Friday Encounter: Burn the Goat!

A bit of a belated Christmas special for this week's Friday Encounter. It's designed to have the PCs come upon it while traveling on the road, but with some tweaks could work for a settlement they're stationed in already. The encounter is themed around the real-life phenomena of the Gavle goat, and thus is well-suited to coincide with Midwinter or another winter holiday, but it would work just as well as a local festival on any date.

Burn the Goat!

Background

Centuries ago, the town of Gevalia was terrorized by a ferocious demon by the name of Degdrolan, who devoured the livestock, blighted the crops, and set fire to the peoples' homes for no reason but spite for mortals. No weapon forged could harm the demon, so the people were forced to make a grim bargain in order to spare themselvs his ire. Each year, before the coming of Midwinter, the people would sacrifice a goat in the town square so that the demon's bloodlust would be sated, and they would know another year of peace.

Many years have passed since that date, and the story has been forgotten by all but the most learned of sages. But the tradition continued. At first, it was customary for the people to spill the blood of a live goat in the town square - and this continued for generations after the people forgot why they were doing such a thing. But in more recent years, a new tradition grew in its place. Inspired by the sacrifices, the town's two most prominent guilds - the Brotherhood of Merry Merchants and the League of Free Brewers - would each compete to build a massive goat sculpture from straw, striving to outdo the other in size and majesty.

Every year since this tradition began, however, one or both of the goats has been burned down before Midwinter - whether from strife between the rival guilds, mere accident, or the mischief of wayward youths. By sheer coincidence, this practice has successfully kept Degdrolan at bay even long after the people forgot about him - after all, the contract between him and the town never stated that a real goat would have to be sacrificed. However, it is precisely because of how the story has fallen into obscurity that the officials are striving to stamp out the tradition of goat-burning. And if they're successful, they may be in for a rude awakening...

The Encounter

The PCs should arrive in Gevalia around two or three days before Midwinter. If you're using this encounter in a town they're already in, you can foreshadow things by having the goats be built over time in the background, or just have them be erected overnight. In any case, anyone going to the town square will undoubtedly notice the two towering straw goats built there - the Merry Merchants' goat is 40 feet tall, while the Free Brewers' is 35 feet.

Asking around, they'll hear about how the two guilds have competed to build a bigger goat every year for Midwinter, but no one really knows why. They're traded wins from year to year, and it's always been a matter of fierce competition between them. For as long as anyone can remember, however, both goats have never survived until midnight on Midwinter's Eve; someone always burns one or both of them down. The guilds are on especially high alert this year, and they have both offered substantial sums to the town guard to stand in defense of their goat. The guards feel it's a tiresome job, and would rather be at home enjoying the festivities with their families - some even feel that there's no point in protecting the goats because burning them down has become a tradition of its own at this point.

The goats are a point of pride for their respective guilds, and the PCs will likely hear of the heated rivalry between the two of them. If they pursue this lead, they may encounter Sidsel Raskova, the guildmistress of the Merry Merchants, and Jorstein Goransson, the guildmaster of the Free Brewers. Sidsel, true to her guild's name, is a jovial woman who loves the Midwinter festivities, while Jorstein is a more dour and serious man who wants only to ensure that his guild will succeed - but both of them show no affection for their rivals, and both suspect that they are plotting to burn down each other's goat. 

They may also run into Askold, the local delinquent - a youth of about 17 who leads a gang of miscreants who enjoy commiting acts of petty theft and vandalism. The gang openly claims to have burned down several goats in the past years, and considers it a badge of honor.

Lastly, there is Erland Kravitz, the burgomaster. He was elected to his position last year under a promise to clean up the town's image by cracking down on crime, and he in particular has no love for the tradition of goat-burning, believing it a disgrace to Voltan that the people expect arson to happen every year. He has no interest in playing to politics between the guilds; he only wants to make sure no goat gets burned this year, under any circumstances.

None of these characters know anything about the town's deal with Degdrolan - the people of Gevalia have long buried this, not wanting to admit to dealing with demons even if it was for their own safety. However, there is a convent devoted to Mimir, the god of knowledge, in the town, which boasts an extensive library (and also is open to shelter any travelers who can't afford a stay at the inn). Researching the history of Gevalia or its traditions at this library will reveal a record of the story in an old dusty tome.

Further Developments

Depending on how the PCs go about this encounter, they may ally with either of the guilds, Askold's gang, or the burgomaster, or they may act independently. Both of the guilds want to burn down the other's goat, but they also both know that the other guild is sponsoring the guards to watch their own. However, they realize they may be able to pin the blame on strange adventurers and escape scrutiny. If the party gets in the good graces of either guild, they will offer to pay the PCs with 50 GP each, plus one uncommon magic item for the group (choose something suited to the party, or to a character who could use one) if they are successful at burning down the other guild's goat. They will also help them escape town should they run afoul of the law.

Askold and his gang don't care about the guilds - all they want is to amuse themselves and cause mischief. At an hour before midnight, Askold intends to hide in an alleyway facing the town square with a bow and flaming arrows, which he will then fire into the goats. If the PCs agree to help him distract the guards (and not tell anyone's parents), he promises to make them official members of his gang. While the youths are a collection of orphans and unsupervised delinquents with no experience in combat to assist the party with and will not leave the town, they have picked up a good deal of rumors and know of routes to treasure or other points of interest in the area that they will only share with fellow gang members. Askold will also offer the PCs free access to his cache of stolen mead bottles, hidden under a cornerstone at the old barn on the outskirts of town the gang uses as a clubhouse.

Finally, if the PCs side with Erland and are successful at preventing any goats from being burned, the burgomaster will thank them for their aid and invite them to an official banquet, where they will each receive 100 GP and a magic item suited to their class and character, as well as having the opportunity to meet several important figures in the town and make allies of them. However, in the middle of the banquet, Degdrolan will manifest in the town square, angry that he did not receive his tribute for the year. Degdrolan has the stats of a glabrezu; a hulking demon with a shaggy coat and a face like a horned grinning skull. Just as he did years ago, he will attempt to lay waste to the town and devour anything in his path if not stopped.

Hexmas: The Gingerbread Village

It's been a while since I posted anything on this blog. Part of that is because I haven't had the time or energy to write much, and part of it is that I've run through the material I had prepared for ongoing projects like The Saga of the Ortegids and don't have anything to fill the spots I would ordinarily be using for that content. Regrettably, this means that I've been behind the curve on the blogosphere, and that means it was only just now that I discovered Hexmas, Prismatic Wasteland's challenge to make a community-sourced Christmas-themed hexcrawl. That means that I'm jumping in far later than I would like to be doing so, and up against the deadline

But I like the idea, dammit, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let an opportunity like this pass me by. A couple years ago, I made a post about how there is a glaring lack of Christmas-themed adventures inspired by E.T.A. Hoffman's The Nutcracker and the Mouse King, and this gives me the perfect excuse. I was going to do a different post today, but that can wait.

The Gingerbread Village

North: House of the Kringles

Northwest: The Grumpus

West: Candy Cane Forest

Nestled at the foot of a snow-crested mountain, amidst a grove of pines, there lies a village of gingerbread. The modest settlement is ringed by a fence of candy canes (harvested from the forest to the west), and the buildings are made from gingerbread, decorated in peppermints and frosting. The people of this village, too, belong to a race of gingerbread folk, small in stature and similar in form to the domiciles they inhabit. The gingerbread folk are usually quiet and content to bide their time peacefully, but recently, their tranquility has been threatened by the coming of a threat from the mountain - the man-eating giant Sweettooth.

The village is a simple and self-sufficient one. Most buildings are modest family homes, but there is an inn, the Royal Icing, that will shelter travelers and offer them a stiff pint of the local specialty, ginger ale. Besides the inn, the most conspicuous building in town is the house of the mayor, Mr. Adrak, a luxurious gingerbread mansion that sits amidst a garden of candy canes and gumdrops the size of trees and bushes.

Or, at least, it was, before Sweettooth last struck about two days ago, smashing the roof under a giant rock and carrying away a few of Adrak's servants. Now, the roof of the mansion is caved in, and gingerbread men are working around the clock to clear away debris and stick the roof back together using icing. The mansion has been vacated since the attack, and Adrak is now staying at the inn while he waits for his home to be repaired. His demeanor has grown bitter since the attack (even if his flavor hasn't), and he demands that something must be done about Sweettooth before any other gingerbread men are lost!

If the PCs enquire about Sweettooth, the townspeople will direct them toward the house of the town doctor, Dr. Kolobok. The doctor is currently tending to Adrak's butler, Sir Peppercake, a well-mannered gingerbread man with a handlebar mustache made of icing who was in the mansion when Sweettooth attacked but was lucky enough to escape with his life. Alas, Dr. Kolobok only knows how to treat gingerbread folk, and has no understanding of the physiology of flesh-and-blood people. He will not be able to heal or cure any ailments the PCs face, but will find them quite interesting.

If the party seeks an audience with Sir Peppercake, he will describe his terrifying encounter with the giant, who grabbed three gingerbread men and a gingerbread maid and mercilessly devoured them in front of him! Peppercake only managed to escape the attack because one of his legs broke off in Sweettooth's grasp. The doctor managed to bake him a new leg and attached it with icing, but he's been resting it before he returns to work. Despite his master's fiery temper, Peppercake doesn't have any ill will toward Sweettooth, and believes the giant is only motivated by hunger - he just wishes he would stay away from the town in his pursuit of satiating himself.

The gingerbread folk have the stats of halflings. However, since they're made of gingerbread, they're more fragile than if they were made of flesh. Attacks made against them score critical hits on a roll to hit of 15-20.

The gingerbread folk know that Sweettooth lives in a cave at the top of the mountain. If the PCs make the ascent, they will discover that a ravenous giant indeed lives there. Sweettooth has the stats of an hill giant, and has an insatiable hunger for candy and sweets. If the PCs are openly carrying any sweets, or have any gingerbread folk or similar creatures accompanying them, he will attack on sight, trying to grab the sweets and run off with his bounty. He will not attack any creatures who do not have sweets on their person, and finds them boring and uninteresting. If he is denied sweets, he cries and pounds the walls, demanding the party share their treats with him.

What the gingerbread folk do not realize is that Sweettooth is not a full-grown giant! He is, in fact, the bratty son of a family of frost giants who dwell atop the mountain. His parents, Longtooth and Sharptooth, are disinterested in disciplining the boy and pay him no heed, focused only on decorating their cave for the coming winter festivities. They will, however, come to Sweettooth's aid if the child is harmed, throwing rocks at any intruders to try and drive them away from the cave.

If Sweettooth is dealt with, the gingerbread folk will be grateful and offer the PCs a free stay at the Royal Icing whenever they are in town, with plenty of ginger ale on the house. They will also offer the forge the PCs weapons of their choice made of candy glass - on a critical hit, the weapons explode and deal an additional die of damage to all creatures in 15 feet of the target due to the showering of candy shrapnel. If this happens, the weapons are destroyed, but the gingerbread folk will be happy to make replacements. It takes 1d4 days for a candy glass weapon to be completed.

Merry Hexmas!

The Isle of the Sun

Our gazetteer of the world(s) of The Saga of the Ortegids is pretty much complete. Over the last few months, I've summarized every major region in the first three Dragon Quest games and explored their potential for TRPG scenarios. However, just today I started thinking about one small area I didn't pay any heed to before, but one that just might be more interesting than I thought.

In Dragon Quest III, upon crossing through the Pit of Giaga, you come out on a small island in the western gulf of Alefgard, directly across from Tantegel. This is the only location in this part of the game that has no counterpart in Dragon Quest I, likely because there's no sea travel in that game. On it is a small, unnamed port - there are no shops or inns here, so it's likely a small fishing village rather than a regional trade center. It's really just there to give you access to a ship while in Torland, and for this reason I overlooked it in my discussion of Alefgard.

However, one of the NPCs there asks the party if they've come from "the upper world," which indicates that the people of Torland are familiar with the existence of Erdland. To recap the cosmology I'm using for The Saga of the Ortegids, I have chosen - in part because it provides for more interesting gaming opportunities - to interpret Torland as literally being inside of a hollow Erdland, with the Pit of Giaga being an actual, physical pit connecting the two surfaces. Interestingly, the Western fandom tends to interpret the Pit of Giaga as being a portal and the worlds as separate universes, but the Japanese fandom is more equivocal about it. In any case, for Saga, it's a physical pit - which ties into my next point.

Torland (unlike Erdland) has no consistent day-night cycle and is shown to be in a state of constant night before the Sphere of Light is used for the first time in DQ3. Furthermore, the Dragonlord stealing the Sphere in DQ1 is sometimes said to cause an unending night, depending on what source you're reading (this could be metaphorical, but for me it's not). Under my interpretation, this implies that Torland had no natural light source until the Sphere of Light created one, being the inside of a hollow planet and all. So far, everything is interally consistent.

But then I realized that if the Pit of Giaga physically separates Erdland from Torland, if there's a big hole in the ground in Erdland, there must conversely be a big hole in the sky in Torland. And we do know that Erdland has a sun. Before the Sphere of Light was used, this island below the Pit of Giaga must have been the only place in Torland to receive natural light - that is, what was able to stream through the Pit when the sun was overhead.

Art by Vsevlod Ivanov
(Seriously, check his stuff out)

This likely wouldn't be enough light to illuminate all of Torland on a regular basis, but it would mean that this one island would receive direct sunlight for part of the day. In an otherwise lightless world, this would no doubt have a significant effect on the local culture. Perhaps the locals of this island, even if they know of the existence of an upper world, don't realize how a natural sun really works, and view this light as a divine phenomenon. This would transform the Isle of the Sun, as I've called it, into a natural choice for a holy site, with cults springing up around the light and adherents making pilgrimages to witness it.

With this in mind, perhaps the port we see in DQ3 isn't the only settlement on the island - perhaps there is another city that serves as the center of this sun cult, and we just don't see it in-game because there was nothing useful for gameplay or narrative purposes there. Given the Norse vibes of Torland in general and Alefgard in particular, let's call this city Sollenborg. While ostensibly a subject of the Alefgardic crown, it would be an autonomous power headed by a cult worshiping the sun, with the priesthood holding local positions of authority.

Art by Noah Bradley

In a campaign set in Torland before the events of DQ3, this city could be a curiosity for the party to investigate, or a regional power given its apparent blessed nature. It would also offer another religion to add to the worldbuilding of the setting. Also, one of the easiest ways to kill vampires in a pre-sun Torland. I also find it interesting to think about how even in a magical fantasy world, there would still be perfectly natural phenomena that are misinterpreted as miracles.

I also think it's interesting to consider what might happen to Sollenborg after the events of DQ3. Surely the sun cult would lose quite a bit of its authority with the Sphere of Light providing constant sunlight. This could lead to a crisis of faith for its adherents - and perhaps the more worldly of the cult's authorities, fearful of losing power, might be jealous of what the Sphere provides and covet it for themselves. You could also probably tell an interesting side-story about how the sun cult would handle the Dragonlord's theft of the Sphere. If Alefgard was suddenly deprived of its sunlight, the cult would have something unique to offer the people, who would surely grow desperate in such a time.

Friday Encounter: Haunted Inn

This encounter is to be used if the PCs decide to stop at an inn, whether that be along the road or in a town. It should ideally be an inn that the party isn't familiar with.

When the party asks about rooms, the innkeeper gives their normal rates of 2 SP per room, but mentions that there is one particular room that guests can stay in for free. The reason? The room is said to be haunted, with guests reporting hearing strange whispers and feeling drafts that seem to come from nowhere. One guest even reported finding ectoplasm on the walls not too long ago. In addition to the strange phenomena observed in the room, it seems that anyone who stays in the room is stricken by misfortune; in the last year alone, two of the guests who stayed there fell ill and died, and a third was cut down by highwaymen. Regulars of the inn are also familiar with the rumors, and may have their own stories to tell, but none of them have ever stayed in the room - they wouldn't dare risk it.

Still, it's a free room, and it may well be something worth investigating. In my experience, dangling the prospect of a haunting in front of the PCs will encourage them to look deeper into it far more often than it will scare them away. If the PCs ask for the room, the innkeeper will allow them to have it for free, but not without attempting to talk them out of it.

The haunted room has two beds and meager amenities, with little more than a wardrobe for storing clothes, an end table with a lantern on it, and a rug strewn over the floor. Compared to other rooms in the inn, the haunted room is clearly unkempt - the sheets are askew, and there is dust built up on the furniture. The staff are wary of the haunting and avoid the room whenever possible.

The room is indeed haunted by the ghost of a tax collector named Uther von Gerholdt, who stopped at the inn some thirty years ago. The innkeeper, Holger Kunze, is a stingy, paranoid man who knew Uther's reputation as a shrewd professional who always collected his share, no matter how his clients attempted to get out of paying. Unwilling to part with his money, and feeling squeezed by the local nobles, Holger gave Uther a tankard of ale drugged with a powerful sedative, and, when he grew drowsy, offered him a bed at the inn so he could sleep off his stupor for the night. When Uther fell asleep, Holger stabbed him to death and buried his body under the cellar.

However, since Uther was fast asleep when he died, he doesn't actually realize that he's dead, or that years have passed since his murder. He believes it to still be the night that he visited the inn - and thus, he views guests as trying to barge in and invade his privacy. His anger subconsciously manifests as the effects observed in the room, trying to drive "intruders" out.

Uther's ghost cannot be seen or heard directly by those staying in the inn. However, using a see invisibility spell will detect the flickering figure of a man in fine clothes lurching about the room. One can perform a seance using a contact other plane spell, a spirit board, or other means to communicate with the ghost. Uther will tell them of the events leading up to his death, but admits his memory is hazy due to being so drunk.

PCs who spend the night in the room are able to gain the benefits of a short rest, but they hear shuffling, whispering, and moaning through the night, preventing them from getting the full benefits of a long rest. Additionally, the DM should have some form of misfortune befall any PCs that spent the night in the haunted room. This is up to their discretion, but it should target those PCs specifically - a powerful enemy might take a special interest in them, or they may be stricken with a mysterious illness with no apparent cause. Once this event occurs, they are no longer haunted and no longer suffer misfortune.

Holger suspects that the rumors of the ghost is related to the murder he committed years ago, but will adamantly deny any involvement and takes great pains to cover his tracks. In fact, he's deliberately played up the rumors of the haunting, making sure to tell any guests the story to try and scare them away from staying in that room just in case Uther gives them any clues. If the PCs are able to discover the truth, however, they may seek proof.

Holger keeps the basement of the inn locked at all times with a key he wears around his neck; it is a DC 15 check with thieves' tools to pick this lock. The basement has a rammed earth floor; if the PCs spend an hour digging in the basement, they will unearth Uther's skeleton, still wearing the signet ring of a tax collector in service to the local nobility. This task can be divided among multiple PCs - two characters digging will unearth the skeleton in 30 minutes, three will unearth it in 20 minutes, and so on.

If presented with the body, Holger will have no choice but to confess to his crimes, and will be hanged by the local guard. It is up to the DM what happens to the inn now that it has no owner. If the party needs a base of operations, this could be an opportunity to give them one.

With his killer brought to justice, Uther will move on to the Land of the Dead. He appears before the party one last time to apologize for any trouble he caused and to thank them for their aid before leaving them his signet ring. It can be sold for 50 GP, and could be used to forge official documents. Additionally, due to the residual ghostly energies permeating the ring, characters wearing it will automatically succeed on their next death save, but the ring breaks afterward and can no longer be used. Staying in the room from then on no longer carries any ill effects.

Friday Encounter: Fallen Star

This encounter definitely isn't for everyone, and that's okay. It introduces elements of science fiction into the campaign, which might work in a setting that trends more gonzo or isn't afraid to mix genres, but would probably be about as jarring as a brick to the face in a campaign with a more mythic or purely fantastic tone. But the beauty of D&D, as I've outlined before, is that it can do both - and my recent discussions on sci-fi put it in my head. This isn't an encounter I would use in my typical campaigns, but maybe it would work for you.

This encounter is best used in the wilderness, but it could also work on the road or in a more settled area. It probably has the most potential if used in a low-tech setting - most medieval fantasy settings would qualify, but in a campaign that already trends toward science fiction, it could be used on an underdeveloped backwater planet. The idea is to put advanced technology into the hands of the PCs, and explore how that impacts the world around them.

The PCs should ideally hear rumors of a comet sighted in the vicinity - a bright light in the night sky that went shrieking toward the ground, after which a great tremor was felt through the earth. Or the PCs might observe such a phenomenon themselves and decide to investigate.

Either way, if the PCs decide to investigate the site where the "star" was said to have fallen, they will discover a strange mass of smoking twisted metal, about the size of a large carriage, lying in a crater. It appears to be a machine of some sort, but using mechanisms and components beyond anything they've seen before. There is a door on the machine - it is bent and warped, but a DC 10 Athletics check can be used to force the door open; this check can be made with Advantage if a PC has a crowbar or another object that could be used to wedge it open.

If the door is opened, the PCs will discover a compartment inside where two skeletons of an unknown humanoid race are seated before an array of lights and switches, dressed in strange and tattered attire. Further investigation will yield documents in an indecipherable language. Using comprehend language will determine that these are orders from the "Ashtar Galactic Command" to patrol the "Omicron-92 Sector" to protect against "piracy and incursions from the Lidarian Federation;" if the players press further, make up more contextless sci-fi sounding jargon as needed. Furthermore, each of the skeletons is carrying a holster at their hip containing a pistol-like device; another such device, like an oddly-shaped arquebus, is located in a cache behind them.

The "falling star" was in fact an alien spaceship that crash-landed on the campaign world - and left its advanced technology behind. The pistols are laser pistols, and the other gun is a laser rifle (see the Dungeon Master's Guide section on firearms). You can also throw in other advanced technological devices for the PCs to plunder if you wish. These don't have to be anything fancy - for example, a device that can create a flame at the press of the button without the need for fuel (ie, a lighter) would be an incredible treasure in a world where fires are lit by flint and steel.

In a typical medieval fantasy world, these weapons will be more powerful than most mundane weapons available - but on the flip side, no one will be familiar with what they are or how to use them, and the PCs must discover their properties through trial and error. They will also likely be quite valuable if the PCs can find the right buyer - a feudal lord or bandit chief with access to such power would be nearly uncontested. However, that same value could easily paint a target on the PCs if knowledge spreads that they are carrying such items.

For a variation on this encounter, perhaps the PCs aren't the first to get to the crash site. Maybe the ship has landed near a town, and the people have already salvaged its technology - if so, the party might hear rumors of people armed with powerful "magical" devices that they guard fiercely. Or the devices might already be in the hands of entities hostile to the party. Either way, it's unlikely that they'd give such things back without a fight.

And if you really want to shake the campaign up, perhaps the ship's employers might come back looking for it...

Friday Encounter: Interrupted Summoning

This encounter could be used in a dungeon, at a site in the wilderness, or maybe even in a town - preferably in some run-down house tucked away in a dark alley out of sight. You may want to plant rumors in the surrounding areas of strange robed figures gathering and chanting heard in the vicinity if you wish to lead your players to investigate.

Background

The Brotherhood of the Scarlet Palm is a cult of demon worshipers, seeking to contact Hell in order to negotiate with demons for earthly power. It was not long ago that they first began meeting in secret under the leadership of a disgruntled merchant named Vladislav Mikhailov, who, upon facing numerous failed business ventures, decided to summon a demon in order to guarantee him financial success. However, Vladislav's resources were limited, and he did not have access to arcane knowledge, having to cobble together his notes from a few scattered texts. This resulted in his cult performing a few botched and ineffective rituals, but they remained desperate enough to keep trying.

Through some miracle, Vladislav finally managed to contact a demon - a pit fiend by the name of Ag'draluun the Tormentor - a few days ago, and set to summon him into the mortal plane to discuss a deal. He set a protective circle over the ground, burned some candles, and read some incantations. Through this, Vladislav was able to open a portal to Ag'draluun's domain - but the ritual did not work according to plan. The cultists were able to form a portal, but not one big enough to accomodate such a hulking creature. Now, Ag'draluun is trapped partway in and partway out of the portal - and the cultists are in the middle of trying to get it to open the rest of the way.

The Encounter

The party should come upon Vladislav's circle to find three cultists standing at the points of a triangle inscribed on the ground, surrounded by a rim of candles that burn with violet flames. They have their heads bowed low and are chanting. At the center of the circle, suspended in the air, is what appears to be a rift in reality. It appears like a hole in a tapestry opening into an orange glow, but floats in midair above the ground. The portal gives off an intense heat, and flames can be seen flickering around it. Every so often, a huge clawed arm, covered in black scales like cracked magma, emerges from the portal, flailing around, and muffled cursing in Infernal can be heard.

One square equals five feet.

There are five other cultists gathered before the circle, watching; Vladislav stands behind them, flipping through a book at a hurried pace. It should be obvious that he is the leader; for instance, he may wear differently colored robes than his underlings.

Additionally, there is a circle of pillars gathered around the circle. These have the Concealing, Full Cover, and Impassible terrain tags - they provide full cover, cannot be passed through, and creatures hiding behind them have Advantage on Stealth checks.

Enter Action Time. The cultists will be too busy with trying to correct the ritual to monitor their surroundings, giving the PCs the opportunity to sneak up on them; they will thus not attack if they are not alerted to the presence of intruders. However, if the PCs do draw the cult's attention, Vladislav will order the cultists to attack.

Vladislav has the stats of a cult fanatic; his underlings have the stats of cultists. He will start by sending the five cultists staying back by him to ward off the PCs while he tries to lead the ritual. The three cultists gathered around the circle will remain where they are, continuing to chant. If two or more cultists are killed or incapacitated, or if Vladislav is directly accosted, he will enter the fight.

As long as the portal remains stuck in its partially open state, the three cultists at the circle will spend each of their turns chanting. When this happens, roll a d20 - on a roll of 11 or higher, the cultist successfully performs a chant. At the end of a round, if any cultist succeeded on the chant that round, the portal flickers and begins to widen. If no cultists succeeded, the portal remains in its current state.

Ag'draluun is trapped on the other side of the portal, unable to pass through. He cannot move across it (it's too small), and his Fear Aura will not affect creatures on the other side of the portal; however, he will reach through and make an attack with his claws at any PCs within five feet of the portal. If the portal is widened three times, it opens fully, summoning Ag'draluun into the world. He is quite angry that the summoning was performed so poorly, and is just as wont to attack the cultists as he is the PCs - but he won't hesitate to attack them either, if they're in range!

If all three cultists around the circle are killed or incapacitated, the portal winks out of existence. Ag'draluun's arm will be caught outside of it if this happens, causing it to be cut off; it falls to the ground before burning away into cinders. Alternatively, you could make it persist so that the PCs could retrieve it - the arm of a demon would surely have interesting alchemical properties.

Further Developments

If Vladislav is alive when the portal closes, he will flee the scene. He may become a recurring antagonist to the party - but perhaps a less than effectual one, unless he discovers more useful arcane knowledge. Either way, he will leave behind his books, which contain notes on a few rituals cobbled together from different sources. Some of this information could prove useful if the PCs need to research a ritual. Also left near the portal are his bags, containing 150 GP in gold and jewels and a scroll of Tasha's Hideous Laughter.

Ag'draluun might make for a recurring antagonist as well. Even if the portal was closed on him, he now knows the party, and will blame them for the loss of his arm, seeking a portal or a more competent summoner to re-enter reality so that he can enact his vengeance.

And if the portal was opened and the party somehow survived...well, they now have released an incredibly powerful demon upon the world, and can expect to deal with the consequences!

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.

Lianport

Much like how Portoga is where you get a ship in Dragon Quest III, significantly opening your venues for exploring the world, the city of Lianport plays a similar role in Dragon Quest II. This port town is located on the eastern coast of the southern continent of Torland, facing Alefgard, and with the northern continent not far from there. It's no surprise that a port would be established there - it's at a crossroads of Torland's three major land masses, with ready access to all three. For this reason, it's reasonable to believe that this region is a major trade center.

For The Saga of the Ortegids, I would hypothesize that Lianport is only one of a number of such cities along the coast. We just don't see the others due to the map being simplified for gameplay purposes. There is no king in Lianport and no capital cities nearby, so it's likely that Lianport is a free city-state; other cities in the area may well be as well. There may also be a few larger merchant republics in the area, or groups of allied cities similar to the Hanseatic League - which would certainly fit the northern European feel of Torland.

Due to its nature as an important mercantile center with access to sea trade, Lianport (and other cities like it) would likely be a cosmopolitan place, with merchants from across Torland passing through here. Indeed, we even see a soldier from Alefgard here. There are a number of advantages such a setting would offer a tabletop campaign. It could be an easy way to bring PCs of disparate backgrounds together, since no matter where they came from in the world, it wouldn't be hard to think of reasons for them to arrive in Lianport. It would also be a hotbed of rumors and quest hooks from so many disparate visitors. If ships are readily accessible here, it could serve as a hub for the party to explore locales throughout the map - tie this in with the previous point, and you have an easy setup for a globe-hopping campaign. Is it still a globe if it's on the inside of a hollow world?

Furthermore, with Lianport being a free port outside the authority of any king, it's easy to imagine how a criminal underbelly could form. It'd be a natural spot for smugglers to pass through without attracting attention, and even pirates might be able to evade the law here. For this reason, it could make for a good base of operations for a more roguish party - or, consequently, it could present its own dangers. The streets could be thronged with cutpurses, thugs, or even beastmen, where taking the wrong turn down an alley could get ugly fast. Add in a few competing criminal organizations, and you have factions the PCs could play off of or get involved in.

Art by Jihyun Kim

Also located to the south of Lianport are the Dragon's Horns, a set of two towers flanking a river. In the game, in order to reach Lianport, you must climb the tower to the south and jump from the top, using the Cloak of Winds from the Tower of Winds to glide across. It's mentioned that the two towers were once joined by a bridge, but this has been destroyed by the time of DQ2. Despite this, the people don't seem to be in any hurry to rebuild the bridge, and the towers are still manned by guards, implying that they're still being used as fortresses by the local authorities. Perhaps it's just easier to navigate by sea. Due to the distance from the city, I don't think the Dragon's Horns are controlled by Lianport itself; perhaps there's another city on the river, maybe at the foot of one or both of the towers, and the towers are there to protect its harbor. Strangely enough, there are monsters in the tower itself. Maybe the guards are in the process of fighting off an infestation? It is the obligatory dungeon where you fight a lot of rats.

Art by Marc Mons

Friday Encounter: The Sacrifice

This encounter's another one to subvert your players' expectations and present them with a moral quandry to solve. It works best on the road, since the PCs should ideally be unfamiliar with the local area. However, you may wish to plant some rumors in nearby settlements so that the players know what to expect - or at least they think they do.

While traveling, the party comes upon a small village where a strange ceremony is taking place. Four young men and women are parading through the streets bedecked in flowers and accompanied by guards, yet despite the festive scene, the townspeople are all watching silently with grim expressions. Even the youths on parade appear to be nervous, avoiding eye contact; some can even be heard sobbing. If the PCs decide to ask the villagers what's going on, they'll explain in hushed tones:

The village is in debt to a cult of demon worshipers, after an inhabitant of the town sold his soul generations ago. Now, the cult demands a sacrifice of four of the town's youths every spring, or the forces of Hell will be displeased and seek to collect their bargain by force. The sacrifice has happened every year for as long as anyone can remember, and no one has dared to defy the cult for fear of the consequences that may bring. Although the townsfolk regret having to sign away the lives of their children, they see it as their unfortunate duty to bear, and don't dare to question it. In particular, one girl, Katrin, is the beloved daughter of the town innkeeper, Rikerd Gerst. If the PCs stop at the inn, he will be visibly stricken with grief.

Naturally, this all sounds like a setup for the PCs to put a stop to the cult. If they ask around, the townspeople will give them directions to the site of the sacrifice a short distance away. If you like, you can spin this out into a full-fledged dungeon, or if you'd like to keep things simple, it could just be an altar in a grove.

Either way, if the PCs choose to pursue the sacrificial victims, they will find them gathered around a raised, stepped platform topped by an altar, with robed cultists watching silently. Enter Action Time at this point, and track the number of rounds that pass. The altar is a terrain feature with the Three-Quarters Cover, High Ground, Ledge, and Steep tags.

There are eight cultists gathered - six stand chanting in a circle, while one leads the victims, and an eighth waits by the altar with a curved sacrificial dagger. Each round, the cultist leading the victims will walk them higher up the steps to the altar. If the PCs show themselves, the six chanting cultists will attempt to hold them off, but the other two will not cease their duties.

Starting at the third round, if the cultist leading the victims and the dagger-bearer are still alive and not incapacitated, one of the victims will be laid on the altar, where the dagger-bearer slits their throat, killing them instantly. From then on, these two cultists will kill one victim per round as long as they are alive and not otherwise engaged in combat. If one of them dies or is incapacitated, and there is a cultist in the group that can fill the position, that cultist will attempt to disengage from combat and take up their role. This happens even if the PCs are an obvious threat. If this happens, the timer pauses for one round, but resumes from where it was left the next round. If all four victims are killed, the two cultists join in the fight.

If the PCs manage to defeat the cultists and return the youths to their families, the townspeople will be grateful, rewarding each PC with 100 GP per victim rescued safely. However, they will still wonder with noticeable anxiety what will happen now that the ritual has failed.

As a matter of fact, their fears are warranted. If the blood of less than four innocents was spilled on the altar that night, the pact is broken, and the sacrificial altar collapses into a hellmouth - a portal to the pits of Hell itself. The terrain around the altar warps, with the ground becoming parched and cracked and the trees gnarled, storms crackle overhead, and demons pour forth from the pit, laying waste to anything in their path. The PCs may well have traded one problem for a bigger one - and they might need to take greater measures to seal the portal they've created.

Friday Encounter: The Guardian Beast

A lot of my Friday Encounters center around a couple of themes I find ripe for exploiting when it comes to game material - subverting PC expectations, or confronting the party with moral dilemmas. Well, I hope people aren't getting tired of that, because this one has both.

This encounter is best used while the PCs are on the road, and come to a small isolated village. Ideally, you should drop rumors in the leadup to the encounter - for instance, in nearby settlements, the party may hear that people have sighted a foreboding shape flying over the horizon, and it seems to be coming closer and closer. They should also hear that number of farms and homesteads further down the road have been laid to waste, the buildings shattered and the people and animals vanished, with only bones left behind. Several such rumors describe the ground being scarred into wasteland, as though the fields were burned with acid, though none have seen such a desolation in person.

Eventually, this trail should take them to a town where the people know of a mountain nearby, where a chimera dwells in its cave. The villagers have known of this creature for years, and some even know the trail to its lair, but they note that it has never caused any trouble for the town before. However, if nearby settlements are being devastated, many suspect the chimera is responsible - and when it lives so close by, there is a growing sense of paranoia that their village may be next. A few have declared that the chimera must be slain before it takes another life, but no one is brave enough to make such a journey. However, if the PCs seem capable, one of the local guides will be happy to show them the way.

The chimera dwells at the summit of a mountain near the town. You may choose to add other encounters or hazards along the way as you wish, or even expand the lair into a full-fledged dungeon. However, the chimera should be found in a cavern strewn with bones. None of them appear to be human bones, and the bones of several dangerous monsters can be found among them. Nevertheless, if the PCs approach the chimera with weapons drawn, it will not hesitate to attack.

If the chimera is slain, the townspeople will celebrate, rewarding the PCs with a grand feast and offering 90 GP per party member in return; they will also find 4000 GP's worth of gold and jewels, a potion of fire giant strength, and a wand of secrets in the chimera's lair. However, about a week afterward (this can be adjusted if the PCs seem intent on moving on quickly), they will discover the terrible truth.

The chimera wasn't behind the attacks at all - rather, they were the work of a black dragon starting to expand its range into the nearby area. The chimera, in fact, had established itself as the protector of the village, and had fended off attacks by monsters for many years. Without it, though, the village is defenseless - and it will be the dragon's next target! The next time the PCs come to the village, they will find it a smoldering ruin, and the dragon may still be around. If the PCs don't have any desire to revisit the village, they can discover the consequences of their actions when an NPC, perhaps a survivor from the town, relays the news and warns of the dragon's threat.

I've tried to leave a few clues in this encounter, but if you don't think your players will pick up on them, you might allow PCs to research local lore, in which case they may discover that a folk hero from the town decided to spare a chimera's life years ago, and the chimera decided to defend the village ever since. This should be a relatively obscure legend, to explain why the people fear the chimera. If the PCs don't kill the chimera, the dragon will still attack, but this time the two beasts will do battle - and the party may well be caught in the middle of it!

Friday Encounter: The Curse of Feebleness

This encounter could be used in a variety of situations, including in a town, on the road, in the wilderness, or in a dungeon. The idea is to use it wherever the PCs could be impacted by a curse. The simplest way to do this would be for the party to accidentally bump into a witch (perhaps knocking into her from a carriage while on the road and injuring her, or bumping into her on the street in town and causing her to spill what she's carrying) who, feeling vindictive, decides to place a curse on them. But it could just as easily be the result of a cursed treasure in a dungeon, or inflicted upon the party by a recurring villain. Feel free to use it wherever and however you think it would be enjoyable.

Some way or another, the PCs are all stricken with a curse that penalizes them in a fashion that is detrimental to their class and general play style, making it hard for them to fit their typical role in the party. For example:

• Martial classes have Disadvantage on all Strength checks, to-hit rolls, and damage rolls, and their carrying capacity is halved.
• Magic-users have Disadvantage on Knowledge checks, any checks to successfully cast spells, and saves against magical effects.
• Rogues have Disadvantage on all Dexterity checks, and their footsteps become loud and conspicuous, making it harder for them to sneak around silently.
• Bards become tone-deaf and have Disadvantage on Performance checks. They also lose proficiency in any musical instruments until the effects of the curse wear off.

You get the idea. Feel free to tailor these to your party - if any of the PCs wouldn't be affected much by these penalties (for instance, if you have a Finesse fighter), come up with an alternative effect that would negatively affect them.

The idea is to make it harder to play the PCs the way the players normally would, forcing them to act outside of their comfort zone. This could present a fun opportunity to challenge players to think outside the box if their typical strategies wouldn't work, or to give them a chance to experiment with play styles they aren't used to. If you have a player who always plays one class, this might be a way to force them to branch out.

For maximum fun, don't have the curse take effect right away. Instead, the effects should start to become apparent 1d4 days after the inciting incident. Don't tell the players that the curse takes effect, either - just start asking them to reroll their rolls and take the lower result, without elaborating. Eventually, they'll figure out something's wrong, and this could kick off an investigation of what might have placed the curse on them. If you have the curse placed on them by an NPC, it's probably best if it's obvious that some sort of spell was cast even if it doesn't take effect immediately. The players will be a lot more likely to draw a connection between the little old lady they knocked over and the fact they can't hit the broad side of a barn if that old lady started waving her hands at them and speaking in tongues before they saw a bright flash. Otherwise, they might end up on a wild goose chase that leads nowhere.

Because I've left things open-ended as to what triggers the curse, I'll also leave it open-ended as to what breaks it. If the PCs attracted the ire of a magician, for example, they may need to find them and right their wrongdoing. Or potentially kill the mage that cursed them, but that might not be possible if they're in polite society. If they picked up a cursed artifact, it may simply be a matter of disposing of it - but cursed artifacts have a habit of turning up again, unless the curse is passed on to someone else. One fun option would be to have the curse be broken for a given PC when that character performs a great deed or overcomes a great challenge without having to fall back on their area of expertise, proving that they can thrive on their own merits even if their greatest assets are taken away from them.

Friday Encounter: What Is It, Lassie?

This encounter can be used anywhere - a town, on the road, in the wilderness, or in a dungeon. However, it's probably best used in an environment one might conceivably encounter a dog - having one turn up in the middle of a dungeon might invite unwarranted suspicion from the party. A PC with access to speak with animals or similar effects may make this encounter trivial to solve, so you may want to consider your party composition and determine if it would be suitably challenging for your table.

The PCs are approached by a large dog, which runs up to them wagging its tail and sniffing them excitedly. If they respond affectionately (most players will, in my experience), the dog will tag along with them, following them wherever they go. Even if they try to get rid of the dog, it will catch up to them as soon as possible, taking every measure possibly to keep up with the party, unless it is physically incapable of doing so (such as if the party crosses a bridge that falls behind them, and the dog is unable to clear the chasm). Notably, the dog will bark and try to get the party's attention once it is sure they are friendly. It seems almost like it's trying to communicate with them.

As a matter of fact, the dog is trying to communicate with them. It is in fact Athansios Panossias, a powerful wizard who, upon being defeated in a magical duel with his rival Hermokrates Nikolaios, was cursed into the form of a dog. Though he retains his memories and his learned mind, Athansios can only speak and act as a dog can, and thus is incapable of performing the gestures and incantations needed to work his magic. Desperate to lift the curse and get revenge on Hermokrates, he seeks out any passing adventurers who he might be able to lead to his mortal enemy.

Athansios cannot say or do anything a normal dog couldn't, but he will nevertheless attempt to get the party's attention and lead them in the direction of Hermokrates's tower, trying to explain his predicament as best he can. However, he faces significant limitations in doing so. The PCs will likely misunderstand his directions, and this may well lead them on a wild goose chase. It's okay if this happens - it's fun!

In the Lunar Lands, all animals are sapient, but have their own languages indecipherable to other species. Athansios might not be able to communicate with the party, but he can communicate with any dogs they have with them, and they will understand them. These dogs may try to pass on the same message if they're swayed to his side, but of course they face the same difficulties in doing so. If there's a Really Good Dog in your party, you should relay Athansios's messages to their player privately and have them try to relate things to the rest of the party without using verbal communication, to keep things balanced.

Friday Encounter: Deals at the Crossroads

For optimal folkloric resonance, the best place to use this encounter is at a crossroads, preferably at night. As everyone knows, the crossroads is a place where the boundaries between worlds are weak, and it's easier to contact the other side - or, for that matter, for the other side to contact you. However, it would also work in the wilderness, in a dungeon, or perhaps even in a town, after everyone else is asleep.

Background

In the Lunar Lands, there are numerous places where the fabric of reality thins, and it is easier for things from other worlds to slip through. Crossroads are particularly susceptible to this, as an already liminal space where multiple routes intersect. Alimuth, a demon, has taken advantage of this. Like all demons, he delights in using his magic to bring mortals to ruin and spread discord, and he has come into the possession of multiple mortal souls through offering fabulous powers in exchange for immortal servitude. Now, the PCs might well become his latest clients...

The Encounter

Alimuth will appear to the PCs at the crossroads when no one else is around. He takes the disguise of a wealthy merchant, wearing fine clothes embroidered with fur and brocades, but all in shades of red. Like all demons, Alimuth is physically incapable of invoking the names of any gods, and instead refers to them by epithets and titles whenever possible. Additionally, a DC 20 Perception check reveals that he has slit pupils like those of a cat.

The "merchant" is found sitting on a cart hitched to a donkey on the side of the road. The cart has lost a wheel and sunken into a ditch - Alimuth is particularly interested in corrupting good-hearted and generous souls, and wants to pose as someone in need of help as a way to lure the PCs closer. He calls to the PCs for aid as they pass.

It's a simple enough task to find the missing wheel and fix the cart - no rolling is necessary. Alimuth just wants to get the PCs close enough to make his pitch. He graciously thanks the PCs and commends them on their kindness - then offers to repay them in a way only he can.

At this point, Alimuth promises to impart each of the PCs with a special "blessing." He will teach any of the PCs one spell from the warlock spell list, regardless of whether or not they have any levels in warlock. This spell should be one suited to the character's class, playstyle, and strategies, and should be one spell level higher than the highest level of spell slot a warlock of the same level as the PC would have access to - this is a more powerful spell than what would otherwise be possible of the PC. If the PC is a spellcasting class, the spell is cast as they would normally cast any other spell and takes up one spell slot of their highest available level. If they are not a spellcasting class, they can cast it as a warlock would (ie. their spell save DC is 8 + proficiency bonus + CHA, and their spell attack modifier is proficiency bonus + CHA), once per long rest.

However, this comes at a cost. To teach the PC the spell, Alimuth will need ownership over their soul as payment. If the PC dies, their soul is immediately damned to Hell; they automatically fail all death saves, and they cannot be resurrected or communed with unless their soul is retrieved from Hell directly or Alimuth otherwise relinquishes control over their soul. Furthermore, they are to forfeit their life after a year and a day (you are keeping track of time, right?). If they are still alive at this time, Alimuth will send a pack of three hellhounds after the party to attack them. The hounds appear at nightfall every day until the affected PC dies, heralding their arrival with the sound of a loud howl, and will track them relentlessly. If the hounds are killed, they simply respawn the next night. If the affected PC dies, the hounds immediately vanish and do not attack the rest of the party. The hounds cannot enter holy ground, such as a temple or the burial ground of a saint.

Although a demon, Alimuth is a man of his word and does not attempt to mislead or trick the people he deals with. He presents the PCs with a contract in which all the relevant information is laid out (albeit in circuitous language that is difficult to understand), and will not teach them the spell until the PCs sign the contract in their blood (he provides a quill with a pointy tip, if necessary). However, he will try his best to persuade them, describing how it's in their best interests to branch out with magic, and they surely won't be in any danger any time soon with such fabulous magic on their side.

If the PCs turn him down, Alimuth will disappear, but emphasizes that the PCs are welcome to change their mind at any time. He will also disappear if attacked. If they return to the crossroads with the express intent of visiting Alimuth, he will be right where they left him. He will not appear if they are just passing through.

Optionally, you might rule that a cleric or paladin who sells their soul to Alimuth will no longer be able to use class features that rely on divine favor, since their soul is no longer pledged to their patron god. However, this runs the risk of mechanically crippling a character and may necessitate multiclassing for them to remain viable, so it's best to talk this over with your players to make sure they're prepared for such measures. If you don't see a year and a day passing over the course of the campaign, another optional measure to speed things up would be to have Alimuth's contract specify it expires in a year and a day in Hell, and he comes from a domain of Hell where time passes faster than it does in the mortal realm - so he may come to collect the bargain sooner than expected!

Furthermore, even if Alimuth does collect a PC's soul, that might not be the end. A resourceful party might find a way to track the demon down and convince him to give up their ally's soul - or even free their companion from Hell itself.

Ashalam

The city of Ashalam is Dragon Quest III's stand-in for the Middle East as a whole, and while there are no major quests there, it's one of my favorite locations in the game for just how evocative it is. Even before you get there, you're told that it's a great trade center, and indeed, there are more shops here than anywhere else in the game. Some of the merchants are more unscrupulous than others and dramatically overcharge you for their wares, insisting that they need to do that or they won't make enough money to feed their family, you see, and you don't want their family to starve, do you? You can play a simple haggling minigame to try and lower the prices, but even then, the lowest they'll ask for is still more than what you could get the same items for in other places.

Unlike many towns in the game, where NPCs retire to their beds at night, Ashalam is busy night and day, with different encounters you can find at different times. There's a tavern where dancing girls are performing at night, and a woman who propositions you for a "massage" - which turns out to be a scam and a waste of money if you take her up on her offer. Ashalam is noted as being famous for its dancers, and one of them can be found as far away as Alefgard.

This already sounds like the kind of city Conan would brawl and wench his way through, and I would play this up for The Saga of the Ortegids, running Ashalam as something akin to Shadizar or Port Blacksand - a hotbed of thievery, crime, and charlatanism, where all the authorities are corrupt and you can never take anyone at face value. A city where gold and silver flow in the streets, but where fortunes are gambled away as soon as they're won. A city where all manner of vices are indulged in openly, where a cheer can be heard from every tavern and the scent of black lotus hangs on the air (Isisian, the best! Would I sell haga to a slayer such as you?). Turn the wrong corner and you'll be shaken down - or worse.

Ashalam could serve as an excellent home base for a more roguish party; as a regional trade center, there would surely be rumors heard from all over, and plenty of patrons in need of someone willing to work under the table. If one wanted to emphasize the danger of the city, it could even be run akin to a dungeon - it certainly has enough potential for chaos to unfold, and one could find plenty of adventure within the walls.

Art by Vitor Ishimura

Like Kazave or Noaniels, Ashalam has no authority figures, but it's located quite far from Romaly, so it's hard for me to justify it being a part of the same empire. I would instead run it as a free city-state, likely established as a stopover point for caravans, and run by a few powerful merchant dynasties - probably with several rivalries among them, to make for higher-level intrigue and faction play. Most likely, there would be other mercantile city-states in the region of similar character, though I'd be inclined to make Ashalam the most notorious of the lot.

Interestingly, while the ground in the city itself is sandy, the overworld doesn't have any major deserts in the vicinity - those are all over by Isis. Instead, Ashalam is surrounded by forests and grasslands, inhabited by carnivorous apes and wild dogs. Perhaps, geographically, the region would be more akin to the savannahs of the Sudan, or maybe the Iranian plateau. There are still deserts nearby, but it's not the endless sea of sand you'd expect from most settings of the sort.

Friday Encounter: The Limestone Caves

As far as geological phenomena go, I've long held the belief that limestone caves and similar formations are woefully underused in fiction in general, and RPGs in particular. Limestone is known for collapsing without warning as it's eroded by water, which can lead to the structure of limestone caves changing dramatically in short periods of time. This could make for a dungeon that can't easily be mapped, and which presents dangers when navigating - one could find themselves sealed in a cavern if the entrance collapses behind them, or they could even be caught in the collapse of a tunnel while it happens. To say nothing of the risk of the caves filling with water! All in all, being trapped in a limestone cave is horrifying, and something that deserves to be utilized more.

This encounter aims to mechanically represent the dangers of an unstable limestone cave system. It can be used in a variety of different ways. The cave entrance could simply be dropped in the wilderness, along a road, or even in a town, or the ground could suddenly collapse as the PCs pass by to reveal a cave entrance! You could even use limestone caves as an extension of an existing dungeon. If the PCs aren't the types to investigate a cave out of curiosity, you could have NPCs impart rumors of treasure being hidden in the caves, or perhaps a shepherd hires the party to track down a sheep that went missing there.

I've provided a map of a sample limestone cave, but you're welcome to make your own. You could even spin the concept out into an entire dungeon, stocked with traps, enemies, and puzzles accordingly. There are six rooms, marked with numbers on the map, where an objective might be located - this could be treasure, or a missing sheep, or whatever the PCs might want to venture into the caves for. There are also 13 passages linking the rooms.

Click here to enlarge

You'll need to do some rolling in advance here. First, roll 1d6 to determine which room the objective is in. Then, roll 1d4 for each of the passages. The result of the roll is the number of times that passage can be passed (by the entire party) before it collapses. Once the count is up, roll 1d6. On a roll of 1, the passage collapses while the PCs are in it, and everyone crossing must make a DC 10 Dexterity saving throw or take 5d10 bludgeoning damage from the falling rocks. On a roll of 2-6, the passage does not collapse until after the entire party exits through it.

A collapsed passage cannot be crossed. This, in effect, makes navigating the caves a tense experience - you can never trust each passage, and the layout is rapidly changing around you, so the route you took to get in might not work to get back. It is entirely possible for the PCs to get trapped at a dead end. This might lead to a TPK if they don't have access to teleportation magic or other means of getting out, so a more merciful DM might want to add some other exit - perhaps a hidden trap door that leads to a larger dungeon below. Then the PCs will have to brave its challenges to find the way out.

Another option is to have the rooms fill with water once the PCs enter. I recommend using this for the room with the objective, for maximum tension, but you could also use this mechanic as an alternative to having the tunnels collapse - have them start filling with water once the number of safe passes is up. Once a room or passage starts to fill with water, enter Action Time. After each turn (not each round!), the water rises by 2 feet until all PCs leave the room or passage. Hopefully, the PCs can get out quick, or else hold their breath...