[AD&D Gamebook] The Sorcerer's Crown (Kingdom of Sorcery, book 2 of 3)

Resuming our first person plural writing style rather than second person singular, we are aboard the Kandian “fishing” boat but have run afoul of the “war galley” with 20 cannons.

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189

We tell Dalris to tell the captain to tell the sailors to run for the coast because if we can make it to the forest, we still might be able to slip into Saven without anyone knowing.

Dalris relays this information in a language we don't recognize and have never heard her use before. [Language Matters!] Whatever she says lights a fire under their butts and they put on more sail. Soon the ship is "slicing through the cold sea."

We ask Dalris what she told them. She replies that she used Thieves' Cant to tell them "the marines were after them for smuggling untaxed gold out of Saven." Before we can discuss this further, a thunderous noise cuts us off and "a splintering crash jars the deck."

We've been hit! Rufyl panics because he cannot swim. We hold out our hand and feel an invisible scaly paw clutch it. [Awwwww!] "Hang on," we say, "we're only a few hundred yards from shore."

"We could swim it easily," agrees Dalris, "but look what we'd be heading for!"

She points at the coast where the shore is lined with men-at-arms including several mounted knights in the fiery crossed logs of Oram's paladin guards.

Dalris suggests we get a spell ready.

(90) to use one of the spells we already know;
(16) to use a more powerful spell from our Traveling Spellbook; or
(49) to handle the marines without using magic.
 

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Commentary:

…if we can make it to the forest, we still might be able to slip into Saven without anyone knowing.

That might work for Carr, Dalris, and Rufyl, but how would that help the poor fishermen? They'd be trapped between the forested coastline and the war galley.

Soon the ship is "slicing through the cold sea."

More evidence we live in a northern clime. (Or far southern, but as a U.S.American, north = colder, south = warmer.)

[Dalris] used Thieves' Cant to tell them "the marines were after them for smuggling untaxed gold out of Saven."

Err, what? Gold as in raw ore that was mined somewhere? This has never been mentioned before. Gold as in coinage? Why is coinage being taxed?

"Hang on," we say, "we're only a few hundred yards from shore."
"We could swim it easily," agrees Dalris….

We could "easily" swim "a few hundred yards"?! Let's be generous and say "a few" means "3". 300 yards is a LONG way to swim. Especially wearing clothing. Especially in the "cold sea." There would be nothing easy about this.

She points at the coast where the shore is lined with men-at-arms…

How could they know to line the coast at just that spot? We could've heeded the war galley's warning and allowed our ship to be boarded. (As we did on our previous path.) Or we could've turned around and headed back towards Wealwood. Or we could've tried for the open seas. Or we could've sailed away towards Seagate Island.

It makes no sense to have men-at-arms guarding some random forested coastline vaguely near Saven, unless you read ahead in the book to know what Carr and Dalris would do.

(90) to use one of the spells we already know;
(16) to use a more powerful spell from our Traveling Spellbook; or

(49) to handle the marines without using magic.

The third option is out because once again, this isn't the Kingdom of Not-Using-Sorcery trilogy.

The first option leads to similar choices we were offered on our previous paths. (Funnily enough, the fact that our ship has a cannonball hole in it will never be mentioned again.)

The second option sounds cool and surely has no downsides whatsoever.
 

We ask Dalris what she told them. She replies that she used Thieves' Cant to tell them "the marines were after them for smuggling untaxed gold out of Saven." Before we can discuss this further, a thunderous noise cuts us off and "a splintering crash jars the deck."

So basically, she frightened them by telling them they picked the wrong passengers, as we're known fugitives and not simple tourists. It was a 50% gamble as they could just have cast us overboard. At least she could have mentionned that our WIS is so low that we might put our own ship on fire if such a manoever was attempted.

…if we can make it to the forest, we still might be able to slip into Saven without anyone knowing.

That might work for Carr, Dalris, and Rufyl, but how would that help the poor fishermen? They'd be trapped between the forested coastline and the war galley.

Who cares, we didn't expect to become friend with them. "You are NPCs that have outlived their usefulness" we tell them in Common.


[Dalris] used Thieves' Cant to tell them "the marines were after them for smuggling untaxed gold out of Saven."

Err, what? Gold as in raw ore that was mined somewhere? This has never been mentioned before. Gold as in coinage? Why is coinage being taxed?

At last an evidence of Arno's evil scheme. Obviously, we are to deduce from this sentence that Arno convinced Oram to issue a new coinage, with same legal value but less gold content, by taxing the old coinage and mandating an exchange from an old, full gold coin, to a new, diminished gold coin.

That's actually the first time I see a D&D villain whose criminal operation isn't pillaging, murder, use of forbidden artifacts, but... seignorage!


"Hang on," we say, "we're only a few hundred yards from shore."
"We could swim it easily," agrees Dalris….

We could "easily" swim "a few hundred yards"?! Let's be generous and say "a few" means "3". 300 yards is a LONG way to swim. Especially wearing clothing.

I am pretty sure Carr wouldn't mind if Dalris followed this logical thought to its conclusion.


Especially in the "cold sea." There would be nothing easy about this.

She points at the coast where the shore is lined with men-at-arms…

That's a lot of paladins suddenly, if they can line the shoreline days and night just in case someone entered (or left) by boat. A low end calculation of the coastline of Australia is 25,760 kilometers (can change depending on how close you're following the coastline). With a paladin every 50 meters, a generous estimate for dotting the coastine would need a workforce of 500,000 standing paladins. If they take shift of 8 hours and have some holidays, we're talking about 2 millions paladins just standing along the coast. You might think that no organized government would do that, and then you can look at the TSA.

The third option is out because once again, this isn't the Kingdom of Not-Using-Sorcery trilogy.

I'll be interested to know down the line what happens if we eschew magic totally. Actually, I am looking for a win-path that requires no magic, which is a possible outcome of book one.

The first option leads to similar choices we were offered on our previous paths. (Funnily enough, the fact that our ship has a cannonball hole in it will never be mentioned again.)

The second option sounds cool and surely has no downsides whatsoever.

Except that we will lose one of our few spells!
 
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So basically, she frightened them by telling them they picked the wrong passengers, as we're known fugitives and not simple tourists. It was a 50% gamble as they could just have cast us overboard.

These are Dalris’s kinsmen (or at least some of them are) so that may be why they don’t scuttle us.

Arno convinced Oram to issue a new coinage, with same legal value but less gold content, by taxing the old coinage and mandating an exchange from an old, full gold coin, to a new, diminished gold coin.

That's actually the first time I see a D&D villain whose criminal operation isn't pillaging, murder, use of forbidden artifacts, but... seignorage!

They have weaponized Gresham’s Law! I haven’t been this excited about monetary policy since the crawl at the beginning of The Phantom Menace.


That's a lot of paladins suddenly, if they can line the shoreline

Accccctttttually, it is only “some” paladins and a bunch of men-at-arms.

I am looking for a win-path that requires no magic, which is a possible outcome of book one.

It’s probably possible to complete this book without magic if you roll suspiciously well on every required ability check. Which is pretty lame given the series title.

Except that we will lose one of our few spells!

You say “lose”, I say “expend for maximum fun”.
 

You say “lose”, I say “expend for maximum fun”.

I am like that. In CRPGs, I often end the game with an inventory still featuruing the starting Cure Light Wound potions that I saved for "when I'll /really/ need it".


Though the idea of casting COP to have a few words with Pazuzu and offers him to replace Arno as a more competent representative, given our track record of humiliating him, would be tempting. Actually, we don't even need to cast a spell since we only have to chant PAZUZU ! PAZUZU ! PAZUZU ! for this to happen.
 

16

We are so scared by the sight of the approaching war galley brimming with armed marines that we can’t concentrate on our regular spells. We fumble in our cloak for the Travelling Spellbook.

We need something beyond simple magic, and we decide that only Polymorph Other will do here. We could transform Rufyl into a sea monster to smash the enemy ship or into a “huge winged monster” to fly us to shore!

Rufyl overhears… err, overthinks?… these ideas and doesn’t like either one. He can’t swim and he’s afraid of heights. Plus, the last time Landor transformed him into something, he was stuck as a Rust Monster for three weeks.

(20) to transform Rufyl into a sea monster to attack the war galley, or
(3) to transform him into a flying creature to carry us to safety.
 

Commentary:

We are so scared by the sight of the approaching war galley brimming with armed marines that we can’t concentrate on our regular spells. We fumble in our cloak for the Travelling Spellbook.

Man do I hate when genre fiction turns what should be something cool and fun into an example of the main character’s idiocy and incompetence. Not that OUR Carr Delling has ever displayed actual intelligence or foresight, but this kind of approach robs the gamebook reader-player of any sense of accomplishment. We’re about to bust out one of the spells that Landor invented in this world. At least let us do so intentionally and with excitement, rather than because we’re scared and bumbling.

We could transform Rufyl into a sea monster to smash the enemy ship or into a “huge winged monster” to fly us to shore!

Why are our only options to make Rufyl a monster? Why can’t we make him a nice friendly sea creature or a nice friendly flying creature?

The last time Landor transformed Rufyl into something, he was stuck as a Rust Monster for three weeks.

Polymorph Other has a duration of Permanent until “the magic-user” uses Dispel Magic to return the polymorphed creature to its original form. Apparently 20-some years ago when Landor changed Rufyl into a Rust Monster (for what purpose we are not told), the archmage just… left his loyal familiar like that for THREE WEEKS.

Jerkishness is a core personality trait of the Delling family.
 

Which is the better choice to transform into a sea monster to smash the enemy ship to pieces?

1. A cowardly pseudodragon with a fear of water
2. A bloodthirsty bard who delights in killing people (but not animals, never harm animals, or else...)

Dalris is obviously a much better target for the spell.

Also I concur that heroism is better than fumbling around when you're the hero. Cugel's fumbling is fun but you aren't supposed to identify with him. In gamebooks, it's the premise.

Jerkishness is a core personality trait of the Delling family.

We're in 849, aren't we? Maybe Landor's distant offsprings will be active around Crescentium just before 1,000...

In Landor's defence, I'll say that Rufyl has the power to turn invisible. If he kept this trait when polymorphed (as in 3.5 one kept mental stats and abilities), and as we know Rufyl isn't naturally forthcoming with information, he might just have forgotten until at some point Rufyl found it useful to say that no, he can't fly over the table, since he's stuck in the form of a Rust Monster.

Also, an invisible Rust Monster sounds extremely fun for an old-school DM to have in a dungeon, preying over sleeping PCs.
 
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[If you are like 13-year-old Joshua, fixated on the fact that a Marid is a being associated with water, it makes more sense to transform Rufyl into a sea monster than into a flying creature. Also, perhaps the Marid will be grateful that we cleanse his presumed waters of the 20-cannon gunship.]

20

We’re super excited to use this powerful magic despite Rufyl’s protests. We ask Dalris to name “the most invulnerable and feared creature of these waters” and she comes up with a Dragon Turtle.

We explain our plan to transform Rufyl into this creature; its hard shell will prevent him from being hurt.

She stares back at us with her “olive eyes” [first time their color is mentioned] and proclaims us insane with powers beyond our control. “Don’t you know that a Polymorph Other spell can destroy its subject if you’re not absolutely sure what you’re doing? Are you willing to subject Rufyl to that kind of danger?”

We protest that Rufyl has been polymorphed before, by our father —

“Landor was ten times the sorcerer you are!”

Ouch.

We tell Dalris to stand aside and, heart racing with a mixture of fear and excitement, we pull out our Traveling Spellbook and read the Polymorph Other spell as though it were a scroll. Which, as the gamebook helpfully reminds us, alleviates the need for the spell’s material component (a caterpillar cocoon).

INT test, and this time it’s a hard one.
(78) if 25 or more.
(109) if less.
 
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Commentary:

“Don’t you know that a Polymorph Other spell can destroy its subject if you’re not absolutely sure what you’re doing?”


Technically the magic-user’s capabilities have nothing to do with whether the subject of Polymorph Other is “destroyed”. The subject must make a System Shock roll to survive the spell at all, which is based on the subject’s Constitution and has nothing to do with the magic-user’s prowess. (Arguably the magic-user should know this going in and not choose subjects with low CON.)

And no matter what, the subject is not literally destroyed, although it could die. But as we know from D&D, death is merely a speed bump most of the time.

…“a Polymorph Other spell can destroy its subject if you’re not absolutely sure what you’re doing? Are you willing to subject Rufyl to that kind of danger?”

The use of the word ‘subject’ in its noun form immediately followed by the word ‘subject’ in its verb form is surprisingly awkward writing from Morris Simon.
 

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