Maps of the Drowned Kingdoms 1: Fathomdeep

Fathomdeep - click to make bigger!

So it's the dawn of a new year, and a brand new D&D campaign rises on my horizon.  For a while now I've been drawn to the 5th Edition playtest - I admit I wasn't impressed initially, but I'm really liking the direction it's taken in recent packets. I'm going to give it a proper chance. Or at least, lay down preparations for a proper campaign. Which means a new campaign world!

I'm also aware Beholder Pie has been gathering dust recently. Though I've hosted my fair share of aborted serials here on this blog, it's time to gear up for a more regular posting schedule, and a new campaign world gives me something fresh to talk about.

So, welcome to Drowned Kingdoms! I'll be posting maps for this new world every week*, building it up map-by-map into a proper setting. I've always wanted this blog to be packed with original art, but actually getting artists to provide artwork (for nothing!) does mean it's been rather stop-start. Maps, though, I can do myself (to a degree - Stacey colours them!).

The idea for the world is pretty simple. It's the dying days of an empire of giants, decimated long ago by a great deluge. They still rule the archipelagos, but the flood has robbed them of their glory. The storm giants are forlorn drunkards, haunted by lost glories. Hill giants have descended into savagery, while stone giants are a beaten race hiding out in the mountains. Fire giants? Just a legend, supposedly fled to the Elemental planes. Beneath them all are men, elves, dwarves, and halflings - the subjects of the empire. And now, their time has come!

Stacey and I had the idea for Fathomdeep after watching the Hobbit (which we loved, in case you're wondering!). That scene at the start where the camera dives into the depths of Erebor, past clanking chains, to a lone dwarf miner uncovering the Arkenstone - now, just imagine if that was underwater? That same dwarf with his beard floating around him, fish flitting past, a flare hissing in the rockface at his side, working on a rockface of coral - well, that's Fathomdeep!

FATHOMDEEP 

Fathomdeep is a deep sea mining platform perched atop a giant statue in the ruins of a flooded storm giant city. The dwarves mine the sunken city for pearls, gold and gemstones, using waterbreathing potions to survive the crushing depths.
Population: Up to 300 dwarven workers can be found here at any one time. Roughnecks, roustabouts and miners work the rig in rotation, spending roughly a quarter of the month onshore. Servants and managers stay full-time on annual contracts. Supply ferries make the journey to the mainland on the first day of every week.
Government: The platform is owned by the Jeweller's Guild of Salvation, a nearby town. The current "toolpusher" (foreman) is called Torgi:  a grizzled veteran who commands his men's respect and is fiercely loyal to the guild.
Inns and Taverns: Rum is generously meted out every night in the "Crab's Taphouse": an annex of the rig's mess hall. Visitors are welcome to stay in the taphouse's rat-infested bunks, but may prefer the comfort of their own berths. The taphouse is run by Bald Olli, a merry dwarf who's always interested in tales of distant shores.
Supplies: Fathomdeep is a regular stop-over for sea traders, so it keeps a good supply house. Visitors can be sure to restock on fresh water, timber, hardware, and other shipping goods, but can also find a fair supply of adventuring gear. After all, the sunken city is home to worse things than fish.
Temples: The platform maintains a small shrine to the old gods of the sea. It's a dangerous job, so miners usually pay a visit to the shrine before "going below". Visitors can buy simple curatives from Ocram, the platform's crippled ritual worker. Ocram was lamed by a shark, whose teeth he now uses as runestones to predict the weather.      

Check back next week for a map of Salvation!

*Okay, maybe every other week. Let's just see how it goes.

Happy Holidays!

Om nom nom - Beholder Pie!

My friend cooked this pie for one of our epic weekenders: two days of solid roleplaying to mark the culmination of a campaign arc. Tonight, as the Christmas turkey digests and we reach for that extra glass of port, let's remember the reason most of us play: to catch up with friends, break bread together, and have fun. Usually it's not the adventure that matters most, it's all the great times that go with it. I wish you all a happy holiday, and ask you to join me in a toast to 2013 - may it bring good gaming to us all!

G is for Grell

Grells are levitating horrors whose dangling tentacles secrete a paralyzing poison. They like to lurk high up in caves, dropping silently on their prey and hoisting them up to the ceiling, where they rip them to pieces with their sharp beaks. As a species they live together in weird "hives", communicating in a semi-telepathic language of chirps, squawks, and thrashing tentacle gestures. Each hive is run by a Patriarch, whose orders are passed on to the common workers by a caste of Philosopher Grells.

Strange that Grells feel the need to philosophize, given that all they do is eat people. Maybe they're looking for meaning. Judging by the picture above, they certainly seem to enjoy eating people - in fact, they find it pretty bloody humorous. That's okay. We find them humorous too, with their silly brain heads and daft beaks.

The internet tells me that Grells were invented by Ian Livingstone, which is pretty cool. As a kid I was fanatical about his Fighting Fantasy gamebooks, and even wrote letters begging for this-or-that to be included in future titles (probably Vampires! or More Wizards!). I actually met him later on in life, and had one of those silly moments where I just shook his hand and smiled instead of saying how much his books meant to me. Anyway, I'm far from alone in my fandom - in fact, Jonathan Green's got a kickstarter going on right now to create a commemorative book for their 30th anniversary. If you have any interest in gamebooks - even the history of D&D - I'd suggest you head over there and pledge!

Dungeon 209: Tears of the Crocodile God

A sacrifice to Bansouk's vicious Crocodile God finally meets her maker...

Just a quick post to let you know that my first adventure is soon to be published in Dungeon magazine. Back in March I pitched Tears of the Crocodile God through the DDI submissions channel. I heard back from them shortly after moving to Guildford, and spent much of June writing and play-testing. It's been a personal goal of mine to have an adventure published in Dungeon, so it's fair to say I'm over the moon! If you're a subscriber, I hope you'll enjoy it, and maybe find some use for it in your own games.

Best of all, this isn't the only adventure I've got coming - after submitting the final draft, the folks at Wizards have been in touch with more work, and I now have more projects in the pipeline. Though Beholder Pie will be baking at a lower temperature until I'm done, I'll try and post updates when I can. The good thing about adventure design is that it keeps you thinking about the game, so there's lots I'd like to share. Until then, I hope you'll join me in raising a tankard to the Crocodile God - may he forever wallow in the blood of fallen adventurers!

F is for Firenewt

Firenewts were a race of bipedal, lizard-like marauders that lived in deserts and arid mountains. Their raiding parties would strike out from volcanic lairs in search of tasty human captives, which they'd take back as food for their larders. As a species they were barbaric, tribal and thoroughly evil. Somehow, I don't think Stacey's illustration fully captures this.

I use the past tense because firenewts eventually went the way of the dodo, as far as the game goes. I guess D&D can only support so many  lizardmen (or "lizardfolk" as we're inclined to say now, to avoid discriminating against lizardgirls). Most likely they were usurped by Salamanders, which in reality are newts, and were once thought to have an affinity for fire. So they're the same thing really. In terms of lore, I suppose I prefer the elemental Salamanders (though I think they need the word "man" added to the end of their name).

As she was drawing them, Stacey decided that Firenewts like to dance, which is what this one is teaching his boy. So I suppose that adds something new to their lore!

Don't Panic!

Craig J. Spearing's cover to Kobold Quarterly 22

Things have been a little quiet around here recently, but normal service shall be resuming soon. I've just started a funky new job, and right now we're in the process of moving across country to our new house. Expect a more regular posting schedule once we're fully back online.

That's not to say things haven't been busy in the kitchen though! First off, we had an article published in the Summer issue of Kobold Quarterly. "The Scaled Steamhall" is a mystical bath-house that caters to the cream of Midgard's Mharoti Imperials, even serving as a hatchery for the Sultana's dragon cavalry. Beyond flavour and adventure hooks, the article also provides some crunchy 4E content in the form of magical "wyrmspa treatments", stats for dragon mounts (which may have inspired the issue's wonderful cover), and some old-school dungeon maps by Stacey. With interest in 4E apparently flagging in some quarters, I'm quite proud we've kept the fires burning here.       

Labyrinth Lord: a tome of old school goodness.

I also won a prize for my entry into the one-page dungeon competition, which won the "Best Eye Beams" category (surely the best category of all!). The Tomb of Snowbite Pass also got special mention by the guy who runs the competition, who praised it for its classic old-school feel. Somewhat appropriately, it won me a copy of the Labyrinth Lord RPG, which I'll be sure to give a whirl as soon as we have some free time! I've promised to draw more one-page dungeons when I get the chance, so expect some additions over the next few months.

Beyond this and the move, there's been one other exciting iron in the fire that I'll (hopefully) be able to tell you about soon. Until then, take care, and stay tuned! 

Small but Vicious Dog

"Ruff!"

I don't know about you, but animals don't seem to last very long in my games. Often it seems that the moment somebody gives them a name, it's just a matter of time before they croak.

Take Bagsy, the loyal mule eaten by goblins after being left alone outside the Keep on the Shadowfell. Or Stumpy, the trihorn behemoth burned alive in a reckless fire started by our warlord (Stumpy actually survived with extreme burns, which made it kind of worse). Or the "small but vicious dog" listed under the Rat Catcher's starting gear in Warhammer: I've probably seen more of those kick the bucket than actual rats! Over the years I've lost count of how many riding horses have been crushed by avalanches, ridden off cliffs, or just caught on the wrong side of a fireball - and don't get me started on familiars.

Of course, I'm to blame most of the time. Killing a pet is probably just a cheap way to crank up the pressure, so I end up treating them like red shirts, or those rookie cops who're just about to get married. Perhaps I'm just haunted by a scene from My First Ever Adventure (I was nine!), when my brother's character asked a local woodsman if he'd seen his horse, and the DM told him the guy was wearing suspicious-looking horse-ear slippers - a stroke of genius that I've possibly been trying to emulate ever since.

Still, sometimes it's just down to the nature of the game: D&D has lots of explosions, and animals are usually pretty frail. Which is great if you just lurve killing animals, but sucks if you want to play a classic "man and his dog" concept. Thankfully 4th Edition is quite good at abstraction, so it's easy enough to come up with a set of rules where they simply can't be hurt. So long as your loyal companion isn't a fighting dog, I think it's fair to give them a handful of flavourful utility powers, yet keep them pretty much off-map during combat (incidentally, this sort of thing is one of the reasons some people hate 4th Edition - but let's not go there thankyouverymuch).

Check out the rules below. It's a matter of taste whether or not you demand a feat to get these powers, or just hand them out willy-nilly. I'd be inclined to go for the latter, so long as the player invests some time bringing the animal to life at the table.