DnD Archives - Lunar Obverse

The Dragon’s Defense

DnD

Because of the uncertainty around D&D 2014 v. 2024, D&D Beyond, and the greedy/stupid folks at Hasbro that own all of that, my players and I have been discussing how to continue with our campaign, using the 2014 rules, while still playing online since several of us live inconveniently far to drive for a biweekly game. When Wizards of the Coast announced that they would be updating character sheets to the new ruleset, it caused an outcry among players who wanted to keep using the rules they have, even though they’re using a tool owned and maintained by the company that has to make money on selling more stuff.

I don’t intend to update the rules for my game until at least all the core rulebooks are released. Some of my players are buying the books but, again, the specific campaign isn’t changing yet. To my mind, that means we need to stop relying on WoTC-owned tools. Luckily for us, there are plenty of other options out there for online play.

The one that most interests me, however, is the least expensive and least complicated. Let’s just keep using Discord for video chat, but move dice rolling over to the tool we use for maps and notes. That tool is Owlbear Rodeo, the lightweight VTT that we’ve been using but not to its full potential.

I’m going to add an initiative tracker, and try out a couple of different dice extensions. I’d like some automation if possible but I have not found anything that works with the 5E 2014 rule set and character sheets. But that’s fine. Everyone can track their character sheet as a PDF, we can roll virtual dice and do our own addition and subtraction, and I’m sure it will all work out fine.

I would like to test that first, though.

So I created a scenario to use as a one-shot, based on a vague idea I’ve had rolling around in my head, and pitched it to my players. In the campaign, there’s a legend about a party of epic heroes who killed the last known ancient red dragon. A dragon that old, by the rules, is one of the toughest mortal monsters in the game, a powerful and intelligent creature that has a slew of amazing abilities, attacks, and defenses. By the rules, using Challenge Rating, that monster is a deadly encounter for a party of four Level 20 characters, which is the highest official level attainable.

Would it be, though? With the powers of demigods or superheroes, with smart players controlling them, and with a little bit of prep, I bet it would be at least an even fight. 5E characters at that level are essentially demigods. This fight could be over quickly, due to shenanigans, or it could last for many many rounds, also due to shenanigans. I’m excited to find out how it goes!

My players are creating the characters. I’ve set some restrictions on class, race, and magic items, sticking to official rules. I expect some of my players to try some bonkers builds and abilities. But Rule Zero is: we’re doing this to have fun. Is your metagaming fun? Then I’ll allow it!

I will update y’all once it’s played out. Stay tuned.

Guinevere’s Story

DnD

I’m having fun at XOXO Festival tonight, so here’s a short vignette I wrote as backstory for my D&D game. Hopefully this makes sense out of context. Enjoy.

24th of Bluesky, 502nd year Post-Cataclysm

Anelyan, my once-lost love. I did not expect you back in my life.

As I write this, I’m riding in a cart next to your very dead body.. I’m still processing all this, and more determined than ever to do whatever the gods require to bring your soul out of the Deadlands and back to the land of mortal life. My whole world has turned from six to noon, as the old Imperial saying goes, in less than a day.

Maybe more than that. Two days ago, while casing a warehouse that had been occupied by a squad of squatters, I got a message from Enewen that said these two newcomers to town, a half-elf named Olmak and a halfling named Milo, wanted to talk to me, and implied heavily that Milo was a former member of the Shadow Family guild in Kopno’domas, which put him and I on the same side by the traditional calculation of “enemy of my enemy” and all that.

Still didn’t mean I trusted them, though, and by the time I got the message, I still had a day or two to scout out the lay of the land, so that’s what I’ve been doing the past day or two. They were babysitting some Blackfeathers and took them north along the peninsula, twice, and came back in poor shape both times; at least two of the four were injured to the point of death each time. Did they find the tomb of Ser Borin, last champion of the Duskmaven? Hard to say, but their bags were heavy the second time; maybe they’d found something.

The half-elf wearing rough leather clothes and who talks to ravens is hard to hide from, but I’d managed it, just barely, on their wilderness excursions. In town, though, this morning, was more demanding. I’d used a glamour to hide my appearance — not just for them, of course, there are other folks looking for me — and since casting this illusion is a new trick for me, I was a bit clumsy. I got made when they stopped for breakfast at Rhoban’s. But I was able to fade into the crowd around the plaza, and they seemed to have other business.

They joined one of the friars who was carting pony kegs up to the old fort, Friar Willy, a friendly drunk who had gotten up to some adventures a few years ago with Warjos and Ilbahn but who was laying low recently. The burglar (Milo) and woodsman (Olmak) appeared to be using Willy to get into the castle. Was that their con? I followed them up the stairs at a distance but got denied entry to the castle, so I took the path around to see if they came out the other side and continued toward the lighthouse. A calculated gamble but it did eventually pay off.

Still keeping my distance (damn Olmak’s eyes! he’s hard to avoid notice) I loitered near the ocean side of the bluff, watching the Elven warships at anchor past the Breaker Bar, and admiring the griffon riders’ maneuvers. After shooing off some wretched-looking black birds (definitely not ravens, not anymore,) my marks chatted up the lighthouse caretaker, an old gent named… Henri? Henri Redstream? Not sure, I don’t spend much time at tourist traps like this, especially if they have cranky old wizards in them. There are easier targets to loot. But I got made, again (curse Olmak’s eagle eyes) and it looked like they were going to go inside, so I decided to get it over with and speak to them. And, long story cut short, that’s when I found out you had died but somehow your ghost remained. Unfinished business, with me.

Normally I love being right. I was right to tell you that adventuring was too dangerous. I was right to tell you to go back to your farm, tend your crops, and find a nice simple farmwife to settle down with. I’ve gotten out of too many close scrapes to want to see you exposed to that same danger. All our arguments beside the firepit flashed before my eyes. But something did not add up. We were both devoted to Our Lady of Ravens, and She hated the undead. Why were you a ghost? Were the gods toying with us? I had to find out more.

I tried talking these three, Olmak, Milo, and Friar Willy, out of coming with me, but they seemed sincere in helping me. If this was a trap, their bringing one of Rhoban’s priests with them, was an almost impossible level of cover. Willy was known around town, a native son, jovial and lusty and always drunk, but not a liar or cheat. His reputation eased some of my suspicions. Plus they had a cart back at their camp.

We stopped by their camp to attend to their Blackfeather babies. Even though they and I both give honor to the Raven Queen, I consider them wannabes and charlatans. But meeting Alquorin I saw a hint of steel behind the silk. I am almost certain that he managed to survive making a pact with the Matron of Ravens. Only time will tell if he and his girlfriend, Marjolane, can harness that power. Am I sad I missed that opportunity? Perhaps, but maybe there will be future chances. As far as I know, it’s possible for Patrons to have more than one Champion at a time. I know the Pig-Lord of the Undead does.

We rode the hour or so to the safe house. Olmak and Milo debated stopping to see where they found Anelyan’s body but instead we pushed on to the house. Milo snuck up to a window and reported that the body and the spirit were both inside, so we advanced. But the ghost apparated out of the wall too swiftly to counter, and briefly possessed Olmak before the friar was able to compel the ghost to leave. It flew fast as it could and once it was 100′ or so from the house it dissipated.

Olmak was sure that it would return, though, so I went in and gathered up your body and we high-tailed it back to town. And… I feel I owe it to you to give you another chance at life. I know that the high priestess of Rhoban can bring people back from the dead; she’s done it before (for instance, Ilbahn’s son from that unpleasantness a few years back), and that requires an offering of a diamond of great worth, more expensive the longer the soul has been gone. And I know where I might get one; the sorcerer in that warehouse down by the docks has been collecting gems.

I could (probably) have faced your vengeful spirit alone, but I think I’ll need some help with these bandits if it all goes tits up. Luckily, Willy, Milo, and Olmak are down to help out. I’m sure they can get something of value out of this; I just need one shiny rock.

Power Gaming Thoughts

DnD

Bear with me. This post might only be of interest to folks who are familiar with D&D Fifth Edition. If that’s you, read on. If not, tune in next time, or feel free to browse the archives for something else to read tonight. Thanks.

There are a couple of players in my D&D game who like to find loopholes in the rules. Cool, or clever, interactions where a buff from one spell can cause extra damage with another spell. If you’re not familiar with table-top role playing games (TTRPGs) that style of play is considered power gaming. You may also be familiar with the term min-maxing, which is similar but not exactly the same thing; min-maxing is building an extremely focused character, one who is exceptional at one specific thing, and minimizing any negative aspects. Both of those, however, have a bad reputation.

I have mixed feelings but I generally land on the side of, if someone enjoys that, and they’re in my game, I’m probably going to allow it, as long as it doesn’t tread on the fun of everyone else at the table.

Recently one of my players asked me, privately, about a one-sentence description of an ability they were considering for their next level up. The ability was the warlock invocation Eyes of the Runekeeper, which states that “You can read all writing.” The player, Zach, wanted to know how I would interpret that.

My honest first reaction was “ugh.” I didn’t like just the idea that I would have to consider all possible ramifications of the warlock being able to read anything written. My mind recoiled, imagining all the weird side cases and plot-destroying ways such an ability could be used. This gut reaction was unfair to the player, and honestly against my own normal feelings about play.

As we talked it out, I realized that I didn’t really care. I am not the sort to depend a plot on such a specific thing as a piece of writing being unreadable or not. I’m really not. If Zach wants his character to be able to do that, then me trying to prevent that happening is me being a killjoy. I told him if he wanted to do that, then it would turn out to be useful, because that’s what I want to do. I want my players to have cool moments like that.

Similarly the other power gamer player, Adam, approached me about the idea of rest-casting, which is using a spell to give a buff right before getting all your spell slots back after a long rest. It’s a power gamer move for sure. At first glance, though, by a strict interpretation of the rules, it’s not allowed if you read the rules as saying spellcasting breaks a long rest. When it came up, we found that rule, and it put it to bed.

5E’s rules are written in natual language and there is room for interpretation. I went looking for any official updates on that idea, and found even more vagueness. But, again, I’m inclined to allow it.

My one point of concern is that it’s hard enough to get players to use up their resources without wanting to long rest at the drop of a hat, which in turn, makes it harder to create challenging encounters for them. 5E is designed around the idea of a 5-8 encounter “adventuring day” and that’s bananas to most DMs I know.

My counter for that tendency for players to always want to be at full resources (hit points, spell slots, etc.) is to lean into story stakes and character beats. I pull away from the mechanical side of combat… but I also am a bit of a power gamer, and I like making builds and finding cool power combos in the rules. I have mixed feelings.

I told Adam I’d allow rest-casting, but I also laid out my concerns about the adventuring day and long rests. I hope I’m being fair and fun. That’s my ultimate goal.

Biscuit Con 2024 Closing Thoughts

DnD

My current D&D game started two years ago. We had our Session 0 on 18 August 2022. I had notes for a small city, some NPCs, and vague ideas of three different plots the players could involve themselves in: joining up with an army preparing for war, finding out why river pirates had turned to kidnapping, and chasing down some cultists looking for a ceremonial sword.

That first session was spent on the players choosing among several characters they had made, then a simple scenario of busting out of a brig on a pirate ship and figuring out what to do next. They decided to lay low, ran into a bear being harassed by ravens over the dead body of an elven woman, and the campaign was off to a rousing start.

Only two of those players, Vic and Shawn, stuck with the game the whole time; we’ve added three other players, Scott, Adam, and Zach; the current group has been stable for at least a year, I think. Through the entire run of the game, we have been playing online, through Discord, with the use of the Avrae bot and the help of D&D Beyond. Until now.

This Friday, we all met in person for the first time as a group. I’ve known two of my players in real life for a while; the others I have only known online. But a couple of months ago, Shawn, who lives in Arizona, mentioned he had to come to Portland for a work trip and we planned some in-person gaming.

Since Shawn, and Scott, both had to come to Portland from out of town, we decided to use one of their hotel rooms for the game. Since we had a weekend for gaming, both myself and the other DM, Vic, talked about running sessions for each of our games. We joked about sheduling, and somehow that gave it a feeling of a mini-convention, just for the six of us.

Someone said we should name it, the warlock’s imp familiar lent his name, and suddenly we had gone from arranging a game weekend to running and attending Biscuit Con 2024. We dreamt up logos with the help of AI, someone asked Google Gemini to design a badge. Biscuit, a little imp with the manic energy of a pyromaniac six year old, was an excellent mascot, along with actual biscuits (the English kind, not the American kind, because the AI did not understand we wanted fluffy dinner rolls and not hard cookies.)

The next step was putting up a domain. The site is empty, under construction, but the joke will keep going.

I have actual reservations about running an actual D&D oriented gaming convention; as an organizer I’d be managing things and not, y’know, playing D&D. But it is a fun idea to loop more people into a chaotic scheme, and if it meant I get to hang out with this loony group would be more than worth it.

Biscuit Con 2024 was a rousing success. Sorry you missed it. Stay tuned for registration information for next year. I proposed we have the goal of doubling attendance. I think we can do it.

Dragon Slayer

DnD

I hate to post something random but I’ve been playing D&D all day and did not take time out to write a post. As a way to keep my streak going, here’s a first-person account I wrote of Lord Emil Warjos describing, in ballad form, the slaying of the Scourge of the Sunset Coast, the ancient red dragon, Tountomos Perjorative, Matron of Ashes. Thanks for your patience and readership.

Eigntontrom tek’n

Dragon slayer

Bhlt qdnosh

Enchanter

Hrontomos os qdnosh

Chaos (random?) Magic

Eignontrom tek’n

Dragon slayer

Rhaad gnetos woik

Knowledge get world

ne’a Troudom woik

Order (world? land?)

Tountomos, old female red dragon. Born before the Old Empire.

First we had to get a scale and a claw and a tooth of the dragon from her lair. Many lizard folk and kobolds guarded the caverns in which she slept, and a band of cultists dogged our trail, harassing us and seeking to delay us, for what reason we knew not.

But eventually we made it past the early defenses (a pit of oil that the slightest spark or flame would set off into a raging conflagration) and obtained one each of scale, claw and tooth.

Then bargain with the elves to help them enchant a weapon to slay it. We had to do several small deeds to win the favor of the elves and their queen, since none of us were of elfin blood. But eventually we began the process of enchanting the weapon. The final stages had to be done on the grounds of the old elven fortress. We explored the ruins and found that there was, at one time, underground passages, but they had all been collapsed and impassable. When Anansegr the Elven wizardess began the final ritual, an army of undead skeletons and zombies appeared and attacked her; we fought them long enough to complete the ritual.

We ended up with a single arrow of slaying. We protected it from the kobolds and lizard folk in the dragon’s thrall and carried it past the dragons defenses once again

We ventured back into the mountains, ran afoul of the dwarves there, escaped, and crossed into the dragons domain. We were attacked again by the cultists, and captured one of their number, a woman. Ilbhaan questioned her, trying to find out what the cultists were up to. She struck me as insane, babbling on about how magic was going to doom us all, and how much better off we would be without it. Her words struck deep into Ilbhaan. He spent much time in conversation with her. Eventually, he convinced her to help us slay the dragon. She was eager for its demise, but wary of Ilbhaan’s magic.

Once again past the dragon’s defenses, deeper, until we found the sleeping chamber of Tountomos.

She was waiting for us. Somehow, she knew that we had her doom with them.

She whipped up sorcerous winds to deflect any arrow; we began a holding action to wait out the spell. We took blows that would slay a normal man dead, and kept fighting. Chaisa held strong in her faith and helped the group maintain, but it was taking too long. Finally, Diggy managed to steal a gem from her horde and began climbing out of the cavern, which was enough to enrage her and cause her to chase after him. In the tight tunnel, the winds were no longer a factor, and Warjos was able to take aim and fire.

I aimed true. The arrow struck.

Tountomos was slain.

But before the Wyrm died, she called out Ilbhaan’s name, and called him close. Wary of a trick, he protected himself with what few spells he had left, and walked over. She spoke to him in a corrupted dialect of Draconian and Old Imperial, whispered to him a prophecy, and foretold his doom.

He was ashen-faced and not from the exhaustion of battle. He was silent on the journey back, not even speaking to Mlanda, the cultist. As he used up his spells, he did not replenish them, until they were all gone.

We were rich beyond counting. Winter came, and we took our rest. Gorm, who had always felt a bit distant from Dwarven culture, settled in town, retired. Diggy went on a journey to the center of the Old Empire and back. I took up service with Baron Khelmos the Bold, and eventually became his heir when he passed away. Chaissa took over at the cathedral and, with the dwarves’ aid, expanded and completed its construction.

The Night-Captain’s Report

DnD

Another story I wrote as a sort of recap for the players in my D&D game. They had broken in to a warehouse. This is the Night-Captain’s viewpoint cleaning up after the fact. Enjoy!

Second bell past midnight

27th of Bluesky 502 AC

Warjos Dos Docks District

Guard-Commander Tullia de Cueto was still pulling on her gloves, awkwardly holding a paper-wrapped sweet nut pastry in one hand, as she walked up to the warehouse in the dead of night. She pardoned her wide-shouldered body past the small crowd of bystanders, some of whom recognized her and bid her a friendly greeting. Tullia walked around the front to the left, to where her night-captain, Savastian Traius stood, taking notes in a small journal.

“Sorry to send for you, Captain,” Savastian said, his blue eyes sincere as he pushed his hair back behind his ears. “This seemed big enough to need your attention.” Oil light spilled out of the building he stood next to, putting his face in sharp contrast, the left side of his face in darkness.

Tullia sighed and hefted the half-eaten sugary treat she held in her leather-gloved hand. “Gidden came over last night. He brought some fresh salmon and we broiled it. Not sure what he used to season it, but it was amazing. And he had these cranberry-nut things for dessert. It was a lovely evening and a lovely morning. Until I saw your face, Sav.” She took a bite, then tucked it into a pouch. “What do I need to know?” She pointed to the metal bindings of a door, hanging from the hinges, with shards of burned wood still smoldering, leaving the entrance fully open. “What happened here?”

“That’s not even the most–” Savastian started to say. He was interrupted by shouts from further inside the warehouse and a wet, raspy growl, accompanied by the sounds of heavy things being knocked over. “Friar Willy found an undead bear here.”

Tullia pinched the bridge of her nose, her wide-cheeked face and forehead blushing with a rush of frustration. “OK, start at the beginning.”

“Near as I can tell,” Sav said, “the Friar and his friends – an elf-blooded nature mage and a couple of light-armor fighters, human woman and halfling man, we didn’t get names – broke in here because they thought there was some necromancy going on.” The sounds of the zombie beast inside the warehouse continued, along with the shouts of people trying to corral it. “He was right.”

“Whose warehouse is this? Do we know? I didn’t see any signage out front.” Tullia stepped over the ashy remains of the door into the lobby. A well-worn carpet was thrashed about and pierced with many small holes; she noted the open single doors to her left and right, and open double doors straight ahead. The room was lit with oil lanterns, which made flickering shadows in the rafters overhead.

“A merchant guild called Better Burrows, headed up by Ser Harmonio Whisperbridge out of Kopno’domas. Deals mostly in fine furniture and woodworking and textiles, typical halfling creature comforts.”

Tullia tsk’ed. “Keep the stereotypes under control, Sav. Lots of folk like nice things. Like that salmon dinner I had last night…” She peered into the door to her left and saw a pair of bunk beds and a desk, and a firepit that appeared to have burned out of control, centered in a black ring of ash and soot. She looked up and saw a flimsy metal chimney that had also been exploded, probably from above. “What happened to the workers here?”

“Uh, bad news, Captain. Some of the former workers seem to have been, well, zombified, also.”

“Torm’s stormy dick!” Tullia cursed. “We’ll have to get names and notify next of kin. Probably this Ser Whisperbridge will know. OK, zombie bear, zombie workers. We got anyone else involved?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention the undead wolf running around…” Sav put up both hands defensively to fend of his superior’s anger. “We’ve had reports of it for at least four or five days now, just haven’t had the time to track it down. Been scaring kids and threatening pets nightly. Once we finish up here I’ll round up a posse and go hunting. But, actually, we do have someone in custody. Guy named Maso. Willy turned him over to us. Guy’s still freaked out, babbling about vines and fire, but once he calms down we’ll get more info from him. He’s chilling out in the cell back at the guardpost.” Sav consulted his notes. “Maso claimed to work for a Grenjolm, been using the warehouse for the last week or two. Guard Selko has confirmed that a ship, the Her Folly, has been in dock recently, run by a Lord Captain Grenjolm de Astorga, also known as Lucon Astorga, Garlless Lucon, Grenjolm the Wild… got a long list of aliases, but Grenjolm is the most common one. Wild sorcerer.”

Tullia, leading Sav, stepped into the warehouse. To her left were the large barn doors, still barred and locked from the inside. In front of her was a crane and under it an open shipping container, conveniently bear-sized. On the other side, three people, two of them wearing the yellow and red tabards of city watch, the other in rough street clothes, were lassoing and pinning down a rotting, angry, brown bear. The people were trying to tie off the rope to leash it in place. Beyond them, four animated corpses were chained in a line underneath a wooden catwalk, agitated and mouthing incoherent groans. Tullia shook her head, disgusted.

“Good work, all,” she said to the people holding the ropes. “So this Maso was shipping the bear somewhere?” She poked a finger at the shipping label. “Lady Marcella Bimalchio in Barangdorn. Another message to send. Why aren’t we killing the bear? You must have a good reason.”

“We can’t afford reparations to Lady Bimalchio. Coffers can’t cover what it looks like she paid for this thing.” Sav pointed at a metal grate on the floor of the warehouse. “Maso’s gang all escaped down there, into the sewers. Probably long gone by now, but I’ll put up posters on the bounty board once we get names from Maso. Oh, and there’s a cell down there with three more workers chained up.”

A woman wearing the red-and-yellow tabard over her studded leather armor approached from the lobby. “Found the keys. They were in the office.” She dangled the keychain and pointed her thumb behind her. “Also, the safe is open and empty. The gang likely grabbed it before they escaped.”

“Thanks, Millicent. Good work.” Sav said. “Head down and see if you can let those workers out.”

Tullia sighed. She counted off on her fingers as she spoke. “OK, we’ve got Maso for squatting, for looting, and fraudulent sales. He’s an accomplice to necromancy. Endangerment by way of uncontrolled monstrosities. Accomplice to theft. We’ve got the Rhobanite priest as a witness, along with his friends. The halfling merchant prince will press charges, along with the next-of-kin for the workers and the still-living workers. See if we can get any more information from the neighborhood; someone must have seen or heard something.”

“Yes, ma’am. And Friar Willy promised to come by the guard post tomorrow to fill us in. Probably afternoon. You know,” and Sav pantomimed taking a long drink from a large mug.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all under control, then, Sav.” Tullia said, stepping back through the lobby and out into the street. “What did you need me for?”

The blonde man furrowed his brow and pointed to the people still wrestling and pulling the bear toward the crate. “Well, we, uh, we could use some help with the bear!” But his captain was gone, her back fading out in the dark of the summer night. Tucking his notepad into a pouch on his belt, he cracked his knuckles and went back inside.

A Change Would Do You Good

DnD, fiction

Since I mentioned Azak and Tuud, my beloved kobold NPCs, in yesterday’s post, here’s a little short story I wrote about them. It was meant to provide my players some context after the fact. I love these two so much. Hope you enjoy them, too.

The two kobolds crept through the cave, keeping low. They turned their eyes in all directions, spotting the burnt out torches stuck in the ground, the campfire with inedible burnt meat, and the passage down.

“What do you see, Tuud?” asked the pale white kobold.

Tuud pulled the bronze rimmed goggles over his eyes. His red-scaled face scanned the cave. “Eh. Same thing I see with my regular eyes, Azak. Are you sure this is where we have to go?”

“Dorgach ordered me here. This is where our clanmembers went with the big lizardfolk.”

Tuud shook his head. “The demon. Don’t say its name.” Tuud shivered. “Saw the bodies of our clansfolk outside. Slaughtered.”

Azak waved Tuud to come along, walking toward the side passage nearly covered with vines and roots. “Foot prints, boot prints specifically. Big people came this way.” Azak stopped, grabbing their midsection, their muzzle wrinkled with a grimace of sudden pain.

“How are you doing?” Tuud was immediately by his friend’s side, an arm around their shoulders.

Azak leaned into the hug, then shrugged it off. “I will be OK. The change will be over before we know it.”

“Change comes on dragon’s wings,” Tuud intoned. “Must be difficult. Many males have been lost–“

“Killed. Murdered.” Azak corrected him. The cave floor under their feet gave way to a black and white ceramic tile floor.

“As you say. So before the clan can grow, we need more males.” Tuud tapped his temple. “I know this, but you’re my first friend I’ve known who actually had to change, female to male.” He rested his hand on a black stone archway carved with bird shapes.

Azak scowled. “Does it make a difference?”

“No. You’re my friend.” Tuud shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. Makes no difference to the clan. Just don’t like to see you hurt.”

They had advanced down the hallway, and down some stairs, to a room with a wide stone pool in the center, filled with oddly clean and clear water. Four bronze, or maybe gold, statues of humans in feather-like armor were in each corner. A passageway led onward on the other side of the pool.

Tuud made toward the pool to look inside; he saw some vials of bright green resting in the bottom, along with a scattering of coins. He shot a glance at his friend. Azak shook their head, though, and began searching the far doorway for signs of a trap. They poked at a slack tripwire, pointed out a scythe blade that hung, having been sprung before they’d arrived.

“Further. It’s safe. Let’s go.”

They scampered down another set of stairs and around a corner. They entered a larger room, lined with old and broken pillars to the left and right. At the far end, a black statue, at least three kobolds tall, of a grim looking Human in feathered armor. In front of the statue was a crude platform, a slab of stone on top of piles of other stones, with several burnt-out torches around it. A pile of bodily remains were piled on top, dried blood staining the slab and foundations.

Tuud did not like the look of any of this and hesitated at the entrance. He noted more foot prints, scuffed, on the tile floor that indicated a fight. “Or a dance,” Tuud said, laughing.

Azak made a beeline toward a pile of burnt and blackened rubble against the left hand wall. They began poking around and found another body. A lizardfolk, dressed in silvered robes, had been stabbed many times, the torso almost obliterated. “What monster did this?” Azak hissed. Azak kept digging through the rubble, turning the body over. “It has to be here, it has to be! Help me!”

Tuud came over, helping to shift the debris around. “What are we looking for?”

“The staff! The staff! That is what Dorgach sent us to find.” Azak sat down, defeated, their head in their hands. “It’s not here.”

“Then we must make a new one.” A raspy voice intoned from the shadows. Tuud startled and spotted a thin humanoid shape with creepy proportions barely visible in the far corner, near where an empty cage sat.

Azak stood up and defiantly shouted. “Not from Tuud!”

Tuud startled again. “What?”

The humanoid shape sighed, then laughed. “Fine. Fine. Your friend can keep his skull. If not a fresh one, then we will need several.” A long midnight-blue arm extended from the shadow, and a long finger extended from the hand. “Start with the previous shaman’s skull, then collect the ones of your other clansfolk, and all of their arm and leg bones.”

Tuud waited but his friend pulled out a dagger and began cutting away at the lizardfolk’s robes. Tuud sighed and unsheathed his own knife.

“Azak, what is this for?” Tuud whispered to his friend “Why are we desecrating the shaman?”

“Because,” Azak said, tiredly. They wrapped scraps of the silver robes around their arms and torso. “I’m the new shaman. Lord Orcus demands it.”

In the shadows, Dorgach laughed, raucously, its deep voice booming through the fallen tomb.

My favorite monster

DnD

Do you play Dungeons & Dragons? I do. I may have mentioned it once or twice before. I’m in the process of getting ready to play D&D with my friends in person in three weeks or so and that’s why I found myself in Guardian Games today. In-person D&D requires physical props, minis, and dice. Don’t they? Sure they do.

They have a much more limited selection these days than I remember from the past. For one thing, they’ve removed the used modules and rulebooks. I was looking forward to going through the used bins. I was hoping to find some old copies of modules I could read, nostalgize (that’s a new word; I just made it up) and maybe incorporate into my campaign. Guess there’s still DM’s Guild for that.

They had a huge display case just for dice. I must admit I am a bit of a dice goblin. There were dice there that were amazing and I am not going to mention what made them amazing because I still might buy them just to show off to my other players.

And they had a decent selection of miniatures, including a line of mini monsters that were using the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons artwork. And, again, seeing them gave me a huge dose of nostalgium (it’s a word now; that’s how language works, deal with it). I love those old janky designs. The rubbery long-nosed trolls. The dog-faced kobolds before they became li’l dragonkin. The propeller-tailed rust monsters. The dookie-shaped ropers. Love, love, love.

Elsewhere in the store they had some modern, 5E designs for miniatures. I was looking for dragons. Several dragons are the big movers and shakers in my world, and I’d love to have them represented in my next session. I was particularly looking for a big angry black dragon. For some reason, I’ve always loved the design of the black dragon; they have those cool forward-pointing horns. In AD&D they were straight and pointy; modern designs have curved but still forward-pointing horns.

And that led me, nostalgalisticaly (it’s a word and the meaning is clear from the context, admit it; as long as you understand what I’m saying it’s a word) to thinking about monsters that I love, monsters I always include in my games for one reason or another but mostly because I just dig them. Black dragons; the very first dragon I ever used in a game was a black dragon, spitting acid, coming out of a swamp to attack the party.

Kobolds. I love the old school ones and the new school ones. If I need a mob that’s got low hit points but attacks in large groups, I don’t go goblin, I don’t go orc, I go kobold. I’ve pulled lore from all over the place for the canonical kobolds in my game.

One bit that came from earlier editions is that they will involuntarily switch gender in instances where their colony is threatened, in a similar way that some amphibians do in nature. I had an NPC kobold early on, Azak, who the players met in the middle of their change, so I tried to consistently refer to them with neutral pronouns. Not sure the players noticed but it was a touchstone for me. They weren’t trans in the way people are trans; they were literally undergoing an environmentally-forced gender change. I’m glad the players didn’t kill them and their friend Tuud. I’d love for them to make a return, if I can find the right story beat for them.

One other monster that I have fond memories of fighting is a troll. My first best AD&D character, “Griffon” Gondolin, elven thief (not Rogue, not back in those days) had a reputation for doing ridiculous damage when backstabbing, and the first time he killed a monster in one turn, it was a troll. The other party members rushed in to burn the pieces and prevent the troll from regenerating, but it was the twin blades of Griffon that took it down to -10 HP. Fun times.

The Zenith and The Nadir

DnD

I was going to cheat tonight and post something that I used ChatGPT to generate. But even if I clearly labeled it as AI generated, I could not use it to meet my 500 word goal post for the day. I have to write something out myself. Here I go.

The scenes I was going to post were fictional in-universe speeches, an outnumbered princep rallying their troops to make a final stand against a vast demonic army, the Battle of the Monontonos Plains.

I can picture the scene in my head; the Princep, a skinny and young person, pale, dressed in fancy but not very functional robes and armor, helm too big for their narrow head flopping down over their eyes as they raise their thin, reedy voice above the clamor of the thundering rainstorm that soaks them, and their soldiers.

The small squad, maybe a score of them, beaten, weary, armor dented from the running battle of their retreat, their weapons blunted against the defenses of their inhuman foes, faces caked with blood and mud, squinting up to the naive young royal who’s misfortune lead them here.

Above them, only black clouds and falling rain, split by constant sounds of cracking thunder and flashes of white-hot lightning. They stand on top of a rise that could barely qualify as a hill, a desperate palisade crafted of stunted saplings pointed outward at the base of the mound.

No other cover gives them a moment’s rest against the rain and the hail of bolts, arrows, and fire from the encircling armies. No supplies of food or medicine, no stocks of ammunition or tools to sharpen their meagre swords and spears and clubs.

And all around them, in every direction, countless horrors and demons and devils. Every enemy’s eyes shine blood-red, piercing the darkness. Every form a mockery of human shape. Every hand holds a massive weapon of war, every body clad in black iron plates the approximate thickness of a castle wall. Tiny and fast ferrocious needle-fanged swarms swirl around person-sized gangly armed swordsmen and archers. On giant booted feet ogres and giants loom above the hordes, grunting in mountainous hoots of flesh-hunger.

Enemies abound in every direction from the tiny Imperial squad. Yellow tear-filled eyes stare across a blasted barren plain of mud and grass to thousands of hungry hellish eyes.

How did it come to this, though? The speech that ChatGPT wrote for me is in the vein of inspiring but doomed speeches but surely this final stand does not bear scrutiny from a tactical standpoint. No general would allow themself and their crew to become so intensely in the worst position? Had they no fortress from which to fight? No reinforcement to shore up their defense? No higher ground from which to rain down destruction on those who would oppose them?

This is a legend, a tale told to scare leaders who would squander the loyalty given to them. Leaders should not rush to battle because lives are precious and should be spent only for righteous causes. Defense of the weak and oppressed. Attack against intolerance and ignorance and fear. Those are only the true fights, and in those battles every good general is overmatched, but can surely count victory in their grasp.

Surely, they can?

I hate printers… but

DnD

I hate printers. I really, really do. I have a stack of old tech that I need to take to FreeGeek to donate and get it out of my house, and the stack has been in the hallway at the top of the stairs for almost 6 months now. And until this weekend, two printers were in that stack. I’m adding my most recent printer, a gift from my friend Tracy that I just couldn’t get to work. I am immensely grateful for Tracy’s friendship and generosity but this printer is a malfunctioning piece of designed-by-committee-for-profit tech that is essentially a scam designed to sell ink cartridges.

I hate them. But I need a printer. What should I do? I decided I would follow Nilay Patel’s advice and just get whatever Brother printer was on sale. It’s shipping to me even as I type this. It was a bit more than I wanted to spend, but my last two printers were free; it likely all evens out over time. Brother printers apparently do not do that thing where they only accept official Brother cartridges and have hard-coded deadlines beyond which they will not print until you buy new cartridges (I’m lookin’ at you, HP) so that’s a relief.

One of the reasons I want a printer now after having no working printer for a year is because I want to print maps and things for my upcoming in-person D&D game. Have I talked about that yet? Several folks in my group are coming in to town for a long weekend of nothing but games. Old men pretending we’re young once again. Playing all night like we did when we were teenagers. I am so very excited.

But also, I’m anxious. This weekend is going to be a big deal, or should I say, A Big Deal™. As the (one of the) Dungeon Masters it’s my reponsibility to present cool ideas and plots and characters. When we play online I only have to create digital maps and images, and there are enough tools out there that let someone who is more of an ideas guy create decent pictures. In-person means physical maps, actual minatures, physical props. I’ve got just over 3 weeks. What can I do in that time?

If I had a good printer I could print out some of the digital maps. Out comes the credit card, and by credit card I mean transfer from savings because I don’t have a lot of available credit. One problem, solved.

But miniatures? That requires purchasing them… or 3D printing them. Who do I know that has a 3D printer? Unfortunately, the first people I know with 3D printers are my players. They are all nerds like me. And they are all gainfully employed and have been for a while. I am certain they would be willing to print things for me; however, it would spoil the surprise.

Another option is buying one, but since I just bought a regular laser printer, I’m somewhat cash poor. Don’t have the cash flow for that.

Another option is using Multnomah County Library’s 3D printing service. However, printing an army of miniatures feels like abuse; it’s a free service after all. And some of the things I want to print might just possibly be copyrighted and trademarked material (no spoilers) so it’s likely they might deny my request.

I kept asking around, though, and I asked a coworker if they’d be willing to print some things for me. They’re counter-offer was to just loan me the printer! I about fell out of my chair. That’s incredibly generous. They said they rarely use it, and it would clear out some closet space. Looks like I’m going to be able to print whatever I want in the three weeks until the game.

Printers. I hate them. But they’re so very useful.