Category: Dungeons & Dragons

Posts related to Dungeons and Dragons, including Pathfinder.

A Million Bazillion Orcs, and Other Nuisances

Pictured: An Easy-to-Moderate Encounter
Pictured: An Easy-to-Moderate Encounter

One issue I’ve encountered with the Storm King’s Thunder game is power inflation. It was already an issue during the Keep On the Borderlands phase, but it has reached new heights. We’ve got a party of six fifth-level characters, who are off-and-on supported by a (CR 7) stone giant NPC, plus any other NPCs who happen to be along for the ride (Lord Alden and Harold, in the current scenario, are both effectively CR 1).

This is a party that punches well above its weight. My best guess, based on running the “encounter difficulty by XP budget” math, is that they are roughly on-par with a 10th level “typical” party. The problem with that, however, is that CR 10+ creatures have abilities and defenses that lower-level characters, even these powerhouses, might not have the resources to overcome.

But then again, they might. D&D has never done “boss fights” well, and that’s still true of 5E. Put this party in a big empty room with a behir (CR 11), and my money would still be on the party unless the behir had access to lair or legendary actions. Multiclass Geek would probably get swallowed whole at least once, tho.

(In some ways, this is a feature, not a bug. If you put a giant boss at the bottom of a dungeon, where the PCs have had to fight their way to get to it and are down on resources, the fact that the boss is gimped by the party’s number advantage is a hidden way to make the fight winnable while still feeling epic.)

The current thought on encounter design for D&D is that in any given encounter you should have at least three monsters against a regular party, plus one monster for each party member beyond four. So against a party of six, at least five monsters. Against a party of nine(!), at least eight monsters.

This is rapidly becoming a very crowded 30′ x 50′ dungeon room. ¬.¬

The good news is, 5E is so much faster than the past three editions that there’s not that much overhead from having all these mass combats. “These two attack Rina. These four attack Togar. The ones attacking Rina need 10 or better, the ones attacking Togar need 16 or better.” (Dice clatter.) The DMG has a chart for mob attacks that boils even that down to “If they need a 15, every fourth monster hits,” but we have not (yet) had a fight so large that I felt it was worth looking it up.

Just taking the average damage from each mook attack, something I was dubious of at first, really makes this go even smoother. “You’re hit twice, take ten points of damage.” Easy peasy. The +/- 3 points of damage either way from rolling dice every time is not missed, although I still roll the damage individually for monster criticals, adding just that touch of spice roughly once or twice per game session.

The other issue, though, is 5E‘s strange fixation on not having monsters over CR 3 if at all possible. In the last session, Sheala took out a dozen enemies with a single fireball because they couldn’t survive half damage even if they made their saves. You can start stacking your monster ranks with reskinned knights, veterans, gladiators, and bandit captains to buff them up a bit, or create 3.5-style “mob” versions of lower level foes, and there are some third party supplements for the purpose. But the players might rightfully wonder why the orcs last week couldn’t withstand a fireball and the ones this week can, unless you introduce a story element of Bigger, Badder Orcs (say, a new strain bred by an evil wizard wearing shimmering rainbow robes).

There is an upside to having a party that can take a licking and keep on ticking– I can just put whatever I want and makes sense into the scenario and not be worried that they can’t handle it. But the real problem is things that should be dangerous becoming trivial. The “svartjaw” in the last session was a reskinned wyvern, a CR 6 brute, and they just melted it like butter before a blowtorch. Players love and want to win, but if they don’t feel like they had to at least work for it a little, it feels cheap, and will become boring fast.

5E‘s much-touted Bounded Accuracy is meant to address this very issue, but when you pile on a huge party like this, you flip the script. Suddenly the carefully-balanced math and action economy that is supposed to allow monsters to remain a threat across wider levels, is exactly what enables the party to just stomp all over everything.

There is also the Monty Haul problem, where the party’s ability to take on outsized challenges leads to them racking up high level treasure and XP, which in turn enables them to level up even faster in a geometric spiral. Dividing the encounter XP by six, seven, or nine as appropriate helps here, and I have complete control over how much wealth the party has access to simply by decided what’s out there, but it is still something I need to watch.

(As a side note, I do love that 5E is built on the assumption of class/race abilities only, decoupling magic items from character progression. I have always looked askance at “numerical progression” items from the first time I saw a +1 sword in my Holmes Boxed Set with chits instead of dice. My completely perfect world would mostly leave out treasure too– when did you ever see Frodo and Sam count gold pieces? But I fear that would force a little too much of my own preferred playstyle onto the rest of the group, and certainly “local duke offers 500 gp for bandit slaying” is a handy wrench in the narrative toolbox.)

None of these challenges are insurmountable, and compared to the “I hate my life!” slog of prepping higher-level 3.x/PF these are perfectly-acceptable problems to have. They’re just things I’m noticing about how the current game is going. Every campaign is different!

-The Gneech

A Grassy, Wind-Swept Sandbox Full of Giants, Part Seven

Harold of Acholt worries about his father, the Thane
Harold of Acholt worries about his father, the Thane

When you prep for the players to zig, they always zag. Continuing from part six…

We’re finally caught up to the most recent game session! With game world firmly built out and chock-a-block with adventure hooks and sidequests, a firm campaign direction (“Escort Xerlo to the Eye of the All-Father”), and brain-eating enthusiasm infinitely better than the floundering avoidance I started with, I was excited for the characters to head into Rohan Hestelland. It was a four-day hike from Tyvalich to Hierandal, the capital of the realm, which was summarized in a paragraph because it mostly consisted of staring at grass for hours on end.

The first order of business on arriving in Hierandal was looking up Piotr Zymorven to ask him about his father’s sword. They found him in a tavern, not quite plastered but definitely a bit sauced, where he’d basically been for the past two weeks. Piotr explained that passing fire giants had been killing and eating the wild horses (“wildermearh”) of Hestelland, a symbol of national pride, and so Piotr (who was a King’s Guard at the time) had rounded up a party to track the giants and make them pay for this insult.

They had followed the giants back south up into the mountains, to some kind of a citadel with orc servants. Deciding to lay a trap for the giants, Piotr and crew waited for the giants to leave on another foray and went in, taking out the orcs. They found a lift down into subterranean levels and went to explore these, only to be confronted with a drider and her swarm of “pets,” whatever they were.

Unfortunately, Piotr had a crippling phobia of spiders, stemming from a traumatic early encounter with a bebelith when serving as squire for his heroic father. So when confronted with the mindbending weirdness of a darkly beautiful elf maiden from the waist up and a horrific giant spider from the waist down, and a brood of what are presumably giant spider minions, he froze up, and then finally dropped his father’s sword and ran while the rest of the party was horribly slaughtered. He made it back to Hierandal, the only survivor of the expedition, where he was stripped of his rank for cowardice and had been moping in the tavern pretty much ever since.

The party’s reaction to this sad tale ran from understanding compassion on Togar’s part to contempt on Brother Drang’s and seeming complete indifference from Nikki. Togar immediately recalled Xerlo’s vision– of him fighting spiders in the dark– and declared that obviously he had to go down into that hole and retrieve the sword. Unfortunately, that meant hiking all the way back to Tyvalich (“We just came from there!”) and further past it, going in completely the wrong direction from their overall goal of escorting Xerlo north.

The party decided to take in the town and see what else was going on before they did anything else. At the Adventurers Guild they heard about demon hound stalking the streets of one town, a “night of the living dead”-style phenomenon that happens every nine years in another town (and was due to hit again before the end of the current summer), a party of tomb raiders heading off to Annunimas Mirathranc looking to recruit some muscle, and finally one of the lords of Hestelland organizing a hunt for some sort of demon bear called Svartjaw, who was also terrorizing the wildermearh herds as well as murdering homesteaders across the plains and leaving slaughtered households in its wake.

Now I fully expected the players to want to follow up on the Zymorven’s Sword quest before they did anything else– it involved backtracking, which is always the sort of thing players want to get over with quickly if it needs to be done, and on top of that Togar was visited in the middle of the night by Hathas the Heedless’s ghost, who’d put them on that particular road in the first place. Although severely weakened by being “killed” again by the fire giant, Hathas had mustered up enough energy to manifest and tell Togar he remembered more details of his quest and that there was more to it than just “find and recover the sword.” The sword wasn’t actually the quest per se, but was actually a landmark for the true goal of the quest, which was somehow to prevent someone or something from disturbing whatever slept under Mt. Thunderdelve even further.

And while that certainly did sound important, the players instead decided to join in the hunt for Svartjaw. Their reasoning was sound– Lord Alden, the Thane organizing the hunt, was champing at the bit to go and barely being held back by his son Harold, who was desperate to find some reinforcements for the hunt first. The players figured that if they didn’t join the hunting expedition now, they would come back from Tyvalich to news that Thane and son had been killed by the demon bear as well.

At his point I had to wing it a bit– while I had a general outline for the Hunt for Svartjaw (actually an adaptation of “The Last Hunt” from issue 92 of Dungeon magazine), I had not fully prepped that adventure. HantaMouse pointed out that “this is the problem with running a sandbox” (hence the running title of this blog series), and that’s certainly true, but honestly? I still prefer it. I wouldn’t have put the possibility of the Svartjaw hunt out there if I wasn’t willing to roll with it, and while I didn’t have complete prep for every possible outcome, I had enough to roll with.

This is one of the situations in which a Random Encounter Table is a DM’s second best friend. I knew that Svartjaw’s lair was in Chalsem Wood, which was roughly two days’ ride from Hierandal plus or minus tracking time, so I called for some Survival checks to see how quickly they picked up the trail. (Answer: Very. For some reason, the party can’t seem to roll below 20 on Survival checks. And that’s before Multiclass Geek gets her bonuses in a forest setting.) Even zooming in on Svartjaw like iron filings to a magnet, they still had to cross the Maethe, at one Random Encounter Check per four hours.

Near the end of the first day they came upon hill giants and their hobgoblin slaves, wandered quite far afield from their mountain home, dragging dead horses back as “Food for Guh!” This was obviously nonsense of the type up with which Lord Alden would not put, and so the party spurred on their horses and charged! Lord Alden got a few good licks in, Harold got his shield smashed by a hill giant club, and the party committed their usual badassery, Sheala taking out all the hobgoblins with a single fireball. Brother Drang and Lord Alden clanged their weapons together in a little mini-joust moment at the end of the fight– the knight’s equivalent to a high-five– and the party camped the night, stopping to bury the horses in a cairn of honor and burn the giants.

(The camping and horse-burial bit got a bit elided over at the table; I need to remember to address it for the next session.)

The next day the party reached the edge of Chalsem Wood, where they were confronted by Lord Feornod, Thane of Chalsem, and a party of knights. Lord Alden, it seemed, had a history of “poaching” on Lord Feornod’s lands, and Feornod was quite testy about it. Lord Alden, on the other hand, was quite determined to find and destroy Svartjaw before it killed anyone else, and the two were getting quite heated about it. Fortunately, Nikki intervened with soothing words and a gift to Lord Feornod of his last bottle of Zelno Wine from Appletop, so Feornod gave Alden “until dawn” to complete his specific hunt for Svartjaw.

The trail continued into the woods, where it rapidly got quite dark as the sun went down, the longer days of summer notwithstanding. The party decided that instead of tromping around in the darkness looking for the demon bear, they would instead make a camp, grill something delicious-smelling, and bring the bear to them. The plan worked beautifully (or horribly)– within an hour of setting up camp, they were beset by Svartjaw, a massive, spined, distorted grizzly the size of an elephant, with a slathering black-rimmed muzzle and eyes lit with a baleful green fire.

Here’s where the DM’s art of improvisation jumped in: I hadn’t written up stats for Svartjaw yet, ‘cos I wasn’t expecting to need them this session. But I did have wyvern stats handy on the random encounter table, and it was “close enough.” The fly speed got dropped and the stinger poison became a “Terrifying Roar” attack at the same save DC to avoid becoming frightened, and sim salabim I had a Svartjaw.

Well my dear readers, reskinned wyverns are still CR 6. A party of six 5th-level PCs and their CR 7 stone giant ally piledrived Svartjaw so fast that Lord Alden and his son didn’t even get a chance to draw their swords. Lord Alden was quite upset by this apparent anticlimax to what he had expected to be an epic last hunt that would be sung of by the bards and so on… until Rina pointed out that the tracks they’d been following had a very distinctive tread missing three toes on one foot– and that the monster they had killed did not.

Svartjaw, it seemed, was not the only one of his kind.

Furthermore, examination of the bear revealed that like the displacer beasts in the previous session, Svartjaw was also wearing a collar with a token on it, in this case an emblem of Nerull the Reaper, a dark god of death and murder from eastern lands. There was still hunting to be done before dawn. The session ended with Lord Alden giving the order to mount up to continue the hunt, darkness and the forest be damned.

And with that, the campaign summary is up to date! The next session will begin with the PCs attempting to find Svartjaw’s lair and confront the source of its evil. Will Lord Alden survive his last hunt? Time alone can tell.

-The Gneech

A Grassy, Wind-Swept Sandbox Full of Giants, Part Six

The Grand, Unified Map of Gneech's Campaign World

Then, the world changed. Continuing from part five…

I was going to finish the recaps with the discussion of last weekend’s session here, but I got to talking about the map (as one does) and realized the last recap would have to wait for one more post.

Once I realized that Storm King’s Thunder was a “build your own campaign” framework and not a straightforward adventure module and embraced it, that meant that I had to build out the world in order to make room for it all. I went through the module from front to back and placed every location important to the campaign somewhere, and then set myself to the task of filling in as much of the blank space around that as possible.

I discovered that the Silver Coast was waaaaay too small for what the campaign called for. The first version of the “completed” map had pretty much an entire continent’s worth of stuff shoved into a space not that much larger than the state of Virginia, because I was trying to make “1 mile hexes” my base unit of measure, which meant trying to keep Photoshop from choking on an image that should have been 200″ across.

Not a winning strategy. ¬.¬

I completed a Grand, Unified Campaign World map and accompanying gazetteer to give the players, but I knew before it was even done that it wasn’t right. The distances were skewed, some parts of the map were too big, but most were way too small, and so on. I wanted to have something in place by the end of AnthroCon so we could get on with gaming.

And it wasn’t wasted effort by any stretch– putting all the nations in place relative to each other and writing out how they’d been shaped by their common history really helped make the world “real” in my head. It also showed me where the biggest empty spots were, which in turn prompted me to create several nations and historical details that I really like and I’m sure I will use someday, regardless of whether or not it comes up in Storm King’s Thunder.

But it wasn’t done. Not really. So I went back and redid it from scratch, ooooone moooore tiiiime, but this time making damn sure everything was the right size, and in the right place.

Orbis Leonis Meets Middle-earth

To give myself the proper sense of scale, I started with a map of Middle-earth and put a properly-scaled hex grid over it, but even that was a fairly complex process. In order to get a hex grid that would scale up and down with the image and not turn into a blobular pixelley mess, I created it as a pattern fill in Photoshop. But to keep the the different-scale hexes precise relative to each other, that meant I had to draw that map at a scale where the pattern repeat on exactly the right percentages of the pattern size.

…Yes, I realize that’s hard to parse. I can’t come up with a clearer way of describing it. It’s a complex topic. -.- Suffice to say, creating the grid was a mathy fiddly process all by itself.

But once that was in place, I cut up the previous map into nation-sized chunks, appropriately scaled up, scaled down, or chopped into pieces to figure out where they had to go and what size they really needed to be to match previous campaign history as well as fit the vision I had for each nation. The Desert of Xadar, for instance, is supposed to take weeks to cross, while Hestelland should be an open and airy plain where horses run wild for days, and so forth.

It took several days and the project pretty much ate my brain the whole time, but now that it’s done I’m really happy with the result. This is a game world that I can see going pretty well forever, with enough detail and history to feel “lived in” while still having plenty of room for expansion as needed (I tried to leave myself lots of open spots). It’s not suitable for publication or any such thing– it’s got chunks of Greyhawk, chunks of Faerûn, bits of Lovecraft’s Dreamlands, and of course the Middle-earth nations of Rohan, Arnor, and Angmar with the serial numbers shaved off. But it is a cool place for me and six friends to visit every Saturday night.

It also taught me a lot about world-building in general, which is valuable for creating original works. I will probably use a very similar process to build out Calypsitania and the Fortress of Tears world for writing novels in next.

Next time, part seven, in which we finally catch up to the campaign!

-The Gneech

A Grassy, Wind-Swept Sandbox Full of Giants, Part Five

This Round's On Lem, from the Pathfinder Wiki
This Round’s on Lem, from the Pathfinder Wiki

He spews lightning. He crashes into everything he gets near and knocks trees over onto himself. And yet he’s still kinda adorable. Continuing from part four…

The first town on the road north was Tyvalich, a major trading town at the mouth of a pass up into the richest silver mountains in the world. Before they got there, however, the party was confronted by Felgolos, the Flying Misfortune, a young-ish adult bronze dragon who came swooping in, blasted a line of lightning between the party and the road, and proclaimed that he was the protector of the north and they would go no further. And then had to duck from the lightning-blasted tree that almost fell on his head.

Seeing Xerlo in their company had apparently made Felgolos think they were among the stone giants raiding and apparently destroying whole towns in Elsir Vale. After congratulating him on his terrific entrance, they explained that Xerlo had left those guys specifically because he didn’t think wanton murder and destruction was a great idea.

Felgolos polymorphed into an adorable little halfling swashbuckler and came over to their camp to talk it all out. He explained that he was generally regarded as a great hero and quite disappointed they didn’t know who he was. (“Seriously, you guys never heard of me? There’s a statue of me in Avileigne! Well, there was a statue of me in Avileigne, it’s under lava now. But still!”) However, when it was pointed out to him that there was a dragonborn paladin of Bahamut in the party, he conceded that they must be all right, told them to continue being awesome, transformed back into a dragon, and took off. He then crashed into a tree, said, “I’m okay!” and took off again.

With that auspicious start to their day, they continued to Tyvalich, where they did some shopping to replenish their potion supply and get some armor upgrades and the like. They also picked up a job from the Adventurers Guild to investigate and stop displacer beast attacks on the local farms. They also pointedly ignored a job collecting herbs for a gnome named Digglet Pindernipper, apparently figuring that they’d met enough whimsically eccentric NPCs that session.

Ha, ha, ha. Like that’d stop me! 😉

While they were in town, Togar followed up on a note someone had left him to go see Dawnbringer Kelsan, the local priest of Lathander. Kelsan said that one of his associates in Three Roads had seen Togar helping out the refugees and cheering troops in the garrison and whatnot and been impressed, and so Kelsan offered Togar associate membership in the Order of the Morning Star, a kind of freelance do-goodery club, with the goals, “Protect those who cannot protect themselves, aid those who have lost their way, and bring light to a world prone to falling into darkness.” Togar was all over this idea, gladly accepting a cloak pin with the Order’s emblem on it. (Other members of the party, upon noticing the pin later, commented that in his halfling form Felgolos had been wearing one just like it.)

The farmer they spoke to informed them that the displacer beasts had attacked their livestock and that they’d managed to wound one of them and drive them off. Then hill giants had come in the middle of the night and taken the slain livestock, which was kind of a weird wrinkle but not all that weird with all the generally giant-themed nonsense that had been going on for a while now.

The party tracked the displacer beasts up into the mountains until dark, at which point they set up camp for the night. During Nikki’s watch, some kind of completely atonal mournful bellowing echoed across the mountainside– which eventually resolved into a very deep-pitched feminine voice singing “Nobody Knows the Troubles I’ve Seen”… badly. Nikki roused a few other party members (the ones willing to get up) and they went to check it out.

Eventually they found the open-roofed ruins of an old signal tower, with a boulder blocking the door. Nikki climbed up to the hole in the top, being attacked by some circling bloodhawks for his trouble, and poked his head in, only to have a histrionic hill giant toss a chunk of masonry at him and bellow for him to go away. It turned out that this whimsically-eccentric NPC was Moog, a hill giant whose husband Hruk had been “stolen” by Chief Guh. (“Just because she’s huge, she thinks she can have anyone she wants! How can I compete with that?”) Between wallowing in self-pity and being kinda malicious and awful the way hill giants tend to be, she was a pretty wretched specimen. When asked for a description of Hruk so they’d know to send him back her way instead of kill him, Moog gave a very helpful “He’s tall and strong and has dark hair.”

They left her to her music. And also moved their camp over another half a mile.

In the morning they picked up the trail again. In a narrow valley they came upon three displacer beasts munching on the corpse of a fourth, and waded in. After a somewhat-frustrating fight in which several would-be hits were converted into misses by the beasts’ displacement ability, they finally worked out that Sheala’s magic missiles would disrupt the ability temporarily and enable them to overcome the monsters. Examining the bodies, they learned that the one that was dead when they got there was the one the farmers had wounded, and it had bled to death climbing up into the mountains and eventually just dropped where it was, prompting the others (which hadn’t eaten for a few days) to feast. They also discovered a collar with an iron tooth hanging from it– meaning that these were someone’s pet– and that they were following a trail back “home.” Sheala recalled with an Arcana check that iron teeth were associated with certain types of hags, acting as a kind of “radio” between the hag and whoever carried the tooth.

Deciding that the job wouldn’t be done until it was done thoroughly, they followed the trail further up into the mountains, finally coming to a small box canyon blocked off by an unreasonably-thick thorny bramble. Those who could went up and over, the elves slipped through as if it weren’t even there, and the paladin and storm cleric just powered through it. On the far side they found an old Calladganger homestead, with an animal pen full of dead livestock, and a hill giant and several displacer beasts lounging on the porch, only missing a banjo to complete the scene. Upon seeing the party, the giant called out, “Granny? Got comp’ny!”

Out from the house came the final whimsically-eccentric NPC of the night, Granny Withers. She appeared to be a little old Calladganger witch-woman, who cackled and said things like “Come in, come in, we’d love to have you for dinner!” The group dithered a bit– just straight up attacking a little old lady is awkward no matter how sure you are she’s evil– but when the gem of seeing they had lifted from Kolstaag Albrek’s desk revealed she was indeed an annis hag, they got over that and battle was joined.

Due to a quirk in Jamie’s build, Togar is actually able to turn fey the same way clerics normally turn undead, so he used that to force the hag back into her house so the party could concentrate on taking out the giant and displacer beasts first. Another giant came out of the house, yelling, “Don’t you hurt my Granny!” but was quickly dispatched. Finally, all the monsters were slain, their bodies piled onto the dead and gamey livestock, and all burned. The party rested the night in the dead hag’s house, which was creepy, but well-protected from mountain dangers.

They deduced that the hill giants, roving the mountains to find “Food for Guh!”, had come upon Granny Withers’ house and, in her weird annis-haggishly way, she had “adopted” them. However, between the three of them and her pet displacer beasts, they rapidly went through her stock of food and so they hatched up the plan of sending the displacer beasts to go kill farmers’ livestock, which the giants could then easily round up and bring back to the house. The displacer beasts just hadn’t made it back to the homestead yet because they were traveling slowly with a wounded pack member.

They headed back to town to collect their reward, stopping briefly to aid and comfort the same band of Calladganger hunters they had met before, who had been tracking a herd of aurochs through the mountains and gotten the snot pounded out of them by a bunch of hill giants. Still convinced that Nikki is some kind of nature spirit, they turned down his offer of “eagle” (actually bloodhawk) meat, because eagles were sacred to them and this was obviously some kind of spiritual test Nikki was putting them through to make sure they followed the old ways or some such. Nikki informed them that there was a nicely large, vacant Calladganger-style homestead in a box canyon just a ways up the mountain that they could safely camp and recuperate in, as long as they didn’t mind the smell of burning dead monster. Their leader promised they would ritually sanctify the house and that anyone who settled there would be named the People of the Squirrel in gratitude for this beneficence.

“Right. You do that.”

(For the record, the Calladganger leader is not whimsically eccentric, even if I do refer to him as “Kronk.” He’s a perfectly normal big dumb amiable lug.)

After a night of rest, it was time for the four day hike to Hierandal, which will come in part six.

-The Gneech

A Grassy, Wind-Swept Sandbox Full of Giants, Part Four

Drow Assassin by thatDMan
Drow Assassin by thatDMan

You knew a prophecy had to show up eventually. Continuing from part three…

Upon arriving back in town, the party headed for Lord-Protector Shendrel’s offices only to find an unruly mob of farmers complaining about Xerlo, the stone giant, who apparently defended an outlying farm from attack by throwing the farmer’s silo at a bunch of hill giants who were stealing all the livestock they could get ahold of while chanting “Food for Guh! Food for Guh!” They said they’d have a talk to him.

While they were in town, Inkblitz headed off to the Golden Compass Society for Exploration, Acquisition, and Monster Dispatch (a.k.a. the Adventurers Guild), while Sirfox headed for the Brotherhood of the Spider (a.k.a. the Thieves Guild). Jamie went off to the temple and the garrison to boost morale, aid the refugees of the volcano still clogging up the town, and presumably chop wood or something paladiney like that.

Investigation at the Adventurers Guild revealed that the only business for miles around seemed to be giants– hill giants around the mountains, cloud giants floating through the sky, frost giants raiding the coast, and fire giants everywhere tearing up stuff. Sirfie discovered that the Thieves Guild was in the back of the same building as the Adventurers Guild and was in fact run by the same gnome. He also was a bit surprised to discover a drow just sort of hanging out there.

He was pretty sure she was one of the drow who’d been meeting with Kolstaag Albrek and buggered off when a troll came bursting through the window, and he tried to to get her to own up to it, but she was cagey, more or less attempting to interrogate him right back. Three rounds and no decision later, the guild master came in and starting creeping on the drow (because blue-skinned elf chick in black leather, man). The guild master informed Nikki that with all the refugees in town trying to sell off their family’s heirlooms in order to afford a place to stay and food to eat, it was actually a pretty rough time to be a thief– none of the usual stuff was worth stealing.

Finally the group connected with Xerlo, who was sitting on a hill outside of town scribbling runes on a boulder. He told them he had been granted several visions. First was of Togar, “battling great spiders in the darkness.” Second was “a gargantuan red dragon, holding your group in the palm of a massive claw and smiling down upon you as a prized treasure.” Third was Hantamouse, “striding the lands as if you were yourself a giant, with the god Kord walking at your side.” (Hanta: “Woot!”) Finally, his last set of visions didn’t feature any of the heroes at all, just a series of images: “a black fortress surrounded by a moat of lava, great black tentacles in the crushing depths of the sea, and an ancient city lost in the sands of the desert.”

After wrangling with these visions a bit, Xerlo told them that their discussion had made up his mind: he was going to go north “to the land of the frost giants,” where there was supposedly a giant oracle called the Eye of the All-Father, to ask the oracle what these visions meant. When asked if he would be okay making a trip like that, he replied that it was hazardous in the extreme and he didn’t think it likely he would survive, but that he had to try. Being a bit concerned for their enormous, stoic-yet-strangely-vulnerable friend, they asked if he would like them to join him, to which he replied he would indeed like that very much.

They didn’t want to just bugger off to the frozen north leaving Three Roads vulnerable to hill giant attacks, however, so bringing Xerlo in tow they tracked down the hill giant raiding party and wiped it out, retrieving most of the livestock (but unfortunately unable to rescue the captured farmers, whom the giants had killed long before). Xerlo informed the party that “Guh” was in fact a great chieftain of the hill giants, who lived on the other side of the Silver Spires.

Before leaving town, they just barely remembered to look into the fate of Harthos Zymorven. In the town library they found accounts of his heroic career in Elsir Vale and Westdeep Forest, before becoming a mercenary for the dwarves of Starhold later in life. At the Adventurers Guild they found a reference to him signing over his guild membership to his son in Hierandal, to the north, twenty years ago, and apparently retiring. Since that was more-or-less the direction Xerlo wanted to go anyway, they chose that as a destination and headed off.

They were not expecting the dragon attack that comes in part five…

-The Gneech

PS: Quit creeping on that drow, guildmaster! Don’t you know that’s Obsidian’s mother?

A Grassy, Wind-Swept Sandbox Full of Giants, Part Three

Ghost paladin possessing a troll SMASH!

Kolstaag Albrek never knew what hit him. Continuing from part two…

It has always been true, but it is especially true of 5E that rolling low on initiative kills bosses dead. Between being blasted by the party’s wizard and cleric, sneak-attacked by the rogue, and having a ghost-possessed troll flip a desk on him then pick him up and go all TROLL SMASH, Kolstaag Albrek didn’t even get a spell off before the party had wrought their revenge. The pair of drow he was meeting with decided that was their cue to call it a day, and the wizard’s vicious gargoyle pets were quickly dispatched. The only other occupant of the house was a cranky old coot named Xzyyzx, the wizard’s housekeeper, whose opinion was that the wizard’s death meant it was his house now.

The party were not inclined to debate the legalities of property ownership in Three Roads, but instead reclaimed their gear (Jamie was quite jazzed to discover that Togar was the owner of a suit of adamantine plate), read Kolstaag’s mail, and headed back to town. Kolstaag, it turned out, was working for a drow by the name of Nezannar, which triggered deja vu in players from my previous Silver Coast game.

(Since that game is actually set 50 years in the future relative to the current one, the events of that game are history repeating itself, even though it got played first. Wibbly-wobbly campaigney-wampaigney.)

They also fetched Xerlo the stone giant out of the basement. He was quite surprised they were no longer in their cells, but on being informed that his former employer was dead, he adopted a very c’est la vie attitude on the subject. The party invited him to come along back to Three Roads with them, with the plan of setting him up as an 18′ tall Lurch-like guardian angel.

Lord-Protector Shendrel of Three Roads was a bit taken aback by having the party come back two days later from the opposite direction the fire giants had gone, with a troll and stone giant in tow. However, when shown the evidence of Kolstaag’s shenanigans, took them at their word. (Having a paladin in the party really does wonders for the group’s trustability.) She installed Xerlo in a barn outside of town, but took pains to point out that the job she’d hired them for– make sure the fire giants don’t come back– was still not done.

So they set off north, tracking the fire giants. Even two days cold, the trail was fairly easy to follow for most of the way. They ran into some Calladganger hunters from the Clan of the Eagle, who seemed to think that Nikki was a nature spirit, but eventually found a cave complex populated by orcs herding axe beaks.

Their attempt at scouting the caves was thwarted when Rina botched a Stealth check. The orcs thought she was just a random wood elf in the forest and were going to bully her for fun, but the rest of the party came swooping in and disabused them of that notion quickly. A general alarm was raised and it turned into a huge furball with orcs, maddened axe beaks, fire giants, and their fire elemental pets/familiars/adds/whatever they were.

In 30+ years of playing Dungeons & Dragons, I would have never guessed I would see opposed Animal Handling checks be a factor in combat. Achievement unlocked.

Hathas, his time “bonding” with the troll seeming to rub off on him, waded into the fray with more bloodlust than one generally expects from a paladin, even a fallen one. The fire elementals damaged the troll so badly that Hathas abandoned it and joined the fray in ghost form instead. While the troll retreated to a cave in the back where it could munch on dead orc and regenerate, Hathas attempted to terrorize a fire giant (not unlike the librarian in the prologue of Ghostbusters). The fire giant was not terrorized… but members of the party were. Nice jorb, Hathas.

The odd thing about ghosts in D&D is… they have hit points. They resist nonmagical damage, but in order to interact with the world they must manifest on the physical plane. Fire giants do an average of 28 points of damage with a single hit and their attack bonus alone equals a ghost’s AC. The fire giant made short work of Hathas, much to everyone’s surprise (including Hathas).

The fight was a tough one, but the party rose to the challenge. Brother Drang finally got to use the call lightning he’d been itching for, and Togar entered a new phase of his career by being the tankiest ever but not getting one-punched in the first round. When the dust settled, the party was battered and bruised but victorious. They retrieved the giants’ rod of the vonindid, a kind of dowsing rod for adamantine golem parts, and also discovered that these giants had found the vonindid’s entire left hand. They rather hastily buried this where it was, as it was way too big to haul anywhere, and headed back to town.

The troll survived.

It turned out there were developments with their new stone giant friend, which will be revealed in part four!

-The Gneech