Stories in the Naked City

Here's an eclectic sampling of people from the streets of Terminus, most distant outpost of the fallen Thystaran empire, in the south of the continent of Arn:

Kro One-Eye: Alcoholic, and possibly consumptive, swordmaster. He either lost his left eye to a rebel in the Dharwood, or to an angry whore, depending on how deep into the cups he his when he gets 'round to the tale. He's a fixture in dives along Wine and Tavern Streets, regaling fellow patrons with daring (and dubious) tales of his youthful adventures, and the occasional demonstration of his skills. For a cup of watered wine he'll give a few pointers on use of the blade. For a bottle of good Kael whiskey, he'll take on a student. For a small cask of vintage Trosian Red, he'll fight at your side--as long as it doesn't take him far from the River District. (Looks like: Sam Elliott (with an eyepatch) circa Roadhouse; and Sounds like: Gary Oldman).

Nari: Dancing-girl and part-time professional mourner, residing in Copper Court. When not performing, her demeanor suggests she's seen it all and found most of it excruciatingly dull. When dancing, she can be found at the Quivering Navel, and in her off-hours she's often found smoking djesha-leaf resin from a waterpipe at Gelv's House of Innumerable Pleasures (where the pleasures are far from innumerable--perhaps only in the single digits). She can be relied upon to have heard a good deal of gossip and rumor, though she's also guaranteed not to have found much of it particularly interesting. (Looks like: Caroline Munro circa 1973).

The Gate Street Players: Ten thespians--six male, four female--operating out of a small theater on Gate Street. The Players tend to perform daring reinterpretations of the classics. Their current production is a take on Teleganexes' The Fall of Iztlann, where the traditionally male roles of protagonist Dyzanarios and his sword-brother Tekromo are played by women, and tragic ending is replaced by the two heroes--heroines--entering into a ménage à trois with Yla, the villainous witch-seductress. Their next production is to be the infamous Llysan work The King in Tatters, written by a madman, and performed just once--for the court of the Llysan Emperor the faithful night the execution of a peasant girl for diablerie failed, and the Emperor and his court died weird, and horrible deaths. Superstitious rumor holds the play is cursed and its performance opens a gate to dread planes. The Gate Street Players are undeterred.

Hrasthus Nort: Vagabond, beggar, and ambassador for the Vagrant City of Lardafa, the shanty-Atlantis of the Great Marsh. Nort, dressed like a ragged courtier come forth from the tomb after a half-century, is most often found around the the government offices, but sometimes takes a drink along Tavern Street. He carries a ragged sheet of sheepskin with the crudely drawn seal of Lardafa as a sign of his office, and is always accompanied by his similarly dressed attache--a mocking-monkey called Jip. Nort panhandles for coin, proselytizes to the poor about the wonders of Lardafa, and waits for his never-to-come audience with the Governor-Prefect. Sometimes, after a few drinks, he hints of ancient, eldritch things discovered in the depths of the swamp, dark bargains struck by Lardafa's Burgomaster Jero Flistapp, and a growing, unspoken fear among the city's populace. (Looks like: "Gabby" Hayes; and Sounds like: Brian Cox as Jack Langrishe in Deadwood).

Yreel Dahyût: One of the few women in the city watch, and the only officer currently. Dahyût is tall, and beautiful, if somewhat severe, in her always polished armor and spotless uniform. The deference granted her, and her bearing and diction, suggest an origin among the minor noble families of the Tabeidonian or Vararian Towers. Cursory inquiries would reveal this to be false. Dahyût has no family--indeed she has no history at all. She simply appeared one day as a high-placed and respected member of the watch. The purpose of this subterfuge, and the means by which is was accomplished remain unanswered questions. (Looks like: Kristanna Loken).

Scum and Villainy

"She had to remind herself that he was not much more evil than most evil men."

- Fritz Leiber, "The Cloud of Hate"

Here's a hand full of villains involved in criminal enterprise from the streets of Terminus, last outpost of the fallen Thystaran empire, in the south of the continent of Arn:

Pnathfrem Lloigor: Vintner and boss of dives on the east of the city, between the River Fflish and Lion Street. He’s immensely fat, and balding, but also a dandy, given to dressing in ostentatious silks and gaudy jewelry. His high-pitched voice leads to rumor that he is a eunuch, but it’s an affectation. He enjoys putting off visitors of both sexes with leering glances, and suggestive quotes from his extensive collection of Zycanthine erotic literature.  Physically weak but shrewd, Lloigor might have long ago been displaced, except that he has a cousin in the Thaumaturgists Guild who has been known to come to his aid.

Sodmos Jasp: Bald, jaundiced, and skeletally-thin but for a pot-belly, he suffers from a metabolic malady no doubt caused by alchemical experimentation. He owns fourteen brothels and six pleasure dens on the west side, south of the river and north of Courtesan Street. His hated enemy to the east is Pnathfrem Lloigor. He made his start as a back-alley alchemist, and still carries on a side business selling cheap poisons, noxious contraceptives, and dubious aphrodisiacs. He is protected from enemies real and imagined by his dear, deadly, Saatha.

Saatha: An Amazonian woman in a silken veil and little else. The greenish tint to her skin and the vertical slits of her pupils in her jade eyes suggest otherwise. She wields twin, ornate scimitars which look like they're made of bronze, but are not. Their swift and deadly in her hands. It has been said that she is from a distance world--the Place of the Blood Red Sun, and that she has been bound to the service of Jasp. That's what rumors say. Saatha never speaks.

Tyrus Vaanth: Prominent slaver, and sophisticate. He's well-dressed, cruelly handsome--and just cruel. But never should it be said that he's impolite--unless one's at the end of his rapier. He's called "Whitehands" after the pristine white gloves he habitually wears. He fears contagion and sickness of all kinds. In times of stress he holds a perfumed cloth over his mouth to ward off miasmas. He seldom goes anywhere without his personal physicker, Doctor Panggiss.

Elrood Panggiss: Serves Tyrus Vaanth as both physicker and torturer. He's accent is foreign, but vague. He's rumored to be exiled from the court of some foreign potentate for unspecified crimes. His usually rigid and controlled demeanor hides a heart of sadist. He's addicted to analeptic zauphur which he carries in a silver snuff-box. His use of the stimulant feeds his growing paranoia, and fuels his cold depravity.  He's as proficient with a dagger (always envemoned with an exotic and efficient poison) as he is with scalpel, but considers it beneath him to use it except in direst need.

Handsome Sclaug: Half-ogre enforcer whose scarred visage is the opposite of his nickname.  He made a name for himself as a pit-fighter, but gave that up for for a more lucrative career working for various crime bosses.  He disdains weapons, preferring to use his ham-sized fists, augmented by (perhaps ensorcelled) cesti.  He does talk much, but is said to a pleasant singing voice.

Wizards Three and the Apportioning of Loot

Amid the works constantly updated in the Library-University of Tharkad-Keln is an encyclopedia of famous, or infamous, mages. In its pages, one may find the likes of Kulu, Urthona, and of course, Yzorddathrexes.

Among the lesser--but no less interesting--arcane practitioners are the three wizards from the tavern tale "The Apportioning of the Loot." While we'll not concern ourselves with a recitation of that tale here, the strange events in the life of its principles are worthy of consideration, if for no other reason than they underscore the dangers of the thaumaturgical arts.

Kodos Nharn: Youngest of the three wizards, Nharn was a voluptuary, or (self-proclaimed) aesthete of worldly pleasures. He and Elberond Turms had quarrelled over a wand of exquisite workmanship and obvious sorcerous potency, and might have come to violence over it, had not Yrrol Othus interceded with a compromise. Turms got the wand, and Nharn two other items--a scroll and a jeweled bracelet. The bracelet he sold to pay off the debts accrued from his extravagant lifestyle. The scroll he kept, as he found it to be an item unchronicled in any catalog of arcane antiquities he consulted.

It was only seen once by anyone other than Nharn, as far as is known. A servant reported it to be a painting of an audience room of a sort, well-appointed, wherein a voluptuous, darkhaired woman in diaphonous green robes reclined on a great couch upon a dais. She was attended by beautiful youths of both sexes, also attired in diaphonous tunics. There was a sorcerous aspect to the painting in that, the servant averred, it looked like a scene from life somehow frozen in time rather than an artifact of brush and paint.

Nharn took the painting to his private chamber and it was never seen again. Nharn seldom emerged from his chamber thereafter, except to call from something from his servants. It was said that sounds of feasting and merriment, and strange music could be heard coming from the room, and sometimes unmistakably, more--primal--sounds of pleausure emerged. Yet no one but Nharn was ever admitted to the room.

This went on for a year. Then, on the night of midsummer, in the small hours, a beautiful, darkhaired woman emerged from the room. In a strange accent, but unmistakable tone of command, she released the servants from their duties. Then, she disappeared into the night. Nharn's creditor's took the house and all his belongings, including a weirdly realistic painting of a thin and dissipated Nharn, lolling drunkenly on a great couch, surrounded by sunken-eyed youths. This last item was purchased at auction by an anonymous collector, and has never been seen again.

Elberond Turms: A wizard of middling talent, but of some renown for his highly developed sense of fashion. Thanks to his wit and style, Turms was frequent a guest of the nobility. Turms was given a wand of exceedingly fine make from the haul. This wand increased his abilities several fold, and with its powers, combined with the patronage of his social connections, Turms established himself in Zycanthlarion. Turms was quit successful for many years, and the wand was seldom out of his hands. He was seen to talk to it at times, perhaps even argue with it. This eccentricity did little to harm him socially, but not so an ill-considered comment made publicly.

Perhaps under the influence of too much Trosian wine, Turms compared himself favorably with Yzorddathrexes. Though the archmage had not been seen for centuries, his Eidolon Tower still appeared above the city, and at intervals its base appeared in its streets. The tower and its master evoked a good deal of superstitious dread. Fearing sorcerous retribution for the insult, high society began to shun Turms, who soon turned to mind-numbing drugs to ease his own anxieties. First ostracized, then reclusive, Turms had vanished from Zycanthlarion altogether within months of the comment. A ragged street mountebank meeting Turms description (if one allows for the ravages of self-abuse) drowned (or was perhaps fatally bitten by a river-shark, accounts differ) in the town of Eelsport, after a lengthy argument with the fancy scepter he gripped tightly, even into death. Zycanthlarion society is still divided on whether the great Yzorddathrexes ever redressed the insult or not. The wand presumably lies in an unmarked grave still held in a moldering hand.

Yrrol Othus: Oldest and wisest of the three, it is said, Othus was not given to weaknesses of carnality, vanity, or over-ambition. To Othus, the supreme pleasure of the arcane arts was in acquiring knowledge. He chose from the treasures a potion--transparent in color, but given to producing prismatic eddies and oil-slick iridescence when shaken or swirled. The substance in the vial is now know by alchemical sages to have been phantasmagoric ahlzo. Uncharacteristically rash ingestion of the liquid led Othus to be able to perceive the noumenal planes and their denizens intersecting our own world unseen. Leading to even greater disorientation, he began to perceive the seething, chaotic maelstrom which arcane philosophers hold forms the multiverse's substratum. Alternately driven to horror and ecstasy by these visions, Othus eventually sought out the Harlequin Mage, and with that insane dwarf as a guide is said to have descended into a green-lit subterranean realm where the roiling, gelatinous dream-fragment of a dead, chaos god-thing was to be found.

No one knows, of course, what became of him, but two schools of thought predominate. One holds that he was there subsumed into the insane godhead and exists now only as a ephemeral fancy in that unfathomable mind. The other theorizes that he retains his form and individually and stays as the deity's sole worshipper, receiving its whispered, incoherent pronouncements for eternity.

Post-Game Report: After the Wave

Uncertainty in the wake of a tsunami. The vague feeling persists that the party has missed something (and they have). When in doubt, seek out Magical Orders for answers. Renin’s prophetic dream is better appreciated post-disaster. Riches fallen from the sky are on everyone’s mind—but how to get to them? A ship is needed, but in a devastated port, none are available. Old enemies in the criminal underworld are approached, and agreements struck, but sea transport isn’t one of them. A detour to haggle with a magic-monger proves fruitful. On the other hand, smuggler kingpins are busy men and difficult to contact through strangely-accented intermediaries. A chance encounter offers a ship for hire within the week, and reveals the troubling history of the destination.

Sunday's installment of our Warriors & Warlocks campaign, freely adapted from Paizo's The Second Darkness, featured the usual cast: Zarac the acquisitive veteran, Renin the psionicist with the troubling dream, and Brother Gannon the thief in monk's clothes.  Apearances were made by the half-elf mage Samyrantha Bel-Tanis, their friend in the Esoteric Order of the Cryptograhers, and their enemy, crime boss Clegg Haddo, who's now their business partner in the gambling house they "inherited."  The party's new employer was introduced: merchant speculator Tavrem Kalus.

This session revealed one of the problems inherent in the the whole "adventure path" thing. The player's missed out on a major story reveal at the end of the first module, which was no big deal there--advice was even give on how to handle that--but module two begins with assumption that the player's got all the pertinent information from the last one, and offers no alternatives. It wasn't terribly difficult to work around--after all, the total of modules I've gamemastered in my whole career being somewhere short of ten, I'm used to making stuff up--but it seems an oversight.

So left in the limbo between the official end of the last module, and the vague beginnings of this one, the player's got a little time in the "sandbox" of the city of Raedelsport, which I worried might bore them, but apparently didn't.

Despite the over a month gap since we last gamed, the player's are actually beginning to remember stuff about the city's locations and personalities (or at least getting better at remembering where to find them in their notes). Everyone seems to be having a good time, though the two more novice players (one of them just started playing with this campaign) are a little tentative at times.

And we've finally arrived at a system to ensure the economic burden of the traditional game pizza order is shared fair and equitably by habitual cash carriers and non-carriers alike, so there's that.

The Unquiet Library

The Library of Tharkad-Keln is considered one of the wonders of the known world. Built in an earlier age, possibly by the mysterious Dungeon Builders themselves, the library is said to hold a copy of every written record of note in the Thystaran sphere. Hyperbole aside, the library is undoubtedly the greatest repository of knowledge currently in existence and a center for scholarship.

The library is a many-floored, conical stone structure—almost like an artificial mountain peak—situated on a volcanic plug just off the western coast of Arn. It’s connected to the mainland by a series of bridges across two smaller plugs. It seems to have powerful magics worked upon it so that it stays an almost constant temperature and humidity on the interior—though their have been times where this protection waned for unknown reasons in areas. Most rooms are filled with rows upon rows of ceiling high shelves in various arrangements made of an unknown material. Many walls are decorated with reliefs of an owl-headed man with a muscular body, dressed only in a breechclout and sandals. This figure resembles Seiptis, the Thystaran god of knowledge, in the traditional depiction—which held to derive from the stereotypical dress of an ancient Thystaran amanuensis. The presence of these images in a structure that predates Thystara’s rise is puzzling.

The library’s inhabitants and staff are demihumans called “gnomes.” This name creates some confusion as the library folk aren’t “true” gnomes (those being part of an ultraterrestrial incursion from the elemental planes), but instead an offshoot of halfling stock. The gnomes came to Tharkad-Keln sometime before the Thystaran Empire reached Arn, perhaps as long ago as the collapse of the Thalarion Hegemony, which is believed to be the fallen, final remnant of the Godmaker culture in Arn.

At first, the library merely provided shelter for the proto-gnomic tribes. Over time, the scrolls and codices found therein began to take on a cultural significance for them. Wars were fought between tribes occupying the natural philosophy and literature sections. Annals written from oral tradition dating to that time suggest there was once a bloody chieftain who rose to found a dynasty from the recesses of the culinary stacks. Even into historic times, when scholars first began to make pilgrimages to the library, care had to be taken to pay tribute to the various gnomic gangs that lurk in less traveled wings and move about through secret passages to prey upon the unwary.

Over time, the halflings came to see the books and learning as of preeminent, almost religious, importance. Generations changed them from a culture of savages to one of scholars. The old tribal system was replaced by guilds which are involved in various aspects of tending the library and serving visitors; there are guides to help pilgrims, runners to carry messages, and guardsmen to enforce the peace.

Thystaran records recount the first visit of their scholars to Tharkad-Keln over a hundred years before the fall of the Empire. The leader of the gnomes, named Atoz Yoron (the “brek” cognomen had not yet been adopted), is already given the title of “magister”—a title which survives to this day, though currently there is rule by a magisterial council rather than an individual.

The gnomes have developed an unusual supplementary language which contains a number of monosyllabic affixes that are reference codes to bibliographical citations of accumulated gnomic wisdom. This allows the gnomes to communicate very complicated and/or detailed bits of information in a concise fashion. This language isn’t secret, but neither is it actively taught to non-gnomes.

Another distinctive gnomic accoutrement is the geithi stick. These walking staffs serve as a sort of curriculum vitae. Gnomic scholars have glyphs representing their major scholarly accomplishments carved upon their geithi sticks. Approval for each glyph carved must be given by a peer review committee, and a dictionary of authorized glyphs is held (predictably) in the library’s gnomic culture section.

Something Wicked: The Drow

"The tiers and dungeons of Erelhei-Cinlu reek of debauchery and decadence...Unspeakable things transpire where the evil and jaded creatures seek pleasure, pain, excitement, or arcane knowledge, and sometimes these seekers find they are victims."

- Gary Gygax, Vault of the Drow

Like regular elves, drow provoke ambivalence in the collecitve gamer heart. Thanks mostly to R.A. Salvatore's Drizzt do'Urden books, and an enduring viusal appeal (at least the drow females), they have a prominent place in tabletop and computer rpgs. On the other hand, charges of implicit racism and sexism, and general blacklash against overexposure, fan flames in many a message board thread.

Having never read a Drizzt novel (and never intending to, honestly), my appreciation of the drow comes mainly from the AD&D D and Q modules that dealt with them. There, they were exotic and powerful adversaries. Then came Unearthed Arcana, which gave us drow as a (somewhat overpowered) player character race. Players always like more options--particularly "cool" ones--but there the seeds were sown for over-familiarity and the contempt which usually follows.

So in trying to do a little re-imagining of the drow for my current campaign world, I wanted to chart a course between the purely villainous drow of the early D&D modules, and the posing, voluptuous viragos and emo-Elric wannabes of today. Since I've conceived the world's "high elves" as posthuman, glam anarcho-capitalists, and the "gray elves" as alien beings partaking of the melancholic sense of "passing" found in Tolkien's elves and Yag-kosha in Howard's "Tower of the Elephant," it seems proper to me that the dark elves should have pulp roots growing though Lovecraft's K'n-yan, and Clark Ashton Smithian decadence, which break the surface in the vicinity of Hellraiser, along the Left Hand Path, posted with fuzzy LaVey philosophy.

"Do what thou wilt" shall be the whole of Drow law, I think.

"free and wild and beyond good and evil, with laws and morals thrown aside and all men shouting and killing and revelling in joy...all the earth would flame with a holocaust of ecstasy and freedom."

- H.P. Lovecraft, "The Call of Cthulhu"

Like all the aethyr, the elves of the world of Arn, the drau, or "drow," are beings aligned to extraplanar chaos. Unlike the other elves, who are general beneficent, and aligned to the extraplanar power of "good," drow have chosen the path of egotism without concern for concepts like morality, and have aligned themselves with "evil."

These philosophical differences long ago caused a schism among the elves, and led to the drow being driven underground. There, they nurse their ancient enmities and plan for a chance at revenge.  They past the time until that day in strange pleasures--byzantine intrigues, arcane drugs, elaborate assassinations, and baroque orgies. 

The primary goddess of the drow is Lolth, the Demon Queen of Spiders. Like all demons, Lolth seeks the destruction of all matter and form, the dissolution of the multiverse, and a return to a state of pure chaos--but she wishes to enjoy every sensation and fulfill every other desire prior to that end. She offers her faithful the same reward, and finds her chosen people enthusiastic followers.

There are legends that hold that Lolth was once an elven sorceress in a time before there were drow. In the pursuit of knowledge and experience beyond what she could find on this plane, Lolth trafficked with demons from the Abyss. Tricked by a demon lord and cast into the abyssal depths, Lolth was forced to live through a myriad of lives, deaths, and physical forms, experiencing all the inhuman horrors and pleasures that fiendish minds older than the earth can conceive. After lifetimes, she arrived at the realm of the demon lord, who she thanked--and then slew. At that moment, a new demon queen was born.

Drow are often as ambitious as their goddess. Implicit in her teachings is the opportunity for any drow to ascend and claim her power for their own.

Lolth sits at the center of her demonweb and waits, nourishing herself on the partially dissolved souls of those who have challenged her before.

See Their Faces in Golden Rays: Elves Unveiled

"You gotta make way for the homo superior."

- David Bowie, "Oh! You Pretty Things"

Elves, in just about any D&D-inspired game, are smarter, more graceful, and better looking than--well, everybody. Ever wonder how they got that way?

Western fantasy literature has long contained the thematic element of "the fall"--the idea that beings were once closer to perfection than they are now. Tolkien's work has this element, certainly, but he's not the only one. It no doubt comes from Christianity, but its not an uncommon feature of many religious, mythological, and occult systems.

So in other words, in many fantasy worlds elves were, at one time, even better--because the gods or whoever made them that way.

Science fiction--from the Golden Age through modern trans- and post-humanist works--has presented another, competing idea. Progress. Maybe beings are evolving to a higher state. As the trope goes, future man is better than modern man in a lot of ways. Often, in a lot of the same ways that elves are better than man.

Jürgen Hubert explored this idea in his Pyramid Magazine article "Elves: A Case Study of Transhumanism in Fantasy Worlds." Hubert provides a lot of interesting ideas for a gamemaster wanting to explore this angle.

In the thinking about rethinking the elves for my current campaign, I revisited Hubert's article. I also found inspiration in the human variants in John C. Wright's The Golden Age trilogy, which is far future science fiction, and doesn't have any elves, but it feels like fantasy in places (in a Vancian sort of way). Greg Egan is probably in there somewhere, too.

"They seem a bit above my likes and dislikes, so to speak," answered Sam slowly. "It don't seem to matter what I think about them. They are quite different from what I expected — so old and young, and so gay and sad, as it were."

- J.R.R. Tolkien, Fellowship of the Ring

On the earth that contains the ruin-haunted continent of Arn, the beings known as elves call themselves aethyr in their own language. Visually, they may be differentiated from humans by their slim builds, pointed ears, and large, slanted eyes with ovoid pupils. Their eyes give an almost feline impression. They tend to have less sexual dimorphism than humans.

The aethyr keep to themselves, living in enclaves distant from human settlements. Little is known about them really, though it would be hard to call such gregarious and social beings as the elves most commonly encountered, secretive. Somehow, they manage to talk a lot while saying very little about themselves. This is even more remarkable, given the centuries that measure their lives.

These elves, the ones most commonly interacted with by humans, are known as the "bright" or "high" aethyr. They pursue pleasure, in whatever idiosyncratic form that might take. Some are artists or aesthetes, some are scholars, some warriors, some mages. They tend to live in small, fluid communities where they may indulge these interests with a minimum of interference. Their advanced magical arts make these lifestyles possible without the toil that is the lot of most intelligent species. They live better than wealthy humans in habitations that may easily be hidden in the wilderness.

As highly individualistic beings, allied to extraplanar chaos, the aethyr shun government and law. Authority may come to rest in certain personages, but only as far as their charisma and persuasive powers take them. Conclaves are called at appointed times which seem random to other species, where any elf can be heard. All decisions made at a conclave are voluntary. Elves who violate their community's sense of propriety are ostracized, nothing more, though vengeance may be taken by individual parties.

There are other elves. We might think of these as tribes, or clades, or even political parties. In a sense, they are all three. There are the wild elves, who seek unity with nature and spend much of their time in animalistic mental states which they know as the red dream. There are the aquatic elves, who breath in water as well as air, and live nomadic lives in the seas. There are the gray, the most aloof of elven races, who live in hidden mountain enclaves. And then, there are the dark ones--ancient enemies of the others--who dedicated their long existences to the ideal of transgression.

Its the gray aethyr, though, that hold the most secrets of the elven past. This group is the least human looking of all the elves. They are tall and thin--almost like beings adapted to lower gravity. They have pale skins and even larger eyes than their brethren.

To humans, the gray seem formal, distracted and melancholy. To bright elves, they're slightly embarrassing relatives. The gray would say they're in mourning, if they ever deigned to explain themselves.

What the gray are mourning remains the secret. They alone remember what the other elves have purposefully forgotten. This was their task, though none of the others can even recall it being given to them. When elves awoke from reverie which had kept them safe and sane through their journey, and emerged from the giant, bronze, rune-inscribed ova that had borne them, they forced themselves to forget what had come before. All but the gray. And so they alone mourn.

Where did the elves come from? The future, perhaps? Maybe they're man's descendants from a distant age? Or maybe they're the creation of an ancient Immortal? Another relic from the age of the God Makers?

No one knows. Maybe not even the elves themselves.

Post-Game Report: What Lurks Below

Last Sunday, we continued our Warriors & Warlock campaign, using a somewhat re-imagined version of Paizo's Shadow in the Sky in the Second Darkness adventure path.  The characters were, as before: Zarac the fighter, Renin the psionicist, and Gannon, the thief-monk.

When last we left our intrepid heroes, they had just finished a pitch battle with a group of thieves and thugs hired to ambush them, by their (previously) trusted employer, Saltus, at the Grinning Goblin Gambling House. When their employer slipped into some secret tunnels, the players encountered their first dilemma of the evening--whether to loot the gambling house or give chase.

They did a little of both, allowing Saltus to make good his escape into a cave system ("smuggler's tunnels") beneath the gambling house. After delivering the coup de grace to a psionically stunned boar (the pet of Saltus' right-hand lackey), they quickly determined that none of them were particularly skilled at lock-picking, and so it fell to the psionicist to crush the locked trapdoor with his mental powers.

By then, their desire to get revenge on Saltus was beginning to pick up. It allowed them to avoid arousing Zarac's usually ever-present avarice, which would no doubt have led them to a submerged pirate treasure--but all a vengeful wight. Instead, they chose a different branch and wound up activating magical stalactites which served as a sort of cave security system for a den of troglodytes. These guys had their gambling interrupted:

So throwing down their "simple but inane" (according to the module) game, they came running for the party. The dice were fickle for the trogs. They kept getting natural "twenties" and equally natural "ones"--making them alternate between shrugging off the PCs best blows, and crumpling like paper. One troglodyte went down before they're even in melee range, felled by Renin's mind-bullets.

The other three didn't fall so easy. Zarac (already injured from the battle above ground) and Renin took wounds before they dispatched their foes. Each of the player's put down one trog, and Zarac delivered a killing stroke to the one previously blasted into unconsciousness by Renin.

So far so good--except the sounds of battle had alerted the other trogs, and the remaining adult males of the den came running. The PCs quickly assessed the odds, and made a strategic retreat. They climbed back up to the basement of the gambling hall, then removed the ladders, so the troglodytes couldn't follow.  They had by then recognized the odd smell they had noted in the basement earlier as a lingering sign of troglodyte presence, and weren't eager to have such visitations repeated.

They assumed that Saltus must have escaped. Again they returned to searching the various rooms of gambling house for valuables, or something that might explain his betrayal.

They'd forgotten something.

They forgot the elven ranger that lent them a hand last adventure, and the warning he gave of a renegade elf, apparently working with Saltus, at some unknown purpose. They forgot, and gave their hidden adversary, warned by her troglodyte minions, time to escape.

While they broke into the gambling hall's strangely sparsely funded vault, the weird shadow in the sky that had previously been of much interest, disappeared. While they sat at a bar, trying to figure out how to sell the business they now found themselves in possession of--and who to sell it to--a falling star streaked across the night sky. It slammed into a small island just beyond the harbor, leading to a earthquake and a tsunami.

These natural disasters had been foreshadowed by the dream that had brought Renin to Raedelsport. A dream the PCs had spent parts of several sessions trying to find someone to interpret. The looks on the players' faces when realization dawned was priceless.

The session ended with the characters looking out over the chaos in the city from the second floor of the Grinning Goblin, wondering just what might happen next.

Something I found interesting about the module was that it had a timeline of events that played out on their on. The players were able to interact with them, but they didn't require the PCs to be railroaded into doing so--were free to pursue their own agenda, and often did. While definitely a scenario with a plot (at least in the background), rather than a sandbox, I found it to have a lighter touch than other "story-centric" modules I've played in the past.

The conversion to Warriors & Warlocks has taken some extra work. Luckily, a large numbers of D&D monsters have been statted in Mutants & Masterminds terms on The Atomic Think Tank Message Boards. The three week breaks between sessions should have helped--and I suppose they did, in terms of providing more time to procrastinate.

The long between game intervals probably also led to player's forgetting some important details. From my perspective, this didn't impair the adventure in anyway, though the players felt the lack at times. Since they were relying on notes anyway, that just means they need to take better ones.

Overall, I think a good time was had by all.

In about a month, we undertake Chapter 2: Children of the Void.

The Rock Cried Out: Dwarvish Origins

I'm probably not the first to notice that Todd Lockwood's rendering of the dwarf in the 3e Player's Handbook illustration of the PC races looks rather anthropoid.  It's proportions seem realistic--like the dwarf is a non-sapiens homonid rather than some fantasy creation, or just a stumpy human.

That got me to thinking about how to add a twist to dwarves in my campaign world. 

I thought about Arthur Machen's idea of an aboriginal race getting pushed out by later cultures, and becoming the source of legends of elves and faerie folk, as put forth in The Novel of the Black Seal, and borrowed by Robert E. Howard in several yarns.  That brought to mind a real relative of humanity maybe driven to extinction by our ancestors.  A group of short, stocky folk, dwelling in caves (in the popular imagination), and from northern climes--Neanderthals...

"Living in caves from the start, these aborigines had retreated farther and farther into the caverns of the hills..."

- Robert E. Howard, "People of the Dark" (1932)

This is a tale told by the dzarduk, the dwarves of Arn, in their great and hidden halls beneath the fells:

This is our oldest tale. A tale from before we counted time. This is the tale of how we became Dzarduk...

It was an Age of Winter and the People (who were not yet the Dzarduk) still lived above the ground. They worked only flint, and did not know the secrets of metal. They hunted great beasts of the forest and the tundra for their meat and for their skins.

It was a hard life, but the People were hard as well. They survived.

That was until the Tall Folk came.  They were not as strong, nor as hardy as the People, but they were more cunning in the use of tools, and they bred in greater numbers. The Tall Folk gradually forced the People from their ancestral hunting grounds. They drove them into the highlands and to the edge of the great ice.

It is likely that there the People would have died, but for the dreaming.

A young shaman had a dream of a star fallen from the heavens into the deep mountains long ago. From within the star, a voice beckoned. It promised safety to the People if they could find its resting place.

Older shamans felt the power of the dreaming, but disagreed on its interpretation. They called on the spirits for guidance, but got no answer. All the People met in council. Many thought it foolish to go further into the mountains, into the realm of ice. Others felt it offered their only chance of survival.

Debate went on far into the night, and when it was over, the People were sundered, each band going where it would. Those that chose not to follow the young shaman's dream were lost, and are no more.

The rest travelled many months in the mountains, through ice and snow. They fought great beasts, and remnants of elder races. Many of the People died.

When they finally came upon the valley where the star had fell, they knew it to be a place of great magic. The star, though broken and half buried, was a wonder--it was made of metal, though the People had no word for that substance yet. When they came close, all could here the voice inside, beckoning.

Many became afraid, and would not approach. The young shaman and a few brave hunters went inside the star. They beheld strange things that they could scarce describe. There were dead beings like men, some of them made of the shining stone, like the star itself.

As they stood inside the star, the shaman called out to the voice of its spirit: "You called and we have come. We beg shelter."

"Shelter I will give you," the spirit responded, "but not without a price. I have waited long for someone to answer my summons. I journeyed far to come here, so far I have forgotten much.  My people have died. Some on the voyage, some in our final fall. I have been damaged. There is no one to tend me."

"We will be your people," the shaman said. "Our old gods have forsaken us, or past on. We will tend you, and serve."

The shaman was then caught in a piercing light, and the hunters--brave though they were-- became afraid they had angered the spirit of the star, and it would kill them all. Then the spirit said:

"If you are to be my people, you must change. You are not yet suitable to my purposes. If you will serve, I will make you wiser than any other people in artifice and the working of metal. But you must be warriors as well as craftsman. I will make you stronger, and cunning in war.  That is the only way that we will endure."

The shaman didn't understand all the words the spirit spoke, but it knew truly that this was the only way the People would survive. He took the spirit's words back to the People. Many were afraid, but solemnly they accepted the offer.

The spirit revealed to the People the sheltered cave entrance that part of the star hid.  It showed them how they might find food in it's stores.

Around the fires they built that first night, the People told this story. The story of how we became Dzarduk, the people that were forged.

Ascension

“I feel myself becoming a god."

- Titus Flavius Vespasianus ,79 CE

One the fundamental features of D&D is that character’s become tougher and more powerful—often extraordinarily so—as they become more experienced, i.e. “level up” as the kids say. This has never really been addressed “in game-world” that I’m aware of except, in a way, in Mentzer’s so-called BECMI edition of D&D. Here the “endgame” became achieving godhood. I think this is an idea with a lot of potential—and a lot of potential to give “in world” context to other rules elements.  I’ve utilized to that end in the world of Arn. I don’t envision it as something to form the primary focus of the game (it won’t be the endgame of every campaign—or any, necessarily), but more as something to fill out the background. The major inspirations are the BECMI metagame plus some transhuman/posthuman space opera (particularly David Zindell’s A Requiem for Homo Sapiens trilogy with its “vastened” gods). Since first starting to play with this idea, I’ve discovered Erikson’s Malazan series contains the similar idea of heroes “bootstrapping” themselves into deities, so you might want to check them out as well.


The following is from a treatise by Mnaurmon Lloigor, a renowned scholar and historian, late of Thystara:

It is one of the fundamental features of the universe that mortals may by great deeds come to be invested with capabilities and perceptions superhuman, making them as gods. Such beings are known as “ascended.” Theologians argue this point with thaumaturgic and natural philosophers but have yet to articulate a compelling argument that the supernal objects of human worship are in anyway demonstrably different from ascended beings. In fact, some deities have emerged in historic times by this very process—noble Ahzuran, the patron of the Empire, among them!

How mankind acquired the knowledge of ascension is lost to prehistory. We certainly can trace it to the ancient Empire of the Godmakers, for whom ascension apparently formed a central cultural rite. Perhaps the Godmakers stole this knowledge, or were given it under apprenticeship to some nonhuman elder race. Some have suggested that it was the older, true gods, from whom it was stolen. Or perhaps it was they who carelessly bequeathed it to man.

From where ever it came, we know something of what that knowledge wrought. The Godmakers’ civilization soared to heights mankind has never achieved since, and numerous god-like beings—Immortals—arose.  These godlings made war with superhuman armies and reality-searing weapons against the last redoubts of the elder races, and fell abstractions from the noumenal planes, and finally, against each other.

Then they succumbed to strange fall, and their civilization was gone.

The Godmakers left us no written record (beyond perhaps some indecipherable monumental text), but fragments of their knowledge has been delivered to us through the hands of earlier ages, and the sometimes suspect memories of long-lived, extraplanar entities. Secrets were preserved in hidden places, in some cases by oral tradition, in others by arcane means.

And then there are the subterranean labyrinths constructed, or invoked, apparently to be the crucible of apotheosis—and persisting to tempt the brave or foolish to this day. The purpose of these structures, however, was not immediately recognizable. Other sources were less cryptic and less dangerous.

It was the young conqueror Azuranthus, known to us now as Ahzuran, who became the first man in millennia to claim these secrets from an ancient order of mystics, and ascend, becoming both emperor and patron deity. The knowledge of ascension became part of the teaching of the imperial cult, spread to all parts of the empire.

God-Emperor Ahzuran eventually chose to move beyond this plane. With strife between old faiths and new, political tensions in far-flung provinces, and the machinations of the nascent ascended which had followed in Ahzuran’s wake, the empire could not hold without its patron.

In the period of turmoil that followed, the class of professional adventurers emerged. Foremost, they were interested in finding wealth amid the ancient ruins, or even just looting the treasure troves of  Ahzuran's empire. Over time, however, skillful (and lucky) adventurers began to discover that the dungeons provided a path to ascension. This knowledge became widespread as the empire's successor states began to coalesce.

To this day, adventurers continue pursue the legacy of the Godmakers and of Ahzuran. They dream of temporal power and riches, but also of the chance of godhood. Perhaps some even think on Ahzuran’s last, cryptic pronouncements, wherein he hinted of levels of attainment beyond the ranks of the ascended, and suggested there was even greater power to be won in realms beyond human perception, for those audacious enough to seize it.

Dungeon Calling

As promised last post, here's pretty much the entirety of "pitch" I gave my players to give them a feel for the game I wanted to run. It seems to have worked well for those with a strong past history of D&D.  For the others, maybe not as much.  This was written before the GURPS incarnation of the game, sometime in early 2008, but most of the terminology has changed only slightly between conception and the current Warriors & Warlocks campaign.

The clever China Mieville quote at the beginning nails the adventurer even better than the one I offered up last time: "Anything for gold and experience..."

“…Apparently, there’s a few serious adventurers in town right now, claiming to have just liberated some major trow haul from the ruins in Tashek Rek Hai. Might be up for a little paid work.”

Derkhan looked up. Her face creased in distaste. She shrugged unhappily.

“I know they’re some of the hardest people in Bas-Lag,” she said slowly. It took some moments for her to turn her mind to the issue. “I don’t trust them though. Thrill-seekers. They court danger. And they’re quite unscrupulous graverobbers for the most part. Anything for gold and experience…”

- China Mieville, Perdido Street Station

All over the world there are found catacombs, tombs, ruined underground cities—dungeons. These dungeons are full of wealth beyond imagining—hoards of gold, silver, and jewels, and magical artifacts of a lost civilization much more advanced than the current one. Obtaining these treasures is seldom easy.  Dungeons are also full of deadly, inhuman creatures in a bewildering array of forms—strangely an even greater variety than in the world above.

Still, there are many brave—or foolish—enough to try.  They are called adventurers, and they are the legends, folk-heroes, or folk anti-heroes of their world. They're the Robin Hoods and Sir Lancelots of their world, but also the Jesse James, Doc Hollidays, and Bonnie and Clydes. They challenge the horrors of the depths, and wrest glory and riches from them.

Boomtowns grow up around the entrances to newly discovered dungeons.  Merchants, harlots, and entertainers seek to supply the needs of adventurers or relieve them of their loot. It is a fluid, chaotic age in many ways; the old stratifications of society are loosening, leading to opportunity and uncertainty.

And there are gains to be made beyond wealth and status. Such was the wisdom of the ancients that they were able to discover a fundamental trait of the universe. The quickest way to ascend to levels beyond the mortal realm, to gain the power of a demigod or even a god, is through the challenge of adventuring.

Quick isn’t easy. Many more adventurers end their careers with their bones moldering in the underdark—the victims of monsters, traps, or fellow treasure-seekers.

Adventurers are philosophical about this. After all, it just leaves more for the survivors.

ENCYCLOPEDIC GLOSSARY

ADVENTURER: An individual who utilizes his skills in magic or force of arms in the pursuit of wealth in various dangerous ways. The term is often used pejoratively by common-folk, but just as often tinged with envy or awe. It is commonly known that adventuring played an important, perhaps central, role in the rites of the GODMAKERS.  This does not endear the activity to religious or temporal authorities, though there is a degree of hypocrisy in their attitudes in that many of society’s leaders are former adventurers themselves, or at least the descendents of such.

ASCENDED, the: IMMORTALS who were once mortals.

ALIGNMENT: The name given to the moral “colors” of the spectrum of magical energies emanating from the Outer Planes of the GREAT WHEEL and infusing the PRIME MATERIAL PLANE. These are envisioned as matrix of the interactions of two axes—Good (eusocial, empathetic) versus Evil (antisocial, egoist), and Law (rules-based, stable) versus Chaos (anarchic, mutable). "Neutral" generally describes a state not strongly attuned to the poles of either axis, but can also refer to energies of balance.

CLERIC: Originally, the name used for a priest of a religious militant order, many of which were established for adventuring in service of their temple. Their ritual investment allows the practice of theurgy, wherein the cleric acts as a conduit for divine energies to cast spells. Over time, the term came to be applied more broadly to any theurgist, including non-militant priests or even laity.

DELVER: An ADVENTURER involved in exploring (i.e. looting) a DUNGEON.

DEMIHUMAN: Subspecies or closely related species to mankind, which are generally amicable and take part in human societies. DWARVES, ELVES, GNOMES and HALFLINGS are the most prominent examples.

DEMON: The colloquial name for the beings of the Abyss, primordial beings aligned to chaos and evil utterly devoted to the ultimate dissolution of matter.

DEVIL: The colloquial name for the hierarchical, egoist beings of the Nine Hells who seek to overthrow the current order of the multiverse. Legend holds that devils were initially soldiers for the gods in their war against the DEMONS and other chaotic forces in early creation before rebelling against their former masters.

DUNGEON: Most common name for the seemingly artificial, subterranean complexes found throughout the world. Most dungeons are ancient (from the time of the EMPIRE OF GODMAKERS, or before), though some date to known historic times. They are frequently inhabited by multiple species of exotic monsters, some found in no other environment. The monsters seem to be imprisoned there, hence the name. Some sages have pointed out the obviously magical nature of these environments, noting that the creatures residing in dungeons often have no visible means of sustenance, ensconced torches often seem to burn perpetually, and traps have been found to “reset” themselves after a space of time. The Godmakers believed the dungeons to be essential challenges for heroes on the path to apotheosis.

DUNGEON MASTERS: The putative beings or culture responsible for the creation of the majority of ancient DUNGEONS. They may or may not have been the same as the GODMAKERS.

DWARF: A DEMIHUMAN species with short stature and stocky builds. Dwarves are adapted to colder, mountainous climes, but often are at least semi-subterranean. As a group, they are known as fierce warriors and great artificers.

DRUID: Adherents to ancient cults in the service of the balance of nature. Druids are able to channel energies in the manner of CLERICS, though they serve an ideal or force rather than an IMMORTAL.

ELF: A DEMIHUMAN species close enough related to mankind to interbreed. Elves are theorized to have been magically uplifted (perhaps by an IMMORTAL patron) from base humanity—they are longer lived, more graceful and beautiful, and adept at arcane arts.

GODMAKERS, EMPIRE OF: An ancient hegemony spanning most of the known world.  The central rite of Godmaker society was the creation of new IMMORTALS by several paths their sages had discovered. Ultimately, the machinations of these Immortals and the erstwhile seekers of immortality caused their culture to collapse and led to large areas being devastated by arcane weapons of mass destruction. Historians argue over whether the DUNGEON MASTERS were of the same cultural lineage as the Godmakers, or preceded them.

GREAT WHEEL: The common model of the structure of the OUTER PLANES. While it in no way accurately represents the reality of these realms, whose actual structure is multidimensional and beyond human understanding, it conveys the metaphysical relationships between them.

HALFLING: Child-sized DEMIHUMANS often living close to human settlements.

HUMANOIDS: Anthropoid sapients mostly inimical to humankind. This includes orcs, goblins and related species.

IMMORTALS: Gods and god-like beings. The ASCENDED are Immortals who were formerly mortal, but acquired god-level power through various means. Some philosophers have hypothesized that all Immortals are ascended, but theologians ridicule this idea. Whatever there origins, all gods derive their magical abilities from one of the OUTER PLANES and must adhere to its ALIGNMENT.

MAGE: A practitioner of the art and science of ARCANE spellcasting, often also referred to as a wizard. Mage’s research and collect formulae for harnessing the raw energy of the multiverse for thaumaturgic purposes. These are formulae are ritually reduced to sigils which the mage imprints upon his consciousness to later released in a casting. Mage’s are barred by the interference of the Immortals from spells of healing or resurrection.

MONK: Generally refers to a member of a monastic religious order, but in the sphere of ADVENTURERS it refers to a member of an esoteric religious or quasi-religious sect which practices unarmed martial arts.

ORC: A humanoid species generally inimical to humans and DEMIHUMANS. Orcs are capable of interbreeding with humans, and half-orcs are often found among the ranks of ADVENTURERS.

OUTER PLANES: The thirteen conceptual realms idealizing the ALIGNMENTs. They are home to OUTSIDERs, which may appear on the PRIME MATERIAL PLANE.

OUTSIDER: Sapients from the planes other than the Prime Material; Ultraterrestrials.

PRIME MATERIAL PLANE: The universe, or set of universes, which are home to humanity. Based on the Great Wheel cosmology, it is literally the center of the multiverse.

PSIONICS: A paranormal power directed by the minds of gifted individuals and creatures. Its metaphysics is poorly understood save that it emanates from the individual, not from extraplanar forces, and that it is undetectable by means used to perceive arcane

So you get the idea.  While not comprehensive, it gives an overview of several of the common D&D touchstones, reinterpreted through the conceits of the setting.  It obviously something of a rationalized setting, in that many things are "explained" or given a sort of scientiftic veneer, as opposed to one which portrays the fantastic in an irrational or inherently irreducible manner.  This won't be the everyone's taste, and it's not to my tastes in every campaign, but it's what I wanted to do here. 

Another question it might raise is from what "stance" is it written?  Is it a document as might be read "in world" or a scholarly text looking at it from on outside perspective?  On that issue, I've never completely made up my mind.  I suspect that this is mainly "player"--as opposed to "character"--knowledge.  I think educated characters would be aware of most of the information presented above, but probably wouldn't understand it or conceptualize it the same way.

And looking back on it now, I think my conception of the setting, and where I want to go with it continues to change--in no small part due to it moving from an off-hand idea of mine to something others are interacting with and putting through its paces in play.

Stay tuned.

Post-Game Report: A Weird Shadow Over Raedelsport

Last night we met for the fourth session of our D&D inspired Warriors & Warlocks game.  Despite, the desire to get "back to the dungeon" so to speak, these first few sessions have been mostly city adventures.  I've found the conversion suggestions from Greywulf very helpful in porting things over from 3e to the M&M system, as I've been using as the backbone of the campaign Paizo's Pathfinder: Second Darkness adventure path.   Despite some wariness about "adventure paths" in general (dating back to Dragonlance), there were some of elements of that storyline that I found really interesting and worth using in a modified way in my own campaign world. 

This setting is the latest iteration of the world I've used for most of my fantasy gaming since late middle school.  Currently, it centers around an Australia-sized island continent called Arn.  Arn is now the frontier for the nations of the large, Eurasian-like landmass to its east, but in previous ages it was center of various now-fallen civilizations--including the enigmatic "Dungeon Builders" who left Arn riddled with their labyrinthine, subterranean ruins, so attractive to adventurers.  Arn is the site of several city-states founded by the Old Thystaran Empire, amongst hostile, barbarian tribes, and nonhuman enclaves.  The greatest of these is Terminus, named so because it was founded on the site of the farthest boundary marker of Thystarus at a landing on the River Fflish. 

But Terminus isn't where the player's currently find themselves.  Instead, they're on Arn's northwest coast, in the narrow streets of the mist-choked, pirate haven of Raedelsport.  As supplied by The Second Darkness, the city is currently beset by strange happenings related to an omnious, inky-black cloud which hangs, unmoving, overhead.  After various interactions with the criminal underworld of Raedelsport, its finally time to move beyond the city and find out the secret of the eldritch cloud.

So that's the set-up.  Here's the cast of player characters:

• Zarac: A veteran sellsword from the eastern Arn, troubled by an acquisitve nature and a current surfeit of funds after the untimely death of his last employer.
• Gannon: A monk and thief from an abbey in the Eiglophian Mountains (yes, a lot of pulp fiction name borrowings here) to the north.  He's a servant of a obscure minor goddess, Mother Scythe, the Lady of Reaping, whose exoteric teachings focus on self-reliance and stoicism, but whose inner mysteries promote fleecing the less wary.  He's been sent on a mission for his goddess.
• Renin: A wanderer from distant Staark (think Prussia under the Teutonic Knights, mixed with a pinch of ancient Sparta, and a smidge of various millenialist heretical sects in the Middle Ages), with rare powers of the mind (psionics, to use the D&D-ism), drawn to Raedelsport by mysterious dreams.  

Like all good characters, they get me thinking about hooks in their backstories.  For instance, I hadn't really given much thought to the inclusion of psionics until Eric proposed his character.  Now I'm thinking about where the other psionicists might be hiding, and that leads me to think about Beneath the Planet of the Apes...But I digress.

Play of first module has seen the basic outline and set peices remain largely intact (in a Yojimbo to Fist Full of Dollars sort of way), with changes to NPC presentation and motivation, and some player driven digressions along the way.  I hear some later chapters get more railroady, so I'm fully prepared to jettison some of them entirely in favor of crafting our own version of the overarching "plot."

Anyway, so far, so good.