Monthly Archives: June 2012

The Syndromes of Cities

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So there’s Paris syndrome, Jerusalem syndrome and Stendahl syndrome, which is linked to the city of Florence. Think about the madnesses cities impart on their visitors: hallucinations, derealization, obsessive ideas and more.

In a role-playing game, a city may have a very palpable effect on people foreign to its bounds. The citizens seems perfectly normal, but they are acclimated to the conditions. The traveler cannot handle the city’s influence and their mind cracks under the pressure. Or the citizens seem mad to the outsiders, but their perceptions and actions are perfectly normal by local standards. Slowly the visitor finds themselves slipping into a matching perspective and modes of behavior.[1]

It can go both ways. The city may affect its people, but the people affect the city. If the population changes enough, the character of the city changes. We see that in real life all the time as large scale population change affects the culture and tone of a community. In a role-playing game, that change could be more visibly expressed in the metamorphosis of a city’s genius loci — or City Fathers, as Werewolf: the Apocalypse called them — or even a struggle between different entities, a la the Invisible Clergy of Unknown Armies. Imagine if every city had its own pantheon of City Fathers, expressing different aspects of the community. As the population changes, so the influence of those spirits rises and falls.

[1] That particularly reminds me of Al-Amarja from Over the Edge. The citizenry have any number of curious practices, like nooses for neckties. The people who stay there long enough start to assimilate, intentionally or otherwise.

Companions of the Firmament on Kickstarter

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It’s been all Pathfinder in my role-playing life, lately. Two on-going adventure paths and now my friend Neil has launched a Kickstarter campaign to fund Companions of the Firmament, a Pathfinder supplement for flying mounts, flying characters and aerial options.

Lucky for you, the project’s already funded, so you can climb on board knowing you’ll get a nice reward no matter what. If you want to hear more about the project first, I interviewed Neil this week over on Carnagecast. Neil also talks about the preparatory work he did for Companions of the Firmament, including conducting the Kickstarter role-playing game study that he released a few months ago.

Check it out!

[Carrion Crown] Schloss Caromarc

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Trial of the Beast coverThis week in Carrion Crown, a Dan (Auberon Crane),[1] Geoff (Andris Kreitov), Toby (Solis Lightwarden and his eidolon Gea) and Tyler (Alexandros Callimachi) and GM Hunter took a moment to catch their breath from the breakneck pace at which business concluded in the previous session.

The body of their fallen comrade twitches, then begins to drag along the ground in some cruel parody of Horace joining the retreat. It is, of course, the unseen Solis doing his best. The hound seems perplexed as to how its kill is moving, but the eidolon keeps it sufficiently occupied for Solis to get Gunderson’s mortal remains away and place them in the care of Callimachi as he makes for the safety of the factory.

The third day of the trial passes in a blur. Callimachi has to step up as the lead junior justice defender in the absence of Horace. He is rough-mannered in his attempt at oratory, but what he presents does much of the work. The heap of evidence from the chemical factory not only shows the Beast was never at Karb Isle, but puts the testimony of previous days into question, such as the mongrel man suit with wounds matching those as described as being inflicted by the Beast by a blood caiman. Grine hollowly confirms much of it, assenting to every charge laid at his and Vorkstag’s feet. Without his master, the dark creeper seems to have lost any spark of life. By the end of the proceedings, the gallery is in an uproar at the effrontery of this motley assortment of wanderers in disproving the incontrovertible guilt of the Beast.

The triumvirate of judges elect to recess for the day to consider the torrent of new evidence before them. The next morning, the courtroom is packed with more onlookers than seems possible. The judges are brief. Given the evidence presented by the defense, it’s clear everyone involved has been saved from a tremendous miscarriage of justice. Even as the crowd rages, the Beast is released from custody and escorted from the courthouse.[2]

At the edge of the city, where the Dimplemire Swamp begins, the Beast turns and acknowledges his defenders for the first time: “Father… doesn’t much like visitors… but… come… visit. Soon. Soon, come see me at… Schloss… Caromarc.”

“Did we — ? Did it — ? Did we just get snookered by a golem?”
— Alexandros Callimachi

Callimachi is rather non-plussed that the Beast has chosen now to start forming complete sentences. Everyone else is somewhat choked up at the flesh golem wades into the reeds, rapidly disappearing from sight completely.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. The investigators meet Judge Daramid at home, where she transfers the payment for the rendering of their services in ferreting out the truth about the Beast’s guilt. While there, they cross paths with a human who’s very interested i the final disposition of Grine, currently in the custory the Lepidstadt city guard. The three who’ve dealt most recently with Grine try to disabuse the stranger of this notion, but he is unflagging in his resolve to attempt to save Grine’s soul, as he’ll surely be executed for his crimes. He introduces himself as Auberon Crane, a traveler from Absalom who came to observe the trial of the Beast. Shaking hands in greeting, everyone notices the day lily tattooed on his palm.

Leaving Daramid’s home together, the four see an angry-seeming crowd hustles by, being not at all subtle about its intention of following the Beast to Schloss Caromarc to ambush it en route.[3] This doesn’t sit at well with the people who just watched some die in the creature’s defense and Auberon’s not too down with mob justice in general. Additionally, Count Caromarc sounds like an interesting customer, what with crafting flesh golems and other servants, living atop a cascading waterfall and being one of the few nobles in Ustalav to abdicate his title in the face of the democratization of the northwestern counties.

The group splits up to take care of some shopping, now that they’re flush with cash. Crane visits Grine in his cell. The dark creeper is reluctant to forsake his faith in Norgorber, no matter how grim a picture of the afterlife Crane paints for him. Grine seems mildly thoughtful as Crane departs, at least.

Reconvening after scouring the market and shops of cunning artificers, purses are lighter and backpacks heavier. Callimachi’s step is noticeably lighter thanks to the rustic haversack he sports. Thus provisioned, the four strike out on the road to Schloss Caromarc. Kreitov leads the way, taking the most common route of a road that skirts the Dimplemire Swamp. Unlike the Beast, the adventurers can’t slog their way across the bottom of the swamp without breathing.

It’s a two day journey, even by horse. Early morning finds Callimachi and Crane competing in their dawn-time devotions. Stripped to his breech clout, Crane shows off a great deal more flower tattoos, including the sunflower, beloved of Sarenrae.

Midday finds the travelers entering a rocky gorge. They hear the thundering cataracts long before they come into sight. And what they spy is even more staggering: an enormous manse leaning out over the waterfall, thousands of gallons of water cascading over the precipice to the river below. Jutting out from the waterfall, there’s a tower with rather interesting stained glass windows and another, taller spire reaching up from a rocky crag in the midst of the torrent.

Before them, however, is a stout gatehouse, blocking the only means of access to the manor proper. It’s closed up tight with no sign of occupation, save the pair of troll hounds guarding the front gate. Count Caromarc’s reputed to have a number of curious creatures in his employ. All the same, weapons are readied as Crane and Callimachi approach. The troll hounds catch their scent, beginning to howl. As the two approach closer, they rush forward. One hound knocks Callimachi completely off his feet while Auberon tussles with the second.

Then the trolls appear on the gatehouse parapets. They hurl boulders down, as trolls are wont to do, while goblins caper around their feet. Once the troll hounds are dealt with, the travelers briefly toy with advancing toward the gate. An even bigger troll clambers up on the gatehouse roof. It begins the laborious process of cocking and loading what might be a siege-grade ballista. The huge troll is completely unfazed by the spiritual weapon Alexandros casts before it; the cut it leaves closes almost immediately. Once Gea confirms the gate is soundly barred, everyone assents to Kreitov’s increasingly impassioned suggestion they fall back to consider their options.

Under cover of the rocky landscape, the group concocts a plan. First, Kreitov and Callimachi scour the countryside for comestibles and fuel. Andris comes back with a brace of coneys; Callimachi finds some swamp plants suitable for binding into torches and something that will double as smokesticks. Further, Andris reports running across the tracks of the Beast. It seems he trudged out of the swamp, watched Schloss Caromarc from cover long enough for his enormous feet to settle rather deeply into the group, then turned around and went right back into the swamp with no indication of where it went from there.

Over a quick meal, options are discussed. With the trail of the Beast gone cold, there is still the pressing issue of Count Caromarc. He and his household may besieged, imprisoned or otherwise imperiled by whatever force to which these trolls belong. So a plan of attack is devised. They also have time to reflect on the oddity of multiple trolls working together. Trolls are typically solitary creatures, from what the group mind knows about their habits. What could bring them together to do something as orderly as guard a gatehouse?

Once night falls, Solis renders everyone invisible. Using the rope of climbing as a guide, they move as one across the open expanse to the gatehouse, scale the side with the rope, then descending to the first level to scout out and deal with any threats. To that extent, the plan works perfectly.

Reaching the gatehouse parapet, Andris finds a lone goblin passing the night by throwing small rocks at larger rocks. He cursorily slits the creature’s throat — becoming visible in the act — which leads to an extended exchange about the morality of killing the enslaved of evil creatures between the rough hunter and Crane while the rest of the party dangles from the rope below. Once everyone has ascended, they take stock from the new vantage point.

On the far side of the gatehouse, leading to the bridge and the manse beyond, there’s at least one troll guarding it — from approaches from the manse? In the distance, they glimpse what can only be another flesh golem hound at the doors of the manor house. Gea slithers down below to scope out the interior of the gatehouse. It’s a regular den of trolls, with goblins cowering in corners.

With the duration of the invisibility spell ticking down for everyone but Andris, who must be feeling rather exposed at this point, the next step is clearly using the element of surprise to catch the trolls off their guard. Solis proposes lobbing a thunderstone into the center of the ground floor. The trolls will run upstairs to check. While they’re hampered by the narrow turns of the spiral staircases, the adventurers can spring upon them unseen to get the drop. Auberon points out the importance of keeping the slaves alive so they might be saved, which may or may not sink in with everyone else at the moment.

[1] With Sir Horace gone to his great reward, Dan seized the opportunity to bring a new character into the story, who will join the action shortly.

[2] Which will never be renamed the Horace Gunderson Memorial Palace of Justice, much to Dan’s regret.

[3] Because apparently we are still not done with this damn module. I was really hoping we would move on from the trevails of this beleaguered flesh golem lacking in personality.

[4] Which led to the tidbit that tattoos on the palm require regular touch-up work, according to Toby. The cells there wear away pretty rapidly in the course of daily life.

[Skull & Shackles] Capturing Man’s Promise

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Skull & Shackles: The Wormwood Mutiny CoverThis week in Skull & Shackles, Eric (Felix Cailean), Joey (Lady Viola Leona Eudonius), John (Jetsam ibn Abbasid ibn Yunus al-Bhar), Tyler (Morley Bishop) and GM Luke met up for another rousing session of piracy and mismatched expectations of pressganged sailors.

In the days after the recovery of the magical armor, the atmosphere aboard Wormwood changes for the wayward sailors who brought the prize aboard. Interactions with more members of the crew have a little air of respect to them. Some senior officers allow themselves to seem slightly impressed — others are disconcerted by the success of unruly deckhands. When he claims the armor, Captain Harringan is typically curt and unemotive, but he does speak, which is rather big for the man who’s number one rule is “Don’t talk to me.” The triumphant salvage team even gets to partake of the fresh crab haul, which is the real bonus, all things culinary considered.

After giving some consideration to the state of interpersonal affairs aboard ship, Morley does some digging with Croup and Cutthroat Grok about the officers’ meals and drink. In the course of conversation, Croup munificently bestows his greasy, stained chef’s hat on his favorite cook’s mate, which Morley promises to treasure for as long as he wears it. Maybe it’s not quite the hat Morley was looking for back in Port Peril, but it’s a start.

What it comes down to is Grok goes for a stroll, Morley rustles up that bottle of Chelaxian brandy secured some time back and brings Tilly Bracket in, as she chortles at the opportunity, to perform some “seasoning.” Handily resealed, the bottle goes up on the shelf, prominent among the officers’ stock. Some time later, the bottle disappears from the shelf and so far as anyone knows, was heartily consumed one evening.[1]

“You’ve made it through worse. Chances are you will again.”
“Your bedside manner is atrocious.”
— Felix and Viola

Feeling poorly about tangling with the lacedon, Viola goes to Quarney the sawbones, who expresses something that might be a mild level of concern for the well-being of the crew as he informs her there’s a good chance she contracted ghoul fever from the encounter. He prescribes grog, bunk rest and an overnight watch, lest the fever take her as she sleeps and she rises as a ghoul to prey on the crew. This does nothing to make Viola feel better about her prospects. Sandra Quinn and Felix both drop by to lend a magical hand and take shifts on the night watch by her bunk. By dawn, Viola’s fever has broken and she can be reasonably confident of not devolving into a lacedon.

“Quite a misunderstanding, them having our cargo.”
— Jetsam al-Bhar

The next morning, Lt. Krine cusses and bawls the crew into order. Now that Wormwood has the navigation chart of Man’s Promise, so kindly provided by Vern the rescued Ulfen sailor, “their cargo” is out there, just waiting to be claimed. The crew has to get into shape for boarding actions. Crewmen swim out to the boat alongside the ship, where they cast grapples to the railing and shin up the rope. Adding an element of piscine spice are the buckets of fish heads thrown by overenthusiastic crew lined along the railings. Jetsam especially gets into the spirit of pelting his comrades fish guts while Viola struggles up the rope. Felix takes one fish head straight in the mouth, which may possibly overpower the taste of the midday gruel. One hit knocks Viola completely off the line, driving Krine to apoplexy.

When it’s Jetsam and Bishop’s turn to board the ship, they do a bit better. Viola only briefly toys with the notion of cutting the lines as the pair ascend. Felix deliberately aims his fish heads low to avoid Viola, who grimly remounts her struggle to board the ship.[2] When all is said and done, for all her bluster and insults, Lt. Krine may be one of the most positive, supportive officers on the Wormwood — which is a disquieting thought.

“I’m wearing my good dress.”
“You have a wardrobe now?”
— Viola and Jetsam

The days continue to slip by. The prospects of of conflict and captured booty capture everyone’s attention. From the perspective of the four recruits from Port Peril, the crew seems to continue to polarize into “us versus them.” Viola strikes up a conversation with the most flamboyantly dressed of the crew, the gnome Shortstone, sensing there might be an ally here in her quest to create a better-dressed sort of pirate. Nothing comes of the exchange as Viola realizes that Shortstone may have an ulterior motive to sympathizing with her proposal.

One morning, Mr Plugg greets them on deck with a grin that’s too wide to bode anything good. He assigns the four permanent duties: al-Bhar on the main sail, Cailean hauling rope, Bishop in the galley and Eudonius to maintain the bilges. Permanent assignment to the most onerous tasks to be found on a ship bodes no good indeed. Later, Plugg and Scourge a personal visit to Viola in the bilges, ensuring that everything “is ready.” But ready for what? Will the bilges play that big a role in the combat between Wormwood and Man’s Promise?

When Viola receives a second set of visitors in the bilge, Phipps and Slippery Sill, she can see where this is going — particularly when Phipps and Sill draw the knives concealed about their persons. Phipps may have started the fight, but Viola beats them both to the draw. With nothing but her bare hands and a few stray items floating in the bilgewater, Viola knocks out Phipps, then Sill. She lashes them both to the ladder so as not to drown in the effluent, then goes to find Felix.

“You see, they’re sort of unconscious. They may have banged their heads.”
— Viola Eudonius

Once he confirms no one’s died, Cailean’s chosen coolly distances himself from the affair. He suggests Viola tell Plugg herself what’s happened. It’s an unexpected move from Felix which throws Viola for a loop. Who’s going to cover her ass if not Felix? When she goes to Plugg, Mr. Scourge is sent to investigate. The report comes back that they’re dead by stabbing. Viola is imprisoned in the sweat box, with a promise of keel hauling to come.

The crew is rocked by the news — particularly because it makes so little sense. Jack Scrimshaw quietly confirms that he saw both Phipps and Sill down in the bilge, alive and uncut, where Viola left them lashed. Tilly and Quinn both corroborate other parts of Viola’s story. Morley brings the question of who stands to gain from Viola’s death? She’s “just” a deckhand. But there is also the reverse question: who would want Viola to take the fall for two murders? Phipps and Sill may have been sent as lambs to the slaughter, as much as to do away with Viola.

All the questions have to be put to the side for the moment, as the lookout spies a mast on the horizon. The call is made to beat to stations. Everyone grabs their gear and stands ready. Even Viola is released from the sweat box, because all able hands are needed. Pigs are slaughtered and made ready for deployment to put blood in the water. It’s a lengthy chase as the Ulfen ship puts oars in the water, but Wormwood steadily gains on Man’s Promise. With an arcane eye, Bishop recognizes there’s powerful sea-going magic about the Wormwood, particularly in the sails.

As Wormwood pulls abreast, Lt. Krine calls Felix, Jetsam, Viola and Bishop together. Their task is to board, hold the ship’s wheel and not allow any crew to escape in the boats. Man’s Promise starts launching missiles, but a cloud of fog rolls in from nowhere, enveloping the ships completely. As it does, they glimpse for just a moment Peppery Longfarthing on the bridge, making the arcane gestures that called up the impossible fog. It’s still in the fog. Noise doesn’t travel. One can only see a few feet away, not knowing what might be right there.

Once the boarding planks drop, everyone rushes to the fore. Felix leads the way across the plank. Viola leaps the gap. Morley gets cold feet and needs several run-ups before he actually clamber across using Croup’s magic grapnel. Jetsam . . . oh, Jetsam. That hardy sailor, that master of the rigging, he misses a step and falls toward the drink. He grabs the trailing grapnel line, at least, and starts climbing back up as he’s dragged through the chummy waters. Then the fins break the surface of the water. The sharks have found the chum.

Ulfen sailors swarm out of the fog, besetting Felix and Viola. Once he’s finally across, Morley joins the fray. Down in the water, Jetsam seethes about all the things he might have been instead of a sailor as he struggles to ascend the trailing line. He falls further back. Fortunately there’s more trailing line to grab.

Despite the fog limiting vision, limiting its use at range, Morley readies his under-utilized whip and trips an unwary sailor. Bishop and Cailean fall into a pattern of flanking enemies, astonishing them with displays of martial prowess and wearing them down. Cailean always chooses nonlethal tactics, often throwing his rapier from hand to hand to free up a fist to the jaw.

Running back from having found Quinn in the fracas — who’s rather taken away with the whole affair and swings off into the rigging — Viola falls between the ships. She catches hold of a line, dangling precariously over the sharks as they close on Jetsam below. Sandra Quinn joins the battle for the wheel, knocking one enemy clear over the railing. She lands in the water and a shark neatly snaps her in half mere feet from Viola, who starts shrieking at the spray of gore. Motivated by this object lesson in food chains, Jetsam keeps struggling forward.

The battle fares rather better on deck. Sailors start yielding in the face of Felix’s grim determination to punch the living daylights out of anyone who comes close. Quinn keeps the deck locked down with a pack of summoned dogs. Another fallen sailor clambers right over Viola, eager to get away from the water. Will she have the presence of mind to cut the rope as she regains her feet?

“I’m not going to fight a fucking shark.”
— Jetsam

There’s plenty of action at sea level, mind you. Jetsam finds himself awash in red sea foam. Then a stray foot alerts him to what’s happening up ahead, below the aft of Man’s Promise. Resigning himself to the notion, Jetsam slashes at the shark. He hollers for someone to pull him, but the plaintive cry is lost in the din. Three sharks swarm below now. Viola adds her voice to the cry for help.

At last, the battle is won. Viola and Jetsam get a hand up from their predicament.[4] The prisoners are lined up and receive the traditional introduction to Captain Harringan. Rewards are passed out for those who fought bravely, including a casket of goods to the salvagers of the armor of freedom of movement. Plugg glowers resentfully, as though he expected things to go rather differently.

“Lemme tell you ’bout my day.”
— Viola is very drunk

That night, Jetsam and Viola in particular drink heavily, dispirited by missing out on the boarding action. Quinn and Felix tangle over theology; the follower of Besmara runs rings around Cailean. Viola broods, preoccupied by the sight of the sailor bitten in half before her eyes. Jetsam goes bartering for more booze, he’s so despondent.

The next day is one of day. The following brings change. The captain announces that a skeleton crew will bring Man’s Promise into Port Peril. Those Ulfen who weren’t worth a ransom will crew Wormwood under the watchful eyes of the senior officers, while Mr. Plugg leads Man’s Promise into harbor with much of the “regular” crew. Indeed, when the assignments shake out, it’s almost as if everyone the four from Port Peril came to know in the last three weeks are assigned to the Ulfen ship with them. Having already labored under Mr. Plugg’s supervision, no one has any illusions about this being a pleasure cruise.

[1] In spite of having a much better Disable Device check at level 2, Morley was outdone by someone with keener eyes. But it wasn’t traced back to the perpetrator, and that’s the main point: getting away with things.

[2] Some nights, you just can’t roll well ever, as we’ll see later in the evening, too.

[3] It worked! Morley’s got a long whip-wielding, tripping future planned out and I was concerned it would go tits-up first thing. The fog limiting vision was an unfortunate complication, meaning he had to fall back to his rapier or deal with attacks of opportunity every time he tripped someone adjacent to him.

[4] See what I meant about bad rolls, back in note [2]? Joey and John spent all or most of the damn combat flubbing climb checks to get back up on deck. It sucked, particularly since there was no way Felix or Morley could possibly have heard or seen their predicament, but the players kept good humor about it.

Held Action Turns 3!

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Yes, it’s been three years since my first post here at Held Action. I’m still merrily chugging along. I’m role-playing way more than I ever have, thanks to Carrion Crown and Skull & Shackles. I’m planning two adventures for Carnage in November, using Ghostbusters and GURPS Cabal.

Was this where I expected to be in three years? Well . . . no, but only by virtue of not coming into this with many expectations. I began knowing I wanted an outlet to share my thoughts and experiences on gaming that wasn’t a long string of forum threads with zero replies. I didn’t decide to become a destination dot com gaming blog, which is good, because it turns out I don’t have the puff for that kind of content stream. I had an early spurt in the beginning where I had something I felt was worth writing about almost every day of the week, save weekends. I suspected that vigor could taper off, and it did.

Now Held Action‘s more of an occasional thing. I keep up mostly with session recaps, updates on my own GMing endeavors — mostly limited to Carnage games since Scions of Time guttered — local events of note and interesting tidbits that float past my field of vision. And that’s okay. This blog serves a more helpful purpose as a repository of my thoughts and the things I find interesting than yet another instance of armchair hobby journalism. No one needs me to paraphrase their press releases.[1] I need me to write a bit now and again about what’s going on in my pursuit of the tabletop hobby.

[1] Unless it’s for something I think is cool.

[Carrion Crown] A Hero Falls!

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Trial of the Beast coverThis week in Carrion Crown, a Dan (Sir Horace Gunderson), Geoff (Andris Kreitov), Toby (Solis Lightwarden and his eidolon Gea) and Tyler (Alexandros Callimachi) and GM Hunter were in a bit of a crooked pickle, as the rustic Ustalavian adage puts it.

Sir Horace and Solis have Vorkstag cornered on the balcony overlooking the chemical factory floor, with Callimachi covering the dark stalker from below. Andris and Gea guard the ground floor door from Grine attempting flight into the walled yard — although with Grine’s spider climb-fueled nimbleness, the odds of stopping the dark creeper from going wherever he likes seem frustratingly slim. Andris can’t wait, however, and leaps down, providing Grine with an opportunity to slash from the shadows.

A combined volley drives Vorkstag off the balcony, landing hard on the jury-rigged plank catwalk between chemical vats. Callimachi presses the advantage, another bolt driving Vorkstag back again. The stalker bursts into phosphoric flame as he plummets, singing Lightwarden and leaving only smoking garments to crumple in a heap on the flagstones.

Recalling Solis’ warning they need at least one of this horrors alive, Kreitov begins to pull his punches with Grine and gets a bicep full of poison-laced hatchet for his trouble. The Ustalavian hunter takes hit after hit from the creeper as his allies race to assist. Callimachi pivots to rain down bolts from a distance as Horace races to the melee. The flat of Gunderson’s blade knocks Grine out for the count. Callimachi and Kreitov truss the little troll, wary he may play possum to lodge another poisoned blade somewhere inopportune.

After patting Grine down, Horace heaves him over one shoulder, eliciting a liquid gurgle. Alarmed, Callimachi checks Grine to find he’s drowning in his own blood from the inside. Iomedae’s faithful can’t do much, but the eidolon Gea knows her way around humanoids as well and stabilizes Grine before he expires by drowning.[1] Investigation of Vorkstag’s stinking remains turns up a handful of curious black tubes, a number of which Grine carried as well.

While Andris keeps an eye on the prisoner, the other three adventurers check out the rest of the factory. Vorkstag’s chambers teem with books and bell jars of anatomical specimens, including the head and shoulders of someone who clearly has relatives in Morast. Ever conscious of the threat of the Lopper, Horace checks the closet. It holds an anonymous cabinet, which Solis notices has a faint aura of necromantic energies radiating from a small point within. Then the Taldane and the elf notice the faint “plip! plip! plip!” as something dark and sticky runs down the side of the cabinet.

Within, lined up as neatly as a row of fine suits, are nearly a score of skins, treated by some horrific alchemical process. Among the victims, they find what can only be Dr. Vilt, an old friend of the Lightwarden family, which sends Solis into a dead faint.[2] Further, there is the skin of an eight foot tall mongrel man, displaying the same wounds described by the Morast villagers as inflicted on their assailant by the blood caiman. Tucked away in a drawer is a syringe holding a curious silvery gray mercuric liquid. Next to that is a ledger of customers, items and costs. This one not only names more influential people in the city, including Dr. Brada of Karb Isle and one Aron Vrood, previously linked to the cabal of the Whispering Way, but it definitively ties to the vivisectionist trade to Vorkstag and Grine. Plus the handwriting matches that of the ledger found in the chamber off the city sewers.

Revisiting Grine’s chamber with a less rushed eye reveals a strongbox beneath his bed. Gunderson attempts to disable the mechanism he finds, getting a faceful of poison gas for his trouble. A nearby bell jar full of acid holds a golden key, which a handy length of wire procures. The strongbox, opened by the golden key, hid what must have been Grine’s nest egg: a purse of cloudy diamonds.

“Gunderson, did you kill something? I heard a thump.”
— Alexandros Callimachi

Pressing up the tower ladder proves problematic. The snapdragon homunculi lay in wait. It’s almost farcical the way their bites put victims to sleep, only to pop awake again, as when, say, Callimachi falls down the ladder shaft to wake on hitting the floor, or Sir Horace moves in to press his attack. Gea puts an end to the matter, biting one in half and smashing the other with her tail. The homunculi sorted, the tower room yields up a few choice objets d’art, including a painting that Horace slices from its frame to roll up for easy transport and an enormous scrimshaw work made from a mammoth tusk, which Solis recognizes as a magical scroll of sorts, holding spells of bull’s strength, ice storm and phantom steed.

Opening the trap door to the next level of the tower triggers a sonic trap, leaving everyone clinging to the ladder as they recover their wits. At the top of the tower is a belfry covered in homunculi droppings because of course there’s a third of the nuisances up here. Gunderson falls asleep immediately, Gea goes to bite the thing in two and Callimachi, tired of playing exterminator, climbs back into the tower. Once Gunderson and Gea put an end to it, they descend as well.

The door to the courtyard of the compound beckons. Beyond the door, they can hear the clinking of a disconcertingly hefty chain. Everyone readies weapons while Callimachi blesses them all. The yard is empty at first glance. That clinking chain runs from the ramshackle kennel off around the corner, out of sight. Andris charges forward and around. A second later, the blade of his sword veritably clangs off something heavy and metallic. As the others race to catch up, they find Kreitov locked in combat with a horrendous amalgamation of rotting dog parts. Yes, it’s a canine flesh golem. Everyone’s stomach turns in revulsion and pity for the abused animal(s).

But pity does nothing to ablate the hound’s ferocious bite. First it savages Kreitov, then turns to Sir Horace as he weaves through the conflict to reach the other side of the flesh golem, ripping out a massive chunk of flesh as he passes. The benighted hound lunges again at the Taldane noble, burying its jaws deep in his neck. A fleeting expression of shock barely registers on Gunderson’s face as he crumples to the ground beneath the hound’s bulk, never to move again.

There’s no time for mourning as the hound snaps its rancid jaws, looking for fresh meat. Solis shouts for everyone to fall back before turning invisible and hastening away. Gea remains engaged with the golem, allowing Andris to break away. Callimachi launches a few token bolts as he retreats, but they do nothing against the adamantine-like hide of the monstrosity.

The body of their fallen comrade twitches, then begins to drag along the ground in some cruel parody of Horace joining the retreat. It is, of course, the unseen Solis doing his best. The hound seems perplexed as to how its kill is moving, but the eidolon keeps it sufficiently occupied for Solis to get Gunderson’s mortal remains away and place them in the care of Callimachi as he makes for the safety of the factory.

“Maybe I could lure it into a vat of acid.”
— distraught, Andris has a terrible idea

Feeling every blow as he feeds his companion vital life force to keep the hound at bay, Solis briefly peeks inside the ground floor of the storage building. The three sleeping mongrel men convince the elf not to press any further. He rejoins his compatriots in the factory. Bearing the body of their comrade and the evidence for which he died, they make their way back through the depths of the factory. They keep up a running conversation of what to do next throughout.

Solis wants to take Horace’s body directly to the temple of Desna. Ensuring they cast gentle repose sooner rather than later will be an advantage to bringing him back, depending on any instructions he left and their collective ability to afford such services. On arrival, Lightwarden practically throws himself in the arms of a surprised Aurosan, seeking a balm for the ache in his soul.[3] Among his belongings, the Desnan acolytes find Sir Horace’s will,[4] dating to before his arrival in Ravengro, stipulating the disposal of various heriditary belongings, including Corvelle, the Gunderson family blade. There are, however, no instructions in the will with regard to raising or otherwise restoring the Taldane to life.[5]

Kreitov and Callimachi peel off on their own, heading straight for Judge Daramid’s home. They burst in, not bothering with the bell pull or any other niceties, to find her in dressing gown and slippers, with a cup of coffee. The breakfast table overflows with evidence: the ledgers, the mongrel man suit, the syringe, even the bound form of Grine himself, everything accumulated in the course of tracing the many depredations back to the dark stalker and its servile creeper. The barrage of evidence goads Daramid to action. Not only will she endorse the investigators’ actions, but call for an immediate investigation of the chemical works. Given the presence of the flesh golem in the yard, this could take some time, so the start of the trial will delay for at least a few hours.

The early morning noises of the city filter through the air, everyone slumps a little. The future looks much brighter for the Beast, but it was hard won at a cost no one was prepared to pay. The life of an adventurer is fraught with peril from the first step outside their door, but knowing that never prepares one for the shock of loss and the pain that carries on afterward.

[0] A quasi-hero? An opportunist? Some might quibble, but it’s not kind to speak ill of the dead, particularly in the former realm of the Whispering Tyrant.

[1] Hunter kept the combat time going throughout this development, so clearly something was up. Apparently putting someone down with nonlethal damage leaves them open to death from bleeding out anyway.

[2] Indeed, Toby found the whole grisly revelation exceptionally squicky, so kudos for channeling it into Solis.

[3] Ever the opportunist, that elf. Horace would be proud.

[4] Of course he left a will. This is Dan’s character. Remember the last will and testament of Lothar von Fasselstein?

[5] “What would Horace want?” was asked a few times — also “Did he leave ‘do not resurrect’ instructions?” — but it ultimately came down to Dan’s decision. The party certainly had the resources to swing a raise dead and restoration of the negative levels — especially if they leveraged rendering golem disposal services for the city against the cost of the raising. In the end, some time after the game broke up for the night, it was determined Horace preferred his afterlife, probably through use of the brass planchette or speak with dead.

Huzzah for the Handy Haversack

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Playing through Carrion Crown, my crossbow-slinging inquisitor racked up enough cash to acquire a handy haversack. Now I feel like I’m playing Dungeons & Dragons — Pathfinder, whatever.

There’s a certain delight I get from the more whimsical magic items and artifacts that come down through the annals of dungeon-crawling. The hat of disguise. The deck of many things. The apparatus of Kwalish. And now the handy haversack.

I mean, this is backpack that holds a crap ton more stuff than should fit inside. How can you not love that? Isn’t that something we’ve all wished for some time in our lives? Sure, a longsword +2 is spiffy, but it’s only really helpful if you’re in the murder-hobo profession. But a haversack with an extra — fine, non — dimensional interior. That’s got the right amount of whimsy to it that I smile just to think, “Hey, my guy’s got that. I never can, but he can.”

And by Iomedae, he’s going to cram it full of every kind of ammunition he lays his hands on.

[Skull & Shackles] Take Arms Against A Sea of Troubles

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Skull & Shackles: The Wormwood Mutiny CoverThis week in Skull & Shackles, Eric (Felix Cailean), Joey (Lady Viola Leona Eudonius) and Tyler (Morley Bishop) reconvened with GM Luke and were joined for the evening by John-2 playing Vern the marooned barbarian.[1] John-1 (Jetsam ibn Abbasid ibn Yunus al-Bhar; Jetsam al-Bhar for short) was away for the evening.

The next few days aboard Wormwood are unpleasant, but uneventful. Filth fever contains to rage among those who contracted it in the bilges. Morley’s finally breaks, then Felix’s the day after. They can begin the road to recovery — which is long and tedious in Morley’s case. Viola works studiously at her appointed tasks; perhaps the lesson by hanging made its mark after all. Jetsam keeps his head down out of sight completely. He’s a sensible sailor, after all.

The follow morning, Mr. Plugg bestows the rare honor of visiting Felix Cailean in his bunk, still feeling the aftereffects of the fever. Ever concerned with the welfare of his crew, Plugg has decided that fresh air is the sovereign cure Cailean needs. Particularly, Felix and his colleagues are to go on a foraging expedition for fresh food. There’s only so much Croup can do to “enhance” the gruel with his secret additives. Fresh stock is needed for the pot.

“Sharks are the tarrasques of the sea!”
— Morley Bishop

So Felix, Morley and Viola find themselves lowered into the sea via net with a healthy supply of crab pots. When one of the crew cautions them to watch out for sharks, Morley advises everyone that sharks are easily recognized by their stinging spines and hard shells.[2] They’re also not crazy about blood in the water. Despite the many dangers of stinging, hard-shelled sharks, the three reasonably accomplished swimmers strike out for an archipelago of submerged volcanic islands some distance from the Wormwood, crab pots in tow.

The first island top they come to is just a few feet below the surface. It teems with marine life, but Bishop can’t find much in the way of crabs here. Felix pushes on to a deeper island where the crabbing is more promising.

“You hear voices.”
“Again?”
— Vern’s been alone for a while

Meanwhile, on the far side of the archipelago, Vern languishes in the sun. Formerly a mate of a Ulfen longship, he berated the chief’s son a little too much and found himself marooned on this volcanic archipelago. That was a week and a half ago. Since then, Vern’s survived on raw crab and drinking his own urine. He’s red and blistered from constant exposure to the sun overhead. And now he hears voices in the distance. Scrambling to the apex of his little island, Vern sees what might be mistaken for three humans and a raft of crab pots bobbing around a few hundred yards away. As hallucinations go, it’s not terribly enticing, but it’s better than baking on a spit of rock all day, so he decides to check it out.

Now the Wormwood sailors spot Vern at practically the same instant and they’re even less certain of what they see. Face shadowed, bedraggled hair, red like a lobster; is this some new form of nautical monstrosity? No, but the reefclaws that Felix, currently harvesting crabs fifteen feet down, spots certainly are.

In the clear blue water, it’s easy to spot death swimming at you from yards off. Viola draws her curiously robust parasol — a central iron rod with wooden spars supporting the pink silk fabric and lace — and waits to see what these reefclaws do. That turns out to be charging directly at her, so Viola cracks the beast across the snout. The second reefclaw turns on Felix, who’s still underwater at this point. It wraps around Cailean and begins constricting. Morley attempts to summon help, but finds performing the correct gestures while treading water problematic. The spell fails.

Viola handily disposes of the reefclaw troubling her — which pushes it in a debilitating death frenzy. Felix, grappled and constricted, hovering on the brink of unconsciousness, learns from Viola’s example that fighting back has its own set of hazards. More concerned with getting his spell right, Morley manages to call a dolphin up out of the magical deeps. It slams into the reefclaw besetting Felix — pushing it straight into death frenzy. Cailean goes unconscious briefly, but recovers in time to surface and join the others.

“If I was meant to wear frog legs, they would come with four inch heels.”
— Lady Viola

In the aftermath, Felix recognizes Viola’s distress as she suffers from the poison of the reefclaw. He offers his swim fins to the lady, but she declines. Vern introduces himself and explains his plight. At this point, he’ll climb on board any ship, regardless of what the press-ganged warn him about the Wormwood and its officers. Once the crab pots are filled, the quartet swim for the Wormwood.

Back aboard ship, Mr. Plugg is indeed delighted to meet Vern and accept his mark on the signing papers. So is Cutthroat Grok when she spots the map tucked in Vern’s belt. She swaps him a greataxe for the map and hurries away, clutching the vellum in her massive paw-like fist.

Later, Scourge calls the crew to assemble on the deck. Captain Harringan makes a rare address. He praises Vern for bringing them the chart of Man’s Promise. Not only does it provide valuable navigational information for the local waters, but it shows the planned route and destination for Man’s Promise. And it’s the duty of every free captain and crew to keep the Shackles free from the predations of foreign vessels. There looks to be a bit of “salvage” in the Wormwood‘s future.

“A little whale blubber will clear that up.”
“I was just beginning to feel better.”
— Vern and Viola

That night, Felix hears Rosie Cusswell’s profanity-laden tale of woe. All she really wants is a violin so she might play again, preferably sized for her halfling hands. Moved, Felix goes to Grok to negotiate for something that might work for Rosie. After a long day of crabbing, Morley indulges completely in his double ration of grog, entertaining the crew with the tale of their bout with the reefclaws. Viola worries about the sunburn she developed out on the water. Vern’s suggested solution is less than appealing.

The next day is uneventful. Those who went crabbing are off-duty. Viola noses around the hold, Morley makes that key to the brig’s manacles for Felix[3] and Cailean himself lounges and eavesdrops, but doesn’t hear anything of interest.

That night, Viola angles to swap for parchment and ink to write a letter home, but comes up dry. Felix earns a friend in Rosie Cusswell and an idle stream of profanity when he presents her with a toy-sized fiddle, saying “It’s a little small, but in your hands . . . ” Morley makes time with Tilly Bracket, who has a tale of caution for the archaeologist. Her husband was an educated man in the Pathfinder Society. When they were forcibly taken aboard Wormwood, he was killed for knowing how to navigate. At sea, knowledge is power. It’s ignorance that keeps the press-ganged and kidnapped at the mercy of the ship’s officers. For a retriever and dealer in artifacts like Morley, this reminds him it would be wise to keep his head down a bit more than he has so far. Anger subsiding, Tilly muses about the joy of “sugaring” the officers’ own hooch supply with a contribution of her own.

The next day, while Viola proves an excellent rat-catcher and Vern generates some conversation wearing a kilt in the rigging, the man in the crow’s nest shouts “Land ho!”[4] Ahead is Fisherman’s Folly, rightly named for the reefs and shoals surrounding the island. Mr. Plugg calls his “favorite” crewmembers into the officer’s quarters, where he and Peppery Longfarthing — who seems confused by Bishop making eyes at her — explain they are to go out in a longboat and mark a safe course through the reefs forWormwood. There are reports of a magical suit of armor lost among the reefs and the captain aims to retrieve it. Longfarthing keeps her peace during the briefing, but the contempt in her expression is obvious. On dismissal from the officers, Morley presses his ear against the door in time to catch Longfarthing calling Plugg out for relying on two swabs, a sun-dazed barbarian and the cook’s mate to chart a safe course through the perils of Fisherman’s Folly.

Even so, that’s who goes out in the longboat, once they’ve had the opportunity to peruse Grok’s wares and replenish any needs. Ample lengths of rope, sunrods, spears and javelins are piled into the boat. Whatever’s lurking in these waters, they won’t be unprepared to deal with it as they were the reefclaws.

With Morley at the oars, the boat makes leisurely progress through the waters around Fisherman’s Folly. Vern and Felix chart the depths with sounding lines, leaving air-filled bladders as marker buoys. Viola leans back under her parasol to enjoy the ride. Schools of tropical fish swim by in formation. The quiet water is occasionally broken by the splash of a leaping tuna.

With water so clean and clear, it’s no trouble to see to the seafloor. Below they spot a Chelaxian wreck on its side, the hull stove in at some spots. Armed with ample amounts of pig iron for ballast, there’s no reason not to check out the wreck for themselves. Felix, Morley and Vern each grab a chunk and speedily sink to the seafloor. Viola remains surface-side with her parasol to enjoy the sea breeze.

Down below, the ship’s name plaque is encrusted with barnacles. They probe into the ship proper through a hole by the prow end of the keel. Almost immediately, they disturb a trio of squid on the inner side of the hull. Bishop is mauled by one while Felix and Vern make short work of the beasts. Up on the surface, Viola is appalled by Felix’s suggestion she tend to the squid to save as provisions for the ship and throws them into the water after he leaves.[5]

Sifting through the wreckage, they find a logbook, which Morley tucks away for later. Pressing towards the aft, the explorers are beset by lacedons from the shadows of the wreck, a form of underwater ghoul Morley recognizes. At the same time above, a lacedon approaches the longboat from underneath while Viola idly dabbles her toes in the water.

They prove to be tough customers. Vern is paralyzed by their touch almost immediately. Felix and Morley struggle for their lives, aware with every motion that the demands of combat underwater places greater demands on the air they have remaining in their lungs. When they finally put paid to the three lacedons below,[6] they each grab one of Vern’s arms, dragging the northman out of the ship and back toward the surface.

Above, Viola fares no better against one lacedon. It paralyzes Eudonia and she falls into the water. As she sinks, this seems like it might be a preferable outcome to the lacedon’s tender mercies. The three sailors rising up engage the lacedon just as it runs its rotten tongue along Viola’s neck. As they struggle to save the lady from the lacedon, it flips the boat completely, sending all their equipment to the seabed.

Once the ghoul is put down and everyone has the chance to refill their lungs with salty sea air, they descend once more to the wreck. In the back of the hold, they find the armor, still worn by its former owner, now a fleshless skeleton in the dim gloom of the sea. The armor is salvaged and its occupant laid to rest at sea.

During the trip back, Morley examines the logbook. Forgotten Dreams set forth from Cheliax looking for not this fabled armor of water breathing and freedom of movement, but the Lost Messenger, a silver toucan crafted by a Taldane jeweler held aboard the ship Deprived. The toucan was last seen flying into Mgang Cove off the Slithering Coast, south of Port Peril. Forgotten Dreams was sent to find the silver whistle which can call up the Lost Messenger. It’s an amusing story to tell while someone else rows the longboat back to Wormwood.

It also begs the question: what is Harringan truly looking for? Magical armor, or this mysterious silver toucan? Or something else entirely? And why entrust a gaggle of poorly trained deckhands with this mission?[7]

[1] One of the helpful conventions of shipboard life is that if a player can’t make a session, their character can easily be assigned to other duties or happen to be off in a longboat for some reason.

[2] Having rolled a 1 on his Knowledge (Nature) check.

[3] You know, the key that won’t work because Morley can’t tell a tumbler from a hole in the hull.

[4] And after two and a half sessions trapped aboard the Wormwood, I felt a palpable sense of relief at the prospect of exploring somewhere new.

[5] Which surely will only keep away those hard-shelled, stinging sharks that loathe the scent of blood in the water.

[6] Only because one “got distracted” and wandered off. Those things are tough and nasty. If Luke had pressed their advantage, I don’t think they would have been able to save Vern and only themselves by fleeing.

[7] Apropos of nothing, we dinged second level at the end of the session! Hello there, Clever Explorer.

Some REALLY atypical RPG settings

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A post over at Topless Robot listed some good “atypical” RPG settings. You know, like Paranoia, Toon, and . . . Traveller? Pendragon? Wait, those are supposed to be weird?

Weak sauce, gentlemen. Weak sauce.

Traveller is a bog-standard hard science fiction with the addition of FTL travel. Pendragon is about Arthurian Britain, one of the longest-lived settings of adventure in our whole freakin’ culture. You want some unusual RPG settings? How about . . .

1. Bunnies and Burrows

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You’re rabbits. Not magic, super-powered rabbits, just rabbits going through their everyday lagomorph lives. One of the yummiest things in God’s creation, cursed to a life of frantic fucking HOPING that enough of your kids survive red-tailed hawks to continue your family line. My college gaming buddies and I had a running joke for RPG nights when time was running short: Bunnies and Burrows vs. Cthulhu in the Old West.
GM: Uh, OK, you see an elder god.
PCs (in chorus): We wiggle our widdle noses at it!
GM: OK, you’re dead. There’s no medicine to heal you. 2 pts. for your next character.

2. GURPS Fantasy 2: Mad Lands

What were they smoking? Steve Jackson Games marketed this as their next big fantasy line. You kinda have to applaud them for such a gutsy move, but this game is all edgy and weird and Burroughs-esque without being much fun. The Mad Lands are home to a band of primitives subject to the whims of mad, chaotic gods. “Lobsters hung from her ear lobes; her body was covered with armor made of live, writhing sea urchins.” That’s a DIRECT quote from a story in Roleplayer. Tell me that doesn’t sound like a line from The Naked Lunch.

3. Broncosaurus Rex

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The U.S. Civil War continues hundreds of years in the future. With dinosaurs. The Confederacy freed their slaves ages ago, so there’s no worrying about petty morality when your character flies the Stars and Bars. From the back of a triceratops. On another planet.

4. Little Fears

Children face down monsters in the closet. SCARY ones. The kind who want to slice your parents up for Sunday dinner or lock kids down in Uncle Touchy’s Naked Puzzle Basement. The book is beautifully done and there’s actually a good, albeit inconsistent, game in here. Fair warning—only very mature roleplayers should play this game.

5. Over the Edge

An absurdist conspiracy game on a fictional Mediterranean island. There’s lots of corruption, violence, drug use, and gambling. The whole shebang’s run by Monique, an aging President-for-Life who used to bang Mussolini. The one time we played Over the Edge the players got obsessed with the pizza delivery drivers who could travel through time. Lots of fun, with light and adaptable rules.

6. GURPS Goblins

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Greedy, despicable, disgusting characters in Georgian London. At least they have an excuse: they’re goblins. This is an RPG within a Hogarth cartoon where greed, lechery, and base ambition make for a darkly comic, one of a kind experience.

7. Singing Cowboys (All Flesh Must Be Eaten)

RIghteous, root-beer drinking, God-fearing singing cowboys fighting zombies. I seriously have to wonder if anyone’s ever played this. I love All Flesh Must Be Eaten, a survival horror RPG with an elegant, versatile rules set that’s right in my sweet spot. But the Fistful o’ Zombies supplement was designed to integrate zombies with Western films, and someone noticed that a lot of old Westerns were low-budget flicks about singing cowboys. Even in-game the zombies are deliberately tacked on—the premise here is that a B-movie director is shoehorning monsters into his failing films, and the PCs are the clueless characters in the serials. The other settings in the book Fistful o’ Zombies are actually quite good; Singing Cowboys just comes off as pointless and odd.

8. Psychosis: Ship of Fools

PCs have to unravel multiple layers of reality with a tarot deck. I think the authors were going for an Illuminatus meets Dark City feel that doesn’t pan out. I never played this one, but I have read the book. You’ve gotta be a crackerjack writer to pull off a premise that ambitious and, well . . . that didn’t happen. It’s just overly twisty and boring, like talking to a hippie while the two of you are on different highs.

9. Human-Occupied Landfill (H.o.L.)

The grand champion of bizzarro roleplaying games.  The PCs live as prisoners on a giant landfill planet at the ass end of the galaxy. There’s bug-eyed aliens and orcs and toxic mutants and a sodomite biker gang. The whole damn book was handwritten for press. The game feels like being trapped in the gross-out drawings of an angry, disturbed, skilled 13-year-old.

[Carrion Crown] The Acid Factory

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Trial of the Beast coverThis week in Carrion Crown, a Dan (Sir Horace Gunderson), Geoff (Andris Kreitov), Toby (Solis Lightwarden and his eidolon Gea) and Tyler (Alexandros Callimachi) and GM Hunter picked up right where they left off. The pickle farmers of Lepidstadt put to rest and with the support of Judge Daramid given on the down-low, it was time to unravel the final loose thread: the connection of the chemists Vorkstag and Grine to the body-snatching in Morstag and the Karb Isle sanctuary.

While Solis replenishes his mystical reserves, the others catch whatever fitful rest they can in the dark hours before dawn. The sky is only beginning to lighten as they descend into the sewers under Anatomist’s Alley. The journey underground is swift yet pungent. About where their collective sense of direction reckons the Vorkstag & Grine compound resides overhead, they find an attached chamber not part of the sewers themselves. The room appears to be a distribution center for most grisly wares. It teems with glass jars holding preserved body parts. Dull eyes stare blankly from the head of a drow. The skeletons of owl bears are heaped in the corner. A coffin still holds its occupant, seemingly the beneficiary of a nearby wand of gentle repose. There’s even a ledger detailing buyers and sellers of vivisected body parts, but nothing indicating who’s doing all the brokering or lays claim to this distribution center.

Sharp-eyed Gea detects a secret door leading on from this antechamber. It’s a storeroom of coffins and vials of various substances: bloodblocker, weapon blanches of cold iron and adamantine and blade guard. From there, the group has two options. Through one door they can hear gurgling pipes, machinery and shuffling footsteps. Through the other door, they hear nothing. Beyond the quiet door, they find steps leading down to a heavily secured iron door, beyond which water sloshes. Inside, they find a chamber of icy water, filled with corpses. Disturbing the surface causes the bodies to bob in the water, bumping against each other and the walls. It’s a gruesome sight, even as they are semi-preserved in the cold. The adventurers beat a hasty retreat to try the second door.

Once Sir Horace finesses the lock of the second door, Andris peeks in. Everyone but Gea is too preoccupied with the room beyond to hear footfalls ascending the stairs behind them. A pair of shambling forms, identified by Callimachi as juju zombies, lurch into melee. The alchemical zombies are swiftly put down by Andris and Gea, though not before one hits Solis so hard, he’s shaken into immobility for a moment.

Beyond the second door is a wide, tall cavern of a room, presumably the factory floor as it is filled with seven tall vats, heated from below by gas jets. Planks run overhead from vat to vat in a makeshift catwalk system. Snooping around the floor stealthily, Horace leads the way. He sights hideous mongrel men going about the business of the factory. Sneaking up on one, he fails to hit, but Gea and Callimachi follow up. Once Horace guts the first mongrel man, the other two take notice and combat is engaged. Andris easily slips among the vats, popping around corners to snipe at the remaining mongrel men from a distance. Even Solis gets a shot in before all three mongrels are put down.

A ladder on the wall leads up to a balcony two stories above the factory floor. Immediately off it, they find a storeroom with a cargo door and crane giving access to the compound’s courtyard. Solis notices a ramshackle kennel in one corner of the yard. What sort of hound dwells there? The storeroom also offers up vials of acid and nushadir, tanglefoot bags and thunderstones. As Gunderson, Callimachi and Lightwarden sift through the storeroom, Andris keeps watch outside. This sets him up nicely to take a hatchet in the back from the creeping little gnome swathed in layers of rags and an oversized cloak that can only be good old Grine. As the hatchet lands home, Grine shouts for assistance. Up close, Andris recognizes this is no gnome at all, but a dark creeper. The rancid little creature leaps off the balcony to land on the plank scaffolding and bound away. Gea follows by slithering down onto the planks while Andris heads for the ladder to reach the factory floor. The creeper continues hurling hatchets, which turn out to be poisoned. The eidolon is wracked by debilitating waves of pain that seemingly won’t end long after Grine stops landing hatchets.

Overhearing the commotion, Gunderson and Callimachi rush out to join the fray. Andris finds Grine clinging to the side of a vat, presumably thanks to spider climb. The dark creeper shows off its talents by moving almost faster than the adventurers can track it — until Alexandros pegs him with one of the tanglefoot bags, slowing him long enough for Gea to move in. Solis takes advantage of the ruckus to check another door on the balcony, finding what may be Grine’s personal chambers. As he does so, the third door opens and a figure leaps forth, bashing the unwary elf with a mace. Surely this is Vorkstag himself? Horace charges the newcomer, his gaze arrested by its inhuman eyes peering from behind layers of bandages. From the floor, Callimachi makes out Vorkstag well enough to identify him as a dark stalker and thus bring Iomedae’s bane[1] down on him and his diminutive counterpart.

Solis breaks away to penetrate deeper into the compound. Grine’s bedroom is a combination alchemy lab and abbatoir. In the corner, a ladder beckons upward, an invitation which Solis accepts.

Andris rises to Grine’s level, climbing up on the plank scaffolding. As they haltingly close to melee — Grine keeps hanging back, clearly waiting for the foolish human to rush in — Andris realizes he left his huge honking sword down on the factory floor when he switched to his bow. This is a bit of a tactical error, but it doesn’t stop Kreitov from pushing onward. The dark creeper proves surprisingly strong, as he knocks Andris into the vat of acid over which they tangle.[2] The hunter’s heavy armor drags him straight to the bottom of the ten foot vat.

Elsewhere, Solis continues his exploration. The ladder leads up into the tower looming over the factory courtyard. On the second level, a pair of winged red beasts beset Lightwarden. They wheel overhead and snap with a surprisingly nasty bite. Heavy injury plus the discovery that these snapjaw homunculi’s bite can put him to sleep motivate the elf to flee back downstairs, slamming the trap door shut behind him.

On the factory floor, Callimachi searches for a drainage mechanism on the vat in which Kreitov enjoys his full body exfoliation. Given the options of a level, a wheel and another mechanism, Callimachi opts for the wheel. Turns out this turns up the flame jet beneath the tank, which is probably not to Kreitov’s advantage. Fortunately, the hunter recovers his wits well enough to swim up out of the acid even as his flesh falls away.

Vorkstag attempts to escape the tender ministrations of Gunderson’s sword by quaffing a potion of invisibility. The Taldane noble is undeterred and keeps the dark stalker pinned in the corner of the balcony. Once the stalker reappears, Gunderson blinds him with one of the weapon blanches found in the sewer access.[3] From the floor, Callimachi wheels to begin planting bolt after bolt in Vorkstag.

As Grine disappears again around the rim of a vat, Andris and Gea team up to block his escape. They make their way to the ground level exit, where they keep watch for the dark creeper. If the little beast tries to make a break for it, they’ll spot him. Gea enjoys the breather as an opportunity for the poison that’s been debilitating her to finally stop making things worse.

Battered and disoriented, Solis lurches forth from Grine’s chamber to survey the chaos below. The group is scattered, in various states of gross disfigurement and hard-pressed to keep a lid on the scampering, jumping, tumbling Grine. Spirits are low and flagging.[4] Can they prevail against these two dark folk? Is anyone going to realize it would be very helpful to bring in at least one of them alive?

Find out next time!

[1] +2d6 damage is frigging awesome.

[2] This is another one of the moments where everybody at the table freezes and cringes to hear what’s happened.

[3] This was Horace’s first dirty trick of the game. It’s a neat set of abilities that the GM decided are ineffective against the myriad of undead we’ve fought up to this point.

[4] This battle took much of the night. Even with the battlemat, translating the book’s depiction of the multiple levels of the factory from the mat and Hunter’s descriptions into everyone’s minds was a trial. It was tactically interesting and in retrospect we had one or two resources that could have helped keep up with the dark folk, like our own potion of spider climb, but at the time it was frustrating and a source of contention as conceptions of the space clashed and affected choices in a negative fashion.