Dwimmermount with Middle Schoolers -- XXVI

With the party split (Vale off masquerading as a dwimmer-goblin and Hurtis in captivity on level two) our latest session focused entirely on the exploits of Y'draneal, Sergei, and Ivor down on level three.

The trio were fairly cozy, sitting in the dark, locked in some kind of old control room waiting for Vale to return, but as time wore on their patience began to wear thinner.
Did they have any food?  Yes, enough for a couple of days in a pinch.
Light? A half-dozen unlit torches.
Water?  Perhaps only half a bottle ... clearly not ample for an extended stay.

Without abandoning his duties as party mapper, elven Y'draneal stepped to the fore to became the leader in Vale's absence.

"Okay.  We're gonna go south.  I'm in the middle because if I get hit, I die."

Hearing a dwimmer-goblin patrol approaching, the explorers darted through the southern door and closed it just in the nick of time to avoid detection.

Before long, however, they ran afoul of a clutch of horrid, eyeless, flat-bodied arachnids, each about the size of a dinner plate.  These creatures, quickly dubbed "ticks", had appallingly thick hide that turned blow after blow.  After resorting to using Sergei's trademark crowbar to pry the nasty things free (just as often leaving a few of their limbs behind), Y'draneal saw that they were outnumbered, unlikely to rout this foe, and so he led the retreat through a nearby hatch.

One tick rode along on Ivor, its finger-like mouth parts scrabbling against his armor in search of a seam, even as Sergei heaved the hatch shut behind them.

A long, odd fight followed in which the adventurers took turns prying the solitary tick off of each other, trying to pin it in place without getting bitten, stabbing at it (an AC 17/2 defeated most of their efforts), and eventually splashing it with acid.


The dreadful parasite continued to twitch even after a blow from Sergei's ax cut it in half, leading to a decision to stash the remains in two separate cabinets chosen from among those shelves and niches lining the walls of the room.  This in turn led to the discovery of a strange, black baton that made the hair on the back of Sergei's hands stand up when he held it.

"Maybe it's magic, or some kind of electrical thing."

Cheered a bit by this discovery, the small group pressed on through another hatch into a chamber festooned with broad, translucent lenses, altar-like consoles adorned with levers and raised studs, and snaking cables of shining, braided orichalcum.

Sergei set aside his usual caution and began to fiddle around with the switches and buttons a bit.  His experimentation was soon rewarded as a low hum filled the room, lights began to flicker on overhead, and a bit of arcane scrawl crept across the curved nephilite lenses.


"I have no idea what I'm doing."

With his keen elven hearing, Y'draneal detected vibrations and humming at a variety of different pitches echoing through the floors, walls and ceiling, not just of this chamber but throughout the surrounding stonework for a considerable distance.  Elsewhere there were distant groans, banging sounds, and the occasional flicker of cold light as if the whole of the dungeon was beginning to stir and wake!

None of the three explorers had so much as a whit of arcane training, and they soon decided that they were into matters well beyond their depth.  They resolved to leave the room without any further tampering until Vale could be brought here to sort things out properly.

Passing through the far hatch they soon came upon a chamber choked with large, silvery-black fungus.  Realizing that more than a half-dozen of the ticks lurked beyond the hatches behind them, cutting off hope of a safe retreat, Y'draneal dared to enter first and promptly dropped in his tracks!

"Is he dead?"

"Am I dead?"

Ivor managed to snare Y'draneal's belt with the hilt of his great sword, and dragged the elf back within reach of the hatch, exposing a grim layer of bones just beneath the carpet of fungus.

Y'draneal still had a pulse (though we learned that elven hearts aren't located in quite the same place as human ones), but remained in his swoon for a time.

Trapped between dangerous fungus ahead and killer ticks behind, despair began to set in as Ivor and Sergei considered how long they might be stuck down here.

"It wouldn't really be cannibalism; you aren't human."

When Y'draneal eventually came round (thankfully not missing any important bits), it was decided that their best option was to brave a second dash through the chamber of the ticks.  This was accomplished and the two fighters had their platemail to thank for avoiding grisly exsanguination.

The trio discovered a chapel dedicated to the patron Thulian Saint Tenen, patron saint of craftsmen and smithies.  A statue of the saint graced the chapel, but the head had been replaced with the now familiar stone visage of Turms Termax, dating back to a time when Termaxian cultists had controlled Dwimmermount.

Looking for a reasonably safe place to hole up and rest, the party tried one more door -- an odd, translucent one.   Within the small room beyond they discovered a trove of carefully stacked, polished, metal disks -- each a foot across -- but the dim places beneath the storage shelves began to crawl and disgorged a trio of shadows, intent upon draining the explorers strength away!

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Thoughts:

• The smaller group size meant that the explorers blazed through a half-dozen rooms and made some major discoveries along the way.  
• The player of Y'draneal, our steadfast cartographer, really impressed me by stepping into the role of team leader, making swift and sound tactical decisions.  
• I thought that the ticks might just serve up a Total Party Kill ... their plate and shield equivalent AC totally set the tone for the combat ... and it took all three characters a number of rounds to destroy even a single one.  
• The absence of any offensive spell casting was pretty keenly felt ... still, they fared well enough for a thief and two fighters on the third dungeon level down.
• The shadows definitely brought on an unexpected cliff-hanger ending--Y'draneal has only nine azoth-infused arrows remaining and without spells the group may not have any other weapons that can harm these foes!

Dwimmermount with Middle Schoolers -- XXV

For the third time in a row we began a Dwimmermount session with the explorers cut off from the surface world and carefully counting every torch and day of rations still remaining to them.

The five survivors of The Damaged Souls were:

·         Vale the Grey

·         Hurtis, Sergei, & Ivor, doughty fighting men

·         Y’draneal, elven thief

After a battling a squad of the Centurion Rurik’s dwimmer-goblins to a draw, the group was holed up in what Vale determined to be some kind of ancient control room, festooned with levers, dials and switches of various types.  As Hurtis rested, some party members experimented with the controls, but to no avail – the place seemed to lack any source of power.

Meanwhile, knowing that Kenny lay dead just beyond the locked, red-steel hatch of the control room, Vale attempted a bit of necromancy, hoping to absorb enough of the recently deceased magician’s essence to gain some of his uncast spells.

While there are no rules governing this sort of action, Dwimmermount isn’t just any old dungeon either—the very air of the mountain fortress is tinted with azoth, the raw element of magic that fills the voids between the stars.  That, plus another couple details of this level that I won’t yet discuss here, meant that I was willing to allow Vale’s player a D20 roll … because … why not?

 

One natural 20 later and not Kenny, but the azoth-charged shadow of the space where his psyche used to exist slid soundlessly through the seam around the hatch!  

This living shadow wasted no time, but made an immediate assault upon Vale!  

While Ivor cowered (he’s lost about 4 permanent Strength points to shadow drain already) and Sergei gibbered, Vale hastily hit herself with a Light Spell to help ward the negative-energy entity off.  Hurtis kindled his last torch and bravely dashed to Vale’s defense; his protection plus the light kept the thing at bay.  Y’draneal fired three of his precious azoth-infused arrows (the points disintegrate upon impact) before eventually banishing the shadow.

Never one to dwell on a setback, Vale soon put her next plan into place.  She used a spell to disguise herself as one of the big goblins on level two and another to magically grant her an ability to understand their language.  With Y’draneal trailing silently far behind, she took Hurtis “captive” and proceeded toward the heavily guarded steps that led up to level 2.  Even as a container of oil bounded down the steps she called out, 

“It’s me.  I’ve taken one of the humans prisoner!”

Her bluff worked—fortunately all the super-goblins are clones, so fitting in was far easier than it would be in any other situation—and soon poor Hurtis was stripped, hog-tied, and getting the boot.

“Where are your friends!?  Where did they go?  What chamber are they in?”

Hurtis tried to hang tough for a little while, but when the goblin platoon’s cook was fetched to see if he would be good for steaks or only for the stew pot, he caved.  

“They’re in some control room!”

Fortunately, there was enough of a language barrier that his answer didn’t mean much to the goblins at first, and Vale kept up her banter, lest they figure it out. 

“He was alone, but I think he might be a Termaxian spellcaster.”

“What?  Why do you think that?”

The two kept the conversation spinning until Hurtis mumbled something about the Red Gate (the entry to the megadungeon), so persuading the goblin centurion that the rest of the group had slipped away (and also revealing that there must be another way from level three back up toward the surface).

His fate still uncertain, Hurtis was dragged off to the larder while Vale was send to man a guard post on the eastern side of the Reliquary level, her spells quickly approaching their termination.  She didn't waste a moment but fell to chatting with her fellow guards.

“So, how does a goblin get promoted around here?”

“What?”

“I mean, Centurion Rurik, how did he get to be in charge?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.  He's always been centurion.”

[Bingo: these goblins probably won't be nearly so menacing without their officer to direct them, and they seem bred to follow orders!]

“Um, so what’s the plan?  How many of those stasis chambers does Rurik have us looking for?”

“All we can find, but I heard that what the centurion is really looking for is a gate in the House of Portals.”

[Weird ... dwimmer-goblins are apparently from some other world; one possibly accessible from somewhere below level two.]

“Yeah, we’ve been on short rations as is … it don’t make no sense to bring more lads on without resupply.”

"So what should we do for fun while we are on duty?"

"What?"

"Do you guys know any songs?"

"Um ..."

Another sterling Charisma roll later and Vale had her two companions singing in rounds.

"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, establish a beachhead and swarm em and smash em and stomp their guts out and cut em to ribbons and ..."

"Okay, I think that's about all that verse can handle, but you're getting the hang of it!"

by Adam Bolton 2012

As Vale boned-up on her goblin trivia, down below in their hiding place Ivor and Sergei were sniffed out by an indeterminate number of bi-pedal rat-things.  Without Vale to do the talking, Ivor chose to throw his helmet at the nearest one (an odd choice since it was the focus of the group's active Light Spell--their only source of illumination) before charging with his greatsword.  His single chop marked the one and only combat round of the session, and though he connected with the furry creature his blow didn't seem to do it any lasting harm.  The creatures scattered, but Y'draneal's darkvision revealed that they didn't retreat far.

With their light about to fail and no word or signal having come from Vale, things began to look tense for Ivor and Sergei, until Y'draneal mention the small tent that he had been lugging around with him for some time now.  They realized that the canvas could be torn into strips, wrapped around the poles, and dipped in the oil that the goblins had flung down the steps earlier to make a bundle of quite serviceable torches.  Now with light, food (the goblins had missed Ivor's pack when shaking the party down last session), and a secure hiding place, the trio could afford to hole up in the control room for several days if necessary.

At the same time, Hurtis had plenty of opportunity to question the wisdom of Vale's plan from where he hung bound in the goblin's supply room.  Perhaps hoping to win the goblins' trust, he tried a gambit of his own.

"Hey.  Hey I had this green potion on me.  I think it might be poison.  If I let you keep it ..."

It took a moment for the goblins to work out what he was saying, but soon the green bottle was located among Hurtis's possessions.  The company cook shrugged, unstopped the bottle and pinching Hurtis's nose forced a bit of the unidentified brew down the fighter's throat.  As luck would have it, the potion reinvigorated him, helping him completely shrug off the effects of the beating he'd just taken.  Unfortunately, though fortified, Hurtis couldn't quite burst the ropes that the creatures had bound him with.

Meanwhile, up above Vale realized that the duration of her spells was about to expire.

"Hey, I hear something out in the hall.  You guys wait here, I'll have a look."

"No, that's against orders.  Centurion says no splitting up."

"Hmm ... but you guys wouldn't rat me out would you?"

"Well ... it's orders ..."

"Come on, after the good times we've had?"

"I don't fink it's a good idear."

"Wait!  It's the Termaxian mage!  I can HEAR HIS THOUGHTS.  Quick, I know where the humans went!"

Alarmed, one goblin stayed at his post while the other hurried Vale back to the centurion.  Turning a corner, she lingered far enough behind to hastily refresh her spells.

"Well.  Where are they?"

"I can't hear the exact words, but I can see the place in my mind.  Maybe we can question the mage."

"Leave that to me."

"Okay.  I can probably lead us to the place I see."

"Fine, take a squad there, but just to have a quick look then report back.  No lingering."

Soon Vale was leading a small group of the big, red-skinned goblins back down to level three where she hoped her friends would be waiting in ambush ...

Dwimmermount with Middle Schoolers -- XXIV

Session 24 began with the (recently renamed) Damaged Souls on level two of the dungeon, in the custody of Rurik the dwimmer-goblin centurion and his platoon of over-sized goblin troops.

Fortunately, the explorers were permitted to rest in the Shrine of Luck and Vale finally discharged her obligation to Saint Tyche, placing the portable altar there after a delay of 21 sessions!  Since Saint Tyche is the patron of Fortune (both good and ill), Vale was required to re-roll for hit points and actually came out one point higher than her old, pre-brain-fever total.



Meanwhile the big, red-skinned goblins rifled through the party's possessions and under Centurion Rurik's orders issued to the group only those weapons and supplies that it was decided they would need in their role as highly expendable scouts.  In exchange for access to the Shrine of Luck and cessation of hostilities, the explorers had agreed to explore level three and locate any active "stasis chambers" that the goblin commander could use to bolster his forces with additional soldiers.

Vale was denied her staff (surmounted by the cracked skull of a necrophidius), but offered a club instead ("No, I have a crowbar.  I'm good.").  Sergei, Hurtis and Kenny were shaken down for goods and each had to surrender some of their gear, but somehow Ivor was overlooked in the process.

Rurik insisted that one of the explorers remain with him as a hostage to guard against treachery by the party as they explored the halls below and Yang was chosen to stay behind.

The player characters descending were:

• Vale the Grey M-U 3
• Kenny the Magician M-U 1
• Y'draneal elven thief
• fighting men Ivor, Sergei, and Hurtis

With a squad of four big goblins trailing them, the group descended to level three where another group of sentries awaited.  These hulking, sallow-faced fellows had "troll blood in 'em" according to the other goblins.  

Pausing to examine some strange, archaic machinery (including a font covered with what seemed to be transparent metal), Kenny opined that some of the materials found here may have come from an entirely different world ... though just what that may actually mean remains to be seen.

As the group moved into a long chamber that was once decorated with ornate mosaics (the tesserae of which now crunched under their boots), relations with the goblin patrolmen steadily worsened.  What had begun as snide remarks from Vale quickly escalated into insults and threats.

When Vale muttered, "Okay, that's it--you're gonna get two crow bars to the skull," the goblins had enough of the taunting.  Now out of their centurion's earshot, the goblins shut the door behind them and called Vale over for a reckoning.  The adventurers made a half-hearted attempt to bribe the big goblins into peace with some food, but when it became clear that they intended to take it all, Kenny stepped forward and cast his Sleep Spell!

Two of the dwimmer-goblins were stunned and Vale followed with her Burning Hands, managing also to catch the hapless Kenny in the sheet of flames.  A fierce fight erupted and the big mixed-breed goblins soon came to reinforce their brethren, who had focused their attacks on the wizards.

Vale cast Change Self to disguise herself as one of the foes and pretended to take Y'draneal hostage, keeping both of them out of the melee.  

Fierce blows were traded and eventually the goblins were pushed back to the doorway, but to Ivor's dismay he observed that the wounds of one of the "thoghrin" goblins seemed to be closing right before his eyes!  

There was a tense moment when Hurtis withdrew from the line to pat down the prone Kenny and snatch his flask of alchemists' fire, briefly allowing the enemy to flank the other two fighters, but Sergei's quick footwork and skill with his ax kept them on their feet until Hurtis returned. 

Once five of the armored goblins had fallen, the rest withdrew in good order, pulling the door shut behind them.

At this point Hurtis decided to cut loose with the alchemists' fire.

"Hmm.  You aren't a wizard or an alchemist and you've never actually used alchemists' fire before.  Do you want to throw the flask at them as they close the door, or do something else?" 

"Um ... I want to open it."

"Okay, the door is almost closed."

"Light it with a torch!"

"The door is shut now.  Do you still want to throw it?"

"Blow it out!"

3D6 damage later, a blackened and scorched Hurtis was somehow still on his feet.  Beyond the closed door the dwimmer-goblins could be heard preparing their defenses.

Kenny failed his death check and was found to have succumbed to blood loss and smoke and the young wizard's remains were abandoned without ceremony.

At this point the party retreated through a red-iron door into a narrow chamber filled with odd levers, buttons, and dials, and closed the door behind.  Y'draneal had picked the lock earlier, ignoring a goblin that commented that the door was locked and nigh-impregnable, and fortunately each of the dwimmer-goblins who had been present at that time now lay dead in the mosaic chamber ... in other words, the group now had a prime hiding spot.

The session ended with the five survivors hunkering down and bandaging their wounds in hopes of hatching a plan to retake level two and open a route of escape from Dwimmermount.

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Apart from Hurtis's amusing blunder with the alchemists' fire, the crew was still a bit off this week in terms of their tactics.  Though they had fully intended to betray their alliance with goblins from the start, Vale's uncharacteristically sharp tongue pushed things toward confrontation much sooner than would have been advantageous.

Then too, while Kenny's demise might have been avoided if Vale had held her Burning Hands spell off for a slightly more opportune moment, her admittedly clever ruse of taking the elf captive meant the absence of Y'draneal's archery fire really made the front line fighters work much harder and face steeper odds (burning through all of their action surges, second wind abilities, and lots of hit points).  A couple lucky rolls from the goblins could easily have triggered a slide into a total-party-kill.

As much as anything, this session reinforced the idea that Armor Class trumps almost every other consideration in low-level D&D combats.  Plate mail and shield with a modest Dexterity adjustment on top creates the freedom to survive a tactical blunder.