Return to Castle Frobozz, Part II

The second part of the story actually misses an interlude (unfortunately lost to time), wherein the first band (including Pavel and Winfred) find a dastardly machine room, battle some hooting blue-painted cavemen (one of whom is beguiled by a charming spell), lose a hireling and promptly disappear down a chute. These two continue to have adventures in the Netherdeep, meeting a disgustingly hirsute Ogre bandit-sultan who makes his living by raiding the caravans that ply the underground highways, learning more about Princess Velouria's descent into the deeps, and delving deeper into the earth to discover a mining outpost run by the Evil Men of Kau'kawthar (along with their demon-worshipping, werespider Drow allies). Meanwhile, the remaining party (and the hirelings of the aforementioned duo) are left in the dungeon proper, where they murder another player character (after a week of his inactivity) and discover the entrance to a muck-filled Troglodyte burrow...

See also Part I.

RETURN TO CASTLE FROBOZZ, CHAPTER II
INTO THE DEPTHS
After bravely tiptoeing past a sleeping dragon and losing track of original party leaders, the troupe of dungeon delvers blunders forth into further and greater peril veiled within the Glittering Cavern...

EASTERN GLITTERING CAVERN
Your eyes adjust to the grandeur of this cavern, set with a canopy of shadowy stalactites, glittering minerals and faintly luminescent lichens and moss. This gallery extends far to the west, and features several distinct zones. To the Southwest, natural stairs climb up the cave wall to a cliff overlooking the chamber. To the West, the terrain descends into a dell of bulbous, mammoth mushrooms. To the Northwest stands a plateau of splendent, shimmering pools amidst a thick forest of stalagmites.

The exits are SOUTHWEST, WEST, NORTHWEST

There is a BARREL here.

TOECUTTER immediately trots over and inspects the barrel, oblivious to the natural wonders around him.

Prying open the lid reveals around 20 gallons of dried apples, halved.

SCUNTHORPE reaches in the barrel and grabs a couple halves of apple. After tossing one to ZUGG, he bites into his half. "Those mushrooms don't look very inviting, but if we have any chance of meeting up with the others, we must venture down. But a view of what's to come would be helpfull" At that, SCUNTHORPE begins towards the stairs SW, tossing the half eaten apple aside.

TOECUTTER looks mildly dissapointed for a second; he then fills a small sack full of dried apples and begins to follow SCUNTHORPE down the stairs.

Buried halfway down the barrel of apples is a gnarly twig, singed at one point with a leather wrapped handle on the other.

TOECUTTER pockets the backscratcher before leaving.

• TOECUTTER gains 100 xp! [Haha, this amuses me]

NARROW PRECIPICE
From this vantage point, much of the southern Glittering Cavern opens up before you to the shadowy illumination of your torch. Below you, a veritable forest of towering mushrooms wobble intermittently to the north. To the west of this vale, a shimmering, cerulean light can be seen. To the northeast, stairs descend down into the Eastern Glittering Cavern. The narrow ledge where you stand is slick from the condensation of this damp chamber, making footing treacherous. The wall is marked with deep gouges and cuts. At the very end of the tapering ridge lies a small opening in the cave wall.

The exits are IN or NORTHEAST.

There is a SHANE here.

Jealously eyeing the stick TOECUTTER just picked up, SCUNTHORPE comments "Good find, me thinks that's a wand." And at studying the wall says "These gouges speak of grand fight that took place here. I would guess horrible creatures from below were literally clawing their way through this passage. If true, there's likely something of value through there, and something nasty waiting below. But I still feel the best way to find the others is to continue down. What say you, party?"

Snapping out of his hypnotic stupor, SWALKHI replies, "I says I don't like the notion of mucking about under a mushroom forest -- I say we follow that shimmer to the west."

Before moving on from the Narrow Precipice, SCUNTHORPE pauses for a moment to study the other members of his party. "DONIVAN. SHANE. What say YOU? You have been following blindly and dumbly since you joined this quest." At that, with a quickness no one would have expected from the spell-caster, he spins around to the back of SHANE and draws his dagger to the mercenary's throat. "I suspect you to be a construct of evil. Give me any indication that I am wrong and you will have my apologies, otherwise you will have the taste of my blade in the back of your throat."

[What follows next is a pause both awkward and long (a full week out of game).]

"Just as I thought, I release your cursed spirit." The words were still rolling off SCUNTHORPE's tongue as his dagger slid through SHANE's throat. As the body falls limp to the ground, SCUNTHORPE shouts "DONIVAN!" as he turns and forces his body against the cave wall. SCUNTHORPE holds the point of his blade firm against his chest. "Will anyone speak up and prevent me from releasing this one as well?"

TOECUTTER enthusiastically munches on a couple of apple halves as this all goes on. "Not to interrupt a good murder spree or anyfing, guv," he says mid bite, "but is 'at really nessesary?"

SCUNTHORPE pulls back from DONIVAN at TOECUTTER's words, and sheaths his dagger. "Oh my, I believe these caverns are starting to play with my head." He looks down at SHANE, "Don't think he'll be forgiving me, but perhaps we should leave this incident behind us. ZOTT, AUGUST, EVANDER, you're not too outraged by my actions to continue on this quest, are you?"

"Oi boss," says ZOTT, "AUGUST is dead, right?" EVANDER and ZOTT eye SCUNTHORPE nervously...

Looking rather embarrassed, SCUNTHORPE allows "Of course. These caverns are most certainly affecting me detrimentally."

"Right... s'pose SHANE won't miss this now..." TOECUTTER removes SHANE's Plate Armor and dons it, careful to wipe up the blood. He also takes SHANE's rations and coins. He drops his own Leather.

SCUNTHORPE peers into the opening in the wall. "For my own sanity, it is time I moved on." At that, he goes IN.

TOECUTTER follows SCUNTHORPE (for lack of anything better to do. Also, I think SCUNTHORPE has the light).

IDOL OF YOB
Spears hoisting thick proto-human skulls stake the entrance to this natural cavern. Deep scratches in the wall trickle with water from above, gleaming in the torchlight. Against the western wall looms a large, hideous idol: a squat, toad-like creature with its left eye shut and a gaping grin lined with serrated teeth. The open right eye is a gaping socket, damaged and cut around the lid. The false god holds out its left hand, upon which someone has placed a golden rock. The cave continues deeper to the SOUTHWEST.

The exits are OUT or SOUTHWEST.

There is a SCUNTHORPE, a DONIVAN, a SWALKHI and a TOECUTTER here. There is an IDOL here.

SCUNTHORPE cautiously approaches the idol for a better look, making sure to watch his step. He tries to look into the statue's mouth, and also at the golden rock.

There is a shallow space within the toothy maw, perhaps large enough to fit a single hand... The hole apparently continues deeper, down the IDOL's throat. The golden rock has apparently been placed here recently, judging by the lack of slime and cave lichen on the stone. It looks to be the texture and shape of a piece of shale, perhaps a pound in weight, only it has been somehow transfigured into gold.

SCUNTHORPE steps to the side of the statue, well out of way of it's mouth. He pulls a gold coin of his own out, and quickly as possible attempts to snatch the rock away, replacing it with the coin.

SCUNTHORPE gains GOLDEN ROCK. Somewhere in the distance, a giant boulder is released and nearly crushes a man in a hat.

SCUNTHORPE, after seeing nothing happened, pockets the GOLDEN ROCK along with his gold coin. He searches the ground for rock, and once found places it in the idol's hand.

The IDOL continues to give its listless, meaningless stare at the interlopers. The rock remains... rocky.

SCUNTHORPE picks up the rock, and places it into the idol's mouth. He also tried to place the Golden Rock in the empty eye socket.

Other than the continued humiliation of this blasphemous icon, nothing outré appears to happen.

Mildly disturbed by the looming shadows and statue of what might be an eldritch god from beyond space and time, TOECUTTER lights up his own torch. He then investigates the scratches in the walls, trying to determine if they are natural or... something else.

From his years in the Greyhawk sewers, TOECUTTER instantly recognizes these to be claw marks. Maybe a territorial sign, or a count of some gruesome deed?

SCUNTHORPE shrugs his shoulders, giving up on the frustrating IDOL. He continues on down the cave to the SOUTHWEST.

TOECUTTER readies his club for a fight; he then follows the (probably mad) mage into the darkness.

EGG ROOM
A stinking green haze curls about the floor of this room, barely concealing the muck-filled depressions and clusters of variously shaped and sized eggs. Every surface of this choking cavern is covered in an acidic filmy substance which burns the skin but doesn't seem to impede the vibrantly coloured colonies of algea that cling tenaciously to every crevice. Tip-toeing around the narrow spans between craters leads to the centerpiece of the room, a single massive egg that bobs lazily in a hole filled with slimy water. To the East, a low opening leads into darkness. To the South is a winding tunnel. The passage to the Northeast leads back to the Idol.

The exits are NORTHEAST, EAST and SOUTH.

There is a SCUNTHORPE, a DONIVAN, a SWALKHI and a TOECUTTER here. There is a GIANT EGG here.

Suddenly, two shapes on the ceiling start to form. Dropping down before you reveals two gruesome Troglodytes! The foul creatures charge at you, surprising you with their assault!

Surprise is 1d6: 1, Initiative is 1d6: 1

Round 1!
The party is surprised, and will go last (for the rest of the battle)!
• An odious Troglodyte slashes at SWALKHI (2d6-2: 4) with its claws, slashing him for (1d6-1: 0) damage! [No damage, but the scrape may become infected if a barber-surgeon doesn't tend to it soon.]
• A toothy Troglodyte snaps at DONIVAN (2d6-2: 8) with its maw, but gnaws futily at his leather jerkin!

The PC's may now act...

SCUNTHORPE lets out an audible shriek at the appearance, and appears stunned for a moment. Fortunately for him, his retainers are quick to act.
ZUGG throws a dart at the odious Troglodyte (2d6-1: 9), which slides off the creature's slimy scales!
ZOTT slashes at the toothy Troglodyte (2d6-1: 7), but is repelled by the creatures foul stench!
EVANDER backs up his friend and attacks the toothy one (2d6-1: 7), but jabs ineffectively at the creature's spongy carapace!
---i don't know what weapons they carry, could you please put in the rolls for me? [They are spearmen, if I recall.]

TOECUTTER shoves past the mage and bashes the odious Trog [2d6: 8], but the attack bounces of the creatures lumpy hide!

Round 2!
• An odious Troglodyte turns on ZOTT, slashing at him (2d6-2: 8) with its claws, but is parried by the able spearmen.
• A toothy Troglodyte charges at ZUGG, snapping at him (2d6-2: 3) and sinking its fangs into the Neanderthal for (1d6-1: 5) damage! ZUGG goes down!

The PC's may now act...

Annoyed, TOECUTTER strikes the odious trog again [2d6: 9], grazing the Troglodytes bulbous shoulder ineffectually.

SCUNTHORPE tells his men to "Hold Fast!" ZOTT obeys and strikes at the toothy Troglodyte (2d6-1: 9), as does EVANDER (2d6-1: 9), but are repulsed by the monster's stench!

Round 3!
• An odious Troglodyte claws at ZOTT (2d6-2: 5), connecting with his neck for (1d6-1: 1) damage! Blood sprays out of the poor hireling's neck as he hits the ground unconscious!
• A toothy Troglodyte advances on EVANDER, flailing with its razor sharp talons (2d6-2: 2) and howling madly. The young spearmen is caught across the chest for (1d6-1: 4) damage, and falls to the ground unconscious!

The PC's may now act...

SCUNTHORPE firmly grips his staff with both hands, and swings it at the toothy Troglodyte (2d6: 10), who easily avoids it. He calls out to TOECUTTER, "The wand! Use the wand!"

"The wot?" (Yep, the mage is bonkers!) TOECUTTER swings yet again at the odious trog [2d6: 7], but is driven back by the creature's fetor! [Time for a plan B, I think!]

Round 4!
• An odious Troglodyte turns on DONIVAN (2d6-2: 0), sinking his fangs into the little halfling's backpack for (1d6-1: 0) damage! [The Troglodyte looks surprised to not have delicious halfling flesh in his gullet, as the contents of DONIVAN's pack start to spill out over the floor.]
• A toothy Troglodyte claws at SWALKHI (2d6-2: 8), but is parried by the able dwarf!
• An iron spike falls out of DONIVAN's backpack onto the floor!

The PC's may now act...

"The gnarled stick you found in the barrel of apples. Me thinks it's a magic item," SCUNTHORPE replies as he swings wildly with his staff (2d6: 10), easily missing the toothy Troglodyte.

"Yer daft - 'at's a backscratcher if I ever saw one!" TOECUTTER clubs the odious trog [2d6: 4] for [1d6: 3] damage, and maneuvers to fall back next round! The creature is momentarily dazed by the blow, but comes to and continues its attack.

Round 5!
• An odious Troglodyte turns instead against TOECUTTER (2d6-2: 6), raking its claws across his armour.
• A toothy Troglodyte continues his assault on SWALKHI (2d6-2: 4), grabbing his shoulders and chomping into his head for (1d6-1: 1) damage!

The PC's may now act...

"Ugh. Dwarves!" SCUNTHORPE explains in exasperation as he looks over his fallen retinue and strikes out at the toothy Troglodye with his staff (2d6: 7), but swings wide!

"RIGHT! Get off tha li'l one, ya git!" TOECUTTER tries to distract toothy troglodyte with a blow to the melon [2d6: 3] for [1d6: 5] damage, buying time for SWALKHI to get out of the way! TOECUTTER's cudgel bashes the slimy lizard's noggin in, causing its rubbery hide to collapse to the cave floor with a wobble! (BAM!!! -J) [Bam indeed!]

Round 5!
An odious Troglodyte looks in shock at its fallen submissive (2d6: 5) and howls in primal rage at TOECUTTER!

• An odious Troglodyte claws at TOECUTTER (2d6-2: 3), but is desperately held at bay by TOECUTTER's shield!

The PC's may now act...

TOECUTTER grins ferally and counterattacks [2d6: 7], but his swing is batted aside by the furious Trog. [Should I wait a little more for Scunthorpe?]

SCUNTHORPE jabs at the remaining Troglodyte ineffectively with his staff (2d6: 9).

Round 6!
• An odious Troglodyte continues to claw futily at TOECUTTER (2d6-2: 5) from behind his shield.

The PC's may now act...

"Offa my kit!!!" TOECUTTER bashes the trog with his shield edge [2d6: 5] for [1d6: 4] damage! The odious Troglodyte takes the shield-bash in its maw, stumbling back with fewer teeth before collapsing to the ground unconscious.

SCUNTHORPE flails at the Troglodyte with his staff (2d6: 11), but swings wide as the creature staggers back and falls.

The enemy has been defeated! The PC's may now bind other characters' wounds (restoring d6-1 hits, once per injured person), explore the room further or otherwise act.
• TOECUTTER gains 400 xp!

SCUNTHORPE , although unharmed from the battle, looks quite dejected at the cost of it. He kneels by each of his fallen retinue one by one, to bind their wounds. First ZUGG for 1d6: 4, then ZOTT for 1d6: 3, and finally EVANDER, healing him for 1d6: 2. (oops, forgot about the -1. it is corrected on their character sheets)

SCUNTHORPE then turns his attention to the fallen foes, searching them over thoroughly.

The Troglodytes have nothing but slime and offal on them. The brained Troglodyte is quite dead, but the odious Troglodyte is still breathing.

TOECUTTER pokes his head (and torch) into the opening to the east, hoping for a better view.

The light from the torch reflects off a thick fog in the eastern chamber. The party will have to effect ingress to establish a more accurate survey.

"Hey, fellow," SCUNTHORPE says to TOECUTTER, "if your aim is not to use that back-scratcher, as you call it, perhaps you would care to sell it. Name your price."

Return to Castle Frobozz, Part I

Perusing the archives of Erelhei Cinlu today, I have discovered that the reports on the death of one of my online campaigns have been greatly exaggerated! So as to share these broken fragments with the wider readership, I have elected to publish them here. They will not always make perfect sense, mind you—there are certainly pieces missing from the puzzle. But with a bit of imagination, one should be able to trace the tale of these doomed underground intruders. So begins...

RETURN TO CASTLE FROBOZZ, CHAPTER I
PROLOGUE
And so our story begins with the two dusty pilgrims, Pavel and Winfred, huddled in the dark corner of the Outs Inn of Greyhawk, early one autumn morning. Faces beset with dark looks, the wayfarers glower down into their cold, greasy gruel. They are alone in the tavern this morning - a silent ceasefire exists between them which has even scared off the normally jovial Hrothgar from his perennial post at the bar.

Oh what cruel fate! Only a couple days ago, the travelers were finishing the last leg of what had been a lovely pilgrimage. Certainly the ancient ruins had their distinctive allure, and all had looked forward keenly to seeing the fabled walls of Greyhawk - rumored to be the oldest settlement in the Known World, and once the high seat of the famed Emperor Ygg Son-of-Arne. But it was the company these two grim wanderers now mourned; had it only been two days since seeing that bright gem, Princess Velouria?

Certainly the motley group of pilgrims found it unconventional to be accompanied by such royalty at first, but soon the young and beautiful princess had won each and every traveller's heart with her peerless melodious singing and other winsome affections. By the end of the journey, the troupe had already begun to set upon each other with challenges and dares to prove themselves before her lashful eyes.

But tragedy struck that final night, just shy of the gates of Greyhawk, when a mysterious figure attacked the caravan. Clad all in black, the transgressor knight, who went only by the moniker "The Dark Lord", defeated the tourists one by one, until only he remained standing. Sweeping up the princess from the bed of daffodils she had daintily feinted into, the Dark Lord gave the woe smitten party one more severe reproach before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

Two days later, all that remained of the band now sat mutely in this bar; the hours of quarreling and lamenting long since passed. Of the other companions, some had gone mad with distress and dispersed in random directions, while still others had vowed to rescue the fair maiden and headed up the thick forested mountain towards the mysterious fog-decked Castle Frobozz, which the Dark Lord had indicated was his home. Of this last group, none had returned and, by all legends of the Castle, no return should be expected either.

Perhaps all is lost, and there is nothing left but to return home in shame. Surely, the chance for adventure, reward and glory is behind you now, and even worse - a chance at the fair damsel's hand! But what is this note here, stamped in a strange seal, that flutters lightly on the table? Was that here when you came down this morning? Has it always been here?

THE OUTS INN
Of all the establishments in Greyhawk, the Outs Inn is notable for achieving the most impressive amount of grim and dreck. Normally deserted, this dilapidated watering hole would be considered abandoned if not for the stalwart presence of its owner, Hrothgar the Dwarf. Despite the bleak setting, the curious creature is surprisingly friendly and outgoing, and happily welcomes you to "the finest" (and, indeed, only) "tavern outside the city walls!"

Exits are UP or OUT.

There is a NOTE here, there is a HROTHGAR here.

PAVEL stops a moment from eating his slop. He notices the note. He notices WINFRED noticing the note. He tries to grab it first.

WINFRED groggily rubs his eyes, trying to shake the effects of the previous night's ales. He notices a note on the table and wonders if perhaps it was misplaced and there would be a reward for its delivery. He looks to his coin purse, noting he has only four gold remaining. In the moment of distraction PAVEL grabs the note.

Admiring the strange seal once more, PAVEL notices the stylistic "A", embossed in the shape of a warped star with a flaming pillar in the middle. Breaking open the parchment causes the seal to crumble into several pieces. Within is a short poem followed by a crudely drawn map:

"The fog recedes,
the true treasure of the dungeon,
it is yet to be won,
to it a winding path leads…"

The map roughly shows an ascent up the eastern side of the mountain, upon which sits the gloomy Castle Frobozz from which none return. The path stops halfway up the mountain at a circular symbol.

WINFRED looks up at the sound of the seal on the note being broken. “Friend Pavel,” he begins, craning his neck to get a look at the note, “ the unfortunate events that have transpired on this pilgrimage have clearly worn on us both. Let us start our friendship anew with the search for... whatever it is that note you have here is about. Two honorable men such as ourselves traveling together shall surely overcome challenges that one alone could not.”

PAVEL gazes across the horizon of the letter at his friend. It's a cold stare. He glances down at the letter, "You better take a look at this then," he says tossing the letter across the table. Scowling, he heaves some slop into his mouth and continues with his breakfast.

WINFRED looks the note over. "Strange," he mutters. "Hrothgar, did you by chance see who left this note here?"

Having failed at being inconspicuous, the wrinkly dwarf looks up from his work of wiping down a single swath of the otherwise grimy bar.

"Nae, boppins!" he replies, before hopping down from his stool. You trace the peak of his bent felt cap bobbing behind the bar until the puppet finally appears around the side. He pads up to the table, bells clinking on his soft shoes, draws close and palms the note in his stubby fingers. You can't help but notice that the foul homunculi stinks worse than the docks on Yob's Day, a festival dedicated to the rotten fish-god worshipped by the inbred peasants of this area.

Pulling out a pair of (likely pilfered) spectacles, HROTHGAR pretends to read meaningfully for a moment, before his beady eyes settle on the crudely drawn map and grow wide with fear.

"Well ta first part is a recipe, methinks. Yep, butter'd chicken." it says, licking its slimy lips. "But ta second part, that'd be a map of the Castle Frobz. No'uns ever come back from that fog I tell you! It eats men alive! If only for a chance at the castle gates, the treasures indwelled are said to be beyond imagination!"

The scurrilous tramp goes on to do what dwarves perhaps do best, and tells a mesmerizing tale of spectacular riches and wealth that would make a sultan swoon; seas of golden coin, ruby encrusted pillars, the finest jewelry and ornaments and priceless works of art abound. Half the morning must have passed before you snap out of the charm (coins still dancing in your mind); the drizzly weather outside gives no indication, but you can judge the lapse by your gruel, which has separated into thin tinny water with fatty solids that float near the top. Your stomach grumbles in protest, as the loathsome wretch concludes "But this I've never seen, a passage up the eastern slope? B'ware young boppins, those hills are rumored to be full of nasty warrens."

Recalling your childhood lessons that dwarves indeed live under mounds of dirt, you decide to take such a warning with some thoughtfulness.

With the conclusion of the dwarf's tale WINFRED collects his things. "Perhaps it is time we moved on Pavel," he whispers in a hushed voice, "I doubt this dwarf will be of any help."

WINFRED goes OUT and takes a look around.

PAVEL nods, "I will be needing some supplies I suppose. We may also want to recruit a peasant to carry our goods and absorb any arrows destined for our chests." He gets up from his table, leaving a few coppers on the table and follows WINFRED OUT.

As the PAVEL exits, HROTHGAR pads up to him and stuffs a small, leather bag into his hands. "If ye are thinkin' of going to Frobz, take this, I beg ye! Me mutter told me to use it if I ever came across a deep creature; but dun'nae use it on anything else! Only the deep ones!" Opening the pouch reveals a handful of granola.

PAVEL appreciates the gesture and nods to HROTHGAR on his way out.

Waiting until PAVEL and WINFRED have left, SCUNTHORPE approaches HROTHGAR, and says "A couple more pints for me and my friend," pointing to SWALKHI in the corner. "You've got a fine establishment here."

SWALKHI walks up to HROTHGAR and SCUNTHORPE. "Aye, sir -- good to see a brother dwarf with his own establishment in such a far flung land. Are there more of our folk hereab

MUDDY LANE
The road here is well worked by wagon wheel and foot traffic alike, so that deep ruts have formed in the slop and filled with the morning's rain. This is western road that leads from Greyhawk out to the lands of Westmark. Before you stands the shabby Outs Inn, run down from years of neglect. To your EAST lies the Western Gate of Greyhawk. To the NORTHWEST, the road climbs up into the thick pine forests and disappears around bends in the brambles.

Exits are IN, EAST or NORTHWEST.

There is a SIGN here, there is a GROUP of MERCENARIES here, there is a CONDOTTIERE here.

PAVEL nods to the MERCENARIES, tipping his hat to them as he approaches.

"Allo guv'nah!" the broad mustachioed CONDOTTIERE says, stepping forward and pumping PAVEL's hand mercilessly. "My Landsers are the best in the business! We've just come arrived with the caravans from Westmark. The pikes of the Black Band are the sharpest in the Known World, and for a modest fee they can shore up your battle lines!"

WINFRED reads the sign.

The sign reads: "EAST - CITY of GREYHAWK, NORTHWEST - WESTMARK ROAD and OLD CASTLE TRACK"

WINFRED turns from the sign and approaches the MERCENARIES as well. "So my good man, how much is it to hire one of your pikes?"

"Merely 5 coin a delve or per week, whichever comes first! Payable in full ahead of time to my persons, of course," replies the CONDOTTIERE.

"Are they hardy men for that price?" asks PAVEL. "We're going to the castle Frobozz. We don't want no turn-coats adventuring with us."

"These lads are Westmarks finest!" cries the CONDOTTIERE, "I haven't heard of this Castle Frobozz, but I can attest no member of the Black Band has ever turned heel while their charismatic captain still stands. Treat them well, pay me promptly, and you can be assured of their service."

WINFRED turns to talk to PAVEL out of earshot of the mercenaries. "I am willing to hire one of them, or rather I would be if I weren't so short on gold at the moment," he says looking slightly embarrassed. "I you could lend me a gold coin I will gladly repay it at the first opportunity. If there's even a fraction of the treasure HROTHGAR claims we'll need help to carry it all."

PAVEL waves off WINFRED's concerns. "It is of no consequence, friend. I was planning on hiring two or three. Three would leave me tight to purchase rations for the journey."

"Hire however many you feel would work best, PAVEL. You will be reimbursed for your trouble from the treasure." WINFRED purchases 4 days rations.

PAVEL returns to the CONDOTTIERE and requests the services of three mercenaries, and is granted the service of young AUGUST, ZOTT and EVANDER. PAVEL purchases 10 days worth of dried trail rations for the road. "I believe we have what we need. Unless there is anything else that you require, WINFRED, I suggest we make haste."

WINFRED finishes his purchases. "I'm ready when you are."

PAVEL nods and leaves NORTHWEST with WINFRED.

FOREST ROAD
The thick pine trees converge on the Westmark Road here, veiling the way in an eery silence and gloom. Down the hill to the EAST, the rotting patched roof of the Outs Inn is visible; a thin silvery line of smoke drifting lazily from its badly leaning brick chimney. Beyond that, the grand City of Greyhawk unfolds on the narrow escarpment overlooking the wind licked Great Sea.

To the WEST, the road continues deeper through the forested hills to the sundry counties of Westmark. To the NORTH, the crumbling remnants of a decrepit bridgehead over a small stream mark the beginnings of the Old Castle Track which leads to the haunted Castle Frobozz. A menacing fog looms that way. To the NORTHEAST, a barely noticeable deer path leeds across the stream and around the eastern face of the mountainside.

Exits are NORTH, NORTHEAST, EAST and WEST.

PAVEL remembers the map and points out the deer path. "I believe that is the direction we want to go."

WINFRED also remembers the map. "Yes, I do believe you are correct, PAVEL."

PAVEL heads towards the deer path, leaving NORTHEAST.

WINDSWEPT BLUFF
The forested mountainside tumbles down into a sheer precipice here, dropping hundreds of feet into a distant estuary below. An old deer trail clings tenuously to the fringe of the rocky crag, leading SOUTHWEST down the face of the mountain or ascending WEST directly up the heavily forested slope. From this vantage point, the eastern ends of the Known World open up before you, revealing distant squalls out at sea and the wooded wilderness of the mountainous Eastmark seaboard.

Exits are SOUTHWEST or WEST.

PAVEL goes WEST.

UNKNOWN GROTTO
A small grotto cuts into the mountainside here; a low entrance leading down into the darkness of the earth. Before the portal, a small dragon is curled up on a pile of dirt, leaves and bones. The glint of tarnished golden treasures gleam dimly from the refuse. There is an air of melancholy here. An old deer path leads EAST down the mountainside. To all sides, the menacing fog looms, yet strangely does not reach the trail or cavern opening.

Exits are IN or EAST.

There is a DRAGON here, there is a TREASURE HOARD here, there is a DONIVAN here.

PAVEL halts and raises his fist above his head, signaling everyone to be silent. He waves over WINFRED and points to the DRAGON. Carefully, PAVEL whispers into WINFRED's ear, "Know ye much about dragons, friend? This looks to be the route by which the map wishes us to enter the castle."

WINFRED nods. "Lets try to get by as silently as possible."

Approaching the dragon reveals that the wyrm is apparently midst forty winks, and slumbers peacefully on its precious take. It is a lissome creature, with slender features covered in brilliant emerald scales, perhaps the weight of a horse and some half dozen paces long from nose to tail's tip.

DONIVAN peers out from the underbrush at the two adventurers he has been following since he overheard them talking of treasure while hiring mercenaries near the city gates.

[Assuming Pavel and Winfred continue past the dragon down into the earth, follow below. Otherwise, continue here as normal.]

LOW CAVERN
It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.

There is a PAVEL and a WINFRED here.

PAVEL takes out a torch and his flint and steel from his back-back. He lights the torch, being mindful to keep an eye over his shoulder towards the direction of the dragon.

To Be Continued...

Worldsmiths

I wanted to expand a little on the previous discussion of campaign preparation. I do not believe a referee's preparation should look anything like a published adventure module, which were fixed and scripted scenarios developed specifically for the tournament milieu. These are, of course, fun to read for inspiration or to run the players through a "gauntlet" typical of gaming conventions. However, for home games, these adventures are far too scripted, and go against the basic principle that narration is neither controlled by referee nor by player (as discussed in the previous article).

Yet, it is imperative that the game world seems real and adventureful at every moment and in every scene. Some work must go into world creation, but this fashioning and shaping cannot have a stymying effect. The generative process must be continuous through the process of playing, so that the world comes alive and retains full fluidity. Player decisions, ever capricious, must remain meaningful.

Marshall Miller has given a good example of what this might look like for Dungeon World, a fan variant of Vincent Baker's Apocalypse World. That game already divides the environs of a game world into Fronts, which are living, breathing local situations that the players can get themselves mired in. Not only is a Front (e.g. the Caves of Chaos) a vivid and lush location to explore, but it is also an ambiguous, evil force to oppose the heroes, a ticking time bomb (with signs of the looming disaster), and a creature in and of itself (capable of executing its own moves and maneuvers against the players). A Front is a setting that truly comes to life, like the Mines of Moria, and opposes the heroes by its very nature. It must be carefully explored, discussed and negotiated by both the players and the referee alike, with the primary vehicle for this being dice rolls and decisions.

What Miller has added to this is the notion of the "Adventure Starter." This is another sort of environ in the game world, contained within a quick, flexible toolkit designed to spark the initial interest and action. An entire "Adventure Starter" environ consists in a reminder of the referee's guiding principles (make the world real, make it full of adventure etc), a list of scenic impressions to colour your descriptions and make the world real, some open-ended questions meant to both inspire sub-plots and to hook your players, a list of artifacts and creatures that might be of utility for the referee and finally a list of new moves open to the players while they explore the setting. Importantly, there are no maps, no pre-scripted story and no hard timelines. The referee could glance at the two-page setting and read as much or as little as he likes without missing anything important.

Both Fronts and Adventure Starters are an excellent way for a referee to prepare the environs and locales of the game world. They are inspirational and fluid, and may be used before and during the game to drive interesting scenes. At the same time, preparing this kind of gaming world is not about pre-establishing events, plots or geography. Those are answers, and the answers that the actual playing experience will give you are always better. Rather, the referee should start to think about preparing problems which do not necessarily have an answer… yet. Confronted with a living, dynamic and danger-filled world, the players' actions and words fill the adventure-engine that the referee has prepared, fueling gameplay that players can actually care about and feel.

What is a Setting?

Campaign settings have always held a rather schizophrenic place in this hobby. The first settings, Blackmoor and Greyhawk, were merely the dungeon and the environs around it, extending further only rarely, as the adventurers pursued other plots (and then collapsing back to the central dungeon when new players came in). A great example of this are the adventures of Robliar, Tenser and Erac, who dropped through the chute to China in the ruined pile of Greyhawk Castle, only to adventure back to the other side of the world, drawn like a magnet to the tentpole of the campaign. Other campaign events created new areas, such as the domain of Iuz (a foe who was originally released from the dungeons of Greyhawk), yet these new area always deferred to the original environs (with no sustained campaigning in the new regions).

Yet, when TSR took off, it became profitable to publish fully detailed and designed campaign backdrops. World maps were drawn up for the first time ever, and the local environs around Castle Greyhawk became the "World of Greyhawk" (true, the original Greyhawk was situated on the C&C Society map, but the extent of this map is unknown and apparently not well developed). With published settings, the concept of a campaign backdrop turned from the small, local region to the internation and global scene.

Still, I suspect, most referees ended up designing their own settings for their home campaigns, much like Arneson and Gygax themselves had done. The natural impulse is not to delineate a sweeping world, painting with a broad brush, but rather to go ever smaller, refining the details and going deeper into the very concept of the setting. The former approach is geographic, and creates boundaries that delimit thought even as the "broad approach" is meant to liberate possibilities by making the world seem "big." The latter approach is conceptual, and defines the setting as an idea, not a fixed and stale cartography where the possibility for new events must be fit into a pre-existing framework. They are fundamentally different approaches, one structural and the other theoretical, that produce very different experiences for the referee (and we must remember that the referee is a player too, and that campaign preparation is part of the game).

Interestingly, it was setting stagnation (and setting over-definition), that first drove Arneson to boredom with Braunstein, leading him to create Blackmoor. The Napoleonic scenario had been fully described and defined, and the possibilities exhausted, by a structural approach to the scenario that put characters in relation to each other like chess pieces. Instead of focusing on the politics of the scenario, however, Blackmoor focused on the root inspiration at the core of the setting. As the DCC rulebook says:

"Make your world mysterious by making it small—very small. What lies past the next valley? None can be sure. When a five-mile journey becomes an adventure, you'll have succeeded in bringing life to your world." (Dungeon Crawl Classics Roleplaying Game, page 314)

Here, the sage advice to "think local" should be paired with a conceptual approach to campaign definition. There is world enough in the 50 miles around your central megadungeon: make things happen there! Festivals are thrown, distant merchants arrive, new enemies appear, alliances are struck and broken. The core concept of your campaign inspiration is often difficult to articulate, but one should not flee from this and start detailing regions that no player will likely ever see. Instead, turn back and develop that core concept more and more, mining it for new inspiration, and do not be afraid to let it change as your interests (or real events from the campaign) require. No one truly knows where such a setting will go next, yet it always feels like home.

Dwimmermount

Dwimmermount is a classic dungeon in every sense. The preview for backers of the Kickstarter has a first level that feels both formal and archetypal, yet also lavishly rich in atmosphere. There is a strange mixture of James' staid writing style and the moody ambience that quickly coalesces around the dungeon environs. His writing is effective, and creates a gloomy picture of a ruined hall, with walls and floors now too inert and mute to tell all of their stories.

As James' promises elsewhere, these rather mournful early hallways and chambers will eventually give way to something much stranger. From that discussion, and James' interest in planetary fiction, deeper levels will seemingly take a dip towards period science fiction with Burroughs et al. While it may be judging a book by its cover, from the early drafts I expect the resulting product wil be a well-woven and meticulous classical dungeon, full of ambience and character, with a few twists and turns towards the finale.

In that same discussion, James has expressed interest in using Dungeon Crawl Classics with Dwimmermount. While this is also my current game of choice, the more I read it, the less I am convinced that DCC is well suited by a megadungeon. One of the early design goals was that DCC was not D&D, and would not follow the same path that D&D took. DCC cleaves closer to pulp 1970's science fantasy literature, whereas Dungeons & Dragons became beholden to its wargaming roots. The dungeon is well designed for the later style of play, with gritty room-to-room warfare and strategic exploration and conquest of different zones.

In contrast, Dungeon Crawl Classics seems (perhaps ironically, given its name) better suited for episodic play typical of pulp novellas and the short stories found in the back of cheap science fantasy rags. DCC personas do not fight for every inch of ground with an army of henchmen, but rather they go on flashy capers, discover horrible secrets and fight gross-out final bosses.

This style is well supported by the panopoly of modules Goodman Games has lined up, but I am wondering how it would look for novice judges trying to prepare their own material. The approach I have been taking lately is similar to the method I used in an unpublished homespun roleplaying game a while back. I would build a somewhat self-contained locale (called a "setting") and come up with 2 to 6 major spots in the location (called "scenes"). Scenes were evocative locations where significant story encounters would occur (thus, extraordinary events would never happen in ordinary places, and vice versa). Different settings would be connected in a web geography according to how the narrator expected the plot to unfold (and later, redrawn according to how the plot would actually unfold). Settings themselves would be given brief and colourful descriptions, which would help the narrator improvise.

Thus, the city of Swampgut (setting) could be connected to Cairnlands (setting), which would be connected to Blagga's Hold (a setting, with the descriptors: "crumbling for centuries," "dry mud-walls," "red qwartz canyons," "ant-hole hallways" and "dry creekbed"). Once the characters beat a certain number of the scenes in Cairnlands, they could cross from Swampgut, through Cairnlands and to Blagga's Hold. The latter might have four scenes, including "last standing guard tower" (bird's eye view, crumbling steps, massive bonfire, Blagga's spy-falcons), "Blagga's Harem" (deep in the bowels of the fortress, eunuch guards, debauchery, brazen idol, Blagga's platform, poor acoustics), "black pit" (thousands of feet down, lightless warrens, lurking minotaur, sandy arena) and "master kitchen" (hundred cooks, strange meats, massive hearth, hanging pots and pans, chaos and clamor).

How the players interract with such a setting is freeform, and the judge is encouraged to briefly describe otherwise uninteresting travel. The characters could sneak around the creekbed, find a secret entrance in the wall, and creep through winding warren-like halways until they find a peephole that spies into the harem (ahem, to overhear the infamous Blagga's plans, of course). Once the players goals were sufficiently achieved (or failed), the setting would be expended and the story would advance. For settings that are pure obstacles (like the aformentioned Cairnlands), the narrator may require a certain number of scenes to be beaten to open up further settings.

This is a quick way to sketch out a basic map of the story, but it is still flexible to be modified on the fly. By focusing on dramatic moments and places, such a campaign would feel more pulpy and narrative, which can be scaled back according to the tone the judge would like to set. This approach de-emphasizes mapping, tracking of time and supplies, and the general inertia of traditional exploration. This does not provide an actual plot, however, and I hope to touch on a few tips for adventure design in the near future.

Micro-Megadungeons

Following proper OD&D pacing, a clever referee should be able to engineer a short term campaign that thrusts the characters into the limelight as rising heroes. The grit and horror of low levels is still there, of course, but gone is the drudgery of dozens of sessions stuck at first level or the foregone conclusion of lethal combats with absurdly high mortality rates. To that end, I propose the concept of the "Micro-Megadungeon" to illustrate the breadth of Dungeons & Dragons campaigning to new players (perhaps in the "con game" milieu). With these mini-settings, you can give a demonstration of the range of play styles essential to the D&D experience - from low level survival, to mid-level heroics and into the stuff of legends at high level play. For our purposes, we will focus on a dungeon that catapults the players through three levels, to the fourth (when characters enter the heroic stage).

Central to the idea of the micro-megadungeon is speed. Trust the players to slow the pace down with roleplaying, exploring, decision making and so on, but the environment you build for them has to be trim and fighting fit to curtail extraneous delay. At the same time, for the locale to count as a megadungeon, it has to be in itself completely sufficient for a whole campaign. Striking a balance between these two aspects in each element of the megadungeon is key.

Environs
If the megadungeon is the tent pole around which an entire campaign evolves, the same remains true for the micro-campaign. Thus, while the megadungeon deserves the greatest detail (and its inestimable depth provides limitless adventure), it is not the only celestial body in its cosmos. Rather, the megadungeon anchors many other lesser locales. With a micro-setting, we can limit the environs to the bare minimum, including a Town and three minor adventure locales (one designed for encounters at each level, one through three).

These five destinations should be within short walking distance of each other, to prevent the need to camp outdoors or incur wandering monsters while traveling. If the Town is in the valley, the forlorn monastery (underneath which is the megadungeon) should be just up the hill (with the three adventure spots down the valley, up the valley and on the opposite hill). Wilderness adventures are still possible, but should only occur when the players are specifically seeking them. Furthermore, it may help to confine traveling to within the immediate environs. There may be a bigger world out there, but for the moment the roads are washed out and the characters are forced to stay in this secluded purlieu.

The Town
Like the rest of the backdrop, the Town is minimal in detail. Dramatis personae should include an armourer, an innkeeper, a merchant, a liege lord and a priest, each with their own estate. The first three provide obvious services, while the liege lord can give quests and hire out his garrison (10 coins per spearman, with 5 coins per week upkeep) and the priest can Raise Dead for a number of coins equal to the characters accumulated experience points (a flexible way to scale costs to player progress, but be mindful of the survival rates for low Constitution).

Adventure Locales
Each minor adventure locale should be tailored to a different level, with perhaps two dozen monsters at each site and a quarter their value of experience in coins and treasure. Typical camps might be bandits (600 coins), Gnolls (1200 coins) and Bugbears (1800 coins). Any victory against these enemies will license a similar reduction of monsters and wealth from the megadungeon, to keep adventuring in that locale on track.

The Micro-Megadungeon
The centerpiece of the micro-campaign, the micro-megadungeon is considerably more dense than your regular megadungeon. Ideally, each level should be crammed onto a single page of Michael Shorten's "One Page Dungeon Template," a 30 x 30 square space (with each square equaling 10'). (Unfortunately, "Chgowiz" has decided to pull out of the online community for the time being, so instead I offer up my version of his famous template.) Each level should have monsters of roughly the corresponding level, with enough hit dice of monsters to provide 50% of the experience towards the next level (where 1 hit die is worth 100 experience points). The remaining 50% of experience should come in the form of coins and treasure. Each level should also have 1d3 magic items scattered about. Assuming a party of four characters, our micro-megadungeon might breakdown as follows:

Level	Hit Dice	Treasure	Total EXP*
1	40	4,000 coins	8,000
2	40	4,000 coins	16,000
3	80	8,000 coins	32,000

*After defeating this and all preceding levels.

Thus, the first level of the dungeon will contain between 30 and 40 rooms (this is a good example of density), around 40 inhabitants (1 hit die each) and 4,000 coins in treasure. The second level will contain about 20 inhabitants (2 hit dice each) with a similar amount of treasure, while the third level will have around 27 inhabitants (3 hit dice each) with twice the treasure. A crafty party should be able to defeat one stage each game session and reach fourth level by the end of the third floor of the dungeon. The dungeon can go deeper, branch off in areas, grow and develop, of course (in fact, to count as a megadungeon, it must), but with these tightly designed first few levels, your players should be able to get to mid-range fairly quickly. More than anything, this allows you to showcase two distinct stages of Dungeons & Dragons, as fourth level characters are noticeably more competent than first level ones, displaying to new players the different play styles brought through this growth in character power.