the dead body of their captain, now doubt laden with treasure, was carried off by a fleeing wolf. But we got a tower in Mor!

SLEEP!

Forest Flower (Oriental Poppy - papaver oriental), a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

Strathbogie brought the awesome power of forced slumber down on the maurading goblins. We'd recruited a large war party, adding Dusty (experienced adventurer) and Robbo (adapt of the temple of divine purpose) plus 5 wage-earning men-at-arms. Our trip to Mor and to the the Viper Clan's palisade was not without incident (a big rock ate one of the men-at-arms) and as we were arriving, a band of goblins attacked us.

The Viper clansman wanted to rush us into the palisade, but we were at full-strength and could boast some element of surprise. So we held our ground, threw big magic, and shot down the stragglers. One worg got away unfortunately.

Our plan now is to attack the goblins at the tower before they have a chance to organize.

Party!

what have we here?, a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

It started as a wake. For the hirelings who died while we were fighting the Gargoyle. And for Thakko, who loved the ocean (from afar). Some other things happened, and when Strathbogie woke up, he found that he had received a secret mark, that of the Red Bull. (Or Winged Bull? The mark is in a place where it's hard for Strathbogie to see.)

Other news . . .

Ysden's friend Hardtack was found dead in the swamp, and he didn't do it.

Mendel the swamp magician found the body, but he didn't do it either, even though it was just punishment for the man's treatment of Mendel's friends the giant centipedes, and even though it's clear that the killing was done by wild beasts.

When Dreyfus went to the myriadrome he got beer dumped on him and attacked by one of the centipedes. That's strange in a way. Strange as in ha ha.

Brigitta has discovered that when wild honey is mixed with wine, it loses its addictive properties!

Strathbogie's stubborn friends

Gargoyle, a photo by Vicki & Chuck Rogers on Flickr.

An old adventurer named "Gummy" had given the party a lead on a treasure-enrcihed tomb inside of more. Known as the tomb of the four gargoyles, and identified by a curious mark that he drew on paper, the tomb was said to be found "due west of the breach."

In the course of locating the tomb, Strathbogie had several great ideas that were ignored by the rest of the party. First, they were too cowardly and untrusting to introduce themselves properly at the Orkin village located "due west of the breach" and after ingratiating ourselves, inquiring there of the location of the tomb.
Second there were too many other good ideas offered and ignored to even begin to rememer here, excpept that after we found the gargoyle and had him throughly entangled in weeds and vines (this was the doing of Mendel, a swamp man, although Strathbogie has started learning earth magic himself, too), everyone despaired of how to destroy the foul monster, which made from magic could only be harmed by magic, and we boasted only one magic sword among us and no warriors brave enough to wade in among the thrashing vines to engage in hand-to-hand (or even sword-to-back) combat. What is the need for bravery when wit abounds? We had a magic sword and we had a rope-- were there no clever sorts among us who could so afix the rope to the sword, and-- in imitation of those hunters who bestride the waves throwing barbs at leviathans so as to extract that slow-burning vicosity by whose flame the scholar pores over his books long into the night, TO WHIT, WHALERS-- by as many tries as there are rounds in ten turns, hurl the sword at the monster, and then snatch it back by way of the rope to make another strike? So it would seem. Fillory, an agreeable lass, was half-persuaded, but Isden would not release his sword. Strathbogie tried to resolve the dilema and got hit on the head for his trouble. Needless to say, the monster remains at large.

Strathbogie is nearly certain that it was Dreyfus who knocked him out with the back of his axe. He also believes that, in some way beyond mortal understanding, Dreyfus is associated with Thakko's violent death. Sure Dreyfus "seems trustworthy." But why did he just pop out of nowhere, the day after Thakko was killed?

Lesserton Play Report: field trip

earth and sky, a photo by Brayo on Flickr.

Strathbogie: "We allowed this Swamp Man (Mendel is his name, and he was once a carpenter in Lesserton before he got turned-on to Earth Magic) to lead us on an excursion where we walked a full day through swamp, marsh, bog, and quagmire-- and then a second day over a blasted heath but little better suited for the comfort and sanity of humans. And at the end of it all, there was a cave full of bones. Isden, with his eye for coin, found barely enough to pay for the hard-tack we've eaten on the way here and a bowl of soup at the Original when we return. But all the same, I'm intrigued by this Earth Magic, the two bowls carved into the rock of the cave, one stained, the other clean."

Lesserton Play Report: Swamp Justice II

Critter from Above a photo by Furryscaly on Flickr.

Sometimes it’s you who gets justice and sometimes it’s justice that gets you. Strathbogie has never enjoyed the Centipede Races. But he knows it’s part of what makes Lesserton special. And so when Isden found an opportunity to get in with the fine folks who raise the best racers by collecting some young pedes from the swamp, he was honored to be a part of it. And it looked like an easy harmless way to make a living. Trek out to a little island of rock and spindly trees an hour out in the swamp, make the baby centipedes sleep, and then scoop then into sacks. But then things went South. Mommy centipedes showed up. (“The females are always the most vicious.”) The spindly trees and vines and weeds sprang up and pulled us down to the soggy turf.

And then one of the swamp people showed up to give us a lecture about letting wild things stay wild. He made us promise to let the centipedes go. And told us he could tell if he were lying. We agreed. And Strathbogie is trying to figure out how he does that trick of knowing when people are lying.