Session 3: Dreams

Cormick (Summoner 3): Menoan transplant, scribe, and shopkeeper.
Erasmus Ghent (Abjurer 3): An apothecary from Rustidge.
Kheshef (Barbarian 3): An escaped slave turned mason.
Luka (Rogue 3): Vagrant follower of Kheshef.
Nicholai (Archer 3): A mercenary from Edelford.
Norben Fletcher (Cleric 3): Itinerant preacher.

The group lies in wait for the Menoans. The second scouting party enters Edelford and is ambushed, quickly succumbing to the group’s carefully laid trap. One of the scouts is captured alive and interrogated by Norben, who skillfully goads the arrogant captive into revealing Menoa’s motive for invading Syre; King Meno’s apprentice, Maldus, seeks an artifact hidden in the Cursed Forest. The Menoan fanatic is brutally slain by Kheshef once it is determined he is of no more use.

After some deliberation, the group decides to head north to Albrecht’s Vale in an attempt to capture the artifact before Maldus and his men. Pushing the horses they arrive in less than two days. While Nicholai warns an outlying farm of the Menoan force’s approach and the others search the abandoned town, Erasmus and Cormick use previously gathered materials to conjure a demon into a protective circle. The lust demon appears as a naked woman with snakes in lieu of hair and flirts with the pair until a deal is struck: information in exchange for a promise from Cormick.

Cormick and Erasmus learn that the wizard Temeris lived in Albrecht’s Vale roughly four hundred years prior and that the town’s barracks are built over the ruin of his home. Also, that Maldus seeks a relic reputed to empower enchantments involving sleep, but does not know precisely where in the Cursed Forest it is hidden. Hoping for a clue to its resting place, the group investigates the barracks. Luka finds a trapdoor during a thorough search of the ground floor and reveals an earthen passage beyond.

Temeris’s home is a warren of stone passageways and secret doors. Piles of moldering debris line the walls and rotting furniture fills otherwise empty rooms. The only room safe from the creeping mold is the library, which is trapped with a circle that magically animates objects that pass through it. The animated objects attack the group, but are put down quickly and with minimal injury. In fact, the weapons affected by the trap appear to have a lingering magical aura; a minor and unexpected boon.

In continued exploration of the ruins, the group finds an oubliette from which a strong breeze emanates, a rushing underground stream, a large mess hall, and a stunted tree. When Kheshef touches the tree he is knocked unconscious, and, when shaken awake, claims to have had a strange dream featuring an old man. He remembers only the words, “Nightmare Diamond”. Luka touches the tree next and claims a similar experience. All save Erasmus appear to be affected by the tree’s magic, and each visits a strange dream to return with vague memories. The group decides to have Erasmus watch over them as they touch the tree in tandem.

Launched into a dream world, the group finds themselves in the bodies of Temeris’s apprentices as they sit down to dinner with the aged wizard. The ruined mess hall found upstairs is the scene, now returned to habitable condition. The group grills Temeris about the Nightmare Diamond and its source, the Howling Mine; names remembered from previous interactions with the tree. The master denies his students any information about the Nightmare Diamond or the Howling Mine, assuring them that the mine is sealed forever and the Nightmare Diamond safely hidden.

Throughout the dreams, Temeris insists that he has been questioned time and time again about both objects, but remains adamant in his denials. No further information is gleaned on the whereabouts of the Nightmare Diamond or the contents of the chest in Temeris’s room.

Puzzled, but now more certain of the Nightmare Diamond’s resting place in the heart of the Cursed Forest, the group heads west. They tether their beleaguered horses in a meadow near the edge of the forest and continue following the river on foot. After a few hours of rough woodland terrain, including an avoided encounter with dire wolves sunning themselves on some large rocks, the group reaches a foot path running perpendicular to their own course. Intrigued, they follow the path to a stone bridge that crosses the river.

The smell of rotting meat is strong as they approach the bridge. Kheshef moves to investigate beneath while, in jest, wishing aloud that he hopes no troll is present. Unfortunately, one is, and a bloody combat ensues. Kheshef is brutally attacked and tossed aside, but Norben rescues Kheshef and the group subdues the troll as it attempts to climb up the bank. It wakes as it floats downstream but is quickly put down again and finally killed with a heroic, leaping attack by Luka. Its bag of rotting meat and treasure is pulled from beneath the bridge as the group recovers its strength.

Extra Padding

No, I am not talking about my waistline. I picked up a copy of the Pathfinder Core Rulebook on Saturday, a useful purchase considering that I am currently DM for two Pathfinder games. Among other subtle changes between 3.5 and Pathfinder, I noticed that death occurs at negative hit points equal to the character's Constitution score (e.g. -16 for a Constitution 16 character) rather than -10.

During the last game session of the Three Kingdoms campaign, Kheshef the "half-orc" Barbarian was brought to -7 by a troll. I actually did enough damage to bring Kheshef to -10 and "fudged" the roll because I felt it created a more interesting situation; the dying Kheshef was tossed into the river and the party needed to react immediately to save him from drowning or bleeding out, versus watching his lifeless, eviscerated corpse wash downstream. If we had been using the correct Pathfinder rule, rather than the 3.5 rule, Kheshef would still have had a few rounds to live at -10.

I like the change because it gives front line characters some extra time to be saved by comrades. In contrast, 4th edition gives all characters an enormous positive and negative health pool. A 3rd level Barbarian with attributes similar to Kheshef's would have something like 24 negative hit points, a 10th level Warden can easily hit -50. It's interesting that in 3.x, negative hit point pools are a scarce resource while 4th edition made them inconsequential (all healing begins at 0, effectively negating actions that target characters below 0 hit points that do not deal a killing blow). It feels like, once again, Pathfinder struck an excellent balance between 3.5 and 4.

Session 1: The Curse

Cormick (Summoner 1): Menoan transplant, scribe, and shopkeeper.
Erasmus Ghent (Abjurer 1): Local apothecary.
Kheshef (Barbarian 1): An escaped slave turned mason.
Luka (Rogue 1): Vagrant follower of Kheshef.
Norben Fletcher (Cleric 1): Itinerant preacher.

The group wakes on a crisp spring morning to an eerily silent Rustidge. The residents of the large mining town, save the five individuals that gather outside the inn, are trapped in an enchanted slumber. Unsure of a course of action, the small group skirts the town green, eerily abuzz with swarming crows, and arrives outside the chapel hoping for guidance.

The chapel’s door stands open and the motionless forms of sleeping townsfolk can be seen on the floor and in pews. Upon entry, a stooped, half-rat, half-human demon and its hellish rat servants, identified as a lesser pestilence demon and its spawn, attack the group. After the death of the first spawn at the hands of Cormick's summoned ally, red energy coalesces from the withering corpse and floats to the nearest sleeping commoner. He gasps and begins to stir as the energy is absorbed into his body. As each demons falls more energy disperses and zips unnaturally towards the remaining commoners in the chapel, freeing them from the enchanted slumber.

After the encounter, as the group talks with the awakened townsfolk, Norben explores the infirmary and is set upon by another pair of the rat demons. The group rushes to his aid and, with the help of one hysterical townswoman, puts the pair and one of their spawn to rest. The energy from these demons does not revive any of those afflicted by the curse in the infirmary, but instead leaves the church through the open front door.

Still looking for a source of the curse, the group searches the cellar of the chapel and, after a few minutes of rummaging through crates and barrels, discover a recently sealed entrance by its fresh masonry. With the help of Kheshef, a brutish southerner and former slave, the wall is dismantled and a secret chamber is revealed. A summoning circle the color of dried blood stains the center of the floor and occult trappings are scattered on tables around the edges of the room; great evil was done here.

After collecting a pair of books found in the secret room, the group leaves and investigates the gathering crows in the town commons. The birds call out menacingly as the group enters the sparsely wooded green. The branches are black with crows, though Luka spots an anomaly among them: a crow demon; half-human and half-bird with razor sharp talons and a cruel beak. The demon, also a lesser servant of pestilence, incites the surrounding crows into a swarm that pecks furiously at Cormick and Norben while the others pursue the demon. With the help of Erasmus’s fire magic the swarm is dispersed and the demon is quickly vanquished by Kheshef, its energy awakening to two members of the town guard in a heap near the green’s well.

Tired, injured, and wary of another ambush, the group raids the market. Luka is able to force his way into several shops where armor, weapons and supplies are gathered. Now fully prepared, the group heads for the keep, hoping the influence of the curse does not extend beyond the edges of town. Unfortunately, the keep is motionless, two guards asleep at their posts, and Luka must scale the gatehouse with Kheshef's aid in order to open the gate. Once inside, the group scours the stables, finding nothing out of the ordinary, before discovering that the chapel is magically protected against entry. Only "those who serve the Corrupter" may bypass the wards on the front door; entrances to the chapel from the barracks and the keep are similarly barred. Frustrated, the search for clues continues.

The large keep is empty save for scattered, sleeping servants. Evidence of a small fire and burned breakfast in the kitchen point to the enchantment's onset some time in the early morning. A quick inspection of each floor finds the group in the private chambers of Lord and Lady Roels, both abed with strange charcoal marks on their foreheads. The wizard Erasmus erases the marks after it is determined they augment a tracking spell. While awaiting repercussions, Kheshef finds a spyglass and surveys the countryside to the north and south on either side of Rustidge Keep. To the south, he notices a small Menoan military camp; apparently unaffected by the curse. To the north, he sees small fires and signs that the nearby village of Edelford is both under the same spell and on fire. Having nothing left to accomplish in the keep, the group decides to head back to town.

In the castle's courtyard, two guards awakened in the village green are caught stealing horses in an attempt to flee Rustidge. Erasmus casts a spell to charm one, while the other is knocked unconscious and locked up in the dungeons. Erasmus commands his captivated friend to light all of the torches along the wall and in the keep, hopefully creating the illusion that Rustidge's residents were unaffected by the curse.

The group returns to town and, searching likely locations for agents of the Corrupter, discovers more pestilence demons feasting in a brothel. After the building is cleared, the wizard Evrard is found in one of the beds. Erasmus and Cormick discover that by focusing magical detection spells a mystical cord can be see connecting the sleeping wizard to a nearby demon. A short pursuit and bloody combat later, Evrard is awake. The ornery old man is eventually convinced that the town is in some danger and, after he is dressed, he leads the five to his house.

Painting Again

With the second session of the new Pathfinder game past, I decided it was time to paint some of the miniatures picked out by players to represent their characters. These two minis have been in my collection, primed black and wanting, for about eight years now. The first was this elfish ranger:

I’m not happy with his right hand, which has been remodeled several times and eventually pinned after breaking at the hilt. The cloak also has some strange coloration due to a repainting; I glued my finger to it while adding the sand base and subsequently ripped off parts of the base coat.

The necromancer has been half finished since the day I got it. I actually painted over some red in favor of blue-complementing brown. The runes on the scroll are clumsily painted on (this smaller resolution version of the image handily conceals my frequent erasing with white paint).

As an aside, I learned how to take pictures of miniatures with my 50mm lens. The f-stop was at 1.8 for the pictures in the previous post, which in poor light at macro distances produces an extremely narrow focus. With the f-stop increased to 5.0, near the lens’s maximum of 5.6, there is a deeper field of focus. I am pleased with the results, though the miniatures are a little shiny as the matte varnish was still wet when the pictures were taken.

Cross posted on 25mmk.

New Campaign(s)

I am super excited for a character building session tonight with the folks in my weekly D&D game. We recently retired our 4th edition campaign, which spanned from 1st to 11th level and 16 months. The last game wrapped up with our halfling Rogue retrieving the missing half of his soul from a powerful lich, a phased combat that absorbed most of the session.

The next campaign's plot will be more humble. I have a tendency to turn every story into an epic yarn with the characters at a vortex of world-shattering events. I’m devolving to a town-dungeon-castle triumvirate that houses the entire world much like one of my favorite video games, Shining in the Darkness; more recently, Torchlight (of course, no castle here). I wonder if Torchlight's creators played Shining in the Darkness?

Speaking of devolving, at least numerically, we're giving Pathfinder a try. After a handful of paragon-level combats in 4th edition I was ready to tear my hair out; tracking status effects, every player frozen in encounter or daily indecision, total inability to challenge a party with 2 leaders because some combination of healing and neutered stock monsters is broken.

I've been spending some time on terrain and modeling for the new campaigns (the above, plus the game I now run monthly for the formerly-of-Ossining crowd). My desk is currently a clutter of miniatures, paints, coffee stirrers, and more. Expect more terrain- and craft-related posts in the near future.

Lastly, I purchased my ticket for PAX East 2011!

Sage Trees

Tales of the sage trees are shared with the young as they first learn to walk; trees that stretch to the clouds, hundreds of feet tall with boles larger than a house and branches thicker than elf is tall. Sage trees are sacred to the elves. It is believed that elves possessed of great magic or spiritual enlightenment can merge consciousness with a sage tree and learn the secrets of the forest in which it grows. With proper magical guidance, a sage tree can shroud the nearby land in protective wards or stimulate growth in its flora.

Tribe elders speak of antiquity when the elves, then a single tribe named Ilduri, emigrated to the Bitter Sea region. The Ilduri carried with them seedlings of the sage trees, which they planted upon arrival. However, after a generation of tending, only a small handful of the sprouts had grown into healthy saplings; the combined magic of the Ilduri could not foster their growth.

The Ilduri splintered into smaller settlements dedicated to the tending of those groves that survived transplantation, commonly believed to be the source of the many small tribes that now speckle the Bitter Sea region. Only eleven of the imported sage trees are known to have reached maturity, of those two were destroyed. The remaining giants serve as the spiritual and physical centers of tribal life for the fractured Ilduri. The ancient plants can only be killed, they do not die of natural causes.

Ansolon

The urge to run another Dungeons and Dragons campaign grows stronger every day. Below is an idea for a campaign setting I cooked up after some discussion in IRC about whether or not the moon's destruction would end life on earth.

“The moon crumbled; a glob of bright paint on the canvas of the firmament slowly smeared from one horizon to the other. We watched and cried, our grief mirrored in the fiery tears that spilled to earth from the heavens. We witnessed a goddess fall and, though light and justice prevailed in that conflict among the gods, every night thereafter would be darker for it.”

Ansolon is a world lorded over by petty and bickering gods. It was once orbited by a small, pale moon which collapsed into a belt of dust and rocks that now cinches the planet. With the destruction of its sole satellite, Ulna, Ansolon entered a calamitous age. The days passed more quickly and raging winds tore down the ramshackle huts and canopy shelters erected by men and elves. Earthquakes, fires and floods rewrote both the surface and underbelly of the known world.

While most of the moon remained in the heavens to stripe the sky, some of its magic-laden pieces crashed to the earth. Wherever they impacted, the seeds of chaos were sown; flora and fauna mutated into twisted mockeries of the natural order, the landscape warped and the influence of the deceased goddess tainted the essence of magic and life. Ulna's servants, for everything near these descended fragments fell under the goddess's sway, now seek revenge. The night crawls with creatures infected with the dead goddess's malice and madness, bent on the desecration of Ansolon.

After 200 years, the combined efforts of the civilized races have restored some semblance of order to the seasons, but the hold is tenuous at best.

Well, maybe the stars will align and I'll find a regular group and a place to play.

I Get By

I am periodically reminded that life should not be taken quite so seriously. In this case, a man driving an SUV was loudly and poorly singing along to Joe Cocker's rendition of With a Little Help from My Friends (of The Wonder Years fame). The stop and go of rush hour afforded me several opportunities to appreciate the driver's gravelly and tuneless accompaniment, but the whole situation made me laugh, which is something I do less of than I'd like. I was returning from work and, more recently, the Compleat Strategist, where I picked up a mini for the character I'll be playing in an upcoming D&D campaign.

I jumped back into the world of gaming clubs with my participation in an NYC Dungeons & Dragons Meetup event. I ran a game for seven people which went moderately well, though glancing around at the other tables I was certainly the least prepared DM. It very much reminded me of college, of regularly storytelling a LARP for fifty friends and strangers, and those first few games where words jumble with nervous energy. I met a handful of good people and was invited to join a regular campaign meeting on Wednesdays. The game I DM regularly, set in Wake, also meets on Wednesdays, but I'm hoping to move it for an opportunity to both run and play in a campaign.

Wake development has slumped these past two weeks. I've not been feeling creative and most of my attention was focused on work. I did pound out some short descriptions of the gods, but at best they're shallow representations of what I've imagined. I feel my current campaign is uninspired. Wake could offer much more than standard party-vs.-goblins fare, and lumping all monstrous races under the umbrella of Aer is a mistake. I want to polish Lumin next, adding in settlements among the reefs and an Aethergate to an underwater metropolis. I also need to redefine what the PCs in my current campaign should be striving against. One of Warcraft's (Azeroth's, I suppose) strengths is the redefinition of playable races. I don't want quite the variety of Planescape, but offering only PHB races is a failure to utilize Wake's flexibility.

Liz and I have been playing with sprites and isometric views. I've got a little man running around on the screen and we've discussed possibilities for a mini-adventure or Tactics-style game. I actually had a dream where I played the role of a character in Tactics, which wouldn't have been all that creepy or weird except the most memorable part of the dream was my height value being displayed over my head. Overall, I feel a lot more comfortable with a two-dimensional starter project, so hopefully it bears fruit.

At work, I've been messing with WDDX and AJAX. I discovered last week that JavaScript in an XML response is not interpreted or executed. Basically, it's ignored. I am using WDDX to push a result set into an object, which can then be navigated by using the up and down arrow keys. Unfortunately, the result set is generated by an XmlHttp request, so I have to strip out the WDDX with a ridiculous regular expression (which I don't even understand, thanks Google, but can you find me a cheaper price for Mastering Regular Expressions?) and then eval() it, which raises some security and speed concerns. Research turned up no other workarounds, so my choice is implementing the regex hack or redesigning the site. Ugh. Someone remind me why I felt the need to develop my own JavaScript library for this project?