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thetradeway · 3 years

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Session 51 Sep 18 2021: “No! Get out of my orifices!”

Right - where were we? Oh yes, we fought some piranha and found some chests and some Duergar statues. We fill Mina in on what she missed; she offers to craft Gideon a new finger.

“No… No, I don’t want your goblin crafts on my body!”

Then there’s some waffle about covid deniers. (Ed believes covid is real; Gideon does not.)

Who wants control of the urine-drenched sorcerer? Sophie, OOC: “You make it sound so appealing.”

She agrees to take Ahleqs, if Matthew will help her out.

Now, when I put a message on the group chat earlier to ask if we were starting at the usual time tonight, our illustrious DM messaged back to say ‘Yep yep yep thumbs up emoji smiley face emoji’ which was far too enthusiastic. We are all now very wary. Ardvack slams a potion before we get started.

Right, where were we going? There is still a strange magical island with a wall around it to explore. There is a boat that leads to it; Gideon advances to Investigate. It looks old but in good shape and water-tight. There are oars. He thinks three will fit in it; he volunteers as do Tarragon and Melaina. Gideon, sternly: “No pilfering, rogue.”

Tarragon rows us across. Do the others want her to go back and pick them up? Apparently not.

Gideon investigates the magical barrier, which is blocking the door, but rolls a nat 1. We make Perception checks - the giant statue of the dwarves god of crafts has an offering bowl at his feet, with something written in Dwarvish. Gideon would read it, but Ed’s buggered off.

“You cannot enter this room.”

Tarragon decides to take this as a challenge. She takes out a gold piece and puts it in the offering bowl; nothing happens so she takes it back out. Gideon covers the ‘not’ part of the carving so it reads 'you can enter this room', but that doesn’t seem to help either.

Tarragon looks at the magical wall. It’s blue, and looks a similar colour to the brazier in the other room. Could we light a torch from the brazier and try waving that at the wall? Maybe. In the meantime Gideon puts some food in the bowl; nothing doing.

Ardvack, shouting across the water: “Have you tried blood?”

Gideon squeezes some blood from his severed finger stump - still nothing. Tarragon rows the boat back to get Kessler, who has hopefully been lighting one of her torches. She has not been able to light her torch from the brazier, however; it won't catch.

Is the bowl loose? Could we pick it up? No, it’s attached to the floor. Could Kessler pick up the brazier? It won’t move either. Time for stupid ideas.

“Hey Carl,” shouts Kessler pointing at the brazier, “put your hand in that.” Carl does not. Kessler gets just such a doggy look from Ardvack; she laughingly tells him she can’t tell because he has no face. Instead he leans down and says snottily, “Carl is precious.” He investigates the brazier. Can he feel warmth coming off it? Nat 20.

There is no heat coming off it. It does create light, but there is no noise. It is not consuming anything physical. He doesn’t think it’s evil or necessarily good; it’s just a spiritual fire. Ahleqs does an Arcana check. It’s some kind of divine magic; he is fairly certain it could be extinguished with a high enough levelled Dispel Magic spell.

Ardvack puts his hand in the brazier; it doesn’t burn him. He puts his whole head in. He’s a bit light-blinded afterward for a minute or so, but is otherwise unharmed.

Tarragon has Dispel Magic, but doesn’t have it prepared. What about Ahleqs? He doesn’t have the spell at all.

Gideon wants to rest his battle-axe on the offering bowl; he does that, but nothing happens. He rescinds the axe. Perhaps crafts, considering the nature of the god? Perhaps something he’s made?

Ahleqs has Ardvack’s leather face mask at the moment; since that was made by Kessler, perhaps we could try that.

Melaina is Investigating the door behind the wall of force. She can see beyond it to a ruined dock. If she puts her hands out to the wall of force, she can feel it though it doesn’t harm her. Would putting the brazier out remove the wall? She rolls a low Insight check and doesn’t know. Gideon rolls a low Religion check as well; he doesn’t know either.

“Alright Goblin, you’re up. Do your thing,” says Gideon. She puts Ardvack's mask in the bowl, but still nothing happens.

DM offers a clue if we roll good on Insight; Ardvack, Melaina and Gideon all do. They think the inscription refers to the desired offering. Gideon wants to put something in the bowl that would not fit in the door.

What about a fish? They breathe air, and so could not pass anywhere above the water. Tarragon steps into the bowl and Wild Shapes into a fish; still nothing happens. She changes back. Is this one of those children’s riddles that we should have definitely got by now? Joe says we will absolutely kick ourselves when we get it.

Ardvack picks a handful of mushrooms - and that bloody well works. You cannot enter this ‘room. Goddammit. Joe removes the wall. If Ardvack had a face, he’d be looking smug.

We go through. Goblin shield goes first. She sees something horrible - it is currently standing motionless. It looks like a huge dwarf in heavy armour, but made of stone, and there is a faint red glow emanating from its chest. There is an open chest next to it full of shiny shinies; Kessler points them out to Melaina, possibly in hopes that she will go first. Melaina, sadly for Kessler, does not fall for this trick.

Ardvack ventures too close and it spots him - initiative time. (Ed has disappeared again. While we wait, we discuss Matthew’s zombie campaign. We will all be level 2 when we return, which gives us an ability called Zombie Grab. Matthew and Sophie order pizza.)

Tarragon Potions and readies a Thorn Whip (which always reminds Sophie of a Walnut Whip. Not the Ann Summers sort of whip, Joe asks? No, but interesting that his mind went there.) Melaina hides and shoots - 24 hits, for 22 damage. Her bow is magical, correct? Yes. Good. Okay. Bits of rock fall off the golem. Hooray!

Does she want to move, say, to run away? (Oh shit.) She moves back so everyone else can get in.

Kessler takes aim with her crossbow. 24 hits for 7 damage, and her weapon is magical as well. She reloads and shoots again for 7 more damage while Matthew and Sophie decide what Ahleqs is going to do.

They decide that he will cast Shatter on the golem. Ba-boom! It has to make a Constitution save - at Disadvantage. “Because you’re made of stone. Like an idiot.” But it gets Advantage on saves versus magic, so that’s just a straight roll. 13. “Ha! You lose!” It takes 19 Thunder damage. Ahleqs cheers, then hides behind Tarragon.

It rushes at us - Tarragon looses her Thorn Whip but misses.

Carl uses his big stick that Tarragon gave him, but misses, almost hitting everyone else around him. He was excited. He doesn’t move, but holds the line.

Gideon is up. “Ed stop eating sausages!”

“… How did you know what I was doing.”

He Acid Splashes it. The Golem fails the save, even with Advantage, and takes 9 Acid Damage.

Like the hero he has proved himself to be, Ardvack does a cautious tactical repositioning to get away from the golem, does Shksdjlsdglsghjkhhbllhh, and then casts Eldritch Blast. It hits, and more stone crumbles off the golem.

Tarragon does Greater Shlgljksdkgjfhl;jjjhh, just to flex on Ardvack, and hits it for 11 Bludgeoning. She bares her teeth at the golem.

Melaina falls back a little, and shoots again. Matthew and Sophie suddenly seem unable to hear the rest of us, so there is a short recess while we sort that out. Their wifi has died. I decide, in my infinite wisdom, to restart my computer; of course, it decides to install something without even asking and so I am still waiting for it long after Matthew and Sophie return. I miss a bunch of stuff; some people do some damage, and the golem does a thing where it forces a Wisdom save - those that fail have their speed halved, and can do an action OR a bonus action on their turn, but not both. Joe makes an attack for me, which hits. Tarragon is pleased. And then I’m back!

The golem is looking ropey. Its light is still glowing, but bits are falling off it. It turns on Carl, even though Kessler has imposed Disadvantage on it if it attacks anyone but her. 14 still hits, as does 29, and he takes THIRTY NINE damage. Carl is now on zero, having had exactly 39 HP previously.

Matthew, sounding worried: “This changes things.”

Carl makes a real death save - and fails. "No! Carl!"

Gideon's turn - and Ed has snuck off again. Or fallen asleep. We skip him for now and move on to Ardvack. “I’ll save you Carl!” Then, to himself as he runs, “Not my precious Carl…” He casts Life Transference. (A lovely, sacred, holy Cleric spell.) He saves Carl, but instantly regrets walking closer to the golem.

Tarragon batters it for 16 damage - the light begins to flicker and sputter in its chest. Does she want to move? “Nope!” She could bonus action dive in the water with the Quippers if she wanted? “… No thank you.”

Melaina does a Scorching Ray - one of the three hits for 7 fire damage total. It’s looking ‘exceedingly ropey’ but is still up.

Kessler gets the how-de-do-dis with her Thunder Gauntlets - she runs up it and yells “Red means stop!” and punches it in the chest. It falls to the ground in a big pile of rubble. We solved Joe’s Golem puzzle!

Matthew, immediately: “Loot its corpse!”

Kessler is holding the gem from its chest; it is no longer glowing. Ardvack sets about the treasure chest. It is open, and there is gold inside. He clicks on the loot chest, and adds 100gp to the 3000cp he finds. (428 cp, and 14gp each.)

Kessler: “Anyone got a Transmute spell?” (That's a lot of coins.)

Ardvack shares out the treasure as equally as possible. Kessler finds herself overburdened. Melaina slyly: “I could carry your treasure for you.”

Kessler: “No thank you.”

Where to next? There was a rope bridge in the room with the brazier that led to an island with a dead giant spider on it; Joe zips us all there for expediency.

Melaina crosses the bridge to approach the ‘very very dead’ spider; it looks like its moving around. Not the legs, but as if there’s something moving under the skin…

A swarm of maggots burst out of the spider, taking her by surprise. They swarm up her legs and over her flesh.

Melaina, equally horrified and furious: “No! Get out of my orifices!”

(This is why Joe was so pleased earlier isn’t it.)

She now has two rot grubs burrowing under her skin. We’ve all heard of these, the subject of adventurer’s tales swapped in taverns. Melaina knows she has to burn them while they’re still just under her skin, or they will burrow to her heart and kill her.

Well shit.

We roll initiative…

Ardvack fails at Eldritch Blast, and the grubs become resistant to that type of damage (Force I think?) for 1d4 rounds. (4. Fuck.)

Ahleqs does a Burning Hands at them. They fail the save and take 6 fire damage. Several screech, and curl up and burn.

Melaina wants to cast Scorching Ray on herself - she can do that. She takes two fire damage, and the grubs die. She can spend the rest of her action to squeeze them back out of the holes they burrowed in through. Delightful.

Tarragon moves to the side and Thunderwaves the swarm - they fail the save and are pushed off the bridge into the water to be eaten by the Quippers. Yay! Everyone wins! We move forward, Melaina at the head.

DM suddenly: “Stop there, Melaina!”

Us immediately: “Oh no!”

She finds a door with a shape carved in it - the gem that Kessler took from the golem looks like it would fit in there. That is not relevant right now, however, as she has charged forward and tripped a trip wire. She fails her Dex save and a giant ballista bolt sticks her for 14 damage. Could have been a lot worse. She decides she’s not doing anything else, even when tempted with a treasure chest; she goes to sit in a corner and sulk.

The treasure chest is on a different island, reachable only via a broken bridge. Kessler suggests throwing the dead spider into the water to distract the Quippers while we jump across.

Do we want to take a short rest first? Yes. Tarragon makes up some Relaxing Bark, allowing everyone to regain a couple of Hit Dice which we roll, and take potions. Ardvack casts Life Transference on Carl again.

We are about to move on when the DM has us all roll a d20. Uh oh. Anyone who got ten or more can get five more HP back, as we burned incense in a temple. Yay!

Matthew, grumbling: “Oh as soon as we get a long rest, you can bet I’m going to be re-summoning Admiral Pancakes…”

Do we want to jump the bridge after the treasure? Is it worth it? Melaina wants to; the rest of us are dubious. How far can she jump with a run-up? Ten feet. She could jump it.

“Alright then, I’ll do it. Whoosh.” Kessler follows her.

Melaina checks for traps - an 8. She can’t see any! Sophie, OOC, resignedly: “Oh, right, okay.”

She checks the chest itself and finds a trap mechanism - some nozzles sticking out of the ground next to the chest. She makes a roll with her thieves tools, and by the skin of her teeth (13) disarms it. It would have been bad; one nozzle would have squirted her with flammable liquid and the other would have set her on fire. She finds a Brooch of Shielding! There is another item, a ring, which seems magical; Kessler takes eleven minutes and casts Identify as a ritual. It’s a ring of Swimming!

Melaina gives the brooch to Ahleqs, as he would almost certainly appreciate anything that would give him some extra protection. We decide to crack on, as it would take another hour for him to attune to it. Besides, the longer we’re down here the more this place sucks so we’re all eager to leave.

Kessler puts the gemstone into the hole in the door and it creaks open; we walk through. We enter some tunnels, which are very claustrophobic after the caverns. It’s very dark. We follow them until we come out into another large cavernous room.

We jump to another map…

There are more islands with about ten foot tall towers with glowing orbs at the top. More water, and a broken stone bridge. (Is anyone reminded of Beverly?)

The bad news is, this room has glowing orb lights, a broken bridge, and more islands. The good news is, it seems quiet enough that we could take a long rest.

Kessler does her Alarm spell, and Carl - not needing to sleep - takes all the watches. We all take turns to watch with him as “his Perception is for shit.”

Kessler takes first, Tarragon takes second, and Melaina third.

Carl and Kessler make Perception checks. A 3 and a 6; oh dear. Kessler thinks she hears water noises, but it could be just the water on the shore.

Then Tarragon and Carl. 13 for Tarragon and a 16 for Carl. We watch some bats flitting about in the light from the strange tower; nothing dangerous, however. Everyone but Tarragon now completes their long rest. She retires, and Melaina and Carl roll Perception.

Carl is on fire tonight; a 17. He makes an Intelligence check - a 9. That’s actually not bad. After about 3 hours he becomes agitated and tries to say something, but can’t. Melaina’s nostrils are assailed with a foul stench; she looks to the water to see something breaking the surface of it. Which means that whatever it is doesn’t get a surprise round…

Melaina and Carl roll initiative. Carl has used all his good rolls on Perceiving. But he’s ready for anything; he’s got his stick.

Whatever is crawling out of the water looks like a troll, but dripping with horrible ichorous black ooze and smelling like a busy harbour at low tide.

Matthew, OOC: “They smell like a bonfire of nappies. No - a burning zoo.”

Melaina hides behind some mushrooms; triggering Kessler’s Alarm spell as she leaves the area (because Kessler didn’t specify otherwise). We all wake, and can roll Initiative next round. Melaina takes aim with her longbow. 19 to hit with Sharpshooter, which does. She gets a nat 1 for her Sneak/Sharpshooter which is only a measly 25 total, plus her bow’s damage of 9 for 34. The thing lets out a howl, which would have woken us if the Alarm spell hadn’t.

It approaches us. It’s wearing a loincloth; small mercies.

Everyone but Ardvack and Melaina makes CON saves as the troll runs a filthy claw down its own forearm for a venom spray attack. Gideon and Tarragon take 18 poison damage and are poisoned. The others take half damage and are not poisoned. Now it does its multi-attack.

It has a bite at Tarragon but misses, then a claw at Kessler and misses. Then it claws at Gideon, and misses again. Ha!

Another one shambles up, but doesn’t attack yet. It’s Carl’s turn; he uses his zombie agility to run up to one of the trolls and give it a good old Slam - “Classic Slam - ” and uses his Zombie Grab to try and grapple it. They make contested STR checks - Carl wins even with a 14. The bad news is that part of the troll’s corpulence is ruptured, emitting a black foul ichor into the air - Tarragon and Kessler take more damage as it, however unintentionally, does an Acid Splash.

“… Thanks Carl.”

Melaina goes first. She goes to move but takes 15 Force damage from the towers. What??? Sophie OOC, to Matthew: “Honey, I’m being shot by the nasty tower.” She was just inside its range. She shoots one of the trolls. She hits, and causes another Acid Splash. Tarragon has just woken up from a Long Rest, and is now under half HP. Melaina does do 34 damage to the troll though.

Gideon, with advice from Matthew, casts Grease under the troll that Carl is *not* grappling. This seems a classic ‘Grease’ situation. It rolls a DEX save, and fails, falling prone.

Tarragon casts Lesser Restoration on herself, ending the Poisoned effect, Rages, and steps out of range of the Venom spray.

Ahleqs screams the incantation for Mage Armour, and steps back also. Kessler’s turn, and she will risk stepping back. One is restrained and the other prone, so no attack of Opportunity. She takes out her crossbow and shoots at the one grappled by Carl. 20 hits for 11 piercing damage. “And I will shoot that sucker again.” 17 also hits for 7 damage. She drinks one of her potions; wise.

Carl takes 18 poison from Kessler’s attacks on the troll, but he’s immune to poison. Carl has the Grappler feat, so even though the troll is a size larger than him it doesn’t get Advantage on the Strength check to free itself. They roll straight Strength checks - Carl rolls a ten, and the troll rolls a 6, even with a plus four modifier.

The prone one uses half its movement to stand up and moves forward, biting at Kessler - 26 to hit. It actually hits her! Even Shield won’t do it! She takes 6 piercing and 6 poison damage, and is poisoned until the start of the troll’s next turn.

It claws twice at Tarragon; “Bring it.”

24 hits, the ten doesn’t. Ten slashing (halved to 5) and 6 poison (not halved). She’s at 19HP now, and hasn't even attacked yet.

Ardvack wakes up to see the trolls attacking. “Ah. It must be Wednesday.” Matthew, OOC: “Im going to do… something… stupid. Or… brilliant.” Seeing the damage Tarragon and Kessler have taken, he heals Tarragon for 11HP. She blinks with surprise, and he backs up.

We call it there as it's getting late...

#dnd #campaign diary #thetradeway

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erynnar · 4 years

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“Tevinter mages?” Kai flashed Zev a look while raising her eyebrow, “I would say that you are joking, madam, but I am sitting here watching two of them and how their presence affects everyone.” Kai looked at Sal, “How would mages of any stripe control dwarves? You’re magic resistant.”

“Ah therein lies the proverbial rub, along with the ‘which came first the Deep Stalker or the egg’ puzzle.” Sal barked out a short burst of sarcastic anger. “We may be immune to magic itself, but we are not resistant to being torn asunder by demons, salroka. These mages are holding our royal line hostage, as well as our beloved city. They have some sort of devices which open portals to the Fade and pull these creatures through. They have placed them in the palace, in particular with my sister and my nephew. They also have them hidden in various places around Orzammar, including Dust Town.”

Sal made a motion for more drinks for everyone and waited until the various beverages had been placed on the table in front of them before continuing on. “I was on a mission at the time for Bhelen, when these mages came to visit along with their dangerous toys. They gave a little demonstration on the magical portal they snuck into Endrin, my nephew’s room.”

It took every bit of discipline Kai had not to jump from her seat, “They didn’t use the child as a sacrifice did they?”

“Easy, salroka, I’m no slick-tongued Shaper with stories. No, they didn’t sacrifice my nephew, he was merely held at knife point, while the blood of the guard they had overpowered was used to fuel the portal. Endrin’s nanny was the ‘example’ on how it worked, the poor duster. They used the portal to call up a demon made of flame and it tore her apart.”

Kai watched as Sal knocked back yet another mug. Kai smiled in amusement, the dwarf wasn’t even tipsy yet. Kai would have been under the table by now.

“Needless to say, my nephew has a new ‘nanny’ now.” Sal motioned for a refill.

Kai snorted, “Let me guess, one of your less than welcome guests stepped in to take the position.”

“You got it in one, salroka. Maybe you skyers aren’t as dim as they say you are.” Sal tossed Kai a saucy grin and a wink.

“Their plan is devious to be sure, but how did they get close enough to the royal family to implement it?” Zev’s voice startled both Kai and Sal as he had been sitting so quietly observing that they had forgotten he was there. He chuckled at their expressions and shrugged, “I used to spy and kill in my old life. Old talents die hard, no?” He flashed his most charming smile making Sal laugh and causing Kai to grin and wrinkle her nose at him.

Sal answered him, “They came under the guise of negotiating lyrium, same as the Tower does here in Ferelden. They also brought pale dwarves with them, claiming they were our cousins from Kal-Sharok, and that they wanted to reunite with Orzammar not just have trade. Obviously that was a lie.” Sal barked out a short laugh, “Well, not entirely a lie, they have been taking bronto-sized amounts of lyrium into the Deep Roads, but to what purpose? As for the supposed dwarven contingent from Kal-Sharok, that may be true or another lie. Bhelen’s father and now he himself have been in touch with our “lost” cousins in writing only. This too could be a ruse though it if is not, then I do wonder what stake Kal-Sharok has in this.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Kai almost thought she was hearing things.

“I mean just that, salroka. It isn’t exactly safe to be in the palace, and it is Stone hard to sneak in. When I managed, I was only able to see my sister. Bhelen knows what is going on, but seeing him is impossible, they are with him always.” Sal threw back yet another tankard and asked for another round for the table. They waited until the barmaid returned with a tray, leaving drinks, and clearing the empty mugs away, before continuing.

“I am sensing that this isn’t all of it. The disturbing happenings I mean.” Kai cocked an eyebrow at the dwarva. Kai noticed the mages looking their way, “Laugh as if I just told a joke. We mustn't look too serious or our friends over there may get suspicious.”

Sal threw back her head and laughed, slapping a hand on the table, “No it isn’t. A group of our best dwarven engineers were taken with the first large shipment of lyrium into the Roads. They also visited the Shaperate and removed books on Cairidin, his anvil, and golems. So, if I had to guess, salroka, it has to do with recreating a golem army.”

“That would be my guess too. Though there has to be more to it than that. Amassing a golem army should take years. I don’t see the Tevinter mages spending years to make one such army, that would draw attention. Tevinter has its hands full fighting the Qunari. My understanding is that takes all of their attention. Yet lately they have been in contact with Anora and coming into Ferelden. I thought we had given them enough of a bloody nose to make them leave for good. The deal being offered must be so good that they are not going to be easily dissuaded. Now it begs the question, is it sanctioned by the Tevinter government as a whole or group of mages who wish to have more power? This might be a rogue faction of their mages.” Kai absently ran a finger around the rim of her mug, thinking. “But if it is not I think this whole thing bodes not only ill for Ferelden, but all of Thedas.” Kai shot Zev a look.

“I think we need to speak to our delectably endowed Wynne, she is a well traveled mage, and may know more about Tevinter and its government. Did she not mention she traveled there once as a young mage?” Zev cocked an eyebrow with a saucy grin.

Kai nodded and chuckled, but grew pensive once more, “This is definitely more complex than what first meets the eye.”

“When is it not, mi gra? Especially when you are involved.” Alistair’s voice teased in her ear.

“Ha, very ha!” Kai huffed into her own head. “But so true, my beloved.” She could feel his worry despite the levity. She didn’t blame him, her own belly felt as if worms were wriggling in it amongst Oghren’s special.

She was startled out of her internal dialogue by Sal motioning to Corra. The hand motion for drinks she recognized, but the other had her curious. Whatever it was, the barmaid nodded and went to the back room behind the scarred counter. She wasn’t sure what to expect when Corra returned with a tray which she placed on their table. The girl put down more drinks and a leather bag along with a round wooden board with round divots on its surface.

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troll-for-initiative · 5 years

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Codex Umbra #3

After a short rest on the front steps of the library, the group went back to the Obsidian Fortress. They had 4 out of 5 Astural Scrolls. Where is the 5th one? They pondered a bit about that question. On their way back to the fortress, they decided to make a quick detour over the Obelisk. They previously fought a witch and a scrying by Dirodan, the warlock, showed them that she was hiding somewhere around the thing.

They investigated the Obelisk, a big monument made of obsidian. The name of every single inhabitant living in the city when it was destroyed is carved into it. But one name seemed out of place: Why would someone carve the name of the very person, who destroyed the city, into a memorial for the fallen? They touched it and found a hidden staircase underneath the Obelisk, leading to a secret temple of some sorts. But they weren’t alone when they entered. Between statues of people crying out in terror stood a person, back turned towards the group. The person was muttering an arcane phrase, which Cloud, the wizard, identified to be necromancy. He quickly countered whatever was going to be casted, drawing the attention of Skamos, a human wizard, as it seemed. They realized, they met him before, when one of their friends had died and they were desperately trying to find a way of getting him back. Skamos was the person who offered them the means to, if they got him a manual of stone golem creation. Now, standing before them, was the very same person accomponied by a big stone golem. He wasn’t very friendly but Skamos was happy to share the secret knowledge within this temple with th group, if they only left him alone as soon as possible. This secret knowledge consisted of arcane runes from times long gone. With a bit of thinking, a nifty wizard could be able to transcribe these runes into working spells. Needles to say, the group stayed the night while Skamos and Cloud copied the runes for later use.

After Skamos disappeared with his golem, the group went back to the Onyx Fortress. Due to some mischief by Valaris, the cleric, they checked out the Barber Street, a place where one can hire an assassin for almost every kind of job. The group actually tried to hire someone to kill the evil priest who is currently taking over Kraghammer, a large subterranean city of dwarves, with a giant undead creature. Didn’t quite work out. But on their search for a killer, they met a little boy, who was strangely familiar to Cloud. He had seen this boy in his dreams, destroying his home town of Ank’Harel. In his dreams, a disembodied voice told him: “If you want to save the future, a child has to die.” The group decided to talk to the guardian of the boy and to inform him about what the future had in store for the little boy. Cloud and Dirodan went to the tower, the guardian was living in, while Valaris and their newest travel companion Inian, another cleric, went to talk to Waken in hopes of getting the location of the last Astural Scroll.

Waken seemed to be fully aware of everything the group had done so far within the walls of his city. He also seemed inclined of helping them, if they helped him first. If they manage to steal something from his student, a teenage boy called Vaughn and his trusty familiar Rango the Raccoon, he would give them the information they need plus some training in acquiring things without money for Valaris.

Meanwhile, Cloud confronted a man called Inivior, an old and very unfriendly wizard, with his visions of the future. But Inivior denied the problem. He told them, that the future is always changeing. And that the boy is barely doing his studies, so it’s rather unlikely, that he would burn down a whole city in the near future.

How are they going to convince Inivior, that the boy he’s protecting, is going to be a danger to a lot of people? What are they going to do about this? Will they kill an innocent child just because one person had a vision?

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fanfoolishness · 5 years

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A Candle Bright (Alistair x Brosca)

A Satinalia tale for @moonlightbrunette as part of the SC Holiday Exchange, involving Alistair, Dis Brosca, the Origins crew, a lot of mud, and a little... mistletoe?

***

Dis Brosca let out a small sigh of relief as they crested the hill overlooking Redcliffe, its largest windmill coming into view. Thin wisps of cook-smoke filtered up from the houses below, and a distinct sense of calm came over her as she noticed fishing boats going to and fro on the lake, horses and carts moving in the streets. It was very different from their first arrival, where the town had felt tense and anxious long before they had spoken to any of the villagers.

“They seem to be recovering well,” said Wynne approvingly, gazing down the half-mile path to the village square. “I see they have repaired much of the damage done by the dead. In so short a time, too. I am glad for them.”

“Sure, sure, good for them,” said Oghren, who had not visited Redcliffe before. “Real question is, how’s the ale here?”

“It’s not bad, but we’re only here for the night, Oghren,” said Dis, her breath clouding in the cold air with every word. “No Dust Town dancing.”

“What’s that, then?”

“When a stupid noble gets so drunk he wanders into Dust Town and gets robbed by every man, woman and child. Like he’s dancing with all of us, right?”

Oghren groaned. “You dusters can ruin anything fun,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“We try. Can’t let you nobles be the only ones to step on people.”

“Disgraced noble, runt, and don’t you forget it.”

Alistair glanced down at them both as they walked. “You know, I’m never quite certain if one of you is going to stab the other. Does this banter count as friendly?”

“For dwarves, it does,” assured Oghren.

“Absolutely,” said Dis, nodding.

"If you two say so,” he said as they descended into the outskirts of town. “Looks rather nicer than before, doesn’t it? Like I remember as a boy. And oh -- just look at it! They’ve even started with the Satinalia decorations!”

“The what?” Dis mouthed to Oghren, who looked as befuddled as she felt. She noticed that there were odd things strung up on the fences along the road -- paper lanterns not yet lit, boughs of thick dark green plants, bunches of red and white berries and gold ribbons tied to posts here and there. Some kind of ritual, perhaps? It didn’t look exactly magical, though.

“And what is Satinalia?” asked Morrigan from behind them. Dis considered. Not magical, then. If Morrigan didn’t know either, perhaps it was something to do with the Chantry.

Sten turned to Shale. “I am also not aware of the meaning of this word.”

“As if I would know half the things the fleshy little ones speak of,” scoffed Shale.

“Their chatter is largely forgettable. I recommend paying it little mind,” said Sten.

Leliana, bringing up the rear with Dhargus and Zevran, let out a soft gasp. “You mean that you do not know the stories of Satinalia? In Orlais, it is a time of beautiful celebration and reflection, a time to spend with friend and family alike.” The mabari woofed, a mournful dirge of a bark.

“Perhaps that is how they celebrate in Orlais, but ah, the revelry of Antiva City,” mused Zevran. “Do you know that in Antiva, men and women flood the streets completely in the nude? The debauchery is truly something to behold! And behold one does. There is great merriment and joy in that week. Of course, there is also much shame and atonement in the week following! It is a glorious time of the year.”

“So the tales of Antivan celebrations are true,” said Wynne, arching an eyebrow slyly. “I’ve always wondered.”

“Was there any doubt, my dear enchanter?”

“Is somebody going to explain what Satinalia actually is ?” asked Dis, neatly sidestepping a large mud puddle that Ogren tramped through obliviously, nearly splattering Morrigan.

While avoiding Oghren’s mud splatters, Dis still managed to catch sight of the decorations extending to the houses on either side of the path. Red candles on tin plates clustered on their small doorsteps, and boughs of evergreen hung over their front doors.

“It’s a festival!” said Alistair. “To mark the start of winter. Winter’s such a dreary affair that you’ve got to have something to brighten it up a bit, haven’t you? Hence the candles and the decorations. There’s gifts and feasting too. Last year with the Wardens we gave each other games and books and all sorts of things to keep from being too bored when there aren’t any Darkspawn around. Of course, this year we haven’t got that problem….”

“There is quite a bit more to the tradition than simple gift-giving and celebrating the start of winter,” said Wynne. “The religious significance has roots in ancient Tevinter.”

“That is true, but the meaning has changed with time. The celebration of Satinalia goes back hundreds of years. The story is quite a fascinating one, I know many ballads that I can sing for you if you like --”

“Red, if you’re singing, and I’m listening, we need ale,” said Oghren.

Shale groaned. “If that is where it and its companions are heading, I will await outside. I have noticed humans get disturbingly upset when a golem smashes through the front door. Ugh, they can be so shrill! I do not understand how something so small can make such noise.”

“Your understanding of the human condition is touching, my friend,” said Wynne. Shale let out a gravelly chortle.

“Going to have to agree with Oghren here. The inn sounds good,” said Dis, who was shivering by this point in the chill air. “For not having snow on the ground, it’s cold as a Paragon’s balls in here.”

“Cold?” questioned Zevran. “What a peculiar expression. In the usual way of things, they should be quite warm.”

“It’s a figure of speech, Zevran. Anyway, the only Paragons I’ve ever seen before Branka were made of stone, so….”

“Ah! Of course!”

***

Three ales, six hundred years of history, four ballads, and half a game-and-veg pie later, Dis thought she had Satinalia down pretty well. She hefted herself off her chair and made her way to the innkeeper’s bar, pouch of coppers in hand. She took a few long looks at the decorations lining the area, nodding to herself.

She returned feeling inordinately pleased, and laid down her new treasures on the long table before her companions. “Take your pick,” she declared.

“You persuaded the innkeeper to sell you his decorations?” mused Wynne.

“Yep!”

“How lovely!” said Leliana. “You must be feeling very festive.” She reached out and took a circlet of soft green-needled twigs, resting it atop her red hair.

“I fail to see the point of such trinkets, but your enthusiasm is almost… charming,” said Morrigan cautiously, reaching out and pinning a sprig of shiny holly to her feathered sleeve. “I suppose it is harmless enough.”

Sten coolly regarded a pair of leaf-shaped cookies wrapped in waxcloth, sneaking them to his side of the table when he thought no one was looking. Wynne took a necklace of red berries strung together, Zevran a brushy green circlet like Leliana’s, and Alistair a sprig of evergreen. He struggled with a moment getting its pin into the thick leather of his tabard.

“Let me,” Dis said from her seat beside him, and Alistair handed her the pin. She carefully poked the needle through the leather, leaning her hands against his chest. Which felt remarkably solid. Her hands lingered on his chest for a moment longer than perhaps they needed.

Was that pink in his cheeks? She pulled away from him, clearing her throat, and focused on the objects in front of her. She grabbed a tin crown painted gold. There were a few patches the paint hadn’t fully covered, but it still looked shiny and bright.

“So is this for the town fool?” Dis asked. “Isn’t that part of it, Leliana?”

“Yes,” said Leliana. “Traditionally each village nominates the town fool to rule for a day. It is a very silly custom of the celebration, but one of its most beloved.”

“Who wants to be the fool?” asked Dis.

“Alistair may not want to be, but one cannot deny he is the natural choice,” said Morrigan with a small, satisfied smile.

“Oh, very nice,” said Alistair, pretending to be miffed. “I’d say you ought to play the fool, but a crown would look rubbish on such a mean-spirited person, anyway.”

“You all would make adequate fools,” offered Sten helpfully, swallowing a bite of cookie and ignoring his ale.

“Fool, eh?” said Oghren, cocking his head to one side. “So you want me to wear what now?”

“Why, we have a volunteer!” said Wynne, raising her mug to him.

“Let us all hope he does not celebrate in the Antivan fashion,” murmured Zevran. “Though the sight would make rather a good tale one day, would it not?”

Oghren ignored the elf. The dwarf grabbed for the crown, jammed it firmly on his head, and leapt up onto his chair. Even standing, he was only a little taller than the seated Sten and Alistair. He slammed a boot onto the table’s surface and grabbed his hips, sticking out his elbows and puffing his chest in a dashing pose.

“As king, I decree we order another round and plant our asses here for the night. Who else is sick and tired of sleeping in the mud in a nug-blasted tent? And on Satinalia of all days!” he roared.

A hearty Hear hear, o King! filled the air, and the innkeeper bustled over, red in the face.

“Would you get off my table already?” he snapped.

“Ahhh, hold onto your pants,” said Oghren, hopping back down. He could be surprisingly spry at times, a fact he proved with an only slightly wobbly twirl. “Another round then. To Satinalia!”

“To Satinalia!”

The innkeeper sighed. “Another round it is, but you lot do realize Satinalia’s not for another week, don’t you?”

“To Satinalia!”

The innkeeper shook his head and groaned, clearly wondering what he had done to deserve his fate. Dis watched him go with a grin, finishing off the rest of her ale and grabbing a twist of white berries and shiny green leaves to fasten to a strap of her armor.

“Mistletoe, isn’t it?” Alistair murmured, gazing at her. Was he blushing again? Maybe it was the ale.

“What sort of plant is it? Do you eat it?” Dis asked, stretching her neck down to sniff at the berries. Disappointingly, they had no particular odor, unlike the pleasant evergreen crowns and pins.

“Maker, no, you don’t eat it! It’s poisonous,” said Alistair in a hurry. “But it’s romantic in nature. Supposed to be an invitation for ah, ah, a kiss.” Even the tips of his ears were scarlet. Ale didn’t do that.

“Oh!” said Dis, fighting a swooping sensation in her stomach. “Well, perhaps I chose wisely,” she said before she could stop herself.

“Oh!” echoed Alistair, suddenly shoving his face back into his mug and refusing to look at her. “It looks very nice on you.” A funny thing for him to say, given that he was staring at the table as hard as he could. His ears were flaming.

“Gotta go!” Dis blurted. “Need to tend to -- uh -- the dog!” She got to her feet and dashed out of the inn, circling around to the back where Shale stood, Dhargus lolling at the golem’s feet.

She certainly hadn’t expected that turn of events.

She shivered in the chilly night air, heart racing. What in stone was going on? It wasn’t like Alistair wasn’t attractive, but this… giddiness, this nervousness, she felt was entirely unlike her. Why didn’t she just tell him she wanted a roll in the dust and then move on, like she’d always done?

Maybe this means more than that. The thought came unbidden, but it felt heavy: it felt right. She blew on her hands, trying to warm them, and let the thought linger.

“Has it tired of its squishy games?” Shale asked, watching the starry skies. “Come out to keep the poor golem company?”

“It was just getting rowdy in there,” Dis explained, relieved that Shale at least would no sooner pick up on her stammering and her flushed cheeks than hug a pigeon. “Satinalia’s something else, I guess.”

“Of course. I knew it could not be coming to visit me. Ah. Here comes another of its companions now.”

Alistair edged around the corner of the building, waving at her. It was a little ridiculous, and at the same time intensely endearing. “Are you all right?”

Dis bent down so that she wasn’t looking directly at Alistair, and petted Dhargus. The dog promptly rolled into a mud puddle, his tongue hanging out the side of his gleefully open mouth. “I just came out to check on him. Thought he might be lonely. Knew that Shale wouldn’t be,” she said, chuckling.

“It knows me so well,” said Shale fondly.

“Riiiight,” said Alistair, drawing closer. He bent down as well to pet the dog, and she was acutely aware of the heat of him. “Well, if you’re all right --” He hesitated, shoving his hands under his arms to warm them. “It has gotten rather cold, hasn’t it?”

“I still don’t understand your weather. What’s the point? Why does it get so cold? Who thought rain was a good idea?” Dis rambled.

“It’s got its uses. Growing all the plants and food of the world, for one. Tends to be a bit helpful for that.”

“I agree with the small one. I despise the rain. I have been used as a shelter for shivering, sodden humans more than once,” said Shale in disdain.

Dis fell quiet for a moment, imaging herself and Alistair hiding from a storm. Perhaps in a secluded cave somewhere without the others… perhaps there would be a need to remove one’s damp clothes to dry them before the fire… and perhaps there would be --

“That mistletoe does look lovely on you,” he whispered. “It catches the moonlight.”

“I like your evergreen. It smelled so fresh. Nothing in Orzammar has ever thought of smelling like that.”

“I’m glad you think I smell nice.”

“You should be.”

They were close, now, far too close, both still crouching over the dog, their faces nearly at the same height for once. She could see all the freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, the clarity of his hazel eyes, a small scar near his forehead she’d never noticed before. She could reach out and close the distance between them, could finish this foolishness decisively with a kiss. She began to close her eyes --

THWAP!

“Oh ho!” cried Shale in delight. “I’ve smashed the dreadful thing most thoroughly!”

Alistair startled, falling over on his side with his hand in the mud puddle. Dhargus barked and rolled out of the way. “What the -- hang on, then, there aren’t any pigeons at night. You smashed an owl!”

Shale looked down at the white feathers littering the ground, then shrugged. “Do owls defecate on unsuspecting golems as they fly?”

“I suppose they could…”

“Well, so it understands.”

Dis sat there on her heels, fighting back laughter that threatened to burst out of her in gales. She stood back up to her full height, then held out a calloused hand. “Come on then, Alistair. Let’s leave Shale to it, and get you cleaned up.”

Alistair shook his head, wearing a rueful expression as she helped him clamber up. Once up, he towered over her as usual, wiping off the mud that had splattered all over him. “Perhaps Morrigan was right after all. Do you think Oghren would relinquish his crown?”

“Not without bloodshed,” Dis said with certainty. “But it could be pretty funny watching you two fight for it.”

“Fighting on Satinalia? Or, well, the week before Satinalia? Whatever would they say?”

“I dunno. Sounds like a pretty good way to spend the holiday to me.”

“You’ve a strange idea of decorum, you realize.”

“Ahh, you like that about me.”

They came back to the door of the inn, which was festooned in garlands of evergreen and mistletoe. Alistair reached over her to open the door, then paused for a moment, biting his lip as his hand rested against the door. He looked down at her, smiling, the look in his eyes soft. “Yes, I do.”

Oh, sod it all. She reached up, grabbed the edge of his collar, pulled him down to her height, and she kissed him.

It was clumsy, fleeting, warm, sweet, eager. It was perfect. It was over too soon.

Alistair straightened back up slowly, his normally olive face ruddy as anything. He opened his mouth. Tried to speak. Couldn’t come up with anything. Closed his mouth again.

“I like you too, if you’re wondering,” said Dis, trying not to giggle. Dusters didn’t giggle. Dusters didn’t kiss humans and wear mistletoe and smell evergreens beneath the stars. But she did. And she thought it suited her. “Come on then. Back to the party?”

“I -- uh, right,” said Alistair. “Yes. Very good. I -- you said you liked me?”

“Maybe Oghren does need to step down from the throne.”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” Alistair said. “I’m not really this, what’s the word, inarticulate. Just consider this me finding my bearings after a very pleasant surprise.”

“I can do that.”

He pushed open the door, and golden light and loud chatter spilled outward from the common room, filling the night air. He grinned down at her.

“Happy Satinalia, Dis.”

“A happy Satinalia to you too, Alistair.”

And they went back inside to the court of their king, the secret of the kiss burning between them, brighter than any candle.

#brosca x alistair #alistair x brosca #dragon age: origins #dragon age #da:o #satinalia #dis brosca

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basalt-dnd · 6 years

Photo

A Sandstone Colossus, because the higher CR end of my CR directory looked pretty barren. And, of course, because I got a few requests for a sand golem, so low and behold, here it is.

The image used is a no attribution required stock image, found on Pixabay. There’s a bit of lore under the cut, mostly focusing on Kain.

Twilight brought the people of Kait inside of their homes to eat. Chimneys released smoke that smelled of roasting fish, and nets were mended on narrow porches. A dwarven woman cleaned brine and blood from a cooking knife in a shallow pail, her small son sitting in the grass in front of her.

“How was the market, today? I heard that the caravans arrived,” The mother asked.

“Yeah! Pa and I saw the glassblowers setting up. They came all the way through the mountains!” Kain grinned, “They said that they’ve seen the walking sand.”

“Oh, did they now? You know who else has seen it? Your Aunt Wilhelm and I, back when we were kids.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ll tell you the story. Fetch me another pail, will you? Your sister will need to wash up when she gets home,” said Theris. So Kain went and got another pail from the house, and filled it in the creek.

When he returned he sat on a log, took in the nighttime dew, and violet clouds with a quiet wonder. His boots were covered in mud from the wet dirt. It would have been cold, if Theris had not been sitting beside him. His mother began her story as she always did.

“Now, did you ever know there was a such thing as walking sand?” Kain shook his head, as was the joke. Theris continued.

“I wouldn’t have believed it until I saw it with my own eyes, I tell you. It was a summer night and we were barely older than you. We had come in from sea with our pa, and put away the nets to dry. He sat to clean an old harpoon with that grumpy little face he always wore, and we ran off to collect fireflies.”

“We had strayed towards the path that leads up to the mountains, just out of town. Even back then, it had more bumps than a widow in a wasp hive. Aunt Wil had leaned to pick a bunch of flowers when we saw it down by the lake. A creature so large that its shadow cast over us from a field away rested on the riverbank, staring into the water. It looked like a humanoid figure, eighty or so feet tall and carved of beach stone. Bands of reds and oranges rand across its body, though it was hard to see. Of course, we could have misjudged its height. After all, we were wee little dwarves like you.”

Theris tousled Kain’s hair before continuing, a faraway look in her eyes, “It looked at us, with a face without eyes. We weren’t even afraid, nor had it occurred to us that we should be. This ancient being, a walking beach of sorts, could level a town and yet we knew it cared not. It was as gentle as low tide, somehow. My ma always said the walking sand was good luck. She said it brought fortune.”

“Do you believe that, Ma?”

“Yes, I do. I may not have gold, but I have your father, sister, and you. That’s the greatest fortune I could ask for.”

“I want to see it one day.”

“You will. It’s always there when you aren’t looking for it. When you go to catch fireflies or walk on the beach at night, keep an eye out. It’s easier to miss a colossus than you would think.”

Five or so miles away, at a sloping cove along the water, a figure stared out at the water. It was eighty feet tall, and made entirely of sedimentary rock. It was whispering something- a song, perhaps- in an ancient language. The wind took its words with a graceful ease and carried them across the coast. A low hum came from the crickets, and several crawling stones joined in murmuring the faint poem.

“A pine tree grows on an alpine hill,

A thrush builds a gentle nest,

A fish dives farther still,

I am the one that never rests.

Mortal hearts lay claim and fight,

As the catacombs hide their dust,

Only their own morals they call right,

But everything they make will surely rust.

The worthwhile creation of an hourglass,

Tells mortals how much of their life is left,

They agonize as moments pass,

And call their wasted time theft.

All these things that surely grow while I am left to erode

The sand in the bottom half of the hourglass, for me it is slowed”

#dnd #d&d #dungeons and dragons #monster #creature #elemental #golem #statblock #5e #5th edition #homebrew

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cyberkevvideo · 4 years

Text

Throne of Night - New Special Material: Gunzarak (True Mithral)

In Book 2, the (unfortunately) last published book for Throne of Night, we were introduced to the concept of “true mithral”, also known as gunzarak. It was a special processing of mithral that allowed you it to mimic some of the properties of adamantine. We even got a really interesting weapon in the form of an axe. We were also given a minimal amount of lore that this style of processing was a closely guarded secret to a specific clan of dwarves, and that its secret had long been lost over time.

Sadly, that’s all we got. It can be assumed that in Book 3, where we see the party finally find the lost dwarven city, that we would get either a sidebar or even an appendix that explained what true mithral was, and its pricing for armor and weapons. Sadly, this would not be the case. At least as of today’s entry.

Today, I’m going to give you my rundown on how I would have released it. I would like to say that I did not come about these numbers willy-nilly. I contacted some friends and acquaintances from the table top industry, who far more adept and knowledgeable at this kind of thing than I (not to mention decade long veterans) , and had them give me their opinions, then I went marketed it to more than a half-dozen players to get their take on it.

As always, for space reasons, I’ll be cropping the encounter build.

All images shared here were done by the forever fantastic and amazingly talented Michael D. Clarke, aka SpiralMagus

I do not have a Patreon or a Kickstarter, but I do have a Ko-Fi page (linked) for those who are looking to support me monetarily. There is no pressure or obligation to do so.

Finally, before I get to it, I hope everyone’s staying safe right now.

Deep within the Zaraketh Mine, after solving a dwarven puzzle, what appears to be a mithral greataxe can be found by the party. To their astonishment, it’s actually an axe made of a new special material, gunzarak.

The provided lore says: But for all the dark elves’ skill in working this strange metal, it was in the forges of Dammerhall that the dwarves learned the secret of elevating mithral to its full potential. They could create an alloy that was lighter than aluminum, stronger than adamantine, as perfect a metal as this world has ever known. This was gunzarak (in dwarvish lit. the true gift of the earth) or “true mithral”. Even the drow had never seen its equal and it was Dammerhall’s gift to the world. Even today, centuries after the last sword of true mithral was forged, many a dynasty counts among its greatest heirlooms these dwarven blades and armors.The secret of making ‘true mithral’ was lost with the fall of Dammerhall. The dwarves too jealously guarded their secret and when calamity fell, the secret was lost. Perhaps there will never again come forth a smith capable of making gunzarak. Perhaps this jewel of dwarven lore is forever beyond the kin of mortals.

As written, the magic axe reads as thus:

The Axe of Horath Rocknose Aura moderate conjuration and transmutation; CL 10th Slot --; Price 27,320 gp; Weight 6 lbs. DESCRIPTION This is a +1 keen dragon-bane greataxe made of gunzarak (true mithral). It counts as both being made of adamantine while possessing the weight reduction of mithral. For the purpose of damage reduction it is considered as both an adamantine, silver and magic weapon. CONSTRUCTION Requirements Craft Arms and Armor, creator must know the secret of working true mithral, keen edge summon monster I; Cost 13,660 gp

Given its stats, it’s obvious that this was to be a major boon in Book 3. It can also be assumed that if the axe is shown to the stone golem blocking the secret passageway to Dammerhall, that’s part of the key needed for bypassing the guardian.

From a designer stance, this item has a few issues in the math and wording, but that’s okay. What’s important is that you can still discern its capabilities and what the author was trying to convey when he made it.

With what’s provided, and a little reverse engineering, we are able to deduce that, theoretically, gunzarak is worth 775 gp/lb. This is a little more than 1.5x what mithral costs (500 gp/lb.). That sounds reasonable enough.

Over the past month, I’ve had multiple discussions with some fellow game designers, as well as a bunch of players that I know. The reason being is designing special materials is a balancing act that many aren’t very good at. The conversations went from “treat this like a magic item and make the lowest cost be 1.5x the price and add the highest base, or at least add an additional percentage to the total price” to “adamantine in Pathfinder 1e and 3.5 was overpriced, so unless that gets fixed, you won’t get a proper price for this material.” What was also mentioned was that it was nice that this replicated both mithral and adamantine as a whole, like a magic item, what was special about it? What made it its own material that people would covet? Sure it was both mithral and adamantine, but you could find magic items that would made things better and cheaper, or even psionic powers or spells that could do it better, for cheaper, and not have any sort of weaknesses short of being dispelable. “True silver”, another special material (from Paizo), is processed to the point it was immune to rusting effects, so why wouldn’t true mithral have something similar, if not exactly the same? Again, all valid arguments.

In the end, after all the conversations had completed, this ended up being the final numbers and abilities. As such, I’d recommend the additional property be added to the axe in Book 2.

Gunzarak (True Mithral) Mithral that's been masterfully refined and processed, making it lighter than aluminum and stronger than adamantine. Armor: Heavy and medium armor are treated as one category lighter. ACP is reduced by 3 (to a minimum of 0), Dex bonus is increased by 2, and ASF is reduced by 10%. Grants untyped damage reduction 1/— (light), 2/— (medium), 3/— (heavy) Weapons: Ignore hardness of less than 20. Considered adamantine and silver with regards to bypassing DR. Special: Always considered masterwork. Immune to rusting effects. Hardness 20; Hit Points 30 per inch Armor Costs: Light (+6,000 gp), Medium (+15,000 gp), Heavy (+22,000 gp) Weapons and other items: 775 gp/lb.

It shouldn’t need explanation, but just in case, “rusting effects” include that of rusting monsters and the rusting grasp spell. Also, true mithral isn’t adamantine, even if it counts as such, so it won’t have the same ‘hit points per inch’.

I know that some people are going to argue that it’s way too cheap, but it’s honestly not. Adamantine is way too overpriced, and you fail a single save against a rusting effect and that PC is out their armor. Not to mention, given any other price point, you’re better off taking mithral armor and wearing a belt of Con for the additional hit points or something that can regenerate your heal in some way. Anything else would just be considered a waste of money. I know, the players I talked to schooled me pretty hard in that regard, and broke down the math. Not to mention, if you allow 3PP products in home games, a psychic warrior with the biofeedback power has DR 2/— for 1 minute/level, and can augment that to make it even higher. If you can turn that same power into a permanent magic item, it costs 8,000 gp to buy, but only 4,000 gp to make. It’s about being practical with your money at higher level, and crafting items takes a long time when it’s in the high, high thousands.

That said, if you feel it should be significantly higher, like say: Light armor +6,500; Medium +16,000; and Heavy +28,500 gp, which were the original prices I was suggested to go with, then so be it, but don’t be surprised if the party tries to sell the items for something cheaper and more practical, and bank the rest of the gold. Even more so if they’re playing with the kind of GM who is very strict about the wealth table, and being even 1 gold piece over it means you’re “broken” and no longer allowed an allowance until such time that you become high enough level to earn gold again. And, yes, those GMs absolutely exist, and players take that into consideration when it comes to their purchases. I will mention that my original prices were actually lower (14k and 20k for medium and heavy), but I was quickly talked out of it.

Again, this is what the decision came to be after multiple conversations with fellow TTRPG game designers (most having previously worked for Paizo) and players who’ve all played in very confining and restricted wealth games. In the end, we were all able to walk away happy. I have absolutely no idea how much Gary originally intended this material to cost, and I’m more than curious, but he had connections with Paizo as well (namely the director and lead designer, Jason Bulmahn), so it’s possible that our numbers aren’t all that different.

Segway: For anyone curious what a more practical cost for adamantine would be, Purple Duck Games published it as 750 gp for light weapons, 1500 gp for one-handed, and 3000 gp for two-handed. Armor was 4000, 8000, and 12000, respectfully. When it came to gunzarak, it was quoted as likely being 6000, 12000, and 18000 for the different armors. Weapons would probably start at 800 gp, to make it more of a round number, and different from adamantine. Mithral was also dropped to 350 gp for light weapons, 700 for one-handed, and 1400 for two-handed. Armor was 1000, 2000, and 3000. It sounds cheap, but the new Pathfinder 1.5 system they developed removed arcane spell failure.

Getting back to the original subject though, in Book 3, the party was supposed to discover the art of how to process the mithral, and I would bet that like in Book 2, the axe the PCs find is a key to a safe or another puzzle, that has that exact formula for how they’d do it. As to what that process is, I’ll leave it up to the GM. Their game, their rules. They would know best how it should be done in their own home games in their own home world.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

With that, the “Throne of Night” AP is complete. At least for now. All the known monsters have been identified and given stats (or linked to stats), the gunzarak is fleshed out a little more, an alternate race (that we should have seen in Book 3) was provided, a couple of extra monsters were added for additional encounters, more items were designed or showcased, and Mike’s fantastic art was shown off. Not to mention an entire AD&D adventure converted to Pathfinder 1e to help anyone finish their game without having to rely on books that don’t exist, and still give the AP some sense of finality. If there’s any more than that, I’ll do them as they come by may. At the very least, there’s more than enough to do your own game and give it a respectful ending.

If anything more if required, I made a resource page and posted a link on the Paizo forum for everyone to access. It has all of the relevant posts, additional adventures that could be used, suggestions and ideas from other GMs who homebrewed the rest of their own game, etc. A treasure trove of information for anyone needing it.

I thank everyone for coming with me on this journey.

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calamity-writes · 7 years

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Glory & Gore - 02

[ part 1 ]

After a week on the ship with only limited exercise, Rahlen's whole body ached. When they'd marched the 'cargo' above decks and onto the docks, Rahlen's bad leg had flared in such a knot that he'd nearly fallen onto Hanin. He hadn't been the only one struggling, the prince had realised.

One of the Avaar men fainted in the heat mid-march through the city. His tribesmen were made to carry the unconscious man until the lot of them arrived at the main city square. A wooden platform was erected along one side of the square, while stalls selling food, clothing and more filled much of the remainder. A crowd of well dressed Tevinter men and women waited by the platform, many with servants fanning them to keep cool in the oppressive heat.

Rahlen found himself wishing that his education on Tevinter went beyond the First Enchanter's contempt for magisters, and included geographical study so he could figure out where the hell he was. Rahlen squinted up at the bright-stone buildings around him, but something deep in his gut kept pulling his attention to the wooden platform the slavers were leading them towards.

It was a permanent fixture. In Ferelden, Orlais, this might have been a stage for travelling plays, or musicians come to entertain for solstice. Here...

It was a slave market, and the platform where slaves were auctioned off... was permanent. Rahlen felt a little ill at the realisation. There were elves in the crowd, but each wore a collar. Some gilded, some battered and heavy, but every elf in the Square was a slave.

"Take the Princeling elf and the Ferelden giant off the line," the Templar slaver said. Favus, the man's name was Favus. Rahlen had listened and learned quite a bit on the travel to here. Wherever here was. "Master Polonius has a special buyer for those two. Sell the rest as usual."

Surprised, but wary, Rahlen glanced over at the 'princeling elf'. Hanin had grown quiet over the last week, but it was a seething sort of quiet. Anger was good, it would keep the elf from giving up. And who knew, maybe the Inquisition was already riding north on Tevinter to find the heir. Maybe the Hero of Ferelden was calling on Grey Warden allies to find where her own son had disappeared to.

That sick feeling returned as Rahlen watched a guard undo Rahlen's shackles from the line of chain. Who was riding to Fenlin's rescue? Was she just gone? Disappeared into Tevinter like any of the Imperium's countless elven slaves? That wasn't right. It wasn't fair, that she'd saved his life, brought him somewhere that was supposed to be safe, and now because of him, she was somewhere in this Maker-forsaken place. Who knew if he'd be able to find her again?

But he had to. She'd saved him, he wasn't about to abandon her when she needed help in return.

"Follow me," one of the guards said. The other stood behind them, sword drawn. Rahlen nodded. He glanced at Hanin, trying to warn the elf not to try anything. As much as Rahlen wanted to break free of the Maker damned shackles and make a run for it, his leg would hardly let him do so. Better to wait, find a more opportune-

"Magister Bastards," Hanin leapt at the nearest guard, fingers glowing with the start of a spell. Rahlen winced as a clap of thunder and flash of bright light lit up Hanin's Collar. The elf fell to the cobblestone ground, his entire body flexed tight as the collar delivered it's painful shock.

"Had enough, slave?" the guard Hanin had leapt at sneered. "Get on your feet, if you can't walk, Master Polonius sees no reason to keep you and you'll get sold to the cheap fleshhouses."

The collar spat a last few sparks before it returned to it's dormant state. Rahlen held his palms up to the guard when the Tevinter man's gaze swung to him. They'd enchanted the collars then, to discharge an electric shock when the wearer tried to cast a spell. Good information to know, even if it was at Hanin's expense.

"Fuck you," Hanin spat, voice hoarse. The crowd glanced over, but already some were back to bidding on the Avaar. As though this scene was routine, not even worth a second glance.

"C'mon, let's just go see what this Polonius wants. Hopefully it's to apologize and give us access to a bath and a razor." Rahlen held out a hand to Hanin, trying not to think about how itchy his chin was. He had a week's worth of growth on his face. It was... itchy.

"Listen to your friend, elf," the guard said. "This is better than you deserve."

Rahlen helped Hanin back to his feet, and brushed off some pebbles that had stuck to his shoulder.

"Maybe we should do what they say?" Rahlen said, the look he gave the elf was pointed. Later, they could figure a way to undo the collars, and get away. But Right now, neither of them was in shape to put up a fight.

Fenlin doubled over, resting her fists against her thighs. In each hand was a dagger, blades weighted wood to build up strength. Across from her, the trainer Polonius had brought her to, sneered down at her. Tall, muscular, the Tevene woman stood at least half a foot taller than the elf did.

"What do you think, Cresca?" Polonius asked, standing in the shade, sipping on a glass of wine.

"I think your fondness for knife ears is showing," the woman said. "But this one does know how to fight," she added reluctantly. "Though it is clear she has not had to for some time. Not successfully, at any rate." The woman looked pointedly at the scar along Fen's side, bared in the... excuse of an outfit that Polonius had given her. Mostly straps and cloth, it bared her entire torso, offering only 'strategic' hardened leather as bracers and greaves. They'd also stuck one of those damn orlesian masques on her. It only covered the top half of her face, but it made the heat worse.

"Do you think she'll be ready in time for the festival next week? I would love to have something unique to show the crowd, and perhaps impress the visiting Houses."

Fenlin listened, but kept her eyes on the woman, in case she came at her again with that damn sword and shield.

"That's in less than a week," Cresca said, turning to look at Polonius with a frown.

"It is, but I have some motivation arriving shortly," Polonius said. "Her friends. One needs healing before we can begin training and the other might not be suited for anything other than dying, but if she fails to impress at the festival, I'll sell both to the Seheron front."

Fenlin finally looked directly at Polonius, eyes widening. Even she knew what Seheron was. The main battleground between the Qun and Tevinter. Although smaller fronts had opened over the years, the main force, and the main bloodshed was on that blasted island.

Fenlin shook her head firmly. She straightened and tapped her fist against her chest. She would do everything she could to keep the prince and heir alive. She had somehow risked Rahlen again, failed in stopping them from being caught. It was her fault they were here, and she would find a way to get them all out. She just needed to keep them, and herself, alive.

"Fine," Cresca said, scowling. "Come at me again girl, and see if you can't actually score a hit this time."

Athim sat among the other gladiators in the shaded mess area, watching two humans argue about which had a better chance of fighting as the headliner in the coming festival against Athim. If he had to pick, it would have been the lighter one, slightly smaller, faster, but the crowd liked the larger one's showmanship. It would be up to Polonius and the trainers to decide.

Speaking of training, Athim sighed and leaned back against the cool limestone wall, peering at the hedge that hid his view of the main practice yard. He'd much rather be out there, practicing, but Polonius had kicked them out for the newest arrival's assessment and initial training.

"I bet it's a Qunari, one of them Tal Vashoth," a Rivani corsair said between bites of bread. Mute, don't speak to no one."

Rumours had started running wild when the gladiators realised that the only voices heard were Cresca's and Polonius's. The new slave, whoever they were, hadn't made a single sound. No shouting, no arguing, no grumts of pain.

"Nah, it's a golem. Control rods keep the things from talking," one of the dwarves said. The other one glared at the first, then shook her head.

"You'd have felt the golem coming you idiot," she said. "They shake the ground when they walk."

"Oh, righ-"

The iron door to the barracks opened with a clang. Two guards dragged a struggling elf through the doorway and threw him to the ground. he'd been dressed in the same linen trousers they all wore, though his hair had been left longer than the other gladiators'.

Athim watched as the elf shoved himself up to his feet, and tried to jump towards the guards. He received the butt of a spear to his abdomen for his attempt, and the clang of the door as the guards retreated behind it, back into the barracks.

"Not a Qunari," the Rivani said sadly. "Damnit."

Athim stood, brushing sand from his hands, and walked over to greet the new comer who was now pounding a fist on the door.

"You'll get bored of that pretty quick," Athim said, crossing his arms and leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb. "There's not much point."

The white haired elf, skin pink and angry from Tevinter's harsh sun, looked at him, blue eyes swollen and red.

"They don't know who I am!" he said, teeth bared. "They're treating me like some kind of-"

"Slave?" Athim said with a wink. "Because you are mate, we all are." He gestured at the rest of the gladiators in the mess. "But we're a bit luckier than the run of the mill slaves, I guess."

"I'm not a slave," Hanin said, scowling. "I'm the son of the Inquisitor."

"I'm the hero of Ferelden!" piped up one of the dwarves.

"Aye, I'm th' prince of Starkhaven himself," the Rivani added, and the gladiators burst into laughter.

"They don't care," Athim said, patting the elf on the shoulder kindly. "I'm Athim. Do you have an actual name? Or just go by 'the son of the inquisitor'?"

"Hanin," the man said with a wince as Athim patted his sunburn. "Just... Hanin. I came here with another man, Rahlen, but he's hurt. They are'nt going to..." he trailed off.

Aw, Athim thought. He'd come with his lover. That was sweet.

"No, Polonius patches us up pretty well, he prefers to have us in fighting form. If your man was hurt, the Master's probably patching him up before he starts training."

Hanin looked around at the others, possibly for the first time.

"Training for what?" He asked.

"Fighting," Athim said with a grin. "You're at a Gladiator school. Of course, you don't get to graduate, you either win enough to earn freedom or you die, but," he shrugged.

"A-" Hanin said, staring at Athim. "You die?"

"Not him," the Rivani said, walking over and clapping a hand on Athim's shoulder. "He's the star. Vints love them some elf. You, if you can fight, maybe you'll be the one to kill him, yeah?" the corsair grinned, showing off a few 'golden' teeth.

"I know how to fight," Hanin said, squaring his shoulders.

"Which is why you lost a fight against two guards just now, right?" Athim said with a dry laugh. "Come on, you should eat, and drink. Training's going to start this evening. Maybe your friend will be healed by then."

#Rahlen #Hanin #Athim #Fenlin #gladiator au #in glory & gore

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