The first three episodes of The Legend of Vox Machina were just released on Amazon Prime Video. The show is based on the first campaign of “Critical Role”; a Dungeons and Dragons live play podcast and twitch stream. So far three episodes have been released; it is difficult to judge whether or not the show is good, but it seems to be heading in the right direction.
I am a fan of the animation, the voice acting is great as was expected, and the music score is amazing. The fight scene music, for example, elevates the combat to epic levels. I love the violent and adult tone this show takes on. Lots of people die and the show does not hide adult themes. There is nudity, sex, and lots of drinking. I would argue that it would be impossible to tell this story without addressing any of these themes.
My only complaint with this show is the fan service. It isn’t bad. This show only exists because there was enough interest from the fans. It is only natural for a show like this to have fan service because it is a sign of gratitude. My problem is that I worry the fan service might be alienating for those who aren’t familiar with “Critical Role.” There are jokes, characters, and scenes that won’t make sense without some knowledge of the source material. There is a random character in this show who mumbles and shows up a few times that looks like Matt Mercer. His presence isn’t problematic, but people who don’t know who he is will gloss over his presence as a random character who just exists.
The show also requires some knowledge of 5th edition Dungeons and Dragons.” Understanding the rules help understand how magic works or explains why some scenes play out the way they do. Having an understanding of both the show and the rules of the game help provide a more meaningful experience, although it isn’t necessarily required. I feel that there are enough of these references to issue a warning. Keep in mind that this show is written for a specific type of fan.
This show is character-focused. The plot and its development rely heavily on character action and growth. The story is based on a game where the players drive the narrative so it makes sense that the focus is on the characters. These characters are not perfect. They are rude, selfish, and famously unpopular. I love that they fail consistently; it allows them to grow and develop as heroes. The characters start the show flawed and that is okay because they grow. They are not the same characters by the end of the third episode, although there is a lot of room for improvement.
So far, this is a pretty cool animated series. It is adult and gory; be warned if that doesn’t appeal to you. I fear that the fan service might prove a bit alienating to the uninitiated, but the story is solid enough to be watchable. You will need to do a bit of research to understand certain moments in the show, but you will be fine without it. It is a pretty solid show if you like Dungeons and Dragons. As a fan of the first campaign, I’m enjoying it so far.
The Party that Saved Christmas – Part 2
Mr. Duke laughs loudly. This sudden outburst catches the party off guard. He quickly gathers his suitcase and addresses the party “Splendid! We don’t have time to waste. Follow me. I’ll explain more on the way.”
The party follows Mr. Duke into the busy corridor. Phones ring over frantic voices. People seem to run up and down the hall in a hurry. People don’t take notice of the party as they walk by, most busy with their own tasks.
“As you can see, things here are a bit hectic. We have been asking other nations for aid in the matter, but most leaders are more concerned with the safety within their own borders. I don’t blame them. It’s not a threat most take seriously, that is why you have to be enough. This is a very big ask, but you are the only hope we have” He continues to walk as the party walks behind him quickly.
“What happens if we don’t stop this threat? Why is the north pole so important”
Mr. Duke stops and turns to the party. He has a serious look on his face. “There are magical items, artifacts, secrets hidden from the rest of the world for our protection. If they were to get in the wrong hands, it would mean the end of modern civilization. Wars would break out. Millions will die. Empires will burn and from their ashes, evil and chaos will bloom. I hope I don’t have to keep convincing you on the importance of your mission”
Mr. Duke pauses and assesses the party’s reaction. Euphemia scribbles away as quick as her little hand can carry the pen. Hox and Aus look onto him with a mixture of interest and concern. Belyis has raised her hood and stares at the ground nervously.
“There is a bigger plan in motion here but we haven’t been able to figure this out” Mr. Duke continues “All I know…all we know is that you need to save Christmas. Am I being clear?”
“Yes,” the party responds. Hox’s tail twitches behind him. Aus scratches behind his head nervously.
“Good” Mr. Duke continues as he turns and resumes his pace. ” You will be teleported about an hour out of the south of Santa’s Village. That’s the closest we can get. You will be given clothes for the weather and a few items that might help you with the journey. You are going in blind. We can show you the layout of the village but unfortunately, we don’t know who is leading this attack or how they are defending the city”
They stop inside a small elevator. Mr. Duke presses a code into the keypad and the elevator begins its descent. He turns to the party with a serious look on his face. “There is something out there blocking out communications and our mages haven’t been able to scry. You will be alone out there”
“This is getting harder and harder to get motivated for” Aus replies
“It isn’t an ideal situation. You will need to find whatever is jamming our magic and report to us. But your priority is saving Santa”
An awkward silence fills the elevator. The party looks at each other, but no words are exchanged. The elevator comes to a stop after a moment of silence. The doors open revealing a large open space filled with metal tables, shelves, and racks full of different tools and weapons. People move franticly, working diligently making weapons or mixing chemicals. Mr. Duke walks out of the elevator at a hurried pace. The party follows suit, fascinated by the myriad of items scattered throughout the room. There are oddly shaped swords that hang lazily on beaten racks. There are staffs with intricate carvings of animals or runes engraved with shinning gemstones. There are bows made from rare woods strung with a material that shines in the room’s dim light. There are tables where the rolled-up scrolls spill over, almost falling to the floor. There are heavy hammers, menacing maces, and dangerous daggers. The small forge at one end of the room blazes away hammer bang against hot steal.
The party passes sections where beakers are full of odd-colored liquids. Burners push hot flame against rounded glass containers, slowly bringing its contents to a boil. A small woman swirls a mixture between her fingers, it changes from red to purple. The smell of sulfur and something bitter fills the air. There are shelves lined with jars full of odd objects. A troll’s hand floats against one while the jar next to it is filled with dried bat wings.
Passed all these tables, at the far side of the room, there is a large magic circle. It’s made of red paint. There are strange symbols that seem to be randomly integrated into their pattern. There are candles that break up the pain, evenly spaced. Mr. Duke stops in front of the circle. “Before you step into the circle, there are a few items I would like to give you.” An elf man walks up to Mr. Duke carrying with him a basket with vials filled with different color liquids.
“We didn’t have much time so you will have to make due. Each of you will get a healing potion. You only get one, use them wisely. This” he says as he pulls up a green potion “is a potion of haste. It will give you a bit more energy but when it wears off you will feel the worst you have ever felt. And this” he says as he pulls out a vial with light blue liquid with silver specks that move slowly through the liquid “is a potion of invisibility. We are not sure about the side-effects. Use at your own discrection. Thank you Calvin.” The elf nods and walks away.
A dirty female dwarf walks up next. She drags behind her a wagon full of different weapons and winter clothes. “We weren’t sure of your measurements but our tailor is pretty good at guessing. This should keep you warm. There are snow shoes to help with the travel. We also took the liberty of crafting a few items to update your arsenal. We have finely crafter armor you can change into” The party starts grabbing the clothes and armor, searching for their sizes.
“For your Aus, we made a bow made from the a very strong wood. Take this quiver of arrows. Each has a magic ability but unfortunately we don’t quite know what they do. You only get 10. And for the rest of you…”
“Let me stop you right there mister” Euphemia interrupts. She taps at the hilt of her bejeweled rapier “This sword has been in my family for generations. If it was good enough for my grandma during the great Silverfoot clan wars, it is good enough for me”
Hox nods as he squeezes his staff. “Yes Hox don’t need new staff. This staff is best staff!”
“Well, I suppose that is fine.” He turns to Belyis who stands behind the party and stares at her feet “And my shy Teifling there only uses her hands to fight from what I understand” Belyis turns red and nods shyly. She says something inaudible. Mr. Duke clasps his hands together. “Well when you are ready, step into the circle. The quicker the better”
The party takes the time to change into warm clothes. Each with a thick cloak with a hood lined with fur. They wear heavy black boots and thick padded pants. They make their way to the center of the circle. They are silent as they get to the center.
“Thank you. This is a lot I am asking you. Be safe, strike true, come back come alive” Mr. Duke presses his hands on the ground. The circle begins to glow until it is a solid white glowing circle. The party begins to sink down into the light. Slowly until the last one disappears into the light. The light fades. People have stopped working and stare at the empty circle. “May the gods protect you”
The Party That Saved Christmas – Part 1
It is snowing in the town of Drecshire. It creates a thin layer over freshly shoveled paths. The Conroy Taffy company building sits at the center of this busy town. Today, however, the streets are empty except for the few people who must run out to finish some errands. It is Christmas eve and the town is quiet, except of course for Conroy Taffy Company.
Inside the Conroy Taffy building, people through the halls. The phones are ringing none stop and everything is abuzz with the cacophony of frantic conversations.
On the top floor, inside a small windowless conference room sleeps a young white-feathered Aarakocra. His chair leans against the wall. His bow sits to his left and a small quiver lies to his right. He snores softly as his wings twitch occasionally but they remain snuggling his body. His worn leather armor looks dull against his plumage.
The room has bare walls except for a small black clock on the north side of the room. It ticks away quietly. Aside from the clock, there is a small rounded wooden table with the seven remaining chairs arranged neatly around it.
A small hooded figure walks into the room. A small crimsoned scaled hand carries a simple staff that reaches above the creature’s head. A red pierced tale follows suit. The Aarakocra jolts from his sleep, grabbing at his bow. The hooded figure raises his hands out in defense. “Sorry sorry, I mean no threat,” Says the hooded figure as he removes the cloak revealing a Kobold.” My name is Hox. I am here for mission. You give mission?” The Aarakrocra is stunned by the Kobold’s presence.
The Kobold is a bright crimson color. His eyes are a bright yellow. His ears are pierced and they twitch nervously as they wait for the Aarakocra to answer. On his face, odd symbols run down his cheeks almost like tears. Hox’s chest rises and falls quickly.
The Aarakocra relaxes. He puts his bow on the ground and retakes his seat. “Sorry, bud. It’s a reflex. They call me Aus. I’m here for the quest too”
“Do you know what quest is?” Hox asks, also relaxing as he takes his seat next to Aus.
Aus shakes his head as he closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. His yellow beak shines under the lights. “Not a clue”
Hox calms as he walks towards Aus. “This is strange no? We no have no information”
Aus nods “yeah but” he is cut off midsentence as the door opens once again. The two turn to the small figure at the door. A brown-skinned halfling walks in. Her raven black hair comes to just past her shoulders. She wears clothes made with the finest fabrics. Her ears are pierced with diamond earrings. A small gold necklace hangs from her neck with a tiny pendant at the end. Gold bangles hang from her arms and they jingle as they walk. She walks in with the grandeur and elegance of a noble. On her right, a rapier with a jewel-encrusted hilt bounces against her hip. On her left, nestled in her belt is a small pan flute.
She looks at the two characters who watch her curiously before saying “Good, I am not the smallest one here. My name is Euphemia Hogscallar. It is a pleasure!” She smiles as she makes her way to the two. They shake hands and introduce themselves.
“Do you have quest for us?” Hox asks. His nostrils catch a whiff of her sweet perfume. His tail wags slowly. His mouth begins to water.
“Me?” Euphemia asks curiously “I am here for the quest. I don’t know anything else. I was only told a time and place.”
“That’s odd” Aus adds. Looking at the clock on the wall. “Well I guess we keep waiting”
Not much later, the door opens one more time. This time a purple Tiefling walks in with a bewildered and startled look on her face. She has slightly darker purple ram horns that wrap around on either side of her head. She has a few piercings. Four on each ear. A small stud on the bridge of her nose. Four 4 studs go across her forehead. Her eyes are pitch black. She quickly averts her gaze away from the party.
She wears simple cotton clothes. Her shirt is sleeveless. Tribal tattoos run down both her shoulders into cloth wrappings that go from her knuckles to almost her elbow. Her shoes are worn, thin, and dirty. The number four is tattooed on the right side of her neck. “I’m” she begins softly, barely audible. “I’m he-here for the um quest.” Her voice shakes. Her eyes stare at her shoes. She rubs her right forearm nervously.
Euphemia walks up to the Tiefling. “Well, you are in the right place!” Euphemia’s voice is booming in comparison. She reaches up and grabs the Tiefling’s hand. Her hand is much smaller as it wraps around two of the fingers. She pulls the Tiefling deeper into the conference room. The Tiefling follows reluctantly.
“Well this is Aus and Hox and I,” she says letting go of the hand and turning to the Tiefling “am Euphemia. It is a pleasure to meet you! What’s your name?”
The Tiefling glows red. She averts her gaze and stares at the floor. “My…um..my name is Bel…Belyis. Nice to meet you.” Her voice is a whisper, almost inaudible.
“You’re a shy one aren’t you. Can’t say I’ve ever met a shy Tiefling before” Euphemia replies.
“Well aren’t we a strange collection of heroes. A kobold, an Aarakroca, a halfing and Tiefling. Sounds like there might be a joke in there somewhere. I can’t say I want to find out the punchline.” says Aus as he scratches his head, examining his partners.
“Trust me, as someone who tells jokes for a living. If this is a joke, it’s probably a really good one!” Euphemia says as she turns to Aus.
Before anyone could answer, the door opens. A man with dark glasses and a neatly ironed grey suit walks in. His brown skin is covered in old faded scars. He carries with him a suitcase. He pulls out a gold plane pocket watch from his pocket and checks the time. He sets down the briefcase and opens it.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice. I am sure you have a lot of questions, please save them till the end. I have a lot to go over and we don’t have a lot of time. Please take a seat” The party arranges themselves around the strange man.
“You can call me Mr. Duke. I am what you might call a middle man. I contract people with special skills, such as yourselves, to fix problems and clean up messes. You have been hand-selected because you have a particular set of skills that will prove useful to us.” He pulls out a stack of folders from the briefcase. Folders thick with documents and pictures. He throws them on the table between the party. On the front of the folders is a sticker with a phoenix and the words “The Ministry for Magical Defense”
“At 0600 we received an emergency transmission from the North Pole.” Mr. Duke pulls out a crystal ball from the case and sets it gently on the table in front of the party. He taps it twice. A dim light shines around where his finger taps the glass. The ball begins to fill with thick purple smoke.
When the ball is full, an image of a bloodied dirty halfling appears. “My name is Finmin Goldwood. My team and I were sent here on a rescue mission. Santa is in trouble. Our transport was shot down at the edge of Santa’s Village. We…” Loud banging from away stops him mid-sentence. “My team is dead. The toys are alive. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s as if..”
More banging stops him mid-sentence. There is the sound of wood cracking slightly. “We tried to make our way through the city, but it’s overrun with living toys. They hunted us down” The banging gets more violent. “There might still be people held up in the workshop. Whatever this is, whoever unleashed this evil must be stopped.” More banging. The sound of wood breaking is clear. “If you get this, I am already dead. Please hurry. Save Santa.” The ball goes black and the smoke fades to nothing.
“Communications have gone dark since. Your mission is to infiltrate Santa’s village and figure out what the hell is going on. Now, this isn’t going to be easy. You are going in blind and alone. If anything goes wrong, you are on your own.”
“Um,” Aus asks as he raises his hand “what exactly are we doing?”
“It’s a rescue mission. You are there to save Santa”
The party looks at each other in confusion.
Seeing the confusion on everyone’s faces, Mr. Duke adds “Yes. Santa is rea. Set whatever you beliefs aside and focus. This is your mission. Everything you need to know… Everything we know is in those folders.” He leans up against the table and looks at the party. “So what do you say? Will you help us?”
Hox grins as his tale wages wildly behind him. “Think of all new things out there. I’ll help. Hox will help!”
Euphemia and Aus flip through the documents. Studying them carefully. Euphemia is the first to speak. “Can I have the book rights to this little venture?”
“You’ll have to change a few things and submit it for approval but as long as you don’t mention me or the Ministry of Magical Defense, there shouldn’t be an issue.” Mr. Duke replies.
Aus puts down the stacks of papers. “I don’t like this. What is the Ministry of Magical Defense? Why don’t we have more back up?”
“The Ministry of Magical Defense is a secret organization that was created to deal with world-ending threats” Mr. Duke explains.
“You’re sending us to deal with a world-ending threat?” Aus asks.
“Yes”
Aus leans back on his chair and takes a deep breath. “You’re asking for a lot. We just met you. You expect us to just drop everything and go on some suicide mission?”
Mr. Duke clears his throat. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. I wish we had more time. I wish we could ease you in better. I wish we could send a bigger team but this is the best we can do with the time we have. It’s not going to be easy, but it needs to be done. If you want to leave, there’s the door. Just know this. This isn’t just some isolated incident. If those toys finish their business, they will spread to the rest of the world. We need to get a handle on this before it gets out of control. We did the math, you guys are the best shot we have at nipping this in the bud”
Aus’s Talons scratch at the floor. He shakes his head. “I don’t like it.” He goes silent as he thumbs through the pages “If there’s no other way. I guess you can count me in.”
“There isn’t” Mr. Duke replies. He turns to Belyis who is watching from her corner of the table. “That just leaves you”
The party turns to her too. Belyis who had returned to her natural purple color turns red again. She averts her eyes. “Um,” she says, her voice a squeak. “I don’t know. I don’t um…”
Euphemia walks up to Belyis. She looks up at her with a sweet smile. “What do you say Bel? Do you want to be part of the team?”
Belyis’s face burns with embarrassment. “Sure,” says her whisper.
Euphemia claps and giggles with glee. “Yay! We’re going to be such good friends!” She wraps her arms as much around Belyis as she can and squeezes her. Belyis’s face is frozen with fear and confusion. Her face glows red from the embarrassment.
“A strange Kobold, a loud Halfling, a shy Tiefling, and an Aarakroca walk into Santa’s Village. You’re right. This is a pretty good joke”
The Mad Mage Chronicles: Chapter 9
The party finds themselves in endless darkness as they walk through a tunnel that snakes with little reason. The dim light from the cursed sword guides the party. The light looks almost sicky down. It washes over hastily made scaffolds. Careful cautious footsteps propel the party through the darkness. Their hands clench at their weapons. The air is stale down here. Musty from the lack of flow. It is hard to breath in places, almost suffocating.
It seems hopeless. An endless journey down unknown darkness. The party debates on returning and giving up but they never do. They round one last bend and are greeted with strange dim light. Footsteps quicken as the source reveals another room.
The tunnel empties into a large walled room. The walls have begun to crumble, leaving scattered piles of ancient discarded brick. At the center of the room there is a statue that is buried up to its shoulders. It’s face has degraded over time making it unrecognizable.
There are clear signs of heavy traffic in this room. There are deep wheel wells that seem to flow against the same path. There are dark dirty foot prints all about the room. There are small pieces of discarded trash and food scraps that have been left behind. Whatever moves through here, does so often.
“I wonder how long we’ll be alone” Gorak asks Roakala as he studies a fresh set of foot prints. He points at them “these look fresh”
Roakala nods in agreement as the rest of the party watches curiously. “We should keep moving then” Roakala responds, taking the lead once more. There are three ways out of this room. The one they came in and two on either side of the room. Rokala takes one hesitant step forward before turning to the group “Which way princess?”
Diljaris shakes her head as a small smile begins to form at the corners of her mouth. “I’m not a princess” she says as her tail twitches “You can choose this one”
Roakala studies both exits carefully. She looks at the trails and the signs for a few minutes before she turns to Drugnar and asks “You mind flipping your coin again?”
Drugnar is visibly shocked by the question. He chuckles as he reaches for the coin. “Well don’t you know how to keep things interesting?” The coin gleams in his hand as he thumbs it between his fingers. Heads we go left, tails we go right” Everyone nods and he flips the coin. “Heads”
The party moves through more of the ancient dungeon. The next room they arrive at is a prison. Rusted chains hang from the wall. Two cages hang from the ceiling. One still holds it’s captive, rotted and wilted to almost nothing but rags and bits of bone and dust. Against the wall lies another creature. It looks like a man. His flesh has begun to rot away in the parts where the rats haven’t nibbled at. He wears the tethers of a fine robe that now clings loosely off his body. The rusting shackles that bind him to the wall he leans against have melded with the skin on his wrist. Above the figure, in deep dark red letters there is a message that reads “Talk to me please!”
The party moves past the skeleton with the intent to move forward.
“Wait” says Drugnar as he stops near the figure “Shouldn’t we see what he wants?”
“What who wants?” Diljaris twitches her head in confusion.
“Our long departed friend here. He might have some good information” Drugnar says pointing at the corpse.
“Interesting” Diljaris says as her tail begins to wag in excitement “Can you speak with the dead”
“I sure can” Drugnar replies
“OH!” Diljaris cannot hide the excitement in her voice. “How exciting. I’ve read about this spell but I’ve never actually seen it in person.” She digs through her bag for her journal and moves close to Drugnar. Opening it to a new page, she begins jotting down notes.
Roakala turns to Gorak with a concerned look on her face. “Is this a good idea”
Gorak has already began go get comfortable. Sitting down for a moment while still keeping a careful eye in each direction. He nods at the question “It’s a thing he likes to do. It’s his duty to help lost souls find their way to the afterlife or something. He just asks some questions and then they are on their way”
Roakala steps away from Drugnar. With her sword drawn, she stands against the wall eyeing the dwarf closely.
Drugnar closes his eyes. He mumbles something incoherent before he opens his eyes. From his pocket he produces a small plain bronze tin. There are small scratches and dents all along its face. He pops it open to reveal it to be filled with black powder. “My friend” he begins as he dips the his thumb into the powder. “With this earth I tie your soul to this plane one last time.” He draws a circle on the figures forehead. His face is sunken in and his eyes are gone. “Let the earth mother bring you to us so you can see this world once more.” He underlines his sunken eyelids with thick black lines of soot. He moves to his mouth as he draws a long smile, one that reaches ear to ear. “Let the earth mother give you breath so that you may speak”
His hand moves back to the corpse’s forehead and presses his thumb against the black circle. “Spirit! Heed my call. Come forth and take your form. Earth mother, grant me the power to pull this poor soul from this darkness and help me deliver him to the light”
At first, nothing happens. The room is deathly silent. Then, a light begins to glow. First from under Drugnar’s thumb, then from the other markings. There is a light creaking sound that comes from the figure as he begins to shift and jolt in his seat. A few awkward twitches and he moves upright suddenly. The markings glow white as the figure sits up right on his own. The chains rattle as he tries to stand up. He looks around, his glowing eyes never blinking.
“Good morning my friend” Drugnar greets the man.
The figure says nothing at first. Instead he begins to inspect himself. He shakes his shackled arms. He wiggles what is left of his toes. He studies the room and the strangers that occupy it. The silence goes on for a moment before his raspy dry voice lets out “Well shit. I died.”
D&D Homebrew: Jafar the Boss Fight
I want to take the time to write about one of the boss fights I just conducted in hopes that it might inspire some of you in your future endeavors. As always, notes and suggestions are always welcome. I want to become better at what I do.
The boss was Jafar, master of illusions and the leader of the Red Scorpions Gang. The party was tasked with taking out this gang by a rival gang. The task was simple enough, and as far as fights went, they were able to get to Jafar rather quickly. Bodies began to pile around the PC’s and when victory seemed eminent, the field changes and they are transported to another realm where they are once again surrounded by members of the Red Scorpions who are hungry for blood.
To understand how I ran this encounter you need to understand a bit about the composition of my group. It breaks down into two parts, those who metagame and min max and those who don’t and play to chill. There is nothing wrong with either playstyles but it does create a few issues. The first has to do with the balancing of the encounter. Often, if I go by the cr guides in the book, the min maxers kill everything before everyone else gets the chance to play. Makes combat kind of boring when everyone is just supporting the person who watched a video on how to break the game.
The other issue that arises is the meta gaming. Players who min max at my table treat the whole thing like a game they need to win. Again nothing wrong with that but it does create a cycle that is quite repetitive. RP always ends with the min maxer being a jerk because he can back it up and boss fights always end anti climatically because everyone empties their clip on the boss.
To combat this I created an encounter where every enemy on the field was the boss. For this encounter I had a general HP pool that the players could chip away at by attacking any enemy. The enemies all had 1 hp so that they would go down easily. For AC I used 12 for magic casters, 14 for scouts or ranged fighters, and 16 for melee. Other than that, use real stats from the monster manual for attacks, abilities, and saves.
At my table this created a situation where they were busy either fighting the “scraps” or emptying everything they had on the boss with the minions quickly closing in on them. What ended up happening was that they ended up surrounded by the minions and started taking a lot of damage due to the advantage they gained from flanking. The solution here would be taking out the minions because all the damage done to the minions, even if the hp is 1, goes against the general pool. So if a player does 10 damage to a minion, the whole unit takes 10 damage. For my encounter I used 300 because that was reasonable for my party.
This helps with the meta gaming because no one knows what is going on. The other more positive effect is that everyone gets a chance to feel important. Everyone at my table had an opportunity to describe a kill and have the satisfaction of contributing instead of it revolving around the one or two characters who built more optimally.
Now the other aspect of this encounter was the changing environment. After a certain amount of turns, I did 1d6 turns, the field would change. This also resulted in more minions to fight and everyone was moved to a different location on the map. I chose random maps that I thought would be fun to use but you can stick to a theme. I picked 6 different maps and had the player who goes after the scene change to roll to see what map we got. I like leaving things to chance, but you can do this however you want. It is important to note that the boss is smart enough to place the players in a way that gives the boss advantage. Close combat pc’s get sent to the back for example. This keeps combat fresh and gives you a fresh pool of minions to work with.
Overall I think it went well. My players really enjoyed the map changing. The only thing I would change is maybe describing what happens with the minions to give them a chance to figure out the mechanic on their own. My players really enjoyed this fight although my min maxers were a bit annoyed by the combat until I explained the mechanic. I have no issue with min maxing, I just have players with different goals and experience. It isn’t fun for one person in the party to do all the work while you are trying to learn the game. The idea wasn’t to nerf anyone, but rather to create an encounter where everyone felt they contributed equally and it would still be a more epic fight than the usual encounter.
As for monster stats, you can use whatever you want. I found these to be sufficient:
This worked well enough. My party is level 6 at the moment and they had no problem facing him. The charm spell was underwhelming though, I think full mind control with a chance of saving at the end of the turn would have been a lot better. As for legendary actions I gave him a fireball that did 4d6 damage and two force attacks that do 1d8 force damage. For his main action I tried to charm but the charm was a waste of a turn it felt like.
This part is optional. At the end, when the pool goes to zero, the illusion drops and the party returns to the original room. I did this battle theater of the mind, but you can run it with a map. Jafar then turns into a massive fire genie who is 20 ft tall and has a large range. He has an explosive fire attack that does fireball damage and 2 melee swipe attacks that can knock a player prone on a failed strength save. You can do Hp for this one but I like to make it hits. After a number of hits, Jafar runs out of magic and turns back human. This is completely optional but I did it because it made sense in my story.
Let me know what you think. I would love any suggestions to make this encounter better.
The Mad Mage Chronicles: Chapter 7
A new party and a task at hand
This story is part of a larger series based on the published adventure The Dungeon of the Mad Mage. There are spoilers.
When the party emerges from the dark and dank underbelly, the yawning portal is alive with music and drunken singing. There is an overwhelming air of celebration that seems to teeter around the room, floating along with the clouds of cigar smoke. They inch through the crowd slowly as the clusters of drunkards make movement difficult. Eventually they find a table, at the center of the cackling crowded chaos. A bar maid makes her way to the tired group who order food and a round of drinks.
Food and drink arrives that the table. Roakala rests her head between her arms. Diljaris has settled in her area with books and journals neatly surrounding her. Drugnar and Gorak polish their weapons. “So what do we do now princess?” Gorak asks Diljaris who scribbles furiously in her journal. Food and drink comes. The barmaid places six large bowls of rice and curry at the center of the table. Next to the plates of food, she places two large pitcher of ale. Foam spills over the side, creating a small ring around the base of the pitcher. The barmaid leaves 5 full flagons of ale. Drugnar tips the waitress a silver. The barmaid surprised by the generosity winks and says “Let me know if y’all need anything else. Im closing out this place.” She places the coin gingerly in her pocket as she almost skips with joy away from the party.
Diljaris without looking up from her work “I am not a princess”. She continues to scribble until finally she looks up and replies “We need to find work”
“I thought you had work?” Gorak replies
“No, I was looking for a party to find work with. Now that I have a party, we need to find work. I think we should start with the barkeep, he might have some leads”
Drugnar stands up “Shall we?” he says as he motions towards the bar
“Of course” Diljaris responds.
“I’m good” Gorak responds as he takes a long swig from the flagon. Roakala is too busy eating to respond. The two move towards the crowd, pushing their way through the crowd.
The two make it to the bar. Gorak pushes a pair of patrons aside to make room for them. The barkeep moves around them, quickly haning out filled flagons until finally he stops in front of the two. “What are ya havin?”He puts an old dirty towel over his right shoulder. His beard is freshly trimmed. His apron is also clean and neat.
Drugnar clears his throat and starts “First I would like to commend you on running such a fine establishment. I have been to many taverns in my long Drwarven lifetime but this has to be one of the best. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Drugnar Stormhammer and my scaly associate here is Diljaris Eshbis. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now before we waste any more of your precious time, we would like to inquire on any business opportunities you might have or know about for a group of brave and capable adventurers”
The large burly man sighs “If you want work, go ask Obaya. He’s sitting over there. He’s always looking for adventurers. Now are you gunna buy something or not? I’m kind of busy”
“Yes can I get a flagon of your finest ale?” Drugnar asks smiling widely.
The barkeep pulls out a small barrel from under the bar. He fills a clear glass flagon to the rim with a golden clear ale. He places it on the bar as the foam settles. “Anything else?” the barkeep asks with clear dred in his voice.
“No you have been very helpful. We appreciate the information. Thank you” Drugnar replies as he slides a gold coin towards the bar keep. The barkeep is stunned by the sudden act of generosity. “Come back whenever you need anything you hear”
Obaya is a black human male whose permanent resident is at the nicest booth in the yawning portal. Today he is surrounded by a group of laughing nicely dressed individuals. Obaya himself is adorned with the finest silk robes that have been hand stitched to specifically fit his frame. His finely ordained hat hides his wavy locks that shine when they manage to escape and touch the light. His golden brown eyes search the bar as he weaves together the tales that seem to always have his company in an uproar.
As the two walk towards Obaya. Obaya takes notice but doesn’t break from conversation. When they get within earshot, Obaya grin with genuine warmth, greets the pair “You look like you have a question for old Obaya. What can I do for you my friends?”
Drugnar steps forward “Good evening Mr. Obaya, we only want a moment of your time. My name is Drugnar Stormhamer and my beautiful scaly friend here is Diljaris Eshbish. We are travelling with a group of very capable adventurers and we hear you have a bit of work for dungeon delving folk like us”
“Well my well spoken friend, I am a travelling merchant and I deal in the strange and the magical. If you can bring me any magic items or spell books, I’ll take it off your hands for a bit of coin”
“Hi” Diljaris finally speaks up “how much do you pay for each magic item?”
“10 platinum per magic item. More if depending on how rare it is. How’s that sound?”
The two are taken aback by Obaya’s words. They are clearly dazed by the reply. They remain silent as time continues. “Well?” Obaya asks again, still smiling patiently.
“Well Mr. Obaya, it looks like you have yourself a deal. We look forward to doing business with such a generous patron” Drugnar finally responds as he extends his hand out towards Obaya.
Obaya laughs loudly and his guests join in. “You flatter me Drugnar but no need to be so formal. I am just a regular guy. Please, just Obaya is fine.” He stands up and extends both hands out “I look forward to working with you too as well.” They shake hands. Obaya smiles warmly. “Oh but you have to promise me one thing.”
“And that is?” Diljaris asks
“Don’t go dying on my account please”
The two laugh “We can assure you, you there won’t be any dying from us, I’ve brought together a very capable group” Diljaris replies. The two turn and make their way back to the table. Guidy with excitement at the possible prospects they were just promised.
Back at the table, Roakala and Groroak eat and drink in silence. Roakala continues to scarf down a bowl of food. One lies empty in front of her. Gorak drinks in silence, lost in thought. When Diljaris and Drognar come back, they don’t notice, but instead seem lost in food and drink.
“Good news!” Diljaris addresses the table, breaking their concentration “our wise Drugnar was able to find us work”
“What’s the job?” Gorak asks, putting down his flagon of ale.
“There’s a man in here that buys magic items, 10 platinum a piece. This dungeon has to be loaded with magical items” Drugnar adds.
“Yeah but how often do you think we’ll be finding magic items?” Gorak asks, sounding a bit skeptical.
“Well we did find a magic sword on our first trip down” Diljaris reminds Gorak.
Yeah don’t forget about Janice” Roakala adds, breaking her silence. She places the magic sword in the table. It glows faintly even under the candle light. The two empty bowls resonate from the impact.
“Isn’t it cursed?” Gorak reminds the group.
Roakala shrugs her shoulders “It still counts as magic”
“Maybe we should sell the sword” Gorak says as his hand slowly moves towards the blade.
Roakala snatches the blade off the table, almost knocking over bowls of food and the half empty pitchers of ale. “Janice is not for sale, she’s going with us!” She says sternly, her posture tenses as she gets ready to pounce at whoever dares reach for her sword.
“No need for any of that” Diljaris chimes in “No one is selling your sword Roakala. Settle down.” She puts her hand gingerly on the Orc’s shoulder. Roakala glares at Diljaris. Her eyes still filled with some rage but her breathing seems to slow and her posture relaxes as she finally slinks back down into her seat. “Fine” is all she says as she grabs a third bowl and continues to eat, this time slowly as she continues to eye Gorak.
A woman’s voice interrupts Gorak as he seems to move to continue to tease the Orc. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I hear you are looking for work?”
“Yes of course!” Diljaris says as she turns to face the owner of the voice. The woman is a finely dressed in new and clean robes. Around her neck is a golden necklace of a robin diving into a sea made from a blue sapphire. She is a tall and slender woman and her beauty makes it difficult to decern her age. She appears to be in her twenties. Her dirty golden curls seem to be meticulously placed down to her shoulders. She stares back at the party with eyes as blue as the emerald that hangs around her neck.
“My name is Esvele Rosznar of house Roszar and I am looking for my brother Kressado. He went missing a few weeks ago. I have asked countless adventurers for help but I haven’t heard word of his whereabouts”
“What does your brother look like?”
“He is a slender man. He is 22 years old and has dirty blond curls that go to his shoulders. He wears a platinum ring with our family crest” Esyele pulls her necklace towards the group. “It’s also engraved with our family motto. Fly high and swoop swift”
Diljaris scribbles furiously even leaving and quick but recognizable sketch of the Roszar family crest. “Is he an adventurer too?”
“Well?” Esyele begins. Her face turns red as she looks down at the ground “He isn’t an adventurer. He’s been in some trouble. He is a good guy, he is just a little misguided”
“What does that mean?” Gorak says as he places his flagon on the table.
“He got mixed in with the Xanathar Guild and that has gotten him in a bit of trouble. Last I heard he was going down into the dungeon for some job but he never told me details”
“What’s the Xanathar guild?” Gorak continues to interrogate the woman.
Esyele doesn’t raise her eyes. She remains silent for a second before slowly letting out “They are the crime syndicate that runs this town. Larceny, murder, prostitution, drugs, all things illegal run through them. My brother was a thief for them” she pauses for a moment as she studies the reactions of the party and ponders he explanation “My brother is a thief. Unfortunately he is a great thief and has now been unfortunately bound to the service of the Xanathar guild. I’ve tried my hardest to convince him to leave but he is also a stubborn man who likes to live dangerously. He is a good man non the less. He’s disappeared before, but it’s never been for this long. I just want to know if he is ok. Will you help me?” This time she looks up. Her voice cracks and she is clearly fighting back tears.
“How much?” Roakala asks as she leans forward, picking at her teeth.
“Well?” her voice still cracks and a small tear starts to roll down her cheek. “I will be ever so indebted to you and your group. My family is incredibly influential and having me as an ally will be incredibly beneficial”
Before the party has a chance to react, Diljaris moves towards the woman and places her hand on her shoulder. She looks down at the woman with a wide smile. Her tail wags her golden eyes seem to glow with a spark of excitement. “You can count on us. We’ll find your brother”
D&D Homebrew: Merchant Bot
I want to take a moment to write about another homebrew I have added to my game. Because of the time crunch that exists at my table, I have to find way to automate a lot of the processes in the game to optimize the session. This also means there are aspects of the game I need to cut out.
My players hate shopping. They are mean to the shop keeps or don’t talk to them at all and as much as I try to make the shop keep interesting and engaging, my players are only interested in getting to the next leg of combat. There is nothing wrong with that, that is just the truth of my table. As a result, we do shopping outside of our game session. Now the prices are set to what they are unless the player wants to haggle, then they must do the work and haggle and talk with the shop keep. Why? Because I want to play too.
Now for selling items, we’ve come up with a sort of gambling mechanic. Now story wise, this will be an NPC follower of the party. One whose only job in the party will be to carry around the junk the party doesn’t want and sell them when they arrive in town. You can adjust the responsibilities this NPC has to better fit your campaign, but in mine a follower that is a mule is fine enough. I do not do combat with this NPC or make checks with them. In combat, you can ignore him and say he hides or holds his own but I don’t see the point in making roles for him. This should be about the party, not the random bot you made for them. You can however, set him as a target to add complexity to the combat. She can’t sell if they are dead. And if they lose the NPC, make them work to gain another. If they keep killing off their npcs, maybe no one will agree to join them. You can have fun with this.
Now for the mechanic.
The players will give the NPC the items they don’t want. Armor, weapons, and other junk items that are worth gold. You as the DM keep track of the price on all of these items. I use the DND Beyond pricing, but you can use whatever you want as long as it is consistent. You keep the tally until the party makes it to town. Then, the NPC will take a few days to sell the items. I roll a d6 because I want to roll dice. One member of the party will then roll 1d100. The result of that will be how much of the total they will receive.
For example, if they collected 100gp worth of junk and the player rolls a 60, they only get 60g. I suggest rolling on a computer or app so you get more variety but rolling dice is just fine.
If the players want to try to haggle to get the better price, that is always an option. The caveat being that they can either roll the d100 or try to haggle. It wouldn’t be fair if they roll a one and then they haggle for the better price. What they get is what they get.
So far it has worked pretty well. My players always opt out for rolling dice and it is exciting to see the how much of the cut they receive. I charge my character a wage for the NPC. You can choose the rate that goes for. The NPC can quit if they are mistreated or if life gets too dangerous so they should be actively trying to keep him or her happy like some kind of Tamagotchi. You should also think about setting a carrying capacity to try to limit any abuse. My players at least will take advantage of the lack of carrying capacity and try to steal enormous items in the hopes of being imaginary billionaires.
Let me know what you think? Is there any ways that I can improve this system?
Mad Mage Chronicles – CH6
The Fight at the End of the Hall
This story is part of a larger series based on the published adventure “Waterdeep: Dungeon of the Mad Mage”. There will be spoilers.
The party continues through dark desolate passages of ancient dirty stone. Black soot and long deep scratches cover these tunnels. They record the history of the dungeon. The party steps over pools of dried blood and broken decomposing bodies. The further them move in, the mustier and warmer it gets. Drips of water can be heard somewhere in the darkness. Roakala leads the party with the dim glow of her new blade guiding her. She eyes for danger with each cautious step she makes. She steps on a piece of discarded bone, it shatters under her wait but she seems to take little notice. Instead, she moves forward until she enters a small room.
Here is where the tunnel ends. A room etched at the end of the hall. A room full of the remains of failed adventurers. Bodies, both whole or in pieces, are scattered in small piles. Those with flesh intact rot away slowly in the darkness. Those who aren’t have long since become bone and are now lost here forever. Roakala pauses for a moment, her eyes trying to make sense of the scene before her but her eyes begin to water from the foul odor that assaults her nostrils. The party moves in carefully, each scanning the room for dangers or valuables. As the party makes its way around the room, carefully trying to stay close to one another, two piles of discarded flesh begin to move. From them sprout large floating flesh creatures with bodies like brains and beaks for mouths. Attached to each are long tentacles that wave wildly below them. They raise with loud deafening screeches.
“What the fuck is that?” Roakala lets out as she moves her sword and shield into position.
“They’re Grell. Watch out for their tenticles, they’re poisones” Diljaris replies.
Before she can say anymore, the Grell is on top of her. Its skin slimy and full of discolored ridgels. It swipes at her with its long heavy tentacles. The force of the impact knocks the breath out of her. The tentacles wrap around her tightly and begin to carry her off. She coughs and gasps as she struggles to breath. The monster pulls her to its mouth and takes a nip at her with its sharp beak. She screams in agony as the beak tears into her flesh, ripping through her robe. Warm blood begins to seep down her shoulder. The monster turns and begins to take her away.
Roakala takes a step to help her the young dragonborn, but her path is blocked by the other Grell whose tentacles flare angrily and its beak snarls violently. Tentacles snap towards the Orc like whips, but Roakala’s instincts kick in as she doges and blocks the incoming flurry. She quickly closes the gap between her and the Grell who now faces her. Its eyeless face turns to her and takes a large nip at her side but instead of the soft Orcish flesh it excepted, its mouth bangs against the cold metal face of her shied. The force of the impact shakes Roakala to her core. It forces her to step back as her arm shakes under the weight of the monster’s attack but she stands strong. Sweat begins to form on her brow as she attempts to create an opening for her blade.
Diljaris begins to regain her breath as the shock from the blow begins to wear off. She begins to catch her breath. The grip on her body tightens as the slimy grey tentacles squeeze at her side. With the little breath she is able to mumble in an ancient tongue. Her eyes begin to glow blue. Her fingers spark with a bright blue flame. Where her burning hands she shimmies to touch the beast. Its skin begins to sizzle under the heat of the magical flame. A sudden burst of blue fire leaps from her hands, singing the creature. It screeches in pain and drops her to the ground. Diljaris lands in a loud and painful thug, once again knocking the breath from her lands. With the little strength she is able to muster, she stands up slowly. She takes wobbled labored steps away from the beast as the smoke and scent of burning flesh surrounds her.
Drugnar watches the dragonborn get swooped up and dragged away, he takes a step before the monster is able to make it far. He watches as the dragon born drops to the ground and struggles to make her escape. He moves as his legs can take him. Each step landing with heavy metaled determination. His right hand reaches for the pendant around his neck. Another gold coin hidden under his armor. This one houses the image of a beautiful woman carefully carved on its face. Drugnar moves himself between the monster and Diljaris and reaches out to touch his wounded ally.
“Sune lend me your light. Protect this creature as your own. Give her the strength to move forward. To continue to see the beauty of this world.”
There is a moment of silence as the two continue to move slowly. Suddenly, the coin in his hand begins to glow softly. The light spills through the cracks between his fingers. His left hand begins to glow warmly over Diljaris’s blue scales. Her steps begin to quicken as she appears to have newfound strength to move her forward. She no longer clutches at ther ribs, but moves quickly to make distance between her and the Grell. “Thanks” she expresses the two move away from the assailant.
An arrow flies by them from the darkness. It wisps by Drugnar’s head and connects with the floating monstrosity. Gorak stands at the other end, loading a second arrow onto his bow. He squints into the darkness, takes a breath and fires. The second arrow whiles through the air, piercing into the cold grey flesh. Drops of blood spray out, splashing against the filthy dungeon floor. A small river of blood starts to make its way down the shaft of the arrow. The Grell begins a hastened retreat. Blood drips bellow it, creating a trail in it’s wake.
On the other side, the second Grell is still locked in combat with Roakala. It snarls and flails against the orcs shield. The Grell makes quick swipes against the orc who has no choice but to move back and look for an opening. The Grell continues to make careless attacks, landing in loud cold slaps against the floor of the dungeon. Roakala dodges them, using the momentum of her movement to quickly close the gap between her and the monster. Before the Grell has a chance to react, Roakala is near the beast. She takes a strong confident swipe at the monster. The blade slices through the skin, leaving behind a deep gushing would and pain. In its desperation, the Grell takes swipe at the orc, but Roakala proves too fast. Instincts kick in and the blade comes down against the assailing tentacle. The blade swipes through easily. It’s soft glow momentarily obscured by the blood that slowly drips down its face. A large half of tentacle drops on the floor besides her. It flails uselessly without it’s body until finally, the last bit of life it held fades away into the darkness surrounding it. The Grell turns to run. It begins to float away in fear leaving itself open to Roakala’s third attack. The blade swipes quickly towards the retreating beast, slicing into unsuspecting flesh. It screeches in undeniable agony as it hastens it’s retreat.
Diljaris now stands more confidently, although her hands still shake. She closes her eyes, takes a long calming breath as she begins to recite the ancient words that fill the pages of her book. Her tail wages in a circle, her hands flail above her head. Her eyes glow blue as flames erupt from her hands. She goes silent as her eyes glare down the retreating monsters. ‘With this flame, I purge you from this world”. The flames launch from her hands, landing and creating a large explosion that engulfs the two Grell. The room fills with blinding light. When the fire fades and the room dim, the two Grell are left blackened and still burning. They float away weakly, their tentacles no longer flailing but instead left singed and curled against their scared bodies.
Drugnar takes advantage of the situation. With holy coin in hand he begins to say “Sune, mistress of beauty, show these beasts your light!” A flash of light chases down the farthest Grell. Instinct kicks in and the Grell moves out of the way. The soft glow of the spell reveals the battered beast and its desperation. It crashes against the wall. Small bits of it crumble to the floor as the Grell passes by, still in its attempt to escape. An arrow whiles into its back. This time instinct fails the creature. The arrow digs itself deep into the Grell’s body. Large spouts of blood poor from it. It falls from the air and squirms as it’s last ounce of life escapes it.
Gorak turns his head to the last remaining Grell who continues to burn and move through the darkness. His eyes squint as he takes careful aim. The arrow finds its place in burnt flesh. Agony and terror echo inside the last desperate squeals of the retreating Grell. In its desperation, it never noticed Roakala closing the distance until her cold glowing blade sunk deep into its flesh. Blood pours out of the wound and washes over Roakala’s hands as she uses all her strength to continue to cut the beast. The Grell grows heavy on her blade as blood as entrails begin to spill from the new wound. She takes the blade out, the blood drips over the runes making them illegable. The Grell drops heavily on the ground, lifeless.
The party stands in silence, still weary of danger, still searching for hostiles.
“Good news guys” Diljaris finally says, breaking the tense silence “You passed the test. Congratulations”
Mad Mage Chronicles – CH5
This is part of a larger series based on the published Wizard of the Coast Adventure “The Dungeon of the Mad Mage” Spoiler warning.
They exit into a dark silent cavern. Water slowly drips in the distance. The light from Goraks torch begins to spill out, filling the darkness, stretching out in every direction . Their footsteps echo off the cavern walls. Roakala takes the lead, her hand at the hilt as she scans through the darkness diligently. Behind her, Diljaris and Drugnar follow side by side. Both eyeing into the darkness, searching for unknown danger. Gorak follows behind the party, torch in hand. It’s flames licking at his face. There is an awkward silence that they carry between them as they make their first decent into the dungeon.
The cavern opens up and they enter a large room filled with long standing pillars. The pillars are scattered randomly throughout the large cavern, there seems to be little rhyme or reason to their placement. The light from the torch flickers over the pillars revealing distorted faces. On closer inspection, they appear to be horned demons of sorts. Diljaris moves her fingers over one of the pillars, feeling at its features. She turns to Drugnar who slowly steps towards her and asks “any ideas what these could be?”
Drugnar brushes his beard with his hand. He appears to be in deep thought. Roakala and Gorak don’t share this fascination of the pillars and move around carefully, searching for anything of value. Drugnar finally breaks the silence “they look like demons of sorts.” His voice is full of confidence.
” I could have told you that, but which one is it?”Diljaris says as she takes her notebook out and begins taking notes.
Drugnar shrugs “Who knows? I am only familiar with the Dwarven gods” Diljaris makes an imprint on a sheet of parchment that she stows away carefully in her bag. “Well let’s press on shall we?” she says, her eyes moving between the pillars.
Still within the large room, between the pillars they stand together. The light of the flame stretching in each direction revealing four exits. The one they came from due east and the rest stairways heading in the remaining cardinal directions. Roakala begins to search the room closely, her face almost kissing the floor as she stops and searches certain spots on the floor. She stops before the southern stairs, above it sprawled in dark red paint are the words “Certain death this way”. She continues her search.
“What is she doing?” Gorak whispers as the party watches the orc move around the room. They shrug before Roakala replies “I am looking for clues on where to go”
Gorak raises an eyebrow “Um, what did you find?”
“It’s hard to say, it all looks humanoid. No monsters” She finally stops and looks towards the group “But I vote we don’t go towards the warning.
“I can get behind that” Durgnar agrees as he pats his belly.
“Alright then orc, where does your investigation say we should go?” Gorak asks mokingly.
Roakala shrugs and shakes her head. “I was’t investigating for a way to go, I was looking for danger”
“Ok we aren’t doing this” Diljaris interupts “where should we go?”
Drugnar begins to dig through his pocket and pulls out a large silver coin. On it’s face the silhouette of a bearded dwarf. On it’s back, a hammer and anvil. “I have an idea” he says as he begins to show his coin to the party. “Why don’t we flip a coin. This has never steered me wrong before”
Gorak doesn’t flinch and seems accepting of the Dwarfs suggestion. The two remaining think for a moment before Diljaris finally says “Leaving the first trial to chance? There is something quite poetic about that. Flip away friend!”
“I haven’t read too much poetry, but I guess it’ll do” Roakala adds.
“It’s settled then. Heads we go north, heads we go west” and with that he flips the coin in the air. They watch as the coin floats up in the air, turning quickly to it’s own rhythm before crashing down on the floor with a soft bounce. The silhouette stares back at the party. “North it is!”
The party nods in agreement and they move north. Roakala leads the way, slinking expertly through the darkness. She listens for the sounds danger but hears none. Suddenly, they hear the faint sounds of a distant incoherent echoes. They approach more carefully. Hands grip tightly around weapons as the breathing slows. These echoes lead to a small room. The room is empty except for a swords buried into an wooden armor statue of a faceless man. The statue has begun to rot but the sword looks freshly forged. Etched into its steel face are neatly written runes from some unknown language. Tat it’s hilt, boney rotting fingers cling onto it. “Any ideas what’s up with this?” Roakala says, her hands moving towards the blade’s hilt. The echoes begin again but there doesn’t seem to be a source.
As Roakala’s dirty gloved hands wrap around the hilt of the blade. The skeletal hand drops to the floor and shatters into pieces. Before anyone has time to react, she grabs it tightly and pulls it from its resting place. Diljaris is startled by the sight and rushes carefully towards the orc. “Wait, it could be trapped!’ she says with her voice full of worry.
Roakala shrugs as she swings the blade around. “Feels fine to me”
“Well” Diljaris responds, a look of worry on her face “Give it here and allow me to examine it for a moment.”
Roakala thinks for a moment and reaches to hand over the blade before retreating it back “Can you do it without holding it?”
“It’ll only be for a moment, I will give it right back.” Diljaris says still worried.
“Ok but I’ll hold it” Roakala continues insistingly.
Diljaris rolls her eyes and gives in. “Fine, if you must” Her eyes start to glow a soft white. She hovers her hands over the blade as they begin to glow in the same shade. Her tail wags back and forth slowly as she whispers in droconic. The runes on the blade glow as they respond to the ritual. This goes on for some time as the party watches in awe of what is occurring before them.
Finally, Diljarus goes silent. The light in her eyes and hands fade. She looks at the party, clearly at a loss for words. She struggles to speak but finally is able to let out “This isn’t great but it’s not terrible”
“What is it?” Roakala asks, beginning to sound concerned.
“Well” Diljaris begins, struggling to find the right words “It looks like you have a cursed sword in your hands. For as long as you are cursed, you aren’t able to part with it”
“That’s not so bad. This is better than my old one, and she speaks Orcish”
“It speaks?” Diljaris asks looking concerned.
“Yes, Orkish”
“What does it say?”
“Oh she just wants to come along for the adventure. She will even shine a light for us. Good news for you ey human” Roakala adds, turning towards Gorak with a sly smirk.
“If you say so” Gorak answers eying the orc suspiciously “Does it tell you to do stuff”
Roakala shakes her head “Except for asking if she could come along, Janice isn’t really making any demands.
“An Orcish speaking sword named Janice? Not bad for a first adventure is it boyo?” Drugnar says as he nudges Gorak.
Gorak with his eyes still fixed on the dimly glowing sword shrugs “Does Janice need to prove herself too?”
“It’s only fair” Diljaris repplies, giggling.
Mad Mage Chronicles – CH4
Breakfast With a Plan
This story is part of a longer series based on the published adventure “The Dungeon of the Mad Mage”
The bar is silent at sunrise. It is a also a mess with tables flipped to their side, a thick layer of sticky smelly mud coats the floor, and a young tired man lazily sweeps up the bits of broken glass scattered throughout. A few patrons sleep off the night of drinking, slumped over on the floor or over a table. They snore loudly as the few disgruntled looking employees carefully clean around them. It’s quite a sight to see The Yawning Portal in it’s tranquil state.
Diljaris and Roakala are the first to come down. Diljaris in her usual chipper deadener gleefully galops down the steps while Roakala slinks behind her slowly. Her eyes half closed in her exhaustion. Her feet drag over the wooden boards. They sit at a table and Diljaris orders breakfast as Roakala’s slumps over the table and hides her face in her arms. “Why so early? We are the only people up this early” she says in a tone muffled by her current position.
“Well my dear” Diljaris responds as she begins setting up her workplace “We have a lot of dungeon to uncover and we are really behind.” She begis to neatly place before her books and journals and pens. Each placed neatly in their designated location.
Roakala raises her head slightly, her chin still touching the table. “I’m just here for the money, is there a way I can just join up with you later”
Diljaris smiles “So your intention is to join then?”
“That’s not what I meant” Roakala hides her face in her arms again.
“I need to see how well you do in combat before we can properly talk about you joining my group” Diljaris says as she studies her half conscious partner.
There is no response from Roakala except some heavy breathing.
A few minutes pass before Drungar and Gorak come down. “Good morning! I hope we haven’t been keeping you waiting long” Drugnar says extatically, his voice filling the room.
Diljaris who had been busy writing responds “I wouldn’t make tardiness a regular thing but it’s fine. Please join us eat we will depart after breakfast.” Before her, the table has already been set with a small feast of eggs bacon and toast.
The two men sit down at the table, filling their plates with the assortment of food. Gorak points to Roakala “What’s wrong with her?”
Without lifting her head Roakala lets out a muffled response. “It’s too early” is what the party can make out.
They begin to eat breakfast in silence. Diljaris writes in her journal, taking small nibbles here and there. Eventually Roakala lifts her head and eats from a plate Diljaris set aside for her. “So” Roakala begins, her mouth still full of food “you got a plan princess?’ Bits of egg spray out from her mouth to the table.
Diljaris looks at the bits of discarded egg with disgust. “I am not a princess!” she responds, sounding a bit annoyed. “Of course I have a plan”
“Are you gunna share it with us or is this a you thing?” Gorak chimes in.
“Oh you meant for today. Well we are going to go down into the dungeon and find a few monsters to fight. I want to see how compatible we are as a group.”
“How much are you paying us for that?” Roakala asks.
“Well if we find anything while we are down there, we’ll split it evenly. Remember, I have yet decided on your membership status”
“This is a lot of danger for a test princess. I think it’s fair that we get a bit of compensation. Maybe some collateral in case you don’t make it back.” Roakala adds, reaching to get more eggs.
“Well I did pay for your meals and lodging and I did save you from that mob you incited. I think I’ve compensated you plenty”
Roakala looks at her plate full of eggs, thinking for a moment before letting out “I could have taken ’em”
“Well” Diljaris says smiling “There shouldn’t be much danger for someone of your skill set. If what you say is true that is.”
“Hey” Roakala responds, slightly agitated “You don’t have to worry about me. I ain’t just talk.” There is a moment of silence as the three stare at the half-orc who wears a pugnacious look on her face. The scents of breakfast fill her flared nostrils. She seems to calm and sighs “All I am saying, moving forward, Ima need more than just breakfast.”
There is a small lift that has been built against the old well at the center of the bar. It is made from a small system of pulleys that attach to a wooden platform big enough to hold a small party of adventurers. The party finds itself in front of its sleeping operator. He is a older man with grayed mangled hair and an untrimmed beard and an untidy appearance. He sleeps soundly leaning against tower wall.
“Excuse me sir?” Diljaris says as he pokes the man gently. He jumps suddenly, staring back at the party who now surrounds him. It takes him a moment to regain full consciousness before finally asking “What do you want?!”
“We would like to go down, can you please give us a lift?”
“1 gold each” he grumbles.
“1 gold? You have to be kidding me? What if we take the ladder?” Gorak points to an old dirty ladder that goes down the side of the wall.
“It’s a gold either way. Are you going or not?” the man snaps as he stares down the party.
“Can we give you 2 gold and take the stairs?” Drugnar asks as he starts counting coins in his purse.
“Look I don’t make the rules. I just sit here and charge the fee. If you have an issue, take it up with Durnan. Pay up or leave” The man was clearly in a foul mood.
The party looks at each other with undecided looks in their eyes. Roakala is clearly angered by the man’s disposition. Her first ball up tightly as she takes a step towards the man, but before she could say a word, Diljaris interjects “Alright that’s fair” She pulls out her coin purse “4 gold it is.” Diljaris hands over the four gold and places the purse back in her pocket. “But we would like to use the lift”
“Yeah yeah, hurry up. Hop on” The man says, putting the coins in his pocket.
The party squeezes into the small wooden platform. The wood is worn and dirty. The wood creeks as it bears the weight of the party. Despite it’s rugged appearance, the lift is well built. The man begins to work the pully and the party begins its slow initial decent into the dungeon bellow. The darkness begins to hug them as the echoes of their decent bounce about the stone creating the a mountainous melody of their first adventure. They watch as the bar moves farther and father away until it is a small skylight. They land on the soft murky sand with a jolting thud. Gorak lights a torch. The light washes over the darkened walls revealing an explosion of colorful graffiti. Here the, names and words written in all the languages come together to form the story of the countless adventurers that have walked over this sand and through the old wooden doors. Confined in this small room, isolated from everything the party stands in admiration and excitement as boots crunch into the dirty sand. Fingers trace against the crumbling colored stone while Roakala digs through the pills of discarded refuse.
Her old glove digs through. Her fingers stop as they touch something hard. She pulls out a dirty clumping ball, perhaps something ceramic? She wipes it on her tunic, spitting on it every so often. The sand and mug begin to fade under her diligence, revealing an ivory colored orb. On closer inspection, she makes out a blackened iris. Staring back at her, a finely made glass eye sits on her hand.
“What did you find?” Drugnar asks as he moves towards the orc.
Roakala turns the iris so that it stares back at the dwarf. “Looks like someone is walking around with half their eyes.” She chuckles as she palms the eye and places it gingerly in her pocket. “What do we do now?”
The party looks at each other as the echoes of the lift returning to the top encapsulates them. They turn to the door. It seems out of place within its place on the wall. Surrounded by old dirty stone sits a freshly stained door on new hinges. A minute goes by before Drugnar finally breaks the silence. “I guess let’s see what’s behind door number 1.”