Author: Bryan Fazekas

  • Keeping 1st Level Parties Alive

    June 2013

    This article was originally published in & Magazine, Issue 1 in May 2012. Written by Bryan Fazekas.


    A common lament among Dungeon Masters (DMs) is the difficulty of keeping low level parties alive. Some DMs seem to kill off party after party, which can dampen the fun for both the DM and the players. There are three questions to answer:

    1. Why keep the parties alive?
    2. Why is it so difficult to keep them alive?
    3. What can be done to reduce unnecessary PC mortality at low levels?

    This article addresses these questions from the DM’s point of view. There are things the player can do to avoid death, but that is ground not covered in this article.

    Please note that this article presents nothing new, nothing revolutionary. It is the collective wisdom of numerous DMs accumulated over the nearly 40 years since the original D&D was published. What this article does is present a fresh look at the possible options, collected in one place, so that DMs can pick out anything that appeals to them to try in their campaigns.

    Why Keep PCs Alive?

    Why worry about keeping the PCs alive? A lot of DMs don’t. They cheerfully kill off entire parties with a grin. Some players are fine with rolling up one or more new characters every game session. If everyone is satisfied, nothing is broken, so don’t fix it.

    But not all players are happy with that. Some perceive repeated character death as a mistake on their part, which it may well be. Others feel like they are getting no place. D&D is designed for character advancement and most players want their PCs to advance in level, which of course happens only if the PC isn’t killed off. Some players may feel like they are in competition with, or being treated unfairly by, the DM.

    Having character after character killed can be depressing or aggravating, producing a sense of futility. It’s easy to visualize countless players walking away from D&D after failing repeatedly to keep a PC alive. Driving players away, inadvertently or otherwise, is not in the DM’s best interest.

    This is a problem for the DM as well. If the players all walk away, the campaign folds. Even if they don’t, the DM never realizes the opportunity to DM at higher levels since the party keeps getting reset to level 1.

    So everyone in the campaign, DM and player alike, probably has a vested interest in keeping the PCs alive. Remember, D&D is a game, and the point of a game is to have fun.

    Why So Hard?

    What is so hard about keeping 1st level PCs alive? Let us count the ways!

    1. Low hit points.
    2. Poor armor class.
    3. Low damage potential that lengthens combat.
    4. Lack of player skill.
    5. Limited PC resources and abilities.
    6. Poor matching of the encounters to the party’s abilities.

    Having only a few hit points means that a single attack with an axe, long sword, or broad sword that may inflict as many as 8 hit points of damage is potentially lethal. That kills magic users and thieves outright, kills most clerics and more than half of the fighters. This point isn’t hard to understand.

    Poor armor class is common for low level PCs who do not have the funds to buy better armor and have not acquired magic items. Again, this point isn’t hard to understand.

    Unless the players are lucky or the DM uses a generous character generation method, the party probably does not have much in the way of damage bonuses from strength. As with armor, the party probably hasn’t acquired magic weapons or items to increase their damage potential. The longer it takes to kill a monster, the more likely it will kill one or more PCs. We’re batting 1,000 on the “not difficult to comprehend” score board.

    Point number 4? Yes, poor and/or suicidal choices by players certainly contributes to PC death. However, player actions aren’t addressed in this article – this is all about actions the DM can make to improve their campaign, so we’ll skip this point.

    Limited resources and abilities? The DM must keep in mind that the PCs have few magic items, few spells, and their class abilities will have a relatively low success rate. They will be unlikely to have simple things like silver daggers, making some minor monsters unkillable.

    The last point (#6) is the hardest one to get across to some DMs. They have players at the table so they don’t believe they’re making any mistakes. Yet even if they don’t lose players they receive grumbles about frequent PC death, lack of campaign progression, and other player irritations. The DM should look at the situation objectively to determine if they have a problem. Any idiot can kill PCs – the DM is invincible in their campaign and has an infinite number of monsters to throw at the PCs. Challenging the players requires DM ability. This may require the DM to play the role of coach as well as referee to help players (not PCs) increase in skill.

    Pull Those Punches!

    The easiest way to keep PCs alive is to go easy on them. Ignore die rolls indicating hits on PCs, reduce damage, play the monsters stupidly or cowardly. This keeps the PCs alive and enables the campaign to progress to higher and more exciting levels!

    But at what cost? Mostly long-term fun, assuming that the DM doesn’t stop pulling punches as the PCs progress in level. Eventually the players realize their PCs can’t die. The sense of risk dissipates, and the games become just die rolling, a video game without the screen. For many players and DMs – boring.

    Should the DM never pull punches? That debate is a fierce one with little middle ground. It is the author’s opinion that pulling punches on occasion is fine as long as the players do not realize it is happening. This is typically done when one or more players are having a real run of bad luck, or when the DM misjudges an encounter and makes it more difficult than expected.

    It should not be done to rescue the party from poor play. If the party wants to repeatedly perform foolish actions? Let them! It’s not the DM’s job to keep the PCs alive if they don’t want to be. On the other hand, if one player is acting suicidal in a way that threatens the remainder of the party, pulling punches on the party but not the offending player may be the right thing to do.

    PC Death is OK

    PC death or the real threat of it should happen with some regularity. Why? Without risk, without the chance of PC death the game is a bunch of dice rolling. With the risk of PC death comes the sense of fear, tension, and adventure that makes the game far more interesting.

    D&D is not a video game. The players should not save at a good point, dive in headfirst and get blown away, restart at the saved point. While it might be fun for a while, the lack of risk to the PCs causes the fun to pale and erode. Conversely, killing PCs off every session is eventually counterproductive. It shows the risk is real, but it prevents campaign progression and often puts the players off.

    The obvious choice is to provide the party with some encounters they can win through good play. Make them think and use the tools at hand to succeed. If they fail to play well, PCs may die. If they do play well, PCs may die anyway depending upon the whim of the dice. But the players will gain the sense of accomplishment that comes with good play.

    How To Not Kill Parties

    Following are tips that produce characters more likely to survive.

    Character Generation

    The AD&D Players Handbook (PH) recommends that PCs have at least two ability attributes of at least 15. Given that most attribute bonuses start when the value is 15, this makes sense. For most classes, having a high value for the prime attribute means the PC has a better chance of survival. Fighters have hit and damage bonuses, so they finish opponents quicker. Clerics get bonus spells, magic users have a better chance to know spells, and thieves gain bonuses on their class skills. Having a high constitution, dexterity, and charisma score directly affects PC survival. Constitution bonuses give extra hit points, while dexterity affects both armor class and to-hit with missile weapons. High charisma gives the PC better chances of interacting with NPCs in a desired fashion.

    What can the DM do? Choose a character generation system that produces good PCs. Give the PCs a better chance of survival by giving them the opportunity of generating a PC with better attributes. If a PC is generated that doesn’t have two 15’s, discard that character and start over.

    The in-game rationale for such superior specimens? Exactly that – the PCs are superior specimens, definitely above average in some ways, so the high attributes are appropriate.

    Hit Points

    The more hit points (hp) a PC has, the better his/her chances of survival. Stories circulate about having a fighter with 1 hp. Is there anything more ridiculous? Any hit from anything renders the PC unconscious or dead. Such a PC would never survive training much less an adventure.

    One solution is to award maximum hp at first level. This gives the PCs a better chance of survival, even the magic users who now start with 4 hp plus constitution bonus (if any). Some DMs go as far as awarding maximum hp at each level, and that certainly enhances PC survival.

    Others don’t award maximum hp but instead award hp that are at least half of the class’ HD. For d4 the award is always a 3 or 4, for d6 the award is 4 to 6, for d8 it’s 5 to 8, and for d10 it’s 6 to 10. This also gives the PCs a good chance of survival. Add in a constitution bonus and the odds of long term survival are greater yet.

    The in-game rationale? As with attributes, the PCs are superior specimens, and their training gives them better physical conditioning, stamina, and luck.

    Death Point

    The original idea was that PCs died when they reached 0 hit points. This rule ensures a high PC mortality rate since there is no wiggle room between life and death. When the PC hits 0 they’re dead, roll new character.

    AD&D introduced the idea of death occurring when hit points reach -10. A common ruling is that the PC is unconscious but stable when hit points are between 0 and -2, and at -3 or below the PC loses 1 hit point per round due to bleeding, shock, etc. Administering a Healing Potion or Cure spell, or simple binding of wounds by another character stops the hit point loss.

    This change greatly reduces PC death without making anything easier for them. It also produces role playing situations where the conscious party members must break off combat to tend fallen comrades, and in the post combat time must tend their hurt party members. A further optional rule is to allow the PC’s hit points to go as low as the negative of their constitution score, e.g., if the character’s Con is 18 their hit points can go as low as -18 before death occurs. Depending on typical party constitution scores this will even further reduce PC mortality.

    Starting Money

    An important part of starting a new character is provisioning that character. Dice are rolled for each class to determine starting cash. For fighters a low roll indicates a lack of means to purchase better armor and weapons. This is the same for clerics. For any class it means no funds to purchase protective things such as guard dogs.

    The obvious choice is to set a minimum threshold for starting money, and any roll below that value is automatically increased to the minimum or re-rolled. Alternately the DM may award maximum starting money for each class. Regardless of method used the PC starts with sufficient funds to provision themselves with the best that is available.

    NPCs and Guard Animals

    One way of avoiding death is for the PC to hire/buy a 0-level non-player character (NPC) or a guard animal such as a dog. The idea is that the hireling/animal will assist in combat and will absorb some or all of the damage that would otherwise be inflicted on the PC. Starting money will impact this option as the PC must have sufficient money to hire or purchase.

    In addition the DM must authorize the purchase. Some DMs feel, for whatever reasons, that the PCs need to work on their own and disallow the hire/purchase. Like the options described so far, this generally increases the PC death rate. Allowing the hire/purchase will reduce the re-rolling of PCs.

    Magic Items

    The use of magic items certainly changes the odds in favor of the wielder. Some DMs grant the PCs a chance of starting at first level with a minor magic item appropriate for their class. This will typically be a minor item – a weapon, armor, scroll, potion, or miscellaneous magic.

    Used wisely even a minor magic item may turn the tide of a battle, snatching victory from the jaws of death. Here the DM must choose wisely to avoid granting the PCs too much power. Items should be relatively minor or with limited charges, say a Wand of Magic Missiles with 5 charges that fires 3 missiles per charge expended. The wielder must conserve the wand for real need or be without the item when a truly dangerous encounter confronts them.

    Starting at Higher Level

    Many DMs do not start their campaign at 1st level. They may choose to start the PCs at 2nd level, which doubles their hit points and gives them additional abilities include spells. Some start the PCs at 3rd or 4th level, which grant even more initial hit points and class abilities.

    Editor’s Note: see & Magazine Issue 1 for Andrew Hamilton’s article “Starting at Level One ~ Why Bother?.

    This idea is the author’s least favorite of all the methods described in this document, barring the idea of going easy on the PC. There is a “magic” of playing that 1st level character with so little margin between life and death. But if the campaign has excessively high 1st level fatalities it may be in the best interests of the campaign to start at a higher level.

    Alternately, some campaigns start intentionally at even higher levels, even name level. The idea is to play a higher level party and may have nothing to do with avoiding death at 1st level.

    Raising the Dead

    Ok, all DM tactics failed and a PC is killed. What next? One answer is to roll up a new PC to replace them. Another is to make available Raise Dead or Resurrection.

    In many campaigns the availability of such higher level magics to low level PCs is nil. Some feel that it’s a “get out of jail free” card and gives the players too much.

    Restoring a PC to life doesn’t have to be easy, simple, or cheap. A common tactic is to require a high payment in either gold or magic items. Such may exhaust the party’s funds, forcing them back into a dungeon to score more loot. A better choice for the DM is to require service or a quest as part or all of the price of the Raise Dead or Resurrection. This makes it more expensive for the PCs, and more importantly, gives the DM a solid hook into the next adventure, possibly several adventures. It also gives the PCs an option for a mentor, friend, sage, etc., which can be exploited for many role-playing situations by a smart DM. Just as importantly, the players give their DM a solid rationale, a priceless thing. A smart DM will capitalize on such gifts from the players.

    Planning Appropriate Encounters

    While the preceding ideas are all valuable tools for the DM, nothing surpasses good judgment on the part of the DM. While some advocate total randomness on the part of the DM, the author believes that is laziness. It requires no thought or skill to roll the dice, and the DM is as likely to produce an encounter far too easy for the party as one too hard. The likelihood of generating encounters that are in a sweet spot of the range between just a bit too difficult or too easy is low.

    It is a mistake to make every encounter a “killer” encounter. The party either runs from everything – which is hardly fun for the DM or the players – or the party suffers a constant high mortality with the consequences already listed.

    Some encounters should be easy for the party although it is a good device to make the encounter appear more difficult than it really is. Such encounters often produce interesting role playing situations where the party may back down from or bribe an inferior monster that they do not recognize.

    It is also useful to confront the party with encounters they cannot defeat. The phrase from Monty Python and the Holy Grailrun away! – should be considered a good tactic by the party in some situations. This produces interesting role playing situations where the party may flee, throw down distractions such as food or valuables, or attempt to bribe a monster to not kill them.

    But the DM must provide the players with a possibility of successfully dealing with each situation. Please note that “successfully dealing” with a situation does not mean defeating the monster. It may involve that, but it may just as easily mean treating with a monster, bribing a monster, or running like the wind. If the DM does not provide that “out”, PC mortality increases.

    Summary

    PC death makes the play more exciting for everyone but pulling out a victory from the jaws of defeat is even more exciting. It’s a fine line that the DM must walk.

    Each DM has their own opinion and tolerance for rules which will reduce PC mortality at low levels. The above ideas are a collection of ideas used by a wide variety of DMs – it’s not likely any DM will use all of them, nor is it recommended. Each DM needs to find their own comfort zone of which rules to implement, which to ignore, and should remember that trying a rule doesn’t mean it has to be a permanent fixture of the campaign. Rules that don’t work should be discarded in favor of ones that do.


    Sidebar: You Can’t Fix Stupid

    When isn’t it ok to keep the party alive? When they are playing poorly or when one or more PCs is performing actions likely to result in PC death.

    This depends heavily upon player experience. With beginners it may be appropriate to pull punches, to ask questions like, “are you sure you want to stick your head in that thing’s mouth?”, to provide a bit of foreshadowing as a warning. With experienced players it may also be appropriate to ask the questions and give foreshadowing, to give the player a chance to re-think an action.

    If they proceed anyway? As comedian Ron White says, “you can’t fix stupid”. Don’t save the party from their own folly?

    What if one player is derailing the campaign by repeatedly doing suicidal things? Same answer – let them do it and face the consequences. But avoid spreading those fatal results to the remainder of the party. If a player keeps getting themselves killed, but no one else is harmed? Ideally they’ll learn to play better or will quit.


    This page last updated: 05 June 2013

    Copyright 2013 Bryan Fazekas

  • Extendable Rules for Turning Undead

    October 2006

    This article was written in December 2005, formalizing ideas I had used many moons ago. Originally published in Footprints, published by Dragonsfoot, I’m republishing it here in HTML format.

    Copyright 1990, 2005-2006, 2011-2014 by Bryan Fazekas, all rights reserved. This document may not be published or reproduced in any fashion except with explicit permission of the author.

    March 2011

    Due to a question in the Yahoo Group FirstEditonDND I added Table U5 Part III to cover clerics up to level 30.

    Note: For ease of use, I created a summarized version of this rule.


    Back in the day …

    The cleric table for turning undead, Dungeon Master’s Guide (DMG) page 75, was originally written when AD&D was newly published, and the Monster Manual (MM) was THE source for all monsters. That table listed 12 undead plus the “Special” entry, which covered evil creatures of the lower planes with suggestions for which lower plane monsters were exempt from turning. At that time it covered all the known undead creatures and it functioned well.

    Things were great, right? Yes they were! Unfortunately, they didn’t stay that way for long …

    Rather quickly problems reared their ugly heads! For instance, how does the DM handle the situation if a more powerful skeleton is created? Say an NPC animates a hill giant skeleton as a 6 hit die monster. Does a cleric turn it as the 1 HD skeleton, or turn it as a mummy, which is 6+3 HD? Then comes the Fiend Folio (FF) and the Monster Manual II (MMII) with more undead creatures. And what about the banshee (groaning spirit) in the MM that wasn’t included in the list of undead? Many DMs, including myself, adapted by using an undead monster that had the same hit dice as the new undead monster.

    This worked but didn’t exactly feel right. Using the above example, although I treated a 6 HD skeleton as a mummy for turning, it didn’t really fit because a mummy is a FAR more dangerous foe.

    A closer examination of the MM undead list shows other discrepancies. Table U1 lists the MM undead in the order presented in the turning table along with their hit dice. Zombies and ghouls have the same hit dice but have different turning values. The ghast has less hit dice than the wight but has a higher turning value.

    Table U1 — Undead Monsters and Hit Dice

    Undead Type Hit Dice
    Skeleton 1
    Zombie 2
    Ghoul 2
    Shadow 3+3
    Wight 4+3
    Ghast 4
    Wraith 5+3
    Mummy 6+3
    Spectre 7+3
    Vampire 8+3
    Ghost 10
    Lich 11+
    Special

     

    So, a new ranking system for turning undead is needed, one that fairly ranks the existing undead monster AND helps the DM handle non-standard ones. The obvious conclusion is that hit dice alone is not a sufficient criterion for ranking undead for the purpose of turning by a cleric. So what is the criteria?

    Ranking the Undead

    I continued my examination by listing the special defenses and attacks of each undead, as that seemed to be a good place to start. Table U2 lists the undead from the MM, including the banshee but excluding Special (which can’t really be classified), and adds the undead from the MMII and the FF. Note: The demilich, haunt, phantom, and revenant are not included as they cannot be turned.

    The list shows a lot of commonality, things like requiring silver/magic weapons to hit and special attacks such as draining (strength, levels, etc.). Also, a few undead monsters have low armor class and/or magic resistance.

    Table U2 — Undead Special Abilities

    Base HD Undead Creature Special Attacks Special Defenses
    1/2 Poltergeist silver or magic to hit
    1 Skeleton
    1-1 Skeleton, Animal
    2 Coffer Corpse magic to hit
    2 Ghoul paralyzation
    2 Huecuva disease silver or magic to hit
    2 Zombie
    3 Sheet Phantom
    3+12 Zombie, Juju magic to hit
    3+3 Shadow drain strength magic to hit
    4 Ghast paralyzation
    4 Penanggalan
    4 Son of Kyuss disease regeneration
    4+2 Sheet Ghoul
    4+3 Wight energy drain (1) silver or magic to hit
    5+3 Wraith energy drain (1) silver or magic to hit
    6 Crypt Thing magic to hit
    6 Zombie, Monster
    6+3 Mummy disease magic to hit
    7 Groaning Spirit death wail AC0, 50% magic resistance, magic to hit
    7+3 Spectre energy drain (2) magic to hit
    8 Appirition silver or magic to hit, AC0
    8+3 Vampire energy drain (2) magic to hit, regenerate
    9 Death Knight 75% magic resistance, AC0
    9+ Skeleton Warrior magic to hit, 90% magic resistance
    10 Ghost age victim AC0, silver or magic to hit
    11+ Lich magic to hit, AC0
    12 Eye of Fear & Flame

     

    Most of the special abilities have to do with the connection to the Negative Plane. Skeletons taking half damage from edged weapons and the ghasts’ stench are significant exceptions, which I later decided to exclude as they result from the physical properties of the respective monsters rather than an “undead ability” like the other special abilities. [Personally, a ghast’s stench attack is more a matter of poor personal hygiene …]

    This provided a basis for creating a metric which determines the relative strength of each undead. I used hit dice as a basis for comparison, as it is the standard indicator of monster strength. Then I added hit dice modifiers based upon special abilities. See Table U3 for the list of hit dice modifiers used.

    Table U3 — Adjusted Hit Dice Modifiers

    Special Ability

    Description

    age victim 1 point for aging the victim
    armor class 1 point for every 2 points of AC below 2, e.g., AC0 is 1 point, AC-2 is 2 points, etc.
    death wail 1 point
    inflict disease 1 point
    drain energy level 1 point
    drain attribute 1 point for each attribute drained, e.g., if a monster drains strength AND constitution that counts as 2 points.
    magic resistance 1 point for every 25% of magic resistance, e.g., 1% to 25% is 1 point, 26% to 50% is 2 points, etc.
    paralyzation 1 point
    regeneration 1 point
    silver or magic weapon to hit 1 point per plus required to hit, so silver or +1 weapon is 1 point, +2 weapon to hit is 2 points, etc.

     

    To generate the “base” HD, I dropped any pluses just to simplify things. Next, I added 1 point for each special ability as this reflects additional power. This results in an undead monster’s Adjusted Hit Die (AHD) score. Table U4 lists the results for each undead, sorted by the AHD.

    Table U4 — Undead Adjusted Hit Dice

    Undead Creature Base HD # Special Abilities Adjusted HD
    Poltergeist 1/2 1 1
    Skeleton 1 0 1
    Skeleton, Animal 1-1 0 1
    Zombie 2 0 2
    Coffer Corpse 2 1 3
    Ghoul 2 1 3
    Sheet Phantom 3 0 3
    Huecuva 3 1 4
    Penanggalan 4 0 4
    Sheet Ghoul 4+2 0 4
    Zombie, Juju 3+12 1 4
    Ghast 4 1 5
    Shadow 3+3 2 5
    Son of Kyuss 4 2 6
    Wight 4+3 2 6
    Zombie, Monster 6 0 6
    Crypt Thing 6 1 7
    Wraith 5+3 2 7
    Mummy 6+3 2 8
    Spectre 7+3 2 9
    Apparition 8 2 10
    Vampire 8+3 3 11
    Eye of Fear & Flame 12 0 12
    Groaning Spirit 7 5 12
    Death Knight 9 4 13
    Ghost 10 3 13
    Lich 11+ 2 13+
    Skeleton Warrior 9+ 5 14+

     

    A quick review of Table U4 shows that it appears to make sense. The undead monsters from the MM are mostly in their original order, although the shadow and ghast now have the same turning value while the wight is now harder to turn than the ghast. But “sanity check” of the special abilities listed in Table U2, the AHD does make sense in defining the strength of undead monsters in deciding which is more difficult for a cleric to turn.

    Let’s check to see if this system is balanced, whether it ranks new monsters in terms of relative strength. So we create a 5+5 HD zombie that drains strength on each hit and is immune to non-magical weapons. It’s base HD is 5 which gets adjusted upward to 7 for two special abilities. The wraith has an AHD of 7 — is this monster equivalent to a wraith? A brief comparison of difficulty to fight indicates that they are fairly equivalent.

    Just as importantly, this also handles the need that originally pushed me to experiment — it is extensible. I can create ANY undead with any hit dice and any special abilities, and easily figure out what value a cleric of any level needs to roll to turn it.

    More rules could be added to try to rank the undead even more “fairly”, but more rules complicate things quickly. I did some experimentation with other factors but quickly realized I was going to have to invent a percentile system to handle the rolling, which I felt was too complicated.

    New Turning Table

    Now that the undead monsters are ranked, both those that we know about and those that haven’t been invented yet, it’s time to determine what the turning table looks like.

    I started with the original Turning Table from the DMG. It made a lot of sense, but I felt that some of the progression values were a bit skewed. So I modified the progression slightly, starting with 20 and working backwards in increments of 3. Keeping the ability to turn a skeleton at 1st level about the same (my table requires an 11 while the original requires a 10), I worked from there, giving the cleric the ability to turn an additional AHD of undead for each additional level of experience.

    This gives a cleric a 50% chance of turning an undead whose AHD is the same as the cleric’s level, and the cleric still has a chance to turn an undead up to 3 AHD higher than his current level.

    Table U5 shows the new Matrix for Clerics Affecting Undead. The first column shows the AHD, which along with cleric level of experience is the real driver for the table. The second column lists the known undead to simplify use. As other undead are added to a campaign the Undead Type column can be penciled in.

    Table U5 — Matrix for Clerics Affecting Undead (Revised), Part I

    Cleric Level †
    AHD Undead Type 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
    1 Poltergeist, Skeleton, Animal Skeleton 11 8 5 2 T T T D D D
    2 Zombie 14 11 8 5 2 T T T D D
    3 Coffer Corpse, Ghoul, Sheet Phantom 17 14 11 8 5 2 T T T D
    4 Huecuva, Penanggalan, Sheet Ghoul, Juju Zombie 20 17 14 11 8 5 2 T T T
    5 Ghast, Shadow 20 17 14 11 8 5 2 T T
    6 Son of Kyuss, Wight, Monster Zombie 20 17 14 11 8 5 2 T
    7 Crypt Thing, Wraith 20 17 14 11 8 5 2
    8 Mummy 20 17 14 11 8 5
    9 Spectre 20 17 14 11 8
    10 Apparition 20 17 14 11
    11 Vampire 20 17 14
    12 Eye Of Fear & Flame, Groaning Spirit 20 17
    13 Death Knight, Ghost, Lich 20
    14 Skeleton Warrior
    15 ??
    16 ??
    17 ??
    18 ??
    19 ??
    20 ??
    21 ??
    22 ??
    23+ ??

    Table U5 — Matrix for Clerics Affecting Undead (Revised), Part II

    Cleric Level †
    AHD Undead Type 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20
    1 Poltergeist, Skeleton, Animal Skeleton D1 D1 D1 D2 D2 D2 D3 D3 D3 D3
    2 Zombie D D1 D1 D1 D2 D2 D2 D3 D3 D3
    3 Coffer Corpse, Ghoul, Sheet Phantom D D D1 D1 D1 D2 D2 D2 D3 D3
    4 Huecuva, Penanggalan, Sheet Ghoul, Juju Zombie D D D D1 D1 D1 D2 D2 D2 D3
    5 Ghast, Shadow T D D D D1 D1 D1 D2 D2 D2
    6 Son of Kyuss, Wight, Monster Zombie T T D D D D1 D1 D1 D2 D2
    7 Crypt Thing, Wraith T T T D D D D1 D1 D1 D2
    8 Mummy 2 T- T T D D D D1 D1 D1
    9 Spectre 5 2 T T T D D D D1 D1
    10 Apparition 8 5 2 T T T D D D D1
    11 Vampire 11 8 5 2 T T T D D D
    12 Eye Of Fear & Flame, Groaning Spirit 14 11 8 5 2 T T T D D
    13 Death Knight, Ghost, Lich 17 14 11 8 5 2 T T T D
    14 Skeleton Warrior 20 17 14 11 8 5 2 T T T
    15 ?? 20 17 14 11 8 5 2 T T
    16 ?? 20 17 14 11 8 5 2 T
    17 ?? 20 17 14 11 8 5 2
    18 ?? 20 17 14 11 8 5
    19 ?? 20 17 14 11 8
    20 ?? 20 17 14 11
    21 ?? 20 17 14
    22 ?? 20 17
    23+ ?? 20

    Table U5 — Matrix for Clerics Affecting Undead (Revised), Part III

    Cleric Level †
    AHD Undead Type 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30
    1 Poltergeist, Skeleton, Animal Skeleton D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3
    2 Zombie D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3
    3 Coffer Corpse, Ghoul, Sheet Phantom D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3
    4 Huecuva, Penanggalan, Sheet Ghoul, Juju Zombie D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3
    5 Ghast, Shadow D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3
    6 Son of Kyuss, Wight, Monster Zombie D2 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3
    7 Crypt Thing, Wraith D2 D2 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3
    8 Mummy D2 D2 D2 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3
    9 Spectre D1 D2 D2 D2 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3
    10 Apparition D1 D1 D2 D2 D2 D3 D3 D3 D3 D3
    11 Vampire D1 D1 D1 D2 D2 D2 D3 D3 D3 D3
    12 Eye Of Fear & Flame, Groaning Spirit D D1 D1 D1 D2 D2 D2 D3 D3 D3
    13 Death Knight, Ghost, Lich D D D1 D1 D1 D2 D2 D2 D3 D3
    14 Skeleton Warrior D D D D1 D1 D1 D2 D2 D2 D3
    15 ?? T D D D D11 D1 D1 D2 D2 D2
    16 ?? T T D D D D1 D1 D1 D2 D2
    17 ?? T T T D D D D1 D1 D1 D2
    18 ?? 2 T T T D D D D1 D1 D1
    19 ?? 5 S T T T D D D D1 D1
    20 ?? 8 5 2 T T T D D D D1
    21 ?? 11 8 5 2 T T T D D D
    22 ?? 14 11 8 5 2 T T T D D
    23+ ?? 17 14 11 8 5 2 T T T D

    Author’s Note: Readers will note that when I added Table U5 Part III the monster level (AHD) wasn’t increased. At this time I don’t see a need, but if there’s a call to do so I’ll add more rows to the table.

    Notes:

    Paladins turn undead as a cleric two levels below their own.
    ?? No undead creature with an AHD of this value existed at the time this article was written.

    Rules for Turning:

    When turning or commanding into service undead creatures locate the entry for the cleric’s level and the adjusted hit dice of the monster. Following are the instructions for each value:

    The cleric has no chance of turning or commanding this monster.
    <nn> If this number or greater is rolled on a 1d20 the cleric has turned or commanded 1-12 (d12) undead. If turned the affected number will move away from the cleric at maximum speed, or if unable to do so will move as far from the cleric as possible.
    T Indicates the cleric automatically turns 1-12 (1d12) undead.
    D Instead of turning the undead the cleric destroys 1-12 (1d12) of them.
    D1 Same as D, but the number destroyed is 7-12 (1d6+6).
    D2 Same as D, but the number destroyed is 8-18 (2d6+6).
    D3 Same as D, but the number destroyed is 14-24 (2d6+12).

     

    A comparison of Table U5 with the original Turning table shows that the cleric has somewhat less power to turn or command undead at lower levels. This was not by design, but I’m not displeased with the way it worked out. I’ve always thought that clerics turned undead too easily, requiring the DM to hit a party with undead that were stronger than the party was really capable of handling, just to get around the problem of the cleric turning the undead easily.

    The original table clumps cleric levels together starting at 9th, but since the new table is based in part upon AHD, I chose to not group cleric levels. I did choose to make the table run as high as 20th level cleric, which corresponding pushed the AHD to 23. Currently I don’t believe that it is necessary to extend the table past either maximum, but am learned enough to know that setting a hard limit is the best way to get someone to exceed it, so the table can easily be extended to any cleric level or AHD desired.

    Part 2 of Table U5 allows for higher level clerics to automatically destroy greater numbers of undead. This balances the slight loss of power in lower level clerics. At lower levels the clerics cannot turn some of the more powerful undead, but at higher levels they can destroy more undead. At the same time it doesn’t unbalance the game — a 20th level cleric can destroy 14-24 skeletons of 1 HD, which is cool. But what DM is going to throw 1 HD skeletons against a cleric that powerful??? [Well, *I* might, but there’d be 200 skeletons in the group, so the automatic destruction of 14-24 wouldn’t have all that much effect!]

    Handling Special Creatures

    One thing the new table doesn’t address is the handling of the “Special” entry of the original table. There are a couple of ways to handle that. One is to stick with the original rules, which indicate that a creature of the lower planes is immune if it fulfills any of the three following criteria:

    AC -5 or better ** OR **
    11 or more HD ** OR **
    66% or greater magic resistance

    But this won’t really work, as there is no longer a “Special” entry in the table. It makes more sense to handle creatures of the lower planes like any undead — use the monster’s hit dice as the basis and adjust that value based upon special abilities. This throws out the hit dice criteria for Special creatures, but it makes the case for considering armor class and magic resistance.

    So the creatures of the lower planes should be treated like undead, and since they bring new special abilities to the table, the list of specials abilities to include in figuring the AHD is listed in Table U3.

    The above rules make turning lower planar creatures difficult in general, and powerful ones near impossible, and singular creatures such as demon lords virtually impossible even for the highest level clerics. But this is good for game balance.

    It has been noted in some articles that if lower planar creatures can be affected by clerics, so can upper planar creatures. So an evil cleric may have a chance to turn a deva, or command into service a devil. And a good cleric may have the chance to command into service any upper planar creature.

    It should be noted that commanding any intelligent creature against its will is likely to create resentment, so when the commanding period ends the commanded creature may consider the cleric an enemy.

    Situational Modifiers

    The above rules may be modified for situation. A cleric in a place of power for his deity or alignment should have additional ability to turn undead. Due to the composition of the table I would not grant a bonus to the roll as is done for combat and saving throws. A 1st level cleric has no chance to turn shadow so adding 2 (or 10) to the roll doesn’t help. Instead grant additional levels of turning ability for the situation.

    For instance, our first level cleric is attacked by a shadow in a shrine of a the cleric’s deity. That cleric has no chance to turn the shadow. But since he is defending a shrine to his deity I would grant him an additional number of levels of turning ability. Let’s assume the cleric is a faithful follower of his deity and does everything a proper cleric should — so I grant him 2 additional levels, so he in that specific situation he would be able to turn the shadow as a 3rd level cleric. Instead of having no chance he turns the shadow on 17. Not a great chance of turning, but certainly better than nothing.

    If instead of a shrine the location was a major temple, the additional turning ability for a very devout cleric might be increased by 4 levels, depending if the deity is a major god and the importance of the temple to that deity. Or if the cleric was not in the good graces of his deity the granted value might be less, nothing at all, or even a negative.

    In the same fashion, if that same cleric was fighting undead in a temple of an opposing deity, his ability to turn undead might be reduced by similar amounts. Or attempting to turn a lich in the lich’s lair may impose a significant penalty.

    It’s all up to the DM’s interpretation …


    This page last updated: 12 August 2011

    Copyright 2007, 2011 Bryan Fazekas

  • Revised Saving Throw Matrix

    In Dragon Magazine #80 in the column Leomund’s Tiny Hut Lenard Lakofka published a revised saving throws table that smoothed out the incremental changes by level, e.g., instead of the Magic User changing saving throws every 4 levels, slight changes were made more often.

    Upon reading Lenard’s article I immediately adopted his version of this table into my campaigns. I’ve reproduced the table on this page for your edification. Note: I made no changes to this table for this publication. Allowing for format changes and possible errors on my part this table is identical with that published in Dragon Magazine #80.

    Saving Throw Matrix

    Level or Hit Dice
    Class 0 1-1 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21
    Paralyzation/Poison/Death Magic
    Cleric 12 11 10 10 9 9 8 8 7 7 6 6 6 5 5 5 4 4 4 3 2 2 2
    Fighter 16 15 14 13 13 12 11 10 10 9 8 7 7 6 5 4 4 3 3 3 3 3 3
    MU 16 15 14 14 14 13 13 13 12 12 12 11 11 11 11 11 10 10 10 9 9 9 8
    Thief 15 14 13 13 13 12 12 12 12 11 11 11 11 10 10 10 10 9 9 9 9 8 8
    Petrification/Polymorph
    Cleric 15 14 13 13 12 12 12 11 10 10 9 9 9 8 8 8 7 7 7 6 5 5 5
    Fighter 17 16 15 14 14 13 12 11 11 10 9 8 8 7 6 5 5 4 4 4 4 4 4
    MU 15 14 13 13 12 12 11 11 11 10 10 9 9 9 8 8 7 7 7 6 6 5 5
    Thief 14 13 13 12 12 12 11 11 11 11 10 10 10 10 9 9 9 9 8 8 8 8 7
    Rod/Staff/Wand
    Cleric 16 15 14 14 13 13 12 11 11 11 10 10 10 9 9 9 8 8 8 7 6 6 6
    Fighter 18 17 16 15 15 14 13 12 12 11 10 9 9 8 7 6 6 5 5 5 5 5 5
    MU 13 12 11 11 10 10 9 9 9 8 8 7 7 7 6 6 5 5 5 4 4 3 3
    Thief 16 15 14 14 13 13 12 12 11 11 10 10 9 9 8 8 7 7 6 6 5 5 4
    Breath Weapon
    Cleric 18 17 16 16 15 15 15 14 13 13 12 12 12 11 11 11 10 10 10 9 8 8 8
    Fighter 20 19 17 16 16 15 13 12 12 11 9 8 8 7 5 5 4 4 4 4 4 4 4
    MU 17 16 15 15 14 14 13 13 13 12 12 11 11 11 10 10 9 9 9 8 8 7 7
    Thief 18 17 16 16 16 15 15 15 15 14 14 14 14 13 13 13 13 12 12 12 12 11 11
    Spells
    Cleric 17 16 15 15 14 14 14 13 12 12 11 11 11 10 10 10 9 9 9 8 7 7 7
    Fighter 19 18 17 16 16 15 14 13 13 12 11 10 10 9 8 7 7 6 6 6 6 6 6
    MU 14 13 12 12 11 11 10 10 10 9 9 8 8 8 7 7 6 6 6 5 5 4 4
    Thief 17 16 15 15 14 14 13 13 12 12 11 11 10 10 9 9 8 8 7 7 6 6 5

  • Revised Combat Matrix

    This page contains a revised Combat Matrix for all levels and hit dice of characters and monsters.

    The Combat Matrix presented here is reproduced from an article published by Lenard Lakofka in Dragon Magazine #80. Lenard’s article was on the “5% Rule” which evened the attack tables out and made the progression more even. I made no contribution to his effort other than re-typing the table itself. I stake no claim to this particular effort, merely posting it here for others to use.

    To use the matrix:

    The first 5 rows of each section of the matrix are the hit dice (monsters) or levels (Fight, Cleric, Thief, or Magic-User) for which a to-hit number is needed.

    Below those rows, the final 11 rows of each matrix are for the Armor Class indicated in the left-most column.

    For example, to find the to-hit number for a 5th level thief against armor class 4, first locate the thief’s level in the 4th row, the fifth column in the table. From there, follow that column down until “4” is listed in the left-most column. This indicate “15” is what the thief needs to roll to hit armor class 4.


    Revised Combat Matrix

    HD: 1-2 hp 1-4 hp 1-1 1 1+1 to 1+3
    F: 0 M@A 1 2 3
    C: 1 to 2 3 4 to 5
    T: 1 to 2 3 to 4 5 6 to 7
    MU: 1 2 to 3 4 to 5 6 to 7 8 to 9
    10 12 11 10 9 8
    9 13 12 11 10 9
    8 14 13 12 11 10
    7 15 14 13 12 11
    6 16 15 14 13 12
    5 17 16 15 14 13
    4 18 17 16 15 14
    3 19 18 17 16 15
    2 20 19 18 17 16
    1 20 20 19 18 17
    0 20 20 20 19 18
    -1 20 20 20 20 19
    -2 20 20 20 20 20
    -3 20 20 20 20 20
    -4 21 20 20 20 20
    -5 22 21 20 20 20
    -6 23 22 21 20 20
    -7 24 23 22 21 20
    -8 25 24 23 22 21
    -9 26 25 24 23 22
    -10 27 26 25 24 23

     


     

    HD: 1+4 to 2+3 2+4 to 3+3 3+4 to 4+3 4+4 to 6+3 6+4 to 7+3
    F: 4 5 6 7 8
    C: 6 7 to 8 9 10 to 11 12
    T: 8 9 to 10 11 to 12 13 to 14 15 to 16
    MU: 10 11 to 12 13 14 to 15 16 to 17
    10 7 6 5 4 3
    9 8 7 6 5 4
    8 9 8 7 6 5
    7 10 9 8 7 6
    6 11 10 9 8 7
    5 12 11 10 9 8
    4 13 12 11 10 9
    3 14 13 12 11 10
    2 15 14 13 12 11
    1 16 15 14 13 12
    0 17 16 15 14 13
    -1 18 17 16 15 14
    -2 19 18 17 16 15
    -3 20 19 18 17 16
    -4 20 20 19 18 17
    -5 20 20 20 19 18
    -6 20 20 20 20 19
    -7 20 20 20 20 20
    -8 20 20 20 20 20
    -9 21 20 20 20 20
    -10 22 21 20 20 20

     


     

    HD: 7+4 to 8+3 8+4 to 9+3 9+4 to 11+3 11+4 to 12+3 13+4 to 15+3
    F: 9 10 11 12 13
    C: 13 to 14 15 16 to 17 18 19+
    T: 17 to 18 19 to 20 21+
    MU: 18 to 20 21+
    10 2 1 0 -1 -2
    9 3 2 1 0 -1
    8 4 3 2 1 0
    7 5 4 3 2 1
    6 6 5 4 3 2
    5 7 6 5 4 3
    4 8 7 6 5 4
    3 9 8 7 6 5
    2 10 9 8 7 6
    1 11 10 9 8 7
    0 12 11 10 9 8
    -1 13 12 11 10 9
    -2 14 13 12 11 10
    -3 15 14 13 12 11
    -4 16 15 14 13 12
    -5 17 16 15 14 13
    -6 18 17 16 15 14
    -7 19 18 17 16 15
    -8 20 19 18 17 16
    -9 20 20 19 18 17
    -10 20 20 20 19 18

     


     

    HD: 15+4 to 16+3 16+4 to 19+3 19+4 to 22+3 22+4 & up
    F: 14 15 16 17+
    C:
    T:
    MU:
    10 -3 -4 -5 -6
    9 -2 -3 -4 -5
    8 -1 -2 -3 -4
    7 0 -1 -2 -3
    6 1 0 -1 -2
    5 2 1 0 -1
    4 3 2 1 0
    3 4 3 2 1
    2 5 4 3 2
    1 6 5 4 3
    0 7 6 5 4
    -1 8 7 6 5
    -2 9 8 7 6
    -3 10 9 8 7
    -4 11 10 9 8
    -5 12 11 10 9
    -6 13 12 11 10
    -7 14 13 12 11
    -8 15 14 13 12
    -9 16 15 14 13
    -10 17 16 15 14
  • Paquin Crii

    June 2013

    I originally named this wonderfully useful NPC “Panamon Creel”, after the character from Terry Brook’s novel The Sword of Shannara. For publication in & Magazine, Issue 4 in February 2013, I changed the name to avoid copyright infringement. This article is published here in its published format.


    Paquin Crii

    History

    Paquin Crii was born in the year 7866 ASNK in the city/state of Refuge, into a family of great prestige and honor, but little wealth remaining. Being of high nobility he spent much of his youth in the Grand Palace of Refuge. He grew up close friends with Deley Porsupah, nephew of the king Keken Miltoat.

    Training together in the arts of combat, they went to war against Refuge’s rival trading port Nequat. In vicious fighting both young men showed great skill and courage, and each received battle field honors for their many victories.

    Upon completion of the war Crii returned home to find his father dead and the little that remained of the estate gone to pay creditors. With no family or support he left Refuge for a life of adventure at the tender age of 22. His life away from Refuge is almost entirely unknown.

    Miltoat employed strict measures during the four years that the war with Nequat lasted. Becoming paranoid with age, Miltoat chose not to repeal the measures imposed by war. In the following years further measures were added to the already strict ones. Taxes crushed the already weakened economy.

    A number of important and influential people spoke to the king, and when no results were gained, spoke openly against the measures. The most outspoken were imprisoned on trumped up charges, and later on no charges at all. When that did not quiet the noisy voices more arrests were made and the most vocal were executed regardless of station.

    Among the arrested were the King’s nephew Deley. The young man had been imprisoned for several years imprisoned when Crii returned to Refuge.

    This was not the Paquin Crii of old. He looked more worn than typically does a man of thirty, and his left hand was replaced by a poniard. Hearing of his friend’s plight he staged a lone assault on the castle and succeeded in releasing and escaping with Deley and other important prisoners.

    Miltoat believed the Assassins Guild was responsible and began a vicious war upon that organization. Three months later the war ended abruptly with the death of the King and his immediate family. Gone also were the entire hierarchy of the Guild, a blow it never recovered from.

    His uncle dead, Deley assumed the throne. He released all surviving political prisoners and established a fair law system, repealing the harsh measures implemented by his unlamented uncle. He has ruled since that time with Crii at his right hand.

    Paquin Crii

    Human Fighter 7 / Assassin 15

    Align Lawful Evil

    hp 127

    Str 18/41, Int 14, Wis 12, Dex 18, Con 16, Cha 14

    Thief Abilities:

    Pick Pockets: 105%
    Open Locks: 82%
    Find/Remove Traps: 80%
    Move Silently: 99%
    Hide in Shadows: 85%
    Hear Noise: 40%
    Climb Walls: 99.3%
    Read Languages: 65%
    Backstab: 5x damage
    Read Scrolls: 75%

    Originally trained as a soldier, Crii is is reputed to be a deadly swordsman, although he has not had to publicly demonstrate his skill in years. He regularly practices at the Royal School for Guardsmen, so none doubt his ability is as deadly now as it ever was. It is rumored that his poniard is enchanted stronger than his sword, but that rumor has never been verified. In fact, he is double-specialized in short sword, attacking twice per round at +3 to-hit and damage. His lost left hand was replaced by a short poniard many years ago, and by the time he returned to Refuge he was accomplished in two weapon fighting, striking a third time each round with the poniard (treat it as a dagger).

    Crii’s training as an assassin has given him exceptional ability with thrown daggers. All his daggers, including the magical ones, are specially weighted so he gets his full strength bonus to-hit and damage, in addition to +3 to-hit for dexterity. His range with these daggers is twice normal range and he can assassinate with thrown daggers at medium range.

    His items include: Short Sword +4, Dagger +3, Dagger +1, 4x non-magical daggers, Bracers of Defense AC2, Ring of Protection +3, Cloak of Protection +3, Banded Mail +3, 100′ Rope of Climbing, Ring of Shadows. He normally wears his Bracers, Ring of Protection, and Cloak of Protection, giving him AC -8. In field situations he wears his magic banded bail with an effective AC of -3.

    Crii is currently in his mid-50’s. His beard is solid grey although his hair remains dark excepting grey in the temples. His public persona is “playboy”, he always has a woman on his arm during public events although rarely the same one twice. He never married and apparently has produced no bastards. His private life is just that – private. Even Deley knows little of Crii’s personal affairs.

    Behind the Scenes

    During the civil war Crii negotiated with the Assassins Guild to gain its cooperation in the fight, utilizing them to remove Miltoat’s supporters. At the conclusion of the final battle Crii orchestrated the total destruction of the Guild leadership and quietly assumed control during rebuilding.

    His control over the Guild is absolute. Only the top three leaders in the guild know who the Guildmaster is, and they received a Geas to never indicate his identity to anyone. They control an organization that is far stronger that it had been under the previous leadership.

    Crii’s friendship and devotion to the king are not feigned. There is literally nothing he will not do to protect his childhood friend. Under his tenure the direction of the Guild changed so that it is more aptly termed the secret police of the kingdom than a criminal organization. However, even the top leaders don’t fully realize the guild’s position as protector of the kingdom.

    Assassination in the kingdom is kept low key. Paid jobs always look like accidents or the work of foreign thieves or brigands. No evidence that there is an Assassins Guild in Refuge ever surfaces – everyone knows it was aligned with Miltoat and all members killed or fled at the end of the civil war.

    Traitors to the throne are publicly exposed or framed, and then publicly executed. Guild members are expected to learn the soft arts of assassination as well as the more direct means. The Guild pulls the strings in several nearby kingdoms where the local Guild Master, a servant of the Refuge guild, does not put the same pretty face on the guild.

    Non-member assassins are required to join the Guild (if they prove acceptable) and abide by its rules, to find alternate means of employment, or to leave the kingdoms. The Guild typically places blame on non-members when the assassination of person of high station occurs, so a few are “allowed” to operate independently until needed as the patsy.

    The guild leadership is required to carefully consider what jobs they accept, and to consider who customer and the victim are. Crii is known to override decisions and occasionally customers will die at the hands of foreign thieves during a home invasion, or similar unsuspicious circumstances. Crii’s deciding factor is the long term good of Deley and the kingdom.

    Crii’s friends are wide ranging, including many notables in the kingdom. His most noted friend is the paladin Avatar, who is known widely for his many exploits in the destruction of evil. Regardless of what happened to Crii during his “lost years”, he is a member of the high nobility, the product of many generations of breeding. The only thing he places above his own honor is the safety of his closest friends.


    This page last updated: 04 June 2013

    Copyright 2013 Bryan Fazekas

  • D&D Survival Tips

    In February & March of 2009 a couple of threads started in the Dragonsfoot forums, where people offered survival tips for the dungeon and wilderness. Some of the tips were serious, some less so … some VERY much less so. I took the action to compile the two lists, which I organized into one and republished in the forums. A few days later I decided these were worth preserving elsewhere … elsewhere being my AD&D site.

    The list is organized by section with the poster’s Dragonsfoot identity listed.


    D&D Survival Tips

    Who Tip
    Adventure Preparation
    mbassoc2003 Don’t go down the hole. Stay up top and work on a farm. If you must ignore Tip No.1 proceed with reading the rest of this book.
    Milo Stay out of dungeons whenever possible. You may never come out!
    shadowheart469 Plan. Before. You. Go.
    Jarlaxle ALWAYS have at least 2 characters with torches.
    Jarlaxle Bring a few candles…no reason to announce your presence to everyone with a lantern or torch (as well as spoiling the infravision of the elf bowmen on guard duty) when a MU can read his spell book just fine with an ordinary taper.
    Jarlaxle Carry a tent on the pack mule…trying to sleep in the rain sucks.
    serleran Always have a roll of twine; its like Medieval duct tape and you’re a Renaissance MacGuyver.
    MrNexx Carry weapons of a variety of materials… steel sword, silver dagger, and wooden club.
    adidamps2 Carry a weapons of different wounding types: piercing, slashing, bludgeoning (sp)…
    Grypharius The cleric is always your best friend otherwise you may not make it out alive, let alone cursed, possessed, level drained, diseased, blinded, poisoned, etc . . .
    Grypharius I stress the importance of someone playing the cleric; or in some cases druid.
    Town Adventures
    Saunatonttu Don’t mess with the Bartender, he’s a retired adventurer of higher level than you.
    Grim If its wet and the Bartender didn’t hand it to you in a tankard, it will probably kill you.
    Telemachus If it’s wet and the Bartender did hand it to you in a tankard, it will probably also kill you.
    Sikil “Come serve me woman!” is NOT a good pick-up line, gents, not even if you’re CE.
    NPCs & Animals
    shadowheart469 If you find a cute, cuddly animal in the middle of a dreadful dungeon, do not pet it, do not feed it, and do not adopt it. It is probably safest to run away (even attempting to kill it may be a bad idea).
    Carnifex Never under any circumstance volunteer information to NPC’s.
    adriapaladin Always charm/telepathy a small animal/NPC and find out how they get around the dungeon without getting eaten.
    Telemachus Ensure the mule is fully trained.
    adriapaladin NPCs mourning the guys you killed in the extra-dimensional space don’t like to hear, “Oh , well, he would have died eventually anyways. We tried.”
    shadowheart469 If the Princess can be kidnapped, she can also be charmed/brainwashed.
    shadowheart469 You will not achieve a lasting, long-term alliance with the Orc tribe.
    adriapaladin If you’re using your awesome charisma on someone, beware of whoever’s standing behind him. It might be all well and good to flirt with Prince Charming, but the guy next to him might offer to raise legions of demons for you. And the girl on his right might have interest too.
    Extempus Never, ever, under any circumstances, make a deal with a devil (or a demon, for that matter), unless you are extremely powerful and can track it down and kick it’s ass if it screws you over.
    Dragondaddy A suitable sacrifice for the Goblin Underlord goes a long way to establishing your credentials as a serious trade delegation.
    Madalch Don’t anger any druids
    Saunatonttu If you steal a druid’s ‘shrooms, bad things will happen.
    Saunatonttu An illusionist on ‘shrooms is much more dangerous than one not on them.
    Escape
    winemaker81 Never run through an unknown dungeon.
    Grim Run away, run away, run away! (See first post)
    Celendril Truebow In a dungeon, there is no such thing as “away”. If it ran, you will see it again and it will be angry, more hungry or both and it WILL remember you!
    garhkal Don’t go down the dark stairwell until all that is on the current level is dead.
    Varl Always make sure there is one member of the party slower than you.
    Jarlaxle Remember: you only have to outrun the guy in plate armor, not the monsters.
    Distorted Humor if you are the slowest (and of suitable alignment), trip a hireling and then run.
    Tricks & Traps
    Turanil Don’t pull the lone lever in the empty room.
    Extempus If it looks and/or sounds like a damsel in distress (especially out in the middle of nowhere), it’s almost certainly a trap.
    shadowheart469 Just because your thief doesn’t find a trap doesn’t mean there isn’t a trap.
    shadowheart469 Think before you leap. Seriously … the best way over a pit trap is rarely just jumping across it.
    Gradek Always remain 21 feet away from the thief or anyone opening a door/chest.
    shadowheart469 Don’t stick your hand into a hole in a dungeon wall, especially if it has a mouth carved around it.
    shadowheart469 If you are confronted by an obvious trap, search long and hard for the -unobvious- trap that will really kill you.
    Sikil Checking for large scale traps every 10 ft is NOT often enough in Acererack’s abode.
    Gord Always hire a couple NPC henchmen to set off traps.
    Gord Bring a 10′ pole. (For prodding on the NPCs)
    Exploring
    Turanil Prepare for the random encounters even in the wardrobe.
    Dragondaddy Spike every door open that you open, and spike all the doors shut that you can’t open.
    Dragondaddy Not every underground river leads to an underground lake. Most often they just lead to more underground river without any air pockets.
    Dragondaddy Climbing gear is always good, especially rope, pitons, spikes, and a climbing hammer.
    Dragondaddy If you insist on freeclimbing, at least tie off to members of the company that aren’t freeclimbing.
    Dragondaddy The bridge is as rickety as they come, you are better off lassoing or grappling something a bit more solid on the far side, and rappelling across.
    Dragondaddy If there are signs of dragons, you are best off getting out right about now.
    shadowheart469 If you are lost in a confusing maze of tunnels, beware of minotaurs.
    Distorted Humor Don’t split up the party!
    Celendril Truebow LOOK UP!
    winemaker81 if you can’t see the ceiling there’s something hungry and/or nasty up there.
    winemaker81 if the ceiling is breathing make sure you’re carrying a pole arm, point up!
    winemaker81 Don’t spend so much time looking up that you don’t see the pit.
    winemaker81 Never let the heaviest character go first, especially if you’re roped to him for his safety.
    winemaker81 Keep a knife handy in case you need to cut the rope.
    JDJarvis Leave alarms behind yourself. Cups and bottles ready to fall perched on door tops and handles so you know when things are moving on your backtrail.
    Premier There’s no such thing as “useless” decoration/furniture. They can be used as barricades, stepping stones, weights, rope anchors and a hundred other helpful things.
    shadowheart469 If the bridge/ledge doesn’t look strong enough to support your weight, it probably can’t.
    shadowheart469 If an archway, metal or not, contains swirling, colourful gas or mist, it’s probably a safe bet that stepping through it is a fairly bad idea.
    winemaker81 Send the new guy/gal in first …
    Stik When you’ve used up two-thirds of your consumables (spells, ammunition, potions, torches, hit points) it’s time to turn back.
    Stik If you leave something behind, it will not be there when you get back. If it is there when you get back, check it for traps.
    adriapaladin Not all extra-dimensional spaces have air in them.
    adriapaladin To survive a high-level dungeon, use the phrase “bass ackwards”. Most of the traps are meant to keep people out, not in, so starting at level 10 and going up is a good idea. Not to mention that the boss doesn’t get to coordinate an attack against you.
    Generally Good Ideas
    Celendril Truebow Combat is noisy. Noise attracts things. After an encounter is not down time, it is full frickin’ red alert Defcon 6,000,000!
    garhkal Always remain 21 feet from any mages in the party who love fireballs..
    adidamps2 Remember when handling the Holy Hand Grenade to count to 3 and only 3…not 1 or 2 or 4 but 3.
    garhkal Don’t stand next to anyone wearing a red shirt!
    Distorted Humor There are some creatures, such as Ghasts and Ghouls, which are a walking TPK if you do not do the right thing, there are other creatures such as a Dragon that can be a TPK if you do the wrong thing
    Sikil Do not urinate into an open portal while screaming “Take this Asmodeous!” He won’t see the humor, but he WILL hear his name! (Kids do the goofiest stuff)
    adidamps2 Shoot 1st, ask questions later…this is especially true when accompanied by a high level cleric, where speak w/dead and resurrection are useful.
    Celendril Truebow Don’t waste your spells. I’ve seen CLW used on a 2 HP Giant Rat bite!
    Stik Stealth and trickery will get you far.
    Stik When all else fails, try “The Big Bluff”
    adriapaladin Don’t use unbinding on a highly-contigencied item, especially if your DM has the Great Netbook of Spells, without lots of protection.
    adriapaladin Always carry 2 teleports. Reduction, wraithform, gaseous form, and polymorph are very useful as well.
    adriapaladin Think way outside the box. If the DM gives you a “HUH?” look, you’re on the right track.
    Milo Attack foes from a distance whenever possible.
    Turanil Don’t leave your mounts alone at the dungeon’s entrance.
    Turanil Don’t leave your henchmen alone at the dungeon’s entrance.
    Wilderness, Traveling
    Milo Always look for tracks, and try to date them as best you can. Also look good to possibly determine how many.
    Milo Do not travel in open terrain whenever possible. Use concealment.
    Milo Get some idea of what lairs and travels in the area you are going to.
    Milo Hire a guide or have a scout in the party, a ranger will do the trick.
    Telemachus Do not leave the path!
    Milo There is safety in numbers, never go alone.
    Telemachus Trust the instincts of the mule.
    TheMorseMoose Travel in single file to conceal your numbers.
    Grypharius It would be wise if you traveled in the company of a druid, ranger, or elf.
    Grypharius Elves and halfling surprise others on 1-4 when 90′ ahead of friends
    Sikil Listen for a lack of sound. If there are no birds chirping, no crickets singing — then you’re in BIG trouble.
    Grypharius Remember, gnomes can speak to all burrowing critters. Hey, gather your Intel wherever you can.
    Grypharius MU’s with familiars might have them question other critters.
    Turanil That crow perched on the tree’s branch, which looks at you… Beware!
    Wilderness, Camping
    TheMorseMoose Post sentries at night.
    JerryB Always post guards in pairs.
    Telemachus Careful where you get that firewood!
    TheMorseMoose Have at least one PC who can hunt and trap, or be prepared to eat a lot of dog biscuits and bully beef.
    TheMorseMoose Always select a defensible spot when selecting a campsite.
    TheMorseMoose In northern climes: Watch out where the huskies go, and don’t you eat that yellow snow!
    Bochi Build a wall. Surround it with a ditch.
    Sikil The deep dark lake is NOT part of our National Parks Program. You WILL meet a hydra, especially if skinny-dipping.
    Sikil Check for poison oak, poison ivy, poison sumac, and carnivorous plants before making a “pit stop” behind the tree.
    serleran Always have a shovel. You might need to bury your companions. Or, you might need to whack some zombie upside the head. Maybe in that order.
    tallgeese Don’t get separated from your gear. Inclement weather has a way of making adventures not fun if you left your stuff sitting on the other side of the mountain.
    Game Mechanics
    Distorted Humor if you come to the game session and you see the DM pull out a module that has S1 in the corner, remember the old Roman slogan. “Those Who Are About To Die Salute You”
    shadowheart469 If it seems too good to be true, prepare to make a difficult saving throw.
    Stik If the DM describes it in detail, it is dangerous.
    shadowheart469 If the adventure has been to easy up til now, it’s not.
    Celendril Truebow Acquire some knowledge of Small Unit Tactics. I see Military booklets about this at bookstores all the time. I don’t mean be a total geek and take the game too seriously, but an understanding of “Tactical Retreat”, “Evasive Action”, “Shoot and Scoot”, and Ambushes is not a bad idea.
    Celendril Truebow Know your character! All your bonuses, abilities, Proficiencies and don’t forget to use your magical items.
    Food
    The Icemaiden Never eat, lick or prod with your finger anything that looks like Jello
    The Icemaiden Ditto for puddings …
    adidamps2 Cast Iron skillets can double as clubs
    winemaker81 Cast iron skillet makes it simple to cook whatever was just killed.
    Sikil Elf pudding is NOT pudding made by elves, but rather made OF elves. Yuccckkkk!
    T. Foster Never eat anything in the dungeon you didn’t bring in with you
    oralpain You don’t need rations if your opponents are edible. Carry more weapons instead.
    winemaker81 Subscribe to the Monster Recipe of the Week early to build a collection of recipes before the adventure.
    DM Aggravation
    Frank Mentzer Bring extra hammers & chisels for barbaric purposes. Deface/destroy anything that seems valuable and can’t be easily carried.
    Frank Mentzer Make the adventure come to you. Find a good defensible room and just camp out. Keep it up for a couple of weeks or until the DM quits in disgust.
    Frank Mentzer Carry lots of colored chalk. Write a cryptic symbol on the wall of every room. (Claim that it’s merely ‘in case of teleporters.’) Revisit places just to ask what’s on the wall. (Combine with pouring water in specific parts of some rooms.)
    Frank Mentzer Search everything, even insects. Dissect monsters, keeping bits & pieces to attempt to resell later. If it’s mammalian, try for resellable steaks (stowed in large sacks).
    Frank Mentzer Try to invent things. Gunpowder, waterproofing, and steam engines are good for starters. Find out whether somebody makes clocks.
    Frank Mentzer Set up a ‘guard post’. Charge tolls of passers-by, human or not.
    Frank Mentzer Seek places to defecate. Use them every 4 hours. Map them out.
    Frank Mentzer Break the hinges on all the doors (or tap out the hinge pins). Lean the doors against nearby walls. Try to use them as “full-party shields”. Move them around and ask the DM regularly where they are.
    Frank Mentzer Start a metal collection, removing locks, hasps, and other hardware. Try to resell them in town; any kind of metal should be valuable. Consider hiring flunkies to staff a scrap metal business.
    Frank Mentzer When you get back, offer to sell Rumors & Information to NPC adventurers (after all, they have the cash). Fabricate all of it; get whatever you can. If you ever see ’em again, act happy and ask if they succeeded.
    DM Survival
    phantasm72 For the sake of your sanity, don’t have Frank as a player

    This page last updated: 07 May 2009

  • Marissa, Trajan, and Etjar – Spore Spitter

    This was another of my brother’s monsters from our first campaigns. I re-created it from memory and updated it according to my current prejudices.

    The Spore Spitter was published in & Magazine, Issue 8, and this short fiction was included in the article. The Spore Spitter description is here.

     


     

    The woman found her elderly husband where she expected to find him, sitting in front of the tavern with a wine mug in hand, surrounded by listeners as he told stories. Foremost among the listeners sat their grandson Jake, his best friend David, and their tutor Bisonbit. At 16 the older boy tried to project an air of aloofness but was failing miserably. Leaning forward with a rapt expression on his face, he was as intent on the tale as the others.

    She could hear Hal snoring inside the tavern. Appearing a bit older, less lucky, and less wise than Trajan, that ex-adventurer was missing a few body parts and told stories in exchange for ale, at least until he passed out on a table. Then Trajan took over. He accepted a single mug of wine and regaled listeners with a tale or two. Maybe she was partial, but she thought her husband’s tales were better, told less emphatically and at a lower volume. Also, without ale sprayed on people who sat too close.

    Today there were a few strange faces, but many familiar ones, including a short, stout Sathean caravan guard. They saw him on a regular basis. Of Sathean heritage herself, this man was shorter than most and stouter than most, but not one for anyone with sense to tangle with. That described a lot of Satheans.

    The Sathean asked the old man, “What is the strangest beast you’ve ever fought?”

    Taking a sip of wine Trajan ruminated for a minute. “The strangest ‘beast’ I’ve ever fought wasn’t a beast.” Looking at his audience’s confusion he repeated, “The strangest beast I ever fought wasn’t a beast ” He took another slow sip of wine. “It was a plant.”


    Trajan and Etjar tramped down an old animal trail. From the look it hadn’t been used in a year or two, not long enough for the forest to reclaim it. Like most animal trails it meandered, following the terrain. Both men were young, tall, and fit. The route rambled up and down the rolling ridges but was not difficult walking. Behind them they could hear a woman swearing, then a yelled, “Wait!”

    Trajan continued walking but Etjar stopped. Realizing his friend had stopped Trajan turned and walked back to his friend. Etjar shook his head. “You really like irritating her, don’t you?”

    Laughing Trajan replied, “It’s something to do.”

    “Someday you’re going to wish you got along with her better.”

    “You getting sweet on her?”

    Etjar looked back to where the woman and a shorter companion were just coming into sight over the last rise. “She’s ok looking and good in a fight, but I can’t see myself kissing her.” Slyly looking back at Trajan, he said, “I would never get in your way.”

    “ME? You have GOT to be joking!”

    “There’s a fine line between hate and love, my friend. The way you treat each other it must be love!”

    Trajan looked darkly at his friend, spit, and they waited in silence while the two companions stumbled the final distance. As they reached them the Kerrean turned to continue walking.

    “Wait, you long legged oaf” The woman was easily a foot shorter than the tall, spare Kerrean. Typical for a Sathean she was barely above 5 feet tall and her stride shorter than his. Having bronze skin and broad features, she wasn’t exactly attractive by Kerrean standards. Both men had lighter skin and hair, a marked difference from the short, dark Satheans.

    “Yes, please wait!” the fourth companion begged. A gnome just over 4 feet tall, he had a shorter stride than the woman. He was strong for his size, not like a dwarf but he also didn’t have a dwarf’s impossible build with extra wide shoulders and oddly narrow waist. Gnomes sort of resembled a cross between dwarves and humans, although shorter than either.

    His panting may have been exaggerated, but Trajan stopped anyway. The gnome was a good companion and Trajan had already gotten a rise out of Marissa. For this minute at least. “How much farther to the temple?”

    Etjar looked at the mid-day sun. “Another 3 hours.”

    Trajan looked archly at Marissa and added, “If we keep walking.”

    The dark woman’s face grew darker and if looks could kill Trajan would be a puddle. Etjar cut in quickly, not wishing to listen to more of their wrangling. “There’s no rush. We’ll have a couple of hours of daylight to look the temple over, and we will start your search at first light.”

    The gnome was a scholar who paid the trio to escort him to a long-abandoned temple of Hate, a demi-god of abuse and suffering. Like most such gods Hate had few followers and its temples, once discovered, got sacked.

    Another hour saw the group topping yet another ridge. Below ran a small river that fed an equally small lake. Or maybe it was a large pond. “We’ll have to find a place to ford the river.” After the slower members of the band caught up they started down into the valley.

    They were almost at the river when Etjar stopped, holding his right hand up with the fist clenched, signaling a stop. Trajan and Marissa immediately scanned around them – when something triggered Etjar’s phenomenal senses and instincts it meant danger. Etjar peered around, listening intently. His eyes and mouth opened wide in shock and he like dropped a rock. A brown/black ball huffed through the space his head had just occupied and slammed into a nearby tree with a dull thump. It hit hard enough to partially crush itself and then slowly peeled off the bark and fell limply to the ground, oozing thick, white juices.

    “WHAT IS THAT?” Petteri shrieked!

    Yanking his sword from its sheath on his back Trajan tore his eyes from the crushed shape and made a good imitation of someone trying to look in every direction at once. A slight fluttering sound warned him and he lashed out with his hand-and-a-half bastard sword. Trajan’s slash bisected one of the flying things just before it hit Petteri, spraying him with white juices and causing the pieces to flash past him on either side. But the gnome never saw the thing, just the flashing sword which seemed aimed at his head. He shrieked again and threw himself away from the blade. Babbling, he scrambled frantically away from the big human.

    Marissa hissed out words that Trajan heard, couldn’t understand, and immediately forgot – magic words. Bright green spikes of energy flew from her right hand. Two punctured another of the flying blobs and the third punctured another, causing both to slam into the ground explosively with a spray of white juice.

    Trajan realized that Etjar was standing near him, long sword in hand and shield at the ready. Etjar was like that, moving so quickly that no one saw him move. Trajan felt confident now that his friend was ready to fight.

    Petteri was hiding under a bush, still unaware of how close he had been to being brained by the flying blob. Ignoring him, Marissa moved quickly to the big men, forming a triangle with each facing out, scanning their part of forest.

    “What is that thing?” Etjar whispered, his voice low.

    Marissa glanced down at the pieces of the one Trajan has slashed him half. “It looks like an apple inside, although it looks softer, more like a peach.” Sounding more curious than afraid she continued, ” I have no idea what it is.”

    With whooshing all around them, wave after wave of the things attacked. They had no self-preservation, blindly flying into the blades. Each dropped from minor wounds. After a couple more spells Marissa was panting – spell casting took a lot of the wizard’s energy and rapid casting depleted her quickly. She pulled daggers from her belt to slash and stab at her attackers. This worked for another minute until one flew between Etjar and Trajan to slam across the top of her shoulder, pitching her onto her face.

    Trajan had eyes on the back of his head. Yelling incoherently, he slashed his latest attacker in half, spun and straddled her prone body, hacking several things from the air in succession.

    The attack grew more intense and ended suddenly, with no warning. Abruptly no more things few through the air, they just lay splattered all over the leaves on the ground. Trajan looked everywhere for more.

    “Get off me you big oaf!” Marissa swore. Moving carefully Trajan stepped to one side, then reached down with a juice smeared hand to help her up. Marissa got to her knees and grudgingly accepted the proffered hand. Wiping ineffectually at her smeared clothing she peered around. Silence filled the air. Meeting his gaze she saw a different look there, totally different from the amused, condescending air he normally directed at her. For the life of her she had no idea what it meant. They stared into each other’s eyes for a pregnant minute.

    Etjar looked at Trajan with amusement, as the big man stood in unusual silence – few were the times that pair didn’t belittle or curse at each other. Then the moment broke, and the pair looked quickly away from each other. All three started scanning for more threats.

    Petteri scrambled out from beneath his bush, peering around fearfully. Dozens of the things lay around, all unmoving. Mastering his fear he poked one with a stick. When it didn’t move he prodded it again, and finally examined it more closely. “This isn’t an animal”, he commented in amazement. “It seems to be a plant.”

    His fear washed away in a wave of scholarly interest. He acted more like a small child, totally absorbed by his interest in the thing, a typical thing with gnomes. Trajan wondered how their race managed to survive. “Yes, this resembles a seed pod although it has some characteristics of the spores of a giant fungi as well.” He turned it over and pointed to a series of small regularly spaced holes all over the bottom and sides of the thing. “This must be how it flies! It jets air out through these holes! But how does it do that?” he trailed off in wonderment.

    “Bag a couple of them,” Etjar commanded. “We should leave here in case there are more.” Choosing the two least damaged ones Petteri pulled an empty sack from his pack, put them in it, and tied it to the back of his pack.

    Instead of their former pairs, they now moved in single file, weapons ready. Trajan led with the gnome behind him, the woman next (still picking at her smeared clothes), and finally Etjar. Moving cautiously, they reached the bank of the small river. It was about 40 feet across but they couldn’t tell the depth. “Let’s move upstream to look for a ford.”

    The gnome started to follow Trajan but piled into him as the big man suddenly stopped. Starting to berate the man’s clumsiness he stopped when he saw what had stopped the human.

    Less than 40 feet away stood what looked, at first glance, like a green tree stump standing 10 feet tall and 3 feet in diameter. It was surrounded by a cloud of the flying black/brown things, all hovering in place with an air of menace. Marissa gasped. Swords raised in defense. The tense atmosphere could be cut with a knife.

    Trajan felt Marissa invoking a gentle spell, one that whispered out gently. Although he had no idea what the spell was, he could feel a sense of communion as it flowed past him. Trajan shivered. Magic spooked him.

    Glancing at the small woman he saw her intense concentration, her head moving in small nods. She scowled a bit and then relaxed, a small smile forming. Another tense minute passed and another. Finally the thing moved slowly away from the river on what appeared to be thick roots, its cloud of protectors moving with it. After it moved 50 feet Marissa said, “Let’s go, it’s letting us pass without a fight. Best we move quickly.”

    As they edged past it Etjar asked, “Where are we going?”

    “If I understood correctly there is a narrows up a ways with a tree fallen across it. We can cross there.”

    “You talked to it?” Trajan wondered.

    “I tried a spell normally used to talk to animals. There’s a different spell for talking to plants, but I don’t know it. That thing is more plant than animal, but the spell worked.” She frowned. “Not well, but well enough.”

    The gnome butted in, “It may because of the creature’s intelligence. In that it may be closer to animal than plant.”

    “Maybe so.” She considered it for a minute. “Probably so. But it agreed to let us pass as we are not contesting its territory and just passing through.” She paused again. “Killing a lot of its spores probably helped. I think it kills animals and lets them rot, and roots on the spot. We proved strong enough that it felt it better to let us go.”

    “Doesn’t matter why, let’s not come back this way.”


    “We skirted that part of the valley on the way back. A year later Petteri hired us again to escort him back to the temple. That time there was a band of goblins in the valley. Apparently, they thought the spore spitter was a god and made sacrifices to it.”

    “Really?” the bulky Sathean asked. He scowled, “Are you sure? Even goblins aren’t that stupid.”

    The old man shrugged his shoulders. “Well, that’s what they said. It defended the valley and they composted their leftovers for it. Maybe even kill travelers for their compost pile.” He sipped his wine. “Funny that it remembered us, told the goblins to let us pass.” Trajan laughed. “I guess we were memorable.”

    Another sip of wine and he continued. “A couple of years later year Marissa and I passed through and the goblins and ‘spitter were gone, no idea if they just left or what. That was months after Etjar was killed.”

    The old man sighed and his eyes watered. The loss of his dear friend hurt deeply even after so many years. He swallowed the last of his wine.

    The Sathean asked, “Seems like a lot of people who traveled with you died. What happened to the wizard woman?”

    Trajan started to answer but his wife cut him off. “She suffered worst of all!” The look she gave the guard was dark indeed. “Far, far worse!” she stated emphatically. Leaning over she kissed her husband hard on the mouth. “He married her, settled down, and raised a family.”

    She turned to the boys. “David.” The boy looked at the woman, resentment on his face – he clearly wanted to listen to more stories. “Time for your lessons.”

    The scowl instantly changed to glee as he hopped up and raced to his favorite teacher.

  • Marissa, Trajan, and Etjar – Anyuri

    I’m not sure what inspired creating the Anyuri, but it’s a great foil for lower level parties in a high magic campaign.

     


     

    Trajan sat in Jannalanga’s tavern in Kerr with his wife, both sipping mulled wine from heavy mugs that preserved the heat. Hal had finished a fantastic tale of how he survived an encounter with a pack of shape shifting beasts, creatures that resembled smoky wolves whose outlines shifted. Normal weapons wouldn’t hurt them.

    Hal regaled his listeners with a fascinating and horrifying tale of how his company of twenty hardened veterans had been taken and eaten, one by one, only their stripped skeletons being found. Hal had been the sole survivor, escaping by cunning and skill.

    Of course, at this point in the telling of the tale the one-armed man was drunk enough that the details of his cunning and skill were hard to understand, and no one wanted to get close enough because the more he drank, the more he spit.

    People who had never been outside of Kerr found the story exciting … but the spit bath that accompanied it dampened their interest. His audience thinned and disappeared.

    Finally, Jannalanga escorted Hal outside to the hut where animals were dressed after slaughter. Hopefully he’d manage to hit the refuse bin if he spewed up his ale and lunch. Better there than in the tavern.

    Trajan felt every one of his eighty-five years. They had mostly been good years, but the cold weather reminded him just how many years he had survived. He slid his arm around the woman who had been his close companion for most of those years.

    Jake and David plopped down on either side of them, followed more leisurely by Bisonbit who sat across from them. Although only Jake was their grandchild, Marissa slid an arm around David and smiled broadly at Bisonbit. She felt a moment of guilt that she felt much closer to a boy and young man who were no blood relation – far closer than she felt for her son and four daughters, or her other grandchildren. Her youngest grandchild, his best friend, and their tutor were her most beloved. She glanced sideways at her husband; his expression proclaimed he felt the same way.

    David leaned forward and looked around Marissa at Trajan and stated, “Hal never saw anything like what he said. He probably had a nightmare after hearing you tell your story about anyuri.”

    Trajan laughed, replying, “Probably so.”

    An equally elderly man sat down across the table from the old couple, himself holding a mug of mulled wine. He nodded at them, saying their names in greeting, “Marissa, Trajan.”

    Out of the corner of his eye Trajan saw his wife of fifty-five years scrunch up her nose. She didn’t know him, either. “Do we know you?”

    “Once. A long time ago.” The man had an open smile that lit his face up like a bon fire, spreading light and warmth.

    “Billi?”

    The man laughed loudly, clearly pleased he had been recognized. “Even with this face, so different from the last time we saw each other, I hoped my old friend would not forget me!”

    “Not that I feel badly about it, but how are you alive?” Trajan asked, his tone incredulous.

    The visitor went somber. “THAT is a tale worth telling, unlike the silly fantasy told by that old jackass,” he said, nodding towards the side door out which the proprietor had escorted Hal. “If you have the time I’ll tell it.”


    Etjar led the group along an animal trail. Sometime in the distant past it had been a road, but nature always wins in the end, taking back anything men create – after they stopped tending it. The trail was too straight to be a natural animal trail, as animals tended to meander. Plus, there were spots that didn’t seem natural, like a hill had been cut down or gully filled – in the distant past.

    The forest was old growth hard woods. Viewing distances were generally good, although spots where large trees had died sprung up with new contestants for sunlight. On the cusp of a hillock the soldier stopped to rest and let the group catch up.

    His and Trajan’s childhood friend Billi had talked them into hiring on with an expedition to the east side of the Grav-Lach Mountains, more than a hundred miles east of Kieldar. An old monastery had been abandoned more than fifty years before in this wild area, and it was reputed the treasury had been left behind.

    It was also reputed that the most of the monastery’s complement had been killed by shadowy beasts of smoke, and the few survivors had fled willy-nilly to preserve their own lives. Marissa had searched for records at the Grand College of Kerr and had discovered that there had been a monastery, a disaster struck it, and only three survivors made it back to Kieldar. All three were permanently addled by their experience and while all told similar tales, they were discounted as madness. The details of their stories were not recorded.

    A merchant that Billi had worked for the past six years, Londo Severino, had financed the expedition. Marissa had also checked on his background – in his early fifties, he had inherited a moderately successful merchant business from an uncle and had managed to maintain the business for the past twenty-odd years. Billi had recently married Severino’s daughter Julia and they seemed destined to eventually inherit the business.

    Unfortunately, there were rumors that recent business decisions had been bad ones and the merchant needed an influx of cash.

    The trio had discussed the matter and decided to accept the commission … with the proviso that their fee was paid half up front, and the other half reserved at a major lending house in Kerr. Following a near disastrous commission with a professor that resulted in an encounter with an oculus despot, the trio had little trust for employers.

    During that discussion Julia had shown her temper, and Billi had shown that he had not changed – as a child and a teen, he was always one to talk people down from overwhelming emotion. The woman thought the fee far too high, but her husband echoed Marissa’s point that Kieldar was five hundred miles north of Kerr, the path to the monastery was only listed on maps more than a century old, and the dangers of the last leg were completely unknown.

    Other expeditions had set out on this same mission. None had returned.

    This added to the legend, scaring some off while encouraging the imaginations of others.

    Billi also pointed out that expeditions not returning could be a result of many reasons, none of which had anything to do with smoky monsters.

    Billi, always the moderator.

    Etjar had heard the tales but discounted them. If there was a treasury left behind it was either filled with junk or long looted. The story of the monks being slaughtered could be anything. It might be sheer fantasy, or maybe bandits or goblinoids had attacked. Marissa and Trajan agreed that they’d probably get paid for escort service, a bit of searching, and then more escort service. But they set their fee high enough to cover the possibility that something nasty would be encountered some time during the trip.

    In the end an agreement was reached, Severino was satisfied, and Julia kept silent but obviously thought the trio demanded too much. She ignored them as much as she could, and tended to reply only in monosyllables, snorting when Billi, Etjar, and Trajan reminisced about their childhood in Kerr.

    Etjar expected Marissa to be uninterested in their boyhood memories, but Billi kept her engaged, laughing at things both Etjar and Trajan had done, and poking fun at himself as well. Etjar expected the woman to harp too much on things Trajan had done … those two had a hard time holding a civil conversation. But she reigned herself in. Ahh … Billi the moderator.

    Looking back as the group straggled together, Etjar made a mental count. Five porters, Severino, Julia, and Billi, then six more porters. He shifted his shoulders. The chainmail armor he and Trajan wore was heavy, but it was worth the cost, both in money and discomfort. They had worn armor for years and were used to the weight, and both recognized that not having an arrow or blade buried in one’s gut was a good thing. Nay, a great thing!

    In contrast Billi wore boiled leather armor. It didn’t provide the protection that chainmail did, but it was a lot lighter and didn’t chafe as much. Of course, while Billi had seen action in years of militia service and caravan guarding, it was far less than what Trajan and Etjar had experienced. He valued the heavy armor less. Severino, Julia, and the porters wore no armor. So far it had worked out for them.

    The bandits they had encountered several days before had inflicted no harm, thanks to Trajan spotting them before the bandits saw them, and Marissa invoking a Fireball on them, killing half their troupe and sending the survivors fleeing in panic. Etjar and Trajan had each dropped a man at long range with arrows, ensuring the survivors didn’t feel safe even at a distance.

    Now the group approached their destination. Marissa and Trajan guarded their back – sniping at each other while watching in all directions. Etjar sighed. They did their jobs well and if danger appeared, they protected each other fiercely. But the pair just couldn’t have a normal conversation without picking at each other.

    Except if Julia was present. The abrasive woman represented a danger of sorts, so the duo closed rank against her. “I finally found one of Julia’s good points,” Etjar laughed to himself. Billi was deliriously in love, so he didn’t seem to recognize her nature, and her father catered too much to her. The porters all avoided her, although they were beneath her notice, so that wasn’t difficult.

    “We should start looking for a place to camp for the night.”

    Severino asked, “How far do you think we are from the monastery?”

    Etjar replied, “If the map is accurate, less than five miles.”

    “Why stop now?” Julia grated. “Why can’t we camp at the monastery itself?”

    “Because we won’t get there before it’s too dark to setup camp, and because we don’t go into any unknown place except in full daylight,” Marissa retorted, sounding like she considered the other woman an idiot. Which was probably true.

    Etjar quickly cut off Julia’s heated reply. Marissa could be short tempered with people besides Trajan, but normally reigned herself in with paying customers. But a month-and-a-half of traveling with the younger woman had eroded her patience along with her good sense. “We have no idea what condition the monastery is in, if it’s even there. Best to setup a camp on our own terms and investigate in the clear light of morning. The buildings may be in bad shape, no place to go in the dark.”

    “I’m paying for your expertise. It would be bad business to ignore qualified advice,” Severino cut in. He may dote on his only child, but he wasn’t completely oblivious to her charms – or lack thereof. He was also wiser than he sometimes appeared – by phrasing his reply in business terms, he had eliminated a hasty retort from his child.

    The porters all nodded at the result of the discussion. The men were porters, not fighters. Not that they couldn’t handle themselves in a rough-n-tumble, and all probably knew how to use the heavy knives they carried. But they weren’t professional fighters like Etjar, Trajan, and Billi. Or Marissa for that matter – she wasn’t a swordswoman, but she knew well how to use the staff she carried and was deceptively good with a dagger.

    Nearly two miles farther on they came upon a clearing on high ground. It didn’t offer natural protection, but the view in all directions was good. Etjar didn’t mention that in the dark the view wouldn’t be good, but Marissa could plant a Light spell out a ways to illuminate their targets, and the openings between the large trees made arrow fire useful. He and Trajan were good bowmen, and Billi had been pretty good when they served in the Kerrean militia together.

    The porters needed no direction in setting up camp. While Marissa, Trajan, Etjar, and Billi kept watch and Severino and Julia “supervised”, the men quickly dug a fire pit, found stones to edge the pit and control the fire, and started a fire. Others hunted the area for anything that resembled dry firewood, fallen branches and the like, collecting a good-sized pile.

    Severino laid his pad near the fire and the porters arranged it around him. Pecking order had senior men closer to the fire.

    Marissa, Trajan, and Etjar setup their camp away from the fire, where the light wouldn’t fully blind them. They lacked the warmth of the fire but carried heavier blankets to compensate for no fire. Julia had argued against it early on, but Billi setup with the trio. Given the choice of sleeping alone or with her husband, she gave in. After six weeks of travel she no longer grumbled about it.

    Although she did make it a point to make noises that informed the trio of what she and her husband did under the blankets. Etjar was more-or-less inured to her shenanigans by now, so he ignored it. He thought Trajan ignored it as well, but Marissa was continuously irritated by the younger woman.

    The porters milled around, finalizing their camp as the sun disappeared and blackness replaced it. Etjar was doing a final count when Trajan and Marissa spoke at the same time, “Two are missing.”

    Count on them to be in step with each other,” he thought as he recounted. “Yup, two men missing.”

    “Londo!” As the merchant turned to face him Etjar continued, “Are two men still looking for firewood? We have enough.” The soldier didn’t want to cause unnecessary panic so he phrased his question as innocuously as he could.

    The tradesman and Billi both counted. “Where are Josh and Able?” Londo asked at large.

    The porters looked around at each other, doing their own count. One, a senior porter, shook his head negatively. “They went out looking for firewood, same as everyone.” Turning outward from the fire he shouted, “Josh! Able! Where are you? Sound off!”

    The silence of the mountain was the only reply, small insects making cheeping noises the only break in the silence. The porter opened his mouth to shout again. Trajan darted forward and muffled him, a gloved hand on the back of his head and the other over his mouth. “No need to yell again. What we need is silence to hear them.” He spoke loudly enough that all could hear. “Do you understand?”

    At the man’s frightened nod Trajan released him. The porter was the same size and build as Trajan, over six feet tall and well-muscled … but the soldier moved like a soldier and the porter understood the difference between their respective experiences. The soldier returned to his friends.

    “Why-” Julia retorted loudly. Her own husband clamped a hand over her mouth, his genial expression replaced by a harsh firmness that looked wrong on his normally amiable face. He whispered something in her ear. She shook her head negatively tried to pull away. He shook her gently, considering that he was holding her head, and whispered again, something harsh. At last, she nodded affirmatively, and he released her. She was unhappy with his treatment of her but complied with whatever he ordered. She had enough good sense to listen to her husband, although the look on her face said she’d make him suffer later.

    Etjar issued crisp orders. “We don’t know anything is wrong. Everyone go to your bedroll and sit. Silently. We will find Josh and Able but need to be able to hear them.” He didn’t ask if they understood; his tone demanded obedience.

    Billi gently pushed his wife towards her father. “Stay with your father,” he said softly. “We will handle this.” He looked meaningfully at her. “I need you to be safe.” He noticed that neither Etjar nor Trajan had drawn weapons, so he didn’t draw his either, but had his hand on the hilt.

    He turned to the mercenary trio. “Any ideas where Josh and Able are?” he asked softly, too softly to be heard by his father-in-law, wife, or the porters.

    The three knew enough to not give a visible sign; they needed to avoid a panic. “No idea,” they echoed.

    Marissa explained further, “Things are not looking good. Most tales are just that, but this one is looking ugly.” She grunted in unison with Etjar and Trajan. “We need to assume the worst. The best case is that we’re wrong.”

    “What do we do?”

    Trajan spoke first, “Act like we are in control and know what we are doing. It will give the others confidence.” He shrugged slightly. “It’s no different from being a sergeant in the militia.”

    “Do we have any idea what we are doing?”

    “No. But that won’t stop us.” Trajan’s tone was light but the glint in his eyes said he fully meant what he said.

    “I missed you two. You’re scarier now than when we were kids.” Billi looked at Marissa. “How long have you and Trajan been together?”

    Her instant wrath backed him up two steps. “We ARE NOT a couple!” she hissed.

    “Sorry, I just assumed-”

    Billi looked at Trajan’s now stormy face, then at Etjar, who sported a sardonic grin. Seeing Etjar almost imperceptibly shake his head no, he added, “I won’t make that mistake again.”

    Etjar noted that Londo and the porters watched them with concerned expressions on their faces. They had no idea why Marissa and Trajan were angry – even flamingly mad, as Marissa had not raised her voice. He took charge to set their fears at ease. “There’s no good reason to go out searching for the missing men in the dark. If they are hiding, or fell down a bank without us hearing them, we’re not likely to find them stumbling around in the dark. They’ll be found at dawn, if they don’t stumble in sooner.” To Billi he said, “I’m going to have an unhappy conversation with that pair when they give up on their joke and stumble into camp.”

    Billi looked puzzled, then he understood what Etjar was doing, and nodded his agreement. Etjar continued softly, “If something got them? That gives us even less reason to stumble around in the dark, and more reason to stay here and protect the ones we know are alive.”

    Etjar realized he had accomplished his second goal, distracting Marissa and Trajan from reacting to Billi’s words about them being a couple. They were both looking past Etjar, into the dark, focusing on potential danger and not making a newbie’s mistake of watching the person talking. About that time Billi realized he was looking at Etjar and recalled his militia lessons. His gaze moved off into the darkness, scanning vainly for movement.

    Etjar dropped his voice to a lower whisper. “Marissa, do you need to see the target for a Light spell? Can you set it to happen maybe a hundred feet out?”

    She frowned. “I can’t send it through a barrier, like a stone or wooden wall, but here in the forest I can set it at any point within range.” She grimaced. “The version I can cast has a short range, fifty maybe sixty feet.”

    Trajan shrugged lightly. “Then that will have to be far enough.” Glancing briefly had his right-side partner he asked, “What are you thinking?”

    “We listen carefully and if Marissa hears anything, put a light source about twenty feet in the air, as far out as she can.”

    Billi asked, “What will that do?”

    “Hopefully light up anything out there.” Glancing as Marissa he asked, “That spell lasts a long time, doesn’t it?”

    “About an hour and a half.” She scanned the darkness. “I know the better spell that lasts for years and has longer range, but it takes longer to invoke, and it takes a lot more energy.” Spells were grouped in ranks, according to the amount of energy the caster had to put into casting. The amount of personal energy for casting was a limiting factor for lesser spell casters, differentiating them from full wizards. Marissa was more than halfway to being a full wizard, but understood her own limitations. “I haven’t studied it recently, so I can’t cast it now, too many other useful spells to use in its place.”

    Trajan’s voice had a hard edge to it. “It would have helped now.”

    She retorted, “The Fireball I roasted those bandits with was a lot better than any type of light. You weren’t arguing then!”

    Etjar cut them off. “If there’s something bad out there, a Fireball might do us far better. We have what we have.”

    Trajan’s reply was cut off when a hoarse growl sounded behind them. Fast as they were, by the time they turned a porter was down, blood spurting from a ripped arm. A black shape that suggested a huge, bulky dog darted into the night.

    The other porters stood frozen as the man’s arm continued spurting. Julia snarled orders that were ignored. When no one moved she pushed through the kneeling men and clamped her hands on the gaping wound, trapping the spurting blood. She snarled at the nearest man, who shook himself into action and ripped the sleeve off his shirt. Moving forward he worked with her to bind the wound.

    Another growl sounded the warning as a black shape charged into the light, bowling over the man farthest from the fire. It savaged him in passing, then mauled another man before disappearing into the darkness.

    The first man wasn’t dead yet, but there was no healing his gaping throat. The second man was luckier, his shoulder ripped and bleeding, but not an instantly fatal wound. The beast had gone for his neck and missed.

    All the porters struggled to their feet, some drawing fighting daggers. The nerve of three broke and they ran into the darkness, shrieking shrill cries.

    Less than fifteen seconds later the shrill cries of panic transformed into agonizing howls of pain.

    “HOLD YOUR PLACE!” Julia took charge of the porters.

    “Marissa, put a light as far out as you can on the other side of the fire, where the things came from,” Trajan ordered. Etjar expected her to argue with his friend’s order, but that never happened when they faced danger. “Etjar, you and Billi take that side, we’ll take this one.” He gestured to a point to the right of where the light would be, but didn’t move. Marissa was casting and he turned towards the nearest darkness to protect her, watching for more attackers.

    A bright point of light appeared twenty feet in the air, maybe thirty feet on the other side of the fire. It lit an area of at least fifty feet in diameter nearly as bright as day, eclipsing the bonfire.

    The howls of the three men who ran continued on for a minute, then lessened. One of the men tapered off, dead or just incapable of crying any further.

    Trajan led the woman to their appointed guard spot. “Marissa, put another Light there,” gesturing past the area they had just vacated.

    Before she could start the spell a rustling of leaves and a trio of growls warned of the next attack. The beasts charged in from the dark, unguarded area, savaging three men before charging through the lighted area and into the darkness.

    Marissa completed the second spell, making another lit area on that side for the beasts to charge through.

    Etjar fought the urge to look back at his friends. He and Billi had their appointed areas to watch. Marissa and Trajan had theirs. Hopefully the beasts would not attack through the lighted areas.

    This is going to be a long night … or a damned short one!” he thought.

    After a few minutes he asked generally, “How are the hurt men?”

    Severino replied, apparently in control of himself, or maybe faking it amazingly well. “We have two dead, two badly hurt, and two walking wounded. Plus the three in the woods.”

    As if his words were foreshadowing, a howl of agony came from the wood. One of the men was alive, but it sounded like he was being tortured.

    The surviving porters, all full grown, hard handed men – they started crying. Broken sounds.

    The man in the woods stopped screaming. Dead or unconscious.

    Severino asked, “What are our options?” He sounded like a businessman, calmly talking about trade. His attitude might not relax his men, but it couldn’t hurt.

    Trajan answered. “We have another hour or more of Marissa’s light spells. Keep the fire burning until then and build it up before the magical light ends. We have enough wood for a good fire until dawn.”

    “Can Marissa use more light magic?”

    “Yes, but she is saving her energy for spells that kill things like this.”

    Etjar thought, “What is he doing? We don’t have enough firewood and we have no idea if Marissa’s other spells will hurt these buggers.” He heard Trajan moving away from him. Not far, but out at least a few feet. Etjar fought the urge to turn and look. “I hope he knows what he’s doing!

    Then he silently thanked Demeter for his attention being where it should be. Only a brief rustling of leaves warned the soldier before a creature was in mid-leap. The gods damned thing was fast! If his attention had wavered even a moment it would have got him.

    He side-stepped, drawing his sword and slashing in one motion through the space he had just vacated.

    In the split second he had to observe it, the creature resembled a large, bulky wolf. Instead of fur its outline resembled smoke tendrils, giving it a hazy outline. If he had been aiming at the creature he’d probably have missed, but he lashed out at the area he expected it to pass through, not the creature itself.

    His professional guess was good – he hacked the creature as it flew by him. The wound broke its momentum, so it crashed into the fire, scattering flaming embers, and catching its fur on fire. It howled its pain, an odd, broken, coughing sound unlike anything the soldier had ever heard. Scrambling to its four feet, it darted into the darkness, small patches of flame on its fur.

    The light emitted by Etjar’s enchanted blade shed more light than the fire, augmenting the light of the wizard’s spells. He noted that Billi’s longsword did not shed light. “Too much to hope he has an enchanted blade!” Magic – both spells and imbued objects – were fairly common in the world, but that didn’t mean everyone had them.

    Trajan had been talking for the benefit of the monsters. They apparently understood and coordinated attacks, one to ensure that Etjar and Billi were distracted. How Trajan knew they were intelligent eluded him, but his left-side partner was good in outguessing opponents.

    Three monsters charged Trajan and Marissa. She had enough warning – she screamed out bizarre syllables none could understand, sounds that echoed through the mind but passed without a trace. No matter now often Etjar heard spell casting, he could never remember anything of the strange words spoken.

    Four bolts of bright red force flashed from the fingers of her right hand, punching into and burning the beast that charged her. She caught it as it began the leap – the magical energy burned it and tumbled its leap. It hit the ground in front of her clumsily and rolled with legs thrashing. She had just enough time to leap upward so it passed under her. It struggled to its feet and ran, whimpering. A porternear it slashed at it with a belt dagger, but didn’t seem to hurt it.

    The other two hit Trajan from different angles. His hand-and-a-half bastard sword flashed from its sheath over his left shoulder, slashing downward at the beast on his right. His aim was off, the blade caught its side instead of splitting its skull, only cutting fur and flesh. Blood, red in the magical light of Trajan’s sword, sprayed the night.

    The other one hit Trajan in his armored chest, bowling him over, with the wounded one landing on top and then sliding off. Blunted claws did nothing on his chain mail armor, but the snapping jaws went for his face and throat.

    Screaming incoherently Marissa drew a dagger that also shed magical light, yanking it from its sheath on her hip as she threw herself on the unwounded beast. She stabbed it twice, the blade drawing blood from its ribs. It was bigger and heavier, so it shook her off and ran.

    As she stumbled to her feet the one Trajan wounded snapped at her with slavering jaws. It caught her right hand and probably would have ripped her hand off if the dagger had not been in the way. Instead it slashed its own mouth raggedly. Howling that same broken coughing sound, it fled after its companions.

    She dropped the dagger, her hand torn enough she couldn’t hold it.

    Etjar reacted to human howls of agony. Three other wolf things had attacked, downing three of the remaining porters. Two beasts grasped Julia’s wrists and dragged her across the leaves at a near run.

    Billi yelled, “JULIA!” and charged after her. At the edge of the light two dark forms tackled him, knocking his sword out of his hand. They dragged him after his wife into the darkness.

    Etjar took stock. Trajan was pulling himself to his feet. The blood on his armor didn’t appear to be his. At least not much of it. He moved to Marissa and immediately pulled clean cloth from a pouch, wrapping her hand. There was blood, but it looked like teeth scrapes. Definitely painful, but probably not bad – well, not according to the way they judged such things. “We’ll clean it later, hopefully they’re not poisonous,” he thought.

    Trajan knelt, picking up her fallen dagger. He grasped her left hand in his and slapped the pommel into her open palm. She reflectively grasped it, looking into his eyes with a frightened, uncertain gaze.

    Etjar tore his gaze from his friends. Two porters were left standing, both wounded. He wasn’t certain if the ones on the ground were dead, but honestly – they’d live or die – probably die. There wasn’t anything he could do for them. The living had to retreat to some defensible place and hope for dawn to come. He couldn’t carry them.

    Severino pulled himself to his feet. He had been bowled over by one of the beasts and had not been a recipient of fangs. “Julia?” he moaned.

    No nice way to put it,” Etjar thought. “They got her. She’s gone.”

    “Noooooo,” he screamed.

    “Marissa, guide him along. Trajan, you ready to fight?”

    “Ready as ever!” He scanned the darkness. “What are you thinking?”

    “A couple of hundred yards back along the trail there is that rock outcropping. If we can climb it, we’ll be twenty or thirty feet up, it will slow down the charges. Hopefully prevent them.”

    “OK. All we have to do is survive that far. Grab your packs and let’s go!”


    “What happened to you?” Billi asked. “I was never told.”

    “Never told?” Marissa frowned, then shook her head and continued, “The beasts were loath to get too close to our weapons. It appeared that mundane weapons wouldn’t hurt them, but our enchanted weapons could and did. We didn’t kill any, but we wounded those that got close.”

    “We lost both porters before we made the outcrop,” Trajan interjected. “One collapsed and the other panicked and ran off. Marissa cast a climbing spell on me and I climbed the outcrop. It was too sheer to climb otherwise. I dropped a rope and pulled them up.”

    “First light was a welcome sight,” the woman breathed. “We heard them walking around our perch, but it was too sheer, they couldn’t climb it. As the sun came up, we heard them leave.”

    “When the sun was fully up, we climbed down and checked the camp site. All the bodies were gone as were some of the packs. We scavenged enough travel rations and bedding for the trip back to Kieldar.”

    “What happened to Londo? And to Etjar?” he said somberly. Then he smirked. “And how did you two, who were not a couple, end up together?”

    Trajan and Marissa looked at each other sadly. Marissa stated, “Etjar was killed by a bereaver a few years after we lost you.” She looked back at her husband. “After he died all we had was each other. We got past our childishness and made a life together.”

    Trajan’s eyes brightened. “A good life together.”

    “There’s more to that story.” Billi made it a statement, not a question.

    “Yes, but that’s the short version.”

    “Londo?”

    Trajan took over the telling. “We marched as soon as we had picked up what we could from the camp site. Severino wanted to find his daughter and you, but we made him leave. Even if you were alive, there was no way we could do anything for you.” He sighed. “We followed the trail to Kieldar, stopping only when we had to. That first night we setup camp on an inaccessible rock outcropping, but never saw anything. After the second night we decided we were not being chased. But we moved quickly anyway.”

    “Severino recovered physically but all his energy was gone from him. He sold out to one of the larger merchants and became a caravan master. We lost track of him, no idea what happened to him.” Trajan looked hard at Billi. “Not that I’m complaining, but how are you alive?”

    “THAT is a long story, for another time.” The expression on his face was hard to decipher. Trajan guessed he wanted to talk but for some reason was unwilling to do it now.

    Bisonbit stood up, taking the hint. He was a surprisingly perceptive young man. “Come on you two,” he said to Jake and David with as much gravity as he could. “Time for lessons.”

    The pair slowly stood up and followed their tutor, grumbling all the way.

    Billi exhaled slowly. “There’s a lot more to the story, but I didn’t want to tell it in front of the children.”

    “Bad stuff?”

    “Mixed. The Anyuri, as I learned they call themselves, captured us for food and slaves. They have no problems eating humans, although for the twenty-three years I was their captive, I refused.” His face showed his disgust.

    “So why did they capture you?”

    “Breeding.”

    “BREEDING?”

    “Their species is from another reality, one of the elemental planes, I think. A small number were trapped on our world and managed to survive. They have an oral history, but it’s unclear if their ancestors understood how they got here.” He drew a breath. “They have a limited shape change ability and can transform from their natural shape, which resembles the bulky wolves you saw, to a human-like shape.”

    “Their histories say that at first their numbers increased, but at some point the number of live births lessened. They’re about as smart as humans, and realized they were having problems with inbreeding.”

    Billi smiled. “It turns out they can, in their humanoid form, breed with humans. They are also class conscious, so they wanted me – plus you,” meaning Trajan, “and Etjar for breeding stock. We were warriors while Londo and the porters were beneath their notice. They intended us to breed with their females.”

    Marissa asked, “What would they have done with me?” She looked horrified.

    “Julia became one of the young male’s mate, as you would have.”

    “For breeding?” She looked puzzled.

    “Definitely not! Their females get pregnant as humanoids but change to their natural form to give birth. The resulting pups are their kind.” He shook his head. “If Julia had gotten pregnant the birth would have been human, and they didn’t want that. Making humans is worthless to them.”

    Marissa and Trajan both looked confused, so Billi expounded, “Anyuri mate for life, so the female selected for me became my mate. Human women were selected to provide a mate to the young males who would otherwise not have a mate. But to not produce children.”

    “So you became part of their society?”

    “Yes and no. I was mate to one of their females, but not treated like one of them. But more valuable than Julia, and far more valuable than the slaves.”

    Trajan frowned. He didn’t like what he was hearing. “Good thing we escaped. I don’t think I’d have tolerated them touching Marissa.”

    Billi let out an explosive breath. “It was hard, seeing that male with Marissa. I fought it at first, but my mate informed me that if I wanted Julia to live, I had to accept my place and I had to accept Julia’s.” He chuckled, a sound containing no mirth. “I would have resisted and made them kill me … but I wanted Julia to live.”

    “She lasted nineteen years, but most of it was just surviving. She hated her life. She dreamed of escape. She hated the one that she was mated with.” He let out a long breath. “At times she hated me because I accepted my fate to help keep her alive. The anyuri understood what Julia meant to me, and they used it against me.”

    “Then one winter she got sick and died.” He face showed that Billi felt the pain, even after all the intervening years. “Yeah, she was a bitch.” He looked up at Marissa and Trajan. “Yes, I knew what she was. But she was MY bitch. If I had loved her less, I’d not have given in, and they would have killed me.”

    “After she died I became obsessed with escape. It took several years. One spring I was gathering shoots near a river. When none were near me, I leaped off a cliff into the water and floated down stream for three days before climbing out on the opposite bank.” At Marissa’s questioning look he continued, “They are deathly afraid of quantities of water. They panic and hide during a heavy rain. There was no chance they’d cross the river to get me.”

    “I made my way down the river to the coast and ended up in one of the larger trading cities. I figured I was safe.”

    Billi shook his head. “I took a position working for a merchant, one that kept me in the city. Over a year later I was returning home after dark when I saw her.” He looked up at them. “I saw my wife. My mate. The anyuri. In her natural form.”

    He shook his head sadly. “Probably because of their otherworldly origins, they are unharmed by mundane weapons. I never owned a magic weapon, so I prepared to die; I had no way to defend myself. I had abandoned her and they took that type of thing VERY poorly. I expected her to take her vengeance.”

    “She shifted into humanoid form and threw herself into my arms, crying. She begged me to kill her instead of leaving her again. She was ready to die before she’d give me up.” He shrugged his lack of understanding. “They mate for life, and after twenty-three years I was her mate. That I was human did not matter.”

    Marissa and Trajan both had their jaws hanging open in surprise.

    Billi smiled a small, sad smile. “If you think her actions were strange, mine were stranger. I took her home and kept her as my wife. Which she was. It doesn’t matter that I had no choice or that I was already married when mated with her.”

    “We lived together for nearly thirty more years before she passed away. We had three litters while at the monastery, but she was beyond childbearing years by the time she found me.”

    “Litters?”

    “That’s what I call our children. We mated as humans, but she changed to her natural form once she knew she was pregnant and stayed in that form to give birth. In general, a birth is four to eight pups.” He laughed, “I had sixteen children, nine which lived to grow up. I have over ninety grandchildren and can’t even count my great-grandchildren.”

    “A year before she died, several of our grandchildren found us. They wanted us to go back to the monastery, but we refused. Our life was in the city after so many decades.”

    “So several stayed with us.”

    “Now that she’s gone, they’re taking me home, but I wanted to see Kerr first.”

    “Home?”

    “The monastery.”

    “Do you need protection?” Trajan asked. Both he and Marissa looked ready to act, even at their advanced ages.

    Billi laughed again. “No. I don’t have a lot of years left, but I’m going to spend them with family. I guess living with my wife on my terms, not hers, changed my feelings. I miss her so much, some days it’s hard to make myself get up. Being with my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren helps.”

    A young man and two women entered the tavern. They were too dark to be Kerrean and their skin had an odd black hue to it. Billi smiled at them, then turned to Trajan and Marissa. “It’s been good to see you. Time to go home.”

  • Other Characters – Weapon of Change

    The characters in these pastiches are made up as single-use characters. While it’s possible I might re-use any of them at some point, I rather doubt it.

    When dreaming up this one I could not fit any of my existing characters into the framework I needed to explain how a Weapon of Change works. I needed someone bright and someone with no knowledge, but none fitted. So Irminric and Gislhere were invented. I don’t expect to use Irminric again … but if I need a sage, Gislhere will reappear.

     


     

    Wisl of Coomb drummed his fingers on the table, visibly irritated and obviously expecting faster results. Gislhere sighed quietly. Illiterate nobles showed impatience while others searched for information they were intrinsically incapable of finding. But men like Wisl paid the fees that supported research and purchased yet more books and scrolls.

    The sixth volume checked had the reference the scholar sought. He looked up brightly at his temporary employer.

    “You found the information I need?”

    “Yes, my lord. Your battle axe is indeed an important weapon with a long history prior to your grandfather winning it in battle.”


    Kneeling with head bowed, the soldier waited while the senior priest completed the first part of the ceremony. The incense burned his sinuses and eyes, but the soldier’s patience and acceptance of suffering, lessons learned through hard experience, kept him in place.

    The priest completed his chanting in the old tongue, “Rise, Irminric, soldier of Donblas!” The soldier surged smoothly to his feet, no hint of cramping caused by thirty minutes of kneeling visible on his face or in his actions.

    Lifting the axe from the pillow the priest presented it to Irminric. Head bowed the soldier accepted the weapon, its weight nothing in his strong hands. “Do you swear to use this weapon for justice, to use it bravely and with good intent in your duties as a protector of the People?”

    “I do swear!” The young man’s face flushed with a rush of emotion kept barely in check.


    In an anteroom Irminric questioned the priest, “Oswald, you said that Donblas blessed this axe. What does that mean?”

    “This axe is imbued with powerful magics, different from what wizards place on weapons, but powerful none the less. Unlike wizard-built weapons this one does not bear a single level of power. Instead, its power varies with the ability of its wielder.”

    “When a wizard enspells a weapon he casts one or more spells upon the weapon and then binds the spells permanently to it. Priests do not wield such magics.” Oswald mentally debated a few moments on how to proceed. “We use the magics granted us by our god to perform a similar, but very different, thing.”

    Irminric frowned but before he could utter a word the priest drew a breath and continued, “This weapon began when I commissioned a weapon of the highest quality. It is constructed of a star iron and Mithril alloy – rust-proof, harder yet more flexible, and more accepting of spells than mere steel. We senior priests consecrated it and cast spells upon it, setting its direction and preparing it for blessing by Donblas himself!”

    Noting that Irminric listened intently as if spellbound, he continued, “Then we prayed to Donblas to bless the weapon. He did so, and the result is the weapon you now hold in your hands.”

    “This axe has an edge no non-magical weapon could have, and it will maintain that edge against most targets. It will strike creatures whose skin or hide are proof against mundane weapons, and will even pierce the skin of demons and other unnatural creatures! Its powers are greatest against undead monsters. Beyond that I don’t know for sure.”

    The priest spoke in a more heated tone, “Donblas’ blessing is a powerful thing, more powerful than all but a few other gods that might approach his strength. Until you use it, we don’t know all it may do.” In a softer tone the priest continued, “But just as important is the wielder. The more skilled the pious one who wields it, the more powerful the blade becomes.”


    Irminric’s knees buckled when the heavy sword slammed into his shield, but he kept on his feet. The necromancer’s human guards were without exception big, strong, and skilled in sword play. This one battering his shield was enough to nearly unman him.

    Shunting the guard’s follow-up strike aside with the shield, Irminric struck in return, his magically sharp axe splitting the guard’s shield down the middle and shattering his arm. Controlling but not slowing the motion of the axe Irminric spun it in a figure eight and decapitated his opponent.

    He staggered to help his men who were losing to the necromancer’s other guards. Two of Donblas’ soldiers were dead or dying, two were badly wounded, and the remaining two bleeding from minor wounds. Irminric hit the first guard from behind, dropping him instantly and carrying the motion into the second. The remaining two guards lost focus, turning to deal with a greater danger. The lapse in focus proved fatal as the soldiers used the distraction to bloodily end the fight.

    Irminric checked his downed men – both were dead. Pulling strips of clean cloth from a pouch on his belt, he quickly bound the wounds of the living. “Shock and loss of blood often kill when the wounds won’t.

    “We’re outnumbered and badly damaged. Pick up Regenhere and Samlis – we’ll not leave their bodies for the necromancer to desecrate!” The least wounded men shouldered the dead and moved to follow their leader.

    Leading the way out of the building into the courtyard, Irminric stopped cold. In the moonlight stood the necromancer’s reinforcements – a dozen zombies – mindless animated bodies capable of using weapons and following simple directions such as “kill” – led by the stinking form of a wight.

    Zombies reacted relatively slowly so in the open the fast moving, well trained soldiers could defeat greater numbers. But the wight changed the odds badly – its touch burned with cold and sucked life from its victims. Worse than death was the fate of one drained of life by the abomination!

    Irminric lunged forward and hacked downward on the closest zombie, striking the joint between neck and shoulder. The super-sharp blade sliced through the leather armor cladding the undead thing, hacking through undead flesh and bone. Light flashed from the axe blade, bright to the human soldiers, blinding to the undead. The stink of the rotting bodies mixed with the stench of burned flesh – the flash burned the undead and staggered them.

    “AT THEM!” Irminric stepped past the nearest two zombies and hacked at the third. Its sword arm now gone at the elbow the zombie tried to hug the young soldier. Gagging at the stench Irminric stepped under the lunge and swung back to sever a leg at mid-thigh.

    Moving on, he battered the next in line with his shield, ducked a slash, spun, and decapitated the fifth that moved in on his left. Another burst of light illuminated the area and burned the zombies. Eight of the dozen were down and the remaining four reeled from the damage. The three surviving soldiers didn’t hesitate to attack while chance favored them.

    The second flash left the wight staggering in circles, stunned to insensibility. The magical axe’s third flash scorched the remaining zombies.


    “Your axe was handed down from father to son for twelve generations in the Willic family, until Irminric V lost it, along with his life, in battle against your grandfather.”

    “I know that, I know that!” howled the nobleman, hammering on the small table with both hands. “Why did it work so well for my father but not for me!”

    “Yes, I’m getting to that. This axe is very potent against the living dead, capable of slashing and hacking through their flesh, such as it is, with more facility than against the living. On a killing stroke it emits a burst of pure light that burns all nearby undead while any undead possessing a mind may be stunned.”

    “That is the powers of this weapon. Why it worked better for your father than for you? This weapon is blessed by Donblas. Devout followers of Donblas, as well as followers of Osiris and Heironeous his allies, are granted use of its powers. If you don’t follow Donblas, Osiris, or Heironeous the powers against undead won’t work.”

    The Baron of Coomb was uncharacteristically silent as he digested that information.

    Eyeing the nobleman, Gislhere continued, “Just as importantly, weapons of this nature gain a portion of their power from the wielder. The more powerful and skillful the wielder, the greater the powers of the axe. Your father was both a great axeman and a faithful follower of Osiris. My understanding is that you are neither, so until both conditions change you will never master this weapon.”

  • Council of Rendelshod – Greymen

    The Council of Rendelshod was composed of the characters from my original campaign, with my co-DM (my brother Kevin). While that campaign ended in 1986 (or so) the characters live on in my campaign world.

    Some of the characters – including Thorin, Meselda, Baldor, Susafras, Paprazzi, Edine, and Fay – are characters from the original campaign. Others, such as Kortag, were added to my own purposes long after our beloved characters graduated to NPC-hood.

    When I wrote this pastiche I debated on how to frame it for Marissa, Trajan, and Etjar, but wasn’t coming up with ideas. Then I thought of Meselda presenting to a bunch of scholars … and this one was born.

     


     

    Sitting in the third row in the largest lecture room of the University of Sathea, Ray was thrilled he had scavenged a token to attend the lecture. The five-tiered lecture room had seating for sixty, although easily twice that many managed to horn their way in, crowding the back of the room and the steps running up both sides of the tiers. The chattering and jostling of the many who had not wangled an invite made it hard to think, but at least he had a seat and a clear view of the lecture podium and the three shrouded tables next to it.

    The Professor’s Door behind the podium opened and in walked a diminutive woman, definitely under five feet tall. At first glance she was a dwarf with the characteristic stocky build, but only at first glance. Her features were different from typical dwarves, a bit softer and less rough-hewn. Some might even describe her as attractive, although dwarven women didn’t normally appeal to human tastes. From the surprised muttering Ray wasn’t the only one who wondered at her race.

    The woman stopped, momentarily nonplussed by the size of the crowd. She obviously expected a much smaller group, but after that short hesitation she stood her iron shod walking stick, its length nearly equal her own height, in a corner and stepped in front of the tables. After a moment of silence, the nattering voices increased to an even louder level, but tapered off as she waited patiently for the group to settle.

    Master Professor Taloquan chose that time to move from his prime seat in the middle of the first tier, covering the short distance to the woman in two long strides. Turning to face the audience the Master Professor motioned for quiet to a group that already nearly silent. “Settle down!” he barked in his usual gruff voice, his volume and tone even more pointless than his hand signals. “Today we have a visitor, Lady Meselda of the College at Rendelshod, who will tell us what she thinks she knows about the greymen.”

    Surprised muttering arose anew as the audience marveled at how much condescension the Master Professor packed into those few words. The entire room knew that Taloquan had argued ferociously against a foreign lecturer at HIS University. The Master Professor considered himself the foremost authority on demonic creatures and was quite put out that the department had seen fit to host an outsider lecture on his subject. His “discussion” with Dean Warmen had been heard a mile away, and during the two hour lecture that preceded this session he had made it clear that little, if anything, could be added to what he knew of the greymen.

    Completely unfazed by the professor’s dismissive tone, the woman politely thanked him and spoke to the assembly in a strong, clear voice. “Thank you for coming to hear me speak. Recent discoveries have significantly changed what we thought we knew of the so-called greymen.” With a twinkle in her eye, she turned again to the towering Master Professor and thanked him for inviting her.

    Murmuring rose again as the Master Professor’s hostile scowl softened to confusion as the diminutive woman calmly and politely faced down the bear of the University of Sathea. Rumbling something unintelligible he stalked back to his seat and flumphed down.

    Smiling at the audience, Meselda waited until the side talk ended.

    “What do we know of the greymen?” Holding up her right hand with fingers extended, she ticked off her points by closing fingers. “One, they are named aptly as their skin has a greyish complexion, a sign of poor health in mortal creatures. Two, they are immune to magic spells. Three, they cannot be hurt by non-magical weapons. Four, they have strong magic powers.” Closing her thumb to form a fist, Meselda intoned, “And five, greymen are a form of devil or demon, common in the Outer Planes from the Hells to the Abyss.”

    Returning her attention to the Master Professor, “Does that summarize what is known about the greymen?”

    Startled gasps of muted laughter showed Ray that others were astounded that Taloquan had met his match in a battle of wits. Having his entire two hour lecture trivialized to five short points left the massively overbearing human speechless. Glancing around Ray realized he wasn’t the only one enjoying the Master Professor’s discomfort.

    After ten full seconds of silence, she turned her attention back to the entire audience and continued, “As you are aware last week a group of greymen attacked a caravan only a mile outside the northeast gate of the City. Fortunately for the survivors of the caravan a group of Council members was nearby and assisted in fighting off the attackers.”

    The more knowledgeable audience members all snorted together. It was commonly known that the caravan guards were nearly wiped out and that a mere half dozen members of the Council of Rendelshod destroyed over twenty greymen and less than a dozen wounded greymen survivors managed to escape.

    “We,” obviously meaning the Council, “examined the bodies and discovered some interesting facts.”

    A first-year student dashed to the table closest to the podium, pulled the sheet off to reveal a very dead humanoid body, and franticly turned a crank that tilted the table top upwards to display the body to the audience. Just as quickly the student retreated with the sheet.

    The body was over six feet tall, skeletally lean but muscular, the skin a sallow grey uniformly across the extensively scarred body. The face, topped with short grey hair, appeared human of a racial stock not dissimilar from Sathean, a characteristically broad nose and chin. Other than being six inches too tall and grey skinned instead of bronze, the being might be mistaken for a Sathean. The cause of death was obviously the dished-in left temple, although the upper lip was torn and bruised.

    “While the skin coloration would indicate serious dis-health in a human, this specimen was very fit. Although the extensive scarring all over the body does lead one to believe that it led a more dangerous life than that of the typical scholar …”

    Smiling warmly she paused to let the audience titter, then continued, “Thin to the point of gauntness, he was very strong. Just prior to being killed he struck down three soldiers, two of which died from his blows. The third was fortunate that only his arm was broken.”

    “All of the bodies had the same general skin coloration, so we know the greymen are in fact grey.” Ray glanced at the Master Professor whose own coloration shifted to red as he digested her off-hand comment.

    At her nod the student helper displayed the second body. Perhaps a bit shorter than the first, this one had different facial features – the nose was broad but the chin was oddly narrow and the corners of the eyes were tilted down just a bit, giving it a decidedly odd appearance. This was like no human stock Ray had ever seen in the cosmopolitan Sathean Empire. The lanky grey hair was burned off above the eyes and the chin was similarly scorched, as was the left hand. An even half dozen black-charred holes were scattered across the chest.

    “These two greymen were in the area of a Fireball. This one”, indicating the first body, “shrugged off the magical fire without harm while this one”, pointing to the second body, “obviously didn’t. It also failed to shrug off the Force Bolts that ended its life.”

    Scanning the audience before speaking, Meselda stated, “Greymen are NOT immune to magical spells although it appears that some have resistance as do most demons and devils.”

    Master Professor Taloquan started to sputter a rebuttal but sputtered out as the small woman met his outraged gaze with her steely one. “The facts are clear. This one died from magic.”

    Looking around the audience Ray marveled at the utter silence, all side discussions completely shut off. Taloquan was the bear of the department, known for shouting down anyone he couldn’t beat with facts. This small woman, barely half his size, shut him up with a stare.

    Drawing in an angry breath the Master Professor intoned, “I suppose you have a reliable witness who can verify the cause of death?”

    A high-pitched barked laugh startled the room, drawing all eyes from the confrontation to the Professor’s Door. Unnoticed during the lecture, three figures had entered and stood by the wall.

    These three figures were a study in contrasts. The first was tremendous, a towering figure well over seven feet tall with broad shoulders and a blocky chest. His face wasn’t fully human, he was clearly a goblinoid half-breed of some sort.

    The second was also a half-breed, this one human and elf. He would have towered over most in the room, but seemed small in comparison to his larger companion. Over six feet tall, broad of shoulder and narrow of waist, he had long silver hair, elvish ears and nose … on a decidedly human face. Ray thought, “so much for half-elves all being beautiful“.

    The figure that had laughed continued this study in contrasts – a halfling barely four feet tall. Next to the others he looked positively tiny and defenseless. Stepping between the two tables he placed a familiar hand on the corpses’ respective arms. Looking Taloquan directly in the eyes and speaking in a reedy voice the halfling piped, “Meselda killed both of these pieces of … offal. Unless you’d like to join them I don’t suggest you insult her integrity again.”

    No longer did the halfling look small or helpless. If anything, he towered over the much taller human. The Master Professor recoiled from the gaze and words, fear etched on his face. Even the bravest in the room wouldn’t hold the halfling’s disturbing gaze.

    “Fay!” Meselda barked. “There’s no need for that.”

    Fay smirked at the professor, bowed gracefully to Meselda, and stepped back alongside his companions. Ray noted he did not turn his back on the audience. Shivering, Ray turned his attention back to the dwarven woman.

    The room was silent except for the alien sound of fabric rustling as people shifted. Stares directed at the halfling shifted to the dwarven woman, and a palpable sense of respect for her filtered through the room.

    Looking at the Master Professor the woman continued in the silence, “Yes, I think I am a very reliable witness.” A third time she nodded at the student, who this time hesitated before rushing to display the third body. His turning of this table’s crank was yet more frantic, and his grip slipped twice. Meselda waited patiently while the student’s face grew redder.

    This corpse was nearly a foot shorter than the others and had oddly bulging eyes. Although that might not be a racial feature, but a result of the dozen stab wounds in the chest and the gapingly slashed throat. “This one made the mistake of grabbing Lord Fay.” Gesturing at the halfling, who merrily waved to the audience, Meselda continued, “A very mundane knife inflicted these wounds.”

    “This one did not require a magical weapon to kill.” Oddly cowed the Master Professor did not reply to her contradiction of his lecture. Letting the thought digest, she added, “However, one of the leaders did prove immune to the mundane blades of the caravan guardsman, so some greymen are immune to mundane weapons.”

    “The leaders demonstrated some spell-like powers, but most of the greymen soldiers did not. Those that did exhibit powers didn’t have anything all that powerful, simple things like magical Darkness and a Lesser Poison Cloud.”

    Ray laughed to himself. Meselda Gilderlo of the Council of Rendelshod might consider those magics trivial, but few others in the lecture hall did!

    Pouring herself a glass of water from a pitcher in the podium, the dwarven woman surveyed the audience, apparently steeling herself for some final revelation. Her dry throat quenched, she continued.

    “The most interesting findings occurred after the battle. As you should all realize, regardless of external differences we are all pretty much alike inside”. Pointing to the Master Professor, an elf, then her three companions and finally herself, she said, “we all have hearts, lungs, stomachs, and guts – all performing the same function and in the same general places.”

    “Creatures of the Outer Planes are different. Even amongst demons the organs are often markedly different – in function, appearance, and location. Such creatures may have organs whose function we can’t easily identify. One of the most dangerous things about fighting an unknown demon is that vital spots are usually different. What kills one may simply make another angry.”

    “We dissected a dozen greymen after the battle. The results are conclusive. They are … human.”

    Bedlam filled the lecture hall and even the chastised Master Professor Taloquan lurched to his feet, shouting. The noise continued for a minute without showing any signs of abating, and if anything got worse as over one hundred strident voices got louder and louder, each trying to shout down the others.

    BABOOOOMMMMM!!!!

    An impossibly loud clap of thunder shattered the pandemonium, knocking some attendees off their feet and leaving an equally impossible silence. “Thank you, Lord Kortag,” Meselda said to the half-elf, who was apparently a spell caster of some nature. Smiling at the half-elf’s grave nod, Meselda turned back to her audience.

    “These creatures, regardless of appearance, origination, and powers – are VERY human. There are some differences that don’t quite match up, but the evidence is conclusive. These bodies are yours for examination. Draw your own conclusions. We will reconvene here at this same time tomorrow to discuss your results.”

    The staff standing in the corner flew of its own volition into her waiting hand, and the three companions swept out the Professor’s door behind her.