RPG Evolution: Philmont Adventures - Day 5

Day 5 began beautifully for us. I, along with another adult leader, awoke early just to enjoy the gorgeous sunrise. The wind had whipped our tents quite a bit that night, but blessedly, there was no rain. Instead, warm gusts of wind kept blowing through our campsite, a truly welcome reprieve from the frigid cold of previous storms. This was the best day yet (because it was dry!) and it was the first camp site we were sorry to leave.

Our journey that day took us 5.0 miles from Aguila to Urraca, a hike that involved a moderate gain of +985 feet followed by a substantial descent of -1,276 feet. This meant we'd be dropping into a valley, and we knew from experience that such descents could be tough on the knees.

Along the way, we hit a small snag. One of my liters of water, stored in a dromedary (a plastic bag designed to carry water outside my pack), was speared clean through by a branch. Precious water leaked everywhere, and just like that, I was one liter down. It was a stark reminder of how quickly things can go sideways on the trail. Despite that, we soon arrived at Urraca.

Their next destination was Urrdalen (Ancient Valley), a dry camp, so they meticulously filled every available container with the purified water, its clarity a small comfort after the previous day's ordeal. Lamech and Keogh, despite the morning's trauma, rose early the next day, drawn by the irresistible call of the Kir Kurad. They watched in quiet awe as the sun, a blazing orb of gold and crimson, crested the jagged peaks, painting the vast expanse of trees and mountains in breathtaking hues. In the distance, stark against the vibrant sky, loomed their ultimate destination, the Drakentand, daring them to scale its formidable heights.

As they made their way towards Urrdalen, the path, though less steep than the previous day's climbs, was still challenging. Then, in the distance, an anomaly appeared: a solitary house, nestled incongruously amidst the rugged terrain.

We settled into camp and ate lunch, then prepared for the Low COPE (Challenging Outdoor Personal Experience) Program. The COPE is positioned as a haunted house the Scouts are trapped in and they have to work together to escape.

The Scouts engaged in three distinct challenges: first, trying to keep a balance board steady with all their weight on it; second, balancing across a rope bridge with only two ropes for guidance at intervals; and finally, climbing a sheer wall with no climbing equipment or apparent handholds. It was incredibly rewarding to watch them; they overcame all three beautifully, showcasing impressive teamwork.

The three challenges can be replicated in Dungeons & Dragons. The idea is that it should involve teamwork, so no roll is in isolation, and PCs affect each other by their success (and can potentially harm each other by their failure). That said, The Gaping Maw House may have magical suppression to prevent flight/teleportation as it's a curse of the mountains meant to test the characters:

• Tilting Pit: Three Dexterity (Acrobatics) checks to to not upend the fulcrum, with each character having to make a DC 10 check and, if failing, one of the balancing characters making an opposed check to right the pit cover before the whole thing falls in. Falling damage varies depending on the level of the party but could easily be down the piercing rocks below (10d6 Piercing damage).
• Rope Bridge: Three Dexterity (Acrobatics) checks of increasing difficulty (DC 10, 12, 15). If a character fails he can make a Dexterity saving throw (same DCs) to grab onto the rope to stop himself from falling. Damage for failing could easily be down the crevasse of over 100 feet (10d6 Bludgeoning damage).
• Sheer Wall: Three Strength (Athletics) checks (DCs 10, 12, and 15), with Advantage imposed for those who succeed on the next character climbing above them, and Disadvantage on those who fail.

Jib and Jab exchanged wary glances. "Trapped," Jib muttered, his usual boisterousness muted. "We've heard of this place. The Gaping Maw House."

Aindreas scouted for a route around, but it was futile; the house formed a natural bottleneck, its weathered timbers spanning a chasm between two sheer mountain faces. Passage through it was the only option.

With practiced efficiency, Jib and Jab set to work. Their lockpicks danced in the ancient mechanism, working perfectly in sync. The heavy wooden door creaked open with a groan that echoed ominously.

"Stay back," Jib cautioned, his voice low. Jab, ever the bolder twin, edged forward into the dim interior.

The moment Jab's weight settled on the floorboards, the entire surface tilted downwards with a sickening lurch. "Jib!" he shouted, his voice a strangled cry as he scrabbled for purchase.

Jib, reacting instantly, threw his weight onto the opposite side, landing hard and tilting the floor back up with a jarring thud. In the brief, terrifying glimpse of sunlight from the open doorway, they saw it: glistening, razor-sharp rocks below, revealed by the yawning pit that the tilting floor had momentarily exposed.

"This is ridiculous," Sikstoffer exclaimed, his jovial demeanor replaced by a look of bewildered frustration. "How are we supposed to get across this... contraption?"

"I've got it!" Bryon declared, his eyes alight with a challenge. He pounced lightly, landing with effortless balance between the two halflings, his weight distributing perfectly. "Now, one at a time. Everyone will have to go quickly; the weight won't hold otherwise."

True to his word, with Jib and Jab counterbalancing Bryon in the middle, each of the adventuring party scurried across the tilting floor, their movements swift and precise, a testament to their growing trust.

"Your turn, Jib!" Bryon called, extending two hands to give the halfling a quick boost. Jib crouched, a mischievous glint in his eye, then ran at full speed. Bryon caught his foot, and with a powerful heave, launched him overhead. The halfling tumbled through the air, and Jab, waiting on the safe side, caught him, both landing in a tangled heap, but safely across the tilting pit.

That left Bryon alone on the treacherous floor. Free of the halflings' counterweight, the floor tilted dangerously, threatening to plunge him into the spiked abyss. Bryon pounded forward at high speed, his true athleticism apparent. He had competed in the Games in the Atikoff, and he could practically hear the phantom cheers of the crowd as he surged forward, even as the pit yawned wider and he was nearly climbing vertically. With a final, acrobatic tumble, he landed gracefully on the edge at the far side, just as the pit's fulcrum pivoted almost ninety degrees.

He faced glum looks from his companions. Jib and Jab had already unlocked the door on the far side and pushed it open, revealing the next, equally distressing challenge: the floor had broken away completely, leaving two ropes dangling between them and the next section of the house. One rope hung at about floor height, the other at arm's height, depending on the adventurer.

"Easy enough," Bryon said, trying to sound confident. Then he looked down. The house, it was clear, was not merely a structure, but a bridge. Below them, a vast crevasse yawned into impenetrable darkness, deep enough that the ambient sunlight from the windows couldn't reach its depths. The others looked at him expectantly. "Guess I'm going first."

Bryon grabbed hold of the upper rope, steadying his feet on the lower rope. "Follow after me, but wait until I'm across. Try to mimic my steps."

He edged out over the abyss, his movements precise. The problem soon became apparent mid-way. The guide rope Bryon was using to steady himself was actually tied to the foot rope, with another, dangling rope hanging from above and tantalizingly out of reach. There was a breathtaking moment where he had to let go of the guide rope lest he unbalance himself, and reach for the dangling rope... and caught it.

Holding on tight, he swung with his full weight, landing safely on the other side. Now, the rope firmly in his grasp, he gestured for Jib and Jab, who lightly crossed easily, though they had to stretch to hold onto the guide rope. Bryon then swung the dangling rope to them in turn, and they swung across with effortless grace.

Aindreas struggled, his dwarven bulk making the crossing more perilous, but Bryon and the halflings did their best to guide and encourage him. Dauid and Lamech, with a flash of arcane energy, simply teleported across, while Keogh anchored himself with a magically summoned vine, securing his passage. The others followed suit, each with their own method, until only Sikstoffer remained on the far side.

"Not so bad, see?" Bryon called, swinging the rope back toward the Sanguistone native, a cheerful grin on his face.

Sikstoffer was smiling as he reached for the rope, and was still smiling when the frayed rope beneath his feet snapped with a sickening crack. His gaze turned to pure shock as he realized the fatal mistake—that the rope had been wet and ragged from years of weather and the constant friction of other adventurers crossing it. With a yelp that was abruptly cut short, he disappeared into the abyss.

Bryon plunged after him without a second thought, but the halflings grabbed him by the arms, pulling him back from the edge. "It's too late!" Jib shouted, his voice unusually grim. "He's gone," Jab added, his face pale. "He's gone!"

Like Uilleam before him, Sikstoffer didn't so much die as disappear, swallowed up by the mountains themselves. He was there one minute, a cheerful presence, gone the next, leaving only a chilling void. After Emem, his face a mask of sorrow, said another prayer and carved another symbol of Sikkar on the floor—a habit he was becoming too accustomed to doing in lieu of a proper burial—they faced the final wall. There was no way forward; the rope bridge ended abruptly against a sheer rock face that had fallen from the mountain above, wedging itself, a sheer, unscalable barrier with no purchase.

"Can you teleport us?" Sikstrian asked, his lanky frame trembling slightly.

Dauid shook his head, his face drawn. "Not all of us. I used most of my magic to teleport across the bridge. I can only take two people."

Bryon, depressed and upset by the loss of his cheerful companion, looked up at the daunting wall. "We'll have to climb it."

"Climb it?" Aindreas asked, incredulous. "And how do you propose we do that, Pankrationist?"

"A human chain," Jib piped up, ever practical.

"Well, elf, and halfling, and dwarf chain," Jab added with a rare, somber wit.

Bryon nodded. "They're right. That can work. Biggest on the bottom, the lightest climb them..." Dauid, Keogh, and Lamech formed the bottom of the pyramid, their combined strength a sturdy base. Aindreas and Sikstrian formed the next level atop their shoulders. That left Jib and Jab, who nimbly climbed atop their shoulders in turn. Bryon, using every ounce of his muscular core, hoisted the lighter Jib and Jab up.

The three of them then pulled Aindreas and Sikstrian up with a grunt of effort. Lamech and Dauid pushed the taller Keogh up, and his companions at the top grabbed him, scrabbling to the crest. With a final flash of arcane energy, Dauid cast a spell, and he and Lamech appeared with them at the top of the wall, breathing heavily but safely across.

Beyond the wall lay Urrdalen. They walked down the scree on the other side of the covered bridge to the camp, grim-faced but relieved they had made it to safety.

We concluded the day with a fun campfire program that had a Ghostbusters theme. The camp counselors put on quite a show, and then, in a playful twist, asked for volunteers to "sell their soul" to appease the spirits of the camp. My son, of course, bravely (and humorously) traded his soul for some chicken nuggets. He got Pop-Tarts instead.

In D&D terms, the camp host is Vitvag, an archfey warlock who is happy to barter with PCs in exchange for helpful spells. That said, she considers it critical that the Gaping Maw House be "fed" -- it's kind of a necessary evil according to her mysterious patron -- and thus any PC who gives up some of their soul suffers 1d10 Necrotic damage per level of the spell she provides (she's very apologetic about this).

"Greetings!" shouted a brown-haired woman with her hair in a neat ponytail, dressed in practical, yet elegant, robes. Lamech, with his bard's keen eye for detail, recognized something in her bearing, a certain unconventional energy that suggested a cultist of some sort, certainly not a traditional Sikkarite. Emem, ever devout, kept his mouth shut; now was not the time to quibble over religion.

"I am Vitvag," she said, her voice clear and welcoming. "Welcome to our camp. Make yourselves at home. I see you made it through the Bridge House. Few do—and before you ask, we don't set it up that way. It's been crumbling for some time, but despite our best efforts, it seems to repair itself. I've tried to destroy it myself several times."

Vitvag led them to a clear campground, and the party, exhausted but grateful for the respite, set to putting up tents and bear bags. She invited them afterwards to a special ceremony.

Later, they gathered in a field, the last rays of sun painting the sky. "I can see you're feeling glum at the loss of your chum," Vitvag began, her eyes twinkling with an odd humor, "so to relieve your yoke, let me tell you a joke: Two penguins are paddling in a canoe across the desert. It's taking a long time and it's a wearying journey, as you might imagine since penguins have no idea what one packs for a desert. After a while, the first penguin turns to the second and says, 'Where's your oar?' To which the second penguin responds, 'Sure does!'" Vitvag waited, a hopeful smile on her face. Nobody laughed. "This'll make sense later," she said, undeterred. "Now, there are spirits here—the ones that repopulate that accursed Bridge House, which must be appeased. Who is willing to give up a tiny bit of their soul in exchange?"

Bryon, his usual jovial spirit dampened by the day's losses, hopped up. "I will," he said, his voice firm.

Emem looked askance at him. "Are you sure, Bryon? This is foul magic at play."

Bryon shrugged, a weary gesture. "We've lost so much already." He stood near Vitvag.

"What would you like in exchange for a piece of your soul?" she asked, as she began to cast a spell, her hands weaving intricate patterns in the air.

"I could really go for some chicken," Bryon said, then added, "But I'd like Sikstoffer back too."

Vitvag snorted, a surprisingly un-wizardly sound. "Food or friendship!" She finished the ritual, and purple and black sparkles encircled Bryon, swirling around him for a moment before dissipating. "Only the mountain can determine if you earn both, but..." She reached behind Bryon's ear and, with a flourish, withdrew a perfectly formed, white egg from it. "At least one of your requests has been answered."

"Parlor tricks," Dauid snorted, though a hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes. The others, however, applauded, a mix of relief and amusement. But when Sikstoffer didn't reappear, their enthusiasm waned, replaced by a renewed sense of grim reality.

"Tomorrow, I will lead you out of here at dawn," Vitvag said, her tone suddenly serious. "It's best if you leave as quickly as possible. The spirits here will otherwise rouse you, and trust me, you'll much prefer my company to theirs."

They bedded down for the night, the wind still whipping, but the air now carrying a strange, almost comforting warmth. Yet, a grim realization settled over them: they were now down two members, and Bryon had perhaps traded a part of his soul for a single egg. The Kir Kurad had claimed its price, and the journey to the Drakentand felt heavier than ever.

We were the only crew that agreed to the extra challenge of waking at dawn the next day to scramble up the cliffs to see the sunrise, accompanied by a crew member dressed in wizard robes. We thought that would be a highlight, but we had no idea that it would just be the beginning of a very challenging day.

Philmont Adventure Log​

For the full journey, see the rest of the series:

• Day 0
• Day 1
• Day 2
• Day 3
• Day 4
• Day 5
• Day 6
• Day 7

 

[Eyes of Nine]

Ah, the foreshadowing...

 

[talien]

Ah, the foreshadowing...

Dun dun DUNNNNN!