Author: MagicJMS

A middle-aged, unassuming corporate Human Resources nerd who grew up collecting comic books and playing role-playing games. I wrote a weekly column for the first five years of magicthegathering.com and have fourteen unfinished novels (and counting).

Choosing a Supers System, Part 4: ICONS

On By MagicJMSIn Age of Wonders, Superhero Gaming, Tabletop Roleplaying3 Comments

Another post, another quest for my soulmate game.

By now you’re aware that I’m envisioning a new solo-play venture, one that involves a genre mash-up and thus a particular set of requirements for choosing my next game. These requirements are:

  • A superhero game that can be played in a fantasy setting, plus allow for anachronistic weapons and technology. Basically, the superpowers and fantasy elements need to be satisfying, but allow for other genre shenanigans.
  • Is neither too crunchy (if I’m consulting forums or rulebooks more often than writing, that’s bad) nor too lightweight (I need to feel like the dice are guiding the story and enhancing the narrative). I want to feel like the mechanics support the story.
  • Level-up jumps in power. My idea is that the PCs start as “street level” heroes and become demigods as the story progresses. Something will be pushing them closer to godhood, which is a core part of the story. The game should not only allow for those different levels, but be fun to play at all of them.
  • No hard-wired comics tropes (like secret identities, costumes, etc.). The story will be a genre mash-up, so I can’t hew too closely to any overly specific formulas.

I have another “lighter weight” game system on my pile, so I figured it would make sense to tackle it next in direct comparison to Supers! RED andProwlers & Paragons. It’s also the most popular of the three systems: It’s time for ICONS!

ICONS

ICONS (yes, it seems to be always capitalized, though it’s not an acronym… yell it with me now) is the brainchild of Steve Kenson, longtime TTRPG veteran and original designer of Mutants & Masterminds, probably the most popular and played superhero game of all time. In listening to interviews with Steve, it sounds like he was trying, with ICONS, to create a more accessible game than M&M, something that gamers of all ages could jump into with minimal start-up costs. This goal is further emphasized by the presentation of the core book (the “Assembled Edition” is the 2014 revised book, and seems to be the definitive ruleset), which features Saturday Morning Cartoon-like artwork from Dan Houser and is pocket-sized. Everything about ICONS is non-threatening and kiddie, which I’ll admit for me at first was a turn-off.

The bones of the game are steeped in Fate Core, a rules-light, narrative-focused system. Every opposed test includes rolling a single d6, adding the value of the Attribute or Power you’re using (always on a scale of 1 to 10), and comparing the result to another single d6 plus the opposing ability. Dead easy. Results of these tests have a narrative range (seven possible outcomes, from “Massive Success” to “Massive Failure”). Each character also has descriptive, non-numerical Qualities (e.g. “I can do this all day” or “All-American hero” might be on Captain America’s sheet), and players or the GM can invoke (using Determination points, the game’s metacurrency) these Qualities either for or against the PC. Stamina is the “hit points” stat, a combination of a character’s Strength and Willpower. Range and time in combat are both abstracted. All these points are like the previous two games I’ve explored and seem characteristic of many narrative games. I’ve read some reviews annoyed that ICONS uses many of the same mechanics as Fate Core but changes the terms unnecessarily. Since I’ve not played any Fate proper games, I’m blissfully unaware of these issues.

Sitting on top of these relatively basic mechanics are a metric ton of wrinkles and optional rules that make ICONS deceptively deep. Characters can combine effort to overcome otherwise-impossible opposing numbers, or the GM can set up “pyramid tests,” which are multistep challenges that simulate things like stopping trains from colliding. Players can retcon the fiction and use their powers for creative stunts. The game’s lethality is a choice, as are things like sustaining injuries. The list goes on and on, and that’s just from the 2014 rulebook. Over the past ten years, a metric ton of splatbooks, supplements, and additions have piled up, much like my bae Dungeon Crawl Classics. Unlike DCC, Steve Kenson has managed to collect many supplements into a few “greatest hits” books. For me, the best are Great Power, which adds a bunch of new powers to the base game, Origins, which expands the character creation process and introduces Knacks and Specialties, and ICONS Presents!, a 2019 summary of all sorts of variant rules and additions to the game. Included in this last book is a whole section on playing ICONS in a fantasy setting!

Character creation in ICONS is meant to be random (though there’s an optional point-buy way of making characters, the reverse situation from the last two games I explored) and is supposed to go quickly. So… let’s try it out!

To simulate what I want to do in my game, I’m dipping into ICONS Presents! for the alternate “fantasy hero” tables. I’m also going to roll on the very fun Background tables in Origins to flesh out the character. And, to fully stretch all the supplements I own, I’ll also use the expanded Powers tables in Great Power.

My first table is Origin, and I roll a 1 on a d6: My character is Arcane, with an innate gift for magical power. I also receive an additional arcane Knack.

I next roll on Archetype, a get a 5 on a d6: Stealth, adding +2 to my Coordination and Awareness. Cool. It’s an arcane trickster or thief of some kind.

Now it’s time to roll up my Attributes on 2d6, consulting a slightly modified table for Fantasy. Here is what I roll:

Prowess (ability to fight): 3 (Average)

Coordination: 6+2 from my Origin: 8 (Amazing)

Strength: 6 (Great)

Intellect: 6 (Great)

Awareness: 5+2: 7 (Incredible)

Willpower: 2 (Poor)

I then get to swap two Attributes, and I’ll swap Strength and Willpower. Whoever this person is, they’ll be a slight, agile, headstrong person, but not particularly musclebound.

Next I would roll for powers, but the Fantasy rules say to pick a few Knacks instead. I’m actually going to do a bit of both, selecting 2 each of Knacks and Specialties (their “fantasy” profession and skills), then rolling for a single Power.

For our magician-thief, I’ll pick Vanish and Escape Artist as Knacks, plus Stealth and Occult as Specialties. My character was, I’ve decided (at least until rolling up the background information), an Indiana Jones-like relic hunter before acquiring otherworldly abilities.

What was that Power? I roll “Offensive” and then “Dazzle.” My character can overwhelm an opponent’s senses somehow. Cool, and mighty handy given a PC who wants to mostly get out of combat instead of fight.

Now I turn to rolling up my character’s Background. After a whole bunch of rolls, I come up with a female, pale-skinned, seventeen-year-old who is a fun-loving and playful person. She values a mentor/teacher and yearns for love. She believes that people need leadership and guidance. She grew up in a rural community and was well-treated, at least until her entire family was betrayed by a loved one and lost everything. She then found a mentor and a windfall. Excellent stuff, random tables! I’ve got her in my mind, and as such writing her origin and Qualities is simple.

Here’s where I ended up:

The character creation process took me quite a bit longer than, say, Prowlers & Paragons, but that’s partly because I was flipping through four separate books. I have no doubt that it would become a fast process with practice. More importantly, it was fun, and generated a character that I could immediately drop into the story I’m wanting to tell.

Why ICONS Works For Me

It’s clear that Steve Kenson has put a lot of love over the past dozen years into ICONS, and it’s built on a Fate Core system that’s tried and true. As a result, ICONS is an intuitive system that is not only easy to understand but easy to tweak. I made a judgment call on what to use between standard superhero random character generation and the fantasy alternate tables without feeling self-conscious about the decision, even though Meri was my first character. Because the game always comes down to a single d6 role plus a single value, there’s not a lot to bog down speed of play. I love that the timekeeping system out of combat is divided into chapters, issues, and series, which sounds perfect for serial fiction. Which is all to say that ICONS’ core mechanics are easy to digest, easy to use, and I can easily see it working in my homebrewed world. With the four books I already own, I’m ready to play.

Although I didn’t think of it as a requirement when I began this process, I’m finding that random character generation is foundational to me being interested in the character creation process. Recall that I’m coming off six full months of Dungeon Crawl Classics, which is likely the most random-table heavy game in any genre. So much of solo play is combating my paranoia about overly railroading the story, and the randomness of rolls is what generates my surprise and delight. I’m already more interested in the character I made above than either of the Evlyn Towers I made with point-buy systems.

The level of support for ICONS is also heartening. There are tons of books, from both Ad Infinitum Adventures (Steve’s company) and third parties. I found no less than a dozen form-fillable PDF character sheets online, for example. There are Wiki and Facebook pages and a Discord server. The community feels dormant, but there’s still a faint heartbeat there. And hey… there’s even VTT support! I haven’t used Fantasy Grounds VTT before and have heard that it’s an expensive endeavor, but it’s nice to know that it’s there if I need it.

My ICONS Hesitations

My two hesitations on ICONS are related. First, because everything in the game is based on a 10-point power scale and every roll is a single d6, the power spread in the game doesn’t feel huge. As a result, I’ve read some forum comments that it might be a better game for low- and mid-level play instead of cosmic-threat level. It’s not a game that has particular rules for “street level” or “superheroic” play, because I don’t think those distinctions really exist in ICONS.

…Which means that it’s difficult to envision what “leveling up” looks like, when what I’m seeking are clear jumps in power once the character hit story milestones. There’s a section in the rulebook that discusses how to give Minor, Moderate, and Major Achievements, and Major Achievements (increasing Determination, adding Powers, etc.) might be enough, especially if I ignore the other two. It’s an open question, though, and one I probably wouldn’t sort out until I was already deeply invested timewise into my campaign. It would be a shame to get six months into a solo campaign, only to realize that I’m going to have to switch systems to fully realize the higher levels of play I had intended when I began.

I also don’t love juggling so many books to play, which is the same complaint I had with DCC. But I can’t really ding other systems for not having enough supplemental material and then complain that ICONS has too much material that I want to use. Consider this a minor irritant, not a reason to play another system.

One Game to Rule Them All

Of the three lightweight systems I’ve explored these past few weeks, it’s clear to me that ICONS is the best fit for what I want to do. The question is: Does moving it into first position on my list mean that I absolutely won’t come back to Supers! RED? For now, no. Yes, ICONS has the better character creation system, and far better support and materials. Supers! RED is different enough mechanically, though, that I may end up deciding that I want its narrative flexibility (particularly how it handles multiple Resistances) and the clear ladder of power levels. Heck, I could even see using the random tables in ICONS to generate the concepts for Supers! RED. So for now, I’ll keep both on the list:

Top Contender: ICONS

Second: Supers! RED

Not currently in consideration:

Choosing a Supers System, Part 5

Choosing a Supers System, Part 3: Prowlers & Paragons

On By MagicJMSIn Age of Wonders, Superhero Gaming, Tabletop Roleplaying5 Comments

It’s my second of many superhero TTRPG deep dives (links at the end of each installment to the others)!

Why am I suddenly diving into so many games? I’m planning to continue my solo gaming experience, but this time using a homebrewed world, story, and characters. The setting I’m envisioning is a genre mash-up, basically superpowers layered onto traditional fantasy, with a sprinkling of technology. Could I have started with something simpler? Heck yes, and maybe I should have done so. But I’m enjoying the specific requirements for a project like this one, and using it as an excuse to pour over some games on my shelf that I’ve either never read or have wanted to take for a test spin. Choosing the system has become a time-consuming tangle, but it’s been fun so far.

Speaking of requirements, I’ve articulated them as:

  • A superhero game that can be played in a fantasy setting, plus allow for anachronistic weapons and technology. Basically, the superpowers and fantasy elements need to be satisfying, but allow for other genre shenanigans.
  • Is neither too crunchy (if I’m consulting forums or rulebooks more often than writing, that’s bad) nor too lightweight (I need to feel like the dice are guiding the story and enhancing the narrative). I want to feel like the mechanics support the story.
  • Level-up jumps in power. My idea is that the PCs start as “street level” heroes and become demigods as the story progresses. Something will be pushing them closer to godhood, which is a core part of the story. The game should not only allow for those different levels, but be fun to play at all of them.
  • No hard-wired comics tropes (like secret identities, costumes, etc.). The story will be a genre mash-up, so I can’t hew too closely to any overly specific formulas.

My previous exploration tackled Supers! RED, a game that I’d bought after reading its glowing reviews but that I’d never sat down to read cover to cover. The other game in this vein is Prowlers & Paragons, also bought when I was in a superhero TTRPG buying frenzy because of how many people said they love it. What’s different about P&P is how many folks declare loudly that it’s their favorite supers system. When I added it to my “to be explored” pile, it was in large part to give me an excuse to understand what everyone was raving about. Let’s jump in!

Prowlers & Paragons

Prowlers & Paragons was first released in 2013, with the “Ultimate Edition” launched via a 2019 Kickstarter. Before I sit down to read a rulebook for the first time, I often search through easy-to-find game reviews to orient my brain. What’s fascinating (and exciting) about P&P is how many old-school lovers of Champions swear by it, and it seems to be a haven for people who, for whatever reason, bounced off Mutants & Masterminds. Hey, I’m a lover of Champions! I bounced off M&M (at least gameplay… I still love making characters)!

Check out this comment, from Richard in the above DMs Guild forum: “I would recommend this game for players of games like Champions or Mutants & Masterminds who find the math oriented nature of combat to feel very clunky and not very comic book like. Likewise I feel that fans of other narrative games, such as Cortex Prime, could look at this and have a good alternative game to use if their players want more crunch in the character creation. Alternatively I could see this game being used to create a really good fantasy game as well. I have often used super hero rpgs to run Dungeons & Dragons games. I feel character creation is much more fun in such situations and combat tends to work better.”

Squeee!!

In terms of how the core mechanics work, I’m going to use another quotation, this time from a 2022 review from Timothy S. Brannan: “The game mechanic is very basic and very easy to use. Every trait, ability, power, or what have you has a score. Figure out what you want to do, find the right combination, add those numbers up, minus any negative modifiers, and then roll that number of d6s.  “2s” and “4s” are one success, “6s” are two successes.  Compare that to the Thresholds table and you will know by how much you succeed, or fail.”

In a lot of ways, then, Prowlers & Paragaons shares its base DNA with Supers! RED. Everything has a d6 value, and gameplay involves rolling pools of dice. The difference here is that you aren’t adding the dice values in a pool, but instead counting the number of successes. As a result, dice pools in P&P can get large, since the game doesn’t care about your ability to do much math. The book routinely uses pools of 12d6 or more. If you like fistfuls of dice, this is a great game for you.

Combat is the crunchiest part of P&P, with specific terms like “active and passive defense” and “subdual damage,” but everything is theater of the mind and based on the basic mechanics from the review quoted above. Range and movement are abstracted to provide narrative flexibility, and a GM can decide how much things like size and cover matter to combat (or not). There are multiple pages of combat maneuvers, including rules for grappling, stunts, ambushes, defending others, etc. My general sense in reading the rulebook is that the non-combat parts of P&P are about who the narrator is, with a lot of open space to describe what’s happening. Combat, on the other hand, becomes more scripted, with clear initiative order and Health tracking. I’m not sure how I feel about the balance here without playing it.

Also like Supers! RED, character creation in P&P is a point-buy system with an optional random generator if you need a launching pad for ideas. The main differences between the two are a) the overall pool of points is larger (for street-level heroes, I used 12 for Supers! RED and 75 for P&P), b) P&P has more Attributes and Talents, which is what soaks up a lot of those extra points, and c) Flaws serve a different purpose. In Supers! RED, the equivalent of Flaws give you extra points to spend. In Prowlers & Paragons, though, Flaws create roleplaying situations in which you can receive Resolve points, the metacurrency that allows players to add dice, reroll dice, or add narrative features to a scene.

Because there are so many parallels between the two, I thought it might be fun to try and recreate my character Evlyn from the last post to see how it might differ here:

Comparing the two Evlyns from Supers! RED and P&P, you can see that, even with a street level hero, there is more detail here. Indeed, I’ve heard new players sometimes feel intimidated by the sheer number of Attributes, Talents, and Powers, especially if they’ve entered expecting a “light mechanics” system. That said, most of that sheet is fluff (though I like the many ways to add flavor), and since everything is expressed in a simple Xd format, once you’ve stared at a few characters sheets it’s all easy to grasp. Making my first PC took a little more time than Supers! RED, but not much. Like any points-buy system, the biggest trick was the “add one point here, take away two there” fiddling at the end to make sure I used exactly 75 points. Overall, I felt that I had plenty of points and options to make the character from my mind’s eye.

Why Prowlers & Paragons Works For Me

I worry that Supers! RED is too light mechanically, and Prowlers & Paragons is a definite step up in complexity. Combats can get crunchy, and things like chases and hazards are handled in “goals,” or multiple steps to resolve the situation. Because the “who gets to narrate” question is a core focus of the game, it’s a little odd to think about it in solo play. Thankfully there’s a “traditional results” variant rule that creates a table reminiscent of Blades in the Dark, changing the narrate-and-respond structure of resolving actions into “failure,” “success,” or “failure/success with a twist” which the GM can dictate. I love those mechanics, and it’s something I often find myself weaving into other TTRPGs. Also, like Supers! RED, we have tiering of enemies into Villains (full stats), Foes (same stats, half health), and Minions (one xd6 value), which creates encounters where PCs can feel especially super. Which is all to say, Prowlers & Paragons seems to have a lot of things I want out of my next game.

The system also has easy, clear jumps in power level built into the system since everything is based on point-buy character creation. Check out this glorious table from the core rulebook:

Perfect! I can easily see, instead of allowing PCs to spend the incremental Hero Points they receive at the end of each successful adventure, forcing them to save up until reaching a certain threshold. This sort of sudden jump in ability is, mechanically, what I’m hoping to create, and P&P makes this part of the storytelling easy and straightforward.

Finally, I want to say it’s a minor thing, but the more superhero game books I read, the more it matters to me: The Prowlers & Paragons book is gorgeous. Some of the art makes me wish it was a full comic book, and the layout is clean and easy to follow. Bouncing around chapters to find information is easy. The writing is clever and often delivered with a wink. After half a year with Dungeon Crawls Classics’ absolute monster of a rulebook and its scattered supplements, it’s delightful to have such a well-assembled book.

My Prowlers & Paragons Hesitations

Despite the quotation earlier in this exploration, I think the base P&P game requires some work to make it fit cleanly into a fantasy setting. Several of the Talents–Professional, Science, Technology, and Vehicles–are aimed at a decidedly modern comic book experience, and missing are things like Lore and Magic/Arcana. Similarly, several of the descriptions for Motivations, Flaws, etc. lean heavily into modern comic book tropes. None of these problems are crippling to my ability to play it in a fantasy setting, but it’s not out-of-the-box ready. As I’ve said before, I’m leery of homebrewing a system before I’ve even had a chance to play it as intended, and though the core game here is simple to grasp, it’s unlike most other TTRPGs I’ve played.

The biggest stumbling block for a fantasy setting is Gear. For me, equipment in P&P is caught in a weird limbo between narrative and crunchy. Characters can basically have whatever mundane gear they want, but these items often have mechanical boosts or effects. At some point, equipment is good enough to justify becoming its own Power, but that point isn’t obvious to me. Armor and weapons have tags that have defined mechanical impacts as well, some of which mimic Perks or Flaws that would normally cost or give you Hero Points. When thinking about a fantasy world where the PCs have superpowers but others don’t, the whole thing feels like a mess to sort through. I wish there was a P&P supplement that fully explored alternate settings like sword-and-sorcery or cyberpunk, which would help me feel more confident in how to navigate the many issues I see ahead.

I have a few other minor gripes about the system that already make me want to fiddle with it. For example, why doesn’t a character’s Motivation, which is given more than a full page in the book, somehow provide ways to generate Resolve? Another example: when making Evlyn, the only distinction between Blink and Teleport seems to be about combat, and so buying both felt overly taxing on my points build. I read in some reviews that P&P is easy to “break” from a balance perspective, and I’m just beginning to sniff at the edges of this problem even from a single read through the book. There is a way that a highly crunchy system like GURPS Supers or a highly abstracted system like Supers! RED works better for me, which is a surprise to discover.

Finally, I’m bummed to see that Prowlers & Paragons neither has a vibrant, active community nor even a creator website where I can find discussions, alternate rules, sample builds, etc. for inspiration (though I do believe a small Discord server exists). There’s no VTT support that I can find. These absences aren’t an enormous barrier, but they are discouraging to my confidence for committing to it for more than a one-shot foray.

One Game to Rule Them All

When I began my exploration into Prowlers & Paragons and reading reviews, I was sure that it would rank ahead of Supers! RED. Much to my surprise, I can more easily see committing to Supers! RED, and, while writing this post, often found myself thinking “this would be easier to figure out in Supers! RED than here.” My worries about Supers! RED being too lightweight and thus not keeping my interest remain, but P&P simply didn’t pull me in, despite its flashy presentation. In fact, if Supers! RED had the same art and layout, I’m pretty sure that the decision would have been ridiculously easy to make.

To be clear: I don’t want to yuck anyone’s yum; if P&P is your favorite supers system, that’s great. Feel free to argue with me in the comments. For me and for this particular project, however, I see too many ways it doesn’t quite match my hopes for it, despite the ridiculously-lovely rulebook.

As a result, our top contender hasn’t changed…

Top Contender: Supers! RED

Not currently in consideration:

Choosing a Supers System, Part 4

Choosing a Supers System, Part 2: Supers! RED

On By MagicJMSIn Age of Wonders, Superhero Gaming, Tabletop Roleplaying4 Comments

Last time, I outlined my dreams for my next project: Continuing the solo-play, serial writing I’ve done the past year with Dungeon Crawl Classics, but in a fantasy-superhero mash-up story of my own creation. Because DCC doesn’t do superheroes, I’ve opened the door to another TTRPG as the underlying system I’m playing. My general instinct has been that it’s easier to adapt a superhero game to a fantasy setting than taking a fantasy game and adding superpowers. I’m also open to more setting-agnostic games, especially ones that have both fantasy and superhero supplements.

The special requirements for the game I choose are:

  • A superhero game that can be played in a fantasy setting, plus allow for anachronistic weapons and technology. Basically, the superpowers and fantasy elements need to be satisfying, but allow for other genre shenanigans.
  • Is neither too crunchy (if I’m consulting forums or rulebooks more often than writing, that’s bad) nor too lightweight (I need to feel like the dice are guiding the story and enhancing the narrative). I want to feel like the mechanics support the story.
  • Level-up jumps in power. My idea is that the PCs start as “street level” heroes and become demigods as the story progresses. Something will be pushing them closer to godhood, which is a core part of the story. The game should not only allow for those different levels, but be fun to play at all of them.
  • No hard-wired comics tropes (like secret identities, costumes, etc.). The story will be a genre mash-up, so I can’t hew too closely to any overly specific formulas.

I’ve discussed the dozens of popular games that I’ve already discarded from consideration, including all the behemoths in the genre and some of my personal favorites. Today I begin my dive into the eight (yes, last time I said seven… but comments on the last post here, plus Facebook and Reddit discussion, convinced me to add one) games I’m still actively pondering. Truly, I still have no idea which one I’ll choose, but I’m hoping this series will untangle my brain. Each post is meant to be a full dive and exploration, to really pressure-test each system against my needs and wants.

Let’s kick things off! First off is one of the games on the pile I know the least…

Supers! RED

Probably the most annoying thing about Supers! RED is its name, which is just generic enough to make web searches difficult. It’s an abbreviation for Supers! Revised Edition, a 2014 revamp of a game originally published in 2010 by a different author. Any reviews and play-throughs I can find on the game use the “RED” nomenclature, though, so Supers! RED it is. Also, sometimes SUPERS! is all caps, but inconsistently, so shhh.

The original Supers! is a lightweight game system, using handfuls of d6s in a way that I think originated from the West End Games Star Wars system. I don’t own the original Supers! book, but here’s a nice interview with the RED authors describing why they decided to revise it and what improvements they made. Suffice it to say, they clarified rules, filled in gaps not covered (like how you break things or grappling rules), improved the presentation, and added examples and optional rules—so the game is essentially the same, but polished up and with more options. In other words, if you want to buy the game, get Supers! RED by Hazard Studios, not the original.

The core mechanic is that each attribute, skill, and power have an xd6 value, which you roll whenever you want to do something. In combat, opponents also roll abilities or powers to defend themselves, setting the DC to succeed. Each character has four resistances (Composure, Fortitude, Reaction, and Will), and PCs (not the GM) choose when taking damage which resistances to lower, so each character effectively has four distinct “hit point” pools. Indeed, one of the strengths of the system is that the PCs have a good amount of control over how to interpret what happens and why, while still grounding these decisions in dice rolls. For a tutorial on the basic system, check out this short video. Watching that video alone, it’s apparent that Supers! RED is easy to figure out, has a lot of narrative wiggle room, and adapts easily to multiple genres (there’s no functional difference between, for example, an arrow and a laser).

On top of that basic system are several tweaks that give the game some depth. There are combat maneuvers, Competency dice (the game’s meta-currency to give players an edge), power boosts and complications, PC advantages and disadvantages, plus optional rules for dice caps, pushing actions, wild dice, and alternate damage. Even without the options (the one I like best is adding a “wild die” to each dice pool that explodes, making actions have the potential for more dramatic effects, since the level of success matters when determining results of an action), there are interesting trade-offs in playing Supers! RED that hopefully keep the game fun to play despite its seeming simplicity.

One more thing I love (which is similar to my favorite supers game Sentinel Comics RPG): Enemies have different levels of complexity based on how important they are to the story. Major villains are built like PCs, with all the same Resistances and access to abilities. Major lieutenants are “henchmen,” and have an xD value, scaled to the threat they represent and what they use for all attacks and defense. “Mooks,” meanwhile, are groups of nameless enemies with a single xD value. Mechanically, henchmen and mooks are identical but get interpreted differently, one as an individual and one as a mob. This system allows PCs to feel like real superheroes, tackling piles of low-level enemies at a time and making bigger threats feel like final bosses.

To wrap my head more fully around the system, I made a starter character, keeping it a low-powered PC with a more classic fantasy base. Here she is:

I’m not going to go into all the ins and outs of what’s on the sheet, but a few quick notes: You can see that from all the white space that the system does not contain a lot of detail (although admittedly this is a low-level “pulp hero,” about as basic as it gets). It was easy for me to grasp the character creation process, what trade-off choices I was making, and how to build what was in my mind’s eye, even only reading through the book once. Start to finish, Evlyn took me about fifteen minutes to make.

Interestingly, there isn’t anything particularly “fantasy” about Evlyn when looking at the sheet, though I had a fantasy trope in mind when building her—namely, the bookish scholar pulled unwittingly into danger. What’s heartening is that, although she’s meant to be a scholarly and investigative character, Evlyn is still useful in combat. As far as I can tell, in fact, there’s no such thing as a “useless in combat” Supers! RED character because of the open-to-interpretation nature of the Aptitudes and Powers, and the flexibility to attack or defend with anything on your sheet that has a d6 value as long as you can explain it.

Why Supers! RED Works For Me

As the above section illustrates, Supers! RED is an incredibly flexible system, grounded in creatively explaining how the few words and dice-value on a character sheet interact. Falling off a building? I’ll use my Ice Powers as a defense, creating a frozen slide to keep me safe. Someone’s throwing knives at me and hits? The damage is to my Composure, because they didn’t physically hit me but now I’m freaking out. I’m attacking a group of 2D mooks, doing 1D damage? I land on one of them, then spin a kick, sending a second one into a third, cutting my number of foes in half before they can blink. All the rules in Supers! RED are ways of increasing or decreasing the number of d6 used, and the effect adds or subtracts from the available d6s next time. It’s elegant and open to whatever interpretation works in your game. As a result, it’s a system that can basically work in any genre, all with a 168-page rulebook and nothing else. For a genre mash-up game, that’s a boon. In fact, I took glee in a Reddit comment from a player that said they’d played a multi-year Supers! RED fantasy, sword-and-sorcery campaign without superheroes.

Speaking of campaigns, I love the game’s clear scaling of power levels. Pulp heroes are 10-15D total in value, all the way up to cosmic legends of 50D value. I can imagine starting my PCs at 12D characters like Evlyn, awarding them Competency Dice each milestone or adventure, and letting them spend those Dice to improve their Resistances/Aptitudes/Powers, purchase Boosts/Advantages/Powers, or reduce Complications once they’d hit 15D, and then every 5D after that. After only eight “level” jumps, the PCs would have moved from barely enhanced humans like Evlyn above to a true cosmic demigod. This is exactly the sort of power jump that I consider a core part of the game I run next.

Because of the sparse, easy-to-understand system, making NPCs on the fly or improvising situations appears absurdly easy. The deeper I went into the rulebook, the more I thought that I could convert any adventure in any game system into Supers! RED without hassle. For a GM, the game is silly-easy to prep and requires simply the ability to translate situations into appropriately sized d6 pools. Oh, there’s a wildfire? That’s a 3D hazard. Twenty lizard men come pouring out of a fissure in the earth? Let’s call those two 2D groups of mooks, oh and let’s say they have a leader who’s a bruising 3D henchman leader. The simplicity of Supers! RED keeps the focus on vivid description and away from rules lawyering.

My Supers! RED Hesitations

I have one big worry about Supers! RED and three smaller ones. My largest hesitation is probably obvious: The system may be too lightweight to be satisfying. Making Evlyn’s character sheet was easy. Staring at it, though, it’s difficult to find inspiration for creativity. She has four Aptitudes and one Power… those five values must literally explain every single action she makes, adventure after adventure, until she levels up and adds 1-2 more (and that assumes that I add Aptitudes or Powers instead of solely increasing the value of those she already has). Will I get bored describing enemy after enemy in similarly restrained ways? Is a 3D fire elemental going to feel different enough from a 3D gang of skeletons to be interesting? The strength of Supers! RED is its open-to-interpretation, narrative focus, but I’m looking for something that gives me a feeling of tension and exhilaration when I roll the dice. I’m worried that I may not be giving myself enough narrative tools to enhance my writing versus simply, you know… writing.

I’ll cover my other three gripes quickly because they’re all minor. First, Supers! RED has very little support as a game system. There are no player or GM forums, there’s no module on Foundry VTT or any other virtual tabletop, and few supplemental books exist by Hazard Studios or other third parties. That’s fine, but I often mine forums and supplements for inspiration, ask questions of fellow GMs, and use the VTT to immerse myself in the game experience. None of that is possible here.

Second, I’m surprised to find that the lack of randomness–both in character creation and game play–is an unwelcome shock after playing so much Dungeon Crawl Classics (which is famous for how laden it is with random tables). There’s a random character creation variant process at the back of the rulebook, but it doesn’t really work for me and honestly feels a little half-baked. Thinking about it, I would probably make random characters in a different system, then quickly translate them into Supers! RED. That’s a fine workaround, I suppose, but strikes me as pretty silly if I’m going through all of this trouble to pick my game system of choice.

Finally, as someone who almost became a comic book artist after college, I’m utterly uninspired by the artwork in Supers! RED. I feel terrible saying it out loud, because I know how difficult good artwork is. A real joy about PF2E, however, is the rampant Wayne Reynolds art. DCC is famous for its old-school approach, led by Doug Kovacs. Heck, Johan Egerkranz is almost the entire reason that I bought physical copies of Dragonbane and Vaesen. For me, the art in a game is best when it sets my mind on fire with possibilities, wanting to lose myself in the world. Any superhero game is trying to attract comic books fans, which is a visual medium defined by its artists, so I’m a little baffled when supers TTRPGs get this wrong. With Supers! RED, I’m distracted by how little I enjoy looking at the book. Add to “the art problem” the lower quality paper and print from my print-on-demand copy of the rulebook, and I find the sensory experience of the game frustratingly poor. I am looking past a lot of blech to see the possibilities in this game.

Are any of these last three reasons enough to ditch Supers! RED as my chosen game? Absolutely not. It’s the lightweight gameplay that’s the primary worry. But since I have seven more systems (unless I continue to find more… lord help me) to consider, I suppose that everything is a factor. Speaking of which…

One Game to Rule Them All

I have a feeling that, at the end of this assessment process, I will have a pile of games that weren’t exactly right for my current project but that I desperately want to take for a test spin. In future installments, I’ll take the time to rank each system here. The game at the top will be the one I choose to solo-play next, but a handy ranked list will help kickstart me next time, if there is a next time. For now, though, I’ve only done one full exploration, so this section is as sparse as it gets:

Top Contender: Supers! RED

Next time: The exploration continues! If you have thoughts about this system or others I should add to my pile, I’m all ears!

Choosing a Supers System, Part 3

Choosing a Supers System, Part 1: What I’m Not Playing

On By MagicJMSIn Age of Wonders, Superhero Gaming, Tabletop Roleplaying15 Comments

It has been great fun over the past six months playing Dungeon Crawl Classics solo, documenting my sessions as both a game log and fantasy fiction (if somehow this sentence is news to you, start the dozens of installments here!). I’ve learned a ton from this experience, not only about DCC and solo play, but how I might relaunch a similar series using a superhero TTRPG (which, as I’ve said, is my first love) in an entirely weird homebrewed setting, operating without the safety net of published material. That’s right: Today I officially switch gears.

I’m not done with DCC, not by a long shot. But I’ve had a story idea niggling in my head since before the pandemic, and the past year’s posts have provided clarity on how I might explore it. What I had originally conceived as a series of science-fantasy/superhero mash-up novellas works better, I think, as serial fiction, and solo play keeps the project energizing for me. So, at least for now, I’m planning to move my DCC love into GMing an online campaign for a group of players while simultaneously turning my solo-play/fiction energy towards my brain-worm of an idea.

I, uh… own a lot of games, superhero and otherwise. Indeed, collecting superhero TTRPGs has been a hobby of mine, and I’ve even tried to document every superhero game ever published (this list is neither current nor comprehensive… I get bursts of energy to update it a couple of times a year). For me, then, one of the most profound questions to answer is: What the heck game system do I use for my solo play?!

This decision is a weighty one. At any point in time, of course, I can switch game systems in the background without messing up the story (and might even want to do so from time to time). What I believe deeply, though, is that the underlying system fuels the narrative, and will either work with or against me when I’m writing. Besides, I’m choosing which game I’m going to dedicate months, if not years, of my life to playing. Do I pick something already familiar to me or something brand new? Do I go rules heavy or rules light? Do I reskin a game built with a strong setting or choose a system that’s inherently setting agnostic? Etc. etc. etc. These questions feel almost overwhelming. Scanning my bookshelves and PDF libraries, I’m paralyzed by choice.

As a result, I’m going to dedicate multiple posts to sorting out my thinking on this topic. Settle in, boys and girls, because the next several weeks are going to entail a lot of TTRPG navel-gazing. By the end of this first series, though, I’ll have selected a game system and be ready to dive into the setting and character creation.

First, a note about the story I want to tell: It’s a post-apocalyptic Earth that has become, with the fall of modern civilization, a feudal, fantasy-like setting where humans face off against monsters. No one remembers the world as it was. Suddenly a set of superpowered people—think comic book powers layered onto fantasy archetypes—emerge. What is the origin of these strange abilities? What do these powerful beings herald for the world? Can they save humanity? You get the idea.

My oddball requirements for this project are:

  • A superhero game that can be played in a fantasy setting, plus allow for anachronistic weapons and technology. Basically, the superpowers and fantasy elements need to be satisfying, but allow for other genre shenanigans.
  • Is neither too crunchy (if I’m consulting forums or rulebooks more often than writing, that’s bad) nor too lightweight (I need to feel like the dice are guiding the story and enhancing the narrative). I want to feel like the mechanics support the story.
  • Level-up jumps in power. My idea is that the PCs start as “street level” heroes and become demigods as the story progresses. Something will be pushing them closer to godhood, which is a core part of the story. The game should not only allow for those different levels but be fun to play at all of them.
  • No hard-wired comics tropes (like secret identities, costumes, etc.). The story will be a genre mash-up, so I can’t hew too closely to any overly specific formulas.

To help bring my unique story to life, today let’s talk about the systems that I am not considering, even though this list represents many of the most popular games in the superhero TTRPG genre, past and present. Heck, a lot of these games are true favorites of mine, and some represent literal years of memories. For one reason or another, however, each doesn’t sound quite right for this specific project.

The OGs

Villains & Vigilantes was my first superhero game, and something I played through middle school and high school. I was immediately enthralled by the art of Jeff Dee and Bill Willingham, which would become constant inspirations for my own drawing. My first time playing in a long campaign of any kind was a wild V&V series of adventures GMed by dear friend Ted. At one point in that campaign, our group of heroes entered an alternate dimension, and, upon exiting, each PC’s power set and appearance completely changed, permanently altering our heroic identities. It blew my mind how satisfying sticking with the same character over long story arcs could be, and how gonzo wild superhero tales can become.

Why not take V&V for a nostalgic spin, then? The revised edition of the original rules, which is what I played during those years, is a product of the early 1980’s and, truly, does not hold up well in terms of creating satisfying characters, simulating comics action, or telling deeply narrative stories. On the other hand, after a lengthy legal battle, Jeff Dee and Jack Herman finally released a more modern, updated game in 2017, called Mighty Protectors. This third-edition of the game, which I own but have never played, has an old-school vibe but seems to, based on many positive reviews, hold up well under today’s modern scrutiny. Which is all to say that I’m tempted. For this project, however, I worry about all three of my requirements above. It seems like work to make the system into a fantasy world, character creation is gradual and incremental, and some Disadvantages are hardwired into tropes. As a result, I’ll save Mighty Protectors for a future project.

A special, side-note shout-out to Longshot City, a delightful superhero hack of the very-weird Troika! system. Longshot City, to me, has an even better V&V vibe than Mighty Protectors, and is something I would immediately be comfortable playing solo. It also, however, suffers from all the same issues in terms of fit for this project. Making characters is a hoot, though. I recommend checking out this game.

The single superhero game I played for the most years of my life, the one that unseated V&V and became my obsession through college, graduate school, and beyond, was Champions. Indeed, the first long campaign I ever GMed was with Champions 4th edition, with the sweet George Perez cover. I also still own the 3rd, 5th, and 6th editions of the game, the latter of which is the current edition and has its own fantasy supplements. Champions introduced “point buy” systems for superhero character creation. The rulebook is an absolute tome, with a mathematical, balanced answer to creating any superpower or character concept possible, and it’s a system I know back to front. In addition, because it’s all based on points budget, my “level up requirement” is easy to handle in Champions; if I want a jump in power, I just need to, for example, add 50 points at story milestones.

It is equally tempting to dip back into the nostalgia lake of Champions. But, and I say this with great affection, the HERO System is work, man. Creating characters—heroes or NPCs—can take hours of tinkering, and combat can be equally persnickety. I’d like the system to be in the background for this project, not the primary time commitment. I’ve loved putting in the math-miles in the past, but not this time. For all of these same reasons, I am also not considering GURPS Supers, which is a point-buy generic system that I’m sure at least one person thinks I’m stupid for not using. GURPS is really, really, really flexible as a system, but if I wanted to use something generic here that’s based on balanced, simulationist math, it would be the HERO System, which I know far better.

One of the original superhero games that still has a surprisingly cult-like following is the original Marvel Superheroes, which pioneered the famous FASERIP system. I own the original yellow boxed set in 1984, and the advanced set released a year later. Marvel Superheroes has a terrifically narrative approach (especially for its time) and can be a lot of fun to play. The game never really captured my imagination for creating new heroes, though, and I find it’s better suited to a “I want to play Wolverine and fight Deadpool” sort of game experience than a homebrewed world with novel characters. It’s important to nod my cap at FASERIP, but it’s not my system of choice.

I’m more tempted by the most recent Marvel game, the Marvel Multiverse RPG. I like that it’s actively supported by Marvel and still pumping out sourcebooks. I also know that the Glass Cannon Podcast crew love it. The more I’ve read about Marvel Multiverse, though, the more detractors I find, suggesting it has some real balance issues, that some character concepts are currently impossible to realize, and that there is less of a focus on character advancement. Even more, the game and setting are deeply interwoven, so it seems difficult to use for a non-Marvel game, and, especially, a fantasy setting. I’ll also not be delving into the other Marvel (or DC, for that matter) games from over the years.

Another nostalgic favorite of mine that is oh-so-tempting is Golden Heroes. I’ve written a deep dive look at Golden Heroes, so I won’t rehash it here. Suffice it to say, I’ve spent a long time thumbing through my copy of Squadron UK (its more modern successor), wondering if this project might be the time to bust it out. Good sense tells me, though, that the fun of Golden Heroes has always been rolling up characters, not so much the gameplay.

The People’s Favorites

The game many, many people consider the granddaddy of superhero TTRPGs is Mutants & Masterminds. With over twenty years of updates, supplements, and support, the M&M community and resources are vast. At its core, Mutants & Masterminds is a d20 system recognizable to fans of Dungeons & Dragons, but it is a game uniquely its own, and specifically designed to tell superhero stories. For years and years, I had a Hero Lab account for the sole purpose of making M&M characters in my spare time, even when I never had a group with which to play them. Character creation here is also a point-buy system, and it has so many options that pretty much any idea is possible.

Although making characters (PCs or NPCs) in M&M is not quite as time-consuming and intense as in Champions, it’s still significant, tinkering work. It also has d20 baggage from D&D 3E that I don’t love, including the restrictive action economy that doesn’t, in my opinion, simulate the cinematic, superpowered battles that are the stuff of my daydreams. For all these reasons, I enjoy making characters in M&M more than playing it. The staying power and popularity are nothing to sneeze at, though. Mutants & Masterminds deserves its flowers and would be easy, because of its adjacency to D&D, to use in my homebrewed setting.

The only game I hear talked about more than M&M is Masks, a Powered by the Apocalypse game meant to simulate and capture the spirit of teen superhero drama. Gone are the fiddly, crunchy bits in all the games above in favor of pure, thematic, storytelling gusto. Masks was somewhat of a revelation for many people, able to tell stories that superhero games to that point had struggled to tell. Unfortunately, like most PbtA games, Masks fits a very specific niche in terms of genre and is thus mostly unable to tell stories other than teen superhero drama. Since I want my tale to be broader than that, I’m skipping this system.

A quick sidenote that Worlds in Peril attempts to broaden PbtA into more general superhero tales, but I haven’t been super interested in that game. The creators eventually adapted it into a game I really like, though. Speaking of which…

Close, But No Cigar

So, Worlds of Peril begat a really intriguing game in a different system, Galaxies in Peril. I absolutely love Blades in the Dark’s mechanics, but (and I know these are both controversial statements) the setting of Doskvol turns me off, and I have zero interest in playing scoundrels. As a result, I often keep an eye on Forged in the Dark games that have different settings or flavor. The idea of a supers FotD game was immediately appealing, and I’ve devoured the Galaxies in Peril book cover to cover twice. There is a procedural element to the mechanics that would make for excellent serial storytelling, and it’s fundamentally a system that focuses on the meatiest part of adventure tales, with a fun narrative way of interpreting die rolls. For a long time, when I envisioned playing games in my homebrewed setting, I assumed that I would use Galaxies in Peril.

Unfortunately, the more I’ve considered the reality of using this game, the more I realize that the city that replaced Doskvol in Galaxies in Peril is highly specific, and not at all conducive to classic fantasy. To make it work, I would essentially have to create my own city, with my own factions. I ultimately might end up doing exactly that, but having to do it all as prework is daunting. I’d still love to play Galaxies in a longform campaign, but like many games in today’s post, I get the sense that it’s most fun right out of the box, embracing the baked-in setting.

When people ask me for my favorite superhero game, my current answer is Sentinel Comics RPG. Sentinel Comics does so many cool things that other games don’t that it blew my mind when I first played it. Character creation is semi-random and yet creates wholly satisfying PCs. Combat, with its innovative, timed Green-Yellow-Red mechanic, is epic and fast-paced. The environment is an actual NPC in combat, with its own moves that change any scene cinematically. Game sessions are called “Issues,” and there are story milestones once you’ve created a “Trade Paperback” worth. So cool! Running it as a GM is a joy. Everything about Sentinel Comics is just so fun. And yes, the game takes place in its own “Sentinel Comics” universe, which is four-color, bright-and-shiny in theme. But there’s nothing about the setting that is hardwired into the mechanics, and it’s an easy system to reskin.

The fatal flaw of Sentinel Comics, at least for my purposes, is that it has basically no level-up advancement at all. This omission makes some sense, since comic book characters over time rarely get more powerful… they just change. Sentinel Comics assumes that the fun is seeing those changes in characters without obvious jumps in power, sort of like my high school game with Ted. It’s a system that very much mimics the experience of comic books at every turn.

I’ve thought long and hard about whether I could make Sentinel Comics RPG work for this project, and I just don’t think it’s fit for this particular purpose. Alas. If you haven’t heard of the game and love superhero stories, though, I can’t recommend buying it highly enough.

Another modern system that has sorely tempted me is City of Mist. The basic conceit of City of Mist is that each PC is an avatar of mythos that sits just beyond human perception. PCs can be embodiments of Thor, or Little Red Riding Hood, or the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, or whatever. Pretty much anything goes in City of Mist, both in terms of character concept and powers. Thanks to its Fate-like system, playing the game is less about measurable stats and more about thematic “tags,” qualitative descriptions attached to characters. If you can argue for why a tag works in a situation, you get a bonus to your 2d6 roll (and, like PbtA, every roll is a 2d6 roll and considered a “move”).

Thematically, there is a lot about the game that works well with my homebrewed concept. If I replace the modern city with a fantasy world, the same toggling between “Logos” and “Mythos” is not only possible, but something that I want to actively explore in my story. The lack of crunchy mechanics means that fighting with swords or eyebeams is irrelevant, and though City of Mist, like Sentinel Comics RPG, doesn’t have an “advancement” mechanic per se, changing the thematic tags does fundamentally shift characters in ways that can feel like growth. A lot fits here.

I’ve consumed a ton of City of Mist reviews, listened to interviews of the creator and actual-play podcasts, and read the books cover-to-cover. What I’ve come to understand is that a) the system is extremely narrative, open-ended, and feels unlike most other TTRPGs, and b) the quality of gameplay is highly dependent upon (as with many narrative games) the skill of the GM and trust of the players. What I cannot for the life of me figure out is whether City of Mist would be terrible for solo play. It seems like much of the richness of the game lies in the collaborative storytelling mojo between people, so my fear is that during solo play it would feel sort of, I don’t know… rule-less. Which is all to say that City of Mist intrigues the heck out of me, but I want to play it with a group before committing to it solo. Champions is too much crunch. City of Mist, I’m afraid, might be too little.

Speaking of too little crunch, I like that we have so many “rules light” superhero games like Tiny Supers and BASH, but I likely need more heft. I’ll be trying out some light-rules systems in upcoming installments, but these feel a bit too light.

A game that I originally placed into Part 2 of this exploration is Scion. On the surface, Scion has a ton of features that feel exactly like what I need for this project: Like City of Mist, it’s a game about humans becoming inhabited by myths. There are clear jumps in power levels that are both story-driven and tied to mechanics, and each power level has its own book associated with it: Origin, Hero, Demigod, and God. The Storypath System seems cool and a huge improvement on the first edition of the game, with the right balance of dice-rolling and narrative focus. From everything I’ve read, combat is fast-paced and fun.

I ultimately decided to shelve Scion for two reasons. First, like City of Mist, the idea of urban fantasy feels hardwired into the game. The specific gods in Scion are tweak-able, but the game expects that you’re playing off the major pantheons and mythos, whereas I’m planning to create my own divine forces. Would it be possible to replace their detailed explanation of cosmology with something homebrewed, and replace the modern aspects of the setting with traditional fantasy? Maybe, but I feel a little lost at the full scope of implications. Which leads me to my second reason for not using Scion: I don’t know if it’s the way Onyx Path writes its books, but I’ve read through Scion: Origin a handful of times, and I just don’t “get” it. I’ve read tons of TTRPG rulesets and supplements, and there is something oddly impenetrable to me about the way the game is showcased. It’s a beautiful book and I absolutely love the concept (American Gods is one of my all-time favorite novels), but my eyes glaze over every time. If I’m not grokking the rules the first several reads, tweaking it right out of the box feels nigh impossible. Like City of Mist, I need to play Scion with a group before going solo.

Finally, it’s worth briefly touching on other popular systems that I’m not considering for this project:

  • There isn’t another game like Spectaculars, and I would looooove to play with a regular in-person group. At its heart, Spectaculars is a journaling game that invites a group to spontaneously and organically create the world as you go. Innovative. Cool. I really hope they release digital journals at some point so I can drag my online group into trying it out someday. For this project, however, the assumptions the game makes about embracing superhero tropes doesn’t fit my goals.
  • I’ve written a deep dive into Aberrant, but wow does it seem like a lot of work to fit into a custom, fantasy setting. The world of Aberrant, and by extension the whole Trinity Continuum, feels fundamental to the game design. Could I force-fit something like Trinity: Aegis to make my concept work? Like Scion and City of Mist, with a system I don’t know well, it’s too much effort.
  • Savage Worlds Super Powers Companion takes the very cool SWADE system into the world of superheroes. I like Savage Worlds, in general, and find it fun to play. It can also easily toggle between fantasy and superpowers. From everything I know about it, though, and everything I’ve read, it is far better for “pulp” stories than epic ones involving demigods. I’m going to start small in my tale, but eventually want to get big.
  • I’m intrigued by Claim the Sky, the superpowers expansion for the Cypher System. However, in reading through reviews of the Cypher System, it seems to not so much have fans and detractors as a lot of… middling. It’s a solid generic system that some people think is slightly too fiddly and others think is slightly too narrative. It’s unclear how the vastly different role the system expects GMs to take versus players would work in a solo game. Basically, I don’t have any good reason to break the seal on these books and pilot them through such a complex project as this one.
  • Just for the sake of completeness, I don’t have any interest in dusting off my old copies of Superworld, Heroes Unlimited, or Silver Age Sentinels. I didn’t really love these games when they were new (okay, I had some fun with HU), so they’re not really in the running here.

Alright, alright, enough about the pile of games that I won’t consider for this project. Next time, let’s begin a much deeper look at the SEVEN (yes, really) games that I’m currently exploring as my game system of choice. I truly don’t know which one I’ll choose at the end, but fingers crossed that all this navel gazing will help clarify my muddled thoughts.

If you have thoughts about any of the games above—including any you think I’ve prematurely ejected—please comment below. You can also feel free to guess as to what systems I am considering, if you’re a superhero game afficionado.

Until then!

Choosing a Supers System, Part 2!

Reflections: Doom of the Savage Kings

On By MagicJMSIn Dungeon Crawl Classics, Tabletop RoleplayingLeave a comment

Whew! For a fifteen-page adventure, who knew that I would somehow manage to compile over sixty thousand words over seventeen posts? I’m thrilled to have finished my first DCC module, and hoo nelly do I have thoughts to share! Today is the same “look back, look forward” sort of post as after my Portal Under the Stars experience, a chance to towel off from the story, ponder what worked and didn’t, and consider where I go from here. Spoiler alert: new journeys await.

Reflections on Level 1 Play in Dungeon Crawls Classics

Throughout the past couple of months and largely because of the fun I’m having on this project, I’ve become bolder about describing Dungeon Crawl Classics as my current favorite game, surpassing Pathfinder 2nd edition. It has the right balance between crunchy rules and narrative focus for me, and the countless random tables add to the story in delightfully unpredictable ways. It’s the best game that I’ve found that conjures the wonder and excitement of me as a kid while simultaneously incorporating modern game innovations.

You can’t spell “funnel” without “fun,” and I understand why the Level 0 murderfest funnels are so popular. Level 1, however, is when the entire core rulebook and supplements of DCC opened wide. To me, funnels are simply an added step of character creation, and an epic and important one for the game experience Joseph Goodman and the Goodman Games crew envisioned. Without bonkers spell tables, monster crits, Halfling Luck bouncing around the party, the threat of deity disfavor, intelligent magic items, and Mighty Deeds, however, the game hasn’t really started. I can’t emphasize enough how sold I am on Dungeon Crawl Classics gameplay.

Based on every account I’ve read from Judges and players, I also know that I was incredibly lucky through Doom of the Savage Kings. No PC died (though I had multiple close calls). My Cleric Erin was not disfavored by her god Shul. Hilda the Wizard experienced neither corruption nor spell backfires. No PC was put in a position of needing to burn his or her Luck down to single digits to survive. If some, or all, of these mishaps had occurred, would I still be so positive? I think so. Indeed, as I’ve gotten older and played more games, I find myself relishing the failures as much or more than the successes. They’re a chance for character development and story. If it wasn’t obvious while reading the game logs, I was quite disheartened that the Hound of Hirot didn’t put up much of a fight in any of its three battles, because I wanted challenge and peril. Which is all to say that yes, I’m aware that my plucky party experienced unusual success relative to many DCC tales, but I was both prepared for and understood the implications if the dice had rolled a different way. I expect Dungeon Crawl Classics to be a random, swingy game, and that risk is a big part of the fun.

Something else I love about the game is the lack of longform campaign storytelling. Though I’m not a big consumer of Matthew Colville’s videos (and thus don’t know more generally how aligned he and I are on other topics), I love his video on adventure length. To me, the idea of hundreds of possible “next adventures” for a party, based on what’s happened to this point, is exactly how I want to run my games. I’m a big fan of Paizo’s Adventure Paths, and have GMed a group of players through all six books of Age of Ashes over three years. It was a hoot. More and more, though, I find that I’m happy to be a player in an AP, but I don’t think that I want to run one again. I’d like the story arcs to be more emergent, for the epic quest at the end of a campaign to be the result of the dozen decisions the party has made to that point. The fact that so few longform stories exist for DCC is, for me, an exciting feature of its overall approach, and hugely satisfying.

Quick sidenote: Since beginning this project, I’ve run a group of players through a funnel (we played Hole in the Sky, which embraces the weirdness possible in DCC). What I realized from that experience is that the “hey, we’re just going to build the world as we go” can throw players off, especially ones coming from D&D or Pathfinder, where the setting is so deeply detailed. If I Judge a longer campaign (which is, ultimately, my goal), I will start with a Session 0 aimed at fleshing out basic details of the world (I’ve been playing Ironsworn with my friend Rob, and there are great tools there I’d steal for this sort of foundation), and creating our gaggle of peasants. Session 1 and 2 would be the funnel experience and leveling up their surviving PCs, and then we’d start the campaign in earnest with Session 3. Grounding the players from the beginning in a few basics plus giving them time to think a bit about their peasants before the Funnel experience would, I expect, provide a great campaign launchpad. The group I Judged is eager to play a Level 1 adventure, though, so I may have added a few DCC converts to the community.

That said, it’s not a perfect game. I have two primary complaints about Dungeon Crawl Classics now that I’ve played it for dozens and dozens of hours up to Level 2, and these complaints are related. First, I don’t know what the Goodman Games folk had against fantasy religions when designing the game, but Clerics got short shrift in the original core rulebook. Wizards and Warriors are the splashy classes in DCC, and what I hear people promote when convincing others to try out the game. Clerics, for whatever reason, feel like they received a tenth of the attention and writing. Worshipping one deity over another has no mechanical difference for a PC, whereas different Patrons dramatically change gameplay. The different gods and goddesses are described in a single page, with no flavor at all. Moreover, the more I create my own campaign world in DCC, describing the difference between deities and the otherworldly entities who are patrons is nearly impossible. In a nutshell: The entire system underlying Clerics and divine power feels underbaked in the game, and decidedly un-DCC-like.

Thankfully, some of my frustration is addressed in the one (and only, as far as I can tell) DCC Annual. Here, a handful of major deities receive write-ups detailing their background and beliefs. Each has special traits provided to Clerics, an individual Disapproval table, and thoughts about Divine Favors specific to that deity. The Annual introduces the ideal of “Canticles,” spells specific to a particular god. Clerics of the Known Realm is a free (!) supplement that took these features and applied them to the remaining deities listed in the core rulebook, which is awesome. And, as you know from Erin’s level-up post, I also found terrific inspiration from the Knights in the North (also free!). Add these three sources together, and I have the tools I need to make Clerics as satisfying and interesting as Wizards. The requirement to do so, however, leads to my second complaint…

The DCC community is amazing and pretty much everyone agrees it’s one of the best things about playing Dungeon Crawls Classics. Enthusiastic evangelists of the game create adventures, new patrons and deities, spells, magic items, classes, optional rules, settings, and on and on. Zines containing all the above are ubiquitous, as are third-party websites and blogs like Knights in the North. Goodman Games promotes or sells these supplements on their website and promotes them in its weekly newsletter. It’s clear that Joseph Goodman has made a conscious decision to allow a thousand wildflowers to bloom, with no attempt whatsoever to cultivate the DCC garden. You can, as a Judge, find anything you need to enhance your game, answer your questions, or fill in the gaps of your campaign.

So what’s the complaint? Well, after more than a dozen years, there are a lot of wildflowers. As someone new to the game, it’s overwhelming. I dipped my toe into a third-party class for Briene and had to decide for myself between three different Ranger classes. I’ve found several websites listing all the materials available for DCC, but none of them are comprehensive or up to date, so even finding my options takes significant work. I would LOVE for Goodman Games to provide compilations of some of these resources to help me. I would throw money at them for a compiled, edited book of Patrons, or Classes, or Spells. For example, take the material from Angels, Daemons and Beings Between Volumes I & II, add in all Patron write-ups from individual adventures and Gongfarmer’s Almanacs—Provide the most definitive book of Patrons you can provide over the past decade, please! Give me more Tomes that I can flip through to find inspiration rather than dozens of small booklets, some of which overwrite or build on each other in ways that aren’t obvious to me.

Unfortunately, I’m shouting into the void on this one, because I believe the dizzying pile of options is exactly what DCC enthusiasts want, and they celebrate the haphazard, “small press” approach to providing them. I want a map. The fact that this help is never coming is disheartening, and honestly diminishes my enthusiasm to keep delving deeper and deeper into the third-party mountain of options, discovering for myself where the gems are hidden.

In summary: I love Dungeon Crawl Classics. Playing it is incredibly fun. The Cleric class from the core rulebook needs some love to make it as satisfying as other classes, and I find it tedious to discover the many, many supplements to enhance my game. All of that said, I am looking forward to more DCC in my future.

Reflections on the module Doom of the Savage Kings

Doom of the Savage Kings is a beloved module from DCC’s early days, and it deserves adoration. Harley Stroh, one of the game’s more prolific and accomplished creators, clearly decided to transform Beowulf into a sword and sorcery adventure, and perhaps those mythical, narrative roots are part of what make it so satisfying. Gone are some of the bonkers, gonzo features of many DCC adventures that take you into different timelines and alien worlds, battling divine entities with uncontrollable items of power. Instead, Doom is a grounded story about helping a village full of color and depth with its monster problem. It’s great, and an adventure that I would happily run again for a group of players.

As with all DCC adventures, Doom contains several unexplained lore bits that can either be woven with parts of your campaign or lead to future adventures. What happened to Ulfheonar long ago and who were the Savage Kings? What’s with the “wolf versus snake” themes? How did the Hound come to be? What were those skulls on stakes in the Sunken Fens? What’s up with Ymae’s transformation? Etc. etc. Connecting these bits to Portal Under the Stars was fun and surprisingly easy to do. Both Graymoor and Hirot have standing stones and monuments to ancient warlords, so there is some internal consistency to say that these elements are related in the world’s history. I decided that the area surrounding the party was once a place of powerful and warring feudal Savage Kings, each with an animal motif and each playing with powers beyond their understanding in an ever-escalating attempt to defeat their rivals. I haven’t puzzled out how Ymae fits into the narrative, but if the party is ever exposed to Faerie (or Elf Land, or the First World, or whatever), I’m confident that there will be an opportunity to hook into something meaningful. Which is all to say that I’m enjoying the emergent worldbuilding inherent in DCC and appreciate how Doom helped flesh out some of the early seeds from Portal in my mind.

The part of the adventure mechanically that I find myself returning to again and again is the collapsing room hazard within Ulfheonar’s tomb. I haven’t before or since seen a trap work by ticking actions off specific initiative values, pushing players lower in initiative (and thus more dire threats) if they fail rolls. It’s cinematic and tense, with high stakes, and something I will definitely be looking to recreate in future games. In many ways, it’s the first time I’ve seen a hazard capture the “environment as actor” mechanic from Sentinel Comics RPG that I love so much. Bravo, Haley Stroh!

My biggest complaint around the module is how ultimately nonthreatening the Hound of Hirot was for the party. The PCs rolled well in the first encounter and had prepared well for the last encounter, but all three times I never felt the threat of a “final boss.” I like that the Hound’s stats are weaker at the beginning and beefier in its lair for the climactic battle, but either I missed a key part of the creature entry or the swinginess of DCC combat worked in my favor multiple times. Whatever the reason, the Hound felt like a chump. Meanwhile, the random encounter of the swamp jackals almost wiped out my fully rested and capable party. Heck, the tomb ghouls had me more on the edge of my seat than the Hound, and the biggest threat in the module was Iraco and his ambush. I’m beginning to form a theory that, in a game without balanced math and more randomness, a high number of enemies is far deadlier than a single enemy. Whether I’m correct or not, if I run Doom of the Savage Kings again, I will change the Hound’s stats, adding something (damage resistance, a howl that frightens all enemies who fail a save, etc.) that creates a bigger “holy shit we’re in trouble” feeling.

For solo play, the most challenging part of running Doom was the investigative chapter of Hirot. It’s a part of the adventure that I can vividly envision playing with a group, seeing how the players bounce off the various factions and interdependencies. For solo play, however, I experienced a moment of realization that I could write dozens and dozens of pages over multiple chapters without ever rolling a die, and I had trouble puzzling through how an investigation should work when I’m the only one at the table. I muddled through that bit in ways that hopefully worked, but in the future I’ll probably steer away from adventures with too many political, social, or investigative themes (which is a shame, since I love playing and running these sorts of adventures in groups).

Speaking of solo play…

Reflections on Solo-Play/Fiction

Adding my Portal and Doom blog entries together, I’ve written about 85,000 words for this project. A generally accepted minimum length for a novel is 90k words, to put that number in perspective. What’s particularly startling is that I began this project on May 26, 2024, almost exactly five months ago. Assuming I could keep up this pace, that means I’m roughly writing two novels a year worth of content. That’s amazing, and possibly the most prolific I’ve been on any single project (when I wrote my novel Birthright many moons ago, the first draft took me seven months). My undeniable conclusion is that this project has been a writing success.

The combo of solo-play and fiction also works for me. My strong sense is that if I focused on solo play without the blog, it would feel like a lonely and self-indulgent pursuit. It’s a funny distinction, since I only have two people consistently liking these posts (huge, fist-pumping shouts of gratitude for Rocket Cat and Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha (i.e. Kent Wayne)! They’re both awesomesauce, and you should check out their blogs and Kent’s novels). Apparently, though, having even a small audience is enough to help me fight through fatigue or malaise each week. I have never, on any writing project, regretted the hours spent tapping my keyboard, but I have often found excuses to not sit in front of my laptop in the first place. Publishing my solo play as public fiction is a terrific catalyst for continuing to write.

If I have a criticism of my process so far, it’s that, for whatever reason, my characters in this project are flat. I can’t tell why, exactly, but some theories I’ve kicked around are: a) perhaps the “disposable PCs” nature of the funnel and overall deadliness of DCC has kept me from investing too much in each character, b) six PCs is too many to juggle–especially for a system that expects them to stay bunched as a group–and for me the ideal number is probably somewhere in the 3-4 range, c) the emergent worldbuilding is distracting me from focusing on character depth, or d) my characters have always been flat, and I’m just noticing it now. Since I’m finding the gameplay of DCC so rich, the flat characters are particularly perplexing, and it’s something I am committed to addressing in the future. Whatever the case, it’s something I’m grateful to have realized on my own (my wife Sarah is usually my first reader, but given my pace on this blog I’ve been flying solo).  

What’s Next?

After Portal, I focused on two writing streams simultaneously: Continuing the tale of my four surviving PCs and compiling my various blog posts into a coherent piece of fiction without the game-log portions. This time, I’m doing neither.

Whaaa-aa-aat?

While I would love to see what a fiction-only, polished version of Doom of the Savage Kings would be like, it’s simply too many pages and too complex a narrative to edit without major effort. The juice isn’t worth the squeeze for me; a Doom rewrite feels like an energy drain rather than something that brings me energy. Since this blog is a hobby, there’s no reason to spend time on something that feels overwhelming. I want to keep experimenting and building on this new formula without getting too bogged down in polishing. I do think that editing and rewriting is an important and often overlooked part of being a published author, but being a published author isn’t really my aim here. Heh… Those last four sentences basically all said the same thing.

Now that I’m more confident in solo play, there are a ton of other games staring at me from the bookshelf. At the same time, I’ve been interested in poking at my own adventures and setting, circling back to a few ideas that have plagued my thoughts over the past many years instead of relying on published supplements. Combining these two instincts, I’m going to change this solo-play-plus-fiction-blog experiment into a laboratory for other games and other ideas. I still want to continue down my Dungeon Crawls Classics rabbit hole, but with a group of players rather than solo.

There are two possible scenarios in my mind: In one scenario, I have a vibrant, longform campaign of DCC running, either online or in person. Because DCC is relatively easy to prep, I also have the creative energy to continue with my blog, where I’m testing out new games and adventure ideas, enriching both my TTRPG life and honing my writing skills. In this scenario, maybe I even find a new favorite game and start the flywheel all over again, launching another campaign with friends and exploring new games on my own.

In the second scenario, I return to this moment. Maybe I fail to get a group campaign off the ground, or I find that DCC is uniquely suited to my solo play blog, or maybe I just miss this story and these characters. In this scenario, I revive Umur, Erin, Haffoot, Hilda, Joane, and Briene, picking up where I left off and launching them straight into a Level 2 adventure. Heck, I could even see starting over with a new Funnel and a new cast of peasants, focusing my writing on characters who are (hopefully) deep and vibrant.

In either scenario: 1) I’m committed to continuing with Dungeon Crawl Classics, either with a group or back here, and 2) my creative energy is pulling me into different places right now. I’m slightly ambivalent about this choice, because I’ve been having a ton of fun and writing at a feverish pace. There’s a worry that I’ll somehow mess up my mojo, resulting in neither ongoing gaming nor writing.

But even as I type that worry, I smile and shake my head. Nah. I can always come back and would be happy to do so. As I wade into my fifties, it’s becoming easier to make decisions out of a place of joy and contentment than out of fear. Let’s try something new and see what happens!

If you have thoughts on anything I’ve written here, either DCC, this specific story, or where I go next, I’m all ears. For now, get hyped about pivoting into a new direction, starting next week and going until… well, until my fickle muse pulls me down a different path.

Here’s to more playing and writing!

-jms

Doom of the Savage Kings, Chapter 15

On By MagicJMSIn Dungeon Crawl Classics, Tabletop Roleplaying2 Comments

“Well, this is awkward, isn’t it?” Haffoot sighed and scuffed the toe of her boot into the patchy dirt. The sun had climbed above the tree line, within a dome of clear blue sky. It was a glorious late summer day, full of warmth and birdsong, that banished any sense of the coming chill of autumn.

Yet the gates of Hirot remained closed.

“Oy! Nothan!” Joane called up angrily. “What’s the hold up, then? The Hound’s dead and gone for good! Let us in! We’ve been standing here forever with our thumbs up our asses! Hello?”

There was a long, silent pause. A bird called out particularly loudly from nearby, answered by another. Otherwise, everything was quiet and still. Umur swore softly in his native tongue. Briene whispered to Erin, who stood with her arms crossed over her white-mailed chest, frowning. Hilda, as always, leaned on her staff, back from the others, her face shrouded beneath her hood.

Finally, a youthful voice answered from the palisades wall. “Opening the gate now, Joane!”

“That’s not Nothan,” Joane murmured to her companions. “That was Caspar. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I believe we’re about to find out,” Umur rumbled. A series of thunks and clacks echoed as multiple people unbarred the gates from inside. Slowly, very slowly, the heavy, wooden gates swung open.

The Jarl was there, wearing his wolf pelt. Chainmail glinted from beneath the cloak, and he bore an enormous, bearded axe in his meaty hands. Despite his age, with a bald pate and stringy, gray strands of hair hanging to his shoulders, the Jarl was an enormous man, tall and barrel-chested. His scarred face glowered like a thundercloud as he took in the companions outside the village walls.

He was far from alone. Nothan the Younger, the sharp-faced leader of the Night Watch, stood on one side, nervous and unhappy, his lips pressed together tightly and his eyes roaming anywhere but Joane and her companions. On the Jarl’s other side stooped the robed, oily weasel, Sylle Ru. Unlike Nothan, the thin seer’s eyes glittered with a malicious glee, a gaze that hungrily roamed over the party and lingered on Briene.

Behind the trio of men were all seven of the Jarl’s thegns, brutish women and men, each armored and bearing weapons of various sizes and shapes. Their names were well known to Joane and Briene: Ofenloch, Kreig, Clohn the Bald, Ori One-Eye, Utheryl, Haedrick, and Haelf Halfson. Each was a warrior of renown in Hirot, and the Jarl’s martial might. Only now did it occur to Joane that none had ever been selected for sacrifice to the Hound, nor had any of their wives, husbands, or children. The young woman scowled at the realization that perhaps the lottery had been a sham, or at least influenced in some way to protect the Jarl’s inner circle. Knowing she had almost lost her life at the standing stones made her cheeks burn with rage.

Stretching to either side of the thegns were the few remaining members of the town watch, each dressed in yellow and green livery, and each clutching a spear. Their eyes were wide and terrified, their faces glistening with sweat. Many had been pressed into service when watch members had been sacrificed to the Hound or died trying to fight it. They were too young, too old, or too infirmed for real battle, and yet they stood with the Jarl and his thegns, seemingly ready to charge.

Finally, congregated some distance behind the Jarl’s gang of ruffians, the majority of Hirot’s remaining residents formed a large mob. The several dozen villagers gasped, pointed, and murmured when they saw Joane, Briene, and their companions. Many wept and held young ones close, shielding them from what was to come yet keeping their own eyes fixed on the proceedings.

“I told you to leave,” the Jarl raised his voice for all to hear. “Why have you returned?”

Umur glanced at the others and stepped forward, still outside the open gates. “We’ve come to inform you that the Hound is dead and gone for good. We’ve seen to it.”

A murmur ran throughout the crowd of villagers. Several thegns bent heads together to whisper.

“We ask nothing in return,” the dwarf continued. “We simply wish to resupply and repair our arms and armor before heading on our way.”

The Jarl’s face darkened. “You expect us to believe it’s dead? That you killed it?”

“Blasphemy!” Father Beacom called out from the crowd far behind. “Only Justicia’s judgment will save us!”

Umur shrugged. “Believe what you will, but the Hound will bother you and your people no more.”

The thin, rat-faced seer, Sylle Ru, tugged at the Jarl’s arm. The large man bent and listened, nodding once before straightening.

“And the death of Broegan Cayhurst? What say you there?” the Jarl’s lip curled in a sneer.

“What!?” Joane’s cheeks flushed an even deeper red. “We weren’t even here when my father died, you twit!”

Erin placed a hand on the woman’s arm, holding her from stepping forward. “What are you suggesting, sir?” Her strong voice carried over the distance.

“He dropped dead,” the Jarl made sure the villagers behind could hear. “Witnesses said he fell over mid-sentence, untouched. I’ve got no other explanation but magic, and you have a magic user in your group.”

The crowd of villagers murmured, some agreeing loudly and others scoffing. The Jarl’s face was as flat as stone, but Sylle Ru grinned maliciously and rubbed his hands together.

“You can’t be serious,” Umur groaned.

“Hand over your mage for questioning, and we’ll lock the rest of you away while we handle the Hound ourselves. Your meddling has confused too many people, and too many have died since you’ve arrived. Or do you deny that you took several of our people into the woods nearly a week ago, and none returned?”

“These people bloody saved you all!” Joane cried, and Erin tightened her grip to keep her back. “You probably poisoned my pa just to blame it on us, you monster! It was Iraco that attacked us in the woods, and you know it! Monster and fool!” Tears blurred her eyes and began spilling down her cheeks.

“Watch your tongue, girl,” the Jarl growled, his face darkening. “Or you’ll lose it.”

“Jarl,” Umur stepped forward. Joane turned to sob into Erin’s embrace. “We’ve killed the Hound and done Hirot a service. I see you’re ready for violence, and I assure you people will die if you keep pressin’ your points here. As the lass says, most who’ve died with us were to your huntsmen. Iraco and his men have paid for that, buried near the Snake King’s tomb.” At mention of Ulfheonar, more villagers murmured and cried out, and thegns whispered. A few of them looked at the spear in Joane’s hand thoughtfully.

“Stop the bloodshed, Jarl,” Umur continued. “You know we’ve done nothing wrong. We’ll leave and you can rebuild in peace. We ask for nothing from you. This is madness, man.”

Warrior to warrior, can Umur’s speech avoid violence? Or is the Jarl’s pride too great to accept that these outsiders helped him? Let’s do a Personality roll for Umur. He has a 14 Personality, for a +1 modifier. I’m going to make this a DC 10 for him to at least get the Jarl to pause and consider a non-violent solution. If he hits 15+ something very good will happen. If he gets a 5 or less, something very bad will happen.

Umur rolls a [12+1] 13! The Jarl will pause and consider the implications of a battle here.

His advisor, on the other hand, wants these troublemakers out of the way. Sylle Ru is insecure and motivated by power. He is threatened by the adventurers and will try to encourage violence. I’ll set the DC as Umur’s roll: 13.

I’ll say Sylle has no modifier (he’s smart but slimy), so this is just a straight d20 roll: 3.

Well, this will be fun…

Silence filled the next several heartbeats. Joane pulled away from Erin’s comforting arms with a nod of thanks. Briene reached out to lay a hand on Joane’s shoulder, as the red-haired young woman wiped her nose with the back of her hand while staring at the Jarl with hate-filled eyes. The other companions held their breath, waiting for the Jarl’s response. His thegns shifted their feet, seeming to do the same. Fingers on both sides idly touched weapons. Even the crowd of villagers had quieted, sensing the importance of the moment.

The Jarl exhaled, grimacing. He took one of his giant hands off the wicked axe and rubbed his face. “Gods. There has been enough bloodshed, right enough.”

Sylle Ru tugged frantically at the Jarl’s cloak, whispering and making dramatic hand gestures. The Jarl grunted something and shook his head, brushing the seer’s hand away. The robed man persisted, now urgently and angrily.

The Jarl cut him off. “Silence,” he snapped, then straightened and glowered at the companions at the gate. “Go. Take your people and leave, dwarf.”

“Good enough,” Umur nodded, and turned to the others. “Let’s first check…”

“NO!” a thin, reedy voice cut through the space between the Jarl and the companions. It was Sylle Ru, spittle foaming at his mouth. The robed man took several steps forward. He thrust a thin, knobby finger at Umur. “They are villains! Liars and thieves! Thegns, kill them now!”

Everyone could see the dark red and black energy beginning to swirl around the seer’s outstretched finger as he began chanting in an otherworldly baritone voice.

Sylle Ru, in his fury at being ignored by the Jarl, is going to try and instigate a fight anyway. I’ll roll initiative to see if the seer gets to act before the party. Everyone is ready for violence, so no surprise rounds for either side.

He rolls right in the middle of the companions. It’s Joane who wins by a mile, and she too is wound up and itching for battle. Seeing the seer be aggressive, she will daringly and dramatically try to throw the wolf-spear.

Joane’s Agility gives her +1 on ranged attacks, but the wolf-spear is not meant to be a ranged weapon. As a result, I’ll cancel this bonus. Instead, Joane rolls a 2 on her Deed die, giving her a total of +3 to attack since the spear is already a +1. She rolls a [15+2+1] 18, and hits Sylle’s AC of 10 easily. Her damage is [3+2+1] 6, which is the seer’s hit point total. Sylle Ru dies before casting his spell.

How will the Jarl react to this sudden violence? I’ll roll a morale check, with a higher roll better for the party. Another 15 on the d20. What could have been an all-out, fierce battle ends before it begins. I was ready for this scene to play out in a number of different ways, but whew!

In that moment, with the Jarl, thegns, city watch, villagers, and companions stunned, only Joane moved. She took several loping steps, snarling as she moved. From between the palisades’ open gates she launched Ulfheonar’s wolf-spear through the air, her red-haired braid flailing. The legendary weapon soared through the open space.

Sylle Ru’s eyes widened and the magics crackling at his fingertip sparked and faltered. At the last second, he threw up his hands defensively. The broad head of wolf-spear struck the man’s chest with a meaty thunk! and he fell backwards. Thin hands weakly, spastically grasped for the spear’s hilt, then stilled. Sylle Ru was dead, his eyes open and frozen in fear, his mouth agape.

Joane stood panting, her face bunched in anger. Villagers cried out in horror. The thegns’ wide eyes looked from the Jarl to Joane and back again. At least half of them gripped weapons tightly, while others took a step involuntarily back.

All the while, the Jarl’s expression did not move. His thunderhead frown remained fixed as he strode forward to his seer’s corpse, tucking his great bearded axe into his belt. He looked down, sighed, then pulled the spear free. The Jarl examined the wolf-spear in his enormous hands, his eyes roaming over the ancient script and snaking patterns carved into its shaft.

The companions neither moved nor spoke. Everyone, it seemed waited to see what the leader of Hirot would do next.

His heavy gaze fell on Joane, still panting, cheeks flushed.

“It truly is Ulfheonar’s weapon? You found the Snake King’s crypt?” he said in a low, thoughtful voice only he and she could hear.

Joane swallowed hard, then nodded.

“And the Hound? It’s truly gone, then?” the Jarl raised his voice, and it was clear the Jarl addressed Umur now.

“Aye,” the dwarf said. “It’s all true.”

The man sighed and glanced down again at his seer. His words were heavy and tired. “Alright then. You have until sundown to resupply. Then leave Hirot behind.”

He dropped the wolf-spear in the dirt. Like a lumbering bear, the Jarl turned his back on the companions and faced his thegns. Joane and her companions did not hear what he said in low, commanding tones. The assemblage of warriors glanced back at the group, some with hatred on their face, some with respect, and at least one with a grin, and then, as a group, they strode through the town square, towards the crowd of villagers, the town watch members trailing behind. The mob parted before them, shouting questions, as the Jarl stopped to address his few remaining people. Though he did not realize it, the Jarl took a place next to the strongbox atop a wooden post, where he had stood every three days for weeks on end.

Sylle Ru’s thin, crumpled form lay in the dirt, untouched and untended, like a discarded doll.

Late that afternoon, Umur stood outside of the mad widow Ymae’s hut. His horned helmet was tucked under one arm, battered shield strapped to his back, and longsword at his belt. Yet he’d washed his hair and face, and he wore fresh cotton beneath his black, scaled armor. The dwarf ran his free hand through his beard, scowling furiously as he faced the door.

He grumbled, “Bloody madness. I’m leaving at sundown, never to return. What does an empty marriage do? Nothing is what it does. It’s madness.” Then he cursed in dwarven and turned to leave.

The hut’s door opened.

“Ah, you’re Hilda’s dwarf, then? Well, come here and let’s have a look at you.”

Umur turned.

In the doorway was a young human woman, pleasantly plump. Her blonde hair was tied back in an elaborate braid, wildflowers woven throughout, which hung over one shoulder. Her violet-colored dress was simple, with a belt woven with flowers, and she was barefoot. The woman’s face was cocked to one side, appraising him and grinning with deep dimples.

“I– I’m sorry, ma’am,” Umur stammered. “I was looking for Ymae. Is she home?”

The woman chuckled. “I am she and she is me. Why have you come to my hut wearing the ancient armor of a Savage King’s lieutenant, Master Dwarf?”

“I, uh…” he coughed, flustered. “I was told by Hilda that she made you a promise. For the net.”

“She did indeed. And here you are to fulfill it, eh?” The woman put a fist on one hip, which she thrust out. Umur had never found humans particularly attractive, but even without whiskers this woman was lovely.

He realized that she was waiting for him to answer with an arched eyebrow. He coughed again. “I suppose so. The… the net was most helpful against the Hound.”

“What are you here to do, Master Dwarf?” Ymae leaned forward ever-so-slightly, eagerly, on tiptoes. “Say the words.”

“Well, I… I’d heard that if the Hound was dead that you wanted a… a husband. So I’m here to marry you, I suppose.” He nodded, planting his feet firmly. “As promised.”

Ymae threw back her head and cackled with glee. She spun on the ball of one bare foot as she laughed, her dress swirling. Then the young woman was clapping her hands together, eyes glittering with delight and her white smile bright.

“Oh, well done! Well done!” she cried and leapt at Umur. The dwarf dropped his helmet into the dirt to catch her awkwardly, but Ymae managed to meld into his armored embrace with grace. She kissed him, still smiling, long and hard.

“That’s enough,” a voice hissed from the doorway. Umur blinked, confused, as Ymae pulled herself away from him and turned. He craned his neck to see past her.

Just inside the hut stood a figure of shadow and flame, its form shimmering and dancing like candlelight in a breeze. Umur’s eyes watered to look at it, this thing of darkness that was clearly not of this world.

“He’s done it!” Ymae clapped. “He needed a kiss of thanks, didn’t he? Oh, don’t be jealous, love.” She thrust out her hip again, planting a fist on it.

“What’s this now?” Umur stammered. “I don’ understand.”

Ymae sighed as she stepped back towards the doorway. Flickering hands of black flame reached out to caress her as she drew close.

“Hilda’s oath is fulfilled, Umur Pearlhammer,” the woman said, her voice full of light and joy despite intoning each word like a proclamation. As she spoke, she disappeared into shadow, both moving further into the hut and the strange figure’s embrace. “Go and find your home, though I weep for what you’ll discover. And here is your reward, though your current armor suits you. Perhaps the young Wolf Slayer can use it.”

Umur jumped as the hut door slammed shut. Just outside, folded neatly at the doorstep, was a pile of golden chainmail that glittered and gleamed in the late-afternoon sunlight like fire.

Reflections: Doom of the Savage Kings

Doom of the Savage Kings, Chapter 14

On By MagicJMSIn Dungeon Crawl Classics, Tabletop Roleplaying3 Comments

Something dribbled into Umur’s right eye from the bushy brow above. It could have been sweat, or blood, or even water from an overhanging branch. Whatever it was, he couldn’t spare the effort or time to wipe it away. The dwarf blinked furiously, shaking his head even as he swung his ancestral longsword at the furred body darting past him. He missed, and the creature was gone from sight.

“Blast these beasts!” he bellowed. “To the Nine Hells with you all!”

But behind his fury was a cold dread. There were still too many of the desperate, cunning jackals. His companions limped and bled from numerous bites and tears in their flesh. Still the creatures pressed their tactics, yipping and snarling and darting in whenever one of them turned. Blood thundered in his ears, his breath shallow. They were losing this battle, he realized with grim certainty, and there was no hope of escape.  

All around, numerous rune-marked skulls stared unseeing at them from tall stakes. Their empty sockets appeared and disappeared with the shifting fog. The macabre totems, it seemed, waited in mute witness for them to die.

Round 4 is upon us! I predicted last time that this would be the deciding round in this fight. As a reminder, Briene is still unharmed at 9 hit points. Erin is at 3 of 10 hp. Haffoot 4 of 6 hp. Hilda 7 of 14 hp. Joane 6 of 10 hp. And, clinging to life, Umur is at 1 of 10 hp. Seven of the fifteen original swamp jackals remain, and none of them are currently injured. The jackals just passed a second consecutive morale check, so they are going for the kill, sensing an impending meal.

The first jackal bites Haffoot and rolls a 14 (recall that they have a +2 to hit, but -2 from Hilda’s Invoke Patron spell) versus her AC of 13. Thankfully, the attack only does 1 point of damage, leaving her at 3 hp. The second jackal rolls a 15, surpassing Erin’s AC of 14. That attack also does 1 point of damage, leaving the cleric at 2 hp. YIKES.

Thankfully, the tide turns after that. Joane hits with her wolf-spear, rolling a 17, and does [6+2+1] 9 damage, killing one of the creatures. A jackal misses Haffoot with a 7. Haffoot returns the attack against one of the three (!) jackals near her, missing with her first sword but hitting with the second on a [15+1] 16, dealing a max 6 damage and killing it.

Briene aims her shortbow at one of the remaining jackals harassing Haffoot and rolls a natural 20! The first, I believe, critical hit of this combat for the PCs. She rolls a chest wound (+3d4 damage), and does a whopping 16 total damage. Then Hilda, who had been swinging wildly with her staff against the one jackal attacking her, finally hits with a 16. She halves the jackal’s hit points, dealing 2 damage.

A swamp jackal lunges at Umur. He has a 15 AC, though, so the law of averages suggests they’ll stop hitting him at some point, right? Nope. The jackal rolls a 15, and the damage is irrelevant since Umur had 1 hp. He goes down.

Erin sees her friend fall, and rushes to Lay on Hands. If this fails, there is a serious chance of Umur dying. She rolls a [16+1-1] 16! Because they are the same alignment, this result means that Umur will heal 3d10 damage, and I roll well. Umur is back to full health, though prone and has dropped his longsword.

The last jackal ends our round with a bang, rolling a natural 20 against Hilda. The crit says it breaks a rib, dealing an extra d6 damage. That means Hilda takes [4+4] 8 damage and also goes down.

Umur, last to go in the round, spends his turn regaining his sword and standing.

At the end of the round, it’s time for another morale check. Because only 4 swamp jackals remain, I’m going to give them a -4 to their check. They roll a [15-4] 11 and, miraculously, are still going to fight to the death.

The companions fought furiously and with desperation. Joane impaled a jackal, which unnervingly screamed in a high-pitched wail like a small girl when it died. Haffoot used her thin blade to stab another through the eye. And an arrow loosed by Briene cut through the mists and left a third dead, its body curled at the foot of one of the leaning, skull-topped stakes.

Yet among these wins, too many bites tore through pant legs and found flesh. Umur, blinking furiously, turned almost blindly as one of the swamp jackals launched itself through the air to land on his shoulder. It bit down onto his neck and the dwarf cried out, falling.

“Umur!” Erin called out. Without thinking she ran and knelt by her friend, reaching out with her free hand. Soft, white light spilled from her open palm and over Umur. His eyes fluttered open, even as the jackal that felled him snarled and lunged again with its blood-flecked teeth.

Hilda, away from the others, had been swinging her staff left and right, keeping a persistent jackal at bay. The creatures had shown a malevolent intelligence, however, and the jackal made a calculate charge immediately following one of those swings. Hilda yelped as its leap carried it through her defenses, directly onto the wizard’s chest. It snarled and bit, and Hilda shrieked as she fell.

Round 5. The first of the remaining jackals has a choice between Erin, Joane, and Umur. Since Erin is kneeling and focused on Umur, it attempts to bite her and misses with a 3.

Joane rolls a 3 with her Deed die, and stabs at the one who’d just attacked Erin. She misses with a [6+3+1] 10, but Haffoot lends her a +2 with a point of Luck, making the strike a hit. She kills the jackal and uses her Mighty Deed to force another morale roll from the remaining three jackals. Amazingly, they roll a nat-20. Dang. That was a cool use of a Mighty Deed, I thought.

The lone jackal near Haffoot misses with an 8 and she’s able to return the attack. She hits with the first blade, doing 5 damage and killing it.

It’s Briene’s turn. It doesn’t make sense that she can do medicinal, herbal healing in combat like Erin’s Lay on Hands. So instead of healing Hilda, she will call out to Erin and loose an arrow at Hilda’s opponent. She rolls a [9+1] 10, and Haffoot again supplies a +2 Luck bonus (her Luck is now 8 of 12), which means the attack hits. Six damage is more than enough to kill the jackal.

The last swamp jackal nips at Umur but misses, which allows Erin to scramble to Hilda’s side and try another Lay on Hands. As with Umur, if she fails this check it will mean a “death roll” from our wizard, and perhaps her death. Once again, Shul, God of the Moon, comes in clutch. Erin rolls a 19! Unfortunately for Hilda, because she is Neutral alignment and a wizard, she only gets 2d4 hit points back, and Erin rolls a total of 3. Still, 3 is better than 0. Hilda lives.

Umur is up, armed, and furious. He only rolls a 1 on his Deed die, but hits the last swamp jackal with a [13+1+1] 15, dealing 9 damage.

The combat is over, officially the closest we’ve gotten to multiple character deaths. Exhale.

“Erin! Help Hilda!” Briene cried out, loosing an arrow at close range into the jackal that had leapt atop the robed wizard. “She’s not moving, Erin!”

Joane roared a furious roar and stabbed another creature through the neck as Erin stumbled over to Hilda’s fallen form. Her gray eyes scanned the torn, bloody robes and murmured a prayer. Nothing happened, and she squeezed her eyes shut, praying more fervently. Whether it was Hilda’s dark magics, the new moon that Erin knew was on its way this night, or the cleric’s own fatigue, something stood in the way of Shul’s divine energy towards Hilda, a barrier that had not existed moments before for Umur. After several heartbeats, though, the now-familiar soft glow cascaded over Hilda, less than before but present. The wizard coughed weakly and rolled to her side in the wet grass.

Nearby, Umur had retrieved his longsword and stood. With a bellow he lopped a jackal’s head clean from its emaciated body and turned to face the next oncoming attacker.

Yet the battle was over. As quickly as they’d come, the swamp jackals disappeared. Any remaining members of the pack yipped and chittered away into the mists.

The group panted and wheezed as the sounds of predators faded into the fog. All around them loomed skulls on stakes, bloody furred bodies, dark trees, and swirling fog. Erin, eyes still pressed tight, said an earnest, thankful blessing to her god, tears staining her cheeks.

“We must leave this place,” Umur gasped, stomping over. “Briene, lass, lead us away.”

“The skulls,” Hilda croaked, attempting and failing to stand. “I wish to see the center of the circles. There is–”

Erin’s eyes snapped open. “No. You’ll do no such thing. We leave. Now. Joane, help me with her.”

“I can help to heal…” Briene began, even as Joane stooped to pull Hilda up.

“No, Briene,” Erin snapped, her voice like iron. “You do as Umur said: Lead us out of this Chaos-forsaken place. We must leave the Sunken Fens before we can rest. Our lives are in your hands.”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” the young woman blushed.

Without speaking another word, the group followed Briene through the mists. Erin, Haffoot, and Joane all bled and limped from numerous bites, so it was Umur who half-carried Hilda through the swamps. Fog distorted sounds in the darkened, wet moors. Half a dozen times, the companions stopped, hands straying to weapon hilts as some awful sound found its way to them. Yet each time, no new horror arrived, and they fled. The group moved slowly, stumbling, and pressed on until the mists receded behind them.

Eventually, the Sunken Fens gave way to vibrant, late-summer forest. Sunlight and fallen leaves dappled the ground. The warm red and browns of tree trunks and branches no longer seemed like nightmares waiting to grab them. Birds twittered and chirped above. Insects chittered. Even the smells of the forest had changed, from damp decay to pine and moss.

“I know this place,” Briene smiled brightly. She looked back on the companions, her face a sheen of sweat and delight. “We’re not far from the river, and then Hirot. We’re safe.”

Well goodness, that was scary. Can Briene administer healing to Hilda and the others once they’re away from the dozens of stakes skulls (whose purpose we may never know, or may play a part later… we’ll see!) and the Sunken Fens? Let’s do some checks.

For Hilda, Briene rolls a nat-20 and is able to heal her to full hit points. For Erin, she rolls a [13+1] 14, giving Erin 2d8 (4) much-needed hit points. For Haffoot and Joane, unfortunately, she fails her checks (but doesn’t roll a natural 1, which would poison them).

Which means it’s Erin’s turn. Her first Lay on Hands check for Haffoot fails, increasing her Disapproval chance to 1-2, but her next two checks succeed. She heals Haffoot and Joane to full, and then turns attention to herself. She fails again, increasing her Disapproval chance to 1-3 on a d20. Thankfully, she then rolls a 15, healing herself to full hit points. The party has officially survived the pack of swamp jackals without any lasting damage.

All this healing, however, is going to be time consuming. I’ll say that they spend an entire day in the forests surrounding Hirot, tending to their wounds and recovering. Over this time, Hilda will gain a point back each of Agility (now 10 of 11) and Stamina (now 10 of 18). Haffoot will recover 1 point of Luck (now 9 of 12).

Does anything untoward happen over the course of this day? I’ll roll a d20, and on a 1 or 2 there will be a random encounter. I roll an 18. Nope… it’s a rare day of peace and rest for our adventuring party.

The companions finally collapsed in a wooded glade. Briene immediately dropped her backpack to the leafy ground, rummaging through it for healing supplies. She spent the next several hours tending to first Hilda’s wounds, and then Erin’s. By the time the young woman looked up, blinking, darkness had gathered in the forest and Umur had begun assembling kindling for a campfire.

“We– we aren’t going back to Hirot tonight?” she asked, bone weary.

The dwarf looked at her and chuckled. “Lass, the gates closed at sundown. Besides, the work you were doin’ was too important to interrupt. You’ve become quite handy, navigatin’ us through the woods and healin’ everyone’s hurts.”

“Don’t forget her bow,” Haffoot grinned. She leaned forward to wink at Briene. “One of her shots picked a jackal clean off the ground and sent it flying through the air! I saw it!” The halfling hooted and slapped her knee.

Briene yawned. “Where’s Joane?”

“Gatherin’ firewood and washin’ up in the river,” Umur grunted. “You should wash up, too, before you fall over. Then get some food in ya and sleep. Haffoot here found a rabbit.”

“Come, Briene,” Erin stood with a groan. “We’ll go together. Hilda, hand me your waterskin so we can fill it.”

“Thank you, dear one,” Hilda said sleepily, patting the white, scaled armor upon Erin’s leg. Then the woman pulled her hood close, casting her entire face in shadow, and began lightly snoring.

“She cares for you,” Briene whispered, smiling, as they left the glade.

“Mm,” Erin said thoughtfully. “Something’s changed. She treats me almost like her own child. It’s… odd. And I like the effects of this magic upon her not at all. It’s poisoning her.”

“On that we can agree. But her affection for you is sweet. Perhaps it’s an anchor in the darkness.”

“Perhaps,” Erin sighed. “But I fear that Hilda and I will need to talk sooner than later, before that darkness becomes too great a weight.”

Later, after the six of them had licked their fingers clean of rabbit, a companionable silence fell over the campsite. Briene and Joane leaned against one another, eyes closed in appreciation for the other’s presence. Umur stared into the dwindling flames, poking idly with a stick, his mind clearly elsewhere. Haffoot lay near him, hands folded behind her head, staring up through the canopy at the night sky. Even Hilda had felt strong enough to join them, and sat cross-legged, firelight dancing on her sallow features beneath the hood.

Erin stood, and attention shifted to her. Her armor was battered and in need of repair in several places. She had passed a wet rag over parts, but the black mud of the Hound’s lair and dried blood from their encounters still spattered its surface. The cleric cleared her throat.

“Tonight,” she announced. “Is a new moon. I’ve felt my connection changing these past nights. Shul has closed his eye, resting. In such a time, I thought that I might sing a hymn.” She looked around the group, and almost as an afterthought added. “If that’s acceptable.”

Haffoot rolled up to sit. “Go on, then.”

Erin nodded, clearing her throat again. She began to sing, and once again the group was reminded that, before the portal beneath the Empty Star, Erin Wywood had been Graymoor’s minstrel. Her voice was haunting and beautiful as embers from the fire rose on smoke into the forest night.

“O Shul, Watcher upon high,

Though your eye hides, you’re still nearby.

Dancer of paths where shadows lie,

Guide us safe as stars drift by.

In darkness deep, we know your light,

Guarding souls through endless night.

O Shul, unseen, our path defend,

Until your eye returns again.

Husband of the Three, you weave unseen,

Though all is dark, you keep us keen.

Through whispered stars your darkened eye,

Holds us close as night rolls by.

In darkness deep, we know your light,

Guarding souls through endless night.

O Shul, unseen, our path defend,

Until your eye returns again,

Until your eye returns again,

Until your eye returns again.”

The last notes of Erin’s hymn washed over them, and the group sighed almost as one. Despite the horrors of the previous day and night, their spirits lifted. Joane and Briene hugged each other tightly. Haffoot patted Umur’s thigh companionably, and the dwarf grinned back.

“Beautiful,” Hilda said into the silence that followed.

“It really was,” Joane said. “Thank you.”

Erin nodded and sat back near the dying embers of the campfire. Her own prayer, it seemed, had strengthened her, for she did not grunt or groan in pain when settling down.

“So,” Joane said, disentangling herself from her friend and sitting up straight. “What happens tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Umur said. “We return to Hirot so you two can get your affairs in order. We’ll resupply, perhaps repair our armor if there’s a smithy. Then we’ll keep on, towards the Trollteeth.”

“And the mad witch,” Haffoot chided. “Don’t forget her.”

“You leave it now,” the dwarf grumbled. Haffoot giggled.

“She did supply the net,” Hilda said delicately. “And a promise is a…”

“Leave it I said!” Umur bellowed, and the halfling beside him burst into laughter.

“Well, what about the Jarl?” Joane asked. “You said he won’t be giving you all any credit, which I agree with. That bastard will find a way to make everything your fault if he can.”

“Our fault,” Hilda offered. “You’re with us now, and he’ll see it that way too.”

“We’ll just tell the truth,” Briene offered. “He’ll be grateful, won’t he?”

Umur snorted. “We’ll tell our story, aye. What the Jarl does with it, I can’t say. But that’s tomorrow. Tonight we sleep, eh? I’ll take first watch.”

They did. Below a moonless night sky, the companions finally found a long stretch of uninterrupted peace. And though each ran through their own imaginings of the next day’s events, none could have predicted what awaited them in Hirot.

Doom of the Savage Kings, chapter 15

Doom of the Savage Kings, Chapter 13

On By MagicJMSIn Dungeon Crawl Classics, Tabletop Roleplaying4 Comments

Despite purging the Hound and its black seed from the cavernous chamber, no one had a desire to make camp in the muck surrounding the dark pool. The climb out, however, took most of the night.

Briene attended to Erin’s wounds with herbs and a thick paste that smelled strongly of mint. Not only did the medicines help to close the cleric’s many puncture wounds, but they seemed to provide some vigor as well. When Erin revived, she did so with a gasp and wide eyes, already trying to stand and fight. It took three of the companions to hold her down and assure her that the evil of the Hound had been vanquished.

Briene (with her newly acquired Healing Herbs ability) was indeed able to heal Erin, which I did between level-up post and this chapter. She rolled an Intelligence check (+1 modifier) plus her level, rolling a [16+1+1] 18 total. That result heals 2 Hit Dice of damage, which for Erin means 2d8. She rolled 8 healing, bringing Erin up to full health. Go go herbal healing!

With that task done, the party is unharmed from the battle with the Hound, though Hilda and Haffoot still have ability score damage to recover with rest. Hilda regains access to Chill Touch if needed, and Erin’s disapproval chances return to natural-1s only.

Though Briene’s pungent paste could awaken Hilda, the young woman’s herbs could do nothing to heal her. Hilda’s skin was gray and sallow, and she had, thanks to the magic that had summoned their strange, winged stone ally, become thin and seemingly malnourished. The wizard smiled up weakly, past the healer to where Erin stood, with arms crossed.

“It’s as the witch says: Death follows us,” she croaked through dry lips. “But it’s not time to give my hair quite yet, is it?” Then the woman chuckled darkly, her eyes unfocused.

“What does all of that mean?” Haffoot asked, wide-eyed and looking at Erin.

“She’s delirious,” the cleric frowned, even as her companion continued to cough weakly and chuckle. “We must leave this Chaos-infested place and rest.”

With that, Erin stooped and began to haul Hilda up. Briene squealed in concern, and then Umur was there pushing the cleric away.

“There will be time to move her,” the dwarf growled. “But you won’t be doin’ the moving. Let Briene’s remedies work on you before you go bustin’ all of those wounds open again, lass. We do need rest, aye, but you most of all.”

They had thoroughly searched the cavern waiting for the Hound’s arrival, so knew that there were no hidden passages and that their only escape was the gaping maw above. Yet ascending was far more difficult than descending. To leave the lair would mean climbing a rope straight up for twenty paces before the aid of a wall, and then still another forty paces to the sinkhole’s edge. All the while, brackish water would cascade upon them, making it both difficult to see and grip the rope.

I don’t see the need to belabor what is a mundane hazard, but the more I’ve imagined the scene, the more difficult escaping the Hound’s lair seems to me. I’ll do a Strength check for each PC at DC 12. If any of them roll a 1 or 2, I’ll figure out if they fall. Lower rolls mean the task takes a long time. Higher rolls mean less time. I’ll roll in the order in which I see them ascending.

Haffoot goes first and has a -1 penalty because of her leather armor. She rolls a [14-1] 13. She reaches the top and makes it look as difficult as it is.

 Umur will have to remove his armor, but will still take a -1 penalty for the bulk of carrying it. He has to roll three times (rolling a 7 & 6 the first two times), eventually passing with a [17-1] 16. It takes him a long, long time.

Joane’s next in leather armor, and it takes her even longer. After four rolls, she eventually makes it to the top barely, with a [13-1] 12.

Erin, with the help of Briene, also removes her scale male to make the climb, and does it in two tries, crushing the second role with a 19.

Briene is going to tie Hilda’s weak form to the end of the rope and help her to the top, with the others pulling from above. I’ll lower the DC to 10 for her roll, and it takes two attempts to get there, just making it the second one.

Like I said: It takes all night.

Haffoot, light and nimble despite her club foot, made the climb first, at first laughing at how she couldn’t imagine Umur scaling the rope, then grunting with difficulty, and, eventually, falling totally silent with concentration. By the time she made it to the lip of the sinkhole, Umur and Erin were already removing their heavy, scaled mail and murmuring strategies for how best to follow.

The dwarf went next, and the journey seemed to take forever. Haffoot was not strong enough to pull him, and he was too old and depleted from the day to find hidden reserves. Twice Umur stopped, looping the rope around his legs to hold him dangling over the black pool, cursing and panting, until the others were sure he would never move again. Eventually, however, he found his way to the surface, bellowing at Haffoot to stand aside and stop laughing at him.

After that the task went more smoothly. With both Umur and Haffoot pulling from above, Joane Cayhurst, then Erin, made the climb without incident. The cleric’s wounds had begun to seep red through the paste that Briene had applied, but Erin assured them all that she would be fine. She glanced skyward, a frown creasing her face, and idly touched the crescent moon at her neck.

The young healer Briene had insisted on staying with Hilda and vowed that the two of them would make the climb together. She wound the rope around the wizard’s hips and legs, tying competent knots she’d learned from her woodsman father. Then she scaled upwards, staying within arm’s length of Hilda in case she needed aid. It was a remarkable demonstration of care, especially given that both Joane and Briene had openly shown horror at Hilda’s magic. Briene’s noble heart and concern for the infirm, it seemed, overrode her distaste for what she saw as Chaos-touched powers. When they had successfully pulled Hilda’s thin, weak form onto the marshy ground surrounding the sinkhole, Joane gave her close friend a fierce hug while the others watched Briene with thoughtful appraisal.

Indeed, something about the ordeal below had created a confidence and resolve in the young woman that was undeniable. She returned Joane’s hug with a smile, chuckling at their utterly dirty and disheveled appearance. Then she turned to the others and said in a voice gentle but firm, “I know we’re all exhausted and wish to be out of this place, but we need rest. It won’t be a feather bed, Master Dwarf, but let’s see if we might find somewhere within these marshes to regain some of our strength.”

I haven’t made any “survival” skill rolls in the past when the group has camped in the wilderness, but a) the Sunken Fens is a dangerous and foul place, even with the dark seed of Chaos in the sinkhole destroyed, and b) we now have a Ranger in the party. So let’s see how Briene does at finding shelter in a corrupted swamp.

She will get a +1 for her level and a +1 Intelligence bonus to her Wilderness Skills roll. I’ll make the DC 10 which is the “average deed” for an adventurer. If she achieves above a 15, I’ll say the party receives the full benefits of rest. If it’s below a 5, they will not only have penalties for being fatigued but will roll on a random encounter as well.

Heh. Briene rolls a [19+1+1] 21! Hilda will gain 1 Stamina (bringing her to 9 of 19) and Haffoot 1 Luck (10 of 12) thanks to Briene’s survival skills. When I rewrite Doom of the Savage Kings as a single narrative as I did with Portal Under the Stars, it will certainly be Briene leading them to the Hound’s lair, not Umur.

In the darkness of the early morning hours, with fog curling all around them, Briene led the group through the Sunken Fens and away from the sinkhole. The others followed, stumbling and fatigued and more than willing to have the woodsman’s daughter take point in navigating their route back to Hirot.

Eventually, she paused, pursed her lips, and nodded to herself. “This will have to do,” Briene announced, unshouldering her pack. “Let me see to Erin and Hilda, if you two might set up camp there, where those trees are huddled? It’s the best shelter we’ve seen, and the ground is as dry as the Fens provide.”

Haffoot and Umur exchanged a look, both with eyebrows climbing. Umur nodded gruffly while Haffoot stifled a giggle, and the two did as instructed. Joane followed them, providing her height and youthful energy to help make a competent camp. Briene, meanwhile, reapplied her remedies to Erin’s wounds and ensured that Hilda had consumed both water and food. Though the group felt far from safe, they spent the morning in quiet companionship, each finding small pockets of sleep and peace.

By the time they agreed to continue, Umur thought it was probably early afternoon, though it was impossible to tell by constant mists and lack of light within the Sunken Fens. Briene agreed, and thought she could find her way back to Hirot before nightfall and the closing of the palisade gates.

Of course, returning to the village conjured its own uncertainty.

“There’s as likely to be an armed force waiting for us as a parade,” Umur groused. “The Jarl’s pride won’t allow him to accept us as saviors, I think.”

“Perhaps the wedding will distract him!” Haffoot chided, cackling momentarily and then clapping hands over her mouth.

“You be quiet,” the dwarf grunted, elbowing his companion.

“And you two,” Erin interrupted, directing her words at Joane and Briene. As always, the two young women were together, though the healer’s attention was focused on navigating the moors. “What will you do, now that the Hound is gone?”

The group stopped and fell silent at the question. All attention went to the women of Hirot.

Joane glanced at the others and cleared her throat. “Bree and I have been talking. The only life waiting for me in Hirot is the Wolf-Spear. Ah, the inn, not the weapon,” she clarified, seeing the others’ momentary confusion. “But I’ve got no family anymore. Someone else can run it.”

“And I,” Briene sighed. “Am better here, in the forest, than with Father Beacom. The forest needs healing and protection, it’s clear to me now. Staying inside a palisades wall feels wrong now.”

“Which is to say,” Joane stammered, suddenly looking unsure. “We’d join you, if you’d have us.”

“At least until the Trollteeth,” Briene clarified.

“After all the danger you’ve faced with us,” Umur asked. “You’d face more? The wilds here are as likely to kill us as not before we even reach my homeland.”

“We would,” Briene nodded decisively. Even covered in two days of grime and mud, it was difficult not to be struck by her beauty.

“If you’d have us,” Joane added, blowing a stray strand of dirty red hair away from her face.

“Of course,” Erin said seriously. The others nodded in agreement. The two Hirot women blinked, surprised at the lack of deliberation.

Umur chuckled at their response. “Heh. You’ve kept us alive as much or more as we have you,” he grinned, nodding at the paste on Erin’s sides and the spear in Joane’s hands.

“Come on, then!” Haffoot whooped, jumping and throwing her arms wide. “Let’s have a hug!”

There, in the damp, warm mists of the Sunken Fens, the group met in a collective embrace. All except Hilda, who sat back and away upon a rotting, fallen tree to rest. From beneath her hood, the wizard grinned at the scene.

I’m going to use the mechanic of getting to the Hound’s lair on the way out of the Sunken Fens. Briene will make another Wilderness skill check, +1 for her Intelligence and +1 for her level. On a result of 15+, they’ll take the most direct route back to Hirot and travel 2 more hours. 10-15 will mean 3 hours. 5-9 will mean 4 hours. And a lower result will mean 5+1d4 hours and missing the closing of the gate.

Briene rolls a [7+1+1] 9. Not a great result, and will mean four rolls on the random encounter table. Yes, the Hound and its seed of evil or gone, but Briene is correct that the corruption of the forest doesn’t end overnight. There are still dark forces roaming the mists. Once again, I’ll roll a d5, with a 4-5 resulting in an encounter of some kind.

Hour 1: 5.

Hour 2: 5

Hour 3: 5

Hour 4: 2.

Holy crap! Well, let me roll three times on the encounter table and see if I can combine or somehow speed up the narrative so it doesn’t take multiple chapters to reach Hirot. I roll two 6s (which are the same scene and not an encounter per se, so I’ll combine those into one set piece), and a 7 (which is very much an encounter, and makes sense to have in the aforementioned set piece). Very cool, and also means that we’re not quite ready to wrap this adventure yet.

An hour or more later, Briene was not smiling. She stopped and squinted, her eyes scanning the forest around her.

“What is it, Bree?” Joane asked.

“This isn’t the way,” the young woman answered. “And something is stalking us.”

“What!?” Umur growled, reaching for his sword.

“Hold, Master Pearlhammer,” Briene said with a calming wave. “They have been stalking us for some time, always at a distance. I think it’s wolves, wild dogs, or jackals of some kind.”

“Well I like that not at all,” Haffoot said, turning and searching the mists.

“I had hoped that if we kept moving at a good pace they would eventually leave us be, but they’ve been remarkably persistent. In my haste and distraction, though, I took a wrong turn. I– I think this way should get us back to Hirot.”

“Keeping their distance or no, weapons out,” Umur instructed, unsheathing his longsword.

The group stayed close to one another, not speaking, as they followed Briene’s instructions through the tangles of brown briars, withered oaks, and marshy grasses. More than once, someone would swear they’d seen a pair of dark eyes watching through the swirling fog, but as soon as they’d turned, the eyes were gone. Sounds, too, came at them weirdly in the fens, making it impossible to verify if creatures surrounded them or it was simply the groaning, creaking branches combined with bird calls.

“I sense Chaos here,” Erin growled. Something loomed ahead, shrouded, and she stepped forward along the soft ground to meet it.

The mists shifted, revealing a skull pierced upon a tall, sharpened stake. The wood had been driven into the swampy ground, but it still canted somewhat to one side. The skull itself appeared to be human, and strange symbols had been carved into the white bone.

“What in the Nine Hells?” Umur gasped. He had fanned out next to Erin and faced another skull, almost identical to the first, though the symbols etched into it were slightly different.

As they moved cautiously forward, the group entered an entire field of skulls on stakes, watching them with empty eye sockets. The ground was uneven, but the stakes seemed to have been placed in a pattern, all facing outwards in rough, concentric circles, and at the center a larger skull that appeared to be something with horns, perhaps a bull. In all, more than two dozen stakes made the unsettling formation. More than two dozen, which meant a field of death.

“Who were these people?” Joane asked. “And who placed these here?”

“The important question is why,” Hilda rasped from behind, leaning heavily upon her staff. “Those are arcane runes. This is either a warding or a summoning. I would guess–”

Before she could finish her thought, the first creature leapt in a flash of fur and teeth from the mists.

The party is facing a pack of swamp jackals. I rolled 3d7 for how many and unfortunately landed on a whopping 15. Individually, each has only 4 hit points and does only 1d4 damage, but with so many this encounter could become quite deadly.

Even though I’ve distracted the PCs with the unsettling tapestry of skulls, they have been on guard for danger. As a result, there will be no surprise round for the jackals. Instead, it’s just a straight initiative roll, fifteen combatants versus six.

Round 1, and four swamp jackals have won initiative. The first runs through the marsh towards Erin, rolling [19+2] 21 and hitting for 2 damage with its bite. The second does the same at Joane, hitting with a [14+2] 16 and doing a maximum 4 damage. The third attacks Hilda from the rear, rolling [18+2] 20 and also hitting for 4 damage. Finally, the fourth attack Umur and barely misses with a [12+2] 14.

Joane is up next and rolls a measly 1 on her Deed Die. Thankfully she hits with the wolf-spear on a [14+1+1] 16, but does minimum damage at [1+1+1] 3, leaving the jackal that attacked her with 1 hp.

Okay, now I am officially worried.

 A fifth jackal misses Joane with a [2+2] 4. Another misses Umur with a [10+2] 12. A seventh misses Haffoot with a [5+2] 7. Haffoot returns the attack but misses with both blades. I consider burning Luck for the second attack, which is 1 off the jackal’s AC, but I think it’s too early to do so.

An eighth jackal joins the fight against Haffoot and misses by 1. Briene’s turn, and she backs up to fire at one of the jackals surrounding Joane. She hits with a [19+1+1] 21, doing 3 damage. That’s great but leaves yet another jackal at 1 hp and able to attack next turn.

Jackal number nine attacks Umur and hits with a [13+2] 15, doing 2 damage. Next is Hilda’s turn, but let’s pause to describe this first burst of action.

It was as large as a medium-sized dog, with patchy, filthy fur and the features of a fox. It snarled and yipped as it leapt from the mists, jaws snapping at Erin’s armored legs. Before the cleric could react, others had leapt from bushes and from behind trees, all darting in to tear at the companions’ legs. While Erin and the others had paused to examine the strange skulls, it was clear now that these hungry, desperate jackals had maneuvered to surround them. Once the party had paused, the pack made their attack.

The creatures were everywhere, more than a dozen of them and attacking the companions in twos and threes. Umur, Haffoot, Joane, and Erin all cried out from sharp teeth that found flesh between armored plates and leather boots. Then they were gone, back into the swirling fog.

Frantically, the companions lashed out with their weapons. But though they fended off several jackals, the beasts leapt away and danced back, keeping their prey off guard and swinging wildly.

“Form up!” Umur bellowed. “Do not get separated!”

Hilda, grimacing, pulled back her hood. The black rectangle upon her forehead glowed blue in the shrouded swamp. Though she could feel the power pulling yet more of her strength, she embraced it and threw her arms wide, chanting.

Oh Hilda. Time to spellburn yet again. She’s going to fund her Invoke Patron spell check with 2 points of Agility. To do so, she first rolls on her patron’s spellburn table, rolling a 2 on d4. That result says, “A conduit is opened to Ptah-Ungurath, who supplies magical power in exchange for part of the caster’s soul (expressed in ability score loss). There is a 50% chance that Ptah-Ungurath wants more than the caster in willing to give, and takes 2 points for every 1 point of spellburn gained.” Ugh. I roll d100 and thankfully get a 74. Her patron will “only” take the 2 points of Agility (leaving her at 9 of 11).

Her spell check, then is +2 for the spellburn, +1 for her level. She rolls a [10+2+1] 13, which is the lowest possible result above a failure but will still be useful for this combat. The result says, “A strange apprehension of danger sweeps over the area, and every enemy within 100’ of the caster has a -2 penalty to all attack rolls, saves, skills, and ability checks due to a brooding sense of doom. This penalty lasts for 2d6+CL rounds, but even afterwards those affected may experience bouts of melancholy and despair).” I roll [10+1] 11 rounds, which is roughly 2 full minutes and will undoubtedly cover the entire combat.

With the aid of the penalty, the tenth and eleventh jackals miss Erin, and the twelfth misses Umur (I’m going to stop always listing rolls for this combat given the number of actors).

Sensing the party’s predicament, Erin is going to try casting Holy Sanctuary for the first time. As always, she gains a +1 for her level but a -1 for her Personality, which makes it a straight d20 roll. She rolls a 14, thankfully, which states, “Enemies are compelled to focus their attacks against other targets. As long as an attacker can reasonably attack some other target instead of the cleric, it must choose to do so. In order to resist this compulsion and attack the cleric, an enemy must make a Will save vs. spell check DC. If the cleric is the only reasonable target, the creature need not make a save to attack the cleric. This effect lasts for 1 turn. It is immediately dispelled if the cleric attacks or takes aggressive action in any way.” Those Will saves will be at -2 thanks to Hilda.

The thirteenth jackal misses Haffoot (which would have been a hit if not for Hilda’s penalty). Umur finally gets his turn, missing with his longsword with a 1 on his Deed Die and a roll of [8+1+1] 10, but he does manage a slight shield bash, with a [13+1+1] 15 on the d16 and doing 1 point of damage. The penultimate jackal, though, darts forward and rolls a 17 to bite the dwarf for 2 damage. Finally, the fifteenth jackal attacks Hilda, hitting and doing 3 damage.

A quick status check: Briene & Haffoot unharmed (9 & 6 hp, respectively). Erin 8 of 10 hp. Hilda 11 of 14 hp. Joane & Umur both at 6 of 10 hp. All fifteen swamp jackals remain. YIKES!

A pulse of light swept out of the wizard in all directions, leaving her companions untouched but causing the swamp jackals to whimper and roll their eyes in unease. Though they continued to leap and gnash at them all, their conviction waned as an unnatural dread settled over the pack. It was only when one bravely leapt at the magic user and tore at her legs that the jackals seemed to regain some of their savagery.

Erin Wywood, meanwhile, clutched her crescent pendant with one hand and swept her dagger defensively with the other. A glow began emanating from her white, battle-scarred armor, making her appear like a small moon settled into the moor. The jackals danced away from the cleric, focusing their attention on other members of the party and giving her a moment to assess the situation. Everywhere she looked, furred bodies gnashed at legs or leaps away from wild swings of weapons. Erin’s companions were losing this fight, and badly.

It feels useless to describe each individual action in the narrative, so let’s proceed with Round 2. The first jackal fails its Will save badly (natural 2), which I’ll say means it cowers for a turn. The second misses Joane (only because of Hilda’s spell), the third misses Haffoot, and the fourth misses Umur. Whew.

Joane decides to target an uninjured jackal and rolls a massive 3 on her Deed Die. She’s going to try and throw one of the creatures into another as her Mighty Deed. She hits with a [12+1+3], killing the first jackal she stabs. I’ll let her make a second attack at d16, and she hits there too with a [14+1+3] 18! Thanks to the Deed Die damage, it doesn’t matter what I decide for damage dice on that second attack, because it kills the next jackal as well. Great job, Joane!

The fifth jackal again misses Joane only thanks to the -2 from Hilda. The sixth misses Umur badly, but the seventh rolls a 15 and bites Haffoot for 2 damage. The halfling swings both swords, but only hits with one of them, doing 2 damage as well. That same jackal returns the attack but misses.

Briene will shoot at one of the injured jackals harassing Joane and hit with a [19+1+1] 21, skewering and killing it. Another jackal misses Umur, leaving Hilda to swing with her staff at the one that hurt her (no surprise, she misses). The next jackal rolls a natural 20 on its Will save and attacks Erin, but misses.

Speaking of natural 20s, the next jackal scores a critical hit on Umur. Yikes. It rolls a 2 on the monster crit table, which states “Stunning blow! The PC falls to the bottom of the initiative count for the remainder of the battle.” – that stinks for Umur but could have been a lot worse, especially since the swamp jackal only rolls 1 damage.

Recognizing that the jackal in front of her is no longer affected by her spell (which would end this turn anyway), she strikes with her dagger, hitting with a [16+1] 17 and doing [4+1] 5 damage and killing it. The next jackal misses Haffoot.

Another high roll from a jackal facing Umur hits for max damage, dropping him to a single hit point. Meanwhile, the fifteenth swamp jackal bites Hilda for another point of damage. Umur, clearly harried and wounded, rolls a 1 on his Deed die and pitifully low on his two strikes, missing.

Round 2 status check: Briene is still unharmed (9 hp). Erin 8 of 10 hp. Haffoot 4 of 6 hp. Hilda 10 of 14 hp. Joane 6 of 10 hp. Umur 1 of 10 hp. Eleven of fifteen swamp jackals remain, and three of those are injured.

Though they are technically winning the fight, I’m going to do a morale check for the pack of swamp jackals. The way morale checks in DCC work is by rolling a d20 Will save at DC 11. Failure means the creatures attempt to flee. The jackals will be at a -2 save because of Hilda’s spell. Their normal Will save is +1, so it will be a -1 total for the roll. I also won’t roll individually; they attacked as a pack and will flee as a pack.

The morale check roll is a [15-1] 14. They stay and fight, which means that Umur and Haffoot are in danger of dying.

We press on. Round 3!

The first jackal rolls another natural 20 on Erin, doing 3 damage and “Legs knocked out from beneath the character, knocking her prone.” Another jackal takes advantage of her being prone and just hits with the +2 bonus, doing 2 more damage and bringing Erin to 3 hp.

Joane steps in and obliterates one of the wounded jackals, doing 9 damage (it had a single hp left).

Meanwhile, two jackals miss Haffoot and another misses Umur. Haffoot again hits with one of her two swords and kills the jackal she had previously injured. Seeing his plight, Briene fires an arrow at one near Umur and kills a jackal with a max roll of 6 damage. Hilda again misses with her staff. Another jackal misses Umur, and Erin also misses. A jackal misses Haffoot, but another bites Erin, dealing 1 damage and leaving her at 2 hp. We now have three PCs within a single strike of death! To make matters worse, the one latched onto Hilda is starting to do serious damage. She takes 3 more damage.

The round ends with Umur, who rolls a 2 on his Deed die. He rolls a [19+1+2] with his longsword, dealing an absurd [8+2] 10 damage and killing another jackal. His shield bash, however, misses.

Round 3 status check: Briene is still unharmed (9 hp). Erin 3 of 10 hp. Haffoot 4 of 6 hp. Hilda 7 of 14 hp. Joane 6 of 10 hp. Umur 1 of 10 hp. Seven swamp jackals remain.

Time for another morale check now that their number is less than half of what started this assault: The pack rolls a Will save of [16-1] 15. Wow. Apparently they are desperate, hungry, and sensing that a meal is close. I’ll continue to roll at the end of each round in which one of the jackals dies.

Round 4 will be, I think, the deciding one. But since this is already an incredibly long chapter, let’s find out what happens next time! Will it be death for one or more of our PCs, brought down by scavengers even after purging the forest of the Hound of Hirot? Or will the group rally and survive the Sunken Fens? It’s going to be a close call, either way.

The next moments were a frenzy of activity. Jackals darted in to tear and rip at the group of bedraggled adventurers, each of whom swung weapons in a desperate attempt to survive. The animals were desperate and clearly hungry, their ribs straining against patchy fur, yet there was something unnervingly intelligent about their assault as well.

At one point, Joane pierced a creature with the broad head of the wolf-spear and flung the corpse into another, smashing it against the trunk of a tree. Umur heard a sharp yelp behind him and turned, only to see an animal with one of Briene’s arrow shafts protruding from its eye socket. Yet amidst these fleeting, heroic moments, too many teeth found purchase. Soon all the companions bled from wounds on their legs and torsos, their attacks slowing and steps stumbling. Though the adventurers had thinned the pack of scavengers considerably, the jackals still outnumbered them.

Doom of the Savage Kings, Chapter 14

DCC Character Level 1: Briene Byley

On By MagicJMSIn Dungeon Crawl Classics, Tabletop Roleplaying5 Comments

What the heck, right? The Hound is just dead, without a satisfying, climactic fight?! And Briene, who has proved utterly useless in combat with the Hound, just decided it was a good idea to wade into the bubbling black pool of awfulness in the Hound’s lair!?!

Honestly, Briene has more than earned a level-up based on surviving repeated dangers alongside our party of adventurers. Yet I said previously that her advancement would wait until the end of Doom of the Savage Kings. We aren’t precisely at the end of our adventure (How will the Jarl react to the party’s actions? Will Umur make good on his promise to marry Ymae? etc. etc.), but we’re close enough to allow her an actual DCC class. I also mentioned that, if Erin died, Briene would become the new Cleric of the party. Although she fainted at the end of the last installment and her healing powers have momentarily failed her, Erin is very much alive. In that case, then, I said that I wanted to explore a possible third-party class for Briene. Today is that day!

First, let’s remind ourselves of Briene Byley’s Level 0 character stats:

Briene Byley. Level 0 Healer. STR 8, AGL 14, STA 11, PER 9, INT 15, LCK 15 (righteous heart, +1 to turn undead). Init +1; Atk club +0 melee (1d4); AC 11; HP 1; MV 30′; Act 1d20; SV Fort +0, Ref +1, Will +0; LNG Common (+1); AL Lawful; Equipment: grappling hook, holy water (vial), 33cp.

It’s always interesting to look back on the Level 0 stats. For example, I completely forgot that Briene would get a +1 bonus to turning undead had she become a Cleric, or that she randomly carried a grappling hook around.

In the fiction of the story, we established that Briene’s father had been a woodsman and hunter, teaching her about the outdoors. It was Briene that led the party to Ulfheonar’s tomb, through the dense woods north of Hirot. In looking through possible third-party classes, I thought it would be fun to make Briene a Druid (one option is here, and another here). But as I sat down to level her up, it occurred to me that having a third spellcaster was probably overkill, especially given how unique and scene-eating magic can be in Dungeon Crawl Classics. At the same time, I like that Briene has obtained a bow, playing to her Agility bonus and away from her underwhelming Strength. A ranged combatant is something the party desperately needs. Alright, then: Briene is about to follow in her father’s footsteps and become… a Ranger!

As far as I can tell, there are three different third-party options for a Ranger class. First, there is Raskal’s, which debuted in the awesome Crawl Fanzine #6. Second is one that builds on ideas from the first, by John Carr. Finally, the amazing Knights in the North (where I stole my Shul Cleric write-up, you may recall) have also offered one. Which flavor of Ranger do I choose for Briene? They’re all sweet, but I’ve chosen John Carr’s for a few reasons:

  • d8 Hit Dice makes more sense to me than the d10 of Raskal’s.
  • The other two options provide Mighty Deed effects, and I like keeping this benefit restricted to our Warrior and Dwarf classes.
  • The “Healing Herbs” feature fits the fiction and character perfectly.

That said, I’m going add one small feature to John’s that the other two include, which I’ll describe below. Fun fun! Let’s get into what Briene gets as a John Carr Ranger…

Hit Points: I’ve already covered this roll in Joane’s level-up (link above in the header). Briene is happily sitting at 10 hit points and will gain a d8 each level thereafter.

Combat Path: Briene can choose either Two-Weapon Fighting or Archery. It’s clear that, for Briene, archery is the way to go. This path means that she can ignore the -2 range penalty for medium range (which for her shortbow means she can fire up to 100’ with no penalty). More importantly, she can ignore the 50% chance of hitting an ally when firing into melee. This “firing into melee” penalty came up in the Hound battle, and will be especially important since Umur, Erin, Haffoot, and Joane all fight up close.

Favored Enemy: All three Ranger options have something like this, where a broad class of creatures is the specific foe of the PC. I like how John handled this feature the most: When attacking a favored enemy, Briene will gain three boons: 1) she will increase her Action Die from a d20 to d24, 2) her critical hit range will increase (to 21-24 on a d24), and 3) she gains an improved Crit Die and Table when landing a critical hit.

The only time Briene was particularly useful in combat was against the ghouls in Ulfheonar’s tomb. She will, as we find out below, also be wholly dedicated to purging the forest from blights like the Hound. Finally, her lucky “boon” (though she doesn’t know it and likely never will) is for turning undead. Putting these three ideas together, Briene favored enemy will be “Undead.” I also like Briene being an undead hunter as a nod to her almost becoming a cleric (at least in my mind).

Healing Herbs: Among three great Ranger options, this feature pushed me most onto John Carr’s write-up. Using naturals herbs and saps, Briene can heal as per the Cleric Lay on Hands ability, using the “Adjacent” column for all effects (in other words, the healing is not dependent upon alignment of the healer and patient). John doesn’t say what attribute roll Briene will make, but for me it makes most sense that the roll be based on Intelligence (not Personality as the Cleric). As an added bit of flavor, if Briene rolls a natural 1 on a healing check, she will accidentally poison the victim.

Other Benefits: Briene will now get her level (for now +1) to several useful wilderness skills, including climbing, detecting and setting natural traps, sneaking and hiding in natural environments, traveling without leaving a trace, and survival skills (like making camp, tracking, foraging, etc.). She’ll also gain a +1 to her Reflex and Fortitude saves.

Finally, I mentioned above that I would steal one feature from the other Ranger class write-ups, which is language proficiency. I like the idea that Rangers pick up languages in their travels, and so Briene will get twice the number of languages she’d normally get for her Intelligence (in this case, 2 instead of 1 additional language). One of these will be the alignment language of Law, which is a nod to her time in the Temple of Justicia. For the second language, I’ll leave this open for now and wait for the story to shape the answer.

Title: John doesn’t offer title suggestions for his Ranger class, so I’ll peek at the other two. Even though Briene will keep her Lawful alignment, I like the title suggestion for a Level 1 Neutral Ranger from Knights in the North: Seeker. It fits her temple origins, and the general vibe of Briene looking for her purpose now that she’s linked up with this crew of adventurers. Seeker Briene Byley, welcome to the party!

Putting all of that together, here is her new character sheet (not an official Goodman Games one because of the unique class, so instead I used a generic one from Jeremy Deram:

Stepping back, Briene fills many of the obvious holes in the current party. She is the singular ranged attacker (although Hilda can do some damage at range, it’s highly unpredictable). Briene is a secondary healer, especially important for times when Erin is the one who drops. Finally, the party now has some wilderness skills to aid them in overland travel, something I’ve been hand-waving up until this point but now can make a more interesting part of adventuring. Despite entering this level-up intending to make Briene a Druid, I’m highly satisfied with where she finds herself.

I’m equally pleased that Briene’s third-party class doesn’t feel overpowered (which is the primary concern for most third-party products in any system) while adding significant flavor to the existing party. In short, Briene feels “ranger-y” in a very DCC way. There are something like a hundred possible classes created by fans over the last dozen years of the game’s existence, and the Ranger feels like a nice way to explore the possibilities here.

As a reminder, I’ve decided to level up characters after the completion of adventures (though I’m also tracking XP, which I’ll detail in my Doom of the Savage Kings reflections). Erin, Haffoot, Hilda, and Umur will achieve Level 2 soon, and it will take them two decent-sized adventures to reach Level 3. Joane and Briene, now officially a cohort, will level up after the first of these two adventures. This system means that Joane and Briene will always be lagging slightly behind the other four, but they should also find themselves at the same level more often than not.

Circling back to where I started this post, why was Briene wading into the pool again? Let’s add a narrative, as I’ve done with other level-ups, to explore Briene’s motivations…

The black pool did not have the consistency of water. Instead, it was like slippery tar, both clinging to and sliding off Briene’s skin and clothing as she waded into it more deeply. The liquid was also hot, though rapidly cooling. She suspected that, while the Hound had been alive, the black stuff would have badly scalded her.

When asked later–repeatedly–why she had walked directly into the Hound’s birthing pool, Briene could not articulate her motivations clearly. As the others had huddled on the shore opposite her, near their foe’s rapidly dissolving form, her initial instinct had been to run to Erin’s aid. The cleric of Shul had collapsed. Though Briene could not perform the miracles that Erin performed, she was a healer by training. It was why she’d endured the fanaticism of Father Beacom at the temple in Hirot, to gain access to people in need who required her mix of herbs, poultices, and medicines, all learned from her woodsman father. The sight of Erin slumping to the muddy ground made Briene gasp and drop her bow, and, before realizing it, she had already taken a step in her companion’s direction.

It was then that she’d paused. Alone in this part of the cavern, something called to her. The call was not a sound so much as a tingling down her spine, an invisible line connecting Briene with… something wrong. She’d frozen, mid-stride, and her eyes had swiveled to the black pool, encircled by swamp water cascading into it from above.

To be sure, the horror of the forest’s corruption had deeply shaken Briene, whose fondest memories were trailing her father through trees and game trails. She hadn’t realized it until guiding Erin and her adventuring party to Ulfheonar’s tomb, but she felt most at ease surrounded by nature’s abundance. Briene’s mother had died in childbirth, so her father had been her world. His love of woodcraft had shaped the forest into a private sanctuary of love and protection, a world that felt more sacred to Briene than any temple to Justicia. To have the forest defiled was… well. It was exactly, she suspected, like a cleric seeing her god’s temple defiled. The wrongness of it overpowered her.

With the threat of the Hound eliminated, it was as if her senses had expanded, taking in the wider chamber for the first time. Something within the pool–she was utterly certain–was the true origin of the forest’s pollution. The Hound was merely a herald, a minion of the true evil here. The witch’s net, the fabled spear, the might of the assembled adventurers… all of it was to combat the herald, not the true threat to the natural world surrounding them. It was as if, she tried explaining later to her companions, the forest itself was pointing her to its wound, imploring her to help.

To heal.

And so Briene found herself wading through hot, unnatural fluid, Chaos’ birthing chamber. With each stride she moved deeper, first to her calves, then to her knees, and now to her hips. As she moved deeper, the forest seemed to cry out louder, the tingling upon her spine becoming a maddening, frantic scratch. Here was the source of corruption. Here was its blackened heart.

“Blast it all to the Nine Hells,” she heard the dwarf’s voice, dimly, echo across the chamber over the crash of falling water. “Briene! Get over here, lass! We need a healer!”

Briene, her face a mask of concentration, pushed deeper towards the center of the pool, the foul waters now to her ribcage.

“Briene! No!”

Momentarily, Briene startled out of her trance and looked over. Her dear friend Joane stood upon the shore. In one hand she held Ulfheonar’s wolf-spear, the butt digging into the muck below. Joane’s face was etched with shock and concern.

“I– we have to stop it,” Briene said uncertainly. “It’s here.”

“What?” Joane called out. “Bree, what did you say? I can’t hear over the water!”

Briene shook her head. Without trying to explain herself, she plunged under the liquid’s oily, clinging surface, hand outstretched.

Several heartbeats later, when she surfaced with a gasp, the entire group ashore was shouting and crying out. Briene wiped muck from her eyes to see Joane already to her knees in the pool, trudging towards her with a face of utter horror. Umur had also taken several strides into the black water, cursing in his native tongue as he passed through the halo of falling water from above. Haffoot knelt by Erin and Hilda’s slumped forms, her eyes wide and focused on the seemingly crazy young healer from Hirot.

“It’s okay!” Briene shouted at them. “I found it!”

Fist outstretched, she began moving towards her companions. Joane and Umur stopped their advance, waiting for her.

“What in blue blazes are you doing, lass?!” Umur shouted over the waterfall, just as Joane yelled, “Are you alright, Bree?”

“I found it!” Briene said again, almost hysterically. She walked past Joane first, then Umur, and both followed in her wake. They exchanged a look behind her back, confused and concerned.

The thing in her fist pulsed and throbbed, making the fluttering along her spine almost maddening with its intensity. When she reached the shore, she opened her hand.

It was a black orb, perfectly round, the size of an acorn. Such a small cause for such overpowering darkness, she thought with wonder, even as every fiber of being recoiled at seeing it. But then, Briene supposed, mighty oaks originated from acorns, didn’t they? Everything begins with a seed. And here was the seed of corruption, this oily black orb, some ancient item of Chaos that had begun with magic like Hilda’s that Briene could not understand, borne of forces beyond the limits of her conception. For a fleeting moment, the thing reached out to her mind, trying perhaps to connect with her despite its alien evil. Or perhaps it sensed the threat of Briene, the warden of the sacred forest, and it made one final attempt to survive.

Before Joane or Umur could glimpse the item in her palm, Briene clenched her wet fingers and crushed the thing in her fist. It squelched, like an egg bursting. Black ichor oozed between her fingers, dribbling to the wet soil below.

All at once, the cacophonous, staccato dancing upon her spine ceased. The clinging, slippery fluid drenching her seemed to sigh, returning to something closer to water in its consistency.

Briene smiled a tight, fierce grin, shaking her hand free of the orb’s gore. The forest was still ill, a dire sickness that would take years to heal. But at least the infection was gone.

Her companions, agape, stared at her, unsure what to say or do. Briene, still grinning, dropped to her knees in the muck and immediately began rummaging in her satchel for the herbs and poultices that might heal Erin’s wounds.

Doom of the Savage Kings, Chapter 13

Doom of the Savage Kings, Chapter 12

On By MagicJMSIn Dungeon Crawl Classics, Tabletop Roleplaying6 Comments

Around midday, Umur found the heart of the Sunken Fens. All hint of sunlight was gone because of the tangled branches overhead and heavy mists that seemed to cling to everything. The stench of burbling muck, like rotten eggs, hung in the air and made the companions wrinkle their noses. But what made Umur swear in his dwarven tongue and stop their advance, what made him know that they had found the Hound of Hirot’s befouled lair, was the gaping hole before them.

The waters of swamp drained away here, all moving like sludge inexorably towards an enormous sinkhole, more than three times across as the humans were tall. Slow, billowing clouds of black miasma roiled at its edges, though there was no sign of fire or cause for the smoke. Visible through the haze, dozens of fat flies the size of Haffoot’s fist buzzed almost drunkenly over the hole’s width. The bark of the rotting trees surrounding the sinkhole was stained black, and branches reached out like warding arms. It was a blight, this place, and wholly unnatural.

“By the Dancer of the Half-Light’s Path,” Erin gasped. “It is no wonder that this lair is shrouded from the sun and moon alike. Shul preserve us.”

“It’s killed the forest here,” Briene whispered, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. Tears formed in her wide eyes. “Corrupted it.”

“There is power here,” Hilda intoned from the back. “Ancient, dark power.”

“We have to go down, yeah? Into the hole?” Haffoot asked anyone who would answer in a small, halting voice.

“To rid the world of the Hound, absolutely we do,” Erin said. One hand strayed to the silver crescent at her neck, touching it for reassurance.

Umur had edged forward as the others huddled and whispered. He stood a stride’s length from the gaping maw of the sinkhole and peered over its edge, squinting to see through the putrid, oily clouds and bloated flies.

“Blast it all. Let’s get to it, then,” he said, and began unshouldering his backpack.

Even with his dwarven darkvision, Umur could not see the bottom of the sinkhole. They tied their ropes together, then secured one end to a rotting tree. The bark squelched and burst like a boil when the dwarf and Joane tightened their knots, releasing a smell like spoiled meat. Yet the anchor appeared strong enough to hold their weight, which Umur tested with violent tugs.

The armored dwarf went first, his face stoic and etched in concentration. Shield strapped to his back and longsword sheathed at his hip, he dug his boots into the soft muck of the hole’s side and lowered himself hand over hand through the coiling smoke and flies. The others held their breath, fear and disgust warring within their bellies.

Long after he had disappeared into shadow, Umur’s voice called up. “Alright,” it echoed. “Haffoot next. The rope’s sturdy. We can take two at a time.”

As instructed, the halfling chuckled nervously, then, with a quick salute, hopped over the edge. Her boots squelched into the side, and then she disappeared. Joane, with Ulfheonar’s wolf-spear jutting over one shoulder, followed her. Once they’d called up, Erin Wywood, her white armor and softly glowing eyes in contrast to everything in her surroundings, gripped the rope. Then lovely Briene, tears still glistening on her cheeks, disappeared over the edge as well.

Finally, Hilda of the Empty Star stood at the sinkhole’s maw. She peered around abstractly, studying the effect of the Hound on this place. The young healer had been correct, the magic had corrupted the forest. Shaped it. No different, she realized, than what she had accomplished near the standing stones when she reached out to her patron. What would this place look like if shaped by the bald man in the orb instead of the Hound? Would it be beautiful or horrific or something else? Someday, long from now, would the orb in her satchel lay forgotten in a sinkhole somewhere, sculpting the world to its whims and calling out for a new master? There was still so much about the nature of the power she wielded that she did not understand. What powers had the Savage King been tampering with, long ago, within the portal under the stars?

“Hilda?” a voice called from below. It was Erin’s. The wizard grinned.

“Coming!” she responded. She pushed her reverie aside and descended into the depths of the Hound’s lair.

It was a long way down, and two-thirds of the way the walls flared out and away, leaving Hilda to dangle like a spider on a slender thread to the bottom, with water above splattering down constantly and wetting her robes. Waiting at the bottom were her companions, who steadied and helped her stand on the sludgy ground.

They stood, all of them soaked, in a single chamber that was roughly circular. From above rained a cascade of dark water from the swamp, spattering at the edges of an inky black pool at the chamber’s center. The pool’s surface roiled like a boiling cauldron, yet inexorably slower. Bubbles lazed their way at the pool’s black surface, taking several heartbeats to slowly burst. The result was a pool that felt as if it did not boil so much as undulate, the effect as unnatural as everything else about the sinkhole.

All around the pool’s perimeter, at the companions’ feet, bits of rusted metal, bones, and broken weapons littered the muddy, slick shore. Otherwise, no signs of life existed. Not even the gorged flies, it seemed, would venture here.

“Ugh, it stinks even worse than above,” Haffoot complained, covering her nose and mouth. The halfling’s high voice echoed weirdly.

“I can barely see,” Joane added. “You’d think more light would come from above.”

At that, Hilda reached into her satchel and removed the glowing orb. Immediately, a pulsing, celestial light filled the chamber. In some ways, the orb helped to push back the horror of this place, but it also highlighted the foulness all around them. If anything, the surrounding shadows deepened. Joane and Briene edged away from Hilda, unsure if they were grateful for the illumination or resentful of the reminder of the wizard’s unnerving powers.

 “Now we wait,” Erin said. “I suggest we fan out and surround the pool.”

“If it comes at nightfall,” Haffoot grimaced. “Won’t it be hours still?”

The cleric smiled, but the expression did not travel beyond her lips. “Time enough to dry ourselves. And to pray. We battle an ancient Chaos tonight. Make peace with your gods and ancestors.” With that, Erin settled to the wet ground, resting hands on armored knees. She closed her eyes and began to hum a haunting melody. She did not say it aloud, but the tune was meant to shield her from the evil of the black pool as much as to connect with Shul. It radiated a… wrongness that threatened constantly to infiltrate her thoughts, and the moon tonight would be the barest sliver. She prayed that her god’s gaze would find her.

Time did not pass quickly that afternoon. Erin stayed motionless, her various cants echoing within the foul chamber. Joane and Briene huddled and whispered, distracting themselves with banter. Umur, Haffoot, and Hilda, meanwhile, spent their time searching the shore. Between the three of them, they found dozens of bits of gold and silver jewelry, some of which seemed ancient. The most valuable of these was a golden necklace decorated with bronze that Haffoot happily pocketed. With some polishing, she said, they had more wealth from the debris here than any of them would have seen in a lifetime working in Graymoor.

The armaments, unfortunately, were mostly shattered beyond use. There were two exceptions: the first was a wavy-bladed sword, inlaid with silver, that seemed perhaps as if it once belonged to a warrior from the Snake King’s tribe. Umur thought it might be reparable in a proper smithy, though unlikely better than their existing weapons. The second was a small, round buckler shield. The shield itself was dirty but in remarkably good condition, but the leather straps had long since disintegrated. With some care, the dwarf said, it was a proper shield for a two-weapon duelist like Haffoot. The halfling’s eyes lit up at the idea, and she found a place for the metal disc as well in her possessions.

Eventually, after long hours, night arrived. They did not know its arrival by the waning light from above, for the place seemed unchanged in its gloom. Instead, they knew nightfall by the stilling of the black pool before them. The slow boiling of the foul waters ceased, and an unnatural quiet fell over the chamber. Even the falling water above seemed muted in its patter.

The companions sensed the change, and as one they assembled around the pool’s perimeter in pairs. Umur had his longsword in one hand, sturdy wooden shield in the other. Near him stood Haffoot, dancing side to side with one thin blade and one short, flat one. Joane and Briene likewise stood together. The tavernkeeper’s daughter gripped the ancient wolf-spear in sweaty palms, while the trembling healer notched an arrow in her bow. Erin held her long, curved dagger, while at her side Hilda cradled the pulsing orb in one hand.

“Remember,” Hilda said into the stillness of the moment. “We will use the net to bind it. Only once bound can it truly be slain.”

As the final word left her lips, the Hound of Hirot arrived.

In their first two battles, the party pretty much mopped the floor with the Hound. But here in its Lair it has almost twice as many hit points. It can also fly within this chamber, which the companions may soon discover. Let’s see how initiative goes… even though the party is awaiting the Hound, there will be no surprise for either side this time. Final boss fight, here we go!

The Hound gets a natural-20 on initiative and goes first. I’ll roll a d6 to see who it attacks first: I roll a 3, and going clockwise on my map that’s Joane. Makes total sense, since she’s wielding the wolf-spear.

It leaps towards Joane and tries to bite her, missing her AC by one with a [9+3] 12. Whew!

Joane is up next, and responds with a Deed Die roll of 2 but a miss at [7+1+2] 10.

Briene, next to her friend, backs up and fires her shortbow. She misses with a [3+1] 4 and, because she missed, rolls a 50% chance to target Joane instead. She rolls 28 on d100, then another attack roll on Joane. Thankfully, that roll also misses.

It’s been an anemic start, but Hilda knows this is a final boss battle and acts as all DCC wizards do in important moments: with spellburn. She is going to attempt to cast Invoke Patron, sacrificing a whopping 7 Stamina into the spell (bringing her from 15 to 8). To do so, first I need to roll a d4 on a special Ptah-Ungurath spellburn table. I get a 4–same as last time–which means that in addition to the cost of the spellburn, “for one brief moment, the caster sees all things as they really are. Although she cannot hold the vision, her soul is blasted by its perception. She is disoriented for the next 12 hours and suffers a -2 to all checks (not including this spell check) during that time.” Alright, Hilda… better make this one count!

Hilda rolls a [10+1+7] 18, and Haffoot contributes 1 point of Luck (bringing her score to 10), for another +2. That makes the check a 20 total, so she summons a freaking gargoyle to attack the Hound. Hell yeah! The summoned gargoyle has an AC of 21, 9 hit points, and does an impressive 2d8 with its claws at a +4 to attack. The gargoyle gets an immediate attack, and rolls a [14+4] 18, slashing for [3+1] 4 damage. Woo! She’ll also receive a +4 to any spell check next round, which will offset the dizziness of her spellburn.

Haffoot and Umur are all the way across the pool from the Hound, and both have less movement because of their short legs. They’ll spend their entire turns getting into the fray, or at least close enough that next turn they can move and attack.

Last in the first round is Erin. It worked so well last time, that she’ll run up to Briene’s side and attempt to cast Paralysis on her dagger. She does not have spellburn as an option, so it’s just a roll of pure faith. Erin rolls an 18 (+1 for her level, -1 for her Personality)! That result gives her: “The cleric’s weapons are charged with paralysis. The charge remains for 4 (d4+1, and I rolled a 3) rounds.” If she can get a hit in, this fight might again be over.

The creature did not rise slowly, like something newly birthed. Instead, it exploded from the still, black pool, sending ichor flying in all directions as it roared towards its target. That target was a wide-eyed Joane Cayhurst and her wolf-spear. The red-haired woman yelped and stepped back, avoiding the pony-sized beast as it landed in the mud. The Hound snarled and snapped with its jaws, oily black spraying from its fur and teeth. It looked larger than the two nights at the standing stones, and somehow more savage.

Hilda raised the orb overhead, its light now an eerie blue instead of white. A wind briefly swirled around her, rippling her robes and causing her hood to fall backwards. The black rectangle upon her forehead shone with the same blue light, matching the sphere in Hilda’s hand. She chanted in a language she did not understand, and, instead of avoiding the power pulling at her, she embraced it. Her body noticeably withered, becoming gaunt and gray where it had been plump and pale, as her chanting reached its climax.

In a flash of blue light, something emerged from the shadows beyond Joane and the Hound. It was human-sized, but with hunched shoulders, overlong arms, and enormous hands tipped by claws. The thing seemed to be made entirely of stone, and its face had neither eyes nor mouth, like a statue worn away by time and elements. Indeed, the Hound did not realize the stone creature was a threat until it had swung one of those large hands sideways, tearing at the Hound’s oily sides. The Hound snarled and snapped at the stone beast, and then its head swiveled around, eyes searching. For the first time since it had leapt from the pool, it seemed to realize the full number of intruders in its lair. Haffoot and Umur were making their way around the pool towards it one way while Erin circled the other.

The Hound rumbled a low, threatening growl. Its red eyes locked on Erin and her blade, which had begun to shine in its pale, holy light. It launched itself into the air, away from Joane and Hilda’s summoning, hurtling past Briene and directly at the cleric of Shul.

Round 2! The Hound is no dummy and has learned from the previous encounter that Erin and her paralysis are a true threat. It flies to Erin and bites at her, rolling a [9+3] 12 and missing her 14 AC. The party is getting pretty lucky here.

Joane charges and misses with a [10+1+2] 13, including a 2 on her Deed Die. Briene is now once again right next to the Hound. She yelps and flees to a far corner. Will she again shoot into melee? Yes. She rolls a pitiful [3+1] 4 (she’s just tragic at combat, it seems), then a 29 on d100, which means she now has to target one of her allies. Thankfully, the arrow flies well wide of Erin.

Hilda, dizzy, will use her turn to pull out Ymae’s magical net, eschewing the bonus to cast another spell. The gargoyle, meanwhile, will advance and slash, missing with a [5+4] 9.

The Hound has moved even further from Haffoot and Umur, so they again must spend their turns huffing up to it.

That leaves Erin, with her paralysis-imbued dagger. One hit could end the fight, but she rolls… a natural 1! Oh my. Thankfully, the fumble table results in the “best” possible result: “Your incompetent blow makes you the laughingstock of the party but otherwise causes no harm.”

In other words: Nothing happened that round! I may even skip describing this round entirely and pretend it didn’t happen. Let’s go to Round 3.

The Hound tries again to bite Erin, and again misses with a [5+3] 8. Since it doesn’t have to move (and to make the fight more interesting), I’ll also let it attack with a claw, but that too misses.

Joane rolls a 3 on her Deed Die and a [14+1+3] 18, hitting! Her deed will be to pin the Hound, requiring it to use its move to break free with a contested Strength check. Her damage with the spear is [2+1+3] 6. Good turn, Joane! And while the Hound is pinned, it can be killed (though it’s currently at 24 hp).

Briene misses widely (rolling a 3), but thankfully the shot doesn’t threaten any of her allies.

Hilda hands the net to Haffoot, stumbling away with dizziness. The gargoyle isn’t so calm, and rolls a [18+4] 22 to hit, dealing a whopping 11 damage.

Taking the net from Hilda, Haffoot will try to further bind the Hound. Even pinned, though, she misses with a [8+1] 9, even with a d24 to attack because of the Hound being pinned. Umur, meanwhile, rolls a 1 on his Deed die and misses with his longsword ([9+1+1] 11), but hits with his shield ([16+1] 17). He bashes the creature for 3 damage. The Hound is down to 10 hp, when Erin steps up and slashes, but she misses with a [10+1+1] 12.

Surprising them all, the Hound had not leapt at Erin. Unmistakably, it flew to her, massive jaws stretched wide. The cleric used her glowing dagger defensively, keeping the beast at bay while her companions moved around the pool to attack.

“Raaaargh!” Joane screamed, eyes wide and red-haired braid swinging madly. She brought the wolf-spear overhead with both hands and plunged it down, impaling the Hound and pinning it to the soft muck below. The crossbars on the wolf-spear did their job, and Joane put all her weight into keeping the creature held while it thrashed and snapped.

“While it’s pinned!” Briene shouted from the back of the cavern. She held the shortbow in her hand but felt incapable of firing into the frenzy of battle for fear of hitting her allies.

The stone monstrosity loomed at Joane’s shoulder. It brought both enormous fists overhead and slammed them down onto the Hound’s neck, eliciting a yelp of pain and snarl of hatred.

Haffoot, panting, finally made it to Hilda’s side, several steps from the melee. She blinked, startled at her friend’s loss of weight and vitality.

“Hilda! Are- are you alright?”

“Take,” the wizard gasped, then swooned with vertigo. She pulled forth the item from her satchel, a net made of hair that glowed like the embers of a fire. “Take this. Bind the beast.”

The halfling, wide-eyed, slammed both of her swords into their scabbards and reached for the net. “I’ll do it,” she nodded.

“Blast it all!” Umur thundered, stomping past them. He was the slowest of them with his short legs and heavy armor, and had been opposite the Hound, across the pool. Only now had he joined the battle. “I’ve got you now!” He yelled, shield held forward like a battering ram.

Round 4, and the Hound really needs to do something if it’s going to make this a fight. First, it must escape the wolf-spear. It rolls a Strength check of [14+3] 17. Can Joane beat that? She also rolls a 14, but with no modifier she cannot. The Hound breaks free of the spear, and attempts to chomp on Erin. It rolls a [14+3] 17, and does [4+3] 7 damage (Erin is down to 3 hp). I’ll say that it now has her in its maw, ready to throw her into the pool beyond.

Joane wants to re-pin the Hound, but only rolls a 1 on her Deed die. She does hit, though, with a [18+1+1] 20, dealing [5+1+1] 7 damage. Now both the Hound and Erin are at 3 hp.

Briene now has allies crowded all around the Hound. She does not feel she has a clear shot and waits.

Hilda, likewise, feels out of the fight with her dizziness. Her gargoyle rolls a [3+4] 7 and misses, which is just as well since the Hound can’t be killed unless bound. Indeed, I have a mischievous idea that if they kill it now, it will reemerge from the pool at full health.

Which means it’s Haffoot’s turn. She’ll use a single attack at d20 (instead of her twin blades at d16 each). She rolls a [12+1] 13 and would miss except that she’s a lucky Halfling. Haffoot will burn another point of Luck (bringing her to 9) for a +2. That brings the total to 15 and the Hound is officially snared.

Can her companions take advantage of the opportunity? Umur is up next and will roll with a d24 for his longsword and a d20 for his shield because of the net. He rolls a paltry 1 on his Deed die, but it’s enough, with a [13+1+1] 15, he strikes the Hound for 5 damage and kills it.

Wow. This fabled Hound of Hirot was sort of a chump in three battles. I’m starting to see how hard it is for a single opponent to challenge a party who can spellburn and Luck their way into controlling the battle. Then again, they were well prepared, rested, and had two means of binding the Hound. Win for the good guys!

Roaring, the Hound stood. The movement threw Joane aside like a ragdoll. The wolf-spear still protruded from its back. But it was no longer pinned.

In a flash, its enormous jaws closed around Erin. She yelled out in pain as it worried and tore at her with its jagged teeth, each nearly as long as her glowing dagger.

“No!” Hilda yelled weakly. “Haffoot, the net!”

“Heeeyah!” the halfling whooped, leaping up and throwing the strange net up and over the Hound’s flank. Haffoot twisted as she jumped, tangling two of the creature’s legs. It was a wholly lucky throw, yet no less effective. Indeed, the magical net seemed to hug the Hound tighter, further hampering its movement. The glowing embers of its strands contrasted with the deep black of the beast’s coat.

Umur stepped past Haffoot and stabbed. Councilwoman Leda Astford’s ancestral longsword, the item that had pulled Umur Pearlhammer from a sedentary life in Graymoor back into a quest for his homeland, plunged into the neck of the Hound, past its oily, thick fur. Black blood erupted from the wound, and the Hound howled out, dropping Erin from its maw. At first the sound was a wailing despair, but it quickly became a whimper and, finally, an almost human-like sigh. When Umur pulled his blade free, the creature had ceased moving. As the companions all watched in horrified wonder, it began to dissolve into oily sludge, like rapidly melting black ice within the glowing net.

The battle may not yet be over. Although the Hound is defeated, Hilda’s spell reads “The gargoyle remains on the field until slain, or until CL (1) minute passes, or until there are no longer any opponents in sight. The caster must then roll a d20 under her Luck; if she succeeds, the gargoyle flies away. If the caster fails, the gargoyle turns on the caster and his allies.

This Ptah-Ungurath is a kick in the pants as a patron, isn’t he? Alright, so Hilda’s Luck score is currently 10, so it’s a 50/50 chance. She rolls a 7. Whew. Combat over.

The stone creature that Hilda had summoned loomed over the dissipating form of the Hound, seeming to examine it. Then it stood and, with a grunt that sounded like two boulders crashing together, two enormous stone wings erupted from its back like insects hatching free. Joane cried out in surprise as one of those wings pushed her aside. The creature then turned its eyeless, stone gaze upwards, hunched its legs, and launched itself into the air. It flew awkwardly, almost like a bat carrying something too heavy. The group of adventurers gaped as the thing flapped its way to the mouth of the sinkhole and then disappeared into the darkness above.

Hilda, gaunt and gray, watched the stone monstrosity rise. As it vanished from sight, the glowing black rectangle on her forehead went dark, her eyes rolled up in their sockets, and she fainted into the mud.

The Hound had almost completely dissolved, now nothing more than a mound of black sludge. Next to it, Erin groaned, rolling to her knees. Blood spattered from her lips as she coughed. Her dagger lay nearby, discarded and no longer alight with its divine aura.

“Erin!” Umur gasped, shaking himself out of the shock at seeing the stone creature fly off. He dropped to his knees next to the cleric.

“I’m alright,” she coughed weakly. “Just give me a moment.”

Lay on Hands check! Erin rolls an 8, which is a failure and increases her Disapproval chance from a natural 1 only to a dice roll of 1-2. I think perhaps Shul wasn’t too keen on providing his power to her dagger and having it go unused, plus Erin’s failure to do even a point of damage to this embodiment of Chaos.

She closed her eyes, murmuring between coughs. Her companions expected Shul’s power to heal the cleric, as had happened earlier that day in the fens. Instead, Erin’s coughs kept interrupting the prayer, and she shook her head in frustration. Then she, too, fainted, bleeding, her inert body slumping next to Hilda’s.

“Blast it all to the Nine Hells,” Umur swore. “Briene! Get over here, lass! We need a healer!”

Joane gasped. “Briene! No!”

Umur and Haffoot turned at the exclamation. Then they too cried out, as Briene Byley, her face a mask of concentration, waded to the center of the corrupted, black pool.

DCC Character Level 1: Briene Byley