.0025 Percent

The random number generation in RPGs is one of my favorite aspects of the experience.  I love seeing impossible odds being beat, and having to deal with the ramifications in the fiction of the game.  Roll20 is particularly good for this; the numbers are much more random than those generated by cheap plastic polyhedral dice. It also makes it much easier for me as a DM to roll everything in the open.  Rather than having a screen to roll behind, I have to add a command to make secret rolls. So I just don’t do it. All attack rolls, damage rolls, random encounter chances etc. are rolled in the open. The dice do not lie! The only thing I will roll secretly are monster HP, I tend to use my own monsters  so my players don’t always know the magnitude of the threat they face, rolling HD in front of them rather defeats the point of this.

Last session we played our homebrew D&D game, set in the weird-fantasy post apocalypse of Shulim.  It had been quite some time since our last game in this setting, and I opened the table to allow the players to tell me what their characters had been doing for the past month, intending to build adventure vignettes from their input.  One of the characters, a warrior named Ibash had gone off to marry a psychic blue woman named Smiling Lizard and live amongst a remote desert tribe of blue men. Ibash’s player decided he wasn’t quite ready to retire the character, and Ibash left his woman to return to the party in the city of Sanctuary.  Standing in his way was the chieftain of the tribe, a blue warrior named The August Overking. Of course a melee ensued. Here is what happened:

A roll of a 20 is always a hit, but for a “critical” we roll again, another 20 results in a d100 roll on the infamous Arduin Grimoire Critical Chart. Over the past year of play, we have rolled on this chart several times, 1 in 400 is going to happen eventually. Twice the players themselves have suffered the results of the crit chart; interestingly I rolled the same damage result twice against players (a severed Achilles tendon.) What Ibash’s player rolled here is rather improbable; two 20’s on d20’s followed by a 100 on a d100. The poor August Overking suffered the following: 100.)  Head Entire head pulped and splattered over wide area, irrevocable death

So, a success in a set piece battle for the player. The ramifications of the random numbers were not that significant in this circumstance, simply the amazing odds. Of course, in this combat as in all combats Ibash could have been slain. I don’t fudge the dice, ever. To do so would be to cheapen the influence of the randomness, and the randomness makes interesting things happen! There was no foregone conclusion in this battle.  Ibash did have a reasonable chance of success against the August Overking , they  both being  5th level Fighting-Men with decent equipment, but he also could have been slain.  Character death is usually a significant ramification of random number generation, but as the DM I do control the strength of the player’s opponents as well as the responsibility of signaling to the players that a foe may be more powerful than them.  Characters can die from unlucky rolls, this is part of the game, but more often than not character death is the result of poor decision making or simply the unwillingness to run away.  In this combat, Ibash faced a worthy opponent that was capable of killing him, but not an overwhelming foe. The combat could have gone either way, but it didn’t. It resulted in Ibash “pulping” the August Overkings head with his stone yeti greatsword and handily achieving his objective in the fiction of the game because of random number generation, because of pure chance and hitting impossible odds.  Had he not hit the impossible odds however, there was a pretty good chance that the outcome in the fiction would have been the same.

On the other end of random numbers in RPGS is catastrophic failure. Dealing with the ramifications of failure is always more interesting intellectually and creatively than dealing with success.  After the characters vignettes, we returned to the “present” with the party preparing to take off into space aboard an ancient spaceship they salvaged from a swamp and spent several adventures acquiring the means of repairing. The players run two characters each, and nearly all of them packed into the ship. Once they left the atmosphere and beheld the glory of the glittering universe stretching out before them, I asked Azax the party’s wizard and captain of the ship to roll a 3% chance of the spacecraft catastrophically imploding. The ship had major external skin damage that was repaired using the armored plates of the giant chintick beetle. 3% seemed a reasonable if not overly generous chance for failure to me.  All eyes on the dice, Azax dutifully rolled a 1.

I literally fell out of my chair. Was I facing my first TPK in 23 years of DMing? A few minutes passed, during which the table was a riot of laughter, disbelief and apprehension.  This is what letting the dice fall where they may is all about. After the initial shock, I resisted the temptation to allow them all to die in the cold vacuum of space. (This is not a reflection of me being an “adversarial” DM, the opportunity to start fresh is just always appealing to me.)  I asked the players if they thought they might have had a minute to take an action between the hull breach and the catastrophic implosion. They thought yes, and they all got an action. Axax the wizard cast Rope Trick almost all the characters climb in and Jenthar the Thief is the last character to climb the rope into the relative safety of a pocket dimension (for which there is no room for him). His player uses his other character, Mephisto the Cleric to blast him with Take Me to the Other Side of Terror from Space Age Sorcery (http://hereticwerks.blogspot.com/2013/03/space-age-sorcery-updated-version-15.html) Typically this spell only allows the caster to travel 1d20 light years across time and space but since the caster was contained in a pocket dimension it moved the entire pocket and thus the entire party. Well, almost the entire party. Jenthar was slain with Mephisto’s bolt of hellish lightning, and Belgretor the diminutive gigolo’s player had to leave right before this happened and specifically noted that he was passed out in the back of the ship. When the ships hull ruptured, Blegretor Gladomain was not in the pocket dimension. Next game he will get a save versus the vacuum of space.

So the ship that I made stats for, the planet that we detailed and explored, hell the entire sector of space all gone with a single die roll. The party is moved  1d20 light years, across either space or time. We roll 1d20 and 1d2, and indicating 14 light years across space. Suddenly, I have to adjust the entire campaign and generate a whole new setting.  The ramifications of a single dice roll fundamentally changed the entire game in an unexpected way.

All because of one random number

God I love D&D.

The Saga of Godlaugger Part I.

The Saga begins in winter with the Sons of Fridthof Hallbjorn Jarl of Bjarkoy standing in a frozen ditch outside of the northern village of Harstad. They intend to ambush men of the Othare clan with whom the Hallbjorns have a blood feud. Waiting to spill the blood of their families foes are; Godlaugger Hallbjorn eldest son of the Jarl, Ragnar the youngest son and Bardan their uncle. Drunken Othare men come down the road from a mead hall, and the Hallbjorns waylay and butcher them with axe, spear and bow.

“A good man (drengr) was expected to face challenges with courage and composure. Worrying or complaining did nothing to improve the situation and only diminished a man. The greatest test of a man was to fight to the bitter end, even in the face of certain defeat and death. Norsemen expected a share of trouble, and the best of them attempted to use it, and to rise above it creating fame for themselves through bravery, loyalty, and generosity.”

In the spring, The Jarl sends his brother and sons to slay a great wolf that has been killing the family’s sheep. The wolf proves to be a twisted monster and Godlaugger uses the power of the Gods to animate the skeletons of the dead sheep to fight the beast. He takes the head of the dark wolf to the shrine north of the families hall on Bjarkoy and offers it to Odin. When he places the head on the altar a great black raven descends from the sky and plucks out Godlauggers eye.

In the summer Jarl Fridthof task his son Ragnar to go north and collect tribute from the Skraelings. The Jarl subjugated the local tribe under the condition that a chosen Skraeling warrior be defeated in combat every year. Ragnar is chosen to represent the Hallbjorn Clan and the Jarldom. He ventures north to the Skraeling lands with his brother and uncle and slays the chosen warrior in a fight with bone knives on a natural stone bridge over an icy river. At this time Godlaugger first starts to have visions from his empty eye socket.

In the autumn a Ting is held in village of Neregarden on the Isle of Bjarkoy. All the freemen of the Jarldom assemble to settle disputes and levy judgments. The Hallbjorns propose that the Blood Feud with the Othare has been settled, but the Othare refuse to accept. Bribed by silver, the assembly rules in favor of the Othare and the blood feud is fated to continue. The Ting hears news of, Harald Fairhair a new King in the South. Harald has subjugated several Jarls, placing his own men in the halls of those who bend the knee to collect taxes from freemen. Jarl Hakon the Rich of Lade has requested that Jarl Fridthof send his Hird and raise an army to oppose King Harald who matches north to conquer Halogaland. The Ting votes to fight Harald.

In the winter, Jarl Fridthof places a silver arm ring on Ragnar who swears the oath as a Huscarl of his father’s hird.

“I am Ragnar, son of Fridthof, grandson of the mighty Snorri of whom many are the songs and tales. My family’s enemies sing the dirge songs that spring from my sword. I have fought the chosen warriors of the Skraelings and bested them for tribute, and I have faced Loki’s fell wolf and struck the beast a mighty blow. Greater deeds than these shall I gain, garnering fame like grains of gold! In this war-band shall my arms strike hard against our foes. If the gods of our people grants me the gift I ask, accepting my oath aye!"

The Jarl names Godlaugger as the Godi (holy man)of Bjarkoy. Fridthof gifts his new huscarls  with byrnies and swords. During the feast that night Godlaugger has a vision from his missing eye of Odin falling from Sleipnir and cracking his skull on the ground, gold pours from the open wound of the God. Ragnar lies with Arndis daughter of Huskarl Stenolfr and the next morning she washes and cuts his hair and gifts him a fine embroidered shirt. The freemen of Bjarkoy are assembled along with the Jarls hird and they board the longship Domhilder to sail south and fight the upstart King. They are joined by an old companion of the Jarl, Hrolfer the Black. Hrolfer is a hulking grey bearded warrior who turned to farming until his hall burned down killing his wife and children. He pledges his axe again to Jarl Fridthof hoping to find death on the battlefield and a place in Valhalla.

“A farmer accompanied his son to the warships and gave him counsel, telling him to be valiant and hardy in perils. “How would you act if you were engaged in battle and knew beforehand that you were destined to be killed?"

The son answered, "Why then should I refrain from striking right and left?"

The farmer said, "Now suppose someone could tell you for certain that you would not be killed?"

The son answered, "Why then should I refrain from pushing forward to the utmost?"

The farmer said, "In every battle you fight, one of two things will happen: you will either fall or come away alive. Be bold, therefore, for everything is preordained. Nothing can bring a man to his death if his time has not come, and nothing can save one doomed to die. To die in flight is the worst death of all."

As they sail south for the Trondheimsfjord and Nidaros seat of Jarl Hakon, they hunt and kill a narwhal taking its tusk as a charm of luck. The sea fog drives them ashore one night and they are stalked and attacked by seawolves, Hrolfer fights them off alone but fails to find the release of death. Eventually they reach Nidaros, where the assembled forces of Halogaland prepare to face King Harald Fairhair. The battle commences the next day in the snowy fields east of the city. Jarl Fridthof stands with Jarl Hakons guard and shield wall. His hird and the forces of Bjarkoy join a flanking attack, using their ships to move up the fjord and hit Haralds forces from the North. The snow turns to pink sludge and the Valkyries swarm as the battle rages. At the end of a hard fought day the Halogalanders have held against Haralds attack. The forces break apart expecting to face each other again in the morning. Searching for thier falther on the battlefield, the Hallbjorns find that Jarl Fridthof Hallbjorn was struck his death blow while in the main shield wall. Godlaugger, Ragnar and Bardan join him as he dies in the snow with the back of his skull smashed in. With his dying words he names Godlaugger as Jarl of Bjarkoy and asks his brother and sons to never bend the knee to a King.

The next day the forces of the Freemen under Jarl Hakon and the army of King Harald Fairhair are again arrayed for battle. Suddenly horns sound and Jarl Hakon and his daughter ride out to meet the King between the lines. King Harald agrees to marry Hakons daughter, in exchange for the Jarls of Halogaland swearing an oath of allegiance. The Hallbjorns are betrayed their father’s death in vain, they decide they uphold his dying wish and vow not bend a knee to the King. Bardan slays Jarl Hakon with an arrow as he rides back to the lines. He then fights Hakons son and heir Fjolf in a duel, slaying him with a poison dagger. Hakons remaining heir is just boy and the Othare clan quickly assumes control of the Jarldom. Godlaugger calls for all the free Halogalanders to join him in opposition to the King, a band of sixty do so and they fight their way back to the ships. Before they reach the shore a force of Haralds elite Danish mercenaries is going to cut them off. Alone between the two converging warbands stands a small Sami shaman.

“You urge your weary men forward, racing to reach the ships before Harold’s forces cut you off. Behind you can see Hakon’s loyalist forming to move against you. As you advance it is clear that Harold’s forces will reach the ships before you, they are a larger body moving quickly and with discipline, mostly Danes judging from their axes and helms, but at the rear are a handful of near giants, wearing animal skins, Harold’s elite berserkers. As you draw nearer to the shore and the inevitable clash you see a small Saami man, wearing a white rough spun robe over reindeer leather standing alone before Harold’s advancing forces. In one hand he holds an antler in the other a torch. He seems unconcerned about the hundreds of men charging straight towards him. Just before he is trampled he calmly drops the torch and springs away, a leaping shadow against the raging holocaust of flame that rears up between you and the King’s men.”

Baza the Sami shaman has come from the far north seeking Godlaugger, for a Raven brought the shaman the Norseman’s eye.  The new Jarl of Bjarkoy and his loyal band board the longship Domhilder and escape the combined forces of the Othare usurpers and the King. They sail north and raid an Othare holding only to be caught by the pursuing ships. A fierce sea battle ensues, and Godlauggers men triumph. Unsure in which direction to sail, Godlauger sacrifices one of the prisoners to Odin and asks the Gods for direction. The omen points to the West, and they turn their prow to the setting sun.

“You sail west across the winter sea.  Cloudy nights obscure the stars, and cold salt fog hides the sun. Once away from land you cannot follow the course of birds, or find your way with landmarks.  The older warriors among you have sailed this route in summer, but the winter makes for rough seas and difficult navigation. You become lost in the mist. Fierce storms wrack your ship exhausting you and the crew. Shivering and wet, you watch with despair as the night sky taunts you with sinister displays of red and purple lights.  Eventually your food and water run out and very quickly men begin to die. All hope is surely lost, the Gods have abandoned you.  At night you see a great serpent writhing between the sky and sea. Survivors attempt to eat each other, or cast themselves into the black abyss that is the ocean. Then one morning the sea is calm, and you sail through a world of silent fog. Nothing can be seen in the dim grey light. Suddenly pale bloated hands grip the gunwales and the dead members of your crew hoist themselves aboard the vessel, black mouths pour foul water on the decks as pale milky eyes seek living flesh to consume.”

After fighting off the Draug crows feast on the flesh of the dead and Domhilder collides with the shore breaking apart on the rocks of the Orkney Isles. Ketil Flatnefer , a mighty warrior with no nose is Jarl of the Orkneys , and he takes the wary band into his hall.

““A fell wind howls across the winter water, the earth shakes, my men tell me Jörmungandr rises, and now a grim band of warriors rises from the sea like the draugr of my nightmares. Has Ragnaraok come? Tell me, who are you and what curse do you bring to my hall?”

When he learns that Godlaugger is the son of  Fridthof Hallbjorn, and what has transpired with the King, Jarl Flatnefer welcomes them and they spend the rest of the winter recovering in his hall.

The displaced hird of Bjarkoy is treated with respect in Jarl Flatnefers lands. In the spring the Jarl ask Godlaugger to lead the celebration of Eoster a veneration of Freya. A blot of lambs is made, magic mushrooms are eaten and Godlaugger has ritual sex with Eyja the Seiðkonur(Witch). Eventually Jarl Flatnefr calls the Hallbjorns and their huscarls before him.

“You have proven to be good companions and proper drengr , welcome guest in my hall but the time has come for you to pick up the strands of your fate. I still fear that you bring doom before you, and will not tempt the gods by entwining my own death with yours. You are a Chieftain severed from his people; I cannot ask you to join my own hird, so you must go.  I do not send you away from my hall without a purpose however. Grim and fell are your faces, sharp and thirsty are your blades, to the North of Hrossa is an abandoned place, a mighty stone tower of the Picts on the island of Hrolfsay. My son and his men once sought to claim this broch but they never returned. My men tell me a great Troll haunts the tower. Go there and find your fate, honor or death you cannot change it. Slay the beast and the broch and island are yours in the name of Ketil Flatnefr, Jarl of Orkney. “

They travel to the isle of Hrolfsey and face Uth the Troll who wears the skin of men and sings an evil song. After slaying the Troll Godlaugger takes a ring from her finger and they explore the broch and find a wicked altar with three rooster statues; one of gold, one of copper, and one of obsidian.  They claim Midhow Broch and spend the rest of the spring rebuilding the tower with the help of thralls gifted to them by Jarl Flatnefr. At this time, the Seiðkonur and her daughter come to Hrolfsey to be the women of Godlaugger. He impregnates the Seiðkonur.

In the summer, Jarl Flatnefr calls the hird of Godlaugger to the summer blot and the Ting of the Orkney’s. Ketil names Godlaugger chieftain of Hrolfsey. At the Ting, the hard men of the isles vote to decide where to raid. Most of them favor the easy pickings of Ireland, but Godlaugger and his hird want to strike at King Harald in Norway. While they argue the cases, on of Ketils men arrives wounded and tells a tale of the Picts in Caithness who normally pay tribute to the Norsemen, instead massing to attack the Isles. Jarl Flatnefr will vote to send his ships east to attack Harald if Godlaugger and his hird will help them defeat the Picts. They agree.

Jarl Flatnfer and the Godi Godlaugger Chieften of Hrolfsey join their hirds , gather the Freemen of the Orkey Isles and sail south to Caithness in order to put down Giric mac Dúngail King of Caith. The armies meet in the moorlands of Caith, and the Norsemen pit their axes and spears against the bows and bronze blades of the painted Pictish warriors. Outnumbered, but more heavily armed and skilled the Norse of the Orkney’s bloodedly crush Giric mac Dúngail rebellion, and once again collect tribute from the Picts of Caithness.

Returning to The Isles, Jarl Flatnefr gives Godlaugger a longship in thanks for joining him in battle, and the savage Vikings of Orkney sail east to attack their fatherlands now under the dominion of King Harald the Fairhair.

Godlaugger and his hird sail east to the western shores of Norway. Guided by a vision from his missing eye the Godi plants a Nithing Pole in Harald’s domain making an oath of vengeance and asking the Gods to curse the King. They raid Norse towns, targeting those lands that have bent the knee to Harold. Through the summer they raid, collecting a sizeable amount of booty. Eventually they strike the city if Vik , and are caught by Haralds forces, a pitched battle takes place in the town.  The Hallbjorn warband set’s the town on fire to divide the enemy forces and cover their getaway. They steal a magnificent drakkar that they name Bitfrost from the harbor and escape.

After singeing the Fairhair’s beard, Godlaugger and his hird return to Hrolfsey in the autumn.  More Vikings flock to Godlauggers banner and his hall at Midhow Broch is filled with raid won treasure.  The Seiðkonur will soon have his child, but in her pregnancy she has visions of doom stalking Hrolfsey, and takes to speaking with the rooster statutes found in Uth the Troll’s lair. It is clear that a deeper evil dwells in the island. It also becomes apparent that Jarl Ketil Flatnefer’s rule of the Orkney’s is threatened by the Bjornhall’s sudden glory.

Winter arrives again in the treeless isles, the nights are long and winds like icy daggers rip at the flesh. The Hallbjorn hirdsmen drunkenly whisper of the dead climbing out of the ancient cairns around Hrolfsey.  Jarl Flatnefr has not invited Godlaugger to the winter blot on Hrossa.  A chill descends on the Norsemen of the Orkney’s.

The Edda of 5th Edition

About a year ago, we were playing a game set in a fantasy 9th century Scandinavia using the Old School Hack Rules. (http://www.oldschoolhack.net) It was the first campaign in a return to RPGs from an almost ten year hiatus.  Starting with just three of us at a table on a birthday lark and blooming to a Roll20 game with a large and varied cast of players.  The game was a blast, with an epic story, great characters and plenty of brutal Dark Age violence.  Eventually we sort of reached the limits of the OSH system, and I was house ruling most of the game. Borrowing from AD&D 2nd ed Of Ships and the Sea, and inventing my own Mass Combat Rules.

(Here are the OSH Mass Combat Rules if you are interested: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B6M_e2bSTRh5RFJtWWFMV3Z6UlE/view?usp=sharing )

This game rekindled interest in RPGs for my friends I that was dormant for far too long. Since then we have played almost every weekend for over a year. I became interested in the OSR, we began a new campaign with Swords and Wizardry and through play we crafted a set of “old school” D&D rules: (https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B6M_e2bSTRh5MHNTXzdsVU9MaW8/view?usp=sharing) These rules have seen us through my homebrew sword and sorcery game Shulim, as well as the I6 Ravenloft module.

During the course of this last year of play, WOTC released D&D 5th edition. I was on the fence about a new edition as I did not care for 3rd and 4th. After reading the favorable impressions in the OSR blogosphere however and receiving an Amazon gift card for my birthday I made the plunge and got the books. I like the new game enough to let go of my almost intuitive understanding of “old school” D&D and explore a new set of rules. Fortunately, I think 5th ed is close enough to pre 3rd ed D&D that my understanding of the “old” game will allow me to make proper rulings, hopefully this will make the transition a bit easier.

So what to do with 5th ed? Shulim is built from the ground up for old school D&D, 5th ed would probably work but the task of converting the huge amount of material we have created is a bit daunting. Also, I am not ready to fully switch to the new edition; our house rules and the old school in general are awesome.  What we need is a new campaign for 5th edition. Fortunately, the Viking game was never satisfactorily finished in a narrative sense, we just moved on because we outgrew the OSH system.  So 5th edition Vikings it is.

I will convert the old OSH characters to 5th ed, and we will return to the Saga of Godlauggr the Godi. Creating 5th ed versions of the characters should help me to better understand the system before we play, and the campaign will be a great test drive of the new rules.

I will write a synopsis of the Saga thus far and post it here, along with the 5th ed versions of the characters once they are created.

“An eleventh I know, if haply I lead

my old comrades out to war,

I sing 'neath the shields, and they fare forth mightily;

safe into battle,

safe out of battle,

and safe return from the strife.”

-Lee M. Hollander, trans. Poetic Edda

Ravenloft Final Play Report and Epilogue

The Final session of our I6 Ravenloft adventure began with a much reduced party recuperating in the dilapidated Church of Barovia. Anthaar Zweck once a strong Danish warrior has been diminished; his skin has greyed and he has developed a limp and stoop that mar his once proud bearing. The Dastur whose Clerical powers thus far have proved to be essential in the fight against darkness is visibly aged, his life force sucked from him by the Count. The priest once magnificent beard is ragged and grey. Ulrich the dashing swashbuckler is no longer the handsome youth who entered the cursed fog, a streak of white has appeared in his hair, and wrinkles besmirch his once handsome face.  Archbishop Andrei suffered the horrors of imprisonment and torture by Strahd’s vampire women. All but one of the company’s henchmen has been brutally slain, the only remaining follower is Abu the fearless Moor.  As the snow fell on another grey morning in the mist filled land of Barovia the party faced a decision.

They knew they could not last much longer in this land of life draining and death.  They had to make a choice, destroy the Count and release the land from the Vampires evil, or bring a willing Ireena to Strahd so that he may take her his eternal bride in darkness. Either decision would allow them to pass through the cursed fog that surrounds the land and be free of tainted Barovia once and for all.

While they pondered their decision, Ismark the Lesser berated them for returning to the village with the task of slaying the Vampire Lord unfinished. The son of the late Burgomaster accused them of misusing the relic, and demanded that if they did not intend to face Strahd they must return the relic to him. He warned Ireena against the party, and then stormed out of the church only to face a horde of Strahd zombies and immediately run back. The weary party once again took up rapier and matchlock to face the abominations of Barovia . After an opening salvo of fireballs, a fierce melee took place in the entryway of the church. The Strahd Zombies, on taking 5 points of damage break apart and independent pieces then act autonomously. Eventually a mass of dismembered arms, feet, heads , and other putrid bits all attack Mellin the Frenchman,  dropping him to -5 HP. He makes a save versus death at -5 and passes, falling unconscious at 0 HP rather than dying. A renewed effort from the party finishes off the remaining abominations, and the battle is won.

After recuperating from this fight the party decided to use Ireena as a key to allow passage through Castle Ravenloft without being attacked by Strahd or his minions. With the goal of recovering the weapon which was foretold to be in the Counts Tomb, that they know lies in the lowest depths of the castle. Before they undertook this last desperate gamble however, they wanted to be certain they could rely on the holy light generated by the Relic of St. Ravenloft. Since it was used but the day before, they consulted with Father Donavitch. The Priest told them the tale of Prince Aripeti son of a local Gepid King, who defied the pagan witches of the Gepids and converted to Christianity in the 9th century. For his conversion Aripert was locked in the tower of Castle Ravenloft and tortured until death. Father Donavitch speculates that if prayers were made in the tower over the holy thigh bone its powers may be renewed. The party had their plan, and they set off for the castle once again.

They headed west across the dismal snowy lands and by mid afternoon they were on the road ascending the Balinok Mountains.  Emerging from the trees, they came to a curve in the path along a cliff; standing before them was a Ghost. Everyone in the party except the Clerics (who are immune) and Nicolo the Sorcerer failed their save versus fear and aged ten years as they ran away screaming. This left the three facing a Ghost. Archbishop Andrei attempted to turn and failed, Nicolo threw a lightning bolt that passed through the apparition without harming it, and The Dastur bravely charged with his Holy Bull Mace.  Nicolo was attacked by the Ghost Magic Jar spell, he felt his soul being ripped from his body, but his strength of will wrenched it back as he resisted the spell. Then the Ghost partially manifested in the material plane, forming vicious black talons on its arms as it moved forward to attack. The Priest and Wizard bravely stood and fought, Nicolo drew his magic dagger and the clerics their holy weapons. After a few rounds of missing the semi corporal ghost, the creature successfully struck Nicolo with its cold black claws. The Wizard aged thirty years, immediately becoming an old, old man of 90. At this point, the bravery appeared suicidal, and the three of them retreated to rejoin the rest of the party who had not stopped running the entire time.

Night began to fall as the company regrouped. They camped near the road in the woods at the foot of the mountains. With a Ghost blocking the path to the Castle, and the wizard now a doddering old codger, the situation seemed grim. Perhaps no longer resolved to be hero’s or perhaps just hedging their bets, Nicolo and Andrei attempted to convince Ireena that it was her duty to sacrifice herself to the Count in order to remove the curse from the land. Her spirit broke as she accepted her fate and she gave herself over to the party to be delivered to the vampire. A single wolf watched the drama from outside the campfire, and when Ireena accepted her doom, it transformed into a vampire woman and then a bat that flew off to deliver the news to the castle.

It wasn't long before the Count’s black carriage arrived with four vampire maidens to escort the bridal party to Strahd waiting in the chapel of Ravenloft.

At this point, I thought the players were genuinely going to give Ireena up, accepting the deal Strahd offered to allow them to leave if they could convince her to marry him. I prepared a suitable dowry of the castles treasures for Ulrich, Zweck and Nicolo, would have stripped the Clerics of their powers, and made Mellin the new Lord of Ravenloft. As is usual, they ended up acting contrary to my expectations…

Once they arrived at Castle Ravenloft and headed for the chapel the players stopped in the grand entry, and demanded that Ireena be allowed to pray and purify herself before she be married.  The Vampire maidens seemed unsure, and one left to consult her master.  It was at this moment that the party put part one of their plan into action. Ulrich the Thief who had previously been made invisible, struck off alone to descend into the lowest level of Castle Ravenloft and retrieve the Sunsword from the tomb of Strahd. At the base of the stairs, I rolled a random encounter indicating a Groaning Spirit. Since the Thief was invisible, I ruled he could pass by undetected with a move silently roll. He failed. The Groaning Spirit keened, Ulrich failed a save versus death, and died alone in the darkness of Castle Ravenloft.

This module is FULL of saves versus death. We made at least three per session. This was the only one that a player failed. Ulrich’s player was understandably upset. On the other hand, he did go off by himself in one of the nastiest dungeons in all of D&D.

While the Thief sneaked off to his doom, Strahd himself arrived to decide if his future wife might pray before she is taken into darkness. He used the previously charmed Mellin to convince her otherwise, not wanting to personally countermand the object of his obsessions. Mellin failed to convince Ireena of the futility of prayer. Strahd then Charmed The Dastur , and instructed him to forsake his god Ahura Mazda in front of Ireena. The Dastur did so, and lost his spell casting and turning abilities. Still not convinced in the meaninglessness of her faith, (and also aware of the party’s plan,) Ireena insisted that she be allowed one last prayer and that she be able to do it where she wishes not in the despoiled chapel. Strahd, his judgment and power diminished at the thought of finally attaining the object of his long and tortured desires, consented and allowed the party to escort his future bride to the tower for prayer.

They climbed the tower towards the chamber where St. Ravenloft was martyred. I rolled a random encounter, and fortunately it indicated a Friendly Spirit. The Dastur asked the spirit if he could regain his faith, and the spirit told him he must have Atonement cast upon him by another Zorastrian.  The party arrived at St Ravenlofts chamber, prayed over the Relic and restored power to the holy thigh bone.  Now armed with the means to face the Count, they escorted Ireena to the chapel and her dark wedding.

The Count and his four vampire maidens awaited the bride in the chapel, two maidens flanking the party on either side at short range and Strahd himself standing before the altar at long range.  The Count offered a gilded chest of treasures as dowry, pleased that the party had brought to him the reincarnation of the woman for which he suffered the long and terrible curse. Archbishop Andrei immediately produced the Relic of St. Ravenloft which burst into Holy Fire as bright as the sun for 1d10 rounds. The Priest rolled a 4 stunning all the vampires for four combat rounds. The players needed to hit 22 on an attack roll to stake a stunned vampire, and got a +4 to attack a stunned foe. Nicolo cast Feeblemind on the Count, but the Vampire made his save. The Dragon breathed fire at Strahd while The Dastur, Mellin, and Abu (now controlled by Ulrich’s player) advanced from long to short range.

On the next turn, Nicolo threw a lightning bolt and further damaged the Count. Now at short range, Abu the Moor charged, as he did so he raised his wooden stake high and screamed in Berber that God is Great.  Ulrich’s player rolled the attack, and successfully staked Count Strahd von Zarovitch ending the Counts cursed existence with a flash of light as the first vampire crumbled to dust.  The vampire maidens were released from their masters will, but still stunned. Mellin physically destroyed two with fireballs their gaseous forms slinking into the darkness, Andrei staked another and the fourth became gaseous and fled when the light of the Relic faded.

The Dastur regain his faith, the welcome rays of the sun filled the chapel, the fog lifted from the borders of Barovia , and the players were free.

Strahd died at the hands of the last henchmen via dice rolled by the only player who lost a character.

Perfect.

Ravenloft Epilogue

I have never really run D&D modules. I generally prefer a more free form associative style of play. I dangle a setting appropriate hook and allow the players actions and the consequences of those actions to create interesting story elements that I tie together in a quasi-random sort of way. Since I’ve become more interested in “Old School” D&D I have encountered a shared experience amongst players, a sort of common language of the classic modules that I do not have firsthand knowledge of. So I decided to run some modules.  As a player with this same group, I just finished B2 The Keep On The Borderlands, and now we have I6 Ravenloft under our belts.

I don’t think I will be running more modules anytime soon.

Ravenloft was a doom filled, anxiety ridden, level draining slog with a silly vampire love story and a complicated dungeon.

I think we would have had more fun just letting these characters loose in the 16th century Mediterranean, rather than Barovia. The game had its moments, but the central mechanic became: Can you finish this module with enough XP to be able to do so.

Seriously, level drain is the worst thing that can ever happen to a character. I honestly believe my players would rather have a character die than be level drained.

This mechanic, a race against the XP drain clock to finish the game is intellectually interesting but in actual play it sucks.

I’m looking forward to getting back to sandbox-ish swords and sorcery.

Or maybe Gamma World.