shilsen
Adventurer
I've just got back into DM-ing after a year's hiatus and have been writing up the session events (just 2 so far) in story format. The party is currently involved in a quest for an artifact called the Crown of the Gods. Last session, the players had a serious falling-out with their employer Marius, a high priest of Pholtus (it's a modified Greyhawk campaign), who turned out to be quite a villain and have some seriously double-plus-ungood plans for the Crown.
When writing up the story, I decided to add a scene showing some of Marius' thoughts and motivations. When I was sending the session story to the players, I first thought of removing this section, since they would not have seen it. But then I decided to keep it in there and simply mention to them that they need to remember this is player info and not character. Do you (esp. those of you writing story hours and such) ever do anything like that? And if so, what's the result of doing so?
In my case, all the players told me was along the lines of, "Nice. We're still going to kill him anyway." Bums
By the way, here's the scene:
***
Hours later...
...Marius sits in his room, staring with unseeing eyes at the sunburst painted on the wall in front of him. Memories play across his mind. Thoughts of an idyllic childhood tending his father's sheep, his acolyteship in the church, the incredible sensation of the first spells that Pholtus granted him, the awe and the mystery of hearing his god speak to him.
He thinks of his battles for the One True Faith, of the lives he saved in Sterich (and Phyllis among them) and the comrades he lost. He remembers dragging out his son's broken body from beneath the corpse of a giant he slew with his own hands, and finding his daughter's corpse pinned to a wall by an ogre's spear. Above all, he remembers the eyes of the dying, always questioning, always accusing, asking why he could not save them.
Passing down the years, his memory dwells upon the day that Sterich was "officially" freed, and he recalls the emptiness of that moment, the discovery of a void where he had expected celebration and rejoicing. He thinks of the triumphal return to Keoland, and the discovery of his assignment in Flen. His fingers can almost feel the texture of that first foundation stone he laid, and his mind recalls the light that shone through the stained-glass windows during his first dawn service in the newly consecrated temple, painting the pews the color of blood as he looked down on them. He remembers waking one morning, not soon after, and feeling the ache of age in his bones.
Age! Opening his eyes, Marius looks down at his own hands and flexes his fingers. Gnarled hands, strong hands, the hands of a healer and a warrior. And as he looks at them, they tremble ever so gently, as they always seem to do nowadays. Clenching his fingers into fists, Marius takes a deep breath and thinks of the future.
He thinks of the Crown, of the power it is rumored to possess. He thinks of the disappointments he has faced and may encounter in his search, of Songil's failed divinations, of the obstinate resistance of Korven and his companions, of the betrayal of Bartholomew, of the existence of Gulthias Heartsbane - vampire priest of Ashardalon. He thinks of the world beyond the tiny borders of his temple, oblivious to Pholtus and to his existence, crawling through its days in an orgy of blindness. Fools!
Forcing his mind to more positive thoughts, Marius thinks of the knowledge he now possesses, of the maps and information that lead into the Dreadwood. He thinks of the arcane powers of Songil, the loyalty of Phyllis, and his own god-granted abilities. Visions dance before his eyes, of a world where he wears the Crown and speaks forth the will of Pholtus, bending Keoland and the Sheldomar (mayhap even the Flanaess?) to his will, bringing forth an era of peace and prosperity, ending sorrow and suffering throughout the land. He tells himself how minor the sacrifices are that he must accept and the deeds he must do to achieve such a great and laudable end.
And alone in his room, in the darkest watches of the night, Marius Carlyle, war hero and shepherd of his flock, Shining Cardinal of Pholtus, weeps...
When writing up the story, I decided to add a scene showing some of Marius' thoughts and motivations. When I was sending the session story to the players, I first thought of removing this section, since they would not have seen it. But then I decided to keep it in there and simply mention to them that they need to remember this is player info and not character. Do you (esp. those of you writing story hours and such) ever do anything like that? And if so, what's the result of doing so?
In my case, all the players told me was along the lines of, "Nice. We're still going to kill him anyway." Bums
By the way, here's the scene:
***
Hours later...
...Marius sits in his room, staring with unseeing eyes at the sunburst painted on the wall in front of him. Memories play across his mind. Thoughts of an idyllic childhood tending his father's sheep, his acolyteship in the church, the incredible sensation of the first spells that Pholtus granted him, the awe and the mystery of hearing his god speak to him.
He thinks of his battles for the One True Faith, of the lives he saved in Sterich (and Phyllis among them) and the comrades he lost. He remembers dragging out his son's broken body from beneath the corpse of a giant he slew with his own hands, and finding his daughter's corpse pinned to a wall by an ogre's spear. Above all, he remembers the eyes of the dying, always questioning, always accusing, asking why he could not save them.
Passing down the years, his memory dwells upon the day that Sterich was "officially" freed, and he recalls the emptiness of that moment, the discovery of a void where he had expected celebration and rejoicing. He thinks of the triumphal return to Keoland, and the discovery of his assignment in Flen. His fingers can almost feel the texture of that first foundation stone he laid, and his mind recalls the light that shone through the stained-glass windows during his first dawn service in the newly consecrated temple, painting the pews the color of blood as he looked down on them. He remembers waking one morning, not soon after, and feeling the ache of age in his bones.
Age! Opening his eyes, Marius looks down at his own hands and flexes his fingers. Gnarled hands, strong hands, the hands of a healer and a warrior. And as he looks at them, they tremble ever so gently, as they always seem to do nowadays. Clenching his fingers into fists, Marius takes a deep breath and thinks of the future.
He thinks of the Crown, of the power it is rumored to possess. He thinks of the disappointments he has faced and may encounter in his search, of Songil's failed divinations, of the obstinate resistance of Korven and his companions, of the betrayal of Bartholomew, of the existence of Gulthias Heartsbane - vampire priest of Ashardalon. He thinks of the world beyond the tiny borders of his temple, oblivious to Pholtus and to his existence, crawling through its days in an orgy of blindness. Fools!
Forcing his mind to more positive thoughts, Marius thinks of the knowledge he now possesses, of the maps and information that lead into the Dreadwood. He thinks of the arcane powers of Songil, the loyalty of Phyllis, and his own god-granted abilities. Visions dance before his eyes, of a world where he wears the Crown and speaks forth the will of Pholtus, bending Keoland and the Sheldomar (mayhap even the Flanaess?) to his will, bringing forth an era of peace and prosperity, ending sorrow and suffering throughout the land. He tells himself how minor the sacrifices are that he must accept and the deeds he must do to achieve such a great and laudable end.
And alone in his room, in the darkest watches of the night, Marius Carlyle, war hero and shepherd of his flock, Shining Cardinal of Pholtus, weeps...
