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 Recent Posts
I think I got ripped off. I paid my $6 to see this movie, and it never started. After the trailers ended, this really long recruitment ad for the Marines started up. By the time it was over, I guess there wasn't any time to show the movie because the lights came back up and everybody left. Weird. I'm pretty sure I've never seen a commercial with credits at the end of it before, but it did look like a pretty expensive commercial so I guess they wanted to thank everyone who worked on it.
Howdy, readers. The old unicorn's been a might busy teleporting here and there and all over and, for awhile there, I didn't think I'd ever get this tale told. Now that it's here, I gotta say, it's a doozy. This session's got a little bit of comedy, a whole lot of tragedy and even a little romance. I won't keep you from getting started any longer than I have to but, before we get to the story, here's the picture from the manticore battle from awhile ago. If you can't guess the story I'm referencing in this one, here's a hint: It's one of my favorites for pretty obvious reasons. DAY 127-128 S+R 4EVR featuring: The World's Largest Adventuring Party "Rags" - Nezumi (cursed human) Cleric of Sarenrae
Patreus cautiously followed the sound of what seemed to be a loud, slow bellows toward a thick, iron door. Warmth emanated from its frame in direct contrast to the bitter chill of the adjoining tunnels and the elf pressed tightly against the wall as he gently opened the door. Vwoosh! A ball of fire erupted at the center of the scorched chamber, flashing quickly before vanishing. Astonished, the alchemist waited. Vwoosh! The fireball appeared again about twenty seconds later filling the room and the hall with another blast of heat though no fire exited the room. Aside from the intermittent blast of flame, the room was empty and a dead end. After escaping a trio of minotaur guards through a warp gate with the aasimar Janus, the elf had wound up trapped in an uncomfortably cold area of the dungeon with no apparent exit beside the warp gate itself. Deciding the risk was better than the cold, Patreus leapt through the portal into the den of a monster. Technically. Gravel’s stony fingers poked at the paralyzed elf who’d emerged from the warp gate moments before. Chum’lee’s earth elemental familiar had been waiting in the small, dark chamber for days in hopes its master would appear through the strange portal. Not recognizing Patreus, the creature went back to its waiting in the corner of the room while the elf regained the feeling in his limbs. Seeing the elemental was no threat, the alchemist searched the room for an exit and came to a narrow tunnel leading out of the room. Torchlight flickered through the cracks of the door at the end of the tunnel and Patreus slowly pulled the door open to find a quartet of minotaurs in golden breastplates standing watch within the chamber. Spotting the elf through the door, one of the minotaurs shouted a warning to his companions and the alchemist was quickly apprehended and disarmed. Suspecting Patreus was not alone, the minotaurs searched the warp gate chamber and discovered Gravel, capturing the elemental and carrying it off to be studied by their sadistic priestess Ramvik. *** Rags and his companions were returning to Red Horn territory when Reg noticed a strange sound coming from the Broken Axe clan’s shrine to Zon Kuthon. Leading the party toward the sound, Reg discovered the priestess Ramvik tapping at the stony exterior of Gravel with an assortment of small picks and hammers. The creature was suspended from a series of chains above a low fire, and it appeared Ramvik was exploring its hide for sensitive points and weak spots. “Little b-b-buddy!” exclaimed Chum’lee upon recognizing the small, rocky appendage. Ramvik was incensed and demanded to know the reason for this interruption of her unholy work. After explaining the creature belonged to Chum’lee, the priestess relented and set the elemental free before calling her acolytes to retrieve a new victim. Minutes later, the minotaurs dragged in the elf, Patreus, who deduced he may be able to convince the adventurers to help him get free of the monsters. While incarcerated, Patreus was reunited with his adventuring companion, Riswan, the noble and talkative halfling prisoner of the minotaurs. Riswan told Patreus of the adventurers who had tried to buy his freedom and, remembering Janus’ story of his own band of companions, the alchemist figured this must be the same group. The elf pleaded for assistance and the party offered part of Markuli’s reward to the priestess in exchange for Patreus’ life. Ramvik accepted the money as an offering to her temple, but refused to part with any of the elf’s equipment until an additional fee was met. In exchange for the bulk of his gear, Patreus agreed to brew the minotaurs a few potions and, a day later, the party was on its way back to Red Horn territory. *** Grauki, chieftain of the Red Horns, welcomed the party back into his lair with a gift of the manticore hides his warriors had taken from the party during their last visit. Each hide had been crafted into a warm and luxurious cloak. “These cloaks are a symbol of your strength and victory over the manticores,” smiled the minotaur. “Try them on. You’ve earned them.” Rags, Shi, Roch, Janus and Reg donned the cloaks while Chum’lee and Cul’tharic watched with suspicion and Patreus felt left out. The wizard and the lizard were right to be cautious. “Death to the rakshasa!” shouted Rags, Reg, Shi and Janus in unison. “Death to the medusa!” “What have you d-d-done to them?!” growled Chum’lee. “Just a little insurance,” replied Grauki. “Those cloaks were enchanted with a geas to keep you from betraying me. Your friends won’t come to any harm so long as they complete their task. Once Rashmarik and Saria are dead, the geas will wear off, you can collect your pay and you’ll be left with some fine cloaks to boot. Now, you might want to get going before your friends leave you behind.” Roch had managed to shake off the compulsion of the enchanted cloaks, but Rags, Janus, Shi and Reg were already on their way to battle Grauki’s enemies. Patreus and the others quickly, though grudgingly, followed. *** The party decided to hunt Rashmarik first as it was decided the rakshasa was the more dangerous of the two threats. Chum’lee, Roch, Rags and Shi pieced together enough knowledge of the evil outsider to come up with a battle plan and the group quickly made its way toward the sorceress’ lair. Passing a group of sparring minotaurs along the way, the party heard a call for their attention and were approached by a large female minotaur. “I am Gartuk, half-sister to Markuli and Grauki,” spoke the minotaur warrior-maiden. “I know of your plans to kill the rakshasa and her lover. I might be able to help you, but I need to know if you are loyal to the Red Horns. I know what Grauki did to the manticore hides and I think Rashmarik could end the spell with her magic. Will you side with the sorceress if she offers to end the spell?” “Death to the rakshasa!” snarled Rags. “I think what m-my friend is trying to say is we’ll get the j-j-job done,” replied Chum’lee. “I guess that will have to do,” said Gartuk. “I have a weapon that was found to the west, near the place where the angels dwell.” Gartuk produced a slim, golden crossbow bolt. “Before our clan broke apart, Ramvik told me it could hurt demons and maybe even destroy them. I’ve never tried to use it because it is too small for my hands, but I see the elf has a crossbow. Take it if you think it will free my people from Rashmarik’s greed.” The party examined the bolt and determined it was a powerful, holy weapon and, knowing only blessed weapons could harm the rakshasa, they gladly accepted Gartuk’s gift. *** The tunnel leading to Rashmarik’s lair was filled with the echoes of a high-pitched wail and Reg was told to scout the way ahead to determine the source. Near the end of the tunnel and around a corner, the rogue spotted four minotaurs pacing through a well-lit room. The screams seemed to emanate from a slightly open door in the south wall of the room. Reg snuck back to his companions, made his report and it was decided the party would ambush the minotaurs and quickly get Patreus in position to fire the holy bolt as soon as Rashmarik appeared. Chum’lee launched a fireball into the room expecting to hear the sound of screaming bull-men but the minotaurs were prepared. They’d spotted Reg and set up an ambush of their own hiding at the far corners of the room so the fireball only singed one of the warriors. Seconds later, the brutes were charging up the hall toward the party. Janus took a beating from the flails and horns of the monsters, but Cul’tharic and Reg backed the aasimar up helping him hold the choke point while Rags and Roch saw to Janus’ wounds. Soon, the minotaurs were defeated and the screaming from the south door fell silent as the rakshasa sorceress Rashmarik came out to investigate. The rakshasa’s feline eyes burned with glee as her backward-twisting claws manipulated the magical energy from within her evil form. The adventurers had let their guard down as soon as the last of the minotaurs fell and didn’t notice the sorceress as she flung her own ball of flame rocketing up the corridor to explode among them. “So glad you could come!” laughed Rashmarik. “I was just about to run out of toys!” The party reacted quickly and Patreus moved into position to fire the golden bolt. However, Reg was faster than the elf and blocked the alchemist’s aim as he foolishly charged into the room. Cul’tharic and Janus went in after the rogue as the evil sorceress prepared another spell. “Get out of the way, you idiot!” shouted Janus who’d taken a position across from Cul’tharic at the entrance to the chamber. If Patreus missed this shot, Janus and the lizardman were prepared to flank the rakshasa with weapons Rags had blessed with Sarenrae’s holy energy. Rashmarik grinned as she prepared to unleash a spell of awesome power onto the rogue but Reg ducked to the side at the last moment and Patreus took his shot. The golden bolt sped through the air leaving a trail of sparks as it seemed to home in on the rakshasa like an angry wasp, and Rashmarik reeled backward as the bolt found its mark and exploded into a shower of light. Suddenly, glowing cracks appeared across the body of the rakshasa as her body imploded into the wound left by the enchanted bolt, her final screams and curses drowned by a sphere of silence created by Rags. Though her loot went with her when Rashmarik was destroyed, the party was happy with their work and proceeded to search her lair. Through the door in the south wall, the party found a small room decorated with implements of torture and a small, bloody gnome curled up into a corner. “Just kill me!” screamed the gnome who appeared to have been severely worked over. “We’re not going to hurt you,” said Rags as he cured the gnome’s wounds. “We must kill the medusa. Do you know where she is?” “I haven’t heard her voice in at least a day,” answered the gnome. “She may be in her lair.” “Who are you?” asked Rags. “And what do you know about the rakshasa and this medusa?” “I am Torbor, a wizard of The Griffin’s Claw Adventuring Company,” replied the gnome. “I’m the last of my peers. The rakshasa and her medusa ally slowly killed my companions or turned them to stone after they captured us several months ago. I only know that they have allies among the minotaurs. I think they took my spellbook to the minotaur leader, but I don’t know why.” Suddenly, a scream was heard from the chamber where the party had slain Rashmarik. “Aaiieghkk!” choked Reg as a cluster of ebon cords wound their way through his legs and up his torso toward his head. “Ge’emowmamowf!” The rogue had set off a magical trap while investigating a door in the outer chamber and now he and Chum’lee were surrounded and entangled in a wide circle of flailing, groping tentacles. “If we g-get out of this, I’m g-g-going to...hak…kill…guh…you!’ stammered Chum’lee as the tentacles began to constrict around his throat. Janus and the others quickly sought for ways to free the pair. Ropes tossed into the swarm of tentacles were quickly grappled by the unthinking appendages. “Oh dear!” exclaimed Torbor as he and Rags exited the torture chamber to the sight of Cul’tharic, Janus, Roch and Shi struggling to free Chum’lee and Reg from the mass of tendrils. The gnome made a few spastic gestures then intoned a deep hum as he pointed into the swarm, but nothing happened. “I’m so sorry!” cried Torbor. “I’m not strong enough to break the enchantment!” Rags, Janus and Shi began to become irritated. Reg’s mistake was costing them valuable medusa-hunting time, but the rogue was the only member of the party who knew where to find Saria’s lair. Using their ropes one more time, the group managed to lasso the wizard and rogue and, working together, got the pair free before the tentacles could squeeze the life out of them. Moments later, the swarm receded back into the floor but it seemed Reg hadn’t had enough. “I want to check that door again. I think I can disarm the trap.” “We’ve wasted enough time here!” snarled Shi. “We have to kill Saria. If you set off that trap again, we’re leaving you.” Chum’lee, Cul’tharic, Patreus and Roch knew the party would benefit from some rest, but their ensorcelled companions wouldn’t be convinced to stay. Despite their success in grappling and binding Rags, Janus and Reg, poor, little Torbor couldn’t keep hold of Shi and the priest hurried away toward the south hoping to locate and destroy his quarry. Roch, Cul’tharic and Torbor chased the cleric who had gained quite a lead while Rags, Janus and Reg were being tied up and, to their dismay, found that Shi had already entered the Red Horn’s southern guard post near the medusa’s lair. Fearing the cleric may have tipped off the minotaurs to their impending attack on Saria, Roch and Torbor ran back to inform the others while Cul’tharic waited to see if Shi would return. *** Cul’tharic returned from the tunnels to report that Shi had not emerged from the gate to the minotaur guard post. During the wait for the lizardman, Chum’lee and Roch had loaned Torbor their spellbooks so he might be better prepared for the fight ahead. For saving his life, the gnome had vowed to aid the party and wanted to do everything he could to assist their mission and seek vengeance against the medusa for his fallen companions. After only half an hour, the bound members of the party were released and the adventurers hurried off to find Shi and kill Saria. *** Shi was nowhere to be found at the minotaur guard post. The minotaurs claimed he’d been eaten by manticores, but the party saw through their lies prompting a fight that left the brutes dead. “You’d think minotaurs would be better at b__l-sh____ng,” is what nobody said but should have because it was the perfect opportunity and would have been pretty funny. Missing their chance to loot some comedic gold, the party proceeded to Saria’s lair. *** “What do your ancestors have to say, Cul’tharic?” asked Rags when the party neared the eerily silent tunnels leading to the statuary. The lizardfolk performed the short ceremony of reading the bones of his tribesmen and shook his head. “Grampy Bone says we are in terrible danger,” rasped Cul’tharic. “It is likely we will all die here.” “Does your grandfather ever pull your tail?” asked Rags. Cul’tharic grinned. “No…but sometimes he is wrong.” The party split into two groups near the entrance to Saria’s statuary. Reg remembered his first time exploring the tunnels near the medusa’s home and shivered. At first, he believed the statues to be the work of some skilled minotaur artist, but now he knew the horrible truth and the thought of joining the petrified creatures that made up the monster’s gallery filled him with terror. Chum’lee, Patreus, and Rags readied themselves with blindfolds and spells of invisibility. The rotund wizard had memorized a spell granting him the tremorsense of an ooze and was able to lead his invisible companions forward into the gallery while Reg, Torbor, Janus and Roch moved up a side tunnel to a secondary entrance while Cul’tharic and Gravel remained at the intersection to provide backup and keep an eye out for anything that might approach from behind the party. As the wizard, cleric and alchemist entered the darkened gallery, rows of candles suddenly burst to light. The petrified remains of axe-wielding minotaurs and silently shrieking harpies stood transfixed throughout the room and the adventurers suddenly heard a hissing, seductive voice from the northwest corner of the room. “I know you’re here ssssomewhere, my darlingssss,” came the voice of Saria. “Why don’t you show yoursssself? We can have lotssss of fun.” “We just had some f-f-fun with your girl-f-f-friend,” replied Chum’lee. “She sends her r-reg-regards.” “Your fear betrays you,” answered Saria mistaking the wizard’s speech impediment for terror. “Rashmarik cannot be killed by mortal arms. I was going to grant you the immortal glory of joining my gallery, but I’ll see you writhe on the tips of my arrows for your lies.” “S-s-ssuit yourself, l-l-lady, but I’m pretty sure that crossb-b-bow bolt we shot her with wasn’t m-m-made by any mortal.” By now, Chum’lee had determined where Saria was standing and directed Rags and Patreus where to attack. “You bastards! I’ll kill you!” screamed the medusa as Rags quickly conjured a holy storm to burn the evil creature. The priest almost regretted his action when his invisibility wore off and he suddenly felt the sting of three, large arrows driving into his flesh. Following Chum’lee’s direction, Patreus heaved a vial of explosive fire toward Saria. The vial missed but some of the liquid splashed onto the medusa causing her to curse in anger. Chum’lee followed with a pair of scorching rays but those, too, failed to connect with their target. Saria countered once again with another deadly volley of arrows that sent Rags squealing back toward the entrance of the statuary while Reg, Roch and Janus stumbled, blindfolded or otherwise impaired, slowly across the chamber toward the fight. Rags felt along the wall of the chamber until he came to the archway and turned the corner. Stopping to remove his blindfold, the ratman priest glanced back to spot his allies, but his eyes fell on the form of the hideous, serpent-haired woman he’d been compelled to hunt. Though his mind told him to fight on and kill the vile beast, his body would not obey. Rags’ squee of doom was suddenly cut short as his flesh hardened to lifeless stone. Cul’tharic had rushed up the tunnel as soon as he heard the fighting break out. Now, he stood before the petrified remains of Rags, his friend and companion since the party had freed him from the inevitables of the Celestial Garrison. Looking out across the room, the reptilian warrior saw most of his compatriots stumbling and tripping across the floor toward Saria. Only Patreus was visibly close to the medusa and the alchemist was having a difficult time as Saria launched her poisoned arrows into his body. With no concern for himself, the lizardman charged forward driving the tines of his trident deep into the medusa’s belly. “On my ancestor’s bones, you will bleed for what you’ve done!” hissed Cul’tharic. Saria leapt back and fired a volley of arrows at the lizardman who stared defiant, bloody murder into her eyes as Janus, Reg and Roch continued to close in on their prey. Chum’lee put some distance between himself and the melee as Torbor cautiously entered from the east door and began to cast a spell. Fwadoom! Chum’lee, Janus, Patreus and Reg were suddenly caught at the center of a massive explosion of hell-spawned flame. “Get away from her, you sons of b_____s!” came the voice of a tall, powerfully built woman with backwards-turned claws and the head of a panther standing right in the spot where Torbor was only moments ago. “I guess somebody forgot rakshasa’s are shapeshifters. The Rashmarik you slew was an illusion, you fools!” Charred somewhat by the flames, Chum’lee coughed, “How? How did you kn-know we were coming?” “Perhaps I’ll tell you just before you die,” laughed Rashmarik. As Torbor, Rashmarik had spent the last several moments casting defensive spells and now she stood within a faintly shimmering globe of magical energy. Saria, using her enemies’ blindness to her advantage, withdrew from Cul’tharic and fled toward her lover. “Kill the rakshasa! Kill the medusa!” cried Janus as he and Cul’tharic rushed toward the monsters with Reg close behind. With Rags out of the fight and Shi still missing, Roch fell on the defensive, enlarging Cul’tharic and healing any of his allies who would stay still. Frustrated at missing his attacks and letting the medusa escape past him, Reg lowered his blindfold just enough to target Saria out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve got you n-,” were the only words the rogue managed to say before his tongue froze in place within his stony head. Saria fell back behind Rashmarik to drink a potion of healing while her lover held off Janus with a wicked kukri and her deadly claws and teeth. The aasimar warrior, heaviliy wounded by the earlier blast of flame, fell to the floor along with the tips of two of his fingers, which he lost to the rakshasa’s blade. Things had suddenly gotten very tense and Chum’lee fell back into the entryway of the gallery. Thinking Rashmarik may have concealed the holy, golden bolt within an illusion when her double was slain, Chum’lee ordered Gravel to make haste for the rakshasa’s lair. It was a long shot but, hopefully, the elemental would be able to find the bolt and return before it was too late. Meanwhile, Patreus, Cul’tharic and Roch were dealing with a whole new problem. Rashmarik’s globe of energy protected her and anyone within the sphere from the low-level magics of Roch and most of Chum’lee’s arsenal, but it didn’t stop her from casting more powerful spells. A field of black tentacles suddenly sprang from the floor of the room, grappling Roch and Cul’tharic and cutting off the wounded Patreus. Saria had made it safely through the east door and was moving quickly down the tunnel to flank Chum’lee. Cul’tharic shouted a warning to the wizard and then realized something about the battle. “Rashmarik does not fear the medusa’s eyes!” hissed the lizardman. “She fights without hesitation!” Chum’lee’s brain raced for a meaning to Cul’tharic’s words and, remembering rakshasa’s have no inherent protection from petrification, yelled back to the lizardman. “What is she wearing!?” In addition to her weapon and a rod tucked into a sheath on her belt, Cul’tharic noticed an amulet formed from a mummified eye hanging around Rashmarik’s neck. “It’s the amulet!” shouted the wizard. “It must protect her from Saria’s gaze!” Suddenly, Saria was there drilling arrows into Chum’lee as Cul’tharic threw his trident and shield to the floor and lunged for Rashmarik dragging the sorceress into the squirming mass of ebony tendrils. Patreus rushed for the grapplers trying to get his hands on the rakshasa’s bauble while Chum’lee continued to move away from the mad, rapidly firing medusa archer. Rashmarik suddenly surged to her feet despite Cul’tharic’s great size and strength. The lizardman knew it was thanks only to Roch’s and Rags’ magic that he could barely contain the sorceress and they were quickly running out of time to stop the monster. Falling with all of his weight into the constricting tentacles, Cul’tharic managed to once again pin Rashmarik long enough for Patreus to make a final grab for the necklace at her throat. “I got it!” yelled Patreus as he quickly dropped the amulet around his neck. Saria, who now stood above the bloody, unconscious form of Chum’lee turned toward the alchemist and fired three arrows into his back. Stumbling for a moment, Patreus heaved another explosive at the medusa. No longer blinded, the elf’s attack hit and covered Saria in flames. Enraged, the medusa fired another volley at Patreus nearly killing him on the spot. The elf, bloody and in great pain, threw a small, thin pouch at the medusa, which exploded with thick, adhesive goo upon striking its target. “Now, Cul’tharic. We’ve got to end this now.” Cul’tharic had continued to wrestle with the savagely powerful rakshasa while Patreus glued Saria to the floor and both he and Roch were nearly dead from the strangling grasp of the tentacles. Patreus was right. There wouldn’t be another chance. Reaching down into the swarm of tendrils wrapping the rakshasa’s shoulders and face, Cul’tharic pulled with all his remaining strength and hissed into the sorceress’ ear as he peeled her eyelids with his claws. “There is your true love. Look at how beautiful she is.” The reptilian warrior twisted Rashmarik’s face toward where Saria stood affixed to the floor and burning. The rakshasa spit curses upon the lizardman and his allies while trying to look away but then, hearing the screams of her beloved, shifted her gaze to the dying medusa and cried out one final time in terrible sadness before her vile, blackened heart became still as stone. Dragging himself free of the tentacles, Cul’tharic stumbled toward Saria and mercifully ended her life.
From newsarama's series "An Oral History of Captain Marvel." Alex Ross - “Positioning him at odds with Superman in battle in a final ‘Ragnarok’ for DC’s history seemed a powerful position for Captain Marvel and a poignant one. His being the force that Superman has to reckon with as the one person stronger than he is was a point I wanted to make in general about anyone: that there is always someone stronger, faster, better than you who you’ll be put up against, no matter who you are." This is just one artist's opinion for one story that didn't happen in continuity but, coming from Alex Ross, it's an indication that some big names in the industry feel Cap is at least an equal match for Kal. Ross also seems to imply a little further down that Cap could and probably would have beaten Supes in the Kingdom Come fight, but that wasn't his role in the story so it didn't happen that way. It's easy enough to say Superman wins because he's Superman and, in continuity, Superman always wins in the end, but I'm a Captain Marvel fan so regardless of powers, track record, popularity or anything else, The Big Red Cheese wins the day every time...unless he's fighting Aquaman, in which case the fight ends in a happy stalemate.
All of them. All of the character types. I only ever get to GM, and running every NPC in the universe isn't the same thing as actually getting to play as a PC. *Sigh*...someday I'll get to play an awakened deinonychus ninja/pirate and, shortly before my character sheet bursts into an explosion of stars and rainbows and tigers wearing jetpacks due to the sheer awesomeness of my character, I'll make them all pay.
If you don't see the price/power ratio problem then there's no point in continuing this particular exchange. Wow, LazarX. Smug much? I shouldn't jump to conclusions though. Maybe your post wasn't intended to come across as righteous. You bring up a legitimate point, and I do recognize there are things within the rules (whether for item creation or combat or whatever) that are broken/foggy/open-to-interpretation/etc. My players and I just don't stress out over those things. Rule zero is a rule too; it just isn't an iron-fisted rule. At my table, it's more of a kind of consultative democracy. In other words, you're right. We've got no reason to discuss this because you won't change my mind and I don't want to change yours. However, my reason for asking was that if one were of the mind to make the distinction, would you, and how much would you set the difference at? I didn't put all that across in my question, but I expected it to lead to that. My stance on the summon monster/nature's ally thing remains the same. In the case of these two spells, I've never seen any evidence at my table to indicate one is better than the other so I don't have a reason to alter the pricing of an item that uses one vice the other. That said, if I weren't me and I had a reason to believe one spell is better than the other, I would get some close consensus from my players as to how much better one spell is, perhaps based on a percentage, and adjust the price accordingly (i.e. If my players more or less agree that SNA1 is 10% better than SM1, then I could see the me I am not raising the price of the SNA1 item by 10%.) Does that help?
What about Summon Nature's Ally compared to Summon Monster? It seems like I hear a lot about one of the two being stronger than the other (Nature, I think). Would you charge more for those? If I were adding these things to my campaign, I would only price the items according to the rules presented and not based on any perception that one spell is better than another spell of the same level. The effectiveness of a spell is way too subjective for me to let all the arguments factor into item creation. I'd suddenly have players telling me a wand of spirit weapon should cost less than a wand of scorching ray because they think spirit weapon is less useful.
Also, I think Velcro Zipper's idea to make it a swift action to activate works nicely. You can still get off a full attack with the bow, but only activate one summoning arrow per round in that way. After thinking it over, I think a swift action might be too good. I'd probably go with the move action to activate the item and a standard action to fire it. The swift action to activate assumes the arrow would be fired as part of the full attack, which still seems too powerful in the hands of an optimized archer who could stil get a few damaging shots in along with one of the summoning arrows. Sure, there are comparable abilities available to characters but I'm not aware of any that would be so easy to pull off. With it being a swift action, a creature is basically getting the ability to quick cast a summon spell and still pop off multiple arrows for a few measly coins. There wouldn't be any reason I couldn't drop a party of high-level archers armed with swift action poké-arrows on my party, and I don't want that option any more than I want a party full of similarly armed PCs. Alternately, you could make it a standard action to activate and fire one arrow so it would be on par with a wand or similar item in terms of speed.
I think we're operating under the assumption the poké-arrows cannot be used as weapons. That way, there's no need to figure out or argue over the rules for summoning a creature into an occupied square. That said, you could probably still fire a celestial black bear arrow over the head of an enemy and have your own drop bear.
Given that you can already spam monsters by summoning creatures from lower level lists, I'd just let the user have the badger gatling. If it does turn into a problem, there are a few things you could do. 1. Raise the price - simple and effective. A player who wants to carpet bomb the battlefield with badgers has less money to spend on other stuff. 2. Make the items crossbow-delivered - Even with the crossbow related feats, it'll take a little while to get up to the same ROF as the bow. 3. Move or Swift Action to activate one arrow - A standard action is a little drastic and doesn't leave any time to fire the arrow in one round. The problem with making them limited to only one active arrow at a time is that it isn't logical. What if the PC divides his poké-arrows among the party or a bad guy brings his own to the battle? Who gets to use the arrows? To avoid the confusion, just let it be or limit their use another way. I'm all for making each arrow a separate creature rather than letting the shooter decide on firing. If the GM decides, for whatever reason, the players shouldn't have access to certain monsters, he can limit the available arrows (maybe a LG fletcher would never create an arrow he knew could be used to summon demons.)
I like this idea. I'm assuming the arrows would be fired at an open space and not into a target. I don't design magic items too often so my math might be wrong but here's an idea. Cost of 20 +1 arrows = 2000gp
Though the book says, a weapon needs an enhancement bonus to carry an additional effect, you could rule these as non-weapon wondrous items in arrow form. They wouldn't do damage if used as ordinary arrows (maybe the arrowheads are small packets of summoning components or tiny animal carvings?) so you could negate the 2000gp enhancement cost leaving you with a cost 350gp for 20 Summon Monster 1 arrows.
I'd make this two checks; check #1 for the perceptor to hear the caster and determine his general location and check #2 a Stealth v. Perception check between caster and perceptor. As you pointed out, a creature can't Stealth its intoning without Silent Spell or something similar so the caster doesn't get a Stealth check to hide his voice. The DC to hear a spoken conversation begins at 0. I'd almost go so far as to say the DC for hearing a strongly intoned spell being cast would be around a -2 to -5. The DC of any Perception check increases by +1 for every 10ft between the perceptor and the source. For now, I'll set the DC at -5 to hear a spell being cast so, unless the perceptor is beyond 10ft of the caster, the DC is a paltry -5 to figure out a caster is close and in what direction the sound is coming from. The second check pitting the Stealth of the caster vs. the senses of the perceptor would be handled normally, but don't forget that many spells originate at the position of the caster so things like lightning bolts and burning hands are going to give the caster's general position at time of casting away every time. I wouldn't penalize the Stealth check for the caster because the first check is going to determine if the perceptor can figure out where he's standing. By casting a spell, the caster has already conceded that he's likely going to give up his general position as soon as he opens his mouth. However, the perceptor still has to spot him (or smell him or whatever) in order to target the caster with an attack.
These are all scenarios I ran as single-session adventures with, what I think, are pretty neat "bad" guys. 1. A GM might have to tone this down depending on the comfort level of his group. A gray render "adopts" an orphaned child and then kills a gang of bullys who threaten the kid. The orphan, who turns out to be a real Michael Myers type, takes advantage of his new protector's zeal and orchestrates a series of murders and attacks that lead the party to investigate on behalf of the village. 2. This worked well with a low-level party: A pack of ravenous wolves descends on a small village in the middle of the worst blizzard in recent history with the party trapped within the village walls. The pack is led by a powerful alpha male (insert advanced wolf, dire wolf, awakened dire wolf, etc. depending on party ability,) but the real threat comes from the village chieftain who, for one reason or another, has taken a severe disliking to the party and tries to use his position to force the party out into the army of wolves outside the gate (when I ran this scenario, the chieftain hated the party because his tramp wife, who tried to bed one of the PCs, lied about being violated by the party so, technically, the wife was the BBEG.) 3. Inspired by The Relic: A mysterious foreigner attending a fundraiser at a natural history museum reconstitutes a petrified bulette, which proceeds to eat every living thing it can find. The foreigner turns out to be a primitive mystic who is angry that his homeland's treasures are being stolen and put on display in the museum. When he recognized what the museum mistakenly labeled as an ancient statue of a terrible god-monster, he plotted to avenge his culture by setting the thing free from its millenia-long petrification. The fun thing about this scenario is that the party members were all guests at the fundraiser and didn't have immediate access to their gear since they were expected to wear respectable clothes and carry no weapons. Some of the party members scooped up museum displays to use as weapons and discovered a few of them were enchanted.
Make Clackers out of them. Craft a d30 bola for entangling your cat. Put them in a sock and swing them during the next prison riot. Attach them to an antennae headband and pretend to be a martian. Fire them out of your blunderbuss. Build a d30-in-a-cup.
If you're up for a little conversion work, you can surprise your party by going old school with the Maedar. There's a 3.5 version of the Maedar in Dragon #355. A delver might be unexpected as well. Chasing after some ancient Macguffin, the medusa could have worked out a deal with the delver to excavate the city in exchange for feeding it her petrified victims. Delvers eat all sorts of stone and this one may have developed a fondness or addiction for petrified creatures. New rules for Delvers are in Misfit Monsters Redeemed. Delvers aren't immune to petrification, but the medusa may work through a proxy or conceal her face while talking to the creature. The fey race of Pech are another mining race the medusa may have enslaved or hired to work for her. Pech are immune to petrification and, at CR3, it wouldn't take too many of them to cause trouble for the party. You could toss in a Pech with a few character levels to act as their leader. The nice thing about the pech and delver is that they are generally neutral so PCs might be able to bargain with them. If you want to go with straight up evil, you've got the destrachan, which is immune to gaze attacks and has considerable intelligence and wisdom to go along with it's sonic abilities. The medusa may have discovered the creature's lair while exploring and struck a deal with it. Don't forget the destrachan can use its harmonics to reduce the medusa's petrified victims to gravel.
I rarely get to play a PC for more than four sessions when I get to play at all. I think it's starting affect my character creation habits. I'm finding it harder and harder to devote the time and effort needed to craft a fun backstory for any of my PCs, and I don't bother to optimize since I never get to see their abilities grow. At this point, I guess the only important thing to me when making a character is remembering where I left my eraser so I can re-use the character sheet when I'm done with it in six hours.
There is nothing in the description of Earth Glide that says it allows the creature to confer its abilities to objects or creatures in it's grasp so I'd say it isn't possible. A demon's teleport ability specifically states the creature can take 50lbs of equipment and an ethereal filcher's jaunt, because it simulates the Ethereal Jaunt spell, allows it to take equipment, but Earth Glide doesn't simulate a spell effect or state any specific ability to pass onto another creature or object. If you want to get really detailed I'd even go so far as to say any undigested materials inside a monster would also end up exempt from traveling through stone (i.e. a xorn with a bag in its mouth would have to spit the bag out in order to Earth Glide.) That's my interpretation of it anyway. I think, based on the teleport and jaunt examples given, it would be specifically stated if the earth elemental, etc. could carry people and gear through stone. The lava child (from Misfit Monsters Redeemed) is another good example. Lava children have an ability called Metal Immunity that allows them to completely ignore metal. A lava child carrying an oak club would have to drop its club if it wanted to walk through an iron door because it can't confer its immunity to the club.
The DVD extras for the animated series collection actually includes a live-action fan film for the D&D cartoon. It only features Hank and Sheila. I only watched it once, but I remember it being very heavy on exposition with Hank whining about how he felt bad for finally killing Venger and Sheila consoling him. Sheila looked kind of fat. The D&D cartoon itself is really good in my opinion. It was certainly a lot more complex than the other cartoons of its time and, aside from that ridiculous Cloud Bears episode, it was better written than a lot of what's on today.
There's nothing about it on the school's website, but you could always contact them direct-like. They didn't mention anything about making the play available on DVD the night I went, but somebody may have taken it on as a project.
I get that. I know there are plenty of folk tales about goblins just being mischevious elves too. I'm just saying you'd have to repackage the race as something players aren't used to seeing. Since 1974, players of D&D and, eventually, Pathfinder have been presented with an image and description of elves and goblins that has been pretty much consistent from edition to edition. You've definitely got the ammunition you need to make your case based on an analysis of folklore so, as I mentioned, it wouldn't be hard to come up with an origin, but to suddenly say hobgoblins are elves and elves are basically just brownies would be a vast departure from what's been established as part of the game. Now that I think of it, the Eberron campaign setting is a good example of this. Eberron made a lot of changes to how many creatures with a long history in the game were presented. Orcs became a neutral race of hunter-gatherers, drow became scorpion-worshiping jungle natives and halflings became dinosaur-wrangling savages. These things aren't as drastic as what you propose, but they're still enough that some people didn't like Eberron enough to use that campaign.
I see a problem with making hobgoblins a core race in terms of making that part of the standard rules. The culture would need to be redefined in order to explain why they live peacefully among the other core races. Goblinoids throughout the history of the game have been presented as enemies of the core races whereas dwarves, elves, halflings, etc. have always been presented as similar enough in disposition to live peacefully among each other. It wouldn't be impossible to come up with a new history for the race. I'm just pointing out it would have to be done. For me, it comes down to this: Pathfinder (or D&D,) would need a complete revision if we were to take every non-human species and make it fit within the standards of the folklore that inspired that creature. The first book of Greek myths I read as a kid told me Medusa was one of three snake-haired sisters called the gorgons. A couple years later, I read a D&D Endless Quest book that described gorgons as bronze-scaled bulls. Another book told me dopplegangers were basically just ghosts who showed up to portend the doom of their twin and then, years later, D&D made them an entire race of solid, shapeshifting humanoids. I won't even go into lycanthropes and vampires. I consider my monster manuals and bestiaries to be based on the assembled folklore of an entirely different world from our own, a world where gorgons and medusae are two separate races and dopplegangers are enigmatic bodysnatchers. I don't get the feeling you want to make these changes because you hate the way elves and dwarfs are portrayed and want to get back to tradition. It sounds like you just brought it up to discuss how the game might be different, so I'm looking at it in terms of how I think it would change the system. I think what you're proposing would work fine as a homebrew campaign if you took the time to sit down and work out all the changes and any new rules you'd need to define everything. I might even be willing to try an RPG that adheres strictly to a set, real-world folklore but it would't feel exactly like the game I've been playing for the last 20+ years.
I like to call my favorite type of player The Passenger because he just sits there while I drive this train on down the tracks. I'm also fond of The Masochist who lives for the abuse and his buddy The Chump who's too desperate to figure out the odds are always against him and keeps coming back for more. The Chump, of course, shouldn't be confused with The Ingénue or The New Shooter who are either too naïve or too new to the table to know the score, and then you've got your Schmeer who's got the sense to offer the DM bribes in exchange for treasure, XP or just plain not dying.
Not at all. I don't personally want any PC races that can change their size whether it's an elf, dwarf or spriggan. I DM more than I play and I don't usually run that sort of game. What I'm saying is that if a new edition of Pathfinder came out tomorrow and they decided to make elves and dwarfs size-changing fey with sight beyond sight, I wouldn't expect them to be among the core races because those are fairly powerful abilities. Even if they were stuck at 6 inches, that's still too powerful an ability to have because a tiny-sized creature is going to have all sorts of advantages over anything larger. Sure, your STR and encumbrance suck, but now you've got fantastic bonuses to hit, AC and Stealth along with whatever other racial traits the race gets. It's too powerful to be a standard PC. I'm not saying a campaign couldn't be run where diminutive elves and dwarfs run rampant over the land but, if the rules assumed tiny races were an option for a standard party, we'd probably have one. Six-inch elves and dwarfs would have to become monsters and another race more comparable to humans would probably take their place. Half-elves might not even be a PC race anymore depending on the elf's size and considering the logistics. That wouldn't stop anyone from asking their GM if it's okay to play a diminutive elf or dwarf but, given their size-related bonuses and the proposed divination ability along with any other racial or type traits, those races would have to become a bestiary race. My personal take on it is this. If I met with a new GM who invited me to play in a homebrew campaign where elves and dwarfs were six-inch-tall, shapechanging fey and could see the future and he allowed them as PCs, I'd decline to play. I like both races just the way they are. There are so many different names for brownies, sprites and pixies that if I want a six-inch monster with the abilities you prescribe, I'll just make one up and give it a name that hasn't been used. I hope I don't sound like I'm pooping all over your idea.
As tempted as I am now to start statting out creatures like Bibendum the Tire Golem and the alien Quisp, I think the simplest and most apparent answer to yellowdingo's question is that making elves and dwarves six-inches tall and giving them divination powers would make them monsters (in the bestiary sense,) likely change their type and eliminate them as core races. A couple other races would probably replace them as common PC races, hardly anyone would use dwarves or elves in the their campaigns anymore and life would go on for everyone who wasn't b_tch_ng about how elves and dwarves got screwed by the makeover. Regardless of history or culture, the current concepts are so entrenched into the gaming community I don't think such a drastic change would be welcomed by many people.
Historically, Keebler and Rice Krispies Elves are around six inches tall, but I'm pretty sure a race that small wouldn't be included among the core races of the game no matter how delicious their baked goods or integral their cereal is to a balanced breakfast. The Elf race would need to be replaced by something larger, maybe a Kool-Aid Man or a Chocula. Perhaps, a Noid.
Coincidentally, The Lone Ranger is actually the Green Hornet's granduncle and "Tonto," according to the old radio plays, means "wild one." Freaky huh? Does that mean both Kato and Tonto are part of a legacy of intentionally derogatorily named sidekicks? I seriously doubt it. I think, as some have pointed out, the names were picked because they sounded right. Of course, tonto also means fool or dumb in Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian.
It didn't take me quite as long to finish Part 2 of the last session's entry so let's get right back to the story. I've got a photo to go with the manticore fight from the last entry, but I won't be able to post it until I return from New Orleans. DAY 126 RED HORNS AND MANTICORE TALES Pt2 featuring: The World's Largest Adventuring Party "Rags" - Nezumi (cursed human) Cleric of Sarenrae
“So, what do we do?” inquired Rags to his companions. “Even if Grauki doesn’t believe there’s a dragon nearby, he must know Markuli is up to something.” Hrumi had escorted the party to their quarters, a series of open prison cells, and left them to their business. The cells were uncomfortable but quiet and, except for a brief interruption by a minotaur sent to retrieve the party’s manticore hides, the adventurers were given the privacy they needed to plan their next move. “I say w-w-we accept his job, whatev-ev-ever it is,” answered Chum’lee. “We do a j-job for the Broken Axe, we d-do a job for the Red Horns, then we g-g-get out of here.” “That sounds fair,” Roch agreed. “Both sides get something and we leave them on even ground.” “Except I don’t trust Markuli to leave Nardarik alone once he knows the manticores are gone,” piped Rags. “What do you think, Shi?” “Wasn’t Grauki’s throne awesome?!” Shi exclaimed. “And did you guys see that demon? I wonder if Grauki would let me pose for a portrait next to it? Oh, were we talking about something else? I wasn’t paying attention.” “I’m inclined to agree with Chum’lee,” Janus chimed. “But we should find out what he’s paying before we agree to anything.” “I’ll go along with whatever the party decides,” Reg added. “As long as it doesn’t involve me getting flattened by anymore manticores or tenderized and ‘seasoned’ by anymore minotaurs.” “Here, here,” agreed Janus. It was Hrumi who caught Janus after he reappeared through the warp gate that brought him into Red Horn territory and the aasimar could still feel the beating he’d received. “Cul’tharic,” called Rags. “What do your ancestors have to say about this?” The lizardfolk warrior had remained silent during the party’s meeting with Grauki and it was obvious something was bothering him. Now, Cul’tharic stooped close to the ground and dug into his pouch for the odd collection of bones, feathers and stones he wore close to his heart. Cul’tharic studied the mementos for a moment and then spoke. “My ancestors and I are in agreement,” announced the reptile. “We should not be involved here. There is something here we do not know. Something hidden. I do not trust these minotaurs. We should help the halfling in the Broken Axe jail. He is honest, and I think he is worthy of our aid.” “That is something I can get behind,” Rags replied. “Let’s hear Grauki’s offer tomorrow and, when we return to Markuli, we’ll see what we can do for Riswan.” *** The party found Grauki waiting for them upon his throne of skulls the next day. The boisterous laughs and surly snorts of a dozen minotaur warriors echoed throughout the room, but fell silent as the party approached the Red Horn Chief. “Good day to you,” greeted the Chieftain. “I trust your accommodations were sufficient. Shall we get down to business?” “We’re ready to hear your offer,” answered Rags. “Excellent,” smiled Grauki. “Let me first tell you the tragic history of the Golden Axe and how it, and we, came to be sundered. No doubt my brother has already given you his version of the story.” “The Golden Axe tribe had become incredibly wealthy during its flight through the dungeon. Twelve years ago, we conquered and slew our way here to the labyrinth, pillaging and robbing every settlement, creature and undead horde we encountered. We’d been here two years when Markuli assumed leadership of the tribe. He told me he was through with the bloodshed and the war. He had a plan…to buy the loyalty of the surrounding tribes and monsters with our valor-won gain. He would send envoys to the goblins and the gnolls to offer gems and the protection of our warriors in exchange for their service. Scouts had reported the Celestial Garrison to the west was in the middle of some kind of civil war and the god-wrought machines might be willing to negotiate a deal. With the proper application of wealth and a few military parades, he would have made slaves of them all. There was no honor in it! I had to stop him!” “As much as it pains me to admit, Markuli’s plan inspired my treachery. My loyal warriors and I used our own wealth to purchase the assistance of powerful allies within the region and we successfully won our territory and provoked my brother into a final battle to determine the leadership of the tribe. It wouldn’t have been enough to simply challenge him for rule. I needed to prove I could lead and my actions had the attention of the entire tribe.” “Markuli and I clashed for days. Several times I had the upper hand and eventually I maimed my brother. Thinking the battle over, I foolishly gloated and roared in triumph! I still don’t know how he managed to swing the Golden Axe with his remaining arm, let alone get to his feet, but I suddenly found myself hammered by a series of thunderous blows that buckled my knees and sent pain racing through my arms like chariots of lightning as I frantically attempted to defend myself. It was glorious! My brother’s rage could not be contained and I knew I had only one chance to save myself. I did the unthinkable. With my remaining strength, I shattered the Golden Axe, the symbol of our people. The explosion caused by the destruction of our most powerful artifact knocked up both from our senses. Somehow, my brother recovered first but he was no longer enraged. Looking down at the shattered remains of the Golden Axe, he proclaimed an end to our struggle and to our tribe and left me to drag myself back to my people.” “We’ve slowly forged a peace between our tribes over the past ten years, but there is no re-forging the Golden Axe. The tribe will never again be whole, but Markuli hasn’t given up on his dream. Only his faith in my violence has kept him from sending his envoys to bargain with the tribes of the dungeon, and that is why I let him continue to believe I want his crown.” “His plan to solicit loyalty from our enemies is not the way of our people. Power taken with wealth will never be as honest as a spear through the heart. It’s important your foe know he is defeated, that he is your slave after you slaughter his family and raze his home. Our father knew that. Markuli has forgotten, but I’m no longer the young, foolish calf I was all those years ago. For now, Markuli’s distrust for me is my greatest weapon against him. As long as he considers me a threat to his power, he doesn’t dare risk reducing his forces and that means he can’t send out his envoys. I can match him bull for bull, and he knows it. Unfortunately, I can’t match him coin for coin and, if I can’t pay my warriors, I stand to lose them. That’s where you come in.” “During my revolt, I allied myself with a powerful rakshasa sorceress and her consort, a deadly medusa warrior. Their aid was instrumental to my rise to power but it came with a cost, a cost my tribe is still paying, and I think it’s time to close the account. I want you to kill them for me and recover my tribe’s wealth. In exchange for this, I’m willing to offer you half of my own personal treasure and ten percent of the tribe’s. How about it?” “We have some questions,” answered Rags. “I’m sure you do, but I asked first,” replied Grauki. “Give me your answer and I will tell you everything I can about your targets.” The room was silent but for the whispered conference of the adventurers. Cul’tharic remained quiet as he had the day before, but the rest of the party quickly determined their course of action and nodded in agreement. “We’ll do it,” announced Rags. “We’ll kill these creatures and recover your treasure.” Grauki grinned an evil grin and then addressed his assembled warriors. “Thank you all for attending but it looks like I won’t be requiring your services today.” The minotaurs grunted in compliance and filed out of the room as Grauki readdressed the party. “Now, I believe you had some questions.” Slightly unnerved by the implications of Grauki’s words to his warriors, the adventurers regained their composure and asked their questions. “The rakshasa, Rashmarik, and her lover Saria live at the edges of Red Horn territory,” spoke the minotaur chief. “Your friend there had nearly stumbled into Saria’s lair when my warriors captured him the other day,” he continued as he glanced at Reg. “Lucky for us all, they found him before she did.” “It’s important Rashmarik and Saria do not know you are working for me. As part of our tribute to the creatures, I must provide warriors to guard their lairs. The warriors who just left this chamber are my elite. They are the only ones I trust with knowledge of this mission, but that is also why I cannot send them with you. Rashmarik and Saria know I would never send my most loyal warriors to defend their homes and this plan will work best if they believe you are simply a band of wandering adventurers and not a team of assassins. Unfortunately for you, this also means any minotaurs you encounter guarding them won’t know you are working for me. I’d prefer you didn’t kill any of my people, but do what needs to be done to complete your objective.” “Markuli is no doubt expecting you to return with proof of your victory. I had some of my warriors return to the manticore lair while you rested to collect their meat and some trophies from your kill. I’ve decided to have the hides you brought fashioned into cloaks for you so collect the trophies from my warriors, go to Markuli and collect your pay. Then, return to me when you are ready. I trust you will not inform him of my plans.” Grauki then called for Hrumi who escorted the party out of the chamber and to the edge of Red Horn territory where they collected a grisly collection of manticore organs to present to the Broken Axe Chieftain. Because the Broken Axe minotaurs did not know Janus, it was decided he should wait within Red Horn territory to both keep on eye on the Red Horns and serve as impromptu cavalry if his companions took too long to return. From there, Vornmik, the bard of the Broken Axe Tribe escorted the adventurers to the throne room of Markuli. “Very good,” Markuli smiled. “I see you come bearing gifts, and I have your reward.” The minotaur waved his arm toward a row of small chests arranged near the foot of his throne. Each box lay open and a small pile of glittering gemstones rested within. “Th-th-thank you,” Chum’lee translated for Rags. “But the rat m-m-man and our lizard here would like to b-buy the freedom of your halfling p-p-prisoner with their share of the reward.” “Is that so?” asked the chieftain. “His crime is very serious. Darvil the Thief is an enemy of my people, and I cannot free his accomplice for such a small fee.” Roch, who also understood the words of the minotaur, added, “I will also give up my share of the reward for the halfling’s freedom.” Before long, most of the party’s reward was offered up to free Riswan with only Chum’lee and Shi retaining their shares. Markuli considered their offer and called for Vornmik to deliver the message to the halfling. Several minutes later, the bard returned without Riswan and whispered a message into the chieftain’s ear. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to take your money,” spoke Markuli. “The halfling doesn’t want to leave. He says he won’t budge until he’s proven innocent. He says his mother taught him justice can’t be bought or sold,” he continued with a laugh. “So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, tell me, what has my brother hired you to do and how much is he paying you?” The adventurers were silent only a moment before Chum’lee spoke on behalf of the party. “It’s t-t-true he’s hired us for a job, but we are sworn to sec-sec-secrecy,” replied Chum’lee. “I can say we int-t-tend no harm to your t-t-tribe.” “Grauki doesn’t do anything that isn’t intended to hurt my people,” Markuli snorted. Then, producing a handful of rubies from his pocket, the chieftain re-addressed the party. “Are you sure you can’t tell me?” “I’d l-l-like to tell you, but we don’t g-get paid if we tell,” answered the wizard. “If it’s money you want, you’ll find my pockets are much deeper than my brother’s,” Markuli spoke as he produced another pair of large rubies from a pouch at his side. “Tell me your price.” “I’ll tell you,” offered Chum’lee as Roch began to interrupt the conversation but was cut short. “But you must re-re-remove these curses from me first.” Markuli’s nostrils flared with anger. “Are you mocking me?! You already know we don’t have a cure for you or your rodent friend! Fine! Keep your secrets! I’ll find someone else who knows!” And then, the minotaur became suddenly calm. “I trust this doesn’t change our previous arrangement.” Chum’lee’s companions weren’t certain of the meaning behind Markuli’s words, but many had their suspicions. “N-n-no. We’re still g-g-g-good,” answered the wizard. Then, taking up their reward from the Broken Axe chieftain, the party took their leave and headed back toward the Red Horn tunnels.
I don't know if I can top any of those, especially "Captain Autism." That's really bad, but I'm not all that surprised it came from a Vampire LARP. Some of the worst PCs I recall are: * A fighter/barbarian Goku/Cloud hybrid who served as a transport vehicle for an enchanted, huge-sized fullblade. * The "God of Laziness" who was so lazy he couldn't be bothered to defend himself. * A homeless-themed character for a freeform Streetfighter-type RPG whose "martial arts" style seemed to primarily involve shouting at people to get off drugs. * A DMPC named "Nightstalker" who was "cursed" with immortality and a venereal disease that instantly killed any woman he slept with. and perhaps the worst of the worst... * A hobgoblin fighter named "Bandit of your mother's butt" who was basically played as an interspecies rapist.
I once played in an Eberron game where the DM had agreed to take on far too many players and then peppered the campaign with combats against large numbers of enemies. At one point, I think we had twelve people playing with one DM. At least one of the players clearly had no idea what he was doing and constantly needed to be counseled through his decisions or outright told what to do, three of the players (including the DM's girlfriend) were the focus characters who made the world go round, four more were mathtastic optimizers, power gamers or munchkins who devoured time like langoliers and I'm not entirely sure what the rest of us did because we rarely got to do anything. If I figured in the amount of time it took for me to drive to the game, I'd guess I spent 5 hours, 45 minutes real time, per session, to pass 10 seconds to two minutes in game. The focus characters seemed to have a feat or class feature that allowed them to forward the plot and advance time when we weren't in combat, but I could never find it in any of my splat books so I couldn't take advantage of it.
I don't collect many books anymore, but here are a couple suggestions. Heroes for Hire - the series is only two issues in, with the third due for release in a couple weeks so it'd be easy to catch up. So far, the writing has been pretty solid and the revolving cast of characters makes it a different and interesting take on the old anthology series' like Marvel Team-Up. Very cool if you prefer reading about the lesser known characters of the MU. So far, they've featured Moon Knight, Falcon, Black Widow, Elektra, Silver Sable, Ghost Rider and Satana with Misty Knight and Paladin serving as the anchors. Can't recommend this enough. Thunderbolts - T-bolts is probably the most consistently well-written team book in the Marvel catalog, and the latest incarnation of the team might be the best lineup they've ever had. Books to avoid: Any of the thirty titles starring Deadpool, or pretty much anything Deadpool is in.
So, I'm back in New Orleans for Deepwater Horizon Part 2. That's part of why the journal has taken so long to get posted. The other reason is because this session's entry has turned out to be really freaking long. I'm up to page 8, and I probably still have another four or five pages to go (sessions that are heavy on exposition and small on combat tend to have this effect.) Anyway, in the interest of entertaining my several fans, I've decided to post the first eight pages now and get the rest up later. Enjoy! DAYS 123-125 RED HORNS AND MANTICORE TALES Pt1 featuring: The World's Largest Adventuring Party "Rags" - Nezumi (cursed human) Cleric of Sarenrae
The adventurers traveled from Red Horn territory through a dark series of passageways. The Red Horn guards at the southern outpost had warned them against exploring any tunnels leading into the west of the region and, for now, they complied with the minotaurs' orders. The tunnels to the south were quiet but stank of rotting meat and cracked and splintered bones littered the floor. Small splashes of blood, both dried and fresh, left a gory trail toward what must be the manticore lair, and the party moved with caution toward the entrance to a small, cold room, which appeared to have been used recently as a campsite. A small, extinguished campfire rested in the center of the chamber and an oppressive feeling of despair hung about the room. Backing out of the room, Reg was suddenly impaled by several long, sharp spikes flung through a nearby narrow hall. In the shadows of the adventurers' torches, the rogue could just make out the terrible grin of a yellow-eyed beast with the face of a sadist and the body of a bat-winged lion. The manticore’s tail, a bristling dandelion of death, whipped forward releasing a second salvo of spiny skewers. The rogue was forced to retreat to the rear of the group as the lizardman, Cul'tharic, pressed forward to confront the beast. Rags, Roch and Chum'lee, meanwhile, cast spells from relative safety behind the warrior. The terrifying manticore, twisted and scarred from years trapped in the dungeon, clawed and bit at Cul'tharic whose resin shield and thick scales held strong against the creature's claws and teeth as the lizardman drove his trident into the beast's hide. Within moments, the manticore lay dead, felled by the combined might and magic of Cul'tharic and his companions. Reg, wounded but able, took up his position at the head of the group and led them to a long room where a 20-foot tall parapet-lined wall stood at the center of the chamber below a 40-foot ceiling. The chamber yawned dauntingly before the party, the smell of manticores pervading their nostrils. The creatures had marked their territory with the gnawed bones of their victims and, curious about the fortification at the center of the hall, Reg, scaled the wall to investigate the parapet. Pressing his back up against a nearby wall, the rogue easily scaled the structure and began to pull himself over the barrier when he noticed a pair of leering, evil faces staring directly into his soul. One of the monsters lunged at the rogue, swiping with its mighty paws, terrible breath escaping from between multiple rows of serrated teeth that barely missed Reg's head. The rogue, struck by the manticore's claws, slipped and fell to the floor below as his companions moved into the room to combat the beasts. Secure at the top of the wall, the manticores unleashed volley after volley of spikes at the adventurers. As the beasts shrieked their scream-like roars, Cul’tharic drew their fire while Roc and Chum’lee launched missiles of arcane energy and spheres of exploding flame from the narrow entrance of the chamber. Reg, who was terribly wounded from the claws of the manticores and his fall from the parapet, scrambled back into the safety of the hallway to heal himself while Rags conjured a storm of holy rain to burn the monsters’ flesh. As the first of the manticores fell under the barrage of spells, the remaining beast took flight and fled through a wide doorway in the north wall of the chamber. Cul’tharic and Roch quickly followed the fleeing manticore hoping to silence the creature before it could alert more of its kind to the party’s presence. The dwarf mystic launched three missiles of force into the beast, which collapsed thrashing its tail, but it was too late. A pair of bloodthirsty manticore’s suddenly emerged from the tunnels to the north while two more of the creatures appeared from a tunnel behind the party. The adventurers were surrounded. Pinned between two pair of the horrible monsters the group split up to focus on both fronts of the battle. Cul’tharic blocked off the north tunnel facing down one pair of the beasts while Chum’lee provided him with magical support and Rags, Shi and Roch turned their attention to the pair attacking from the south. Reg, who hadn’t fully recovered from his fall, fled into a side tunnel to hide. Rags and Roch blasted the two monsters to the south with spells while Shi, who was closest to the beasts, called upon his goddess to channel destructive energy into his morning star. The weapon smashed into one of the creatures wounding it, but the priest of death was quickly flanked and overwhelmed by the beasts, one of which grasped the cleric’s unconscious body in its claws and flew to the top of the parapet. Meanwhile, Cul’tharic, thanks to Chum’lee’s magic, was able to hold the tunnel to the north. The monsters attacks seemed to pass through the lizard warrior as Cul’tharic drove the tines of his trident deep into the monsters’ flesh. The larger of the two beasts, a ferocious monster with bits of rotted flesh dripping from its jaws and patches of thick, matted fur across its back, howled in anger as it bypassed the wizard’s illusion to deliver a bone-breaking blow to Cul’tharic who hissed in pain but stood his ground. Knowing the reptilian warrior wouldn’t be able to take many more attacks like that, Chum’lee began to frantically fire beams of searing heat at the beasts from over Cul’tharic’s shoulder. Rags and Roch managed to defeat one of the creatures to the south and move toward the high wall where the second beast laughed maniacally, showering the pair with spikes from its tail. Reg, finally gathering the courage to act, crept out from hiding and flung a dagger up at the beast. The blade bounced harmlessly off the parapet and fell to the ground as the monster continued to ignore the rogue’s presence. In the north tunnel, Cul’tharic managed to bring down the manticore pride leader with an attack that caught the monster’s throat and saw the creature choking in rage on its own blood. The lizard then turned its attacks to the second beast, which fell burning to a blast of flame from the portly, duck-footed wizard. Seeing the wizard and lizardman emerging from the north tunnel, the last of the manticores made a desperate bargain for its life. Grasping Shi’s body in its claws, the monster took flight and hovered high above the floor of the chamber. “Hrreeel!” screeched the manticore. “Let me leave! I will not drop your friend! Step away!” “Drop him, and we’ll let you leave,” blurted Roch seemingly without giving much thought to what he was saying. “Ur? Uhm, that sounds reasonable,” replied the manticore, which was slightly confused by the dwarf’s apparent lack of concern for his companion. However, before the creature could act, Rags attacked the airborne monster causing the creature to freak out and drop Shi. Reg, whose hiding place was near the manticore, quickly dove under the falling cleric just in time for Roch to knock the beast out of the air with barrage of missiles. Winded and bruised from the cleric’s impact, the rogue still managed to fling the unconscious Shi out of the way of the falling monster but suddenly found himself beneath 1,000lbs of bristly, stinking meat and fur. “Mmphr phfrr,” groaned the broken rogue from under the dead manticore. “Eff iii eem ff ee!” Despite their morbid surroundings, the party elected to camp in the manticore lair and wait to see if any more of the beasts arrived. In the meantime, Cul’tharic got to work skinning the monsters and Reg set off to scout the tunnels near the manticore lair, tunnels the minotaurs had warned the party against exploring. *** Janus’ eyes opened to a small, dimly lit room that smelled somewhat like a barn. The light in the room emanated from a magically glowing torch, but it was unlikely the elf meditating in front of the torch was responsible for the smell. “Where am I?” asked the aasimar. “How long have I been out?” “In a dungeon, near a minotaur camp, and about three days if I had to guess,” replied the elf. “You came through the warp gate and collapsed on the spot. Your vital signs were good so I did what I could to keep you comfortable and feed you. You're welcome and you owe me three days of rations.” The elf, Janus learned, was an alchemist named Patreus who’d become separated from his traveling companion, a halfling named Riswan, while exploring the dungeon. Trapped between a group of surly looking minotaurs and the warp gate, which deposited him in the small chamber, the elf decided to wait for an opportunity to slip past the brutish, bull-headed warriors. With Janus’ help, he figured he might have a shot at fighting his way out of the minotaur lair and the two devised an escape plan. The door out of the small room led to a narrow hallway ending at what appeared to be a concealed door. Beyond that, a trio of minotaurs armed with longspears and flails stood guard within a second small chamber with three exits. Janus and Patreus decided they would start their attack by surprising the minotaurs with a bomb from the alchemist’s satchel and then try to make their way toward an open portcullis in the south wall of the room. Creeping up to the concealed door, the pair was just about to launch their attack when they reconsidered their plan and decided to try diplomacy first. Janus opened the door, sword in hand, and greeted the minotaurs. “Throw down your weapons!” shouted the lead minotaur, a hulking brute armed with a massive pick. “You are trespassing in Red Horn territory and you will come peacefully or die where you stand!” “Where do you intend to take us?” asked Janus. “I won’t give up my weapons.” “You will disarm and we will take you to await judgement by our chieftain or you will die! This is your final warning!” shouted the minotaur. “Well, then I guess you’re gonna have to try to kill us because we aren’t going anywhere with you,” answered the aasimar as Patreus flung a bubbling vial of acid over his shoulder. The vial missed its intended target splashing a small amount of acid onto the hooves of the minotaurs who responded with rage. Janus was quickly skewered with longspears and forced to retreat toward the warp gate. Patreus quickly swallowed a frothy vial of liquid, which transformed his body into mist as the minotaurs pressed into the tunnel. “Assassins! You cannot escape us!” shouted the minotaur captain. “We will find you no matter where you go!” More terrified of the minotaurs than of the warp gate, Janus dove through the portal only to find himself re-emerge into the exact same room. Fortunately, the aasimar was able to retain his senses and had just enough time to dive through again as the first minotaur reached the portal. Patreus, believing he was safe from the minotaurs’ attacks suddenly felt a sharp pain as the lead minotaur’s pick tore through his misty form. The weapon was enchanted! Slowed down by his gaseous form, Patreus knew he could not outrun the minotaurs and the enchanted pick of the minotaur captain would kill him if he didn’t escape. His only chance was the warp gate so the elf floated past the minotaurs guarding the portal and through the yawning void. *** Reg moved silently through the westward tunnels north of the manticore lair. The minotaurs hadn’t said why they didn’t want the adventurers exploring the area, but their warnings didn’t seem important enough to Rags or Chum’lee to stop the rogue from going. Figuring the party could always claim ignorance of Reg’s actions if he were caught, Chum’lee practically goaded the rogue into exploring the tunnels alone even as Reg was told the group would not come looking for him if he didn’t return. Whether it was confidence or foolishness that spurred him forward, Reg decided to explore the tunnels anyway. Not far into the tunnels, Reg spotted the flickering light of candle flames coming from a large room to the north. The room appeared to be an artisan’s workshop filled with several finely made statues of minotaurs posing with greataxes. Two of the statues stood on either side of a door to the west, but Reg was too nervous to explore the room any further and turned back to the west. Heading back to the west and then south, the rogue came to three doors in the east wall, which were heavily damaged and slightly ajar. All three doors appeared to lead into the same wide room and Reg could hear the sound of minotaurs whispering within. Unable to make out the minotaurs’ words, Reg returned north and came to a closed door heading further west. As the rogue cracked the door to peek inside, he could hear the sound of something large and heavy moving through the room, which caused him to shudder and return east. By now, the three minotaurs from the wide room to the south were heading north and Reg could hear them approaching. Quickly quaffing a potion, Reg scaled the wall of the hallway and attempted to hide above the minotaurs. Unfortunately, the creatures’ enhanced sense of smell alerted the minotaurs to Reg’s presence and he was spotted by a two of the brutes. Reg leaped from the wall and tried to escape toward a row of old prison cells, but one of the minotaurs charged forward bowling him over. Surrounded by the three minotaurs, the rogue dropped his weapons to the ground hoping the creatures would be merciful. Then, as one of the warriors seemed to keep a steady watch toward the statuary to the north, the other two minotaurs held Reg’s mouth closed as they pummeled him into a coma. And speaking of comas… *** …Janus emerged from the warp gate into a wide, cold room, which seemed familiar. Exploring the chamber, the aasimar quickly surmised he was back where the party had started their adventure into the region. Janus used the opportunity to run back to the commune for supplies and information and then leapt back into another warp gate promptly falling into a coma for the second time. A day later, he awoke to the sound of stone being dragged across the floor. Chum’lee’s earth elemental familiar, Gravel or Little Guy or Geodude or whatever he’s called, slid across the room as Janus came to. The creature had appeared in the small, dark room several days ago when the party first entered the region and, separated from its master, decided to wait until the wizard came for it. Aside from the warp gate, there was no way out of the room so the elemental had nowhere else to go. Knowing he would have to leave the chamber and judging Chum’lee would like his familiar returned, Janus attempted to persuade the creature to leave through the portal. Certain his master would come, the elemental refused to budge and left Janus no choice but to pick the thing up and carry it through the portal. Emerging from the warp gate, Janus was disappointed to find the elemental had been sent to another location and even more disappointed to find three large, angry minotaurs waiting for him when he re-emerged into the room where he’d met Patreus. *** A little over two days had passed before Cul’tharic finished skinning the corpses of the seven manticores. The skins weren’t perfect, but they were good enough to serve as proof of the party’s victory, and the group returned north toward the Red Horn minotaur lair. Reg hadn’t returned from his scouting mission, and few among the group were willing to make enemies of the Red Horns or stir up trouble between the minotaur tribes by going after him. The adventurers reached the Red Horn guard post to find four of the warriors waiting for them. “Halt!” growled the minotaur watch captain. “I was ordered to detain you when you arrived. You will go no further into Red Horn territory until Hrumi arrives to claim you.” The minotaurs were serious, but not immediately threatening. About ten minutes later, the Red Horn security chief, Hrumi arrived to meet the party. “Chief Grauki demands your presence,” grunted the minotaur. “You will follow me.” The party was then escorted to a large chamber lit by a great fire. A gaunt, demonic creature with black scales and a single horn protruding from the back of its skull stood in the center of the room staring, unblinking at the adventurers with eyes that sparkled like cold rubies. Closer inspection revealed the creature was quite dead and mounted to a dais, its eyes replaced by precious gemstones. Behind the trophy demon, upon a throne of skulls and stretched hides sat a powerful looking minotaur in robes of crimson, a golden crown upon his brow and a sparkling scepter in his hand. “I am Grauki, Chieftan of the Red Horns and brother of Markuli,” announced the minotaur with a predatory glint in his eye. The chieftain spoke clear and perfect Common. “I see your hunt was successful, and lucky for you. After we caught your companion snooping around in the west tunnels, I decided I would have you killed if you did not return with at least seven hides. Oh yes, my guards also found this man. They thought he may be an assassin but I chose to spare his life. Do you know him? His life may depend on it.” At this, Reg and Janus were carried into the room by one of Grauki’s warriors and thrown to the ground at the party’s feet. Their bodies were covered in welts and bruises, their eyes swollen shut. Both stank of sweat and excrement and Rags quickly rushed to their aid declaring he knew them both. “See to your friends,” said Grauki. “And then tell me, how is my dear brother?” The party spoke for several minutes with Grauki hoping not to reveal too much about Markuli’s tribe when they let it slip that the Broken Axe chieftain may have heard something about a dragon’s hoard when Chum’lee thoughtlessly brought up the topic. “He hasn’t changed at all,” Grauki responded. “After all this time, he still thinks he can rule this dungeon with deceit, trading gold for servitude. There is no honor in it. You will rest here within my tribal halls and, when you are refreshed, we will speak more. I may have work for you.”
I saw a few people mention the team in the New Avengers thread so I figured what the hell. I read this book. Why not make it a thread? First off, I've got a problem with this series. Namely, Steve Rogers.
Steve's showboating leads to my next problem with the book. He's got a great team, and Brubaker is wasting their potential. The best example I can think of is during the first arc when Steve puts on Nova's helmet after being told it could very well kill him due to his human physiology and inexperience with the Worldmind. This would have been a perfect moment to give Valkyrie the spotlight. She was was perfectly capable of continuing the fight, Marvel is trying to push the character, she's easily the toughest member of the team physically and I'd think Steve would have the wisdom to realize how screwed the team would be if his head imploded. Instead, Steve throws on the helmet and turns into a Super Saiyan. Why do I keep buying this book if I'm sick of Steve Rogers? I'm hoping it will get better. I'm hoping this whole John Steele thing will lead to a story arc where Steve realizes he's overcompensating and that it's okay for him to lead from the rear of the column and let his team of highly trained and experienced heroes do the job they signed on for. Also, I'm a huge Moon Knight fan and I hear that, sometimes, he actually shows up and does something for one panel before Steve takes over and screws everything up by leaving his flank completely exposed so he can go fight hologram wizards.
Some interpretations of the film, lots of spoilers:
First off, I don't believe magic or fantasy had any real part in the movie. The movie was conceived by the director to be a prolonged, bad acid trip so anything that appears to be magical in nature is suspect. It's all equal parts superstition, madness and faith.
Barde (the crusader who wanders off alone and returns with red skin and covered in runes,) I believe, was simply mad. Believing he was in Hell and abandoned by God, broke him. We never see what happens after he leaves the group so we can only guess. My guess is he tossed down his sword because he figured it would be useless to him in Hell. He may have spotted the natives from a distance prompting him to mimic their appearance as a self-defense mechanism (Batesian mimcry,) but the runes (and his subsequent mocking of the crusader leader)indicate he may have reverted to his pre-Christian beliefs and was using the runes to protect himself. I don't think he could actually read One Eye's mind but, in his madness and despair, believed he could. Doom and death seemed like the only fate waiting for the crusaders so that's what he believed One Eye was thinking. The kid, Are, was an oracle in a symbolic sense, but not in a real sense. He wasn't any more psychic than Barde, but he knew One Eye better than anyone and probably had a much better sense of the man. I think all of his insights were mixed bits of history, superstition and bluffing to save his own skin. It's possible he'd heard One Eye was from across the ocean and that the elders believed he was some sort of monster so he put two and two together claiming One Eye's homeland was Hell. Because of the time period (about 1000AD,) it's entirely possible One Eye was a survivor from some destroyed village in Greenland, which would qualify as "across the ocean" if they were in Norway. The only things in the movie with any real weight of fantasy are One Eye's dreams and those, I think, are better explained as a tool for conveying his spiritual journey/acid trip. One Eye is sort of an avatar of Odin but not in a magical Messianic sense. In a lot of ways, I think One Eye represents the decline of the Norse culture. Early in the film, one of the tribal leaders says he's never been anyone's property longer than five years indicating he gets passed on from tribe to tribe the way history and religion get passed from generation to generation. Later, a group of Christians removes him from Scandinavia. Eventually, he dies quietly the way many cultures and religions seem to just vanish as time progresses. However, it's interesting to note the only two characters who choose to follow One Eye to the ocean are seen surrounded by an aura of light in their final scenes. The old man, Kare, who dies alone on the hill, turned his back on his leader to follow One Eye. Before he dies, he says he was going to Jerusalem to join his sons who died in the Crusades, but I never got the feeling he was doing it entirely out of faith in God. If the crusader leader (I think his name was Hagen) represents Christianity/progress and One Eye represents Norse Culture/tradition, then it would seem Kare's death at the halfway point to the ocean signifies a happy medium between the two. Kare, afterall, died content and seemed ready to meet his sons in Valhalla, Heaven or wherever they might be. Are, the kid, on the other hand, followed One Eye all the way to the ocean and even sees a vision of the warrior across the sea after he dies. Are, being the only member of the party to survive (and the only other character besides One Eye who was a pagan) seems to indicate the old ways might die but they are never forgotten so long as someone is left to remember. It's kind of cliché, but whatever. The auras seen around Kare and Are, I think, were simply a visual cue that a revelation had been made by both characters similar to how a person on a drug trip might claim to gain some spiritual insight from their journey. That's probably a lot more thought than the movie deserves and I'm probably wrong about most of it, but sometimes trying to figure these things out can make a mediocre film much more interesting. For the OP, if you haven't seen it yet, I'll reiterate. The film is slow, there is little action and you'll likely find it to be self-important, thought provoking or just incredibly dull depending on your taste in film. The same director made 2008's Bronson, which is an awesome film if you get the urge to check out some of his other work.
I don't get to play nearly as often as I DM, but I've played three NPC-class characters for a session or three I felt were pretty successful. The first was a commoner who served as the party's Patsy. Since the DM was focusing on a more dialog-driven, political game, my lack of class abilities, skills and combat viability didn't matter as much as my ability to roleplay. I was able to easliy mingle with the servants and common folk to gather information and many of the thugs left me alone when the party got into combat since I wasn't a threat and usually just ran away at the first sign of combat. A few years later I played a high-level expert for a one-shot game. The DM told us to make level 18 PCs so I decided to make the least powerful character by creating an elderly out-of-his-element merchant of adventuring gear and magic items who had somehow survived a few decades of marketplace treachery and multiple robberies. I contributed to the party by having piles of equipment they could use, and he was fun to play. My most recent NPC-class character was a human commoner using the young creature template from the bestiary. I only got to play him for one session, but my plan was to turn him the party vet and scout. I spent most of his starting funds on dogs he could train with Animal Handling. He had some potential.
I was lukewarm to this movie. There is plenty to like about the production, but the story tends to plod along at the pace of a dying man. That may have been a conscience decision by the director given the script, which is oppressively dark and somber. If you decide to watch it, I recommend also viewing Werner Herzog's Aguirre: The Wrath of God (1972.) Valhalla Rising doesn't measure up to Aguirre, but the stories are similar enough to draw comparison. BIG Spoiler with Questions Spoiler and possible answers:
My guess is that Are (the kid) and the other Norsemen only claimed One Eye was from Hell because of his ferocity, fighting ability and personality. It's very possible, nobody knew exactly what tribe he belonged to before he became a slave so they just said Hell because they didn't know where else he could have come from. I also don't think they meant the Christian Hell but the Norse Hel since it seemed they were pagans. Of course, it's entirely possible they meant the village of Hell in Lånke, Stjørdal, Norway ^_^
One Eye's decision to head west, I believe, had more to do with his prophetic dreams and a desire to meet his fate. He was simply heading toward the location where he would die. I think One Eye's similarities to Odin are fairly obvious so it makes sense he would go to meet death without fear knowing he was bound for Valhalla. The title of Chapter 5, Hell, I think, comes from the Crusaders' prespective that One Eye had led them to the pit. Most of the chapter titles reflect Christian perspectives despite One Eye's obvious connection to Norse religion.
I lived in downtown Seattle (Belltown) for a little over three years and never ran out of things to do. I don't know Bellevue as well as Seattle, but here are some links you may find useful. The Experience Music Project and Sci-Fi Museum are very close to the Space Needle so check that out if you're into science fiction or music. The exhibits are very cool. If you're a film geek, check out the Grand Illusion Cinema. They play indy, cult and classic films. I saw Creature From the Black Lagoon in the original 3D format with the cardboard glasses here. It was a good time. The Fremont Troll "lives" under a bridge in Fremont if you're interested in community art, roadside attractions or giant trolls. Garage on Capitol Hill is a great place for billiards and bowling if you want to relax and have a drink. I recommend Mama's Mexican Kitchen in Belltown if you like Mexican food or Elvis, and Hot Mama's Pizza on Capitol Hill has great pizza. You can also visit the graves of Bruce and Brandon Lee if you want to pay your respects. There are dozens of good places to go for live bands but, if you're into rock nostalgia, The Crocodile in Belltown is back in business after some renovations. Nirvana, Mudhoney, Pearl Jam and R.E.M. all played here before they made it big. I hope these help. Oh yeah, bring a skateboard or longboard if you skate. Seattle's a good place for it.
I know a guy who proudly and frequently recounts the time his paladin of a law/death deity murdered a child for swearing in church. His justification is that his deity would deem his actions both lawful and right. According to his story, the DM had no problem with this. He hasn't mentioned if he was rewarded XP for killing the kid. In the years I've been gaming, I've luckily had more run-ins with people who abstain from playing pallys specifically because they understand the significance of the code and know they won't have fun sticking to it. I've seen a lot more NPC paladins than PC since these players also don't want to be burdened with the chore of explaining why they constantly surround themselves with miscreants who will never reform.
I created a world like this once but never got to use it. Creatures in the campaign world didn't worship gods but might use famous people, locations, etc. as a focus for an ideal. As an example, a cleric with Strength and War domains might decide lions exemplify those ideals so he'd work a bunch of lion stuff into his magic. Alternately, a paladin might draw spritual strength from his queen if he views the woman as the perfect example of lawful good behavior. I didn't go into the business of why this worked. It just did and it worked out fine. There was only one plane and places like the underworld, hell and heaven were just places to which you could travel. If I wanted water elementals, they just came out of a river or a lake. Demons and devils came from a Dante's Inferno-type cave deep underground and angels were from a city in the clouds or high in the mountains. Magic did what it said it did in the rulebook in the simplest way possible. Summon Monster teleported monsters from random locations across the world and teleportation just meant a creature popped up somewhere it wasn't a moment earlier. Spells like Shadow Walk and Rope Trick didn't require or create other planes of existence. They just used pre-existiing spaces of which most people weren't aware or couldn't access. It'd be like if you suddenly found a key to a tunnel from the space under your bed to Disneyland or discovered the interior of your refrigerator was really the size of a walk-in closet. If I came across a creature, rule or game effect that absolutely needed another plane or a deity to work, I either altered it or left it out. There was no parralel world to this one but, just for fun, I made the world basically flat. A person could conceivably fall off into space if they traveled too far or dug too deep but, at the time in the campaign, nobody was aware of anyone ever reaching the edge of the world.
Okay, so I got a little behind on the journal. I'm a busy magical beast and I contracted some sort of demonic ailment my unicorn powers couldn't cure. Anyway, I'm better now and I've got a really long entry for the journal along with a new photo. The party takes their first steps into Region F and encounters a new tribe in this week's adventure... DAYS 118-122 THE BROKEN AXE featuring: The World's Largest Adventuring Party "Rags" - Nezumi (cursed human) Cleric of Sarenrae
The adventurers had returned with their prize, the silver key, and informed both the goblins and the residents of the prisoner commune of the dragon lurking to the east. The now-hairless rat priest, Rags, hoped the two communities and the monster might come to an understanding and learn to live in peace, but others believed the cleric was clearly deluded. Chum’lee, the party’s newest member, was the most vocal of Rags’ critics and seemed to make it his mission to stutter out the naivety of the priest’s beliefs at every turn, a habit that threatened to eventually set the two at odds. For now, the pair, along with their companions had information to gather and business to attend to with their allies among the goblins, the Celestial Garrison and the Four Waters commune. The goblin wizard Fargallan offered the party his typical lukewarm reception when they approached his new home within the goblin empire. The mage hadn’t forgotten their treatment of his pet spider or trespass within his laboratory but, being a natural businessgoblin, saw no profit in allowing their actions to completely spoil their relationship. Since moving to the empire, the adventurers had provided him with several difficult to procure components and spellbooks collected from deceased party members. Now, the adventurers came to Fargallan to inform him of the dragon Nardarik and to negotiate a deal whereby they might procure enchanted items from the wizard. Fargallan, was still forbidden by the goblin king to make public use of his magic, but there was nothing stopping him from using his skills in private and so the goblin mage considered the adventurers’ offers and told them he would devote a portion of his incredibly busy schedule to meeting their needs. Back at Four Waters, the party took some time to rest and meet with a potential new recruit. The rogue Reg had been in the dungeon for only a week when the members of his scavenging team were killed by a group of shadows that had gotten into the commune. Since then, the man had spent most of him time hiding from his responsibilities and filling a chair at Famous Macready’s pub. Nearly out of credits with the community store and sick of being scared, the rogue jumped at the opportunity to join one of the independent adventuring groups he’d heard so much about so a halfling rogue and frequent customer of the prostitute Molly Stuart introduced him to Rags and his companions after Talita Draghinazzo’s team turned him down. With a new trapspring..er..uh..finder to fill the party’s void, the adventurers headed north to the Celestial Garrison. Sanjid, the hound archon cleric of the garrison, consulted with the ghost priest Iridinhael about the curses bestowed upon Chum’lee and Rags and came to the same conclusion. Only divine action could remove the key-inflicted curses both suffered and neither of them had the power to call upon such favors. Stuck with their afflictions, the group had no choice but to move on to Region F. A huge iron door stood before the party, the graven image of a griffin’s head revealing a keyhole within the creature’s open beak. The last time the party was here, they quickly learned to leave the door alone after the griffin emitted a head-splitting shriek that nearly killed everyone close to the door. Through the lantern archon, Coleman, they’d learned how to access to the region beyond and Janus cautiously inserted and twisted the key within the griffin’s mouth. The silence of the dungeon was all the party needed to know they’d selected the correct key and, relieved, they entered into a large, uncomfortably cold chamber. Three doors awaited the party within the large chamber. One in the south wall of the room only led into what appeared to be a dust-filled but otherwise empty room. The two doors in the north, each unlocked but bearing a small keyhole, appeared to lead into the labyrinth of Region F. With nowhere else to turn, the party entered the first of the two doors. Janus led and, as he entered the portal, Reg suddenly halted and called for his companions to stop. Janus was gone and did not respond when called. The image of a hallway beyond the door rippled like a disturbed pond and went black. The party had found its first warp gate. The celestials had warned the party of the warp gates of Region F. The gates were built to confuse prisoners and bent local space to transport creatures to random points throughout the region. Special keys were required to pass safely through the portals but all were lost during the earthquake that broke the dungeon. There was no telling where Janus had gone, but the party refused to turn back. One by one they stepped through the portal unsure of what to expect on the other side. *** The lizardfolk warrior Cul’tharic’s ears rang as he stepped from the portal into a completely dark room. He was deafened and quickly searched for a source of light when his scaly hand caught upon something short and hairy, which wriggled at his touch. The lizardman quickly reached for his trident but was relieved to see the dwarf Roch suddenly appear as the mystic magically lit a brooch upon his cloak. Otherwise, the pair was alone aside from the corpse of an elf lying at their feet. Roch, it seemed, was also deafened by the portal and motioned to Cul’tharic to search the corpse. There were no wounds on the body and the elf didn’t appear to have starved to death. Aside from the portal, there was no apparent exit from the room and neither of the adventurers could find any hidden doors. Their only choice seemed to be to brave the portal once more and hope to find their friends. *** Reg appeared in a small dark room dazed and unable to act until he recovered. Luckily, it didn’t seem any dangerous creatures waited for him on the other side of the portal and the rogue safely came to his senses. Unable to see, the man searched the walls of the room for an exit until he found what appeared to be a ring hanging from a door. Reg, pulled the door open and immediately reconsidered his actions. A quartet of large, armored men with the heads of bulls rushed the door with axes as they caught sight of the rogue. Terrified and unwilling to test the portal another time, Reg threw down his sword as one of the minotaurs threatened him and pointed to the floor. The creatures immediately knocked Reg to the floor and stripped him of his gear before calling for more of their kind to transport the rogue to a small cell in a dank chamber of the dungeon. Unable to speak their language and too heavily outnumbered to put up any sort of resistance, Reg was locked into the cell to await what he could only assume was either a lifetime of slavery or scant hours until the minotaurs’ next meal. *** Somehow, Rags, Chum’lee and Shi wound up appearing, dazed but otherwise fine, next to each other in a well-lit intersection of hallways before a door similar to the portal that had sent them. A group of minotaurs guarding the intersection quickly drew their weapons and waited for orders from their captain, an old minotaur warrior with a dead eye no doubt wounded in some great battle. The warrior held his longspear at striking distance from the trio and growled. “I am Brumni called The Blind. You are trespassing within the territory of the Broken Axe! Explain yourselves!” Chum’lee, recognizing the minotaur spoke Giant, quickly explained how they’d arrived and why they had come to the region as Cul’tharic suddenly appeared from the portal behind the wizard. “Your arrival is not a complete surprise to us,” snorted the minotaur. “You will conduct yourselves peaceably and I will escort you to our chieftain.” *** Janus fell into a coma so there’s not much point in writing about him. *** Reg was searching his cell for something he might use to pick the lock and escape when he suddenly heard a small voice calling from the cell next to his. “Freeeesh fish!” came the voice of a halfling who popped up from under some blankets in the corner of the cell. “That’s what they say, right? This is my first time in jail. So what are you in for? I think they think I’m a burglar, but I’m not sure why. I’ve never burgled anything. Oh yeah, I’m Riswan. Nice to meet you.” Reg stared incredulously at the heavily scarred, yet talkative, halfling before explaining his situation. “How long have you been here?” asked the rogue. “Do any of them speak our language?” “I think I’ve been here a couple months, but I could be wrong. I’ve kind of lost track of the time. I used to keep track of time by counting my meals, but then they stopped feeding me,” replied Riswan. “There’s one who’s come to interrogate me a few times who understands me. A female I think. She’s nice, nothing at all like the other one who comes by to torture me. Some kind of priestess I think. She used to beat me with a chain and put hooks through my toes, but lately she’s been squeezing me into a rabbit cage and eating in front of me.” Reg eventually learned that Riswan was being held under suspicion of working with a man the minotaurs called Darvil the Thief. Up to now, the halfling had refused to claim knowledge of the man because, as he put it, to do so would be a lie and his parents raised him better than that. Unable to escape, his one hope was that this Darvil the Thief fellow would be captured and kind enough to reveal the truth to the minotaurs. *** Brumni the Blind led Rags, Chum’lee, Shi and Cul’tharic into the throne room of Markuli, chieftain of the Broken Axe Tribe warning them to be on their best behavior. “Mind your manners,” growled the minotaur. “The Chief won’t suffer fools.” Markuli sat upon his throne behind four massive minotaur warriors in golden breastplates, each wielding a large axe. The chieftain looked to be as old as Brumni with deep scars across his neck, chest and shoulders and a missing arm but none of this seemed to diminish the minotaur’s presence. “I had word from our priestess we might expect company,” spoke the old chief. “But she couldn’t say if I should let you speak your piece or have you strangled with your own tongues so I’m going to let you decide.” Chum’lee, being the only adventurer present who could understand Markuli’s words, translated for his companions and replied to the chief telling the minotaur of their quest to escape the dungeon and of the communities of prisoners and goblins to the south. Markuli considered the wizard’s words and seemed to take particular interest in the news of the dragon Nardarik. “A dragon? And the rat-thing there wants to be its friend?” chuckled Markuli. “I’ll have my advisor show your friends around while you tell me more about this dragon.” And with that, a young female minotaur in studded leather armor decorated with the symbol of an axe broken into three pieces stepped forward to greet the party. “I am Vornmik, advisor to Chief Markuli and bard of the Broken Axe Tribe,” spoke the minotaur in remarkably clear Common. “Please follow me. Your friend will be safe.” *** Roch, after a close escape from an eight-headed cryohydra, had managed to get himself captured by a group of minotaurs who were cleaning a recently attacked guard post. The minotaurs carried the dwarf toward what appeared to be another warp gate and produced a small crystal key, fitting it into the portal’s keyhole. Suddenly, the void of the portal shifted to show what appeared to be a well-lit hall with minotaur guards waiting on the other side. The minotaurs, with Roch in tow, stepped safely through the portal and was about to deposit the dwarf in the prison alongside Reg when they came across Vornmik and the spellcaster’s companions who quickly informed the bard that Roch was an ally. Before long, the group was also reunited with Reg and introduced to the hapless halfling Riswan who remained in captivity despite Rags’ attempts to convince the minotaurs of his innocence. While Vornmik was willing to entertain the idea that the halfling was telling the truth, the minotaur priestess Ramvik, a devout follower of Zon Kuthon, contended that Riswan could possibly be too strong-willed for the priest’s magic to reliably work. “Thanks for trying,” spoke the halfling. “But, if you want to help, you’ll need to find Darvil, bring him back here and make him confess.” After introducing the adventurers to several of the tribe’s most influential minotaurs, Vornmik led the group to the room that would serve as their temporary quarters and informed them of the tribe’s history. Meanwhile, Chum’lee and the minotaur chief Markuli conspired to kill a dragon. Through Markuli and Vornmik, Chum’lee and his companions learned that the Broken Axe Tribe was once part of another tribe known as the Golden Axe. The Golden Axe came to this region of the dungeon a little over a decade ago and dominated or destroyed the creatures living in the labyrinth. They were set to press into the surrounding regions of the dungeon when Markuli’s brother Grauki led a revolt in an attempt to gain control of the tribe. Grauki disagreed with the elder Markuli’s decision to handle the expansion of the tribe’s borders through diplomacy citing that their father had won the labyrinth with blood. At last, the brothers fought a final duel to determine the rule of the tribe, which resulted in the maiming of Markuli and the destruction of the tribe’s symbol, a powerful enchanted greataxe. Despite his terrible wounds, Markuli defeated Grauki who was exiled along with his surviving warriors. Grauki and those loyal to him moved to the eastern tunnels of the region and formed a new tribe, the Red Horn, so named because of their ritual of painting their horns with the blood of their enemies. Despite the revolt, an uneasy peace had been made between the two brothers and their tribes but Markuli believed Grauki was only waiting for an opening to strike. To the minotaurs of both tribes, few things were as precious as gold and, hearing of the dragon’s hoard to the south, Markuli saw an opportunity to increase the wealth of his people. However, he couldn’t afford to send warriors to fight the dragon lest his borders be weakened. Furthermore, a pride of manticores, old enemies of the Golden Axe, still ruled the southeastern tunnels and caused trouble for both tribes. Part of the peace agreement called for both tribes to share the responsibility of protecting against the monsters and it was certain Grauki would notice if fewer Broken Axe warriors were standing watch or working in the rotation. For Markuli to gain the breathing room he needed to hunt Nardarik, the manticores would have to be wiped out. Chum’lee returned to his companions to tell them of Markuli’s offer of wealth in exchange for the extermination of the manticore pride but neglected to mention the minotaur chief’s ultimate goal of killing Nardarik and claiming the dragon’s hoard. Vornmik, for her part, added that killing the manticores would go a long way toward earning the tribe’s respect and increase the chance that the Broken Axe Tribe might trade with Four Waters. The only thing stopping the adventurers from completing the task was the Red Horn tribe whose territory they would have to cross in order to reach the manticore lair. Vornmik informed the party the Red Horn wouldn’t trust a group of strangers to wander through their territory and told them they would need to negotiate safe passage through the east tunnels. Three days later, the Red Horn Tribe agreed to meet with Vornmik and Markuli sent the bard, along with Rags as a party representative and a small offering of gold, to bargain with the Red Horn captain Hrumi. Hrumi stood and snorted in derision as the thin, hairless rat-thing stood before him. Vornmik had advised Rags to avoid any displays of weakness and the priest did his best to appear intimidating. “This is the great warrior who will slay the manticores?” teased Hrumi. “Are his companions fleas? If he intends to kill them with plague, this will take forever.” “It’s the manticores who will flee…” awkwardly countered the cleric. “…before the, uh, might of our-“ “Mind your tongue, Hrumi,” interrupted Vornmik. “You know what they say about cornered rats. This one and his friends slew the barghests of the west and laid their corpses on our doorstep. I assure you, there is no medicine for the kind of death he and his companions will bring to the manticores.” “We’ll see,” snorted Hrumi.
I'm usually in the minority around here when it comes to prepainted plastics. But I liked them. I liked the ease of use. I grab, I go. I'm right there with you. I have to travel to DM a game and I provide all the minis, mats and other assorted table aids for my players. I don't have the space or patience to carefully pack 20lbs of painstakingly painted metal bits every other week so the DDM line is great because I don't have to worry about the paint chipping or the arms breaking off. They also have a great range of monsters that most metal dealers can't afford to produce in large numbers and tokens aren't anywhere near as visually satisfying as a 20-inch tall red dragon. Reaper does a few 3P (pre-painted plastic) minis and they're nice, but the range and numbers don't compare to what I got out of DDM. I just hope the collector sets they mentioned won't just consist of PC races and a slew of generic orcs, drow and dragons.
Conversely, Bubble Bobble could only be beaten if both players were alive at the end of the final stage. As long as you had at least one life remaining, you could get around this if you beat the game alone and then hit start on the player 2 controller right after you beat the giant wino at the end of the game.
I disagree with River City Ransom, but only on the grounds that there is so little room for improvement. However, it's fun to think of what somebody might do with the property. I'd go with an MMORPG-style game with players creating greaser punk characters and forming gangs (as opposed to guilds) or choosing to go it alone. Quests would take the form of turf wars or performing jobs for (or against) NPC civilians like courier missions through gang territory or extortion of shop owners to acquire money. Somebody mentioned Karnov awhile ago and that game, I think, would translate really well into an adventure game similar to Tomb Raider. Other games worthy of an update: Battletoads (various platforms) kicked so much a_s somebody needs to make another sequel. Dr. Chaos (NES) would make a great survival horror game in the vein of Lovecraft's From Beyond. A sequel to Strider, mixing elements from both the NES and arcade versions of the game, would make an awesome action/adventure game.
Here are a few titles I'd like to see updated, remade, sequeled, etc: Low G Man (NES) - The guy used a laser gun to stun skyscraper-sized robots and then leapt hundreds of feet into the air to impale them dragoon-style with a spear. It'd be like Shadow of the Colossus without all the climbing. Mr. Bones (Saturn) - A guitar-pickin' skeleton with a southern accent fights a vampire and his undead army with the help of leprechauns and the power of Ronnie Montrose's awesome soundtrack. An update or sequel could incorporate the Guitar Hero guitar controller to create a hybrid music/action game. Killing Time (Panasonic 3DO) - A prohibition-era FPS set in a haunted mansion with a story involving weird Egyptian immortality rituals, and ghosts. This game had great music, actual human actors giving pretty good performances right in the middle of your gun battles and zombie ducks. It's a shame Panasonic killed their own system with its ridiculous price because more people would have gotten a chance to play this and see how cool it was. Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura (PC) - Anybody who's played this game likely feels the same way. Berzerk (Atari 2600) - Granted there isn't much to this game given the limits of the technology at the time, but that just gives programmers more room to expand. I'd envision this as a Metal Gear-style stealth game with the player attempting to evade robot death machines or destroy them with clever traps in his quest to escape the labyrinthine prison of his nemesis, the Evil Otto.
So the party has completed one more region of the dungeon and set their sights on Region F. However, before we continue their story, it's time for another rundown of lessons learned and lives ruined by the actions of our favorite band of imprisoned upstarts. REGION C EPILOGUE The goblins of The Stoneshaper Empire quickly settled into the former lair of their defeated gnoll enemies in the days following the party’s adventures within Region C and, while the adventurers had played only a small role in the battle against the gnolls, Wilbert Brechurt, the man called Threepenny, made sure to let everyone know of their great victory over the gnoll jailers and the horrible rust monster (the tale of the dwarf’s disintegrating armor was especially popular among the goblins.) The atheist athach Nurganar whose avarice and cruelty had been tempered somewhat by the cheerful demeanor of the lantern archon Coleman, became a problem for the blink dogs, which had taken up residence in his section of the dungeon when he began to hunt the creatures for their meat. In the past, the athach had been content to feast on any gnolls that wandered too close to his lair but, with the hyena-men gone, there was little else living in the area to fill the creature’s belly. At least until the goblins arrived… Rumors of a dragon to the east of the goblin territory spread quickly after the party’s return from the region and was a cause of great concern to both the Goblin King Argliss and the governing council of Four Waters. Tales of a secret door leading to the creature’s lair that could only be opened by the righteous did little to assuage the public’s fears but the presence of the nearby Celestial Garrison helped to keep the worry from developing into a panic. The extra-planar members of the Celestial Garrison ultimately decided to limit their contact with their mortal neighbors, allowing the Redeemers (formerly the conscripted warriors known as The Redeemed) to serve as their proxies and mediators. The giant Arnuk and her sons did not eat the dwarf Pallas as some had suspected. In fact, the fighter had made his way safely back to the Celestial Garrison where the ghost priest Iridinhael agreed to help the blood hungry dwarf find some grace. Given the dwarf’s naturally long lifespan and his own virtual immortality, Iridinhael figured the pair should have enough time to transform Pallas from a greedy, self-serving knob who feigned respect for authority for personal gain into a slightly less greedy, more-or-less compassionate knob who did the right thing because it was the right thing to do and not merely out of a desire for profit or survival. Finally, after roughly 17 days, the adventuring party managed to recover the silver key, which would give them access to Region F. According to the Celestial Garrison, Region F was designed as a massive labyrinth filled with traps and magical portals called “warp gates.” The warp gates were meant to confuse demons trapped inside the region by randomly transporting the creatures to various points throughout the maze. The keys to safely operate the gates had been lost during the dungeon-wide breakout and few creatures were ever seen exiting the area since the last earthquake so the Garrison determined the region’s defenses were still intact and quite capable of holding off any invading enemies. Campaign Notes:
For this section of the dungeon, I’m going to cover a couple of new player benefits. For completing Region C, the players have gained access to a new pair of benefits. The first of these was provided in the text of the adventure itself, and a few of the players have already been using it for a few sessions. The Mark of the Righteous - The Mark of the Righteous is a temporary sigil, which can be placed around the right eye of any good aligned character by the lantern archon Coleman. In addition to alerting the character to a few specific hidden passages and serving as the key to those portals, the mark grants a +2 bonus to all saving throws. A marked creature, which performs an evil act loses all benefits of the sigil but, otherwise, the mark only loses its power after it fades away in roughly a month’s time. Does this benefit give good characters an unfair advantage over neutral and evil characters or encourage metagaming? Maybe, but I already pointed out that this whole dungeon favors good characters so I’m not changing it. Speaking of Coleman, in the book, his name is Zrino and he’s one of only a few lantern archons in the dungeon. One of the only things I’ve changed about the adventure is the inclusion of a single immortal lantern archon for each section of the dungeon. These custodian archons are basically an in-game tool for the players to ask me questions about the dungeon and the creatures they might encounter. Astute readers may have noticed each of the archon’s names begins with the same letter as their region but I’ve also given each one a name that references light in some way. The other benefit I’m adding to the game is the addition of a new player character race: From here on, one player will have the option to make their new character a hobgoblin member of the Stoneshaper Goblin tribe. With the gnolls out of the picture, Argliss’ loyal hobgoblins have few enemies for which to prepare. The Redeemers of the Celestial Garrison have attracted a small number of the warriors, but occasionally one may opt to join the adventuring party in hopes of finding new tests of their martial might. Region Review:
Region C might be the least cohesive and monster-light section of the dungeon the party has explored. The region’s narrative relies heavily on Region B because the gnoll tribe’s history and the key are tied directly into the goblin empire and the griffon-head door from that section. A DM could just re-purpose the key and remove any mention of the goblins from the gnoll tribe’s story if they wanted to run this section alone, but then they’re still left with three quarters of a dungeon that have nothing to do with either the key or the goblins. The giants and the dragon have their own separate story going on and there are a lot of monsters like the athach and the black pudding that are just sort of there to fill up space. And speaking of filling up space… Aside from the gnolls and a few other creatures, every other monster in this section is large or huge. However, most of the tunnels connecting the rooms are only five feet wide meaning these big monsters are pretty much confined to quarters unless they want to risk severe disadvantages while out hunting for food or going about their daily lives. A GM could simply make all the tunnels wider but, if you make everything bigger, you need more space on your gaming mat or whatever you’re using for your miniature battles. My solution was to give certain monsters like the giants and the athach the Tunnel Runner ability of the APG cave druid. Given the amount of time these creatures have spent in the dungeon, I felt it was perfectly logical that they’d develop the ability to move through the tunnels at their normal rate at the cost of one of their feats or with a slight adjustment to their XP value. Overall, I think Region C could serve as a good “Keep on the Borderlands” style series of mini adventures. For someone running WLD as one adventure, it’s a good place for players to stop to grind for XP before they move onto more involved regions of the dungeon. Obviously, a few more things for DMs to keep in mind with this region are the large rust monster, two mimics and the three or four oozes creeping around the dungeon. These things can wreck equipment or just steal it from your players so expect some frustration (there’s also a cockatrice, but those things are hardly worth mentioning since their petrification attack got nerfed with Pathfinder.)
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