SoW: Hall of Heroes

The PCs delve deeper under the monastery, and find only more orcs and dwarf corpses.

This is a fairly straight-forward encounter featuring soldiers and brutes. That’s a thematic but problematic mix, in that brutes in 4e are generally too easy too kill and/or too ineffective, whereas soldiers are the complete opposite.

Fortunately, the vast majority (7 vs 3) of the enemies in this combat fall on the brute side of the spectrum, so the encounter errs on the side of speedy resolution rather than potential drudgery.

(Which is nominally ironic, because 6 of those brutes are called drudges... Sorry, that’s the English major in me coming out.)

The drudges and the orc berserker are fairly boring foes. They hit things with their axes. Once per encounter, the berserker can hit something with its axe and also spend a healing surge. Not exactly a thrilling opponent.

The orog militants aren’t terribly much more exciting, but they do give the DM more toys to play with. Their relentless power is effectively the fighter power tide of iron by another name, their fierce counterstrike immediate reaction power allows them to take a free attack when an adjacent ally is first bloodied, and their discipline ability grants them +2 to saves while adjacent to allies.

Put all that together, and a very clear picture emerges of how this combat should be run by the bad guys. 2 of the 3 orogs work as a pair, staying adjacent at all times if possible to gain the benefit of fierce counterstrike and discipline. The other orog should work with the berserker for the same reason. While those kill teams do their work, the drudges gang up on enemies to grant flanking and/or use the aid another action. With 10 enemies vs 5 PCs, those tactics should be viable for at least a few round.

Of course, with nothing but melee beaters for enemies, there is significant risk of this combat being a boring grind, and there’s little in the vicinity that can spice it up.

While the braziers leave the middle of the hall unlit (they only shed light in a 10-square radius), that’s unlikely to prove interesting for two reasons: (1) the PCs will likely have a light source with them, and (2) there’s no artillery, skirmisher, or lurker in this encounter to take advantage of that darkness.

There’s no reason for the PCs or enemies to go up to the balconies (and subsequently get thrown off), and the only piece of truly interactive terrain (the braziers) are placed out of the way in the corners. This could have been a much more interesting combat if the braziers were in the middle of the hall and the combatants had a real chance to knock those things over on each other…

Encounter rating: 2+

SSTL 37: By the Fires of Creation

The Heroes of Winterhaven explore Umbraforge further, then find a way into Michael the Burnt’s tower.

Read the full recap here.

This was another exploration/roleplay-heavy session and, to be honest, it felt strained. Our DM has confided to me that he thinks we don’t want freedom but prefer to be railroaded. I’m not convinced he’s right, but it is true that the session didn’t really have any drive.

For me, that stemmed largely from the fact that our explicit objective – to reach and kill Paldemar – was blocked by an impenetrable tower and guards, and there was no easy way for us to investigate alternatives. We were, after all in the middle of a tent town filled to the brim with evil-inclined mercenaries, ogres and trolls, with Kir-Lanan wings flying sorties around the tower. In those circumstances, you can’t really just saunter into the local bar and ask around for the guy that knows a back way into the fort.

After the DM voiced his concerns, I suggested to him that it might have been better to let us catch and kill Paldemar in the Shadowfell cave, but have no immediate way of getting home. That way we would be forced to investigate Umbraforge for solutions, but wouldn’t have the clock running against us while Paldemar discovered we weren’t back in the Hall (he’s had plenty of time now to travel back and forth and make that discovery). In response, he gave me some very good and valid reasons why he hadn’t done it that way. And to be honest, I’m not sure I would have done it that way either without the benefit of hindsight.

If anything comes from the experience, I think it’s the realisation that exploration and immersion require the PCs to have enough time to experience them. Time pressures (real or imagined) focus the players on goals to the detriment of exploration.

I get the feeling that Bengi’s time in the spotlight is coming, and I’m looking forward to it. Pieter has been in the spotlight for most of the heroic tier (largely because I was one of the players that gave the DM the most usable background story) and it’s probably time for him to step back a little and let one or more of the other PCs steal the show for a while.

SoW Hall of Moradin

The PCs push deeper into the Monastery of the Sundered Chain, only to find horror awaiting them.

If there’s anything that gets most players’ blood boiling, it’s desecrated altars and murdered priests of one of the good gods. Well, the orcs have done that in spades here. This room should be magnificent and awe-inspiring. Instead it’s a giant slaughterhouse with effluent and entrails strewn across Moradin’s altar.

Standing in the middle of it all is an orc witch doctor, grime-covered claws dripping with blood. If that’s not enough to have your (dwarf) PCs rushing headlong into battle, I don’t know what is.

The crone is supported by two orc bolt throwers on balconies overhead, and a sergeant and 4 drudges appear from a secret door beneath the altar at the start of the second round.

I suspect that the bolt throwers won’t last long. Although they’re attempting to hide, it’s only a DC 17 perception check (which most rangers and some rogues – not to mention most eladrins of any stripe - will make passively) to spot them before they open fire and then it’s just a short trip up the stairs to stab them a few times and throw them off the balcony to their deaths.

(Incidentally, even if your PCs don’t explicitly throw them off the balcony, you should. It’s what always happens at the end of every fight on a raised platform – you have to play to these conventions, you know…)

That of course, leads us to the fact that the adventure doesn’t tell us exactly how high the balconies are. Take your pick, but I’d put them at 10’ high.

The sergeant and the  drudges will likely be your PCs’ first encounter with an enemy using a reach weapon to hide behind its allies, and the difficult terrain surrounding the altar could make it hard for melee PCs to nail down the sergeant without first killing all the drudges. Do whatever it takes to keep the PCs in that area but the orcs outside it. It’s your best chance for making this encounter memorable.

That and play up the reality of what it’s like to fight an orc witch doctor. With powers like disgusting claws, curse of Gruumsh and unspeakable filth, I’m sure it’s not a pleasant experience.

Encounter rating: 3

Raiders of Oakhurst; Epilogue

We spent the night ensconced in Meepo’s former throne room, half expecting the kobold king to return in the twilight hours. But the night passed uneventfully, and we set out for Oakhurst early the next day.

Our entry into town was cause for jubilation, and Terren Oakhurst rushed out of his store to usher us into the Sleeping Dragon, where Mathwyn immediately place foaming tankards of ale before us. Townsfolk came from all directions to hear our tale, and even though Mathwyn offered her neighbours a “victory discount” I imagine she did better business that day than any other day before or since.

As Corrin, Skamos and I happily cradled our pints, Tira climbed up onto one of the room’s tables and regaled the villagers with stories of our adventure. The assembled men and women oohed and aahed on cue, and the warlock lapped up the attention like the performer that she was. When she reached the point at which we encountered the dragon, she reached down beneath the table and grabbed the large burlap sack there. The dragon’s severed head spilled out of it and landed with a thud on the tavern’s common room floor, causing the townsfolk to jump back in fright. Even dead, the creature’s visage was fearsome. Mathwyn’s daughter Laurel screamed and staggered backwards, tripping and landing in my lap. She flung her arms around me with terror, but then our eyes met and she jumped back to her feet. She flashed me a smile before disappearing into the kitchen, her cheeks filling with colour.

The celebrations lasted long into the night. When the Sleeping Dragon’s ale and wine stocks ran out, farmer and blacksmith alike vanished to their homes and returned with stores of whiskey and spirits.

Corrin was at the centre of the festivities, dancing with as many women as he could, and boasting to all of the men who would listen. But in between, he sought out the survivors from Waymoot to offer them his condolences and his company. More than once I saw him huddled in some quiet nook with two or three of them, talking quietly as villagers caroused around them. When last I saw him, he was sitting in the common room of the inn with a protective arm around Sofia. The halfling woman’s composure had finally cracked, and she was weeping softly against Corrin’s chest as he whispered soothing words into her hair.

Skamos initially kept to himself within the walls of the Sleeping Dragon and the straight-laced tiefling was largely ignored by the revelers. Only when Terren Oakhurst ordered a bonfire built in the main square did the wizard move outside. The leaping flames kindled his stony heart, and he spent the remainder of the evening conjuring lights and fire for a crowd of drunken spectators. As I wandered through the throng, I stopped in surprise. Despite all of the wondrous and fearsome sights I had seen over the previous few days, the grin splitting Skamos’ face that night was the one that surprised me the most.

Tira was courted by the town’s men, and she left them all with nothing more than a flashing smile and a flick of auburn hair. As if the men were not enough, a horde of women and young girls swamped her whenever she was managed to escape the men. They clamoured for her to re-tell our tale, and she was happy to oblige them. Some of the younger girls stared at her with mouths agape, and I smiled to think of the new generation of female adventurers that she was creating that night. Hours later, Picard appeared in the main square and Tira spent the early hours dancing and laughing with the eladrin ranger. The two of them seemed perfectly suited to each other and when last I saw them they were striding off into the darkness, bodies locked together in a passionate embrace.

As for me, I spent the night moving from group to group, enjoying the hospitality of Oakhurst’s citizens. I rarely went for more than a few minutes without a flagon of ale in my hand. First Terren, then Mathwyn, and then a steady stream of nameless villagers congratulated me on our victory and thanked me for our aid. More than once someone clapped my injured shoulder enthusiastically, only to apologise noisily when I grimaced in pain. But overall, the night was one of revelry and celebration, and I celebrated as much as anyone else.

As the darkness receded and the first glimmers of dawn appeared on the horizon, I found myself standing at the foot of Oakhurst’s statue to Amaunator. Around me, townsfolk drifted off to seek what little sleep they could find before the bland realities of life would call them to move on from their celebration and face the new day. For the first time in hours, silence fell over Oakhurst’s main square and, without meaning to, I found myself thinking of all that had happened since I left Kronos Keep less than a week earlier.

I had achieved much in that short time, perhaps more than most people would achieve in a life time. Many people had called me a hero that night, but in the cold light of that early dawn, my thoughts were instead drawn to the things that we had not achieved. I thought of the devastation in Waymoot, and of the innocents that had died there. I thought of Meepo, slinking through the night somewhere and doubtless planning further atrocities. But mostly I thought of the Ubler family, father, mother, son and toddler daughter lying in shallow graves outside a home that they had believed safe. A tear welled in my eye and then trickled down my cheek as I remembered cradling Ubler’s toddler in my arms as I laid her in the earth.

Movement in the background caught my eye and I looked up toward the shrine on the far side of the square. Olvar stood in the doorway, tired and stooped, but beaming with happiness. Sybil nestled against his shouder, her hands placed lovingly on his chest and the locket that we had recovered from Belazamon’s tomb around her neck. Their body language spoke of intimacy and love, and it was clear that Olvar had managed to cross the emotional distance that had separated them for so long. I returned the old priest’s smile. Perhaps we had made a difference after all.

I felt a smooth hand slide into mine, and looked around to find Laurel standing behind me. She smiled gently and closed her fingers around my unresisting hand. And then she wordlessly led me out of the square and into the Sleeping Dragon. We climbed the stairs to her room hand in hand, and the last thing I saw before I stopped caring about such things was the sun rising above the mountains to the east.

And that’s the end of Raider’s of Oakhurst.

Thanks firstly to Olgar Shiverstone for penning the adventure upon which this story hour is based. If you hadn’t written it, we couldn’t have played it. And if we hadn’t played it, I couldn’t have written this.

Thanks also to all of the other gamers who contributed to the Raiders Reloaded project, especially Xorn for creating the dundjinni maps. My group played the adventure online over Battlegrounds RPG and your maps made the whole thing a visual feast for us all.

Thanks to Peter (a.k.a Nortonweb) for DMing the adventure for us. D&D may be a game of co-operative storytelling, but you set the canvas on which we paint and you did so while dealing not only with new (and when we started still-unfinished) rules but also unfamiliar technology. Without your patience and investment of time and effort, this story hour would never have come into being.

Thanks to Troy for bringing Corrin to life, and for all the times that stalwart halfling saved Erais’ bacon. Thanks to Rich for being Tira’s confidence and courage. And thanks to Andrew (a.k.a Nom) for adding the brimstone to our tiefling wizard.

Thanks to my loving wife for putting up with an annoyingly slow writer. As I said to her at the time, “ The journey’s over now, so I’ll be back to watch All Saints with you soon”.

And finally, thanks to everyone who has read this. Although writing is personally rewarding for me, your support helped keep me motivated to tell our tale.

I hope you enjoyed it.

Portrait Commissioned

It’s not often that I go completely geek and spend money on something that will have no use in my general day-to-day life.

However, I had a birthday recently and decided that it would be nice to break that rule for once.

So what did I buy?

I’ve sent a commission to artist Storn Cook (that's some of his work on the left), asking him to prepare a portrait of my 4e D&D cleric, the irrepressible Pieter Grimm.

I’ve been a fan of Storn’s work for a while now since I saw some of his portraits on EN world. I can’t wait to see how he brings Pieter to life.

I’ll keep you posted on the progress and of course will be parading the finished product around like a madman once it’s in my hot little digital hands.

SoW: Orc Sentries

The PCs arrive at the monastery to discover they are too late; the holy place has been overrun by orcs.

If these sentries are the best that Tusk’s horde have to offer, then Overlook can rest easy. They’re not even smart enough to post an orc or two outside (or on top of) the 50’ walls. As it is, unless your PCs sound like a marching band, they will be within 25’ of the orcs before the greyskins even know they’re there.

That’s not necessarily bad storytelling (the introduction to the encounter specifies that “although charged with guard duty, the orcs are lax and more interested in feeding their hunger.”) but it is curious encounter design. It almost smacks of the thinking: let’s skip the sneaking/tactics part and let the players smack things.

As a DM, I would be tempted to post some of the orcs on the wall, and then let the PCs puzzle out how to get inside against concerted resistance.

This is, after all, a level 1 encounter. The PCs should by now be level 3 and these sentries don’t really stand a chance as written.

Another odd aspect of design is that the orc raiders (R) have been placed at the campfire closest to the PC entrance. As the only ranged attackers in the encounter, that seems sub-optimal. Of course, orc raiders aren’t great ranged attackers (they’re better off swinging away with their greataxes), so it’s not that big a loss.

With sub-optimal opposition and an uninspiring encounter area, this one might need some work to make it feel like anything other than a speedbump. I’d recommend that you have half of the sentries (but no more than one of the raiders) retreat into the Hall of Moradin and join the other orcs there – at least then that encounter will be interesting.

Encounter rating: 1

Raiders of Oakhurst; Ch 4.5

I was woken by small hands, cold as a chunk of ice, against my sternum. Even over the ache that filled me, the feel of Corrin’s knuckles against my breastbone brought me around in a wave of agony. The snow upon which I rested was cold, it paled into insignificance compared to the chill in my bones. I coughed weekly and opened my eyes. Corrin crouched above me, with Skamos’ concerned face behind him. Tira stood beside Skamos, her mouth a concerned ‘O’. When my eyes met hers, her mouth reverted to a teasing grin. “Wakey wakey, sleepyhead,” she said in a sing-song tone.

I grimaced and raised a hand to my head, and found it wrapped tightly with bandages. My left arm was bound to my chest with more cloth, and I struggled to sit up with only one free hand. Tira reached down and helped me rise.

“The dragon?” I asked, and they stepped aside, revealing the beast’s corpse behind them. I could not help but breathe a sigh of relief. I looked again at my companions, taking them in. Corrin was covered with livid purple and blue bruises, and his face was chapped and raw. Dried blood marred his cheek, having trickled from one of his ears. Skamos’ robes were little more than tatters, hanging from his red-tinged flesh in strips. He fidgeted absent-mindedly with one of his horns, and I noticed with a start that the last inch of it had been chipped off, exposing the discoloured interior. Tira was the most presentable of the three, and I almost laughed. Of course she was. She always was. She seems to have come through the battle without a scratch, but her usually immaculate auburn tresses were tossed and frazzled, and her fingertips were blue with cold.

“How?” I asked, and began to climb to my feet.

Corrin smiled, and his teeth flashed whiter than the snow surrounding us.

“It was you that killed it, in a way.”

I grimaced at him in confusion.

“Each time the beast attacked you, Tymora punished it for ignoring my challenge. And finally, I imagine she’d had enough. The dragon perished seconds after you fell.”

I paused, considering his answer. The last moments of the battle replayed themselves in my mind and I recalled thinking that my luck had finally run out. The irony was delicious, and I could not help but laugh. “Curse your goddess, Corrin,“ I said without malice. “How can she bring me good luck and bad luck at the same time!”

Corrin laughed, and Tira soon joined in. Skamos simply stood there, scratching at his broken horn and wondering what the joke was.