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

[Joshua Randall]

70

We face the hungry roc, raise our hands, and shout the spellword “Vyehdo!” A yellowish-green aura surrounds Rufyl the Roc. “It hardens into a transparent film at first, then into an opaque envelope that bulges with the roc’s struggling figure.”

The outer surface hardens even more, turns dark, and shrinks until it resembles a four-foot-high wrinkled amorphous sun-dried peapod. We watch as a hairline fracture appears, following the contours of the wrinkles. Suddenly the peapod cracks and falls away to reveal Rufyl curled on the ground. He blinks open his eyes and we “sigh happily.” [Awwwww!]

Rufyl doesn’t remember anything, which is just as well. We inform him that we are in Yellow Marsh with nightfall only a few hours away. Rufyl warns that the monsters mostly come at night. Mostly.

[OK, fine: he doesn’t quote Aliens. Here’s what Rufyl actually says.]

Rufyl warns that We don’t want to be in the swamp after dark. Some of the deadliest predators in Tikandia prowl at night. Landor himself said so.

Turn to (157).

---

Commentary:

Rufyl warns that We don’t want to be in the swamp after dark. Some of the deadliest predators in Tikandia prowl at night. Landor himself said so.

Rufyl and Landor journeyed to the Yellow Marsh in the past. Now would be a good time for our loyal, helpful, magical assistant to tell us why they were here and what happened.

Pfft, who am I kidding?

 

[Jfdlsjfd]

Back to the mysterious lush and barren area.

1. The roc "instinctively" puts his talons up, so he lands on his stomach, not on its two legs, designed for landing. He'is instinctively WIS 3, like most of the living being in this book.

2. We're back, with a few spell less, to the area where we'd be if we had just walked.

3. If there are myriad of dead trees, there must be myriads of LIVE trees, unless they all died recently for some reason.

 

[Joshua Randall]

The roc "instinctively" puts his talons up, so he lands on his stomach, not on its two legs, designed for landing.

Haha! I suspect that weird landing method is brought to you by Morris Simon’s realization that Carr and Dalris were going to get smushed otherwise.

We're back, with a few spell less, to the area where we'd be if we had just walked.

Yes, but think how much more exciting it was to take this roundabout path!

Also: if any readers guessed that Yellow Marsh would be the key to the One True Path waaaaay back when it was first mentioned and Rufyl told us how it’s scary and dangerous, give yourselves a pat on the back. Because much like Br’er Rabbit, any gamebook passage that we are steered away from is actually where we want to go.

 

[Joshua Randall]

157

A swamp that’s considered dangerous by our archmage dad must therefore be the safest route into Saven. So saying, we “head into the forest.”

Even the ancient oaks on the western boundary of Wealwood seem to recognize the ominous quality of the adjacent marsh, which is shrouded in yellow clouds of stinking sulfuric fog. Their giant boughs on the marsh side are all stunted and barren, as if a curse has been laid upon all life.

Rufyl mentally comments that he told us this was an evil place. We reply that the branches were killed by sulfur, not by some abstract evil. Dalris chimes in that the dead trees are a good sign because it means there’s not enough vegetation to feed any purported giant monsters.

Or “it could also mean that only meat-eaters can survive there,” we mutter. Dalris raises her eyebrows “as she steps into the fog of the most forbidden region of druidic folklore.”

We think to ourselves that despite how confident Dalris sounded, her hand was on the hilt of her sword. Rufyl mentally replies that “perhaps” her caution is wise, and we ruminate on how egocentric psuedodragons can be: “Any time a human within his telepathic range of several dozen feet thinks something, Rufyl automatically believes it’s a communication meant for his mind alone.”

”No, Master,” Rufyl’s thought corrects [us]. “I was trying to warn you of the dangers I sense right now!”

Dalris also receives this warning and stops in her tracks. We all stare into the “bleak, grassless fen”, straining to hear anything, but all is quiet.

Rufyl thinks that somewhere up ahead is a “great intelligence” that already knows about us and is planning to stop us. The psuedodragon thinks it would be wise to prepare for an attack or better yet, to leave.

Dalris tightens her grip on her sword and whispers that we should get a spell ready because she saw “something big” moving in the swirling fog.

We hope the spells we’ve prepared will be powerful enough but in case they’re not, we “feel for the reassuring bulge” [oh dear] “of the traveling spellbook.”

(27) to use a spell we’ve memorized,
(61) to use a greater spell from the traveling spellbook, or
(96) “if you decide there’s no real point in wasting a spell”.

 

[Joshua Randall]

Commentary:

A swamp that’s considered dangerous by our archmage dad must therefore be the safest route into Saven.

This type of nonsensical statement is frequently trotted out in genre fiction: that the super dangerous route is also the safest. No. That is logically contradictory. The super dangerous route may be the most unexpected, but it cannot be the safest.

Even the ancient oaks on the western boundary of Wealwood seem to recognize the ominous quality of the adjacent marsh…
Dalris raises her eyebrows “as she steps into the fog of the most forbidden region of druidic folklore.”

A region that is forbidden by druidic folklore yet borders the woods where the druids live would be CONSTANTLY ventured into by foolishly brave children trying to prove their mettle to each other. Even if the taboo held for the druids themselves, it wouldn’t apply to the refugees who also inhabit Wealwood. Especially given that by definition, refugees have nothing to lose. (Except their lives, but when has that stopped people from taking foolish risks?)

…the adjacent marsh, which is shrouded in yellow clouds of stinking sulfuric fog.

Sulfur thick enough to form a fog would be extremely bad for any air-breathing creatures that entered it. People have died from the sulfuric fumes around volcanoes, which are present in much lesser quantities than enough to form a visible fog!

(Also, this numbered section is the same one we turn to if we take the route to Yellow Marsh directly from Wealwood, pre-boat-trip. Which is why this section assumes we just entered the marsh from the forest, rather than flew deeper into the marsh being carried by a roc.)

Dalris chimes in that the dead trees are a good sign because it means there’s not enough vegetation to feed any purported giant monsters.
Or “it could also mean that only meat-eaters can survive there”…

None of whom breathe air, apparently.

That aside: I’m not sure a region with so little edible vegetation could support enough herbivores to in turn support “meat-eaters”.

…we ruminate on how egocentric psuedodragons can be: “Any time a human within his telepathic range of several dozen feet thinks something…”

First: total lack of self-awareness that Carr would ascribe egocentrism to ANYONE else.

Second: we finally get a range for Rufyl’s telepathy: “several dozen feet”. Of course the word “several” is vague, but if “2” is “a couple” and “3” is “a few”, then “several” has to be 4 or more. Which means that Rufyl can sense thoughts in a sphere with radius (at least) 48 feet, or a volume of over 463,000 cubic feet.

Put another way: the stereotypical average home in the United States has a square footage of 2200 across two stories, so 1100 square feet per floor. Say it’s 24 feet (and change) on the short side and 45 feet on the long side (generally the street-facing side is the long side).

This means that from the center of the house, Rufyl can sense the thoughts of:

• everyone inside the house (on both floors)
• across the driveways separating the house from its neighbors on either side
• into both neighboring houses and about to the middle of their houses

If we think back to when we were trapped in the tower, Rufyl’s telepathic range couldn’t quite reach the top of the tower (50 feet), but he could easily sense our thoughts and communicate with us as soon as we descended one flight of stairs.

(27) to use a spell we’ve memorized,
(61) to use a greater spell from the traveling spellbook, or
(96) “if you decide there’s no real point in wasting a spell”.

Our two remaining greater spells are Contact Other Plane, for information gathering, and Enchant an Item, for doing just what it says on the tin. Neither seems useful here, but for amusement value (and so I don't forget to do it later) I will explore what happens when we use them.

Also pay attention to the wording of that third option and imagine the size-L thumb on the scale.

 

[Jfdlsjfd]

Given these capabilities, having invisible Rufyl stand inside the secret passage within Saven's cathedral and listening to the surface thoughts of Arno for a few days would certainly yield invaluable information. Heck, he could have just communicated it to us in real time while we're sitting in the safety of our own inn room.

It would also guarantee evasion from patrolling guards, even the dreaded gnolls, as we surmised at the time.

It also means that the elven crypt is probably less than 50 ft from Landor's study, since he could telepathically speak with the Crypt Thing from there. The highly dissimulated crypt is probably adjacent to the academy's cellar.

Which in turns means that if he standing on the ground floor, and we're standing on the ground floor in front of the impassable fire-trapped door, he could just relay our thoughts and ask the Crypt Thing to teleport us away.

He could also have usefully pointed out that Garrrrn was really a good guy from his surface thoughts during his interaction with us, even if it was not needed since we decided to cast our lot with him without any suspicion due to our WIS 3.

 

[Joshua Randall]

Given these capabilities, having invisible Rufyl stand inside the secret passage within Saven's cathedral and listening to the surface thoughts of Arno for a few days would certainly yield invaluable information.

Right?! The possibilities are endless.

Honestly an apparently perfectly invisible (despite the by-the-book 80% concealed) telepathic creature is such a perfect spy that it renders all information gathering trivial. Which is one reason why Rufyl never does any of this — precisely because it would wreck any possible plot.

It also means that the elven crypt is probably less than 50 ft from Landor's study, since he could telepathically speak with the Crypt Thing from there.

Heh — I hadn’t thought of that. We may have to extend Rufyl’s range to more like 60’ to 72’ (5 to 6 dozen — still plausibly “several”) to make it more likely that Rufyl’s telepathy can reach an underground crypt from Landor’s study. But yeah. The suuuuuper secret crypt of Aaaaancient Bhukod is likely no farther away that your average building’s sub-basement.

Which in turns means that if he standing on the ground floor, and we're standing on the ground floor in front of the impassable fire-trapped door, he could just relay our thoughts and ask the Crypt Thing to teleport us away.

An excellent suggestion! It’s only been five years, not the couple of centuries that the Crypt Thing stated would be the next time it was bored, but — come on! Surely the concept of rescuing the son of Landor from his own idiocy would be highly entertaining.

He could also have usefully pointed out that Garrrrn was really a good guy from his surface thoughts

At least Rufyl is consistently unable to determine someone’s goodness or evilness: he can only sense that Garn is a paladin curious about our magic items and he can only sense “a great intelligence” up ahead, not its inherent nature.

 

[Joshua Randall]

[Alternate timeline in which we use one of the spells from the traveling spellbook.]

61

You’re not entirely sure of the effects of the four [sic] spells in your traveling spellbook.

We “fumble” inside our cloak and pull out our most precious possession: our spellbook. [What did YOU think Carr was going to pull out from inside his cloak?]

Dalris wants to know what we’re doing. After we explain that we need powerful magic to combat whatever Rufyl senses up ahead, she becomes exasperated and says she’s not waiting for us to mess around. We convince her to take Rufyl with her for protection. Dalris heads deeper into the swamp with “a look of contempt” on her face.

(167) If we have a manticore’s tail quill, we may use Enchant an Item.
(136) We could instead use Contact Other Plane.
(150) Or we could use Polymorph Other on the unseen monster…
(120) … or on one of our companions.

---

Commentary:

You’re not entirely sure of the effects of the four [sic] spells in your traveling spellbook.

The mistaken word ‘four’ here has haunted me for as many decades. What was the fourth spell in the traveling spellbook supposed to be???

… we could use Polymorph Other on the unseen monster…

The book will allow us to use Polymorph Other in its save-or-die capacity HERE, but not when we confront Arno. Damn that villain plot armor!

If we have a manticore’s tail quill, we may use Enchant an Item.

At last we get to fire the Chekhov’s Gun that was loaded at the very beginning of the gamebook.

 

[Joshua Randall]

[Alternate timeline in which we use Enchant an Item from our traveling spellbook.]

167

We remember the manticore “quill” we gathered and decide that now is our chance to use Enchant an Item on our already poisoned darts. We remove the “stiff spike” from “the top pocket of our jerkin” and open our traveling spellbook to the parchment leaf “containing the spell [we’ve] been studying more than any other for the past month.”

We “begin” to translate our father’s Wizard’s Scrawl using our permanent Read Magic. “At the instant each word is read, it vanishes from the magical parchment as if it were a scroll spell.”

The sorcerer must have fashioned the intended object from as fine ingredients as are available. His work must continue without interruption for at least forty-eight hours until the….

Forty-eight hours! We don’t have forty-eight minutes! We smack ourselves in the forehead as we realize we’ve wasted one of our father’s most precious spells “by destroying its first two lines.”

An anguished cry from Dalris rips through our dismay. We hear a scuffle in the fen up ahead and run blindly into the noxious fog. We catch a glimpse of Dalris being lifted into the air by a giant humanoid hand!

(170) to attack the hand with our poisoned darts, or
(188) to save our darts and instead use our enchanted quarterstaff.

 

[Joshua Randall]

Commentary:

We remove the “stiff spike” from “the top pocket of our jerkin”...

Thanks to WIS 3, we are foolish enough to store a very ouchy manticore quill-spike in our jerkin rather than in our belt pouch or in one of our extradimensional Deeppockets.

…open our traveling spellbook to the parchment leaf “containing the spell [we’ve] been studying more than any other for the past month.”
We “begin” to translate our father’s Wizard’s Scrawl…

One cannot "begin" to translate something right now if one has "been studying" it for the past month. (Unless one has merely been gazing blankly at the squiggly lines on the page and wondering what they are, which I suppose is possible for OUR Carr Delling.)

If "studying" means that same thing in gamebook land as it does in normal land, how the HECK could we not know that Enchant an Item takes multiple days to cast?! Especially given that's the second sentence of the spell?!

“At the instant each word is read, it vanishes from the magical parchment as if it were a scroll spell.”

Let's see what the AD&D rules have to say about Read Magic, spellbooks, and scrolls.

PH p. 68, the Read Magic spell explanation

By means of a read magic spell, the magic-user is able to read magical inscriptions on objects — books, scrolls, weapons and the like — which would otherwise be totally unintelligible to him or her. (The personal books of the magic-user, and works already magically read, are intelligible.) This deciphering does not normally invoke the magic contained in the writing, although it may do so in the case of a curse scroll. Furthermore, once the spell is cast and the magic-user has read the magical inscription, he or she is thereafter able to read that particular writing without recourse to the use of the read magic spell.

Three key points:

1. You can read your own personal spellbooks without Read Magic.
2. You can re-read "works already magically read" without Read Magic. This is mentioned twice.
3. Read Magic doesn't "normally" invoke the magic in the writing, unless it's cursed or similar (Explosive Runes being a fan favorite).

The traveling spellbook consists of three of Landor's most powerful spells that we haven't scribed into our own spellbook yet, likely because, in game terms, they are above the level we can cast. But that doesn't matter because after we use Read Magic the very first time to look at Landor's spells, we can always thereafter understand them without recourse to Read Magic. It doubly doesn't matter because we have a permanent Read Magic cast upon ourself!

Thus we can always re-read Landor's spells, even the ones in the traveling spellbook, any time we want, with no danger of accidentally casting them. We could have and should have read the entire Enchant an Item spell way before this adventure so we'd know how it works.

PH p. 100, Scroll Spells

Use of scroll spells is similar to the casting of normal (memorized) spells. They too disappear when read off the scroll, for their magical properties and energies are bound up in the characters, runes, signs, sigils, and words written for the particular spell.

There is one confusing word here, and that is the "too" in the second sentence, because by definition memorized spells are not being "read", so the words of a memorized spell cannot "disappear when read". That aside, this paragraph establishes the rule that scrolls do indeed get used up when read.

However….

DMG p. 127, Scrolls (in the Treasure chapter)

Each scroll is written in its own magical cypher, so to understand what sort of scroll has been found the ability to read magic must be available. Once a scroll is read to determine its contents, a read magic will not be needed at a subsequent time to invoke the magic. [...] Reading a scroll to find its contents does not invoke its magic unless it is a specially triggered curse.

In case there was any doubt about the Read Magic explanation in the PH, the DMG reiterates that reading a scroll to determine "its contents" does not cast the spell.

Now, that does leave open to interpretation what the phrase "its contents" may mean. I could definitely see a harsh adversarial DM interpret this to mean that the player finds out the name of the spell and nothing else. That doesn’t entirely make sense given that after you use Read Magic on the scroll for “its contents”, you can thereafter “invoke the magic” without Read Magic.

But even if the DM told you only the scroll-spell’s title, this would be a meaningless restriction because any player worth his salt would immediately consult the PH for the details of the spell.

Overall: By the rules as written and practiced, the player of Carr Delling would already know the title of his "scroll" (the traveling spellbook page) and would have read about it in the PH. He thus would most certainly know that Enchant an Item has a casting time of (by the book) "base 16 hours plus an additional 8-64 hours"; would know that the magic-user must remain in physical contact with the item being enchanted during the day and no more than 1 foot distant while resting; and would also know that any spell cast into the item also requires the Permanency spell to fix it in place. Altogether, a sensibly played magic-user would never sit down in a sulfurous swamp to start casting Enchant an Item.

As always, though, we're in gamebook land where the rules as written hold no sway. And where OUR Carr Delling is a complete nincompoop with the foresight of a gnat.