Deconstructing: The Skinsaw Murders (Rise of the Runelords Book 2)

On By MagicJMSIn Adventure Path, Tabletop RoleplayingLeave a comment

Rise of the Runelords series:

Rise of the Runelords Anniversary Edition by Wayne Reynolds, © 2012, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Used under the Community Use Policy

If you missed the first part of this series, what are you doing here you silly goose? Check out my post on Book 1 from yesterday for the full explanation of what I’m doing and why. In short, I’m digging into the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path from Paizo and breaking each book down into what I consider the essential story beats, freeing up room for more character-driven bits and overall simplifying the campaign focus. There are several important caveats, which I’ll restate here:

First and foremost, these edits are to my preference for the game that I want to run. What I consider “essential,” you may not, and vice-versa. You would make (or have made) different decisions, which is both natural and part of the fun. Feel free to comment below if you see different opportunities.

Second, get ready to clutch your pearls. If you’ve run or played in Rise of the Runelords, I’m going to be deleting your favorite side quest, or NPC, or completely rewriting villain’s motivations and backstories. When I’m done, it’s not going to resemble the story you know.

Third, there will be rampant spoilers—in fact, once I dive in, these posts are essentially spoilers from start to finish. If you are a player in one of these APs or plan to be, these articles aren’t for you. (If you plan on GMing it, however… welcome!)

Finally, I don’t yet know what game system I’ll be using to run this Adventure Path, but it likely won’t be Pathfinder. Try not to get caught up in how dramatically I’m reducing the possible XP or treasure, or what I’m doing to CR of encounters. For a peek inside my thoughts on systems, you can start here.

With the preamble out of the way, let’s jump into Book 2!

Rise of the Runelords 2: The Skinsaw Murders

The Skinsaw Murders by Wayne Reynolds, © 2007, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Used under the Community Use Policy

In Book 1 of the Rise of the Runelords Adventure Path, we saw the party of heroes thwart a goblin raid in Sandpoint at the annual Swallowtail Festival, become local celebrities (with various character-specific plots weaving them into the community). Then, while the Sheriff was out of town, they became aware that the goblins did not retreat into the hinterlands as assumed, but instead had gathered in the local glassworks. When the party cleaned out Sandpoint Glassworks, they discovered that multiple goblin tribes were being orchestrated by someone named Nualia, and that their base of operations was nearby Thistletop. Our heroes thus traveled to Thistletop, where they defeated not only the goblin warchief but Nualia herself. In so doing, they discovered ancient Thassilonian ruins that date thousands of years back to the Runelord of Greed, Karzoug (though they may not realize this connection yet). The party returned to town having quelled a regionwide threat, and their reputation as the Heroes of Sandpoint only deepened.

Book 2, The Skinsaw Murders written by Richard Pett, kicks off some time after these events, which should give the PCs plenty of time for downtime and to further whatever character-specific plots tie them into the town. Meanwhile, an NPC from Book 1 is up to no good. From the module: “In the previous chapter, the PCs rescued Aldern Foxglove from a band of goblins and then accompanied him on a boar hunt—his way of repaying the PCs for saving his life. Although he hid his desperation well, Aldern was deep in debt to the Brothers of the Seven” (who? see below) “at the time. When the PCs rescued him, he became obsessed with one of them, seeing in this PC a misplaced opportunity for his own redemption. Aldern’s obsession stems from one of three sins (GM choice): lust, envy, or wrath.”

I’ll be honest: The module opens with a three-page spread of backstory that is fantastically complex that I’ll largely ignore in favor of simpler motives. But I’m keeping the central spine: Foxglove has tried to reclaim his family’s abandoned haunted mansion outside of Sandpoint, and did so with the help of a corrupt organization, the Brothers of the Seven (aka the Skinsaw Cult), who are led by a follower of Karzoug, a long-lived lamia named Xanesha. The lamia matriarch has played on all of Foxglove’s weaknesses, and by the time Book 2 opens he is succumbing to ghoul fever and is utterly her thrall. Even that backstory is pretty complex, but works well enough for what happens throughout this book without massively rewriting the story.

Chapter 1: Murder Most Foul

The new adventure begins with Sheriff Hemlock approaching the PCs, telling them of a string of murders in Sandpoint. He’s been keeping them quiet because of the Chopper murder spree (part of the Late Unpleasantness that plagued Sandpoint five years ago and that the PCs will have heard about from their dealings in town in Book 1). He wants them to investigate the crimes before the same sort of hysteria overtakes the town. Great! A straightforward setup with clear motivations. Love it.

The sheriff then hands the PC who Foxglove is obsessed with a scrap of paper, with a creepy message written in blood just to them—a note that had been pinned to the latest victim. What could it mean? We have ourselves an old-fashioned murder mystery! If the PCs decline to help, the murders only mount and get more personal, so eventually they’re drawn into the investigation.

The sheriff promises to help as needed but will be focused on keeping the town peace. He deputizes the heroes (classic!) and gives them a list of all the leads he currently has, including directing them to the latest crime scene at the Sandpoint Lumber Mill. It’s hard to imagine any group of players not beginning with the crime scene, where they find a set of muddy footprints, two bodies (the mill’s operator Benny Harker and Katrine Vinder, the other daughter of Ven Vinder from Book 1), a bloody axe, and the lingering stench of decay (left by Foxglove’s undead body).

I should note that the descriptions in the module are truly horrific, and worthy of some content warnings with players in Session 0 of the AP. How much to play into the horror is, I suppose, a table decision, but I don’t see how you can avoid some of the awfulness, particularly the fact that Harker’s body has been carved with a seven-pointed star, the same symbol worn by Nualia from Book 1. The PCs can a) thoroughly investigate the scene for clues, b) go back to the jail and question Ibor Thorn, Harker’s partner and the one who discovered the bodies, c) question the only suspect, Ven Vinder, in another cell, and d) investigate the seven-pointed star, an ancient Thassilonian symbol, via experts like Brodert Quink in town. Doing so can reveal:

  • Something undead crawled from the nearby marsh through the upper floor of the mill. One of the victims hit it with the axe before dying.
  • Harker was sacrificed in some sort of magical ritual whereas Katrine died by being pushed through the log splitter (gross).
  • Harker was embezzling money from the mill, cooking its books. He and Katrine were having an affair. The more they investigate Benny Harker, the less respectable he seems. He was, essentially, a greedy man.
  • Ven is innocent, but there’s a great chance to carry over whatever interpersonal tangles he might have with the PCs from Book 1.
  • A good lore dump about ancient Thassilon, including the origins of the seven-pointed star, called a Sihedron Rune, and its ties to the seven virtues / sins.

Of course, these two deaths were only the latest murders. Sheriff Hemlock can point the PCs to a raving man named Grayst Sevilla and the three bodies they found him with from two days prior. The bodies are all ritually sacrificed as Harker’s, with the same Sihedron Rune carved into them. Grayst is a tough one to interrogate because of his madness, but was made to watch the rituals (which broke his mind) and can reveal a) it was a ghoul calling himself the Skinsaw Man, and b) he’s targeting greedy souls. Grayst is also succumbing to ghoul fever, which provides a moral quandary to the party about what to do with him.

In the module, Grayst is the “prize” of Chapter 2, but I’d push it up here for reasons I’ll explain below. Otherwise, Chapter 1 to my eye is a good—albeit gross—start to a murder mystery and straightforward to run.

Chapter 2: The Thing in the Attic 

Everything about this chapter except Grayst, to me, feels unnecessary. We have a large sanatorium in a remote dale outside of Sandpoint, with a long, complicated backstory that has nothing to do with the central plot. Instead, it involves a desperate crackpot sadist and a rogue necromancer working together, and the PCs find themselves needing to deal with both just to question Grayst. I’m loathe to include something like a sanatorium in an adventure in the best of times, but I’m certainly not excited about creating something sinister and, ultimately, cliché. At best, this whole set of story beats is uncomfortable for the players. At worst, they require their own content warnings and feel like a parody of mental illness all throughout the complex. The module creates a red herring in the necromancer, someone who has nothing to do with the murders but seems to, which I find annoying. Finally, what are the PCs supposed to do with the poor people in the sanatorium once they’ve eliminated both its operator and financial sponsor? Nope, don’t like it.

There are some fun—and creepy!—details about Grayst’s feverish mutterings, especially towards the PC that Foxglove has targeted with his attention. I’d keep these bits and discard the rest, and simply place Grayst in a cell alongside Ven in Chapter 1.  

Chapter 3: Walking Scarecrows

As the PCs grapple with the various clues and murders, Sheriff Hemlock again comes calling. A farmer—with the hysterical name of Maester Grump—is the lone survivor of a group that had been trying to combat something menacing the various farmsteads surrounding Sandpoint. Why the sheriff sent him to the PCs becomes obvious as he tells his tale: Farms are being attacked by “walking scarecrows” which, as he details his account, are likely ghouls. Grump can pinpoint the source of the problems as originally stemming from the old Hambley place. The PCs can take some of Hemlock’s guards with them if they want to enlist aid or go on their lonesome to check out what’s happening.

Hambley’s farm and family, it turns out, were the first victims of Foxglove as the Skinsaw Man, his first exploits as a full undead monster. He turned the Hambleys just as he did Grayst, but because more time has passed, they’re all ghouls eating and turning the other farming families. Over three dozen farmsteads sit to the southeast of Sandpoint (equidistant from the town to Foxglove Manor, which is southwest along the coast), and as the party questions locals, the news of the walking scarecrows and its epicenter at Hambley farm becomes clear.

Then, as they near Hambley’s, the PCs discover a mix of corpses and newly-turned ghouls hanging as scarecrows among the fields. It’s all pretty horrific again, so tread cautiously. That said, there’s an opportunity to make very atmospheric and creepy discoveries of the ghoul plague infesting the farmlands, with as many undead encounters as feels right for the players in the system I’m running.

Farmer Hambley’s body is ritually sacrificed and sits decaying in the farmhouse kitchen, with another Sihedron Rune and another note pinned to the body for the targeted PC. The rest of his family are ghouls, and should attack the PCs in the scariest way possible. Except for Foxglove, this chapter is the big “fight ghouls” chapter, which I’d make as long or short as suits the appetite (heh… see what I did there?) of my players.

The big link the module makes between the Skinsaw murders and Foxglove happens when the PCs kill a ghoul who was both a Hambley farmer and once caretaker of Foxglove Manor. I find this link forced, so I would instead drop some clues—either in the notes or some physical clue left by Aldern Foxglove—that makes the party highly suspicious that he has some sort of link here. As they look for him in town, no one has seen the nobleman since shortly after the boar hunt from Book 1. As a result, the PCs learn of Foxglove Manor’s existence and go to investigate.

If the PCs aren’t making the link or pursue some lengthy side quest, more murders can occur. I wouldn’t overdue it here – I think that I’d make the next Skinsaw Murder an NPC that can qualify as “greedy” that the PCs like, then drop another highly-personal note that means they can’t ignore Foxglove.

The module also suggests the idea of dropping a number of ghoul “time bombs” into Sandpoint that Foxglove has created, then possibly a “Night of the Ghouls” where they all attack. I find that these ideas would likely draw out the adventure significantly, and make too-repetitive ghoul combats. Once the PCs have handled the farmstead problem and made the definitive connection to Foxglove (while also being unable to find him in town), I’d point them at Foxglove Manor and keep the story moving.

Chapter 4: Misgivings

I suspect the author gave Foxglove Manor the nickname “the Misgivings” to avoid spoiling anything with the chapter titles, but it’s a nice local flavor anyway. The origin of the nickname and other details about the house plagued by misfortune can get puzzled out by the PCs if they do any research before heading there. When they travel, the path to Foxglove Manor is three miles from Sandpoint southwest along the Varisian coast. The party reaches the location to find a decaying mansion hanging off a cliff “as if the entire house were poised for a suicide leap.” The description of the place’s exterior and interior are fun and help enhance the horror vibes running throughout Book 2.

Remember that three-page convoluted backstory I mentioned opening the module? Welp, the intent is for Foxglove Manor to be haunted by one of Aldern’s relatives, Vorel Foxglove, who tried to become a lich and was interrupted by his wife, and thus the house itself became his phylactery. Vorel still haunts the manor today. Also, there’s a supernatural fungus in the basement, keeping it all in place. Oh, and there are six other deaths within the house that have led to hauntings. Frankly, it’s all the kind of stuff I’m eager to cut, and exactly the kind of randomness that, in my experience, leads players to forget why they’re doing what they’re doing it in APs. I’m fine with Foxglove Manor being a haunted mansion to add varied threats, but I’m equally fine just making it a creepy place in which Foxglove and his growing army of ghouls reside. Toggling it between the two doesn’t change the central plot, so either enjoy the ghosts and haunts or massively shorten the chapter – GM’s call. Either way, I like the module’s suggestion that spending the night in Foxglove Manor is a no-no, and any PC who does so is likely plagued by damaging nightmares and then suffers some sort of condition.

I’m not going to go through the Manor’s 37-room dungeon, complete with animated stuffed manticores, phantom fires, a dire bat, semi-liches, and many various haunts that make PCs a) roleplay a grieving wife, b) dance to death, and c) jump from the roof. Suffice it to say, even if I kept the house as haunted, I would remove several encounters and backstory elements to the haunting. As it is, the parts I’ll keep are the “natural” hazards like collapsing floors, sentient mold, and rat swarms, plus maybe a haunt or two. I’ll drop the whole conceit of the corrupted basement and the complex tragedies that led to hauntings. Instead, I’ll keep the house levels of the map as inspiration, add natural hazards, and seed it with Aldern Foxglove and his ghoulish horde.

Eventually, of course, must come the showdown with Foxglove. There are several details I’m dropping in this encounter as written, namely the supernatural fungus fueling the haunts and Aldern switching between his own personality and Vorel’s. Instead, I’d play up the changes in the NPC they got to know in Book 1, now utterly corrupted by his ghoulishness and his patron Xanesha. There will be lots of monologuing on his obsession with the chosen PC (high creepy factor), why he performed his various murders—harvesting greedy souls for Xanesha—and his need to pay off debts to the Brothers of the Seven in Magnimar. In the module there’s a note from Xanesha that details a bit of this, but since the “find the villain’s notes” plot device was used with Nualia (and will be used again and again and again), I’d insert as much as I could into Foxglove’s rantings during the battle as possible and reduce reliance on the note-trope.

Chapter 5: Chasing the Skinsaw

There’s finally a break for the PCs between Chapters 4 & 5. Here they can tell the sheriff and mayor about what they’ve uncovered, get some well-earned downtime, and further any in-town side plots that are still active (or create some new ones if not!). Town officials will point out that, if they want to get to the bottom of this nonsense, it sounds like they should go to Magnimar to find out who this Xanesha person is and to dissuade the Brothers of the Seven from further targeting Sandpoint. And didn’t Foxglove have a townhouse in Magnimar? As motivations go, it’s a little anemic, and I can see some parties not taking the bait. If that happens, Xanesha can send a new operative to pick up where Foxglove left off. Doing so extends the length of the AP, but it will be a clear signal that this threat won’t end until someone goes to Magnimar to deal with it.

The sheriff and mayor likely suggest the PCs begin at Foxglove’s house in Magnimar. But first, it’s a chance to show off what is the party’s first major metropolis. Magnimar is the City of Monuments, and there is a detailed gazetteer available within the module, plus a Paizo supplement to go even deeper. The trick is to not get too distracted with the city and its trappings, and to keep the party somewhat focused. To me, though, I’d want to spend at least a session or two “showing off” Magnimar and bringing the city to life. If there’s an opportunity to foreshadow something about Justice Ironbriar (leader of the Skinsaw Cult founded by the lamia Xanesha and a later encounter) or the mayor, all the better. I’d also want to establish some sort of encounter with the local authorities to see whether the party is going work with them or against them while in the city. Finally, if the party somehow got entangled with the Sczarni in Book 1, there’s an opportunity for a payoff here.

At Foxglove’s townhouse, Xanesha has laid a trap. She likely knows that Aldern has failed, and figures that whoever killed him will come here. Xanesha and Justice Ironbriar have planted two faceless stalkers here. They’re aberrant shapeshifters, so when the party arrives, they find… Aldern and one of the victims?! It’s a fun idea, and I’m inclined to keep it, both for the initial confusion and the realization that the people sponsoring Foxglove have some scary things in their arsenal. Will others they encounter in Magnimar also be shapeshifters? It’s a dangerous ripcord to pull as a GM (in general, Paizo uses faceless stalkers a lot in APs), but here I think it’s fun.

Searching the townhouse brings riches and (and this is me altering what’s in the module) the written agreement between the Brothers of the Seven and Aldern Foxglove to fund restoration of his birthright of Foxglove Manor. Though the module doesn’t say it explicitly, I’d also sprinkle in a Sihedron Rune or two into the letters, and maybe a hint that Xanesha actually runs the Brothers through powerful proxies. Importantly, there will also be a clue that the Brothers, also called the Skinsaw Cult, gathers at the Seven’s Sawmill in Magnimar.

Chapter 6: The Seven’s Sawmill

This chapter begins with an explanation of Norgorber, god of murder, secrets, greed, and poison, and his various cults across Magnimar. One of those cults is the Brothers of the Seven, aka the Skinsaw Cult. I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t really make the connection between the Skinsaw Cult and a Golarion god. Anyway, Norgorber worship is bad news, and the Skinsaw Cult is particularly vile.

The cult’s base of operations is the Seven’s Sawmill (which feels like sort of an obvious name for a secret cult’s headquarters, doesn’t it?), a lumber mill along the shores of Kyver’s Islet in Magnimar. I’m surprised and impressed by the constraint here – the Seven’s Sawmill isn’t a sprawling dungeon, but rather a fairly contained 30’x45’ building with multiple floors. As with the Glassworks and Thistletop from Book 1, the PCs must decide when and how they want to approach and/or infiltrate the mill.  

Pathfinder is a highly tactical combat simulator of a system, so here the danger if you’re playing either edition of the gameis how easy it is to trigger multiple rooms and pile on encounters with the cultists. I’ll be using a more “theater of the mind” system to run it, so for me it’s about making the sawmill include 1-3 cool set piece battles as the party comes face to face with Norgorber-worshipping cultists. In the module the cultists are in full, dramatic attire, but I find that hard to believe. For me, the fun here is that the place initially looks like a regular log mill (since it is an operational mill) with laborers who may or may not be cultists. Deeper into the offices are the sinister bad guys, not in dramatic red-and-gold robes but certainly ready to spring into action with weapons and magic.

The mini-boss of the sawmill is Justice Ironbriar, an elven Magnimar judge who moonlights as the operational head of the Skinsaw Cult. If he was foreshadowed in the initial exploration of Magnimar, that will make this revelation even more surprising. I do think since Ironbriar is in the central offices, he’ll have time to don his “reaper mask” and look dramatic and scary as he confronts the PCs in the final sawmill showdown.

If the PCs manage to defeat Ironbriar without killing him, it’s clear that he’s been charmed by Xanesha and her thrall. If they somehow manage to break this spell, he can provide loads of information about her location and defenses in Magnimar. If not, or if the PCs kill him, I wonder if he might have some journals lying around? He does! My goodness, this is getting silly. Here, though, it makes some sense, since Ironbriar is a judge and thus prone to documentation. Not only does his office contain trophies from his various victims, but meticulous notes about the cult. Here the GM can answer any lingering questions about Foxglove and his murders on behalf of the Brothers, and it’s clear that a) Xanesha is the force behind the cult, and b) she resides atop a decrepit tower in Magnimar, called the Shadow Clock.

This chapter ends with various implications for the revelations that one of the city’s justices has led a murder cult. It’s up to the PCs how quiet or loud they want to be about exposing the Brothers of the Seven. If it’s a more lawful group that works with the local authorities, they’ll get an audience with Magnimar’s mayor and the City Watch’s help in vanquishing Xanesha. If not, they’ll need to keep a low profile so they don’t get implicated for the death of a judge. Either option is fun.

Chapter 7: Shadows of Time

Xanesha is one of two lamia sisters who are servants of the Runelord Karzoug, sent to harvest the souls of greed to help revive their lord. Whereas Lucrecia went to central Varisia, Xanesha began in the city of Magnimar with the Brothers of the Seven as her agents. She ultimately plots to harvest the soul of the city’s greedy mayor, and will continue to move towards broader and grander efforts until the PCs deal with her.

Sort of surprisingly, Xanesha has settled in the slums of Magnimar called Underbridge, which makes sense from a “keeping a low profile” standpoint but not in a “finding greedy souls” one. But the Shadow Clock is a cool, atmospheric location, a sagging limestone clock tower beneath an enormous iron bridge, a remnant of one of Magnimar’s many failed attempts to bring lawfulness to Underbridge. It’s obviously considered haunted by the locals and rumors about as to what’s taken residence there, and it’s here the PCs travel to confront Xanesha.

Once again, I’m surprised and impressed that the Shadow Clock isn’t a sprawling dungeon, but instead a 9-story tower with essentially a single room on each level, a staircase running along its perimeter. Xanesha has placed guardians for the PCs (and to prevent visitors), including a flesh golem (called “the Scarecrow,” which I find an odd choice given Chapter 3 of this book, so I’d likely reflavor it), more faceless stalkers (which are wasted here because of lack of subterfuge or surprise, so I’d likely replace these with different weird/gross thralls, or maybe ghouls) who drop one of the clock tower’s four bells down upon the PCs’ heads (fun hazard!), and, at the top of the tower, the lamia Xanesha.

Xanesha is a creature of subtlety and deception, so she watches the PCs take on her minions to gauge their abilities and eventually strikes from the shadows. She has illusory magic at her disposal, so the trick to this combat is to take the party by surprise and—at least in my imagination—have her true lamia form revealed mid-combat. It’s a tough sort of combat to pull off as a GM, but the payoff is a cool-ass boss battle.

Of course, Xanesha’s lair has loads of treasure (offerings from her various thralls, and to emphasize the sin of greed) and… you guessed it… a letter! This missive is from her sister, alerting the PCs to Lucrecia’s existence and their shared goal of raising their “lord” (who is Karzoug, and who I would have already revealed, especially if there are any Thassilonian scholars in the party to heighten the stakes). I am really starting to groan at this plot device, but Xanesha does indeed have a rookery from which she’s been sending letters all over the region, including to Foxglove, Ironbriar, and the rest of the Skinsaw Cult, so I guess it works here. There’s also plenty of evidence about her plan to harvest the mayor’s soul, so if the PCs have made a connection with Mayor Grobaras of Magnimar, they can be even bigger heroes and showered with gold for their efforts.

And that’s that. With Xanesha defeated and the Brothers of the Seven / Skinsaw Cult’s funding and leader gone, the PCs can return to Sandpoint. Either they’re also heroes of Magnimar or they have operated in the shadows, but either way they can’t seem to find any more information on Thassilon, Lucrecia, or Karzoug for now. They can finish up any Magnimar- or Sandpoint-based side plots and get some downtime, knowing the threat to the region is still very real.

Deconstructed The Skinsaw Murders

Once again using Plottr for visualization, here is where I landed on Book 2:

What begins as a murder investigation, then, turns into a tragic ghoul plague with a notable NPC from Book 1, controlled by a sinister murder cult from nearby Magnimar. The cult’s puppet master is one of several creatures sent into Varisia by Runelord Karzoug’s growing consciousness, to inscribe Sihedron Runes onto the flesh of greedy souls, their deaths fueling his return. Little does the party know that they will come to face all of these lieutenants, and eventually the Runelord himself.

I’m surprised and impressed with how much of The Skinsaw Murders I retained. I dropped Chapter 2 in its entirety, simplified Foxglove Manor, dropped some cumbersome backstory, and changed a few encounters. Otherwise, it’s pretty much the same, and should be an engrossing (and gross!) horror-themed few months for a gaming table. The next couple of books are unlikely to be as recognizable, so strap in!

I hope this long and winding journey continues to be fun for you. Please do drop a comment or email me at jaycms@yahoo.com!

Deconstructing: Burnt Offerings (Rise of the Runelords Book 1)

On By MagicJMSIn Adventure Path, Tabletop Roleplaying1 Comment

Rise of the Runelords series:

Rise of the Runelords Anniversary Edition by Wayne Reynolds, © 2012, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Used under the Community Use Policy

I’ve started collecting the Paizo Adventure Paths in earnest, and fully plan on running as many as I can before I shed this mortal coil. When I do so, I’ll be running them in a lighter heroic system (for my initial thoughts here, check out this post), and—since I’ll be converting them whole cloth anyway—plan to rewrite them heavily.

You see, I absolutely love Paizo’s APs, but I also fully agree with Tarondor when he says (emphasis mine), “Even the best, most complete Adventure Path demands customization for your players and for their player characters. Publishers can’t think of everything your players might like or might do. That’s what you, the GM, are for. Don’t regard an Adventure Path as a straitjacket. Regard it instead as a particularly good set of notes from which you derive your own story. If you pretend it’s supposed to be a complete package that requires no alterations or prep work and your game will be flat and lifeless, no matter how good the writing.”

Indeed, I’ll take this idea further and say that all APs suffer from too many combat encounters, a lack of foreshadowing villains and other major plot hooks, excess and unneeded story beats, and way too many places where the story and character motivations become convoluted. It’s easy for players to pause, a confused look on their faces, and say, “Wait, what are we doing here, again?” Taking out huge sections, NPCs, etc. often improves the AP rather than detracts from it. Doing so also makes room for more PC-driven stories and side quests, which can feel bolted onto the heavy AP plots.

As a result, welcome to a new project of mine: I’m going to read through each and every AP book I own and pull it into what I consider its essential parts. The result will be a massively pared-down adventure, ready to be fleshed out with details from the individual characters rather than pre-written bits. Essentially, consider these posts a narration of my process to pour over the Adventure Path and prepare to run it. When I’m done in seven days here, I should be essentially ready for Session 0.

But lo, there are caveats!

First and foremost, these edits are to my preference for the game that I want to run. What I consider “essential,” you may not, and vice-versa. You would make (or have made) different decisions, which, as the bold text above emphasizes, is both natural and part of the fun. Feel free to comment below if you see different opportunities.

Second, get ready to clutch your pearls. If you’ve run or played in Rise of the Runelords, I’m going to be deleting your favorite side quest, or NPC, or completely rewriting villain’s motivations and backstories. When I’m done, it’s not going to resemble the story you know.

Third, there will be rampant spoilers—in fact, once I dive in, these posts are essentially spoilers from start to finish. If you are a player in one of these APs or plan to be, these articles aren’t for you. (If you plan on GMing it, however… welcome!)

Finally, as I said from the outset, I don’t yet know what game system I’ll be using to run this Adventure Path, but it likely won’t be Pathfinder. Try not to get caught up in how dramatically I’m reducing the possible XP or treasure, or what I’m doing to CR of encounters.

Cool? Cool. Let’s get started!

Rise of the Runelords 1: Burnt Offerings

Burnt Offerings by Wayne Reynolds, © 2007, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Used under the Community Use Policy

We begin at the beginning! Rise of the Runelords is the very first Adventure Path set in Golarion, originally made for Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 Edition, published in six parts from August 2007 through January of 2008. Paizo also released an Anniversary Edition in 2012 for Pathfinder 1st Edition, which is what I own. In his own excellent Guide to Adventure Paths, Tarandor says, “There’s an anniversary edition, audiobooks, pawns, miniatures, plush dolls, maps, card games and a vast array of fan-made support materials. There is even a Deluxe Collector’s Edition covered in faux leather and fancy hardware. Rise of the Runelords is the quintessential adventure path.”

To deconstruct Book 1, Burnt Offerings (and all subsequent books), originally written by the incomparable James Jacobs, I’m going to be relying on Plottr, a writer’s software made to outline story arcs and beats. At the end of today’s post, I’ll show you what I’m seeing as I map out the adventure. In the meantime, I’ll be narrating my thought process.

Chapter 1: Festival and Fire

Our adventure begins in the town of Sandpoint, in the nation of Varisia. I’ll eventually write my own Player’s Guide when running this AP, but as far as I can tell, all PCs must be:

  1. Either Sandpoint locals or visitors who will want to get to know the locals. Sandpoint becomes a location the party will return to repeatedly, and the adventure presupposes you care about the town and its people.
  2. Heroes-in-waiting. Though their adventuring careers have not yet launched, these need to be characters who will, say, leap to defend the town from a goblin invasion instead of flee, hide, or take advantage of the chaos.

Other than that, all choices are on the table. The PCs can know each other or not, and be any sort of adventuring class. The party will be heavily pulled into both urban settings and harsh wilds, so all skills and abilities are welcome. I’d probably steer the party towards the most common ancestries—particularly human, since that’s the primary population of Sandpoint—but anything could work. Anyway, it will be fun, once I decide on a system, to figure out what sort of background hooks at character creation to dangle in front of players to more deeply tie them into the story. The three that scream out after reading the entire AP are:

  • If at least one PC can be keenly interested in regional history or Thassilonian history specifically, the payoffs throughout the story will be huge, and it will be easy to motivate the party towards several story beats. The more fascination with history the party has, the more their characters will love what happens.
  • Later in the AP, the story tackles the “seven sins and seven virtues” directly, and the story loosely ties to greed as a central sin. If a character is a greedy soul (keeping in mind, all PCs are fundamentally heroes)—or a particularly charitable one and anti-greed, like Robin Hood—there will be truly interesting decisions throughout the story. If a PC showcases a different sin or virtue in their motivations, there will be less consistent spotlights on them throughout the AP, but Book 5 will be a ton of fun.
  • If a PC has some sort of enmity or history with goblins, ghouls, ogres, or giants, they’ll have a grand time at various points in the AP. I wouldn’t tip the players off to this idea directly, but if there is an opportunity to nudge or replace (e.g. a PC says their parents were killed by trolls, switch it to ogres), I’d do so.

The first scene involves the party attending the annual Swallowtail Festival. This year’s festival has particular significance because the day ends with the consecration of a new cathedral, which replaces the one that burned down (part of the Late Unpleasantness that plagued Sandpoint five years ago). There are welcome speeches, festival games, the swallowtail release, lunch, and, finally, the consecration. I would keep everything described in the book (except the local nobleman Lonjiku Kaijitsu bowing out of the speeches… more on him in a bit). It all sounds like great fun, and a nice way to introduce the players to the setting and Sandpoint’s cast of characters.

As the consecration begins, the goblins that have been sneakily infiltrating the town… Attack! Egads! Goblin raid! Here the PCs swing into action and help protect the town, fighting off goblins, goblin pyros, more goblins, a goblin warchanter, still more goblins, and a goblin commando riding a goblin dog, all back-to-back-to-back in at least three linked encounters. During the chaos, they save the local nobleman Aldern Foxglove, someone who’s important in Book 2. The goblins flee, and the innkeeper Ameiko Kaijutsu offers the party free rooms at the Rusty Dragon for saving the town.

Here is where I start making changes:

  • The specific encounters are going to vary based on what system I choose to run. The important bits are a) play up the chaos of the scene, goblins everywhere, b) keep the “party fights waves of goblins” diverse and interesting so that the combat doesn’t drag, and c) make sure Foxglove gets saved. No problem and check.
  • Apparently, the goblins are aided by Tsuto Kaijitsu, son of local Lonjiku Kaitjitsu, and brother to Ameiko, who is an important NPC. The son has bribed Lonjiku to miss the festival and stay home. I’m not sure if either Tsuto or his father’s involvement in the story is necessary, especially given the pages and pages of complex behind-the-scenes activities each has and will do. Couldn’t the goblins have just snuck in and attacked, following Nualia’s (the BBEG of this book) orders? I’m dropping Tsuto’s involvement entirely, especially because I don’t love the only Asian-coded characters (except Ameiko) in the story being bad guys.
  • While the raid is happening, Tsuto leads a group of goblins into the cemetery to steal a priest’s corpse, which Nualia is going to use to start transforming into a demon. This detail is a good example of where I think AP plots get unnecessarily dense. Especially with the father-son Kaijutsu evil-doing gone, I’ll drop this bit too.

Chapter 2: Local Heroes 

For the next week(s), the PCs are local celebrities. Here there are tons of opportunities to bring Sandpoint to life, make the players connect emotionally with NPCs, and provide downtime. Part of the aftermath in the module is for Sheriff Baylor Hemlock and the PCs to discover the stolen corpse, and encounter skeletons that Tsuto summoned with a magical item to wait for them. Again… I just think all of this is too hard for the PCs to figure out and the whole skeleton thing feels forced to insert an unnecessary combat. I’ll drop it.

I do like many of the other side plots the book dangles in front of the PCs: The first involves Shayliss Vinder trying to get a PC alone to seduce them, only for Shayliss’ protective father and owner of the Sandpoint General Store Vin discovering the encounter and intervening. It’s a great and complicated social situation that could turn out several different ways.

The second side plot involves Aldern Foxglove seeking out the party to thank them for saving him, inviting them to join him on a boar hunt. If they agree, they all ride out to the Tickwood Forest and have a boar hunt! Great way to connect with Foxglove and do some skill checks (or even a non-goblin combat encounter).

I’m more ambivalent about a third suggested plot, in which a goblin from the raids hides in a boy’s closet until it becomes feral and kills the family dog. Then it kills the boy’s father, and the party cleans out the pest. It’s a fine way for there to be a sort of aftermath of the raid, but otherwise it doesn’t really serve a point except being horrible. I think as a GM I’d have this idea in my back pocket, but likely not use it.

Instead, the module encourages the GM to add whatever additional encounters fit the PCs using the detailed Sandpoint overview (and there’s also a Sandpoint campaign supplement available!), in which there are tons of hooks, and I’d dip into these ideas liberally for 1-3 additional downtime happenings. The goal of whatever side quests happen should be to a) provide real flavor to Sandpoint and its people for use throughout the AP, b) further raise (and complicate) the PC’s standing in the town, and c) because of what I’m cutting from Chapter 3, weave in some non-goblin combat. Some example ideas of countless possible additions to this chapter:

  • Naffer Vosk, keeper of the Sandpoint Boneyard, is experiencing a minor haunting problem the PCs can handle. A true side quest that can involve battling (or negotiating with) undead.
  • Brodert Quink (scholar), Veznutt Parooh (librarian), Ilsoari Gandethus (teacher and ex-adventurer) have a heated disagreement about a point of ancient Thassilonian history as it relates to Sandpoint. Perhaps the PCs can do some investigation and settle the dispute? Good opportunity to reveal some of the complex backstory of the region and explore Sandpoint’s history, along with a combat encounter of some kind.
  • The half-orc dungsweeper Gorvi has been drunkenly harassing women along the boardwalk recently. Mayor Kendra Deverin asks the party to speak to him – the town needs his services, but she fears he’s grown both bitter and entitled. An example of the sort of complex social situation that could result in several different outcomes.
  • Jargie Quinn invites the party to a night of revelry at her tavern, the Hagfish. There are games aplenty for the party to participate in, and of course the notorious dare to drink water from the hagfish Norah’s tank, all with Sandpoint’s locals egging them on. If your party likes skill challenges, here you go!
  • Ameiko keeps a “Help Wanted” board displayed in the Rusty Dragon. Easy place for a one-off side quest that leads to non-goblin combat, particularly using the detailed Sandpoint Hinterlands map from the module.
  • Sheriff Hemlock asks the party to check out some shady business going down involving an underground network of scoundrels called the Sczarni (think the Mob). The party heads to the Fatman’s Feedbag and breaks up a bar brawl, then busts up a poison-selling business happening out of Pillbug’s Pantry. The trick here is not to have this side quest spill into something spanning its own long campaign arc, but any Sczarni plots can pick up when the party later visits Magnimar, and with the poison there’s a chance to connect it to Norgorber worship in Book 2.
  • The seer Niska Mvashti has had a vision pertaining to the party. Will they brave her decrepit and scary manor house to hear it? Good chance to foreshadow something later in the AP, or to hook a PC’s backstory into Sandpoint.
  • Cydrak Drokkus, owner of the Sandpoint Theater, is attracted to the party’s recent celebrity and tries to entice them to star in his next play. (this idea fully stolen from the Legacy of the Ancients podcast)

There’s a point within the module in which a drunken Lonjiku comes into the Rusty Dragon and fights with Ameiko. This encounter is fine if you’re keeping the whole “Kaijitsu men as bad guys” stuff, which I’m not. It’s a heck of a lot easier to portray Ameiko as a bad-ass foreigner who has settled into Sandpoint. Doing so means more changes later, but I’m totally comfortable with those tweaks.

Eventually, the elven bounty hunter Shalelu Andosana (important NPC who will appear again in Book 3) visits the town and provides intelligence to the mayor about activities in the hinterlands. She’s particularly concerned about the increased goblin raids in other neighboring communities. The news is about five goblin tribes working together—which may or may not have been obvious during the Sandpoint raid, but is a good thing to foreshadow—a sign that someone (we’ll later find out it’s Nualia) is organizing them. The Sheriff then heads to the city of Magnimar to see about securing additional soldiers to protect the town and asks Shalelu to keep an eye out on the wilds. He also asks the “Heroes of Sandpoint” to protect the town while he’s gone. Before she heads out, Shalelu invites the PCs to dinner, which is an opportunity to dump a bunch of goblin lore, including foreshadowing goblin “heroes” the PCs will eventually face, one of which is the magic-longsword-wielding Koruvus, which the party will recognize from the raid (more on that detail in a bit). All these scenes are great, from my perspective.

While the Sheriff is out of town, in the module as written the PCs are meant to discover Ameiko missing – she’s been kidnapped by her brother Tsuto after a wild set of activities that happened “off camera” that the PCs will never really discover or understand. Again, I don’t love the foreigners being the evildoers, nor do I love the “damsel in distress” stuff. If I’m dropping Ameiko’s father and brother from the landscape, it’s more straightforward to have the PCs be informed that goblins have been seen at the Sandpoint Glassworks, which sets up the next chapter. The PCs know goblins are menacing the area, so it’s an easy hook. Perhaps the raiding goblins never actually left the town and have been using the Glassworks as a base of operations, healing and plotting the next attack? That idea is cleaner.

Chapter 3: Glass and Wrath

This chapter begins with a lengthy history of the Sandpoint Glassworks, Lonjiku Kaijitsu’s business, and Tsuto’s evil machinations. Again, I’m dropping this entire backstory. It’s a bridge too far for me to see a wealthy businessman’s son becoming infatuated with a monster-worshipping madwoman, and somehow having the skills to act as diplomatic liaison to goblin tribes who hate “longshanks.” In the module as written somehow both men come up with plans to kill each other, and then, after Tsuto wins, the brother and several goblins sneak into the inn and kidnap Ameiko.

In my story, after the raid the goblins simply retreated to the Glassworks to lick their wounds, and the town has been so distracted by the aftermath and the PCs celebrity (and various gossip-worthy side plots) to notice the infestation. I might even drop hints earlier, rumors of goblin-sightings in town that sound like paranoid residents more than reality. Then, an NPC that emerges from Chapter 2 will provide a credible rumor: There’s definitely goblins in the Glassworks, and no one has seen the owner (who can be a new or different NPC than Lonjiku) since the raid. Oddly, though, there’s been smoke billowing from the building’s chimney the whole time!

The rest of the chapter is the infiltration by the PCs into the Glassworks and dealing with the goblins. Paizo APs—as with any D&D-inspired adventures—are littered with dungeon crawls, and here is the first one, a 23-room building infested with baddies. How much of it I keep will largely be determined by a) what system I’m using, as some TTRPG systems make dungeon-crawling more fun than others, and b) my players’ appetites for room-by-room dungeons. Assuming I’m playing a system that supports a “theater of the mind” sort of dungeon crawl, here are the bits I like from this chapter:

  • The overall layout is fun, and a glassworking room with a burning furnace is ripe for a cinematic and interesting combat, probably the boss-fight (see below).
  • Like the goblin raid, the trick here is to figure out how many goblins populate the Glassworks and find interesting situations—based on the PCs’ approach and plan—to fight them. The book does a splendid job of making Golarion goblins fun and interesting, so there are loads of possibilities to make Gremlins-like encounters. The location also provides fun props: the furnace, broken glass, glass constructs, tools, hot tongs, etc.

What I’m first changing, obviously, is the dungeon boss. Gone is Tsuto Kaijitsu and a kidnapped Ameiko. Instead, the goblins are being led by one of those “heroes” that Shalelu told the party about over dinner: Koruvus, who I’m eliminating from the next section of the story. As a result, I’ll say Koruvus led the earlier raid on Sandpoint. I’ll also add a note to show off Koruvus during the raid, so the PCs will recognize him.

Now, goblins don’t like writing, which is a small issue with the absence of Tsuto. In my story, Nualia has drawn several maps that Koruvus has been trying to follow, which outlines her plans to invade Sandpoint and other surrounding towns. Importantly, it also shows the stronghold where the goblins have been gathering: Thistletop. There’s some opportunity for comedy, since maybe Nualia’s plan was better than what the goblins actually tried. Anyway, here is the first the PCs will learn that someone has indeed been orchestrating the goblins, as Shalelu suspected. They’ll also have a name or symbol to link back to Nualia.

While exploring the Glassworks, the PCs should discover smugglers’ tunnels that have been blockaded. In the module as written, beyond these tunnels are the Catacombs of Wrath, another dungeon. There are a lot of confusing elements to this additional dungeon for me. First, it links directly to ancient Thassilonian ruins from thousands and thousands of years prior, somehow preserved and pristine. There is a “minor runewell,” to be contrasted with a “major runewell” later in the adventure, but the PCs will never really understand these distinctions. Second, the caverns are linked to the Runelord of Wrath (there are seven Runelords, one for each classic sin), Alaznist, whereas the rest of the AP focuses on the Runelord of Greed, Karzoug. Once again, we have a complicated backstory for what this place is and how it’s led by a quasit minion who worked for a double-agent cleric of Lamashtu. There are dozens of interesting-but-weird features to the Catacombs that the PCs will never sort out, including the aforementioned goblin-hero Koruvus, who stumbled into the Catacombs of Wrath, drank corrupted waters from an altar, and became an insane, twisted monster. Like, what!? It’s just bonkers-complex, and I can’t see how it advances the main plot with Nualia or does anything but absolutely bewilder the PCs.

As far as I can tell, there are three main purposes for the wild side-dungeon of the Catacombs of Wrath:

  1. It introduces ancient Thassilon ruins beneath Sandpoint, as well as the idea of the Runelords (and their connection to the monster goddess Lamashtu).
  2. The party gets MOAR! dungeon crawling and battles against something other than goblins.
  3. In Book 5, there is a sinkhole that reveals another level to this dungeon, Lamashtu’s Shrine, which the party will explore.

I’m not at all worried about #3, as for me it’s easier and more believable for a sinkhole to simply reveal ruins on their own (also, spoiler alert: I’ve heavily reworked this part of Book 5). I can keep the smuggler’s tunnels being blockaded, but completely inaccessible until Book 5, keeping some foreshadowing but without the (in my opinion, unnecessary) distraction. I also don’t feel the need to tip the adventure’s hand on ancient Thassilon or Runelords quite yet. The AP is called “Rise of the Runelords,” after all: there will be Runelord-foreshadowing aplenty. In addition, the Caverns push the module into feeling too dungeon-heavy, after what were delightful character-driven plots earlier. Finally, I strongly suspect the party will be depleted after the Glassworks so, what? They go sleep at the inn and then return to same location? I don’t like it at all.

Interestingly, what I’m most concerned about when dropping the Caverns of Wrath is overreliance on goblins as the sole antagonist (and note that I’m not tackling the “goblins as sentient monsters needing to be exterminated” problem, which run throughout the first half of the AP… to run Rise of the Runelord is to accept a Sandpoint-versus-goblins conflict). With cutting the skeletons from the cemetery, Tsuto, and the Caverns, I’m leaving only goblin combats. That could get boring and repetitive, especially given what’s coming in Chapter 4 of this book. As mentioned, I’ll weave non-goblin threats into Chapter 2, but it’s something to watch.

Which brings us to…

Chapter 4: Thistletop

The party should get some time to recover from the Glassworks, sharing the discovery of the coordinated goblin tribes and their stronghold at Thistletop. There’s an opportunity here to continue whatever story beats emerged in Chapter 2 as well. The PCs can wait for Sheriff Hemlock to return or not – basically, the level of urgency is in their hands. That said, I’d probably have the town urge them to deal with it relatively quickly, as the Glassworks revelation shows that Sandpoint is going to be in constant danger until the goblins are dealt with. Thistletop is only six miles from the town!

Eventually, then, the party travels the Lost Coast Road to Thistletop. The way is plagued on the coast by tangles of nettlewood and poisonous plants, so there’s an opportunity to do some overland skill checks and exploration. The module suggests not adding encounters to the journey, but I might insert a wildlife encounter of some kind, again to break up the focus on goblin combat.

Thistletop is “a curiously round island about 60 feet offshore, connected to the mainland by a rope bridge.” There is, again, a fantastically complex backstory to the island, but it amounts to the place being part of the Runelord Karzoug’s territory, and the structure itself is the head of a long-ago toppled sentinel statue. A lot of the complexity is needless and stuff the players will never uncover, but it being a former Karzoug stronghold is cool, and I like the idea that the goblins don’t really understand why they gather here or the ancient ruins they’re sitting on.

The coastal area across the bridge and the primary complex of Thistletop is a large 40-room “outdoor dungeon.” The PCs must decide how they’ll navigate the tangled nettlewood and approach the stronghold – across the bridge, across the water, or through goblin tunnels? I like the tactical strike-team aspect of this setup, though I’d probably discuss the party’s plan, then drop them in media res like a Blades in the Dark heist rather than treat it as a square-by-square crawl.

As you can imagine, there are a lot of goblin encounters around and within Thistletop. Depending on the system I’m using and how the table feels about more gobbos, I’d adjust what’s in the module. Ones I particularly like:

  • A goblin druid (and advisor to the goblin chief) Gogmurt and his cougar Tangletooth, who have a lair on the coast.
  • The rope bridge is, of course, rigged to topple bigger creatures into the water. And in the water is a prowling bunyip the goblins feed things to. Love it.
  • Goblin patrols riding goblin dogs. I love the idea that several tribes are trying to coexist in Thistletop, so I’d amp up the friction and flavorful differences between the goblins (this theme will continue in Books 4 and 6, so it’s good to practice these dynamics here).
  • In the stronghold itself, a pen of captured and tortured horses (Golarion goblins hate horses), including a warhorse named Silvermist. The warhorse has already killed several goblins who tried to harass it and is a fun potential ally / mount / animal companion.
  • A throne room battle with Warchief Ripnugget, who rides his giant gecko Stickfoot! He also carries a silver holy symbol of the goddess Lamashtu, given to him by Nualia.
  • A “harem room” with Ripnugget’s four wives, who are currently entertaining the bugbear Bruthazmus. I like the idea of adding some feral goblin children here or in an adjacent room, which is a more complicated encounter for a moral party.

There are other parts I’d likely cut, such as a big crowd of goblin refugees whose chief died in the Sandpoint raid, a human mercenary named Orik Vancaskerkin and a human spellcaster Lyrie Akenja  (again, goblins hate longshanks, and I would want to emphasize Nualia’s monstrous associations, not her human ones… you’ll see me cutting humans loyal to Karzoug a lot in this AP), and a creature called a tentamort that Nualia incongruously allows to prowl in the goblin portion of the stronghold.

Eventually, the heroes will make their way to the lower portions of the stronghold. Here the décor becomes more civilized, better maintained though obviously ancient (a cool detail is that the floors are all slanted in this part of the ruins, since it was destroyed in the cataclysm Earthfall that destroyed the Thassilonian empire), and Lamashtu-themed. Nualia has been residing in this section, keeping some distance from the goblin horde. For me, this is where the payoff of Nualia comes in… and the opponents change as dramatically as the surroundings. No more goblins from here on out… only monstrous awfulness.

That said, I’m not sure if I’d keep the dungeon as-is for Level 2 (where Nualia is). There are traps that feel old-school D&D and I’d have to decide if they fit, plus decidedly too few monsters. Maybe I’d move the tentacular tentamort here, along with another twisted mutant or demon of some kind (the book has a yeth hound, but I’m saving inhabitants of the dimension Leng until Book 6). The point is that Nualia keeps this area for her own monstrous beasties and, eventually, they must face the cleric of Lamashtu herself. Nualia will need to monologue a bit to get across her motivations, but it’s important for her to a) talk up her zealous following of the Mother of Monsters and desire to transform into a half-fiend herself, and b) invoke Karzoug’s name somehow and show herself as tainted by greed. There are also the telltale (and almost trope-y) notes she’ll leave behind, which can further detail her backstory. After Nualia is dead or has fled, there’s a nice half-flooded treasure room with a giant hermit-crab which I’ll keep, especially given how many treasure-worthy encounters I’m cutting from earlier in the book.

Paizo does this thing in APs that I find curious: inserting a deadly encounter either right before or after the Big Boss Battle with a creature that is either as difficult or more than the Big Boss. It’s… peculiar. Here, after finding the room in which Nualia has been performing her awful rituals of transformation and self-mutilation, there is a prison with a greater barghest named Malfeshnekor. This creature has a complicated backstory (again, tied to the Runelord Alaznist, not Karzoug!) and is notoriously one of the deadliest in the AP. So, you know what? I don’t see any reason to keep it at all. Once the party has defeated Nualia and braved the crab-guarding treasure chamber (which I like as a nod towards the sin of greed), the battle is won and the stronghold is conquered.

With Nualia gone, the fragile truce of the various goblin tribes dissolves and the threat to Sandpoint is neutralized. The Heroes of Sandpoint return to fanfare, wrapping up whatever character-driven story beats need wrapping up. It’s time for some well-earned downtime for the party.

I really like this bit from the module itself as a final thought: “Relatively little involving the metaplot of Rise of the Runelords occurs during the course of Burnt Offerings. Although the chapter’s events are closely tied to Karzoug’s awakening, and certain characters in the adventure have ties to characters whom the PCs are destined to meet later in the campaign, the adventure’s primary purpose is to introduce them to their new home of Sandpoint and to instill in them a desire to protect it and its citizens.” I agree wholeheartedly that a lot of the actual Runelord plot can wait, and this book should instead be about becoming embedded in Sandpoint and establishing the party as heroes. If they can transition from goblin hunters to full monster hunters along the way, all the better.

Deconstructed Burnt Offerings

So, when the dust settles on book one of my first AP, here is what I see in Plottr:

At its most bare bones, it’s basically the tale of a monster-worshipping villain orchestrating goblin tribes to harass the community. The heroes are caught in the initial raid, eventually finding their way to the heart of the threat to eliminate it. Along the way, the party becomes embedded in the community of Sandpoint, learns some of its deep and troubling history, and uncover hints at an ancient evil from ages long past. That brief summary sounds like one of the more classic and fun ways to begin a campaign!

Since we’re just beginning, if you find yourself annoyed by what I’ve cut or changed, I’ll earnestly remind you of the caveats at the top of the article. That said, if you’ve made different choices as GM, I’d love to hear it. Speaking of which, I’m still feeling my way in this series, please do drop a comment or email me at jaycms@yahoo.com with any and all thoughts.

Choosing a Light Heroic System, Part 2: 13th Age

On By MagicJMSIn Tabletop Roleplaying3 Comments

Last month, I wrote about a new project that’s been niggling at my brain.

A brief recap: I found myself able to purchase a number of complete Paizo Adventure Paths at a big discount. But—although Pathfinder 2e is a system I know deeply—I don’t have interest in the intensely-crunchy, prep-heavy work of GMing a complete AP in PF2e (which I’ve done before). Instead, I’m on the hunt for a tabletop game with the following features:

  • allows for crazy (super-)heroic stunts without the crunch
  • fun to GM and easy to make stuff (like monsters, hazards, etc.)
  • suitable for a long campaign (i.e. has some sort of character progression or at least the players won’t get bored with overly simplistic mechanics)
  • can’t be tied too deeply into a setting – my intention is to keep the Golarion lore of the APs mostly intact

In other words, I’m looking for a system that is both interesting and complex enough that it can handle long-form storytelling, but light enough that I don’t have to spend hundreds of hours prepping.

Last month’s article explored Daggerheart, a game that I like far more than I expected to. In fact, after one of my weekly groups finished playing through the Sky King’s Tomb AP in PF2e, they were kind enough to let me run a test session of Daggerheart, with me converting the intro adventure in Paizo’s Beginner Box, called Menace Under Otari. This experiment was both a test of how fun the game is to GM and play, but also how easy it is to convert from PF2e to Daggerheart. It was a great success, and the group asked for a second session to keep going. So, as I mentioned in the previous post, I may have already discovered my system of choice on the first try.

That said, I’ve purchased four additional games to explore, so explore them I shall. If I’m going to dedicate years of my life leaning into a game playing the expansive Paizo APs, I want to feel good about my due diligence. What’s funny is that, because of inventory shortages and shipping delays, I am receiving each game staggered over months. These delays have made my ability to sit down and really absorb each book easy, without the others staring at me from The Stack (games I’ve bought but haven’t read yet).

The second game to appear on my doorstep is… 13th Age, 2e!

13th Age, Second Edition

Cover of the 13th Age 2e Heroes' Handbook

13th Age, unlike Daggerheart, is not at all a new game. Pelgrane Press (also known for the Gumshoe system) first released it in 2013, but somehow the game completely eluded my radar until it released its second edition last year. Apparently, this second edition is compatible with everything from 1e, which means there are literally dozens of supplement books to expand upon the new Heroes’ Handbook and Gamemaster’s Guide. I’m not literate enough in the differences to know how easy it is to convert content between the two editions, but it’s cool and impressive that you can do so.

13th Age is a d20 system, and so the base mechanics will be familiar to pretty much any TTRPG enthusiast. I’m surprised at how few reviews I found of the second edition, but check out this excellent overview from Scroll for Initiative and this one from TTRPG Thoughts. Both give you a sense of where 13th Age veers away from D&D 5e, simplifying the mechanics to make it less about tactical, grid-based combat and more of a story game. I’ve been hooked on Sly Flourish’s podcast recently, and he’s said that 13th Age 1e is one of his absolute favorite games to run and GM, and keeps teasing a review of 2e. When he delivers the review, I’ll link it here.

When I initially posted my quest for a new system on Reddit, 13th Age was one of the most-suggested systems for me to explore. As I mentioned the game to friends, my buddy Rob got excited, as it’s also a system he’s wanted to check out. I had the same dizzying feeling diving into 13th Age as I did when I first discovered Dungeon Crawl Classics – I consume SO much TTRPG media, how had I not known about this game until now!? Our hobby is so relatively small, and yet bafflingly vast.

Why 13th Age Works For Me

Anyway, 13th Age 2e turns out to be a game that is very, very cool. Like the reviews I linked above, I’m going to spotlight some of the mechanics I think are particularly great, and how they work with my Adventure Path dreams.

Icons – In 13th Age, the GM defines the powerful entities shaping the world in which the PCs are adventuring. These can be everything from the Queen of the Elves, the High Priest of Abador, the local thieves’ guild head, or even the devil-god Asmodeus. It’s an acknowledgement that every fantasy story has these near-mythical figures in the background, shaping the world. In 13th Age, however, each PC is explicitly linked to at least one of these Icons, and this connection has mechanical impact on the story and game.

The entire conceit of Icons is so cool, I’m bewildered when I read 13th Age forums that many GMs don’t bother with them. For my purposes, it sounds like an absolute blast to define the Icons for a given Adventure Path, and to include them in whatever Player’s Guide I create. Indeed, even if I don’t end up using 13th Age for my campaigns, I’m probably stealing this idea.

Image from the 13th Age 2e Gamester's Guide cover

Simplified… Most Things – Any game I choose for this project is going to do things like abstract ranges during combat, allow players to roll for checks based on their general background instead of tied to explicit skills, and hand-wave crunchy mechanics. 13th Age, however, really tries to lean away from the stuff that slows games down. Gear is massively simplified, and distinction between most weapons and armor is mostly flavor. Damage is flat instead of rolled, which occurs to me is a huge speed boost. Monster stat blocks are shorter, easy to hack, and focused on interesting, unique abilities. There are “mooks,” which can get mowed down in large numbers. All these features, to me, take away the crunchy bits that bog down many d20 game experiences, especially higher-level combat. The game still has a big spotlight on combat encounters, but it does its best to not make every session dominated by them.

The Escalation Die – Relatedly, a small mechanic that demonstrates the underlying goals of 13th Age’s design is the Escalation Die. On Turn 2, all PCs get a +1 to attack rolls. The next turn it’s +2. Etc. etc. The result is both a) shorter combats, and b) increasing dramatic action in the later rounds of combat, all tilted towards the heroic characters. I love how it encourages players to hold onto big one-shot abilities instead of blowing them all on Turn 1. This is the sort of feature that makes OSR-lover’s heads explode but works perfectly for a game meant to be more like the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Narrative Arcs and Recoveries – Something a lot of more modern games do is make healing and recovery its own minigame. In 13th Age, PCs begin with 8-9 “recoveries,” which are essentially an auto-heal, and often let you reset lost powers. As a result, 13th Age parties don’t need a dedicated healer like in most d20 games, and this mechanic avoids unnatural rest-stops in the action, keeping characters pressing forward through dramatic arcs. Then, when a party finishes an “arc” (which is story-based, usually containing 3-4 encounters), everyone receives a Full Heal-Up. The focus, then, is on the momentum of the story, not resource-depletion or nights at an inn. As a GM, the game asks you to set up each PC level-up based on a number of arcs (which can be one-arc-per-level for short campaigns or multiple-arcs-per-level for longer ones), which fits perfectly within the structure of an Adventure Path. Like Daggerheart, 13th Age only has 10 total levels available to PCs, which I’m realizing is another common feature of modern games and something I like.

One Unique Thing – Finally, something many people highlight in 13th Age discussions in the “One Unique Thing” during character creation – something about each PC that is utterly distinct in the campaign and explicitly agreed upon between the player and GM. Maybe they’re the only surviving prince of a lost nation, or have a twin separated at birth, or are destined to wield the Blade of Dreams… whatever. It’s a firm statement that these PCs are different from the other inhabitants of the land in which they live. They’re special. They’re heroes. Unlike Icons, the One Unique Thing aspect of a character doesn’t have mechanical impact on the game per se, but it’s a flavorful and fun way to encourage players to think big, and gives GMs loads of potential hooks for the story. Oh, and I should say that Level 1 characters in 13th Age are bad-ass… this is not a d20 game where you need to wait until Level 3-4 for your character to feel powerful.

All these features add up to a game that looks like a d20 game at first blush, but which pushes players and GMs to embrace the over-the-top-ness of heroic fantasy, all while speeding up the combat bits so they don’t dominate each session. That all sounds perfect for running Paizo APs, honestly.

My 13th Age Concerns

By far the biggest concern as I gleefully read the new books is that 13th Age, while focusing on speeding up the game, is still by far the crunchiest game of the ones I’m considering. Or, put another way, I’m convinced that 13th Age plays faster than other d20 games, but is it simpler to run for the GM?

Take the sample character, Alyssa the human paladin, that becomes the focus of the tutorial front matter of the Heroes’ Handbook: It’s a busy character sheet, with three Talents, two Backgrounds, and five Features/Powers/Spells, on top of six Ability Scores, three Defense scores, two Icon relationships, weapons, Recoveries, Hit Points, etc. That’s a level ONE character, and already a lot for any player to track, much less for a GM across a party of 3-5 PCs, plus monsters, hazards, etc. In combat, there are free actions, move actions, standard actions, and interrupt actions, there’s delaying and readying actions, there are opportunity attacks, and there are “special action” combat maneuvers like rallying and combat assists. Add a whole bunch of supplemental material from 1e and more 2e books on the way, and I worry about substituting one prep-heavy system for a slightly-less-but-still-burdensome one. Maybe it’s just because I’m new to the system and haven’t taken 13th Age for a test run, but the cognitive load on running the game seems high, which is the opposite of what I want.

The monsters give me a little hope in this regard. Flipping through the Gamemaster’s Guide, the entries aren’t overwhelming to consume: Even demons, dragons, giants, and other high-level critters have relatively few things to remember. And though there are additional “Nastier” abilities available to spring on a party, nothing I saw felt like the page-long entries of D&D 5e and Pathfinder. When I was running a 1-20 campaign in PF2e, it got to a place where I dreaded high-level battles because of the sheer number of things I had to remember to make the combat interesting. The complexity feels high in 13th Age on the PC side of the equation, but not so much on the monster side. Indeed, the monster entries for 13th Age, I’m suddenly realizing, are probably simpler to run than in Daggerheart.

My second concern is that on forums I’ve seen a handful of 13th Age GMs say that, at some point in the campaign, the PCs basically became unkillable, and it’s a struggle to properly challenge them. I’m all for a heroic—even superheroic—game, but epic stories come from peril and stakes. If the party can shrug off the BBEG and their vast hordes without breaking a sweat, the game ultimately isn’t fun for anyone. What’s more problematic about this issue is that it only rears its head after dozens of game sessions, at which point there’s a sunk cost in the system.

Ultimately, the only way I’ll really figure out my comfort with 13th Age’s complexity and power creep is to both play and GM it. I think that I’ll do what I did for Daggerheart—try converting part of the Pathfinder Beginner Box’s intro adventure, Menace Under Otari, and run a one-shot. Doing so will large skirt the Icon and One Unique Thing features, but will at least give me a sense of how prepping a game feels, how crunchy combat is, and how satisfying non-combat scenes are. I’m cautiously optimistic!

One Game to Launch My Journey

Despite my earlier bravado, in the darkest shadows of my soul I have a suspicion that I haven’t found my lighter heroic system yet. Daggerheart is super fun, but there are idiosyncrasies when running it that puzzle me (check out this awesome review that came out since my last post, which does a nice job explaining some of my head-scratching), and 13th Age feels like an awesome medium-crunch game, not necessarily as light as I want it to be. If I were going to put my bet on a system, it’s going to be Nimble, but that’s the fifth and last game to hit my physical mailbox. In the meantime, this is a puzzle that I will continue to ponder. As problems go, this system challenge is a delightful one. I’ll check back in a month or so with a new system to explore.

Please comment below or send an email to jaycms@yahoo.com with any feedback.

ToC32: Two Days

On By MagicJMSIn Fantasy Fiction, Tabletop Roleplaying, Tales of Calvenor3 Comments

[game-notes version here]

Artwork by © anaislalovi. All rights reserved

XXXII.

Thawmere 12, Wyrdsday, Year 732

“Running was a dumb move, lass,” Maelen muttered grumpily. The warrior peered out of the smoked glass of the chandlery, the window speckled with old wax and soot. The smell of tallow and beeswax hung heavily in the air.

“You’ve only said it half a dozen times,” Vessa replied sourly, crossing her arms. “And okay… I panicked.”

“Not like you,” Maelen squinted. “You’ve had a warrant on your head before.”

“It wasn’t the warrant,” she whispered fiercely. Vessa’s eyes darted to the chandlery’s proprietor, a balding, middle-aged man with a long neck like a turtle. He saw her looking and swallowed hard, turning to needlessly busy himself with shelves crowded with candles, blocks of wax, and little jars of resin. They’d paid him a handful of silver to let the two of them stand in his store and watch the Heart & Dagger’s front door, but she still worried what he might say to a City Watch official if questioned.

An older woman in flowing red robes entered the chandlery with the tinkle of a bell. Maelen and Vessa pretended to be looking at candles as she passed them. She paused and regarded them.

“Ah, Sister Hestara!” the chandler said in greeting, his voice nasal. “A little early for your monthly visit, isn’t it?”

Vessa’s back was to the woman as she did her best to look innocuous. The customer said nothing for a long while, then exhaled audibly. When she spoke, her voice was rich and full. “Yes, Mister Fenn, it is. I was… well, you might say I felt inspired as I passed by this evening. Do you mind if I browse?”

The conversation went on behind them and Vessa leaned close to Maelen. “It wasn’t the warrant,” she repeated in a low whisper. “It was the man! This Brannic, he was there that night, in the alley, don’t you remember?”

Maelen scowled and turned away from the window. “What? Part of the merchant boy’s crew?”

Vessa waved a no and shook her head. “No, just in the alley. I think maybe he was their mark.”

The warrior thought about it, frowning. She leaned over and peered again out of the smudged window, to watch those entering the tavern next door. Eventually, she muttered. “Why would a book merchant’s son try to beat up an Iron Thorn agent? It makes no sense. Anyway, running was still dumb. Who cares if he was in the alley?”

Vessa sighed and took a step to where she could see out between two thick white candles upon a shelf. With the evening twilight and the smudgy glass, it wasn’t the easiest view, but she figured either Alric or Brannic would be easy enough to spot. Her eyes flicked left. Near the Lakeshore Walk, a narrow stone-and-plank promenade that curved around the perimeter of Lake Miran, sat a worn stone bench. Reclining against the bench, arms folded in the chill air, was Rusk. Vessa thought that, if they were going to quickly intercept Alric, it would be best if the hired thug wasn’t with them. Besides, an extra pair of eyes outside always helped.

“Excuse me? Ma’am?” that full, rich voice said from a stride away. Both Maelen and Vessa turned to see the woman in red robes. She was an attractive older woman, perhaps of fifty years, with a defined jaw and intense, pale blue eyes framed by brown hair pulled back in a braid. The clothes were exceptionally well-made, heavy wool with a faint sheen, with black silk cuffs and hood, and cut asymmetrically to cover the left side of her body while leaving her pale right arm and lower leg tastefully exposed. A small brass pendant in the shape of a flame hung at her throat. Ah, Vessa realized. A priestess of the Flame, then, a small religious order who worshipped the Ash Queen. Vessa had never met one who didn’t unsettle her with their zealotry.

The woman’s gaze fell fully on Maelen. The warrior frowned and took her in from head to toe, same as Vessa.

“Yeah?” she grunted.

“That… weapon on your belt,” the woman nodded her head towards the black mace. “Do you mind if I ask how it came into your possession?”

“Listen, lady,” Maelen said dismissively, doing her best to look every bit the street tough. “I do mind. Go away.” And with that, the warrior turned her back on the priestess and crouched to peer again through the window. Somewhere out of sight, the chandler gasped.

The woman looked startled, then a line formed between her eyes and she pressed her lips together, clearly irritated. She cleared her throat. “I am afraid I cannot do that,” she said curtly. “That weapon is demon-born. Give it to me now, in the name of the gods.”

Silence fell in the chandlery. Maelen stood upright, slowly, and turned to regard the priestess. “Excuse me?” she growled, low and mean.

“Mae…” Vessa whispered urgently, reaching to place a calming hand upon her shoulder. Ever since the Starless Rift, her friend had been… angry. Maelen had always been a bruiser by nature, but one of the things that impressed Vessa early on was the warrior’s ability to reason her way out of a situation. Recently, it was as if she were a beaten dog tied to a post, snapping at anyone who came near. Which, she realized uncomfortably, was very much like the description the seer Wink had given her.

Maelen shrugged off Vessa’s touch and stepped towards the priestess. “You want it?” she sneered, slowly pulling the black mace from her belt loop. “Come take it from me, then.”

Vessa gave the robed woman credit; if the priestess was intimidated, she masked it well. Her eyes momentarily widened at Maelen’s advance and then her face set in determination. “I see,” she said simply. She raised her voice without taking eyes off Maelen. “Mister Fenn? I will not bring trouble to your shop. I might suggest you close up for the evening, however, and call the City Watch if these two trouble you.”

The woman’s posture straightened imperiously as she addressed Maelen. Her friend stopped her advance but tensed, growling low in her throat. “I tell you this now plainly: That weapon is an instrument of destruction. Shadows and darkness follow it, and has likely,” she looked Maelen up and down. “darkened your soul. Bring it to the Temple of the Flame and you can be rid of this burden. I give you two days.”

“Or what?” Maelen snarled, muscles flexing.

The woman’s eyes swung to Vessa. “Two days,” she intoned, and the words struck her like a weight. Then, in a swirl of red fabric, turned and swept out of the chandlery.

The little bell tinkled, and the sound of the door shutting echoed in the small shop. Vessa was stunned, while Maelen panted, mace gripped tightly in her hand. Silence reigned for several heartbeats, and then the shop owner cleared his throat nervously.

“I– I think I will close up now,” he squeaked. “It’s about time.”

“Of course,” Vessa said immediately, before Maelen could yell at the man. “We’re sorry for any trouble.” She moved towards the door. “Come on, Mae.”

Outside, the evening gloom had swallowed the lakeside, and all around them lanterns were being lit upon the street and in windows. Across the street, Rusk hunched his shoulders and pushed off from the bench, sauntering slowly towards them.

“What in blazes was that?” Vessa snapped.

Her friend barked back. “What? She wanted to take it!”

“She wanted to talk,” she corrected. “Then you picked a fight. With a priestess! And what if what she said is true?”

“It’s a weapon,” Maelen grunted. “Of course it’s made for destruction.”

“Not that,” Vessa said. “The part about darkness, and demons. And your soul.”

Rusk was within earshot now and Maelen flicked her gaze towards him. “Enough of that. Leave it. Where’s the bloody lad?”

“There,” Rusk whispered as he joined them, jerking his chin towards the road. Maelen and Vessa turned to see a figure robed in black, hood up and shrouding his face, hobbling towards the Heart & Dagger’s entrance with the help of a wooden staff. The robe, staff, and limp all matched Alric, but the figure was too thin and stooped.

“Not him,” Maelen shook her head. “That’s an old man.”

“Wait,” Vessa cautioned. Her eyes were the keenest of them, and she saw the lamplight play off the runes upon the staff. “I think… I think it may be.” Without waiting for the others to respond, she strode towards the frail, bent figure with purpose. Instinctively, she moved quietly, on guard.

“Alric?” she called out when she was within lunging distance. The figure stopped and turned its hood. She could now clearly see the hands gripping the staff, pale and bony.

“Vessa,” he sighed, relieved. Incongruously, it was Alric’s voice, completely unchanged. “I was going to tell you that we should move our meeting to somewhere more private. Brannic is coming, and wants to speak with you.”

A hand went to her mouth in shock. “What happened to you?”

“Ah, yes, well,” Alric chuckled. She could only see vague details beneath the hood, but what she saw looked skeletal. “I may have tried a new spell, to mixed results.”

“Let’s get out of here,” she gasped, reaching to take one of his arms. It felt shockingly thin. “Let me help you.”

“Much obliged,” he nodded once, with relief.

She helped the unsettlingly frail Alric to Vessa’s inn near the docks. She did not speak with him on the trek, and neither did Maelen. Her friend did shoot her a look when she thought Alric wasn’t looking, though, of pressed lips and concern. Rusk, thankfully, said nothing and followed behind, strolling as if alone and without a care in the world.

It was well after dark when they arrived, but thankfully they never saw the Iron Thorn investigator from earlier that day. The inn was a two-story wedge of weathered timber, sitting slightly askew upon on the dock and between shops that were dark and closed up for the night. A row of iron lantern-hooks ran along the eaves, each lit behind smoky and salt-flecked glass. The signboard outside couldn’t be bothered with iconography, and said, simply enough, “The Swaying Lantern” upon it in plain script.

Inside, the common room was dimly lit by the glow of the large iron stove in the back, sitting squatly behind a long, scarred counter. The tables were narrow and communal—not ideal for them talking, but Vessa had chosen this place precisely because the clientele were usually sailors from other cities, other nations, often speaking only a few words of Calvenori. Few people here cared who they were, and more importantly cared not at all for the warrant attached to her.

She led them across sanded planks, Alric’s limp making a scraping sound across them along with the steady thump thump of his staff, and hailed the innkeeper.

“Voss,” she nodded with a crooked smile. He was a neat, polite, and soft-spoken man with close-cropped hair and no beard, a true surprise in this rough-and-tumble place. Indeed, the innkeeper of the Swaying Lantern reminded her somewhat of Alric, and would have fit better in the Inkbinders Lodge than the Oakton docks. He wiped his hands fastidiously on a white apron and nodded to her.

“How many?” he asked without preamble.

“Four of us,” she said. “But just water for one and two ales for another. And do you still have that crab stew from last night?”

He smiled. “I do indeed.”

“Four bowls of that, then. And bread?”

“I’ll bring them over to you,” he confirmed, and then he bowed slightly. Vessa smiled and hurried back over to the table, where Maelen was already grilling Alric in low, urgent tones.

“About Vessa?” Alric was saying, keeping his hood up and shrouding his face in shadows. “He asked about both of you, how I knew you, that sort of thing.”

“Nothing about her warrant, though?” Maelen asked, scowling.

Alric paused, as if thinking. Vessa couldn’t keep her eyes from his wrist and hands, almost skeletal. What had happened to him? Eventually, his rich baritone voice said. “No, nothing about Vessa specifically at all. It felt like he was just making conversation, honestly. What he really wanted to discuss was a woman named Sera Vellorin.”

“Dammit all to the Rootmother’s teats!” Maelen swore. Vessa winced.

“You know her?” he asked.

“Not directly, no,” Maelen frowned, and her eyes tracked over to Rusk. She clearly still wasn’t sure what she could and couldn’t say in the man’s presence. Vessa cleared her throat when it was clear she wasn’t going to offer more.

“She’s a book merchant,” Vessa offered. Maelen shot her a look that she ignored. “And mother of the kid I stabbed.”

“Oh,” Alric said, cocking his hooded head, as if again thinking. “Interesting. Well, the investigator said she’s bribing Lodge members to gain access to hidden archives. The… uh,” and now his head swept over to Rusk as well. “The forbidden ones.”

Silence fell on the table, and in that silence, Voss brought their food and drink upon a wide tray. He carefully placed each mug and bowl in front of each of them, then doled out four iron spoons and slices of bread upon small wooden plates. With another slight bow, he took his leave. Steam rose from the stew, and the inviting smell of crab and vegetables made Vessa’s mouth water. Rusk dove into his meal with abandon, slurping ale and stew with equal enthusiasm. Alric sipped his water and blew on the stew before trying it.

Maelen hadn’t moved, her mind working over what she’d heard. Eventually, she took a long drink from a mug and said, “Too many damned connections. Lad, what happened to your body? Are you two weak to make some coin?”

“As I told Vessa,” he said after a spoonful. “A spell got away from me, a spell I used to escape the investigator when he began asking about the Lodge. I should recover… I’ll just need to eat. Speaking of which, good stew, Vessa.” Much to her surprise, she felt her cheeks warming in a blush, as if she’d been the one to cook the meal and deserved praise for it.

Flustered, she ran a hand through her hair and said, “Yeah. Voss is a gem. You do think you’ll recover, then?”

He shrugged a thin shoulder. “I suppose. Or, rather, there’s no reason to think that I won’t.” The hood turned again to Maelen. “What did you have in mind, Maelen? For the coin, I mean.”

“I met a guy,” she said, chewing on a piece of bread. “Said he’d found a secret ruin in the city, untouched. Thinks there’s valuables there and promised a cut.”

“Oh, I’m relieved,” Alric chuckled. “That it’s in the city, I mean. I don’t feel up for another trek in the wilds, and I’d like to continue my research.”

“So, that’s a yes, then?” she said, her mouth full. “Vess?”

“I… sure, I guess. But shouldn’t we deal with this Vellorin business?”

Maelen grunted. “It’s too tangled. I can’t see the angle for us. Better we get out of sight for a few days, let it sort itself out. But a secret ruin sounds better to me than running from the Iron Thorn and some shady book dealer.”

And, Vessa thought unkindly, it lets you duck the priestess of the Flame’s attention. Worry knotted in her stomach, then. Could Maelen’s anger issues have to do with the mace? Maelen had said they weren’t related, but maybe her friend’s judgment couldn’t be trusted these days? Her instincts told her that allowing the two-day deadline to pass would lead to trouble, something they already had in vast amounts. Then there was Alric, who—despite his brave words—looked like he should be spending time resting, not tromping through dangerous ruins. Could he even use his magic, now?

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been quiet as these thoughts tumbled through her head. All eyes at the table were fixed on her, waiting. Maelen wouldn’t like her answer, but Vessa thought they should visit the temple of the Flame before making any decisions. She could loan Alric money to continue his research, since she hadn’t managed to spend her spoils from the Starless Rift yet. It might buy him time to recover.

Just then Rusk wiped his mouth and belched. “We’re in,” he said in his low whisper of a voice, thumping his fist on the table for emphasis. “When do we leave?”

Vessa blinked in surprise. Had he just… answered for the both of them? Alric stiffened in his seat, noting the same.

Maelen grinned and nodded at the man. “Tomorrow morning,” she said to them all. “I’ll go now and find Neddy.”

With that, her friend pushed herself from the table, slapped a couple of silver coins onto the table, and stalked out of the inn.

Next …?

Alas, dear reader… I’m sorry to surprise you with the news, but it’s now time for me to hit the pause button on this labor of love. You see, I’ve gotten a new job, which is overall good news. For the first time since the global pandemic, however, I’ll be commuting to an office, during those wee hours that I’ve spent writing. I’ll be too knackered in the evenings to keep up my current writing pace, and weekends will undoubtedly become packed with Adult Stuff™. There will be time for writing (because, let’s face it, I can’t help myself), but it will be catch-as-catch-can instead of 1-2 posts per week.

This story has been a personal triumph. It’s my most committed attempt at a homebrew world, and I’ve fallen in love with Calvenor and its eternal struggle between City-Gods and Demon-Gods. I will absolutely return to this setting and story—especially since this job is likely the last one I’ll do for 4-6 years before retiring. Then I’ll be writing a LOT. I’m too interested in Alric, Vessa, and Maelen’s tale not to return to them. I’ll also keep playing Tales of Argosa—both solo and with friends—as I’ve fallen in love with it as well. Indeed, I suspect that Tales of Argosa, Dungeon Crawl Classics, various superhero games, and some sort of lighter heroic system, will continue to fuel my nerdy imagination until I’m gone from this world.

Never fear: The blog itself is not taking a hiatus. The truth is that my fiction here gets a fraction of the views that my game reviews do, and I have an idea for an ongoing review series that is percolating. Writing reviews, it turns out, is easy to do sporadically and when the spirit moves me, whereas fiction is something that, once started, requires me to keep writing—pretty much daily—to keep the plot and tone in my head. That said, I may throw the occasional short story up here as well. We’ll see. If there’s one thing I’ve realized these past many years, it’s that my own ability to predict the future is basically zero.

As always, feel free to comment below or email me at jaycms@yahoo.com.

ToC32: Two Days [with game notes]

On By MagicJMSIn Fantasy Fiction, Tabletop Roleplaying, Tales of Calvenor3 Comments

[prose-only version here]

Artwork by © anaislalovi. All rights reserved

As I started to track the various interweaving plots going on in this third story, I realized that I didn’t have any handholds for Maelen’s “something something about the Bonebreaker” thread. Since I think now is a good time to start piling onto the PC’s shoulders, let’s figure it out.

To do so, I’m going to once again lean upon the excellent Tome of Adventure Design by Matt Finch. As I’ve said before, there are so many fun tables in there, it’s almost impossible not to be inspired. In scanning through them, I like Table 3-7: Item-Based Backstories as a way of figuring out a bit about the Bonebreaker and what sort of twists it might add into our story. There are a couple factors to roll on here. I’ll start with: What was the Bonebreaker’s relationship to Thornmere Hold? I roll d100 and get “Was used for a crime.” Oh ho! So, the black mace wasn’t used to defeat Orthuun centuries ago, it was an instrument of the demon-god’s armies! It’s no wonder, then, that no weapon was present in the Starless Rift, because Sarin the Vanished, Orthuun’s general, retrieved it. Let’s do one more roll: What is the “other factor” involved? Another d100 gives me: “Bragging, showing off, or showing power (perhaps catastrophically).” Hm… Maybe there’s a madness hinted at there… Oh! I have an idea: Perhaps the mace is “socially radioactive,” subtly influencing those around it to demonstrate their power, which Orthuun would then want to eliminate. Something like that. Regardless, it gives off an aura that those attuned to feel it will notice.

I have, in the background, fleshed out what the Silent Compact was that battled Orthuun’s forces centuries ago. Three religious orders banded together. One of them was the Tribunal (which you can learn more about in my Caldrien write-up), but let’s use this opportunity to introduce another one, that of Vaelora, the Flame. I like the idea that a priestess of Vaelora has sensed the mace’s presence and is coming to destroy it. That’s enough to guide me and my plot-tracker. Wheee!

XXXII.

Thawmere 12, Wyrdsday, Year 732

“Running was a dumb move, lass,” Maelen muttered grumpily. The warrior peered out of the smoked glass of the chandlery, the window speckled with old wax and soot. The smell of tallow and beeswax hung heavily in the air.

“You’ve only said it half a dozen times,” Vessa replied sourly, crossing her arms. “And okay… I panicked.”

“Not like you,” Maelen squinted. “You’ve had a warrant on your head before.”

“It wasn’t the warrant,” she whispered fiercely. Vessa’s eyes darted to the chandlery’s proprietor, a balding, middle-aged man with a long neck like a turtle. He saw her looking and swallowed hard, turning to needlessly busy himself with shelves crowded with candles, blocks of wax, and little jars of resin. They’d paid him a handful of silver to let the two of them stand in his store and watch the Heart & Dagger’s front door, but she still worried what he might say to a City Watch official if questioned.

An older woman in flowing red robes entered the chandlery with the tinkle of a bell. Maelen and Vessa pretended to be looking at candles as she passed them. She paused and regarded them.

“Ah, Sister Hestara!” the chandler said in greeting, his voice nasal. “A little early for your monthly visit, isn’t it?”

Vessa’s back was to the woman as she did her best to look innocuous. The customer said nothing for a long while, then exhaled audibly. When she spoke, her voice was rich and full. “Yes, Mister Fenn, it is. I was… well, you might say I felt inspired as I passed by this evening. Do you mind if I browse?”

The conversation went on behind them and Vessa leaned close to Maelen. “It wasn’t the warrant,” she repeated in a low whisper. “It was the man! This Brannic, he was there that night, in the alley, don’t you remember?”

Maelen scowled and turned away from the window. “What? Part of the merchant boy’s crew?”

Vessa waved a no and shook her head. “No, just in the alley. I think maybe he was their mark.”

The warrior thought about it, frowning. She leaned over and peered again out of the smudged window, to watch those entering the tavern next door. Eventually, she muttered. “Why would a book merchant’s son try to beat up an Iron Thorn agent? It makes no sense. Anyway, running was still dumb. Who cares if he was in the alley?”

Vessa sighed and took a step to where she could see out between two thick white candles upon a shelf. With the evening twilight and the smudgy glass, it wasn’t the easiest view, but she figured either Alric or Brannic would be easy enough to spot. Her eyes flicked left. Near the Lakeshore Walk, a narrow stone-and-plank promenade that curved around the perimeter of Lake Miran, sat a worn stone bench. Reclining against the bench, arms folded in the chill air, was Rusk. Vessa thought that, if they were going to quickly intercept Alric, it would be best if the hired thug wasn’t with them. Besides, an extra pair of eyes outside always helped.

“Excuse me? Ma’am?” that full, rich voice said from a stride away. Both Maelen and Vessa turned to see the woman in red robes. She was an attractive older woman, perhaps of fifty years, with a defined jaw and intense, pale blue eyes framed by brown hair pulled back in a braid. The clothes were exceptionally well-made, heavy wool with a faint sheen, with black silk cuffs and hood, and cut asymmetrically to cover the left side of her body while leaving her pale right arm and lower leg tastefully exposed. A small brass pendant in the shape of a flame hung at her throat. Ah, Vessa realized. A priestess of the Flame, then, a small religious order who worshipped the Ash Queen. Vessa had never met one who didn’t unsettle her with their zealotry.

The woman’s gaze fell fully on Maelen. The warrior frowned and took her in from head to toe, same as Vessa.

“Yeah?” she grunted.

“That… weapon on your belt,” the woman nodded her head towards the black mace. “Do you mind if I ask how it came into your possession?”

“Listen, lady,” Maelen said dismissively, doing her best to look every bit the street tough. “I do mind. Go away.” And with that, the warrior turned her back on the priestess and crouched to peer again through the window. Somewhere out of sight, the chandler gasped.

The woman looked startled, then a line formed between her eyes and she pressed her lips together, clearly irritated. She cleared her throat. “I am afraid I cannot do that,” she said curtly. “That weapon is demon-born. Give it to me now, in the name of the gods.”

Silence fell in the chandlery. Maelen stood upright, slowly, and turned to regard the priestess. “Excuse me?” she growled, low and mean.

Dang Maelen’s madness! I’m going to have her do a Will save to see if she can master her temper and see this as a terrible time and place to pick a fight. She needs an 11 or lower on d20 and rolls a 16. Sigh. Thankfully, no one else in the chandlery is as interested in violence, but the cleric of Vaelora just went from a potential ally to… decidedly not. Let’s see if I can ramp up some tension here given Maelen’s lack of reason.

Meanwhile, now is a fine time to see who is going to show up first to the Heart & Dagger, Alric or Brannic. I’ll roll a simple high/low and get… Alric. Will Brannic also make it to the tavern before they can leave? For that I’ll do a 50/50 Fate roll, but since the chase I’ll say the Chaos Factor has ramped up to 6. That means there’s a 65% chance of yes, and I roll 94! Nope. He’ll show up later, or else something else is taking up his evening. We’ll see when he (most assuredly) returns!

“Mae…” Vessa whispered urgently, reaching to place a calming hand upon her shoulder. Ever since the Starless Rift, her friend had been… angry. Maelen had always been a bruiser by nature, but one of the things that impressed Vessa early on was the warrior’s ability to reason her way out of a situation. Recently, it was as if she were a beaten dog tied to a post, snapping at anyone who came near. Which, she realized uncomfortably, was very much like the description the seer Wink had given her.

Maelen shrugged off Vessa’s touch and stepped towards the priestess. “You want it?” she sneered, slowly pulling the black mace from her belt loop. “Come take it from me, then.”

Vessa gave the robed woman credit; if the priestess was intimidated, she masked it well. Her eyes momentarily widened at Maelen’s advance and then her face set in determination. “I see,” she said simply. She raised her voice without taking eyes off Maelen. “Mister Fenn? I will not bring trouble to your shop. I might suggest you close up for the evening, however, and call the City Watch if these two trouble you.”

The woman’s posture straightened imperiously as she addressed Maelen. Her friend stopped her advance but tensed, growling low in her throat. “I tell you this now plainly: That weapon is an instrument of destruction. Shadows and darkness follow it, and has likely,” she looked Maelen up and down. “darkened your soul. Bring it to the Temple of the Flame and you can be rid of this burden. I give you two days.”

“Or what?” Maelen snarled, muscles flexing.

The woman’s eyes swung to Vessa. “Two days,” she intoned, and the words struck her like a weight. Then, in a swirl of red fabric, turned and swept out of the chandlery.

The little bell tinkled, and the sound of the door shutting echoed in the small shop. Vessa was stunned, while Maelen panted, mace gripped tightly in her hand. Silence reigned for several heartbeats, and then the shop owner cleared his throat nervously.

“I– I think I will close up now,” he squeaked. “It’s about time.”

“Of course,” Vessa said immediately, before Maelen could yell at the man. “We’re sorry for any trouble.” She moved towards the door. “Come on, Mae.”

Outside, the evening gloom had swallowed the lakeside, and all around them lanterns were being lit upon the street and in windows. Across the street, Rusk hunched his shoulders and pushed off from the bench, sauntering slowly towards them.

“What in blazes was that?” Vessa snapped.

Her friend barked back. “What? She wanted to take it!”

“She wanted to talk,” she corrected. “Then you picked a fight. With a priestess! And what if what she said is true?”

“It’s a weapon,” Maelen grunted. “Of course it’s made for destruction.”

“Not that,” Vessa said. “The part about darkness, and demons. And your soul.”

Rusk was within earshot now and Maelen flicked her gaze towards him. “Enough of that. Leave it. Where’s the bloody lad?”

“There,” Rusk whispered as he joined them, jerking his chin towards the road. Maelen and Vessa turned to see a figure robed in black, hood up and shrouding his face, hobbling towards the Heart & Dagger’s entrance with the help of a wooden staff. The robe, staff, and limp all matched Alric, but the figure was too thin and stooped.

“Not him,” Maelen shook her head. “That’s an old man.”

“Wait,” Vessa cautioned. Her eyes were the keenest of them, and she saw the lamplight play off the runes upon the staff. “I think… I think it may be.” Without waiting for the others to respond, she strode towards the frail, bent figure with purpose. Instinctively, she moved quietly, on guard.

“Alric?” she called out when she was within lunging distance. The figure stopped and turned its hood. She could now clearly see the hands gripping the staff, pale and bony.

“Vessa,” he sighed, relieved. Incongruously, it was Alric’s voice, completely unchanged. “I was going to tell you that we should move our meeting to somewhere more private. Brannic is coming, and wants to speak with you.”

A hand went to her mouth in shock. “What happened to you?”

“Ah, yes, well,” Alric chuckled. She could only see vague details beneath the hood, but what she saw looked skeletal. “I may have tried a new spell, to mixed results.”

“Let’s get out of here,” she gasped, reaching to take one of his arms. It felt shockingly thin. “Let me help you.”

“Much obliged,” he nodded once, with relief.

She helped the unsettlingly frail Alric to Vessa’s inn near the docks. She did not speak with him on the trek, and neither did Maelen. Her friend did shoot her a look when she thought Alric wasn’t looking, though, of pressed lips and concern. Rusk, thankfully, said nothing and followed behind, strolling as if alone and without a care in the world.

It was well after dark when they arrived, but thankfully they never saw the Iron Thorn investigator from earlier that day. The inn was a two-story wedge of weathered timber, sitting slightly askew upon on the dock and between shops that were dark and closed up for the night. A row of iron lantern-hooks ran along the eaves, each lit behind smoky and salt-flecked glass. The signboard outside couldn’t be bothered with iconography, and said, simply enough, “The Swaying Lantern” upon it in plain script.

Inside, the common room was dimly lit by the glow of the large iron stove in the back, sitting squatly behind a long, scarred counter. The tables were narrow and communal—not ideal for them talking, but Vessa had chosen this place precisely because the clientele were usually sailors from other cities, other nations, often speaking only a few words of Calvenori. Few people here cared who they were, and more importantly cared not at all for the warrant attached to her.

She led them across sanded planks, Alric’s limp making a scraping sound across them along with the steady thump thump of his staff, and hailed the innkeeper.

“Voss,” she nodded with a crooked smile. He was a neat, polite, and soft-spoken man with close-cropped hair and no beard, a true surprise in this rough-and-tumble place. Indeed, the innkeeper of the Swaying Lantern reminded her somewhat of Alric, and would have fit better in the Inkbinders Lodge than the Oakton docks. He wiped his hands fastidiously on a white apron and nodded to her.

“How many?” he asked without preamble.

“Four of us,” she said. “But just water for one and two ales for another. And do you still have that crab stew from last night?”

He smiled. “I do indeed.”

“Four bowls of that, then. And bread?”

“I’ll bring them over to you,” he confirmed, and then he bowed slightly. Vessa smiled and hurried back over to the table, where Maelen was already grilling Alric in low, urgent tones.

“About Vessa?” Alric was saying, keeping his hood up and shrouding his face in shadows. “He asked about both of you, how I knew you, that sort of thing.”

“Nothing about her warrant, though?” Maelen asked, scowling.

Alric paused, as if thinking. Vessa couldn’t keep her eyes from his wrist and hands, almost skeletal. What had happened to him? Eventually, his rich baritone voice said. “No, nothing about Vessa specifically at all. It felt like he was just making conversation, honestly. What he really wanted to discuss was a woman named Sera Vellorin.”

“Dammit all to the Rootmother’s teats!” Maelen swore. Vessa winced.

“You know her?” he asked.

“Not directly, no,” Maelen frowned, and her eyes tracked over to Rusk. She clearly still wasn’t sure what she could and couldn’t say in the man’s presence. Vessa cleared her throat when it was clear she wasn’t going to offer more.

“She’s a book merchant,” Vessa offered. Maelen shot her a look that she ignored. “And mother of the kid I stabbed.”

“Oh,” Alric said, cocking his hooded head, as if again thinking. “Interesting. Well, the investigator said she’s bribing Lodge members to gain access to hidden archives. The… uh,” and now his head swept over to Rusk as well. “The forbidden ones.”

Silence fell on the table, and in that silence, Voss brought their food and drink upon a wide tray. He carefully placed each mug and bowl in front of each of them, then doled out four iron spoons and slices of bread upon small wooden plates. With another slight bow, he took his leave. Steam rose from the stew, and the inviting smell of crab and vegetables made Vessa’s mouth water. Rusk dove into his meal with abandon, slurping ale and stew with equal enthusiasm. Alric sipped his water and blew on the stew before trying it.

Maelen hadn’t moved, her mind working over what she’d heard. Eventually, she took a long drink from a mug and said, “Too many damned connections. Lad, what happened to your body? Are you two weak to make some coin?”

“As I told Vessa,” he said after a spoonful. “A spell got away from me, a spell I used to escape the investigator when he began asking about the Lodge. I should recover… I’ll just need to eat. Speaking of which, good stew, Vessa.” Much to her surprise, she felt her cheeks warming in a blush, as if she’d been the one to cook the meal and deserved praise for it.

Flustered, she ran a hand through her hair and said, “Yeah. Voss is a gem. You do think you’ll recover, then?”

He shrugged a thin shoulder. “I suppose. Or, rather, there’s no reason to think that I won’t.” The hood turned again to Maelen. “What did you have in mind, Maelen? For the coin, I mean.”

“I met a guy,” she said, chewing on a piece of bread. “Said he’d found a secret ruin in the city, untouched. Thinks there’s valuables there and promised a cut.”

“Oh, I’m relieved,” Alric chuckled. “That it’s in the city, I mean. I don’t feel up for another trek in the wilds, and I’d like to continue my research.”

“So, that’s a yes, then?” she said, her mouth full. “Vess?”

“I… sure, I guess. But shouldn’t we deal with this Vellorin business?”

Maelen grunted. “It’s too tangled. I can’t see the angle for us. Better we get out of sight for a few days, let it sort itself out. But a secret ruin sounds better to me than running from the Iron Thorn and some shady book dealer.”

And, Vessa thought unkindly, it lets you duck the priestess of the Flame’s attention. Worry knotted in her stomach, then. Could Maelen’s anger issues have to do with the mace? Maelen had said they weren’t related, but maybe her friend’s judgment couldn’t be trusted these days? Her instincts told her that allowing the two-day deadline to pass would lead to trouble, something they already had in vast amounts. Then there was Alric, who—despite his brave words—looked like he should be spending time resting, not tromping through dangerous ruins. Could he even use his magic, now?

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been quiet as these thoughts tumbled through her head. All eyes at the table were fixed on her, waiting. Maelen wouldn’t like her answer, but Vessa thought they should visit the temple of the Flame before making any decisions. She could loan Alric money to continue his research, since she hadn’t managed to spend her spoils from the Starless Rift yet. It might buy him time to recover.

Just then Rusk wiped his mouth and belched. “We’re in,” he said in his low whisper of a voice, thumping his fist on the table for emphasis. “When do we leave?”

Vessa blinked in surprise. Had he just… answered for the both of them? Alric stiffened in his seat, noting the same.

Maelen grinned and nodded at the man. “Tomorrow morning,” she said to them all. “I’ll go now and find Neddy.”

With that, her friend pushed herself from the table, slapped a couple of silver coins onto the table, and stalked out of the inn.

Next …?

Alas, dear reader… I’m sorry to surprise you with the news, but it’s now time for me to hit the pause button on this labor of love. You see, I’ve gotten a new job, which is overall good news. For the first time since the global pandemic, however, I’ll be commuting to an office, during those wee hours that I’ve spent writing. I’ll be too knackered in the evenings to keep up my current writing pace, and weekends will undoubtedly become packed with Adult Stuff™. There will be time for writing (because, let’s face it, I can’t help myself), but it will be catch-as-catch-can instead of 1-2 posts per week.

This story has been a personal triumph. It’s my most committed attempt at a homebrew world, and I’ve fallen in love with Calvenor and its eternal struggle between City-Gods and Demon-Gods. I will absolutely return to this setting and story—especially since this job is likely the last one I’ll do for 4-6 years before retiring. Then I’ll be writing a LOT. I’m too interested in Alric, Vessa, and Maelen’s tale not to return to them. I’ll also keep playing Tales of Argosa—both solo and with friends—as I’ve fallen in love with it as well. Indeed, I suspect that Tales of Argosa, Dungeon Crawl Classics, various superhero games, and some sort of lighter heroic system, will continue to fuel my nerdy imagination until I’m gone from this world.

Never fear: The blog itself is not taking a hiatus. The truth is that my fiction here gets a fraction of the views that my game reviews do, and I have an idea for an ongoing review series that is percolating. Writing reviews, it turns out, is easy to do sporadically and when the spirit moves me, whereas fiction is something that, once started, requires me to keep writing—pretty much daily—to keep the plot and tone in my head. That said, I may throw the occasional short story up here as well. We’ll see. If there’s one thing I’ve realized these past many years, it’s that my own ability to predict the future is basically zero.

As always, feel free to comment below or email me at jaycms@yahoo.com.

ToC31: Brannic Sootward

On By MagicJMSIn Fantasy Fiction, Tabletop Roleplaying, Tales of Calvenor3 Comments

[game-notes version here]

Artwork by © anaislalovi. All rights reserved

XXXI.

Thawmere 12, Wyrdsday, Year 732

Alric stumbled out of the alleyway and into a warehouse district street. Squinting—his eyes still watery from the smoke cloud—he saw the black-clad, Iron Thorn agent across the street, his back to a three-story warehouse. Maelen faced him, fists balled, and to his shock she lunged at him.

The man was her match in speed, however. He turned with the punch, letting it glance off. Maelen overbalanced, hit one knee, and came up cursing.

“Stop!” Alric shouted, limping across the street as quickly as his leg and staff would allow. “Stop, Maelen… stop!”

The man was rubbing his jaw with one hand, eyes flicking between the two of them. His other hand, Alric noted with alarm, had dropped to touch the hilt of his sword. Thankfully Maelen hadn’t reached for her spiked mace, but Alric thought it was only a heartbeat away.

“What’s going on?” Alric asked desperately.

“Shut it, lad,” the warrior spat, meaty fists still up and ready. “He’ll pay for hunting Vess.”

“Pay? Maelen, please! He’s an Iron Thorn agent! He’s the law! We’re not in the wilds anymore!”

The man grunted and threw them both a half grin. “Listen to your friend… Maelen, was it? I’ll give you the punch for free, seein’ as we got off on the wrong foot. Don’t push it, girl.”

“Girl!?” Maelen roared, but Alric put a hand on her shoulder.

“Please!” he hissed.

The warrior growled, low and… hungry? Whatever the sound was, it disturbed him. But she did, after several ragged breaths, back down. With obvious effort, Maelen unclenched her fists.

“Good,” the man winked. “Now, I must say: This whole situation’s makin’ my brain itch. You say the runner’s name is Vess?”

“Vessa,” Alric offered. “Velthorn.”

“Shut it!” Maelen smacked him on the shoulder, causing Alric to stumble.

“And you, young scribe? What’s your name?” the man asked, his gray eyes’ intensity in sharp contrast to his easy smile. His face was a maze of scars, the most pronounced tugging at one side of his mouth.

“A-Alric, sir,” he stammered and stepped out of Maelen’s reach. She growled again, like a caged animal.

“Mistsong, yes?” he said, nodding once, as if confirming a detail. “Just the man I wanted to meet. Good. Maelen?” the Iron Thorn agent said, stepping up to Alric and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you run along and go find your friend Vessa. Tell her that Brannic Sootward will be callin’ upon her later this evenin’ to ask a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Alric,” Maelen hissed through clenched teeth. “Do not share information with this filthy rat.”

“Maelen, it’s fine. He’s just doing his job!” Alric pleaded. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“There, see?” Brannic said, lifting a finger to his jaw where Maelen had struck him. “Civility.”

Maelen didn’t spare a glance at the man. Her eyes were locked on Alric’s. “We’ll meet you for dinner at the regular spot, yeah?”

“And what spot would that be?” Brannic asked.

“The Heart & Dagger,” Alric said, then winced. Maelen threw up her hands in exasperation, looking skyward as if seeking divine aid.

Just then, Rusk stepped out of the alleyway. He certainly hadn’t run after them, and seemed not at all out of breath.

Brannic’s eyes snapped up. “Friend of yours?” he asked.

“No,” Alric said immediately. “We only just met.”

“I’ll go,” Maelen said. “Lad: Be smart,” she pointed a calloused finger accusingly at him. “Use that brain of yours. And you,” the finger swiveled to Brannic. “If he ends up beaten or in a cell somewhere, I’m coming for you.”

Brannic laughed and hauled Alric around, retracing their steps away from the warehouses and back towards the civic rise and the Inkbinders Lodge. His arm was like an iron band, holding Alric in place. Maelen yelled a curse after Brannic, but the man ignored it as if he hadn’t heard.

Alric barely noticed the path they walked. His throat had gone dry… beaten up or in a cell? Could this be about his ongoing bribery of a clerk to gain access to the forbidden stacks? The debt he owed his family for the Thornmere Hold expedition? Could Brannic be an agent of Orthuun? If the mage had a heartbeat, it would be racing. Instead, he found his thoughts jumbled and breath ragged.

The Iron Thorn agent, meanwhile, seemed to eventually realize that Alric couldn’t outrun him even if he tried, so he let go of his shoulder and walked easily beside him. To anyone watching, it might have looked like two longtime friends taking a brisk winter walk through the streets, content in their silence. Only as they’d almost reached the Lodge did Alric realize that Brannic was scanning the foot traffic carefully, looking at rooftops and empty alleyways. Ah. He thought that Alric’s friends might double back to free him and was staying vigilant. At this point, Alric couldn’t tell if he hoped they did so or left him to his fate. He felt off balance and anxious… what was this all about?

Back at the Quiet Margin, the tavern seemed to have recovered from the commotion caused by Vessa’s flight. If anyone recognized Alric or Brannic from before, they didn’t let on, and soon Alric found himself seated across from the scarred investigator, the man’s gray eyes considering him carefully.

“So, Alric. You’re a scribe, then? Part of the Lodge?” he asked, taking such a long a draught of his ale that he must have half-finished it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Y-yes sir,” Alric bobbed his head. He lifted the lapel of his robe as if it helped verify the profession. “A-and I must get back to work, I’m afraid. I had only taken lunch to meet my friends.”

“Mmm,” the man said, taking a long drink to consider. “Friends, is it? How is it you became friends with a couple of mercenaries?”

Alric chuckled nervously. “‘Friends’ might be overstating it. I hired the two of them as bodyguards awhile back, and we’ve stayed in touch. We gathered today after not seeing each other in weeks.”

“Bodyguards?” Brannic quirked a salt-and-pepper eyebrow. “Now what do you need bodyguards for, boy?”

Inwardly, Alric cursed. Somehow this man was able to pry details from him that he didn’t want to share. It was maddening, and he felt awkward and slow. Somehow, he mused grimly, he was able to lie repeatedly about his whereabouts and activities to those within the Lodge, but a single Iron Thorn agent caused him to stutter and jumble his thoughts. It was that damned man Rusk, he thought. Why did Vessa bring him to their lunch? Everything about their reunion had been a mess, and so different from what he’d envisioned.

He brought himself back to the present. Brannic was studying him intently. Use that brain of yours, Maelen had urged him. Right. Stall. Reset. Find an exit.

“You look as if you’ve finished your ale,” Alric pointed out. “Shall I order another round?”

Brannic didn’t speak for a long beat, then smirked. “Sure. Don’t run.”

“Please,” Alric said without humor. “I know my limitations.” With weariness, he stood and leaned on his rune-carved staff. He nodded to the man and, with his limp exaggerated, moved to the bar. His mind whirled. Why was Brannic asking these questions? Had Vessa recognized him and bolted, or was she simply assuming it had something to do with her warrant? More urgently: How could he leave this conversation quickly, and without revealing everything he’d learned about the Silent Compact? About Orthuun?

He returned with one mug and placed it in front of Brannic, who waited with casual ease.

“Not another for you?” he said, raising the mug in salute before taking another long drink.

“It goes to my head,” Alric shrugged. “And I must be getting back to my duties at the Lodge. Might we get to why you wanted to speak with me, sir?”

“In a bit,” he smiled, waving a hand. “First, you were tellin’ me why you needed Maelen and Vessa as bodyguards? Not usual for a scribe, is it?”

“It’s not,” Alric admitted, exhaling and trying to regain his wits. “I was exploring a rumor I’d discovered in a scroll—a reputed hidden tomb in the wilds. They were to keep me safe on the journey.”

“In the wilds? My my. Dangerous business to be sure. What did you find?” he asked casually.

“Only a rumor,” Alric said, with practiced disappointment. Brannic narrowed his eyes, and Alric had no idea if the lie had landed well. “But they did their jobs, which is why I’m still here.” He smiled.

“Hmph. Well, Alric, if you don’t mind my sayin’, the Lodge has you workin’ too hard. You look about to fall over and like you haven’t slept in days.”

Alric said nothing. His fingers were intertwined atop the table’s surface to calm his nerves.

Another pause, and then Brannic asked. “Do you know the name Sera Vellorin?”

Alric blinked, suddenly off guard again. “No,” he said truthfully. “Should I?”

“Mmm,” the scarred man said, picking idly with a finger at a crease in the wood of the table. “She’s been bribin’ some people within your Lodge to gain access to some secret archives or somethin’. What would you–”

Brannic continued to speak but Alric lost the words as he panicked. The mention of “secret archives” made him certain that this Iron Thorn investigator had come to arrest him for his own bribery, to link him somehow to this Sera person. The crowd around them swam in his vision, and Alric suddenly felt dizzy. Without realizing he was doing so, he began muttering beneath his breath, feeling his limbs deaden as he drew on the power of the demon Orthuun. His fingers moved with purpose as the magic took form.

Brannic was quite correct when he said that Alric needed sleep. He’d spent his recent weeks in Oakton uncovering the history of the Silent Compact, but those were his daytime activities. At night, his weary eyes had been buried in the Tome of Unlit Paths, desperately attempting to learn how to harness the power of the demon without losing himself to darkness. In doing so, he’d realized how Hadren Kelthorn had escaped their tavern meeting months before when they’d first met the man, the precise spell he’d cast.

Alric hissed the final, sibilant words and the world around him lost all color. Across the table, a black-and-white Brannic stood abruptly, a sudden knife in one hand. Others in the tavern saw the weapon and screamed, pushing themselves away from the Iron Thorn agent. None of them saw Alric, however, as, to them, he’d disappeared in a sudden circle of ash.

“Alric Darkheart…” a voice rasped. Near him was the shade of Hadren, watching him with grey lights in his eye sockets and floating above the tavern floor. He did not move his slack lips, but somehow the words still whispered directly into Alric’s ears.

Something had gone wild and unchecked from the spell he’d cast. It was as if Orthuun’s power not only deadened his body but was pulling his very essence away. He swung his wide eyes from Hadren to the door of the tavern, stumbling through the startled crowd.

“Dark… heart…” the voice echoed, more distantly now. Alric spared a look over his shoulder. Hadren hadn’t moved. The shade floated within a press of individuals pushing away from Brannic, the investigator scanning the table and looking wholly unnerved. A group of robed bystanders were pointing at the circle of ash around Alric’s former chair.

Three young clerks blocked his way to the exit. With an exasperated shove, he broke through them as they felt themselves tossed aside by an invisible force. Alric hurled himself bodily against the door, opening it and gasping into a grayscale Oakton. The force of the spell was still pulling at him, eating away at something he knew was vital. But he couldn’t appear out of nowhere in front of the Inkbinders Lodge, with all to see. He kept his invisibility intact as he limped towards a narrow alleyway, feeling his life drain away with every step. Get out of sight, he thought desperately, and then end the spell.

With a groan, the young man pulled himself into shelter and released Orthuun’s power. As soon as it ended, he doubled over, panting and clinging to his staff.

He did not yet see his shadow, moving independently and raising its arms in triumph beside him.

Next: Two Days [with game notes]

ToC31: Brannic Sootward [with game notes]

On By MagicJMSIn Fantasy Fiction, Tabletop Roleplaying, Tales of Calvenor3 Comments

[prose-only version here]

Artwork by © anaislalovi. All rights reserved

Do I wish Downtime had been long enough for Maelen to clear her rage madness? Yes, yes I do. I worry that she’ll become too one-dimensional of a character. But I do have to admit… her madness makes for some fun story beats.

Per the Tales of Argosa rulebook, all characters are trained in unarmed brawling, and attacks do 1d2 damage plus Str modifiers. Brannic’s AC is 14 and Maelen has a +5 to hit. She rolls a 12 and hits, doing 3 damage and bringing the Iron Thorn investigator’s hit points to 17. She’ll also try a Minor Exploit to knock him down with the blow. Doing so requires an opposed Str check: Maelen fails with an 18 and Brannic has a Great Success with a 6. Not even close.

Here’s the important roll: How does Brannic react? I’ll roll a Reaction roll on the “Human, Guard” table at -2 because of the punch. An adjusted 7 is Difficult, barely avoiding Hostile. Good enough.

XXXI.

Thawmere 12, Wyrdsday, Year 732

Alric stumbled out of the alleyway and into a warehouse district street. Squinting—his eyes still watery from the smoke cloud—he saw the black-clad, Iron Thorn agent across the street, his back to a three-story warehouse. Maelen faced him, fists balled, and to his shock she lunged at him.

The man was her match in speed, however. He turned with the punch, letting it glance off. Maelen overbalanced, hit one knee, and came up cursing.

“Stop!” Alric shouted, limping across the street as quickly as his leg and staff would allow. “Stop, Maelen… stop!”

The man was rubbing his jaw with one hand, eyes flicking between the two of them. His other hand, Alric noted with alarm, had dropped to touch the hilt of his sword. Thankfully Maelen hadn’t reached for her spiked mace, but Alric thought it was only a heartbeat away.

“What’s going on?” Alric asked desperately.

“Shut it, lad,” the warrior spat, meaty fists still up and ready. “He’ll pay for hunting Vess.”

“Pay? Maelen, please! He’s an Iron Thorn agent! He’s the law! We’re not in the wilds anymore!”

The man grunted and threw them both a half grin. “Listen to your friend… Maelen, was it? I’ll give you the punch for free, seein’ as we got off on the wrong foot. Don’t push it, girl.”

“Girl!?” Maelen roared, but Alric put a hand on her shoulder.

“Please!” he hissed.

The warrior growled, low and… hungry? Whatever the sound was, it disturbed him. But she did, after several ragged breaths, back down. With obvious effort, Maelen unclenched her fists.

“Good,” the man winked. “Now, I must say: This whole situation’s makin’ my brain itch. You say the runner’s name is Vess?”

“Vessa,” Alric offered. “Velthorn.”

“Shut it!” Maelen smacked him on the shoulder, causing Alric to stumble.

“And you, young scribe? What’s your name?” the man asked, his gray eyes’ intensity in sharp contrast to his easy smile. His face was a maze of scars, the most pronounced tugging at one side of his mouth.

“A-Alric, sir,” he stammered and stepped out of Maelen’s reach. She growled again, like a caged animal.

“Mistsong, yes?” he said, nodding once, as if confirming a detail. “Just the man I wanted to meet. Good. Maelen?” the Iron Thorn agent said, stepping up to Alric and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you run along and go find your friend Vessa. Tell her that Brannic Sootward will be callin’ upon her later this evenin’ to ask a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Alric,” Maelen hissed through clenched teeth. “Do not share information with this filthy rat.”

“Maelen, it’s fine. He’s just doing his job!” Alric pleaded. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“There, see?” Brannic said, lifting a finger to his jaw where Maelen had struck him. “Civility.”

Maelen didn’t spare a glance at the man. Her eyes were locked on Alric’s. “We’ll meet you for dinner at the regular spot, yeah?”

“And what spot would that be?” Brannic asked.

“The Heart & Dagger,” Alric said, then winced. Maelen threw up her hands in exasperation, looking skyward as if seeking divine aid.

Just then, Rusk stepped out of the alleyway. He certainly hadn’t run after them, and seemed not at all out of breath.

Brannic’s eyes snapped up. “Friend of yours?” he asked.

“No,” Alric said immediately. “We only just met.”

“I’ll go,” Maelen said. “Lad: Be smart,” she pointed a calloused finger accusingly at him. “Use that brain of yours. And you,” the finger swiveled to Brannic. “If he ends up beaten or in a cell somewhere, I’m coming for you.”

Just for fun, let’s do a Will or Cha check for Maelen (they’re both 11) to see how well the threat lands. She rolls a 15. Well, bummer.

Brannic laughed and hauled Alric around, retracing their steps away from the warehouses and back towards the civic rise and the Inkbinders Lodge. His arm was like an iron band, holding Alric in place. Maelen yelled a curse after Brannic, but the man ignored it as if he hadn’t heard.

Alric barely noticed the path they walked. His throat had gone dry… beaten up or in a cell? Could this be about his ongoing bribery of a clerk to gain access to the forbidden stacks? The debt he owed his family for the Thornmere Hold expedition? Could Brannic be an agent of Orthuun? If the mage had a heartbeat, it would be racing. Instead, he found his thoughts jumbled and breath ragged.

The Iron Thorn agent, meanwhile, seemed to eventually realize that Alric couldn’t outrun him even if he tried, so he let go of his shoulder and walked easily beside him. To anyone watching, it might have looked like two longtime friends taking a brisk winter walk through the streets, content in their silence. Only as they’d almost reached the Lodge did Alric realize that Brannic was scanning the foot traffic carefully, looking at rooftops and empty alleyways. Ah. He thought that Alric’s friends might double back to free him and was staying vigilant. At this point, Alric couldn’t tell if he hoped they did so or left him to his fate. He felt off balance and anxious… what was this all about?

Back at the Quiet Margin, the tavern seemed to have recovered from the commotion caused by Vessa’s flight. If anyone recognized Alric or Brannic from before, they didn’t let on, and soon Alric found himself seated across from the scarred investigator, the man’s gray eyes considering him carefully.

“So, Alric. You’re a scribe, then? Part of the Lodge?” he asked, taking such a long a draught of his ale that he must have half-finished it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Y-yes sir,” Alric bobbed his head. He lifted the lapel of his robe as if it helped verify the profession. “A-and I must get back to work, I’m afraid. I had only taken lunch to meet my friends.”

“Mmm,” the man said, taking a long drink to consider. “Friends, is it? How is it you became friends with a couple of mercenaries?”

I haven’t done any “social combat” scenes in this story yet, but to me they’re part of the fun of urban adventures, whether they’re between thieves lying to escape a guard or royal maneuverings in court. The Tales of Argosa rulebook, sadly, only dedicates a single page to influencing NPCs, and essentially boils it down to a single Charisma role, often with skills or other modifiers. That’s good for many situations (like when Alric talked his way out of Oakton in the first story), but here I want it to be a bit more involved. Brannic wants to interrogate Alric, both because the scribe is part of his investigation and about Vessa. Alric, meanwhile, is now suitably paranoid about the consequences of this conversation and wants to get out of this situation quickly and without incident. You know what that sounds like to me?

It sounds like a Chase.

Let’s set it up the same as Vessa’s chase: Alric starts a minimum distance away, 4 “lengths,” with Brannic in pursuit. If Brannic “catches” him, Alric reveals everything he knows about the forbidden archives (likely getting himself arrested). I’ll keep the Vessa info as a sweetener depending on the rolls.

Here we go with the first of six “legs” of the conversation: Alric will roll a Cha(Deception) check against Cha(Gather Info). Both characters have the needed skills, and both have 13 Charisma scores. That makes it an even 14 vs 14 target. On the first roll, both fail with a 18 & 17, respectively! So, no ground made up either way. I’ll also use the Chase Event table and see if I can interpret it for a social situation: I roll Snap Opportunity, which allows Alric to make a quick action. Seeing that Brannic is a drinker, he’ll order him another round of drinks to try and make him drunk (-2 on the next roll). I’ll give Brannic a Con roll to see if he succumbs. He just passes. Oh well. Worth a shot!

The second leg: Alric again fails with a 16 but Brannic has a Great Success with a 7. Uh oh. That’s two lengths covered, which means only 2 remaining. To make matters worse, I roll Random Setback, Lost, which means Alric needs to make an Int check or get confused and lose the Chase. It’s his turn to just pass, but he does so with another 16. For Brannic’s Great Success, I’ll give him all the Vessa info he needs to make the connection to the fateful night when Vessa stabbed Joryn Vellorin.

Third leg: Alric rolls a THIRD 16, failing, but so does Brannic. The distance between them stays at two lengths. I roll All In!, which means in a group chase that all characters would be allowed an action. Since it’s just Alric, I’ll take the spirit of the “All In!” title and say he gets desperate and tries to cast a spell: A Wisp Unseen (i.e. invisibility), pulling the same maneuver as Hadren Kelthorn to kick off Story 2. He now must roll a successful Int(Arcane Lore) check and rolls a nat-1! That’s a Great Success, obviously, and means he could have made a second person invisible as well. For the lucky roll, I’ll say this will effectively end the Chase and let him get away. However, there’s still the DDM roll. I didn’t reset Alric’s DDM number after Downtime, so it’s still 3. He must roll higher on a 1d8 and rolls… a 1.

Hoo boy. So, to recap: Alric failed all three Chase rolls and now has negative effects from his spellcasting. But he gets away!

I mentioned that I was so enamored with my Orthuun patron write-up for Dungeon Crawl Classics that I would adopt the Taint and Corruption tables from it for Alric. As a result, I first roll a 1d6 per my Invoke Patron failure table and get another 1! Poor Alric. That’s a roll on both patron taint and corruption tables. For corruption, I’ll use my Cloak of Shadow table and get “The caster becomes painfully gaunt, as if sucked dry of life force.” Okay, makes sense, and I’ll treat it as an injury that could get healed in the next Downtime, and will also knock a point off his Constitution for it. And now for the taint roll? I roll a 6, “When this taint is first rolled, the caster’s shadow acts independently from the caster, often still when the caster is moving and vice-versa.” Okay! Done and done. Poor Alric… he just gets creepier, and how is this creepiness going to affect his courting of Vessa?!

Regardless, the Chase is over after 3 legs and he’s escaped the encounter (just as happened with Vessa!), despite failing his rolls. Fun! Oh, and Alric’s DDM number is now thankfully back to 1.

Alric chuckled nervously. “‘Friends’ might be overstating it. I hired the two of them as bodyguards awhile back, and we’ve stayed in touch. We gathered today after not seeing each other in weeks.”

“Bodyguards?” Brannic quirked a salt-and-pepper eyebrow. “Now what do you need bodyguards for, boy?”

Inwardly, Alric cursed. Somehow this man was able to pry details from him that he didn’t want to share. It was maddening, and he felt awkward and slow. Somehow, he mused grimly, he was able to lie repeatedly about his whereabouts and activities to those within the Lodge, but a single Iron Thorn agent caused him to stutter and jumble his thoughts. It was that damned man Rusk, he thought. Why did Vessa bring him to their lunch? Everything about their reunion had been a mess, and so different from what he’d envisioned.

He brought himself back to the present. Brannic was studying him intently. Use that brain of yours, Maelen had urged him. Right. Stall. Reset. Find an exit.

“You look as if you’ve finished your ale,” Alric pointed out. “Shall I order another round?”

Brannic didn’t speak for a long beat, then smirked. “Sure. Don’t run.”

“Please,” Alric said without humor. “I know my limitations.” With weariness, he stood and leaned on his rune-carved staff. He nodded to the man and, with his limp exaggerated, moved to the bar. His mind whirled. Why was Brannic asking these questions? Had Vessa recognized him and bolted, or was she simply assuming it had something to do with her warrant? More urgently: How could he leave this conversation quickly, and without revealing everything he’d learned about the Silent Compact? About Orthuun?

He returned with one mug and placed it in front of Brannic, who waited with casual ease.

“Not another for you?” he said, raising the mug in salute before taking another long drink.

“It goes to my head,” Alric shrugged. “And I must be getting back to my duties at the Lodge. Might we get to why you wanted to speak with me, sir?”

“In a bit,” he smiled, waving a hand. “First, you were tellin’ me why you needed Maelen and Vessa as bodyguards? Not usual for a scribe, is it?”

“It’s not,” Alric admitted, exhaling and trying to regain his wits. “I was exploring a rumor I’d discovered in a scroll—a reputed hidden tomb in the wilds. They were to keep me safe on the journey.”

“In the wilds? My my. Dangerous business to be sure. What did you find?” he asked casually.

“Only a rumor,” Alric said, with practiced disappointment. Brannic narrowed his eyes, and Alric had no idea if the lie had landed well. “But they did their jobs, which is why I’m still here.” He smiled.

“Hmph. Well, Alric, if you don’t mind my sayin’, the Lodge has you workin’ too hard. You look about to fall over and like you haven’t slept in days.”

Alric said nothing. His fingers were intertwined atop the table’s surface to calm his nerves.

Another pause, and then Brannic asked. “Do you know the name Sera Vellorin?”

Alric blinked, suddenly off guard again. “No,” he said truthfully. “Should I?”

“Mmm,” the scarred man said, picking idly with a finger at a crease in the wood of the table. “She’s been bribin’ some people within your Lodge to gain access to some secret archives or somethin’. What would you–”

Brannic continued to speak but Alric lost the words as he panicked. The mention of “secret archives” made him certain that this Iron Thorn investigator had come to arrest him for his own bribery, to link him somehow to this Sera person. The crowd around them swam in his vision, and Alric suddenly felt dizzy. Without realizing he was doing so, he began muttering beneath his breath, feeling his limbs deaden as he drew on the power of the demon Orthuun. His fingers moved with purpose as the magic took form.

Brannic was quite correct when he said that Alric needed sleep. He’d spent his recent weeks in Oakton uncovering the history of the Silent Compact, but those were his daytime activities. At night, his weary eyes had been buried in the Tome of Unlit Paths, desperately attempting to learn how to harness the power of the demon without losing himself to darkness. In doing so, he’d realized how Hadren Kelthorn had escaped their tavern meeting months before when they’d first met the man, the precise spell he’d cast.

Alric hissed the final, sibilant words and the world around him lost all color. Across the table, a black-and-white Brannic stood abruptly, a sudden knife in one hand. Others in the tavern saw the weapon and screamed, pushing themselves away from the Iron Thorn agent. None of them saw Alric, however, as, to them, he’d disappeared in a sudden circle of ash.

“Alric Darkheart…” a voice rasped. Near him was the shade of Hadren, watching him with grey lights in his eye sockets and floating above the tavern floor. He did not move his slack lips, but somehow the words still whispered directly into Alric’s ears.

Something had gone wild and unchecked from the spell he’d cast. It was as if Orthuun’s power not only deadened his body but was pulling his very essence away. He swung his wide eyes from Hadren to the door of the tavern, stumbling through the startled crowd.

“Dark… heart…” the voice echoed, more distantly now. Alric spared a look over his shoulder. Hadren hadn’t moved. The shade floated within a press of individuals pushing away from Brannic, the investigator scanning the table and looking wholly unnerved. A group of robed bystanders were pointing at the circle of ash around Alric’s former chair.

Three young clerks blocked his way to the exit. With an exasperated shove, he broke through them as they felt themselves tossed aside by an invisible force. Alric hurled himself bodily against the door, opening it and gasping into a grayscale Oakton. The force of the spell was still pulling at him, eating away at something he knew was vital. But he couldn’t appear out of nowhere in front of the Inkbinders Lodge, with all to see. He kept his invisibility intact as he limped towards a narrow alleyway, feeling his life drain away with every step. Get out of sight, he thought desperately, and then end the spell.

With a groan, the young man pulled himself into shelter and released Orthuun’s power. As soon as it ended, he doubled over, panting and clinging to his staff.

He did not yet see his shadow, moving independently and raising its arms in triumph beside him.

Next: Two Days [with game notes]

DCC Patron 03 – Caldrien, the Herald

On By MagicJMSIn Dungeon Crawl Classics, Tabletop Roleplaying, Tales of CalvenorLeave a comment

I’m back with more Dungeon Crawl Classics conversions of my Calvenor setting (if you have no idea what I’m talking about, check out the links below). This project continues to be great fun.

  1. Quenvara, the Rootmother – Deity – Patron
  2. Orthuun, the Blind Sovereign – Deity – Patron
  3. Caldrien, the Herald – Deity

The God Caldrien, the Herald

Artwork by © anaislalovi. All rights reserved

Out of the three write-ups so far, Caldrien’s clerics and wizards are probably the most divergent in abilities and magic. Clerics within the Tribunal (his holy cult) are jack-of-all-trades know-it-alls, with their scroll cases overflowing. Wizards tapping into the Herald’s vast tomes, on the other hand, either flood their minds with knowledge for dramatic effects or summon extraplanar servants to their sides. I’m really enjoying the different manifestations, and get a little misty-eyed and wistful thinking of what Alric’s story might have been if he’d pursued Caldrien as a patron instead of Orthuun. Poor guy.

Whereas I struggled to find DCC deities of knowledge and libraries for the Deity entry, I was thrilled for this Patron write-up to find Amarais, caretaker of the Eternal Library, from the recent Angels, Daemons, & Beings Between, Volume III: Macabre Minds from the excellent folks at Shinobi 27 Games. Caldrien’s spellburn table was heavily influenced by Amarais, and I directly stole Swarm of Paper as a level 1 spell directly. Even the idea of summoning a Tome Guardian came from Amarais (though the mechanics are quite different for Caldrien). Which is all to say, if you love DCC, you should absolutely own all three volumes of these books!

Enjoy!

You can also view the full PDF of Caldrien here.

Please let me know what you think below or via email at jaycms@yahoo.com!

ToC30: Surprises

On By MagicJMSIn Fantasy Fiction, Tabletop Roleplaying, Tales of Calvenor3 Comments

[game-notes version here]

Artwork by © anaislalovi. All rights reserved

XXX.

Thawmere 12, Wyrdsday, Year 732

Maelen looked from the lad to the lass and frowned. Dammit all and young people’s urges. It was clear that the two of them had kindled some sort of romantic connection when returning from the Starless Rift, and it was equally clear that Rusk, the fellow Vessa had brought, was now a rival in his eyes. The mage’s intense stare was fixed on the blocky man, and he returned the gaze with a smirk. Vessa swallowed and looked uncomfortable. Meanwhile, as the awkward silence stretched on, patrons in the tavern were beginning to mumble and whisper all around them. This bloody mess was not something she needed. Maelen silently cursed and tried to rein in the situation.

“Nice to see you, lad,” she said. He blinked and seemed to see her for the first time. Maelen took her chair, swiveled it around, and sat. “How’s the ale here?”

“Oh! Maelen. It’s good to see you too. And Vessa,” he looked at her and nodded once, swallowing hard. “You too. Who’s this?”

Vessa sat next to Alric, leaving the chair across from her for Rusk. The thug dropped into it heavily.

“Alric, this is Rusk. Rusk, Alric,” Vessa said with a too-wide smile. Maelen spotted beads of sweat on the lass’ forehead.

“Rusk then,” Alric nodded at the man, his face carefully neutral. “How do you know these two? An old associate, perhaps?”

Rusk smirked. “Nah,” he said in a harsh whisper barely audible over the din of the tavern. “You could say Vessa and I are…” he smiled. “New friends.”

It was as if someone had slapped the mage. He went rigid, his jaw clenching. “What is that supposed–” he began to say angrily, but Vessa cut him off.

“Anyway!” she slapped the table. “Let’s get some ale, like Mae said. We’ve got business to discuss.” She fished into a pouch and produced a small handful of copper oaks. “Rusk, can you grab us four, please?”

His broad, blunt face looked like he was about to argue, but after a heartbeat the man shrugged, grunted, took the coins, and sauntered off lazily.

“What in the Herald’s name–” the lad began again, and once again Vessa cut him off, this time with a sharp wave of her hand and an exasperated sigh.

“Alric, please! Not here, not now. I thought it would be helpful to have some extra muscle for… whatever it is you’re about to drag us into. Rusk is good in a fight.”

He blinked, confused. “What I’m about to drag you into?”

“You have to admit, lad,” Maelen chuckled, trying to lighten the mood although she could feel her temper rising. She still couldn’t believe she had to deal with this nonsense. “That when we all meet in a tavern, it usually leads us into some sort of terrible danger. I’m not complaining, mind you—it also tends to lead to coin. So, spill it… What have you been doing these past two weeks that you wanted to tell us?”

Alric looked truly torn, whether to pursue his interrogation of Vessa or say whatever he’d planned to say. He studied the lass’ features, his own face suddenly drawn and haunted. Then his eyes flicked to the bar, where Rusk was waiting for their mugs. He pressed his lips together and seemed to make up his mind. With a nod, he brushed a hand through his long hair and blew out a breath.

“Okay, yes. Well. I have been busy, and yes there’s quite a lot. It took me several days and not a small sum of silver to gain access to,” he glanced around and lowered his voice. “The scrolls I’ve been wanting to read. It’s been fascinating!” A bright glint entered his eyes, and inwardly Maelen shook her head. She simply didn’t understand people who got joy out of reading in dark rooms.

“Maybe the quick version, lad,” Maelen interrupted, leaning over the table. “Vess says that Rusk is trustworthy, but only share what you’re happy to have him hear once he comes back.”

Vessa didn’t look happy at the comment, and Alric paused, thinking. His eyes flicked again over to the thug at the bar. “Yes, alright. Have you heard of the Silent Compact?” he asked, almost too quietly to hear.

She and Vessa stared at him. He nodded. “I didn’t think so. It was…” he licked his lips, as if looking for the right words, “A secret crusade, hundreds of years ago, by three separate religious orders here in the city. They are the ones that led the defeat of…” his gaze wandered over the surrounding tables to see if anyone was listening. “You-know-who. They built Thornmere Hold! They trapped the demon’s generals! They saved Oakton!” He leaned back, blowing out another long breath. “I’ve discovered what orders were involved, but not the individuals. And everything written from this mysterious group is innuendo and code, so I still don’t know where the other hidden locations are or what they contain. But I’m getting closer. I just,” he brushed a hand through his hair again. “I just need more time.”

As he quieted, Vessa frowned. “So… you’re not sending us back out into the wilds?”

Maelen burst out in an unexpected belly laugh. Tables around her quieted and began whispering. “You sound disappointed, lass! I thought you said you weren’t leaving the city for a good long while.”

Vessa crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “I’m not disappointed, just surprised. So why are we here, Alric?”

“I… need more silver. If you have it. To bribe the scribe who’s giving me access.”

Vessa’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve spent your share? Already?”

Maelen crossed her arms, temper rising again. “How much are we talking, lad? We’re here to gain coin, not give it away.”

Before he could answer, Vessa tapped her chin with a thin finger. “Hey, Mae. Maybe we go after this merchant’s brat, then? While we’ve got Rusk’s services?”

Maelen rolled her eyes. “No, dammit. I said leave it alone and it’ll pass. But I do have a lead on a job if you’re bored. And we don’t even have to leave the city.”

“Wait, whose son?” Alric said, seemingly annoyed by the change in subject. “I’m talking about saving us all, not wealth! I may eventually have information that even the Castellan should hear!” he hissed.

Maelen glowered. “I’ve said it before, lad: We’re not heroes. Find your info and warn the city officials, if that’s your goal. But pay for it yourself. Vess and I are here to–”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, dove,” a wry, harsh voice interjected. “But the scribe here and I’re overdue a conversation.”

Maelen turned to see a middle-aged man in black leather, with close-cropped dark hair going gray at the temples, heavy salt-and-pepper stubble on his sharp jaw. He was lean and muscled, with a sword at his hip, and every bit of him bore scars. The long line of an old knife wound pulled one side of his mouth, it looked like a divot had been taken out of the side of his neck, and long-ago burns pitted the skin of one forearm—and those were just the ones she took in with a glance. Everywhere there were thin white lines of old wounds. This man was a dangerous one, she saw immediately, but that realization didn’t stay her temper. Rage bloomed in her chest, making her cheeks hot.

For his part, Alric seemed to have no recognition of the man at all. He blinked in surprise. “Me? Who are–”

“Get in line, old man,” Maelen growled from her chair. “We’re talking to the lad, and you can wait your turn outside.” The urge to fight and spill blood rose, her fingers aching to pull loose her mace and throttle this intruder, city watch be damned.

“Ah,” he smiled easily, spreading his calloused hands. “Can’t, see.” His hard eyes flicked down to his left breast, then back up to meet hers. She looked where he indicated. A beaten metal symbol shone in the dim light at the back of the tavern, looking like a cat’s claw. It was the sign of the Iron Thorn, Oakton’s for-hire law enforcement. Maelen narrowed her eyes and he grinned, turning his attention back to Alric smugly. “This fellow and I’re gonna talk. Now.”

The man’s eyes flicked casually to Vessa, taking in the table. Then his head whipped back and fixed on her. His expression melted into disbelief.

“You!” he gasped.

Without a word, Vessa vaulted from her seat and ran for the door.

The Iron Thorn man wasn’t surprised for long. He snarled something and dashed after Vessa, both of them weaving through wailing clerks and scribes.

“What is happening!?” Alric yelled into the chaos.

“After her! Let’s go!” she barked, and threw her chair aside to pursue.

Unlike Vessa and the man, Maelen didn’t try to avoid anyone. She tossed pale, robed figures aside and pushed her way through abandoned chairs. As she passed Rusk, holding four mugs precariously, foam slopping over the rims, she beckoned him to follow. All the while, Maelen kept her eyes on Vessa and the door to the tavern.

Vessa stumbled and the scarred man almost caught her at the door, but with a burst of speed she launched herself outside, the yawning doorway shedding light across the room’s interior. The man slipped out as well, and then both figured disappeared from view. Maelen cursed and redoubled her efforts, hoping that Alric and Rusk were close behind.

By the time Maelen was out into open air, the rage in her chest was tinting her vision red. She breathed hard like a bellows, and her knuckles tingled as if she’d punched someone. Had she done so, to clear the way? Maelen didn’t remember. Huffing, she scanned the streets. Many passerby had stopped to gawk at whatever was happening, including a decent crowd in front of the Inkbinders Lodge.

She spied the man in black on a street to her right just as Rusk and Alric burst from the door, panting. “There!” she barked, then stomped after them. Maelen didn’t think there was any way she—or especially Alric—would catch Vessa in a footrace, but she hoped that the gray-templed man was less spry. Tackling him to the ground was just as good. She kept the man in black within her sights as she ran, ready to throttle his scarred face if she could reach it.

Vessa must have turned down a narrow alleyway and dropped one of her smoke bombs, because Maelen skidded to her right and found herself choking on bitter mist that burned her eyes. Growling, she pushed forward and through the cloud and into an empty alleyway. She paused and heard footsteps slapping the cobblestones around a bend, and dashed ahead. Behind her, at least one of her companions followed several paces behind, though she didn’t turn to see who.

All of Maelen’s instincts told her she was being rash, that she didn’t even know what relationship this man had to Vessa, much less Alric. Besides, pummeling an Iron Thorn agent was a fast way to finding oneself in shackles in a dungeon somewhere. The man was likely in pursuit of Vessa because of her warrant, and while it was fine for Vessa to dodge the authorities, actually interfering—by assaulting the legal officer, no less—wasn’t the smart move. And yet, she redoubled her effort, panting and sweating, her hands tight fists. Screw smart moves. She needed to hit that man, like a fish needed water.

Maelen burst from an alleyway into a largely empty street somewhere in the warehouse district. The man in black stood across the street with his back to her, looking up and examining one of the windows. He was also panting, but not nearly as hard as Maelen, and as she jogged towards him he turned.

“You’re an associate of hers–?” he began to ask.

But Maelen punched him straight in the face.

Next: Brannic Sootward [with game notes]

ToC30: Surprises [with game notes]

On By MagicJMSIn Fantasy Fiction, Tabletop Roleplaying, Tales of Calvenor3 Comments

[prose-only version here]

Artwork by © anaislalovi. All rights reserved

Chapter XXX! Let’s go! As I mentioned last week, I’m going to try two new things in this third story of Alric, Maelen, and Vessa. First, I’m attempting to keep the adventure confined to Oakton, both giving me a chance to flesh out the city and pressure-testing Tales of Argosa’s flavor of urban adventuring. By the time the PCs head back out into the wilds beyond the city walls, I suspect the experience will be harrowing in the extreme.

My second goal this time around is to try weaving multiple “mini-adventures” into the narrative. My feeling with the Starless Rift is that it placed Alric a little too center stage as the protagonist, which makes sense since his patron is the primary antagonist. This time, hopefully the interweaving of smaller stories will help balance the scales a bit. Besides, the “mini-adventures” idea sounds fun… I’m basically just going to keep pummeling the PCs with problems until around Chapter 50, when they’ll earn more Downtime.

We’ve already established a few plot threads: First, Vessa’s confrontation last Downtime with (we now know) a merchant’s son Joryn is going to turn into trouble for the party, and this plot connects somehow with Alric’s access to the Inkbinders Lodge’s forbidden tomes. We also have Neddy Rook’s “secret ruin” (which will be within Oakton) offer, and the promise of treasure. But we can do more!

It’s time to revisit the famed Threads and Characters lists. I currently have 17 Threads entries. Stripping out what’s already covered by the three above, Alric’s research, and any that absolutely take place outside of Oakton, I’m left with: 1) Alric in debt to his family, 2) Vessa’s stolen writ-seal and forgotten night of revelry (way back in Chapter 1!), 3) Major magic item: The Bonebreaker, and 4) Golden lanterns: Keys to defeating Orthuun? Easy enough… let’s roll a 1d4! I roll a 3, the Bonebreaker. Excellent. I now have multiple places where I can drop surprises and twists on the PCs, keeping them on their toes. There’s also one mini-adventure per PC, plus the promise of the Ruins, which includes all of them equally. I’ll start a separate little sheet to keep track of how each is progressing over the twenty-or-so chapters.

Let’s not forget the Characters list, though! As I pull the threads above, I’ll be rolling on this list regularly, modified to take out any characters clearly outside of the city (like Sarin the Night Captain, Saelith the Vanished, or the hill giant from Chapter 25). In fact, let’s begin with a Characters roll, and we’ll have that person kick off the story. I roll Brannic Sootward, the Iron Thorn investigator that Joryn-the-punk was going to intimidate when Maelen and Vessa interfered. Perfecto!

XXX.

Thawmere 12, Wyrdsday, Year 732

Maelen looked from the lad to the lass and frowned. Dammit all and young people’s urges. It was clear that the two of them had kindled some sort of romantic connection when returning from the Starless Rift, and it was equally clear that Rusk, the fellow Vessa had brought, was now a rival in his eyes. The mage’s intense stare was fixed on the blocky man, and he returned the gaze with a smirk. Vessa swallowed and looked uncomfortable. Meanwhile, as the awkward silence stretched on, patrons in the tavern were beginning to mumble and whisper all around them. This bloody mess was not something she needed. Maelen silently cursed and tried to rein in the situation.

“Nice to see you, lad,” she said. He blinked and seemed to see her for the first time. Maelen took her chair, swiveled it around, and sat. “How’s the ale here?”

“Oh! Maelen. It’s good to see you too. And Vessa,” he looked at her and nodded once, swallowing hard. “You too. Who’s this?”

Vessa sat next to Alric, leaving the chair across from her for Rusk. The thug dropped into it heavily.

“Alric, this is Rusk. Rusk, Alric,” Vessa said with a too-wide smile. Maelen spotted beads of sweat on the lass’ forehead.

“Rusk then,” Alric nodded at the man, his face carefully neutral. “How do you know these two? An old associate, perhaps?”

Rusk smirked. “Nah,” he said in a harsh whisper barely audible over the din of the tavern. “You could say Vessa and I are…” he smiled. “New friends.”

It was as if someone had slapped the mage. He went rigid, his jaw clenching. “What is that supposed–” he began to say angrily, but Vessa cut him off.

“Anyway!” she slapped the table. “Let’s get some ale, like Mae said. We’ve got business to discuss.” She fished into a pouch and produced a small handful of copper oaks. “Rusk, can you grab us four, please?”

His broad, blunt face looked like he was about to argue, but after a heartbeat the man shrugged, grunted, took the coins, and sauntered off lazily.

“What in the Herald’s name–” the lad began again, and once again Vessa cut him off, this time with a sharp wave of her hand and an exasperated sigh.

“Alric, please! Not here, not now. I thought it would be helpful to have some extra muscle for… whatever it is you’re about to drag us into. Rusk is good in a fight.”

He blinked, confused. “What I’m about to drag you into?”

“You have to admit, lad,” Maelen chuckled, trying to lighten the mood although she could feel her temper rising. She still couldn’t believe she had to deal with this nonsense. “That when we all meet in a tavern, it usually leads us into some sort of terrible danger. I’m not complaining, mind you—it also tends to lead to coin. So, spill it… What have you been doing these past two weeks that you wanted to tell us?”

Alric looked truly torn, whether to pursue his interrogation of Vessa or say whatever he’d planned to say. He studied the lass’ features, his own face suddenly drawn and haunted. Then his eyes flicked to the bar, where Rusk was waiting for their mugs. He pressed his lips together and seemed to make up his mind. With a nod, he brushed a hand through his long hair and blew out a breath.

“Okay, yes. Well. I have been busy, and yes there’s quite a lot. It took me several days and not a small sum of silver to gain access to,” he glanced around and lowered his voice. “The scrolls I’ve been wanting to read. It’s been fascinating!” A bright glint entered his eyes, and inwardly Maelen shook her head. She simply didn’t understand people who got joy out of reading in dark rooms.

“Maybe the quick version, lad,” Maelen interrupted, leaning over the table. “Vess says that Rusk is trustworthy, but only share what you’re happy to have him hear once he comes back.”

Vessa didn’t look happy at the comment, and Alric paused, thinking. His eyes flicked again over to the thug at the bar. “Yes, alright. Have you heard of the Silent Compact?” he asked, almost too quietly to hear.

She and Vessa stared at him. He nodded. “I didn’t think so. It was…” he licked his lips, as if looking for the right words, “A secret crusade, hundreds of years ago, by three separate religious orders here in the city. They are the ones that led the defeat of…” his gaze wandered over the surrounding tables to see if anyone was listening. “You-know-who. They built Thornmere Hold! They trapped the demon’s generals! They saved Oakton!” He leaned back, blowing out another long breath. “I’ve discovered what orders were involved, but not the individuals. And everything written from this mysterious group is innuendo and code, so I still don’t know where the other hidden locations are or what they contain. But I’m getting closer. I just,” he brushed a hand through his hair again. “I just need more time.”

As he quieted, Vessa frowned. “So… you’re not sending us back out into the wilds?”

Maelen burst out in an unexpected belly laugh. Tables around her quieted and began whispering. “You sound disappointed, lass! I thought you said you weren’t leaving the city for a good long while.”

Vessa crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “I’m not disappointed, just surprised. So why are we here, Alric?”

“I… need more silver. If you have it. To bribe the scribe who’s giving me access.”

Vessa’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve spent your share? Already?”

Maelen crossed her arms, temper rising again. “How much are we talking, lad? We’re here to gain coin, not give it away.”

Before he could answer, Vessa tapped her chin with a thin finger. “Hey, Mae. Maybe we go after this merchant’s brat, then? While we’ve got Rusk’s services?”

Maelen rolled her eyes. “No, dammit. I said leave it alone and it’ll pass. But I do have a lead on a job if you’re bored. And we don’t even have to leave the city.”

“Wait, whose son?” Alric said, seemingly annoyed by the change in subject. “I’m talking about saving us all, not wealth! I may eventually have information that even the Castellan should hear!” he hissed.

Maelen glowered. “I’ve said it before, lad: We’re not heroes. Find your info and warn the city officials, if that’s your goal. But pay for it yourself. Vess and I are here to–”

Brannic Sootward is about to interrupt, but first we need to figure out who the heck he is. I’ll use the same general approach as I used creating Rusk, from the Hireling tables: First, is Brannic a non-combatant or mercenary? I roll high/low and get mercenary. What’s his background? I roll 1d8 and get ex-city watch, which makes perfect sense since he’s an Iron Thorn investigator (the Iron Thorn are essentially the “for hire” police in Oakton). His personality is reckless, which is a surprise, and his distinctive trait is obvious scars. Sounds like a badass! Gear-wise, he has a shortsword, shortbow, and medium armor. And sure, let’s roll on the Catchphrase Table: “Fucking magic innit?” Ha! Okay, good enough. Let’s get this party started…

“I’m sorry to interrupt, dove,” a wry, harsh voice interjected. “But the scribe here and I’re overdue a conversation.”

Maelen turned to see a middle-aged man in black leather, with close-cropped dark hair going gray at the temples, heavy salt-and-pepper stubble on his sharp jaw. He was lean and muscled, with a sword at his hip, and every bit of him bore scars. The long line of an old knife wound pulled one side of his mouth, it looked like a divot had been taken out of the side of his neck, and long-ago burns pitted the skin of one forearm—and those were just the ones she took in with a glance. Everywhere there were thin white lines of old wounds. This man was a dangerous one, she saw immediately, but that realization didn’t stay her temper. Rage bloomed in her chest, making her cheeks hot.

For his part, Alric seemed to have no recognition of the man at all. He blinked in surprise. “Me? Who are–”

“Get in line, old man,” Maelen growled from her chair. “We’re talking to the lad, and you can wait your turn outside.” The urge to fight and spill blood rose, her fingers aching to pull loose her mace and throttle this intruder, city watch be damned.

“Ah,” he smiled easily, spreading his calloused hands. “Can’t, see.” His hard eyes flicked down to his left breast, then back up to meet hers. She looked where he indicated. A beaten metal symbol shone in the dim light at the back of the tavern, looking like a cat’s claw. It was the sign of the Iron Thorn, Oakton’s for-hire law enforcement. Maelen narrowed her eyes and he grinned, turning his attention back to Alric smugly. “This fellow and I’re gonna talk. Now.”

The man’s eyes flicked casually to Vessa, taking in the table. Then his head whipped back and fixed on her. His expression melted into disbelief.

“You!” he gasped.

Without a word, Vessa vaulted from her seat and ran for the door.

I said that I’ve been itching for a Chase, so it shall be so! Chases in Tales of Argosa are a ton of fun. Normally they’re resolved when a whole party is either in pursuit or retreat, but in this case it will just be Vessa (the quarry) versus Brannic (the chaser), with Maelen, Alric, and Rusk far behind. The first step is to figure out the starting gap, 1d4+3 abstact “lengths.” Since they’re both starting at the same table, I’m going to say Vessa begins with only the minimum distance of 4 lengths.

The Chase itself lasts six legs. The timescale for each leg is flexible, whatever fits the story. If Brannic can reduce the gap to zero before the end of the last leg, he’s caught her. If not, Vessa escapes. I’ll use the Human, Assassin stats for Brannic, minus the poisoned blade.

So, how do we resolve the legs? It’s a two step process. First, each side makes opposed Con(Athletics) checks. Vessa rolls a 5 under 11, which is a Great Success. But Brannic is a wily veteran, and rolls a 2 under 13. Since he won and also has a Great Success, he gains 2 lengths, halving the distance. The second step is to roll on the Chase Event table. Vessa rolls Burst of Speed. If she can succeed on another Con(Athletics) roll, she’ll dig deep and gain a length. Another 5 does it, and since it’s a Great Success I’ll give her both lengths back. Distance: 4 lengths.

Leg 2: Brannic again wins (11 versus 12), but a regular success gains only one length this time. Vessa then rolls All In!, allowing her to take an action to improve her escape. She’ll drop a Smoke Bomb, giving Brannic a -2 to his next roll. Distance: 3 lengths.

Leg 3: Both sides roll a Terrible Failure! Hm. I think this means the distance stays the same. Vessa then rolls Hidey Hole. She makes a Dex(Stealth) check (Success) while Brannic makes a Perc(Detection) check (Success) – and no matter what the result the Chase ends. With the -2 from the smoke bomb, both individuals roll the exact same number under their target. Hm again. I think this means that a) Vessa gets away through an alleyway, but b) though Brannic can’t catch her, he clocks exactly where she went. For this escape, Vessa rolls a Luck(Con) to see if she’s Fatigued. She rolls a 10 over 9, failing. Yep, she’s Fatigued, meaning she loses 1 point of Constitution and is Encumbered (disadvantage on many checks) until she sleeps.

See? Chases are fun!

The Iron Thorn man wasn’t surprised for long. He snarled something and dashed after Vessa, both of them weaving through wailing clerks and scribes.

“What is happening!?” Alric yelled into the chaos.

“After her! Let’s go!” she barked, and threw her chair aside to pursue.

Unlike Vessa and the man, Maelen didn’t try to avoid anyone. She tossed pale, robed figures aside and pushed her way through abandoned chairs. As she passed Rusk, holding four mugs precariously, foam slopping over the rims, she beckoned him to follow. All the while, Maelen kept her eyes on Vessa and the door to the tavern.

Vessa stumbled and the scarred man almost caught her at the door, but with a burst of speed she launched herself outside, the yawning doorway shedding light across the room’s interior. The man slipped out as well, and then both figured disappeared from view. Maelen cursed and redoubled her efforts, hoping that Alric and Rusk were close behind.

By the time Maelen was out into open air, the rage in her chest was tinting her vision red. She breathed hard like a bellows, and her knuckles tingled as if she’d punched someone. Had she done so, to clear the way? Maelen didn’t remember. Huffing, she scanned the streets. Many passerby had stopped to gawk at whatever was happening, including a decent crowd in front of the Inkbinders Lodge.

She spied the man in black on a street to her right just as Rusk and Alric burst from the door, panting. “There!” she barked, then stomped after them. Maelen didn’t think there was any way she—or especially Alric—would catch Vessa in a footrace, but she hoped that the gray-templed man was less spry. Tackling him to the ground was just as good. She kept the man in black within her sights as she ran, ready to throttle his scarred face if she could reach it.

Vessa must have turned down a narrow alleyway and dropped one of her smoke bombs, because Maelen skidded to her right and found herself choking on bitter mist that burned her eyes. Growling, she pushed forward and through the cloud and into an empty alleyway. She paused and heard footsteps slapping the cobblestones around a bend, and dashed ahead. Behind her, at least one of her companions followed several paces behind, though she didn’t turn to see who.

All of Maelen’s instincts told her she was being rash, that she didn’t even know what relationship this man had to Vessa, much less Alric. Besides, pummeling an Iron Thorn agent was a fast way to finding oneself in shackles in a dungeon somewhere. The man was likely in pursuit of Vessa because of her warrant, and while it was fine for Vessa to dodge the authorities, actually interfering—by assaulting the legal officer, no less—wasn’t the smart move. And yet, she redoubled her effort, panting and sweating, her hands tight fists. Screw smart moves. She needed to hit that man, like a fish needed water.

Maelen burst from an alleyway into a largely empty street somewhere in the warehouse district. The man in black stood across the street with his back to her, looking up and examining one of the windows. He was also panting, but not nearly as hard as Maelen, and as she jogged towards him he turned.

“You’re an associate of hers–?” he began to ask.

But Maelen punched him straight in the face.

Next: Brannic Sootward [with game notes]