The Salt Pit; Part Two

"Looks deep," Samuel observed, leaning over the pit entrance.

"Nae, 'tis no mor'n fitty feet duwn," Huthgar replied.

"Oh, well, in that case we can just jump," said Erlik.

"Ha!" barked the Dwarf, slapping the Wizard on the back and nearly knocking him into the open hole. "Nice 'un, laddie! Jump!" Huthgar laughed heartily, then sobered. "Nae, 'tis too fer . . . mor's tha pity." He sighed. "Ah ken see tha bot'um tho'."

"Good, you can go first," offered Lily. "Paco says the first tunnel's about twelve feet down. I think I can just see it." She pointed to a dark spot. "Seems to be a, what, an indention? Just there."

"Aye, thae be tha op'nin'," agreed Huthgar. "A'll go duwn thar and light a torch fer tha rest o' ya."

"Be careful," cautioned the heavy Fighter. "That ladder doesn't look all that strong."

"Paco did say they use a makeshift crane for hauling the sacks of salt out." Erlik looked around, then pointed. "Probably that thing." He pointed at a contraption off to the side. "Given that he and Ralph didn't wear heavy armor when they mined the salt . . ." He shrugged.

The Dwarf stuffed a torch into his belt. "Right, careful as ah go," he acknowledged, stepping onto the ladder.

The Dwarf cautiously made his way down the ladder to the entrance of the first tunnel. "Thae be a bracket here!" he called up. Shoving the torch into the sconce, he lit it.

"There's the light," observed the Wizard. "You should go next," he said, looking at the Rogue. "In case our uninvited guest has taken precautions against intruders?"

"Traps; right." With that, Lily hopped onto the ladder and quickly made her way down.

"You next," said Samuel. "If the ladder's going to break, it will do so under my weight. Best you already be down there."

"Yes," breathed Erlik. "All of us trapped together. Well, that's one way to go." The Wizard stepped onto the ladder and was soon joined with the others.

In a few moments, Samuel joined them. "Well, the ladder held together."

The tunnel was just wide enough for two people to stand next to each other and perhaps twenty feet long. Roots grew down, out of the ceiling, which was just high enough for the six foot tall Samuel to stand erect, with a couple of inches to spare.

"Here be tha s'plies Paco told of," said Huthgar.

"Ugh!" Lily croaked. "And here's the foot."

Erlik bent down and looked closely at the appendage. "Yes, yes, these are teeth marks." He pointed to the ragged flesh at the end of the appendage, which had been severed just about half way up the calf. "This was bitten off."

"Nice, the monster thinks we're dinner," breathed Samuel. "What else is new?"

Erlik looked at Lily. "I say we push these two down the shaft and let the monster eat them." He shrugged. "It'll die of indigestion."

Lily smiled at the red robed man. "Considering  how long it's been since either of them have bathed . . . you're probably right."

Samuel chuckled. "True enough. Of course, if Huthgar and I throw you two down there . . . it'll soon die of starvation!"

"Ha! Well said, lad!" The Dwarf agreed. "Ye both be needin' mor meat on yer bones."

The Wizard sighed. "Regrettably, neither choice is an option. I'm afraid we're just going to have to go down there and kill it the old fashion way."

"An wha' way be that?" asked Huthgar.

"Magic and muscle," the Wizard replied. "Now grab the rope and light the lanterns."

*  *  *  *

"By the gods!" cried Lily, quickly covering her mouth with her hand, eyes wide in horror. "What is that smell?"

"If I had to guess? I'd say that." Erlik pointed, his voice muffled by the sleeve of his robe, which covered the lower part of his face.

"What is it?" asked Samuel, his nose all wrinkled up against the foulness.

"If I had to guess, I said . . . droppings," Erlik replied. "I think we've found our friend's latrine."

"Ack! Ah n'ver smelt ena'thin so horrid in me life!" Huthgar claimed.

Erlik leaned in close, peering intensely. "Yes, definitely droppings." Looking about, he located the remains of a broken pick. Using the broken end of the handle, he prodded the foul stuff.

"What are you doing?" asked Samuel.

"Ack! Wizards!" scoffed Huthgar. "Thae alus be pokin' inta nasty stuff!"

"An interesting diet our friend has," observed Erlik, ignoring Huthgar's comment. "Unless I am greatly mistaken, there are parts of a Gelatinous Cube in here."

"A Gelatinous Cube?" asked Lily, incredulous. "What on Oerth eats Gelatinous Cubes?"

"Our friend, here . . . apparently," Erlik replied, continuing his examination. "Well, that rules out the possibility of those two giving it indigestion."

"I'd say so," Lily agreed.

"And what's this?" Erlik shoved a small clump of feces to the side and, putting the pick handle down, reached into his robes, pulling out a pair of tweezers. A sparkle of green glinted in the lantern light. He took hold of it with his tweezers and brought it fully into the light.

"Interesting," he breathed. "It would seem our friend below also eats emeralds."

"Emeralds?" Samuel nearly shouted, hurriedly bending over the Wizard's shoulder and nearly pushing him to the ground. "There's emeralds in the scat?"

"Would you mind trying not to shove me into the stuff?" Erlik demanded, shrugging his shoulders and trying to shake Samuel off of him.

"Oh! Sorry!" Samuel contritely replied, backing away from the squatting Wizard.

"I found one emerald," Erlik answered. "Whether or not there are more of them, I cannot say. Shall we poke through all of this?" He waved his hand, indicating the numerous piles of feces.

Huthgar and Samuel looked at each other, then scrambled to find their own sticks.

Lily shook her head. "Disgusting!"

The Salt Pit; Part One

"Do not make me talk about your mother," Samuel warned.

"Ha! And wha'd ye be knowin' 'bout me mutter?" Huthgar retorted.

"What? You think I've never been to a brothel?" Samuel ask.

"Please!" Erlik interjected. "Really? Really? You two have been at it for the last two days!"

"Let it go, Erlik," Lily suggest. "You know it's how they pass the time while we travel."

"Yes, but two days?" the Wizard demanded, shaking his head. "The childish banality is beginning to drive me crazy."

"Ta bad we nae be mor' 'fisticated' fer ya, 'lik ma lad," the Dwarf replied.

"Erlik . . . Erlik; how many times . . ."

"Don't!" the Rogue cried. "Don't! He's just trying to bait you. You need to stop letting him. As long as he knows it's working, he won't stop."

"You two spoil all the fun," the Fighter complained. "Huthgar and I . . ."

The big man stopped speaking as a simple home came into view; smoke rising from the stone chimney. Partly timber construction, partly rough cut stone, it was a ramshackle place, with only a small garden off to the side. It looked to be about a story and a half tall.

"Nae much o' a farm, I be thinkin'," said Huthgar.

"That garden's not big enough for much more than a family," Erlik offered. "I'm guessing that 'farming' isn't how this man makes his living."

"Well, there's smoke," said Lily. "Maybe he'll trade us a meal for a few coppers?"

"Certainly won't hurt to ask," Erlik agreed.

Samuel flashed a smile. "I'm tired of my own cooking . . . but let's approach slowly, we don't want to frighten them."

"Aye, caution 'tis tha word, laddie," agreed Huthgar. "I nae wan' tae spoil a chance fer good food . . . even if'n it be little mor'n stew."

The group approached the home slowly. As they neared, a shutter opened on a window and the face of a man peered out at them. A moment later, the face disappeared, the shutter closed and the door opened.

A man stood just outside the door, wearing homespun and worn leather boots. He looked nervously towards a wooden platform not too distant from his door, then back at the group.

"Greetings my good man," said Erlik. "My friends and I have been traveling for some time and would appreciate a place to rest and some hot food. We can pay."

The man opened his mouth, then hesitated as he looked at the man in red robes. "Greetings . . . friend," he finally replied, in a tenor voice that sounded nervous. "I would gladly offer ya and ya companions food, but it may not be safe." He again looked nervously towards the wooden platform.

"Trouble?" asked Samuel, following the man's gaze.

"Yes," the man replied. "Bad trouble."

"Mayhap we can hep ya, lad," offered Huthgar. "In 'schange fer yer hos'tality."

"If that's possible, I would be most grateful," the man quickly responded. "My name is Paco and I am a salt miner." He pointed to the platform. "A creature has taken over my mine and killed my helper!" His voice grew louder as his excitement built. "It's even attacked the house a couple of times!" He pointed at the door and walls of the home.

"Let's see," Samuel said, as he dismounted. He walked over to the door and examined it closely, then the wall on either side. "These are claw marks . . . deep ones." He looked at his friends. "Something's been trying to get in alright."

The group dismounted.

"Please, if you can help; the tax collector is due any day," Paco continues. "I don't have any real money and I haven't been able to get into my mine for almost two weeks now! The tax collector will take most of the salt I presently have -- if we can even get to it -- but I'll still have a few sacks left over. I have a wife and two small children. Free us of this monster and I'll give you three of the remaining sacks!"

"We can pro'bly get mor'n a few silver fer a couple sacks o' salt," said Huthgar.

Lily sneered at the Dwarf. "There's some kind of monster trying desperately to eat a woman and two children and you're thinking about money?"

"How'd ya know 'tis tryin' tae ate 'em?" the Dwarf retorted.

"It ate my friend!" cried Paco, his posture suddenly slumping "At least, all I ever found of him was his . . . uh, foot." The miner swallowed hard. "All I found was his foot and a part of his lower leg."

Lily slapped the Dwarf on his shoulder. "See?"

"While Huthgar is correct in thinking that we must be practical," Erlik chimed in. "Lily is also correct in thinking that there is no need for us not to be charitable; two sacks of salt would be sufficient, I think." The Wizard looked at Paco. "As long as they come with a home cooked meal and a place for us, and our horses, to spend the night?"

Paco's face lit up with signs of hope. "You're welcome to put your animals in the lean-to," he pointed to the other side of  his home. "And the four of you are welcome to bed down in the main room for the night. My wife is a good cook; but there won't be much. The creature -- whatever it is -- has left our garden alone and we've been able to tend it, a little, during the day; along with some harvesting. But the meat's about gone and most of the flour. " He shrugged. "I haven't been able to hunt , or go to town, and that, that . . . thing, killed and devoured the last of my pigs four days ago. There's enough venison left for a nice stew, but not enough for steaks."

" A hearty stew sounds just fine," Lily replied, looking at her companions.

"Well, there's still plenty of daylight," says Samuel. "No sense giving this thing -- whatever it is -- a chance to kill our horses during the night. How big is this mine?" he asked, turning to Paco.

"I have a map inside my home," Paco replied excitedly. "I can give you all the information you need. There are even some supplies in my storage tunnel; the first one you'll come to. The salt deposits in it played out last year. There's two small cask of lantern oil, two lanterns and three hundred feet of rope stored there" He swallowed hard again. "You'll find Ralph's . . . foot, in there as well. My boys can tend your animals while we go inside and look over the map; if you'd like?"

"By all means," agreed the Wizard. "Let's go inside and make our plans."

Into The Manor #5

Huthgar belched. "Tis Brom, I tell you!"

"Okay, so who is this 'Brom' again?" asked Samuel.

"A damn murderer!" Huthgar replied, downing another large gulp of ale. "Tha worse enemy of dwarven-kind! A traitor to his people!"

"If he's such a special enemy of the dwarves, why is he plaguing this human town?" asked Lily.

"'Cause he hates everybody!" cried the dwarf, slamming his tankard down onto the table and sloshing ale everywhere. "He likes ta kill . . . fer tha killin's sake! He worships Nillium; a dark an' evil god. Sacrificed a whole clan of dwarves to the bugger, he did."

"How does that connect to a haunted house?" asked Erlik, daubing ale from his red robes with a towel and shaking his head. "Slob," he breathed.

"Tomb, not house," corrected Lily.

"Tomb, house . . ." the wizard shrugged. "What's the difference? Haunted is haunted in this place. I mean, we're sitting in a tavern called the Wailing Banshee; of all things."

"Sir Reginald is dead and buried," said Samuel, belaboring the obvious. "So there's some difference."

"Brom nae be a ghost!" insisted Huthgar. "He's a evil bastard, aye, have no doubt, and a powerful cleric . . . but no ghost!"

"Okay, so he's an evil, bastard cleric that's fixing to be a ghost," Erlik shrugged again. "The townspeople want the bandits dealt with; driven off or killed. Let's just be about it."

"Aye!" cried Huthgar, jumping to his feet and lifting his waraxe over his head. "'Tis high time tha bastard died!"

The Manor #5, by our friend, Tim Shorts, of Gothridge Manor, is filled with little one off adventures this time around, as opposed to the single adventure we have come to expect. In the above "short" I've combined one of the characters found within with Tim's latest offering: Crypt of Sir Reginald. I'm using the Crypt to supplant the Haunted House offered -- located on page twenty -- in this issue of The Manor.

Tim's a good man for coming up with ideas. This time he's collaborated with Chris Coski and Sean Robson, two names that are unknown to me, alas. Jay Penn -- another unknown to me -- provided the artwork, making for some right evil looking bastards. Well done Jay!

Sean Robson provided a nice list -- located on page twelve -- from which to create tavern names; I used one above. I plan on using one of Chris Coski's Cursed Concoctions -- located on page nine -- in the next short. A friend has talked me into writing a story based upon Tim's offerings, though it didn't take much arm twisting to tell you the truth.

Now that I'm working with The Manor #5, I'll be using characters and concoctions offered within to tell the story of our intrepid adventurers: Huthgar, Lily, Samuel and Erlik. I'll be posting the stories here, on the Blog, in chapter form.

Hope you enjoy them.

Into The Manor #4

"Kord's mercy!" cried Samuel "What is that pounding?"

"It's the other table," moaned Huthgar. "The guy's tapping his foot."

"I've never been so hung over in all my life," groaned Lily. "I didn't know I could drink so much."

A man entered the tavern, a dandy, judging by his dress. He walked into the middle of the room, right next to their table.

"Hear ye! Hear ye!" The man bellowed.

"By the gods!" Samuel cried out in agony, grabbing his head and trying to bury his face in the table. "Make it stop!"

"The Hamlet of Low Ridge is calling for the assistance of a group of brave individuals to rid the region of a pack of horrible creatures!" The crier continued, in a loud, clear voice. "Any interested parties are to travel to Low Ridge and meet with Walter, Bailiff of Low Ridge! Reward will be negotiated upon acceptance!"

"Kill it!" pleaded Lily. "Somebody please kill it!"

The fancy-dressed man looked at the group with a raised eyebrow.

"What is it?" asked Samuel.

"A crier," murmured Huthgar. "A town crier."

"I swear, if it 'cries' again, I'm gonna kill it," whispers Lily.

"It's not my fault you're hung over, you know," said the dandy.

"Maybe not," moaned Samuel. "But it's your fault my head's pounding now."

"I'm merely doing my job," the dandy replied. "There's trouble in Low Ridge and they seek adventurers. I was told that you were adventurers. I've read the flyer and cried the news, I shall go now."

"Wait a minute," said Huthgar. "Just wait a minute." The dwarf looked at his companions. "I lost three teeth in that last fight."

"So?" Lily looked at the dwarf through blood-shot eyes.

"So, I've still got more teeth than I've got coins," Huthgar replied, hooking his thumb in the direction of the crier. "This guy's offering us work."

"He's advertising work," Samuel corrects. "Not offering."

Lily swung her head to look at Samuel and immediately regretted it. "Ugh!" She put her hand to her forehead. "So what's the difference?"

Samuel shrugged. "Nothin', I guess." He turned his head to look at the crier and groaned. "So, what's this job again?"

Thus begins the Adventure: Incident at Butcher Creek.

The Manor, issue #4, is larger than Tim's first three endeavors, because it's a longer adventure. Tim uses creatures unique to himself, I'm thinking, as I am unfamiliar with several of those he outlines in this issue. Although some of his monsters are familiar to me, if a bit different.

The problem at Low Ridge is the Shadow Panthers plaguing the town. For a description of this animal, think Displacer Beast. (For some reason I couldn't copy & paste this from the pdf) The artist rendition found in the 2^nd Edition Monster Manual is more in line with Tim's Shadow Panther than is the artwork depiction in the 3.5 Monster Manual. Only, remember that the Shadow Panthers have four tentacles, not two.

While the Shadow Panthers are the immediate problem, they are not the only problem and certainly not the "biggest" problem, especially over the long term. No, that honor belongs to the Or'Drog, a creature of Chaos, from the Abyss. It's trying to build a gate into our world; something that cannot be allowed, obviously.

"The shadow panthers are a problem," admits Horta, the village Elder. "But they're not the only problem, nor the biggest."

"There's a bigger problem?" ask Samuel, eyes wide.

"Oh yes," Horta replies. "A much bigger problem and a more dangerous one."

"Well this just keeps getting better and better," says Lily, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

The Or'Drog is slowly corrupting the people of the village of Low Ridge. Its shape is that of a floating head, similar in concept to a Beholder, or a Grell, but with powers all its own. Confusion, Charm, Sleep and Polymorph are its main weapons, though there are a few others.

All in all, a very nice little adventure, something I've come to expect from Tim. And Tim throws in a few other unique monsters near the end. Another fine work from our friend Tim, over at Gothridge Manor.

Keep the fine products coming Tim!

Strength versus Dexterity

I use House Rules to correct mistakes. The mistakes are not perceived, they are real. Take for instance: Frostburn.

I was looking through this publication just the other day and came across yet another example of the Writers not understanding their Stats and the Editors not catching, or correcting, the mistake. In Frostburn, they confuse Strength with Dexterity.

What is Strength? Strength is damage, plain and simple. What is Dexterity? Dexterity is "to hit," plain and simple.

When Heracles tries to grab the wily little thief, he misses. That's poor Dexterity. But, what happens when Heracles finally succeeds in grabbing him? The wily little thief is finished. That's Strength. Heracles has a hard time catching the quick little rogue, but, once he does, Heracles deals incredible damage.

The mailed Knight foolishly laughs at d'Artagnan. Why? The Knight knows that d'Artagnan cannot ever pierce all that plate armor. That's poor Strength. But, as I said, the Knight does so foolishly. Why? Because of d'Artagnan's great Dexterity. We all know that d'Artagnan is most definitely going to find – and hit – that one spot where the Knight's armor doesn't fill the tiny gap. Poor Strength, yes, but fantastic Dexterity.

Strength is damage, plain and simple. Dexterity is "to hit," plain and simple.

In Frostburn, I find that they assign the Dire Polar Bear (page 115) a +25 "to hit" with its Claw Attack and a +20 "to hit" with its Bite Attack. The Dire Polar Bear has Strength of 39 and Dexterity of 11.

In Frostburn, I find that they assign the Saber-toothed Tiger (page 118) a +10 "to hit" with its Claw Attack and a +12 "to hit" with its Bite Attack. The Saber-toothed Tiger has Strength of 24 and Dexterity of 14.

So, the animal with the worse Dexterity has a much better chance of hitting its target than the animal with the best Dexterity. This makes sense to you?

The Dire Polar Bear's bite does 3d8+7 points of damage, while the Saber-toothed Tiger's bite does 2d6+7 points of damage.

So, the animal with the worse Dexterity has a much better chance of "hitting" its target than does the animal with the better Dexterity, while at the same time, the animal with the much greater Strength does only a little more damage than the animal with the considerably lesser Strength.

Absolutely nonsensical.

No, I cannot foresee a  time when I will forgo House Rules.

The Barrow Saga

Well, RPoL games move slowly and this one is no exception. Nothing much to report, I'm sad to say. The "Gang" rested up, renewed their spells and set off into the unknown again. They traveled through the now deserted domains of the dead Tomb Spider, past two empty rooms, to discover a third empty room, with four sarcophagi and a mysterious mirror.

Leery now, they decided to back up to the mirror and throw something over it. No biggie, the mirror was nothing but trouble and of no value -- to them. Experience awarded accordingly. Then, after having ascertained which way the "bad guys" went, the self-declared "leader" bullied the others into a side jaunt and checking out another unexplored different room . . . thus walking right into the arms of a Huecuva . . .

(We're playing 3.5, so I'm using the one from the Fiend Folio)

And a Plague Walker . . .

(From 3.5's MM IV -- But I got this image out of the actual Module. Need to figure out how to make the "blank space" of this picture smaller)

The Cleric of Kord managed to Turn the Huecuva -- which now stands in a corner being pummeled by a silver axe -- but lacked the 'oomph' to Turn the Plague Walker as well, which -- in its turn -- is pummeling the Adventurers.

We'll see how it turns out.

A new Player has taken over the Whisper Gnome -- Flipplestick -- and I've allowed him to make some minor changes accordingly. Flip now has the Identify spell -- you will recall that the Group has two (2) Spell Casters, neither of which could cast Identify (go figure) -- and I granted him three Pearls, one hundred gold pieces (100gp) in value. Maybe now they'll be able to Identify at least a couple of the items they have and get themselves some much needed help.

Like their unidentified Wand of Magic Missiles.

Like I said, I'll keep you posted on developments. Meanwhile, time to post about some other things. I've "dawdled" long enough.

Deadly Paralysis

"Paralyzed: Frozen in place and unable to move or act, such as by the hold person spell. A paralyzed character has effective Dexterity and Strength scores of 0 and is helpless, but can take purely mental actions. A winged creature flying in the air at the time that it becomes paralyzed cannot flap its wings and falls. A paralyzed swimmer can’t swim and may drown. A creature can move through a space occupied by a paralyzed creature—ally or not. Each square occupied by a paralyzed creature, however, counts as 2 squares." Player's Handbook, page 311.

Yes . . . and no.

One of the games I'm currently running on RPoL is "The Lost City of Barakus." My Players are in the sewers and a Carrion Crawler damn near caused a TPK. Three of the party members were paralyzed. I played it according to the "Rules" and found it . . . bogus.

You see the "Rule" above and the portion that I highlighted. So, here's the question:

Since when did the heart and lungs cease to be muscles?

How long can you live when your heart stops beating and your lungs stop pumping oxygen through your body? Or, to make it simpler, how long before you pass out? The "Rules as Written" do not account, nor allow, for either scenario. As we all know, when your heart and lungs cease to function, both outcomes are inevitable.

Curare is known to paralyze skeletal muscles, but only in low quantities. Too much and it stops the diaphragm and heart too. The Carrion Crawler attacks with eight tentacles. Getting an "over-dose" of Carrion Crawler venom is quite easy . . . it just needs to hit you multiple times.

I don’t think I'm going to do the R.A.W. with this one anymore. In future, I think some Characters are going to pass out and some are going to die. Paralysis is far more deadly than the books allow for. Of course, I will raise the CR for the Carrion Crawler by "1" for that same reason.

Anybody know why I shouldn't do this?