Dragora's Dungeon, Session 5

It's our fifth session of the Dragora's Dungeon arc, based on the published adventure from Goodman Games. Zach took pictures, thanks!

In late 2009, we played game 5 of our modified Dragora’s Dungeon story arc, based on the Master Dungeon module of the same name by Goodman Games. I’ve modified the module to work for 9th-level characters, but the intellectual property is certainly theirs.

We opened the session in mid-fight. Last week, the party had stumbled onto a patrol of the strange four-armed Tharkans, and we had to end the game after the second round of combat. As we opened up, Motuhl the Barbarian had just fallen, and everyone else was determined to end the fight. In attendance we had Andrew playing Erik the cleric, Marcus playing Mendas the rogue, Marc playing Varin the warlock, Rebecca playing Oddny the paladin, and Zach playing Bartix the wizard.

We had started the combat two weeks ago with Anthony playing Hermiad the Ranger and Matt playing Motuhl the barbarian. Motuhl, of course, was at 0 hit points, so I had him quietly stabilize and ignored for the rest of the combat. But it left the problem of Hermiad, and also the problem of the combat being balanced to more heroes than were currently available. I offered the players a choice: they could accept simplified, “monster” versions of all of their unavailable allies: Hermiad, Edgar the Fighter, and Rurik the Warlord. These statblock heroes had less powers and less complexity but generally had the same stopping power as the full characters. The tradeoff would be more mouths to split XP amongst. The players decided to tough it out and let five heroes do the work of seven! I had the ranger shuffle off the stage, and the five charged back into the fray.

And they weren’t quite up to the task. The fight was brutal, with a few players knocked unconscious and brought back up again. The Tharkans revealed through battle cries that they were from House Vendrius (whatever that meant), and that they thought they were defending their homes.

The tide turned to favor the Vikings, but the wide-open battlefield left the enemies lots of options. Three of the tharkans turned to flee off the map. Mendas tried his switcharoo to keep one of the Infiltrators from escaping, but one square didn’t make much difference. Another infiltrator scaled a hill and made for another table edge. He was looking weak, and Bartix threw a lot of effort into trying to stop him, Dimension-Dooring his way across the map and trying to Thunderwave the creature off the hill. The attack missed, though, and the four-armed reptile man got away.

So the word was being spread and the surprise might have been lost, but everyone in the party was alive. The Vikings slunk off the streets and into the ruins to rest up. Mendas climbed a building to take a survey of the area.

Before them stretched a ruined city, dotted with cooking fires. The tower they had arbitrarily decided to reach lay ahead of them, and the easiest path was to work down the river. Ahead of them was a curious open line in the debris, some kind of cleared no-man’s land between two zones.

The Vikings gathered themselves and found a place to sleep for the night. They picked cautiously through the streets and found a protected building shell. In the bottom floor was a curious altar containing a small clay fertility idol, shaped more like a human than a tharkan. But the main focus was sacking out. Bartix used his Silence ritual, and everyone else got some sleep.

After six hours, the adventurers got up in the dark. The city was still semi-lit from the fires, but they noted how the sunstone in the cavern ceiling was completely out. If they had seen it during day before, things were really dim in this cavern. Takign this as “cover of darkness,” the Vikings got moving and made their way unmolested to the cleared zone. On the ground, they noticed that the zone followed old city streets, but had been meticulously cleared, unlike the rest of the city. On their side of the zone, they saw a crude glyph painted on a building, depicturing two crossed axes. Across the zone was a similar glyph, showing what Varin and Bartix knew as a basic arcane symbol. Perhaps, the players reasoned, they were in the control of a martial house (this House Vendrius?), and the next zone was that of an arcane house?

They cautiously crossed over, Mendas in the lead. Immediately the hair on the necks of the arcane characters pricked up… they were being scryed. With no options, they pressed forward.

The terrain in the new zone was very similar to the old, but within 15 minutes Mendas saw a four-armed figure standing in the street. The party realized that they were quickly being surrounded, and hunkered down. Then a voice called out, “We come in peace. We are House Zamosh, and we have no conflict with you. We invite you to an audience with our house leaders.”

The players agreed, and walked out into the streets. Some four tharkans met them, with several others and their pet drakes joining the party. The whole group made their way down the river towards the Wizard’s Tower.

We left off there, to pick up in two weeks!

Dragora's Dungeon, Session 4

For this game session, Zach provides the pictures and Rebecca provides the writeup! Thanks, everyone!

Our heroes awake in the same cavernous swamp, surrounded by bits of yesterday’s dead foes. After some initial scouting and tree climbing, Mendas spies a land mass perhaps four furlongs distant and, on it, an ancient and crumbling aqueduct.

Just as the adventurers approach, a horrible scream rends the air. A huge fist erupts from the very muck beneath their feet! The fist is followed by a head (screaming) and then a torso. The warriors draw weapons and prepare to do battle yet again, but the figure that emerges from the swamp is not a monster – just a very filthy half-orc. When challenged, this muddy stranger identifies himself as Motull, a fellow devotee of Thor and the last survivor of an adventuring party much like this one. Being familiar with Viking adventuring parties, no one trusts him. Nonetheless, in an uncharacteristically tender gesture, Bartix uses Mage Hand to gently clean the mud from Motull’s face. Hermiad throws up a little.

Thunder thunder thunder thunder CATS

Motull climbs the aqueduct; for lack of better leadership – Rurik is strangely quiet – the party follows. The aqueduct quickly becomes a maze of dank tunnels, sometimes so filled with water that the warriors must swim. Oddny starts to rust. Eventually, Mendas observes that the floor is littered with live vipers. Why did it have to be snakes?

Gingerly stepping around the vipers, the party arrives at an altar covered with ancient gore; lying atop the alter are a white cloth and a crystal shard. As Bartix reaches for these treasures, three enormous shadow cobras appear behind the altar, hoods flared. Rather than attack these representatives of his favorite order, Bartix attempts to negotiate with the cobras for the obviously valuable items on the altar. Erik, however, feels that doing business with serpents is irreligious and will anger Thor. The theological argument becomes somewhat heated, prompting Thor to clarify that “Snakes don’t deserve nice things.” A brisk negotiation ensues, with Bartix offering various material components and his own blood, and the snakes hissing their counteroffers. Eventually, Bartix secures the Healing Sash and Dark Crystal Lighting Shard for the party.

The adventurers move on, arriving in a large cavern high above a ruined city. Reconnaissance efforts reveal that (1) the city is sparsely populated, and (2) the cavern is in fact the mouth of a carved dragon, part of an colossal Tiamat statute from which waterfalls must once have thundered down into the city below.

As the party peers down the 400-foot drop, a little dragonette steals Motull’s berserker pendant and teleports, with it, around the cavern. A scuffle ensures: Bartix eventually snatches the pendant back with his Mage Hand, but not before the noise forces the party to retreat deeper into the cavern. While there, the party tries to decide whether and how to descend from the dragon mouth into the city below.

Eventually, everyone slides down a series of ropes, with Hermiad assisting his less nimble companions. The strain of the day begins to manifest at this point, as various noble warriors land hard on their knees, coccyx, and/or head.

Thus bruised, the party proceeds to sneak around the outskirts of the city toward what appears to be a temple. They successfully avoid detection by one patrol of guards but, as they get deeper into the city, stealth fails them. Erik, Varin, and Oddny, particularly, seem to be knocking over trash cans with every step. It’s only a matter of time before guards appear on the scene.

Sure enough, seven or eight blue, four-armed, be-feathered guards rush the party. The adventurers step forward bravely to meet this new assault. Bartix drops Odin’s Ball on the bunched guards, to good effect. Mendes creeps up, knives out. Motull charges into the pack, axe flying. Hermiad gives the guards some less comfortable feathers to wear. Eric wields his mace with religious fervor. Varin shouts “I am ooze incarnate,” and he is correct. Oddny swings vigorously, if ineffectually.

Post Odin-ball, Motull's initial charge as seen from the plateau (blurry)
Guy on the plateau having seen this, freaking out and running toward edge to get a better look at attackers
Initial positions on map of people in first round of combat, after Motull's charge but prior to the feathered guys acting
Mendas being creepy, prepping to hit the psychic guy
A better angle on Motull post-charge
A crappy angle on Motull post-charge
View of Motull post-charge from the rest of the party
The feather guys attack
Motull surrounded, Oddny moving up to assist
Psychic guy pulling out his brains because Mendas just knocked him out
Guy attacking Bartix, who is unamused
Feathered guys surround Motull and the core of the party together but dazed.
The core of the party would love to whomp on the unconscious psychic guy by Mendas but his two buddies are blocking Hermiad's sight
Feathered guys getting gang-pounded by Motull.
Motull getting pounded back, to the point of near dying. Varin quickly rushed up to guard his body and turned into a massive ooze...
...successfully sliming the enemies and knocking them back.
Mendas moved up to do something cool and attack the bunched enemies. I forget if it worked, it was late.









It is a valorous effort, but these foes have twice as many hands as the adventurers, and a psychic warrior to boot. The Vikings are pushed back, dazed and damaged. Motul is surrounded by seven guards and cut down, seeming to leave the party as precipitously as he joined it …

Will our heroes survive this battle? Find out next time!

Dragora's Dungeon, Session 3

This synopsis comes courtesy of Matt, with pictures by Martin! Thanks, guys!

Gathering their wits after the infamous spider trap (see last episode) the truculent Viking party bravely stormed the teleportation circle (and only way out of the room). With dreams of cake dancing inside their horned helms the party proceeded through the teleportation circle and found themselves in a fetid grotto several hundreds of feet high, wide and long lit by a mysterious, nay, eldritch light. After some exploration it was discovered there were islands with trees in the morass and that the swamp produced fiery bubbles preceded by a soft popping sound. Most of the stalwart adventurers were able to avoid this trap, save Rurik who, upon being gently burnt, was reminded of his fiery abode of yore.








"The swamp is mucky, but tractable, and the bubbles are easily avoided by their preceding popping sound," quipped Mendas, "but there is one more threat to this swamp: the Giant Claw Prawns Of Unusual Size."

"The G.C.P.O.U.S.'s," replied Oddny raising her armored visor so Mendas could see her shaking her head, "I don't think they exist."

JUST THEN the party was beset upon by three Giant Claw Prawns Of Unusual Size who proceeded to bloody half the party who was un-tactically spread out and unprepared to defend themselves. Behind the whirling wall of chitinous claws were shambling swamp things and a brace of Mycon. A trio of Rock Boas dropped from the trees and spat acid that burned in a most unpleasant manner. "Retreat!" shouted Rurik, "so we may come back and kill them all in good time!"
























The party, thus routed, made haste to the teleport while Hemiad covered their flight with a cloud of pointy arrows (killing one G.C.P.O.U.S. in the process). With assistance from Edgar fighter-cum-pusher-bot all of the noble adventurers made it out safely.

GOOD THING WE KILLED ALL THE GIANT SPIDERS OR WE'D BE FUCKED. Ahem.

After ascertaining that pursuit was not imminent, the party rested and compiled the natural and arcane data of the encountered monsters. It was decided that such a menagerie of flora and fauna would never cooperate in the real world. Surely there is a manipulating intelligence behind it all! A plan was concocted - the party would storm the gate and seize one of the islands. Thus sheltered from the difficult muck the merry band could fight and move as a group.








The plan was executed and an island held. Things moved beneath the weird fluid of the swamp. The aforementioned eldritch light addressed the group in a booming voice, "WHY ARE YOU HERE?"

"We seek those who attacked our people," replied Rurik.

"THEN YOU SEEK VENGEANCE. YOU WILL FIND IT HERE."

After being satisfied that the disembodied voice was going to grant the party that which is most desired (and exchanging congratulatory fist bumps and high-fives) the party was rapidly beset by a brace of G.C.P.O.U.S.'s and a trio of snakes that emerged from the swamp. Rurick was gappled and made useless by a snake while the rest of the party unleashed awesome hell. Blood and ichor (which is what G.C.P.O.U.S.'s are filled with) flowed with abandon while Oddny smashed, Hermaid poked, Ed cut (and sparkled with lightning), Mendas applied a liberal coating of stabbing and the Warlock cursed quite a bit. Erik summoned a big weapon that went snicker snack. While the green horde was cut to pieces the party was assailed by three vegetable horrors and the poop eating Mycon.

Summoning the might of Odin (which sounded remarkably like a lot of pissing and moaning) Rurik was freed and killed a Swamp Thing (tm) all by himself. The remaining prawn and shamblers were dispatched. Hermaid shot the Mycon at range while Edgar ran around getting burned and then tackled by the halfling.


















And we won! Next week, exploring the swamp!