Torland Maps

Following on the same format from my Erdland maps, now that we've completed our look at Torland, we can now present a complete map of my interpretation of the inner world for The Saga of the Ortegids.

Click here to enlarge

Click here to enlarge

Friday Encounter: Archimedes's Well

Here's a simple two-room puzzle designed to be slotted into a larger dungeon. This one is based on Archimedes's principle that an object displaces water equal to its mass, and attempts to simplify these physics for the sake of gameplay. Keep in mind that the intended solution to this puzzle may not be obvious unless your players are familiar with the theorem, although there are alternative solutions as well.

There should be one room in the dungeon with a large well in the center of the floor. The well drops a distance of about 200 feet before coming to standing water. Looking into the well reveals that a golden crown is floating atop the water, its surface reflecting light off any torches or lanterns, but it's far too deep to be reached from the surface.

A short distance away from the well is a pile of stones of various sizes. The third feature of the room is a door leading to the north (or whatever direction you want, it isn't important). On the wall opposite the door is a chipped, faded mural of a naked man holding his fists high in triumph, with the word "EUREKA" written over his head.

The intended solution to this puzzle is for the PCs to drop stones into the well, displacing enough water to lift the crown up to where it can be reached. They need to raise the water level a total of 200 feet in order to retrieve the crown.

However, they must do this without making too much noise, or they risk alerting an ogre who resides in the room to the north. When the PCs first enter the room, the ogre is asleep, and the sound of his snoring can be heard if one listens at the door. He's sleeping too soundly to be woken by normal conversation or footsteps. However, if the party makes any loud noises, or isn't careful in how they drop the stones, he will wake up and charge into the room.

If the PCs drop stones into the well, the water level rises by an amount of feet equal to the weight of the stone. They can use any combination of the stones to raise the crown, but every time they drop one, they must make a Stealth check; the ogre is alerted if the check fails.

The pile contains:

• Five 20-pound stones (DC 25; requires two hands to carry)
• Eight 15-pound stones (DC 20; requires two hands to carry)
• Ten 10-pound stones (DC 15)
• Fifteen 5-pound stones (DC 10)
• Twenty 1-pound stones (DC 5)

If the PCs wish to appraise the crown, a DC 15 Nature check will reveal that it appears to be worth 1000 GP. However, if the check passes by a value of 25 or more, it will be determined that the gold of the crown is actually mixed with silver, cutting the value down to 500 GP. Alternatively, you could use the crown for another puzzle elsewhere in the dungeon, such as putting it on the head of a statue to open a door.

Many players might attempt to solve this puzzle through alternative means, such as levitating into the well or using spider climb to scale the walls. Use your judgment to determine how this should be addressed - you should reward PCs for thinking outside the box, not punish them for not guessing what you wanted them to do.

Optionally, if you're worried about PCs getting into the well, you can have a water weird at the bottom, lurking in the water. It lays dormant as long as the PCs stay out of the well, but will come to life and attack if they enter it.

Rhone

The setting for the climactic confrontation of Dragon Quest II is Rhone, a highland region in the center of Torland's Southern Continent under the control of Hargon, high priest of a cult that worships Malroth, the god of chaos and destruction. There's a few things that make this area unique and interesting, and they deserve a closer look - in no small part because they raise questions that might elucidate further worldbuilding in The Saga of the Ortegids.

Rhone appears to be coterminous and/or synonymous with the Plateau of Rendarak, suggesting this is the predominant geographical feature of the realm. That's certainly supported by the geography - it's ringed by high mountains, so high that in the game it can only be reached through a complex system of caves winding up the mountains to the south. I'd likely add other means to access Rhone for a more open-ended campaign, but the Road to Rhone, as it's been dubbed, is infamously a long, circuitous maze-like dungeon, with corridors that loop back on each other and pits that force players to backtrack from a lower floor. In a video game, this is tiresome and frustrating, but it would be easy to translate to a megadungeon if one was so inclined. Thanks to the pits, it's even Jacquayed! Check out the maps at Dragon's Den for an in-depth explanation.

The Plateau itself, notably, is the only snowy area in the game (and, indeed, in the entire Erdrick Trilogy), likely due to its position high in the mountains. We can then surmise that Rendarak is a high tableland, and the elevation leaves it notably colder than the lowlands at its feet. Perhaps it would look something like the Tibetan Plateau in terms of geography and climate, or at least parts of it would. Since there are no other areas with such wintery terrain, it's reasonable to assume that the Plateau of Rendarak is the highest point of Torland.

And with that in mind, we must confront the implications this has on the metaphysics of our setting. On a conventional globe, it makes sense that a high-altitude tableland would be so cold, as the atmosphere is thinner the higher off the ground you get, and thus doesn't distribute heat as well. But remember, we're working off the conceit that, since Alefgard is accessed through a pit in Dragon Quest III and the Trilogy consistently shows it to have no day-night cycle, Torland is located on the hollow interior of the planet, with a central inner sun. If this sun works the way ours does, you'd expect that it would be warmer at high elevations, since these would be closer to the innermost part of the planet, and thus the sun.

In order for Rhone to make sense, we must assume that the inner sun gives off light, but not heat - which makes sense, because it seems to be connected in some way to the Sphere of Light. Furthermore, the physics of Torland don't appear to work by conventional means, as in DQ3 it's shown to be capable of supporting life and vegetation even when it has no sun at all. Torlandic physics, then, may simply hold that plants are capable of growing without photosynthesis and higher altitudes are colder just because.

Look, it's a pulpy sword and sorcery setting. Scientific accuracy takes a backseat to what makes for fantastic adventure.

With all that out of the way, I'd like to address the sociological and political situation in Rhone, because that is also quite interesting. In later Dragon Quest games, and much of the broader canon of Japanese fantasy they inspired, "monsters" are something of a race, or a category of races; despite their heterogenous appearances and abilities, they all share a vaguely-defined nature, and are uniformly aligned with the game's villain. They seem to be contrasted in this way against humans, who are almost always on the side of good - criminals tend to be background characters or roguish antiheroes. This is quite different from D&D, where the idea of a "monster" does not exist outside of game mechanics, and there is not much in common between, say, a skeleton and a gryphon.

But this distinction does not appear to be present in the Erdrick Trilogy - we don't really see the idea of monsters as a monolith come up in the games themselves until IV. And Hargon's forces seem to consist mainly of humans. Many of DQ2's enemies, and almost all of those who are explicitly tied to Hargon's cult, are various forms of cultists and magicians. Furthermore, Rhone is far more civilized than you'd expect from a land of monsters. Hargon has a castle, and there's a temple there staffed by a human priest that functions much like the temples in towns. Consider also that the plot of DQ2 is kicked off when Rhone invades Moonbrooke and destroys its capital. If Rhone is able to wage open war against a powerful kingdom, it must have an army.

To control a cult as large and powerful as his is, Hargon must be a charismatic leader indeed, but I feel like that wouldn't explain all the resources Rhone has at its disposal. What seems more likely to me is that Rhone is, or was, itself a kingdom, but was usurped and taken control of by the Children of Hargon. Hargon is, then, a political leader, not just a spiritual one.

If one wishes to run a more gritty and realistic take on the setting, Rhone would likely have legitimate grievances that the Children of Hargon looked like a solution to. An entire country wouldn't start openly serving a world-devouring god that easily (there are some hilarious jokes I could be making right now, but I don't discuss real-world politics on this blog). And I think there's something we could look at with the fact that Moonbrooke is Rhone's first target.

It could just be a matter of proximity, since Moonbrooke is directly to the north of Rhone. But there may have been some existing tension between the two kingdoms. Given Rhone's more inhospitable climate and inaccessibility, it's likely it wouldn't have been as rich, fertile, or influential as its northern neighbor. The Rhonesmen may have been Moonbrooker vassals at some point in history, and this could have led to resentment among the populace, who felt they were forced to answer to foreign crowns (especially considering that the ruling house of Moonbrooke is of Alefgardic and Aliahanian descent, not anything native to the region). Hargon offered the people the possibility of self-determination and independence - a chance to be powerful enough to throw off the yoke of Ortegid oppression. And that made his ultimate goal of summoning Malroth an easier pill to swallow. Since my Moonbrooke is based on Sweden, I think it works quite nicely to have Rhone culturally analogous to Finland in this scenario, fitting the terrain and the fact that they're neighbors of the Ortegid kingdoms but lack a common heritage.

I'm not doing this to pull a Wicked and portray Hargon as a misunderstood well-intentioned extremist. He still wants to summon a god of destruction to destroy existence as we know it. But he needed a base of power in order to do so, and - as cult leaders are wont to do - he could tell the people what they wanted to hear so that they would give that power to him.

A final note on Hargon: he has blue skin and fangs, and this is never really explained. The game never gives any indication as to what he is. For that reason, I would run him as a tiefling. The proper tieflings with non-standardized appearances and randomized demonic traits, thank you very much. I'm very much a proponent that demons in general should be Boschian creatures of chaos that come in all shapes and sizes, with no two being alike. That should go for tieflings too.

This concept opens up some fun prospects for campaigns. If Hargon was holding the people of Rhone together, we are presented with the question of what would happen after his death at the end of DQ2. There would be a power vacuum, and all manner of factions would have reasons to get involved. Who is next in line to lead the Children of Hargon - and would they really believe in the cult's dogma, or merely go through the motions as a way to hold power over the people already in its thrall? If the latter, is this motivated by self-interest, or a genuine desire to uplift the people of Rhone through the only means anyone knows how? Would a resurgent Moonbrooke set its sights again on Rhone, especially after it nearly brought the kingdom to its end? What do the Rhonesmen think of that? There's a lot of fascinating questions here, just begging to throw the PCs into head-first.

Beran

The southwestern corner of Dragon Quest II's overworld features a large island off the coast of Tuhn, on which is the city of Beran. There's no major quests or dungeons here, but it is an evocative area that deserves a closer look for The Saga of the Ortegids.

Beran is located at the center of a lake, and much of the town appears to be built on top of a series of bridges and platforms. The first thing that comes to my mind here is Laketown from The Hobbit, which I've always found to be an intriguing setting. Helpfully, I have the Middle-Earth Roleplaying sourcebook on Laketown, and though I've used it for a similar floating city in the Lunar Lands, it could just as easily be reskinned as Beran.

Beran is a rather large town, with multiple shops and facilities, so it would seem to be a major economic center for the region. Perhaps its location on the lake may play a role in this, as it would be easy for ships to transport goods from the shore - but, at the same time, it also provides a natural defense that would allow Beran to become a citadel in times of war.

We don't see a king in Beran - there is a save point, which in Dragon Quest is usually the function of a king, but here it's located at the house of a hermit living in an island to the northwest of town. It would've been easy to make this a king if the developers so wanted, but for whatever reason they didn't. For this reason, I think it's safe to say that Beran is not a capital city. However, unlike Tuhn, I think it's a reasonable assumption that the city would in fact be part of a greater kingdom. The geography of the island seems conducive to large-scale settlement, with a long accessible coast in the south, wide open plains, and access to freshwater sources. I'd argue that it makes sense for there to be other settlements on the island, all answering to the same monarch - we just don't see them, or the capital, because they doesn't offer anything of value to the characters' journey.

Art by John Hodgson

Much like Hanguo, this offers me the chance to flex my creative muscles a bit. I've chosen to invent the Kingdom of Escar - yes, as in Esgaroth - occupying this southwestern island, much like Dirkandor in the east. It's likely a prominent regional power, as it's quite distant from any other kingdom (and thus would lack competition) and has enough land and resources to be self-sufficient. Escar might send ships to trade with ports in the Tuhn region and the Southern Archipelago, but any other kingdoms that could match it in power and wealth are quite far away.

Beran is bounded by a large desert and mountains, which would make communication with the northern half of the kingdom difficult. Either the capital is near the coast, and of a similarly mercantile nature, or it's in the northern part of the island. The northern part certainly has enough plains to support agriculture and settlement, but I feel it would be hard for a kingdom to control territory if its capital was in an inaccessible region. Thus, I'd argue that the capital of Escar is likely quite close to Beran, which would give it access to seafaring trade routes.

In fact, that might explain why Beran is built on a lake - perhaps it was originally intended as a citadel that people from the capital could retreat to if attacked. It may have developed into a separate city over time, or we may be seeing it in such a function. Maybe the reason we don't see the capital is because it's been evacuated. Note that the capital of Moonbrooke is razed at the start of DQ2, and a martime power like Escar would likely catch wind of this through traders and sailors. It's possible that the people of the capital fled here when they heard the news in case they were targeted next.

If the Escarian capital is located in the north, then Beran would likely exert a considerable amount of power due to its wealth and its distance from the capital. It may be a de facto independent city, even if it formally answers to a king who has no way of controlling it. This could lead to a rivalry between the cities, which could allow for faction play.

A third option is that the northern half of the island is controlled by a separate kingdom than the one that controls Beran. As I said beforehand, both halves could support a state, and the mountains and desert form a believable natural boundary. As the northern half is more mountainous and has little access to the sea, it's likely not as wealthy or powerful as the southern half. It's noteworthy that the random encounter list for the island includes both orcs and orc chieftains - the northern part, whether a separate kingdom or a wild frontier, may be populated by beastmen.

The main function Beran serves in the game is the portal there, which serves as the only point of entrance to Rhone, the endgame area. It's a bit interesting why Beran would have this. Perhaps it maintained relations with Rhone at one point - it would make communication easier, given how mountainous and inhospitable the path to Rhone is. Or maybe Beran is built over the ruins of a portal shrine that once linked Escar and Rhone.

Tuhn

South of Moonbrooke and the Lianport region, the Southern Continent of Dragon Quest II's overworld is highly mountainous. The central region forms the Plateau of Rendarak, a high snow-capped tableland that appears to be even higher in elevation than the surrounding mountains that make it inaccessible until the end of the game. But even if we look around the Plateau, we can see several mountains surrounding Wellgarth to the south, and a complex system of mountain ranges to the northwest, where we find the city of Tuhn.

Tuhn is the only settlement in this area detailed in the game, and it does not have any king or other local authority. I don't suspect that it's part of a larger kingdom, either - it's likely an independent city-state. The area around it is a maze of cliffs and valleys, which would make it quite difficult to project power from any capital. Rather, I would imagine this is Torland's "points of light" region. The difficult terrain makes it difficult to establish any major states, so the area is a patchwork of free cities, petty duchies, and tribes of barbarians, bandits, and beastmen (funnily enough, enemies in this area do indeed include orcs and hostile warriors). Every valley may well have a distinct culture quite unlike its neighbors. There's shades of Vance in this, and it could easily provide fodder for an exploration-driven campaign if the party travels from one valley to another, encountering new and strange discoveries in each. It would also provide an easy way into domain play, since the lack of major regional powers would mean the PCs would face little resistance if they wished to carve out their own.

The other major geographical feature of the Tuhn region is an extensive system of waterways - no doubt fed by the mountains. Most of these can be navigated by boat, which may be the most efficient way to travel from one valley to another if the mountains block overland travel. See Death on the Reik from Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay if you want to see how a campaign could be structured around river travel. Because Tuhn itself is located on a river, it's likely a prominent trade center, and may be wealthier than other towns in the area, since it has access to other ports along the water. Those villages more inland, however, may be forced to live a self-sufficient existence.

Notably, in the game, the stretch of the river by Tuhn is dried up because a thief has stolen the key to the town floodgate. This is mostly an issue because it blocks your access to the Tower of the Moon, a tower where a wizard guards a fragment of the moon. It's interesting how this got here, given that Torland is a hollow earth with no day and night, and presumably no moon - perhaps it's for that reason why it's such a rare and prized artifact.

However, you would think that the people would be more concerned about the river drying up. Not only would it limit Tuhn's access to other towns along the river system, it would also deprive people of fresh water, seafood (fish was a reliable source of food for many medieval cities), and irrigation. If I was running a similar scenario, I would likely emphasize the effects of being cut off from the river on the town, with the people risking drought and economic ruin. This would give such a quest more urgency.

Also in Tuhn is the workshop of Don Mohame, a legendary weaver; if provided with the right tools, he can sew a robe made of water, protecting the wearer against fire, ice, and magic. This is an optional sidequest, but I love the folkloric feel of a craftsman so skilled he can create items that are physically impossible. Also, he's a good example of how you can throw a unique NPC with special skills and services unavailable anywhere else somewhere in the campaign world to serve as a resource.

Art by Scott Pelico

Culturally, I would imagine the Tuhn region as being something like Switzerland, befitting its nature as a decentralized region of small scattered settlements separated by mountains. With that in mind, my previous writing on the Freikantons might provide some inspiration.

Friday Encounter: Tithe Collection

This encounter is designed to challenge your players' expectations of morality and social expectations in a setting that may have different worldviews from their own. In that way, it's well-suited to a non-Flintstonist campaign, as a way to introduce players to the concept that people in a medieval fantasy world might see things differently than they see things today - especially with players who are new to the idea of leaving their preconceived notions at the door when approaching the campaign world. Keep in mind, though, that it's best if the players know this is a non-Flintstonist world going in, so that they aren't punished for making sensible choices.

The encounter should happen in a settled area in a feudal state. The PCs should pass by a small homestead, with ragged crops and a slumping roof. Outside, the farmer, Petro Barisic, is holding onto a young heifer by a rope, and is engaged in a heated debate with an armored woman, Mirta Pavlovic, who wears the arms of the local lord on her tabard, and faces Petro with a stern and unflinching glare as she keeps her hand on the pommel of the sword on her belt.

Mirta is a woman-at-arms in the employ of the local lord who oversees this steading. She has demanded that Petro give up the heifer as a tithe to the lord's coffers. Petro rejects this, citing that he has little to his name, and his cow is getting old; he was hoping to raise the heifer to take her place so that he can provide butter and cheese for his family. However, Mirta insists that the lord's word is absolute. If Petro will not turn over the heifer by the next week, his family will be evicted from the land.

Most players will naturally see Petro as the victim in this situation, and will be inclined to take his side.  His story is a truthful one. However, in a setting that believes in the divine right of the nobility, to contest the lord's demands - especially if the PCs are not of noble birth, or are foreigners - would be considered insubordination, and threaten the stability of the fief. The party might try to seek an audience with the lord in order to plead Petro's case, but it will likely not be easy to convince a noble that he should care for the plight of a single peasant, when he has armies to supply and treaties to negotiate with his neighbors, who may or may not be friendly. Petro's concerns are well beneath him.

Some parties might even try to incite open rebellion against the lord, but they should not expect to do so without facing stiff resistance, as the lord has more resources than they do. If they try to go up against the lord alone, they are up against whatever armies he can muster - to say nothing of any allies he might call upon from other fiefs and baronies. And even if his seat on the throne is threatened, the ensuing power vacuum might not be a step up - it might destabilize the region, or worse, lead to an even worse tyrant taking over.

The purpose of this encounter is not to punish the PCs for doing the right thing, and beat into the players' heads that everything they do is hopeless. It should still be theoretically possible to come out with an outcome that Petro will be satisfied by - perhaps they can sway the lord with careful rhetoric, or find a suitable substitute for the heifer, or even find a way to allow Petro to keep it under his master's nose. But by having such dilemmas come up in play and exploring the realistic consequences of how the PCs address them, you can give the players a firsthand look into how this isn't a world that will work the way their own life does, and prove that they shouldn't expect it to.