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The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Fall '03 Iron DM Tournament -- Wulf Ratbane is Iron DM!
- Thread starter Pielorinho
- Start date
Nifft
Penguin Herder
nemmerle said:
Cool! I actually work on Washington Place & B'way (NYU). tips hat
Wicht -- Congradulations!
(and yeah, lame riddle )And now, for my Justifi-- er, Exposition:
- "Baraghest": I have no excuse. The 3.5e MM was open right next to me.
- Nightmare: actually, the ingredient was meant to be used as the nightmares that afflicted every mortal in the area, as a sign of the dead god's rise. The steed wasn't called a Nightmare until the very end, and was intended as a nod towards the real ingredient.
- Cracked Mirror: the crystal in question should have been described as polished smokey quartz.
- Epigram: "poppy seed mixed with sand" -- that's the valley! In this environment they're needy plants, thus the requirement for slave labor.
- Wizard's Motivation: He's also trying to pay back some loans from Infernal bankers. If you think mortal loan sharks are tough ... shudder!
- Why a Sphinx? That's just the dead god's symbol (or avatar). Perhaps the dead god is a fallen Shedu lich, or a Sphinx lich, or just likes that shape. At any rate, it's vital that the slaves think the golem is the dead god's avatar, or the wizard wasted his money.
I'll see about running an IronNPC(tm) for those who missed out on this IronDM once the current batch of competition is over.
-- N
Rune
Once A Fool
Macbeth vs. Rune
Ingredients
Filthy Nursery (Weathered Hill’s nursery, of course.)
Zombie Swarm (The swarm of zombies, of course.)
Wyvern (Mass murderer, alive and dead.)
Mistaken Hunch (The mayor’s belief about the curse and maybe, just maybe, the PCs belief that the nails are anything more than a red herring.)
Nails (More than a red herring.)
Familial Love (That which is lacking in Bartholomew, the townsfolk, and the children.)
A Familial Story
This is an adventure designed to be played with four characters roughly levels 4-6. It could, if things go badly, be very, very tough, but combat is, otherwise, not very dominant in the scenario.
In the rustic town of Weathered Hill, all is ill. To the casual visitor (if ever there were any), it would appear as if some terrible plague had descended upon the town and swept away all hope and health. Such an observation would not, in fact, be too far from the mark.
…familial love
It all started with a sibling rivalry. Two brothers, so close that they drove each other apart, planted the seed. Indeed, they were very close, and their bond was tight; never would one think of causing harm to the other. But, one day, love intervened, as it is oft wont to do. A woman came forth, while both brothers were still on the younger side of twenty, and she captured, unwittingly, perhaps, the hearts of both. But in the end, it was only one who married her. And she bore children to only one.
All would have been well, but for the bitterness. As loneliness corrupted the poor soul of Bartholomew (for that was the name of the brother so maltreated by love) his nature could do naught but change and within another score of years, his love was hatred.
He slew his brother, then, and his brother’s family.
But in the arms of death, his brother laid upon him a curse, and this he spake:
“I weep that my love for you would come to this. If you would be content to slay me, then so, too, would I be content to die. But as you slay my wife and children, so shall your hatred consume all around you. As we were brothers, so shall it be. Once for you, and once for me.”
What power there is in a dying man’s curse, none can say for certain, but this one came to pass. Not once, but, twice.
Enter the PCs.
The PCs may encounter the town of Weathered Hill in any number of ways. It should be fairly simple for them to merely encounter the town in route to other destinations, as any hill in any clime should do. However, if you would like to specifically direct the PCs toward the town, this could be accomplished in a few of ways.
Invite them. The town knows that it is a cursed town, even though it knows not by whom, or for what reason. It is, therefore, always on the lookout for adventures within the area who might be able to aid in its redemption. They post signs in neighboring towns, and any wandering resident is likely to bring up the subject, if the opportunity presents itself.
Trick them. The town isn’t above lying to adventurers in an attempt to bring them to the town, if they think the mystery of a curse wouldn’t draw them in. In fact, some folk in town believe this is likely to be the most effective way to solve their problems. In this case, there is really no limit to what PCs might be told, if it is likely to bring them into the town. Once in the town, the PCs would then be gradually introduced to the truth of matters (or, that, at least, is the plan).
Force them. The town has a militia, and if it knows that adventurers are passing through the area and unlikely to stop by via other means, the militia may be called upon to redirect them. (The militia has 30 people in it, ranging from level 1 warriors to level 3 fighters--two of these--with most of the militia being level 2 warriors). This is not a move favored my many in town, and will only be used as a last resort, but still…
Once in the town, the PCs should quickly notice that there are no children. Whatsoever. The adults look mostly sickly--even the militia-members--but are, in fact, suffering from no physical disease. It is sorrow and loss that haunts these folk, and kills them daily by degrees.
The second thing the PCs should quickly notice is that its inhabitants are deeply distrustful of each other, and, consequently, cling to the PCs in desperate hope intensified thereby.
…mistaken hunch
The town (populated by about a hundred-fifty grown-folk) supports a graveyard, a town hall (of sorts), and, standing eerily alone, a hollow nursery, once designed as a place for all of the children to live in, with the unusual idea that the healthiest place for children to be raised was among themselves. Parents in the town used to take turns, watching over the children daily and nightly, a new set of parents each night. Not that most children stayed the night all of the time, but they all did fairly often. This, it seemed, helped to build a strong sense of community from early in life, to death.
The town hall is also the residence of the Mayor, a certain Edgar, who is likely to be found there most of the time. He believes, as many in town do, that the curse is attracted to children, and kills them first. He believes that it began when they hung Bartholomew for murder, but he is, of course, mistaken. He believes, also, that Bartholomew’s vengeful spirit is the cause of the curse. On this matter, he is utterly mistaken.
In fact, Bartholomew isn’t even dead. How he survived the hanging, none know, for none know that he did. He simply wasn’t there in the morning, when the townsfolk came to collect the body.
…filthy nursery
Bartholomew has been hiding out in the town’s nursery for the better part of a year, known only to the children, now gone. The children thought him the ghost of Bartholomew, and grew ever more fearful as the days and nights--long, lonely nights--passed by and away. Perhaps it was the fear that brought the wyvern. Perhaps it was the bitter, bitter loneliness of the children isolated from each other, each too terrified to play with each other. Perhaps it was the curse, as most people began to call it. Whatever the reason, the wyvern came. Some children it ate, some it slew. No children were left alive by the time the wyvern was brought down by the militia.
That was all but three months past. Bartholomew now spends little time in the nursery, for fear keeps him away. Now, should the PCs explore the nursery, they will see only neglect, dust, and…nails.
…nails
The nails are coffin nails, left lying on the floor, unnoticed, for the most part, when the bodies of the children disappeared. Oddly, the nails each name a child, though they did not when they were forged. When they were pushed up from the coffins by some dark art (or curse), and fell upon the floor, then the names were inscribed. The inscriptions are fairly difficult to see in the dim lighting of the nursery (if daylight even lights it), but the nails are not. They are nine inches long and radiate a cold sense of evil.
The nails may point the PCs in the direction of the children as the source of the curse, or a necromancer. Both hunches would be, shall we say, mistaken. If they seek a necromancer, the obvious culprit should be Bartholomew. Indeed, while he is the source, in one sense, of the curse, he has not a magical bone in his body. The children, on the other hand, are not the source of the curse, but the second incarnation of it.
…wyvern
The mystery of the children may lead the PCs into the cemetery, or it may not, but if ever the PCs do enter the cemetery, there they will find Bartholomew. He is not hiding in the cemetery, nor is he mourning the loss of the children, nor lamenting the coming of the curse. No. He weeps for himself, and lost love. He weeps at his brother’s grave, wherein lies the form of his own self-destruction.
He weeps, and he rambles. Over and over again, he repeats his brother’s dying curse and, if encountered by the PCs while in this mood, will be willing, though reluctant, to tell its tale. But first, he will play dead. Or, rather, undead.
He knows that all of the town thinks him dead, so he will attempt to fool the PCs into thinking he is an apparition. This will be harder to pull off in the day (say, a spot check with DC 15, vs. a spot check with DC 25 at night), but daylight will not deter him from such a pretense. If he is believed to be a ghost, he will attempt to frighten the PCs away, for he wishes to be alone. Otherwise, he will yield to the PCs desires rather easily and quickly.
All is not well in the graveyard, however. The wyvern, brought into the town as a weapon of the curse, has fallen victim to the curse, as surely did the children and Bartholomew. Hatred and fear consumed it so thoroughly that it’s death did not stay it. It is risen again, a zombie, and stalks the cemetery, searching for something it cannot identify.
If the PCs are in the cemetery, the wyvern-zombie will attack them. The wyvern is an entirely malign entity and will not be subdued unless utterly destroyed. It doesn’t fully comprehend that it is dead, nor that it is not as capable in some areas as it might have been and, consequently, has a tendency to plan poorly for battle, specifically in the department of tactical positioning. Nevertheless, it will likely be a fairly tough fight for the PCs, assuming they fight the thing.
…zombie swarm
The wyvern is, of course, but a precursor to the second part of the curse, that is, carnage to the entire town, dealt out by its own children. They will sweep forth from the shadows, from the crevices, from the dark, unknown places all throughout the town--roughly two hundred zombies, ranging from halfling-size to infant-size.
Naturally (or, more aptly, unnaturally), the town is doomed. That is, of course, unless the PCs are able to kill a couple of hundred zombie-kids. Or stop them some other way. But, in what way? What way?
Perhaps, it is time to speak of the nature of the curse. It is not merely violence, nor death, nor fear, nor anger, nor distrust, nor even bitterness. It is all of these things and more. It is an all-consuming hatred spread through fear and sorrow. The PCs are in danger of contracting it themselves--and spreading it--from the moment they enter into the town. If the town is wiped out by the zombies, it is a sure thing. (In game mechanics, that’s a willpower save vs. DC 10+1 per malicious death, made every time an the PCs witness or learn about such a death or collection of deaths. PCs failing this save at any time will become consumed with bitterness, paranoia, and hatred gradually. This effect is mostly irreversible, though what that means is entirely up to the DM.)
But what is it, exactly, and how is it to be ended?
It is no disease, and paladins are not immune to it (some might say that paladins are especially susceptible to it, though there is no real basis for such an assumption). It is no simple magic to be dispelled. It is, sad to say, merely the human (and demi-human) condition and it is within the heart that change must take place.
…familial love
The best place would be at the source--the first victim of the curse. Bartholomew’s brother. Indeed, his shade lingers still at the grave, though it never makes its presence known. It is consumed with bitterness and hatred for all the living, but this is only because it has lost its humanity. Some reminder of life and love could give the shade its rest.
The actual reminder could be anything the PCs think of (if they are inclined to do so, in the first place), but one thing that could do it is the nails--each with a child’s name on it. These would certainly remind the shade what it means to lose children and, perhaps, that the shade’s curse is vengeance, perhaps even justice; but it is not right.
Once the shade is put to rest, and only then, will the town of Weathered Hill begin to heal. All will not be set straight overnight. The power of undeath will leave the place immediately, but that will not bring the children back. People can begin to trust each other again, but they will have to learn how to do so. Bartholomew may come to terms with his actions, or he may never. The town will not hang him again, however, if they ever learn he is still alive. His punishment has long been served.
Most importantly, the PCs will not be consumed with the curse. However, more tangibly, the mayor will grant the PCs a fortune (for the town) in gold pieces--about 500. Additionally, the PCs will be heroes within the town and treated as such for miles around, as increasingly unlikely stories of their heroism escape across the land.
In short, all will, one day, be well in Weathered Hill.
Ingredients
Filthy Nursery (Weathered Hill’s nursery, of course.)
Zombie Swarm (The swarm of zombies, of course.)
Wyvern (Mass murderer, alive and dead.)
Mistaken Hunch (The mayor’s belief about the curse and maybe, just maybe, the PCs belief that the nails are anything more than a red herring.)
Nails (More than a red herring.)
Familial Love (That which is lacking in Bartholomew, the townsfolk, and the children.)
A Familial Story
This is an adventure designed to be played with four characters roughly levels 4-6. It could, if things go badly, be very, very tough, but combat is, otherwise, not very dominant in the scenario.
In the rustic town of Weathered Hill, all is ill. To the casual visitor (if ever there were any), it would appear as if some terrible plague had descended upon the town and swept away all hope and health. Such an observation would not, in fact, be too far from the mark.
…familial love
It all started with a sibling rivalry. Two brothers, so close that they drove each other apart, planted the seed. Indeed, they were very close, and their bond was tight; never would one think of causing harm to the other. But, one day, love intervened, as it is oft wont to do. A woman came forth, while both brothers were still on the younger side of twenty, and she captured, unwittingly, perhaps, the hearts of both. But in the end, it was only one who married her. And she bore children to only one.
All would have been well, but for the bitterness. As loneliness corrupted the poor soul of Bartholomew (for that was the name of the brother so maltreated by love) his nature could do naught but change and within another score of years, his love was hatred.
He slew his brother, then, and his brother’s family.
But in the arms of death, his brother laid upon him a curse, and this he spake:
“I weep that my love for you would come to this. If you would be content to slay me, then so, too, would I be content to die. But as you slay my wife and children, so shall your hatred consume all around you. As we were brothers, so shall it be. Once for you, and once for me.”
What power there is in a dying man’s curse, none can say for certain, but this one came to pass. Not once, but, twice.
Enter the PCs.
The PCs may encounter the town of Weathered Hill in any number of ways. It should be fairly simple for them to merely encounter the town in route to other destinations, as any hill in any clime should do. However, if you would like to specifically direct the PCs toward the town, this could be accomplished in a few of ways.
Invite them. The town knows that it is a cursed town, even though it knows not by whom, or for what reason. It is, therefore, always on the lookout for adventures within the area who might be able to aid in its redemption. They post signs in neighboring towns, and any wandering resident is likely to bring up the subject, if the opportunity presents itself.
Trick them. The town isn’t above lying to adventurers in an attempt to bring them to the town, if they think the mystery of a curse wouldn’t draw them in. In fact, some folk in town believe this is likely to be the most effective way to solve their problems. In this case, there is really no limit to what PCs might be told, if it is likely to bring them into the town. Once in the town, the PCs would then be gradually introduced to the truth of matters (or, that, at least, is the plan).
Force them. The town has a militia, and if it knows that adventurers are passing through the area and unlikely to stop by via other means, the militia may be called upon to redirect them. (The militia has 30 people in it, ranging from level 1 warriors to level 3 fighters--two of these--with most of the militia being level 2 warriors). This is not a move favored my many in town, and will only be used as a last resort, but still…
Once in the town, the PCs should quickly notice that there are no children. Whatsoever. The adults look mostly sickly--even the militia-members--but are, in fact, suffering from no physical disease. It is sorrow and loss that haunts these folk, and kills them daily by degrees.
The second thing the PCs should quickly notice is that its inhabitants are deeply distrustful of each other, and, consequently, cling to the PCs in desperate hope intensified thereby.
…mistaken hunch
The town (populated by about a hundred-fifty grown-folk) supports a graveyard, a town hall (of sorts), and, standing eerily alone, a hollow nursery, once designed as a place for all of the children to live in, with the unusual idea that the healthiest place for children to be raised was among themselves. Parents in the town used to take turns, watching over the children daily and nightly, a new set of parents each night. Not that most children stayed the night all of the time, but they all did fairly often. This, it seemed, helped to build a strong sense of community from early in life, to death.
The town hall is also the residence of the Mayor, a certain Edgar, who is likely to be found there most of the time. He believes, as many in town do, that the curse is attracted to children, and kills them first. He believes that it began when they hung Bartholomew for murder, but he is, of course, mistaken. He believes, also, that Bartholomew’s vengeful spirit is the cause of the curse. On this matter, he is utterly mistaken.
In fact, Bartholomew isn’t even dead. How he survived the hanging, none know, for none know that he did. He simply wasn’t there in the morning, when the townsfolk came to collect the body.
…filthy nursery
Bartholomew has been hiding out in the town’s nursery for the better part of a year, known only to the children, now gone. The children thought him the ghost of Bartholomew, and grew ever more fearful as the days and nights--long, lonely nights--passed by and away. Perhaps it was the fear that brought the wyvern. Perhaps it was the bitter, bitter loneliness of the children isolated from each other, each too terrified to play with each other. Perhaps it was the curse, as most people began to call it. Whatever the reason, the wyvern came. Some children it ate, some it slew. No children were left alive by the time the wyvern was brought down by the militia.
That was all but three months past. Bartholomew now spends little time in the nursery, for fear keeps him away. Now, should the PCs explore the nursery, they will see only neglect, dust, and…nails.
…nails
The nails are coffin nails, left lying on the floor, unnoticed, for the most part, when the bodies of the children disappeared. Oddly, the nails each name a child, though they did not when they were forged. When they were pushed up from the coffins by some dark art (or curse), and fell upon the floor, then the names were inscribed. The inscriptions are fairly difficult to see in the dim lighting of the nursery (if daylight even lights it), but the nails are not. They are nine inches long and radiate a cold sense of evil.
The nails may point the PCs in the direction of the children as the source of the curse, or a necromancer. Both hunches would be, shall we say, mistaken. If they seek a necromancer, the obvious culprit should be Bartholomew. Indeed, while he is the source, in one sense, of the curse, he has not a magical bone in his body. The children, on the other hand, are not the source of the curse, but the second incarnation of it.
…wyvern
The mystery of the children may lead the PCs into the cemetery, or it may not, but if ever the PCs do enter the cemetery, there they will find Bartholomew. He is not hiding in the cemetery, nor is he mourning the loss of the children, nor lamenting the coming of the curse. No. He weeps for himself, and lost love. He weeps at his brother’s grave, wherein lies the form of his own self-destruction.
He weeps, and he rambles. Over and over again, he repeats his brother’s dying curse and, if encountered by the PCs while in this mood, will be willing, though reluctant, to tell its tale. But first, he will play dead. Or, rather, undead.
He knows that all of the town thinks him dead, so he will attempt to fool the PCs into thinking he is an apparition. This will be harder to pull off in the day (say, a spot check with DC 15, vs. a spot check with DC 25 at night), but daylight will not deter him from such a pretense. If he is believed to be a ghost, he will attempt to frighten the PCs away, for he wishes to be alone. Otherwise, he will yield to the PCs desires rather easily and quickly.
All is not well in the graveyard, however. The wyvern, brought into the town as a weapon of the curse, has fallen victim to the curse, as surely did the children and Bartholomew. Hatred and fear consumed it so thoroughly that it’s death did not stay it. It is risen again, a zombie, and stalks the cemetery, searching for something it cannot identify.
If the PCs are in the cemetery, the wyvern-zombie will attack them. The wyvern is an entirely malign entity and will not be subdued unless utterly destroyed. It doesn’t fully comprehend that it is dead, nor that it is not as capable in some areas as it might have been and, consequently, has a tendency to plan poorly for battle, specifically in the department of tactical positioning. Nevertheless, it will likely be a fairly tough fight for the PCs, assuming they fight the thing.
…zombie swarm
The wyvern is, of course, but a precursor to the second part of the curse, that is, carnage to the entire town, dealt out by its own children. They will sweep forth from the shadows, from the crevices, from the dark, unknown places all throughout the town--roughly two hundred zombies, ranging from halfling-size to infant-size.
Naturally (or, more aptly, unnaturally), the town is doomed. That is, of course, unless the PCs are able to kill a couple of hundred zombie-kids. Or stop them some other way. But, in what way? What way?
Perhaps, it is time to speak of the nature of the curse. It is not merely violence, nor death, nor fear, nor anger, nor distrust, nor even bitterness. It is all of these things and more. It is an all-consuming hatred spread through fear and sorrow. The PCs are in danger of contracting it themselves--and spreading it--from the moment they enter into the town. If the town is wiped out by the zombies, it is a sure thing. (In game mechanics, that’s a willpower save vs. DC 10+1 per malicious death, made every time an the PCs witness or learn about such a death or collection of deaths. PCs failing this save at any time will become consumed with bitterness, paranoia, and hatred gradually. This effect is mostly irreversible, though what that means is entirely up to the DM.)
But what is it, exactly, and how is it to be ended?
It is no disease, and paladins are not immune to it (some might say that paladins are especially susceptible to it, though there is no real basis for such an assumption). It is no simple magic to be dispelled. It is, sad to say, merely the human (and demi-human) condition and it is within the heart that change must take place.
…familial love
The best place would be at the source--the first victim of the curse. Bartholomew’s brother. Indeed, his shade lingers still at the grave, though it never makes its presence known. It is consumed with bitterness and hatred for all the living, but this is only because it has lost its humanity. Some reminder of life and love could give the shade its rest.
The actual reminder could be anything the PCs think of (if they are inclined to do so, in the first place), but one thing that could do it is the nails--each with a child’s name on it. These would certainly remind the shade what it means to lose children and, perhaps, that the shade’s curse is vengeance, perhaps even justice; but it is not right.
Once the shade is put to rest, and only then, will the town of Weathered Hill begin to heal. All will not be set straight overnight. The power of undeath will leave the place immediately, but that will not bring the children back. People can begin to trust each other again, but they will have to learn how to do so. Bartholomew may come to terms with his actions, or he may never. The town will not hang him again, however, if they ever learn he is still alive. His punishment has long been served.
Most importantly, the PCs will not be consumed with the curse. However, more tangibly, the mayor will grant the PCs a fortune (for the town) in gold pieces--about 500. Additionally, the PCs will be heroes within the town and treated as such for miles around, as increasingly unlikely stories of their heroism escape across the land.
In short, all will, one day, be well in Weathered Hill.
Wulf Ratbane
Adventurer
Nifft said:
And if Rune had been judging, that might have won you the contest right there.
Pielorinho
Iron Fist of Pelor
Huh?Wulf Ratbane said:
FWIW, I totally got that the crystal was mirrorish; my problem with it as an ingredient is that there were no cool scenes suggested preceding its completion, when such scenes would be vital to running this as an adventure.
Daniel
Rune
Once A Fool
Pielorinho said:
Wulf's refering to my fondness of the Dark Crystal, which is, in fact exactly what I thought of when I read that passage (surprise, surprise). In truth though, I'd say I agree with Pie's judgement almost word for word in this case. Both were excellent entries, to be sure!
Wulf Ratbane
Adventurer
Rune said:
Yup, just being goofy. It was not a critique on the judging at all!
Except to say that Rune loves being pandered to. The bastard...
Wulf
Pielorinho
Iron Fist of Pelor
Ah, okay, Dark Crystal -- I shoulda caught that. Silly me!
And it's funny, but I thought my critiques so far were pretty harsh. I guess harsh to a Southern boy is different from harsh to a Yankee, eh, Nemmerle? I'll be sure to be harsher on you next round.
Daniel
And it's funny, but I thought my critiques so far were pretty harsh. I guess harsh to a Southern boy is different from harsh to a Yankee, eh, Nemmerle?
I'll be sure to be harsher on you next round.Daniel
