Delve 'til Ya Die! Then Delve Some More!

[zendog]

I'm running a play-by-post game over at RPGnet and I thought I'd post a journal about it here. How long it will last I don't know. Based on past experience forum games have a mortality rate almost as high as T&T.

Anyway, the game is called . . .

Delve 'til Ya Die! Then Delve Some More!

It's 5th ed with SPD and WZ stats pretty much the only houserules.

I have six players, whose RPGnet usernames are; O'Borg, MikeD, Stormraven, shadowjack, Bovine Madness and Age of Fable, who you all know as apeloveage.

The game is based in Delverton, a town that grew around the Blue Frog Tavern. This will be the characters base as I run them through commerical, and free net dungeons.

I've had each player roll up a stable of six characters, becasue this is T&T 5th ed there will be fatalities. I've also stipulated that each players stable contains one each of the six main Kindreds and two each of the three basic classes.

The first four characters in the party are . . .

Age of fable's . . .

Sack and Sugar Fairy Type:Wizard Level: 1

GP: 6 AP: 0 Ht: 12.5cm (5'') Wt:9.5lb 4.3kg 95 weight units

ST:3 IQ:10 LK:12 CON:2 DEX:14 CHR:18 SPD:5 WZ: 9

Combat Adds: -4 Missile Adds: -2 Wt Possible:300 Wt Carried: 149

Weapons

Haldie 2d + 4 (req. STR 2 DEX 4, weight 10)

3 dirks: 2d + 1, range 10 yards (req. STR 1 DEX 4/10 to throw, weight 16 each = 48)

Armour

arming doublet: takes 3 hits (req. STR 3, weight 75)

Others

warm dry clothing and pack (weight 10)

Magic

all 1st level spells

Languages

Elvish (fairy dialect)

Stromraven's . . .

Sun's Glint from a Knife Kin: Fairy Type: Rogue Level: 1

GP: 17 AP: 0 Ht: ½" Wt: 1lb

ST: 2 IQ: 13 LK: 14 CON: 2 DEX: 24 CHR: 26 SPD: 10 WZ: 12

Combat Adds: + 7 Missile Adds: +19 Wt Possible: 200 Wt Carried: 108

Weapons

Bank 2+3, Blowpipe 0 +1

Armour

Quilted Silk Armour (3)

Others

Warm dry clothing and pack, 30 darts, Magnetic Compass

Magic

Detect Magic (1)

Languages

Elven, Rodent

Bovine Madness' . . .

Alice Hoptree Kin: Human Type: Rogue Level: 1

GP: 62 AP:__________Ht: 4'5 Wt: 86 lbs

ST: 9 IQ: 5 LK: 8 CON: 8 DEX: 12 CHR: 10 SPD: 3 WZ: 5

Combat Adds: -1 Missile Adds: 0 Wt Possible: 900 Wt Carried:150

Weapons

Dirk (2+1)
Sling (2)

Armour

None

Others

Peasant's Clothing

Magic

None

Languages

Common

and O' Borg's . . .

Torsten McManus Kin: Dwarf. Type:Fighter. Level: 1
GP: 10 AP:__________Ht: 3'9" Wt: 158lbs

ST: 28 IQ: 6 LK: 12 CON: 28 DEX: 13 CHR: 8 SPD: 6 WZ: 0

Combat Adds: +17 Missile Adds: +1 Wt Possible: 2800 Wt Carried: 255

Weapons
Pickaxe 3+0

Armour
Steel cap (1 hit)
Leather jerkin (1 hit)
Steel bracers (1 hit each)

Others
Clothes & pack
Calf boots

Magic - None

Languages - Dwarvish

EDIT: Here is shadowjack's character . . .

Fatty Eblin, Female Elf Rogue, Level 1
GP: 0 / AP: 0 / Height 6' 3" / Weight 350 lbs. / Age 83 years
ST 10 / IQ 17 / LK 11 / CN 6 / DX 12 / CH 28 / SP 13 / WZ 10
Combat Adds +0 / Missile Adds +0 / Weight Possible 100 lbs. / Weight Carried 42 lbs. and a bit

Weapons
Common spear (3d+1, throwing range 40 yards, ST8, DX8, 5 lbs.)
Staff sling (†3d, range 150 yards, ST5, DX11, 10 lbs.)
Pouch of 100 stones (5 lbs.)
Crowbar (2d, ST10, DX1, 3.5 lbs.)

Armour
Suit of quilted armor (3h, ST1, 10 lbs.)
Sandals (0.2 lb.)

Miscellaneous
Delver's Special (3 lbs.)
Tinder box (0.2 lb.)
5x torches (2 hours duration, 1 lb. each)
50' twine (0.3 lb.)

Magic
Detect Magic [1]

Languages
High Tongues: Elven (native tongue), Common, Dwarvish
Low Tongues: Equine


I'm just waiting for one more player to post there first charcters for the party before starting.

While we're waiting to start I posted a Prologue and an intro. I'll post both of them here for giggles but after that I'll just post a summary of what happened on each individual adventure.

[zendog]

The Prologue Goes Ever On . . .

. . . and on . .

. . .and on . . .

. . . no seriously it does and all the jokes are bad. No, like real bad. You might want to just skip to the end where the *Rock Demon says "let the adventure begin!" You won't miss anything important . . . no clues to the whereabouts of magical treasure or hints that might just save your life in certain dungeon rooms. . . honest . . . just skip to the the Rock Demon . . .in fact, make a 1st lvl SR on IQ. If you make it skip to the end. If you fail . . . then read on . . .

. . . Five hundred strong, well armed, and well trained. You are the finest mercenary warband on the Dragon Head continent. Destined for fame, wealth, and glory!

Well at least that's what your legendary leader the Wizard and Were-Horse Grand-Olf The Dray keeps telling you. He better be right, especially now you've all signed a contract magically binding you to the company until the last man dies!

Your Dwarvern Drillmaster Dargo Dargoson has a different view. He thinks you're all snivelling, glory hunters who'll get themselves (and him) killed at the first opportunity.

Hale and hearty you head out on your first commission and march to the 'We couldn't afford a Keep so we built a Hill-Fort on the Lands quite near some Borders or other.' Lately it has been plagued by the magical appearance of some Tumultuous Tunnels ™ filled with all manner vile creatures. Well, Goblins. It is your task to clear the tunnels of these creatures.

A frightened guide leads you to the entrance. At the base of a mountain there is a magical Elven door ornately carved and covered with mystical runes which read "Speak Friend and Enter." However, next to that someone has hacked out a rough tunnel entrance. Above that there is a sign scrawled in common which reads . . .

The Mines of Morearehere - Now Under New Management – Free Entrance – Height Restriction 8' Max – No Mithral Shirts Allowed!

At first everything went well as Grand-Olf lead you further and further into the mazey Mines of Morearehere. Only very occasionally was he heard to mumble under his breath such motivational utterances as, "why am I doing this? I'm just not the leadership type." Or "Okay, now I know we're lost." Or "Die, die, we're all going to die!" or "I wish I'd brought a saddle with me I really want that Elf chick to saddle me, mount me, and ride me like— d**n, have we already been this way before?"

Eventually you rested while Drillmaster Dargo wrote his will and Grand-Olf The Dray argued with his imaginary therapist. Meanwhile a bored and feckless Hobbit decided this would be a good time to chuck something down the deep and ominously dark well.

That's when the drums started.

Oppressive, fear inducing, sanity blasting drumming.

Mainly two hour avant-garde Jazz drum solos but, sometimes some Bongos too.

And then there we're Goblins. Everywhere! From every tunnel, from every door, from every secret passage, they poured out. No matter where you tried to flee someone shouted "there's more here." Or "Guys there are more here." Until the shouts and screams of "more are 'ere!" Echoed throughout out The Mines of Morearehere.

Bravely, Grand-Olf led the retreat, heroically screaming "I know they only have a Monster Rating of ten, but there's thousands of them, you do the math!"

Mercilessly the Goblins chased you, picking off your companions as you all fought bravely – to be first across the bridge and out of the mines. Then from the fiery pit of Hell came a fiend so evil, so awesome, so . . .err . . . well, Balrogy. He was Balrog. You all know what they look like, big dude, flames, fiery whip, MR 600.

"Hello little men," boomed the Balrog and stomped across the bridge. Drillmaster Dargo selflessly pushed Grand-Olf back onto the bridge and with much encouragement shouted "This is your fault Ponyboy!"

Grand-Olf braced himself and staff in hand he faced the dread Balrog (after Drillmaster Dargo picked up and put his staff back in his hand and turned him round again).

Melodramatically slamming his staff into the bridge he cried . . .and then between sobs shouted the immortal lines . . ."Thou Shall not— urk-gurgle-urk."

Transfixed you all stood watching as Grand-Olf's burning head fell from one side of the bridge and his charred corpse shlopped off the other side.

After that no one really remembers what happened next, but you all agree there was a lot of killing, a lot of screaming and a lot of fleeing. Mainly fleeing.

Now, of your five-hundred strong mercenary company, there are only thirty odd left. Drillmaster Dargo is ashen faced and mortally wounded (after trying to scramble to saftey over a formation of fleeing Pikemen). You've been carrying him for miles. Finally he asks to be put down.

"I'm done for lads leave me here." He gasps.

"Oh great, yeah, make us carry you for two days then ask to be left here." Says one of you stoically.

"And what about us? What are we supposed to do now? What about the contract?"

"Yeah, Buttmunch I spent everything I had joining this outfit I can't go home empty handed."

Drillmaster Dargo coughs, hacks what looks like half a lung up, then almost imperceptibly whispers the word . . .

"Delverton."

"Delverton? What the hell is Delverton?"

"Well," says Drillmaster Dargo suddenly perking up a bit. "Funny you should ask that . . .

"The small shanty town of Delverton has grown up around The Blue Frog Tavern. Adventurers are drawn there and where there’s delvers there’s gold. Delverton traders are thriving on the Delving economy and can cater and supply all the needs of the working delver.

"The ale, food, and rooms, not to mention the band, at the Blue Frog Tavern can’t be matched, but the prices are steep. However, for new adventurers Delverton has cheaper alternatives. The Happy Hobbit sells passable ale and good but simple fare eleven times a day. Though the furniture is a bit on the small side. At the lower end of the market Gutrot Snotspit runs a rowdy and raucous place The Hobblin' Goblin, where the ale is foul but cheap, the food more deadly than any dungeon, and the patrons fond of stabbing one another. Still after half a bottle of Olde Gutrot's Peculiar no one really cares. The Delver's Rest offers clean beds on a by the night basis and Khazan Ken offers the best deals on a delver timeshare this side of the great North-South Khazan-Khost Road. Of course for the truly down at heel there is always the gutter.

"There is no lack of essential services either . . .

"The wizards guild is represented, but Fizzfaxx isn’t pleased at what he considers demotion to a regional backwater posting. Still, at least he has time to research new spells and curses to unleash on Leprechauns and Rogues when he’s not manning the Wizards Guild's booth. There's always Padraig's Potions & Parchments to stock up on magical assistance of a more disposable nature and The Temple of Cure Light Wounds or The Holy Hobbit Hospice of Constitutional Convalescence are always ready to help in exhchange for a generous donation. Gottir the Dwarven Smith does a fine line in bespoke metal armour and bladed weapons, Crow the Elven Fletcher is enigmatic and ever so slightly overpriced. Master Hogan’s Supplies takes care of your everyday delvers needs and Tobamouri’s Curios has a myriad of second hand weapons, armour and oddities. There's always Strongarm Seth's Swords For Hire if you need that little bit of extra muscle. Potterman's Loans and Savings will take the worry out of finances, Mystic Mog's Delvers Divination will guide you, and Beutles Bags will take care of all your . . . well bagagge needs."

"This dying man's monologue has been brought to you on behalf of the Delverton Guild of Traders."

He coughs once more and hands you a map to Delverton.

"Here, take this. Tell Halfcut I sent you. He owns the Blue Frog Tavern."

With that Drillmaster Dargo breathes his last and dies.

"Did he say Blue Frog Tavern?" One of you asks.

Drillmaster Dargo opens his eyes and perks up again.

"Ahh, The Blue Frog Tavern! You’ll find no finer ale On the Great North-South Road than the draft served in The Blue Frog Tavern. But it’s not just the ale that attracts the world weary travelers of the Dragon head continent. As the current patron, the canny Rock Demon Halfcut often remarks...

'A quick pint at the Frog can lead to a lifetime of adventure.'

"But as his Hobbit bouncer Hmfh is keen to point out...

'Just don’t count on it being a very long lifetime.'

"Just one more thing and this is really important, lads. I can't stress how vital this is! Under no cirmcumstances, ever, ever let Halfcut get you to ask his Hobbit bouncer Hmfh to–"

Drillmaster Dargo gurgles, breathes his (second) last and dies.

Of course, none of you hear any of that. You're hotfooting it to Delverton and the Blue Frog Tavern.

*I know the Rock Demon hasn't even shown up yet, let alone said "let the adventure begin!" Don't worry he's bound to turn up in the next post . . . probably . . . anyway, in the mean time make a 2nd lvl SR on IQ. If you make it skip to the end of the next post where the Rock Demon says "let the adventure begin!" If you fail then read on . . .

[zendog]

Intro – Railroaded, Ripped off, and Ready for Adventure?

Yeah, so the prologue went on a bit. Sorry about that. Not to worry. You know those quick snappy introductions, well . . . I'm afraid this isn't one of them . . .

. . . If you want to attack the GM write down your HPT and go to 12D. If you want to try using magic write down the spell you wish to use and consult the Magic Matrix at the back of the book. If you want to talk him into starting the adventure right now! Make a 1st lvl SR on Chr. If you make it go to 7B if you fail he kills you. You are dead go to 3A.

. . . alternatively, make a 3rd lvl SR on IQ if you make it skip to the end. Go straight to the bit where the *Rock Demon says "let the adventure begin!" if you fail . . .

. . . then read on . . .

. . . Drillmaster Dargo's map to Delverton is easy to read. There is one line inked across the page. Next to it is written 'Great North-South Road.' Halfway along the road an 'x' has been scrawled. Next to that is written 'Delverton.' Either side of the 'road' the map bears the legend 'Here be Wandering Dragons.'

You stick to the road and march for half the night. Weary, demoralised, and magically bound to stay together until the last man dies, you eventually arrive on the outskirts of Delverton. The sign says 'Delverton: Population -----', but the number runes have been scratched off and carved back on so many times; it's impossible to tell how many souls dwell in Delverton.

Besides, you're all kinda distracted by the extremely mean looking Hobbit with the glowing red runes on his forehead. The Wizards amongst you sense them emanating menacing waves of very high level magic. Those of you that can read Dwarven runes decipher them as H-MF-H.

He looks you all up and down, shakes his head, then says "You'll have to do I guess. Come on Halfcut is expecting you. Follow me."

In silence he leads you through the narrow and winding streets of Delverton. Late as it is the streets still throng with people. Mostly drunken delvers carousing as if on a festival day. Although, there are some who seem more grim as they march through the streets. The town Guard on their patrols for one, the frequent mail clad parties of Dwarves who stomp past in dour groups of seven, and the sinister Red Robed Priests who furtively scurry along in twos and threes, faces covered by hoods, leaning on their pulsing Runestaves. Grim or drunk, local or Delver they all have one thing in common. They all give your Hobbit guide a wide birth. A very wide birth.

Eventually, you find yourselves standing outside the entrance to what was once a small country tavern but is now the centre of Delverton. Over the door is hung a wooden sign with a rather morose looking blue frog painted on it. Underneath the picture, written in common it says 'The Blue Frog.'

"Not all of you," says your Hobbit guide. "Just your leaders." Then he pushes open the door and leads the way in.

Inside, the dimly-lit common room is almost empty. A very elderly looking Gremlin pushes a troll-sized broom about the floor, swearing to himself under his breath. On stage the band are packing up their instruments. The scar covered barman is wiping down the bar, and here and there, the odd drunken patron lies sprawled across a table snoring into a puddle of stale ale. In the far corner, there is a Rock Demon. He is deep in conversation with seven mail clad dwarves who stand next to a full length brass framed mirror.

"Take a seat." Says the Hobbit. He gestures to an empty table on which there is a shot glass for each of you and one very large bucket. He nods towards the Rock Demon. "Halfcut will be with you shortly." Then he stalks off to the bar.

Even by Rock Demon standards Halfcut is short and stumpy. He wears nothing but a leather baldric from which hangs a tiny sword that would be small even by fairy standards. On one hand he balances a wooden tray that the Dwarves seem very interested in. In the other he has an ornate silver hip flask that he constantly swigs from.

Even though he sways and staggers, he keeps the tray perfectly balanced. It seems they have concluded their business for all the dwarves nod assent then Halfcut offers them the tray. Each of the Dwarves takes a ring from the tray, puts it on and one by one they step into the mirror and vanish.

Halfcut wobbles over to your table and carefully puts the tray down next to the bucket. You notice there are a number of rings still on the tray. Each of them is made from blue wood and carved to look like a frog with its mouth open.

"Greetings!" He slurs, eyes crossed, grin inane. "Mystic Mog told me to expect you. She said you come seeking adventure. Pretty easy prediction if you ask me." He hiccups. "Greetings!" He scratches his head. "Did I already say that?" He swigs from his flask then fills each of your classes with a clear liquid before holding the flask over the bucket. The liquid runs out in a steady stream. As the bucket begins to fill Halfcut gets down to business.

"The thing about dungeons and delving is that well, it's dangerous. You march for miles through the countryside, dealing with all those pesky wilderness encounters, only to find that when you get to the dungeon entrance you've forgotten your favourite sword or brought the wrong kind of hireling. Wouldn't it be good if you could just I dunno, say, just get straight to and from the dungeon in the blink of an eye. Would that be good? Wouldn't that be worth something?

"Getting to the dungeon is just the start of your problems though. What if one of you gets wounded or worse what if someone is killed?"

There is a small popping sound. A faint tingle of magic in the air. One of the blue frog rings suddenly appears a few inches above the tray. It drops onto it with a rattle.

"Wouldn't it be neat if you could get that dying friend, that wounded fellow straight to safety, directly to somewhere they could get help? Wouldn't that be worth something? Then you're in the dungeon, your comrades are dropping left right and centre, and all of a sudden you're outnumbered. Wouldn't it be handy if you could get reinforcements straight to the dungeon, instant replacements for wounded or dead comrades?"

Two more rings warp into existence and fall onto the tray.

"What would that be worth? Then imagine the scene, you hit paydirt the mother load, the treasure room to end all treasure rooms! As much gold as you can carry! But ain't that the problem? Who can carry much gold? Especially weighed down with all those weapons. Say, wouldn't it be great if you could just bring a load back, then head right back in there and ferry another load out? Wow. Imagine what that would be worth?"

Finally his bucket is full. He puts the stopper back in his hip flask and clips it to his baldric.

"Drink, drink." He says, gesturing to your glasses.

He is very charismatic. You are all very inexperienced. Foolishly you accept his offer and take the drink. Very charismatic.

You all feel imbued with a sense of wellbeing and positivity. What's more, everything Halfcut has said makes sense. Perfect sense. All that would be worth a lot. A hell of a lot.

A glint of satisfaction in his eyes, Halfcut drains the bucket empty in one mammoth gulp.

Another ring appears and drops onto the tray.

"In extreme emergencies there's always the exit manoeuvre. What's that you say? Well it's simple enough. In the normal course of events you put the rings on and all go through the mirror to whatever adventure awaits. If there are unfortunate fatalities the rings come back here and another of your company can put the ring on and go through the mirror. They'll appear wherever the other ring bearers are. Now if things go well, all you have to do is find a quiet place form a circle and each Delver twists the ring of the Delver to his left."

Two more rings drop onto the tray.

"But if things don't go so well, if you need out in a hurry, well then there's the exit manoeuvre. It's very simple you just twist your own ring . . ."

Before Halfcut can finish there is a flash of sorcerous power and the room fills with the smell of sulphur. At least you hope it's sulphur.

Halfcut carries on as if this is perfectly natural.

" . . . and say the simple charm . . ."

"I'm a wus! I'm a wus! I'm a wus! Get me outta here!" Screams the panic stricken dwarf who suddenly appears in the middle of the common room frantically twisting at the ring on his finger. Crimson faced he stalks over to Halfcut.

"Well?" says Halfcut. "What's it to be?"

The Dwarf takes the ring off and places it on the tray with the others. Then with cold, soulless eyes, he shuffles out of the tavern. Halfcut smiles.

"It's always good doing business," he says and pours you each another drink. "Now, I take it you're all men and women of honour and you speak on behalf of your fellows outside?"

He's very charismatic and you all nod as he slides the fresh drinks over to you.

"Good, now about the price, oh sorry, drink, drink."

You all drink, You all feel very . . . very, upbeat about everything.

"The price," says Halfcut. "Is a very reasonable 10% of all treasure accrued. If you agree to this price, and all the other conditions all you have to do is put on a ring."

He picks up the tray and offers it to you. "Put on a ring." He says, suddenly terse and business like.

You all put on a ring. No matter how small, or large, slender or stumpy the finger each of you feels the ring bite tight. A perfect fit.

Outside, the rest of the company are just a little surprised when, in a pop of magic, each of them finds themselves wearing a natty little wooden frog ring. "Wow," says one of them. "They must be doing good. They got us magic rings already!"

Back inside, Halfuct is looking very pleased with himself.

"Good. I'm glad that's settled. Oh, just one other little, teeny-weeny thing. If you take the rings off, then I'm afraid you forfeit your mortal soul. Still, not to worry. I'm sure everything will work out fine. Anyway it's been a long day, I'm sure you'll all want to rest. Which reminds me, we have rooms, 250 Gp's per person, per night. Only the best will do for my clients. Too rich for you? Never mind, you best run along, I suppose you'll be wanting to explain the deal to the rest of your company. Come back bright and early tomorrow and I'll look into the mirror and find you something suitable."

You all thank him and leave in high spirits. High spirits which seem to fade as soon as you step outside onto the cold, dark streets of Delverton.

"Well?" Says one of the others. "What happened?"

*The Rock Demon turned up but, no you're right he didn't say "let the adventure begin!" But he definitely will in the next post . . . No doubt about it.

Now, make a 4th lvl SR on IQ. If you make it you can skip to the end of the next post and go straight to the bit where the Rock Demon says . . . "let the adventure begin!" If you failed, then . . .

. . . read on . . .

[mahrundl]

Nice stuff, zendog! I look forward to seeing what they end up doing!

The little homages and side references are a nice touch.

Anyway, have an Exalt!

[zendog]

mahrundl said:

Nice stuff, zendog! I look forward to seeing what they end up doing!

The little homages and side references are a nice touch.

Anyway, have an Exalt!

Cheers. I enjoyed seeding it with a few bits of solo history. I'mlooking forward to running this.

[mahrundl]

I'm looking forward to reading about it!