Lessons from the OSR Part VII – More Combat!

 In our last installment, we discussed how old school (A)D&D combat needs to be paradoxically both abstract and concrete depending on the situation, with armor class (AC) and hit points (HP) as the prime examples of abstraction, and called shots or critical hits as examples of more concrete rulings that are sometimes necessary.

In this installment, we are going to talk about how these concepts apply to player character (PC) parties, especially at the tender, Basic levels of about 1-3.  Another paradox of PCs in (A)D&D combat (to me) is this:

While the PCs act as individuals, they must fight as a unit to survive.

This might be evident to those who have served in the military, first responders, or have played in team sports.  Heck!  Even veteran raiders in massively-multiplayer online (MMO) RPGs know this: you never go full Leeroy Jenkins.

 This was likely evident to the wargamers that were the creators and early players of the game as well.  Starting characters are very fragile, would-be heroes and generals, (but not yet,) and have to be protected, much like the king in Chess. 

Therefore, old school (A)D&D parties tended to be big, with either many players (i.e. more than 3-5,) and/or a number of non-player character (NPC) hirelings or henchmen to boost their numbers, sort of like a modern-day platoon. 

A possible account of Grandpa Grog’s first, total party kill (TPK.)

 They didn’t just play characters like Conan, Robin Hood, and Gandalf.  They were Robin Hood AND his Merry Men, Conan AND his Barachan Pirates/Zuagirs/Kozaki/Aquilonian Knights, Gandalf AND his…err…hobbits.

 

They work for food and fit into TSA-approved carry-on luggage.  What’s not to love?

But what does it mean to fight as a unit in old-school (A)D&D?  Well, dungeons tend to be cramped spaces, with approximately 10 foot-wide corridors as the standard (but not always) between rooms.  That means the party typically fights very close together.  This is one of the reasons marching order is important in the game.  It is not just to determine where each character is during exploration (a topic we will cover later,) but also their main mode of fighting.

Despite (A)D&D being medieval-ish in theme, we should look further back in time to the ancients for our cramped, formation-fighting model: the Greek (and later Roman) phalanx. 

Fighting naked, with sharp objects dangerously close to one's pee-pee place, is not recommended.

 I mentioned before that I’m not a mathematician.  It should come as no surprise that I’m not a historian, either.  In fact, the things I'm an expert about can probably be counted in one hand, even one that has suffered the potentially dangerous effects of playing with fireworks as a child.  I just like to read interesting sh*t, especially if I can apply it to my gaming (I’m sure I’m not alone in this.)  We’re dipping our toes into some military history here "for entertainment purposes only," so the history buffs or influencers among you can just chill.

 One such piece of interesting sh*t is the book De Re Militari  (aka The Military Institution of the Romans) by Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus.  (I suspect that if you repeat his name three times, a ghostly, Roman patrician in a toga will appear behind your reflection in the bathroom mirror.)  This book detailed the training, organization, strategies, and tactics of the Roman military.  (Note: I thought this was available on Project Gutenberg, but I can’t seem to find it, so you’ll have to procure a copy on your own.  Ye must have barnacles in yer head if ye thinks I’ll hang fer piracy, arr.)

Fun Fact: this book was used by medieval and Renaissance armies well into the 16th century and beyond, so it’s still applicable to our fantastic medieval campaigns.  However, the text should be taken with a grain of salt, since it was written during the late (read: declining) Roman Empire and it may have had a bit of MRGA (Make Rome Great Again) propaganda.  But regardless of one’s personal, political stance on the good ol’ S.P.Q.R., what is of interest to us here is Vegetius’ descriptions of how Roman armies fought.  We’re not going to get deep into the weeds, but here are a few, summarized points that could apply to dungeon-fighting parties:

• Roman soldiers fought in tight formation, rather than as a “raw and untrained horde” (which kinda sounds like orcs.)
• Each soldier had armor, a shield, and a thrusting weapon, rather than hacking or slashing all over the place, unnecessarily exposing themselves to harm.
• Each soldier also carried hurled weapons, either the javelins called pila, or five, “loaded javelins,” which I believe is referring to the lead-weighted darts called plumbatae.  I find it hilarious that some great victories have been won by the ancient equivalent of lawn darts.
  

The idea here is that you don’t want every character in your party to do whatever they want in combat like the aforementioned “untrained horde” of Leeroy Jenkinses.  Instead, they should fight together in disciplined ranks, with a strong, layered outer defense and offense; something like a mutant war-beast that is a cross between a turtle with a shell made of shields (testudo) and a porcupine with spears for quills.  If you were looking to start a retro, heavy metal tribute band, these could inspire your band name.  No need to thank me.

We’re playing at the local dive this Thursday.  Come check us out and buy a CD, because we’d like to eat sometime this week.

 Need a better visual example?  Check out this sequence from the HBO series, Rome below.  Note how the centurion in charge (the character of Vorenus) signals with a whistle at about the 00:35 mark, so that soldiers from the rear ranks can relieve wounded, exhausted, or fallen soldiers in the front ranks.  This could be a lifesaver for characters that have lost too many hit points (esp. at one hit die!)  Unfortunately, one soldier (the character of Pulo) then demonstrates the Leeroy Jenkins strategy at about the 2:30 mark, but it still serves as a good example of what not to do.

 “Ok, Weregrog, but my party isn’t made up if a bunch of Roman legionaries!  What is this supposed to look like for an (A)D&D party, with medieval fantastic knights, elves, dwarves, wizards, and clerics?”  Don’t worry, Little Johnny (can I call you Little Johnny?)  I will show you.

Now, I know most old-schoolers don’t care for the artist Terry Dykstra, who illustrated a few of the 1990s’ D&D products (the “Challenger Series”) that I began with, but he’s just as psychologically imprinted in my D&D head-canon as Erol Otus is to an old grog’s.  He had a pretty good depiction of dungeon-fighting in the Rules Cyclopedia, so the old grogs are just going to have to suck it up this time.

We can meet in the middle on Elmore, Easley, and Caldwell.

 Note the composition of the party.  You have two fighters with swords and shields in the front, a fighter behind them with a polearm, and an archer looking for an opportunity shot, while remaining under the protection of the first rank.   The pedantic, would-be YouTube medieval weapons “expert” in me would say he should have a crossbow, or at least a short bow instead of a long bow in a dungeon, but we can chalk that one up to artistic license and move on.  My point is made, and I’ve likely angered both the old grognards AND the YouTube weapons experts in doing so.  These are the lengths I will go to for my readers.

Here lies The Weregrognard, who bravely perished on OSR Hill fighting the combined forces of The Dungeon Delver, Shadiversity, and others.

Before we get into specific party formations and fighting tactics, I want to discuss two rules which I believe complement fighting as a unit: group initiative and a phased combat sequence.  (Note: surprise will be covered in a separate post.)

Group Initiative

Most older editions of (A)D&D used group or party initiative, but individual initiative soon became an optional rule, which then became the modern-day standard.  This is a shame, because it encourages the members of a party to split up and perform their actions individually during combat in what is literally a random order, without care for synchronicity between fellow players.  If you’ve experienced a number of near, or full TPK’s (regardless of edition,) this is probably the underlying cause.

My personal suggestion is to use group initiative.  This way, the party can act as a team, preferably with a carefully-thought strategy beforehand, but even if the proverbial battle plan doesn’t survive the first swing of a sword, this allows them to coordinate effectively in the heat of battle.

 

Phased Combat Sequence

The other factor that I believe helps with group fighting is a combat sequence composed of phases, like in many wargames.  Essentially, each phase in the sequence suggest an initiative order for different types of maneuvers or attacks.  This is the example from the Moldvay Basic Set:

 Movement comes first, followed by missile (or hurled) weapon attacks, which are then followed by spells (these can be thought of as kind of artillery that needs more set-up in the form of magic words and gestures.)  The phases then culminate in the ringing clash of melee, with some options like polearms or set spears (against a charge) attacking first regardless of initiative.

Of course, this is all dependent on how your play group and GM does things, but using group initiative, with the option of phased combat, helps the party feel and act more like a team.  Even with individual initiative (*sigh*) players could still coordinate to fight as a group, using delaying actions to act in concert.  Do this, and soon enough the party will come to function much like crack, special operators.

Clear!  Ramirez, check for traps and treasure.  Grognar, Brodo, you’re on door spike and watch duty.  Go!

Suggested Party Formations

Here are some suggested marching order strategies, as demonstrated by Mr. Murder Hobo and his unwashed, inebriated pals.  Again, these are dependent on how the GM does things, but could still provide a framework for your party’s fighting strategy.  Most of these can, and should be mixed, matched, or adapted for specific situations.  Feel free to share your own, tried and true strategies in the comments.

These are demonstrated in grids with one square/inch equaling three and one-third (3.33) feet, rather than a new school, ones-size-fits-all abstraction like the five-foot square.  This is in accordance with Gygax's description of marching order in the Advanced game, where a party can march three abreast down the standard, 10-foot-wide corridor.  Some adjustments may be necessary in play for different-sized corridors and rooms.  Even if the GM uses “theater of the mind” combat, these formations can be demonstrated with miniatures, tokens, or a drawing in the style of one of those confusing, football play diagrams.

While Original and B/X versions of the game don’t typically deal with weapon space and reach like in the Advanced game, I am going to go by the following assumptions and standards, which I hope the dear reader finds reasonable.  (You'll find that as an old school GM, you'll have to make many decisions and rulings like this as you solidify your campaign's "reality"):

• Type A Weapons – These are thrusting weapons that do not require significant space between fellow combatants: daggers, short swords, spears, and thrusting polearms, like pikes or speta.
• Type B Weapons – These are one-handed slashing or bludgeoning weapons that require some space between combatants to swing around (about 3 feet or so): clubs, hand-axes, long (normal) swords, maces, and war-hammers.  A benevolent GM can consider a long (normal) sword that can cut and thrust to be a Type A weapon if used to thrust only, though a less benevolent one (like yours truly) could impose a small penalty to hit due to the lack of a full range of maneuvers with the weapon.
• Type C Weapons – These are big, two-handed weapons that require lots of room to swing around, specifically more than 3 feet in both the front arc and flanks: battle-axes, two-handed swords, and slashing, or bludgeoning polearms, like halberds, pole-axes, or bec de corbin (war-hammer-on-a-stick.)

Most weapons only have enough reach to attack from the first rank only.  Spears have enough reach to attack from the first or second ranks.  Type A polearms can reach over and/or between combatants in the first and second ranks to attack from the third rank, but are useless once an opponent closes in.

Now that we are done with these preliminaries, here are the formations:

 

 Squishy-in-the-Middle

This first example is not so much a formation strategy as a general, best-practice.  Low hit die types like magic-users, and thieves, or severely wounded characters (20% HP or less) should never, ever fight in the front ranks.  If the battle is at that point, the party should have likely retreated several rounds ago.  The magic-user especially is the party’s nuclear, ace-in-the hole.  Don’t waste their chance to shine for the party’s benefit by submitting them to the horror of the front ranks!
 

Squishy-in-the-Middle

 

The Turtle-Porcupine (with launching quills)

I would consider this the standard model for most old school parties.  You want the characters with the best AC (armor AND shield,) as well  as the highest HP (if possible) in a tight formation in the front rank, armed with a hurling weapon ready, such as a spear, javelin, or even throwing axe for a deadly, first strike.  This was the tactic of the Dark Ages' Franks back when these proto-Frenchmen could chew the enemy like baguettes and sh*t them out like fromage.  Each fighter in front rank should also have a Type A side arm ready to draw for when the enemy closes in.

At least one character in the second rank is armed with spear, armor, and shield, so they can attack from that rank, or relieve a character in the front rank if necessary.  At least one character in the third rank is armed with a thrusting (Type A) polearm to attack from there.  If using Original, or B/X rules, this could be one of the party’s thieves, which can use any weapon, but doesn’t typically have the AC or HP for front rank fighting.

 

The Turtle-Porcupine

As shown, the party should also have enough numbers to duplicate this model at the rear of the party, in case of attacks from that direction.  If the third rank happens to be the central rank, then those characters with polearms may turn to attack, depending on which end the greatest threat is.

 

The Fellowship

This is applicable to diverse parties with multiple dwarves or halflings.  Following the Turtle-Porcupine model above, place the dwarves or halfling (fighters) with high AC (again, armor and shield) in the front rank.  These characters also have hurled weapons for that first missile volley, which halflings get a +1 bonus to.   Behind them are fighters or clerics (elf or human) that can use missile weapons or spells (but not magic-users!  They’re squishy!)  The characters in the second rank should also have spears, if possible, for any enemies that survive and close in to melee.

The Fellowship

 

The Gnashing Murder-Hole (aka Vagina Dentata)

A few players may balk at using an average, 1d6 damage side arm (assuming variable damage,) trying to hold on to the extra two points of damage of a long (normal) sword like a security blanket.  That’s fine.  In this case, leave the center of the first rank open to make room for those hacks, slashes, and bludgeons.  The center character in the second rank can then employ a missile weapon or even hurled, flaming oil, to punish enemies while remaining under the protection of the first rank.  

 

The Gnashing Murder-Hole

The Barbarian Horde    

Similarly, some players just love big, two-handed weapons.   I don’t recommend these at Basic levels, but what can you do?  If some players just want to live their best, barbarian lives, then they could form their party like so.

The Barbarian Horde

 Grognar gets to swing his manhood compensation all around while the other characters can attack with missile weapons first, then polearms from the safety of the second rank.  If and when the berserking barbarian has fallen (and the player has learned their lesson, like I had to in a previous campaign,) the rest of the party can step over their beefy corpse and continue to fight in tight formation as Mars and Jupiter intended.

R.I.P. my nameless, barbarian fighter.  A skeleton’s spear took you from us too soon.  You are gone, but not forgotten.

The Vampire Hunters

This is a specialized formation for dealing with the undead, especially the energy-draining kind which you really don’t want to get too close to (or at all!)

Following the model of the Turtle-Porcupine, place the cleric in the center of the first rank, with armor, shield, and holy symbol to turn away the unholy minions of Orcus.  The rest of the front rank can then pelt the fleeing terror(s) with hurled or missile weapons (holy water, flaming oil, or silver work great here.)  The cleric has enough AC to handle any that resist the turning attempt and close in, while the other fighters can engage them in melee.

The Vampire Hunters

 

Conclusion

A hard-learned lesson in getting back into old school play was that characters, especially, fragile low-level ones, need to fight as a combined, small force to survive.  Old school (A)D&D parties need to have more than 3-5 characters.  This is where hirelings and henchmen come in.  Players should learn to fight as a team in formation (marching order) with a phalanx model like the Greeks and Romans.  They should employ the best AC and HP as an outer defense, hurled weapons for a first attack, then switch to layers of thrusting weapons like spears and polearms for melee.  This allows for fresh fighters to relieve the wounded and killed, and protects specialists like thieves and magic-users.  Group initiative and phased combat helps players and GMs get into this formation-fighting concept.

Next time, we'll explore some individual combat strategies for characters.  See you soon!

Lessons from the OSR Part VI – Combat!

 If you’re been patiently waiting for the return of this series while my attention flitted elsewhere, welcome back!  If this is as confusing (not to mention uncomfortable now) as Leonard Part 6, then check out the first post of this ongoing series, and welcome as well!

I’ve had some time to collect my thoughts on this series, which has kind of been all over the place, so I wanted to return with a “POW!”, “BIFF!”, and whatever the hell “ZLOTT!” is (my money is on a magic missile or lightning bolt.)  Therefore, we will cover what I’ve learned about old school combat and how to better understand it as a game master (GM.) 

Fun tip: make cue cards of these and show them at random to the players when they roll a natural 20.

The first thing you need to know about old school combat is that the Original game didn’t have any rules for combat per se.  At this point in its infancy, the game was essentially a supplement to enrich your freeform (free kriegsspiel,) fantasy wargames, specifically ones using the Chainmail rules.

Combat rules sold separately

The combat rules that are now so well-known (roll d20 to hit armor class) were an alternative to the rules in Chainmail, which were included as a simple backup if the consumer didn’t own a copy (which often became the case.)

Now, I’m not saying that you need to dump the alternative-turned-official combat rules to be a true, old school Scotsman.  Besides, the ”mad lad” known as the Basic Expert already made a what-if type of retroclone using Chainmail rules for combat with the Original game, for those interested in that kooky, but creative option.

However, I feel even a cursory look at the Chainmail rules can inform your understanding old school combat rules and methodology.  I know that money’s tight these days, so I’m going to summarize a couple of salient points here so you can just check out Chainmail on your own time and as funds allow.

First, Chainmail has multiple game modes; about 2-3: a medieval army wargame, a jousting game, and a “man-to-man” skirmish game.  Note how these loosely connect with the game modes of old school (A)D&D: Dungeons are pretty much “man-to-man” (or monster-to-man!)  The Wilderness can use both the army or “man-to-man” game rules depending on the encounter, plus the jousting game in the corner case of encountering a fighter’s castle in the wilds (where they might challenge the players for their stuff.)  Of course, the Domain game is pretty much all clashing armies and sieges.

CRY HAVOC!!!

Second, Chainmail helps fill in the blanks of the alternative combat system; perhaps not specific rules outright, but concepts at the very least.  Many of these wargame concepts found their way to other editions of the game in some form or another.  Prime examples are morale (because most people and animals do not fight to the death,) and the weapon vs. armor table, which is cribbed from the “man-to-man” matrix, and if you remember, was likely gonked from the beginning.   

It is worth mentioning again that the Original game was a niche product for hardcore wargamers, so the creators likely assumed the reader would just know or be familiar with wargame concepts and be able to referee them effectively.
    

The “Alternative” Combat System, Abstraction, and Role-Playing

Before we get into the mud, blood and havoc cries of combat, I want to point out something that occurred to me about (A)D&D combat; a kind of paradox, if you will

(A)D&D combat has an identity crisis.  It tries to be both abstract and concrete; both a whole-unit and singular-figure skirmish game.

What do I mean by this?  Well, certain things in (A)D&D combat must be dealt with in the abstract while others require drilling down to more concrete rulings by the GM.  The foremost examples of the abstract parts of (A)D&D combat are hit points (HP) and armor class (AC.)

Hit Points

If I had a dollar for every heated discussion I’ve seen online in the past about hit points being “meat”  (i.e. physical damage,) or luck, I would be a wealthy man sipping mai tais and snorting happy powder from a shapely, bronzed bottom that has been tanning on my fancy yacht twelve nautical miles from giving a figgly-fugg about the world, but instead I’m writing a blog…about old nerd games.  Thing is, that argument was settled a long, long time ago (on this planet, even!)

Yes, Gina!  Hit points are both of (or all) the things.  In the First Edition, AD&D Player’s Handbook, author Gary Gygax put the argument to bed (or so he thought):

“…A certain amount of these hit points represent the actual physical punishment which can be sustained. The remainder, a significant portion of hit points at higher levels, stands for skill, luck, and/or magical
factors…

…Thus, the majority of hit points are symbolic of combat skill, luck (bestowed by supernatural powers), and magical forces”

Therefore, a first-level Cyneric the Veteran fighter is mostly made up of beefy “meat” insofar as hit points, but Cyneric the Hero or Superhero fighter’s hit points are largely made up of skill, luck, and/or the better side of destiny.  The “damage” he takes isn’t really physical damage, but flesh-wounds, dodges, parries, near-misses, feints, etc.  That 50-foot fall that would kill an ordinary person?  Nothing but Hollywood magic for higher-level characters.  The fall still hurts (a lot,) but maybe the character bumped into some things that slowed their fall to some bumps and bruises, a sprain, or whatever.  It doesn’t matter!  It’s abstract!  Yes, I may have fibbed a little when I said (A)D&D characters don’t have plot protection.  They do, and it’s called hit points, but when those are gone, so is your character’s plot protection.  Buh-bye!

Being that my dear readers are likely possessed of above-average Intelligence scores (you rolled 4d6 and dropped the lowest, huh?), I bet the gears and lights in your head are going off about the abstraction of “hits” in general: is weapon damage abstract too?  Are hit rolls really one attack, or a series of attacks, or either?  Yes, yes, and yes!  Give yourself a gold star!  Go you!

A “to hit” roll is an abstraction of the effectiveness of attacks that round rather than the results of one particular slash of a sword or thrust of a spear (but it still could be, with missile weapons and cases like called shots, see below.)  Concurrently, variable weapon damage (as of the Greyhawk supplement and later) may or may not correlate to how big or scary a weapon is.  Other factors may come into play, such as the perceived skill or effectiveness of the “unit” using it.  Since AD&D, for example, the crossbow has been considered woefully under-powered in comparison to the longbow, but consider that the lower damage may be because crossbowmen are a cheaper, lower value unit than longbowmen, which require more time train, and have an appropriate, higher point unit cost in Chainmail; food for thought.  

So the key takeaway here is that in old school (A)D&D, a “hit” is not necessarily a hit, and “damage” is not necessarily damage.  Capiche?

This leads me to my first tip for GMs concerning “to hit” rolls: don’t feel the need to describe what happens with every roll.  I used to do this, but it would just kill suspension of disbelief as I attempted to rationalize the difference between  one hit point of damage and six, plus it just slows down play.  Again, it doesn’t matter.  What happens when a character reaches zero hit points or less is probably more important for those that are interested in the role-playing aspects of the game.  

While I’m not really into the role-paying game (RPG) reality show Critical Role and GM Matt Mercer’s way of doing things (I get a bad taste in my mouth just thinking about it,) there is one thing he does that I approve of, which is letting a player describe that last kill-hit on an opponent or monster.  It throws a bone to players that want a little more role-play and is in keeping with the abstraction concept of hit points.

I think I’m gonna vomit…excuse me…

Armor Class

The other (somewhat) abstract concept in old school (A)D&D is armor class.  Even though it is expressed as a (descending) number, it is not a target number to roll in old school games like in newer editions, but really a category of the effectiveness of the armor worn (and/or shield carried.)  Third class armor (plate) is better than Seventh class armor (leather) like First Class is better than Business, Business is better than Coach, and you will never know because that’s all you can afford on your paltry salary, peasant!

Leave plate armor to your betters!  A flea-bitten, leather gambeson should be enough for the likes of you!

The system was apparently drawn from one of co-creator Dave Arneson’s warship games about ironclads in the Civil War going at each other in futility, which he then extrapolated to armored warriors beating each other into scrap; seems legit to me!

Knight 1: “Look, you stupid bastard, you’ve got no hit points left!” Knight 2: “Yes I have!  Look!” (*shows character sheet*)

Therefore, armor class is a measure of the chances that a “hit” on a character will be effective (as in grievous wounding or death,) and not necessarily how difficult a character is to strike.  "But Weregrog!"   I hear you say.  "Doesn’t Dexterity modify opponent's hit rolls or AC since at least the Greyahwk supplement?   Got you now, you poser!"

Well, look who knows so much!  Maybe I should let you write this so that I can go back to my imaginary yacht!  Yes, there is some element of agility that factors into AC, clearly, but this is a small aspect of its abstract nature.  The real factor of an agile, skilled, and/or lightly-armored fighter is not AC, but hit points.

Let me explain…actually, I’ll let Black Vulmea (the blogger, not Robert E. Howard’s pirate character) from the Really Bad Eggs blog explain, because he put it so succinctly back in 2012.  Check it out, and in the meantime, I’ll sip my drink and fantasize about that yacht.

I know the Cutty Sark Whisky ship is technically a clipper, and not a yacht, but that’s all I could imagine since I grew up on these 'booze n babes' commercials.   Maybe that’s why I’m so messed up.

 

Now that we understand each other about the abstractions of AC and HP, (as well as my possible alcoholism and misogynistic tendencies,) let’s move on to juicier fare.

Critical Hits, Called Shots, and Other GMing Bugaboos

The abstractions of hit points an armor class in (A)D&D will often run counter to the granularity necessary for creative players’ decisions in combat.  What’s a GM to do when a player wants to disarm an orc, or decides to “go for the eyes, Boo!  Go for the eyes!”?

“RRRAAASK”?!   (Being that Minsc and Boo are copyrighted characters, I opted for their “Great Value” knockoffs.)

Different editions have had different solutions for this problem, whereas you could argue that the creators if the Original game didn’t think it was a problem at all, since they likely trusted the GM to make rulings suitable for their tables.

The second Supplement for the Original game, Blackmoor, had hit location/critical hit tables, but these were kind of messy, and were abandoned by Basic and Expert+ versions of the game in addition to the Advanced game.  The First Edition of the same actively dissuades the GM from using hit location and critical tables, while the Second Edition places the decision back in the GM’s hands, with advice on what could happen either way (using critical hits or not) and introduces a “called shot” (specific attack maneuver) mechanic with a 20% penalty (-4) for characters attempting them.  The Third Edition later makes the misguided decision of making these attempts woefully punitive, with both the -4 penalty and a chance for the opponent to have a free “attack of opportunity,” unless the player pays the price for the appropriate “feat” for one, specific maneuver.  As I’ve mentioned before, the more a character has on their sheet, the less they can actually do.

Personally, I prefer the Second Edition way of doing called shots.  The -4 penalty makes things a little difficult for low-level characters, but is largely a nonissue for heroic-level characters (esp. fighters.)  There is an important caveat, however: I respect the abstract nature of (A)D&D combat.  In other words, nothing permanent or fatal happens unless hit points are at zero, since these also denote a character’s luck and skill at avoiding terrible injury.  No severed limbs, gouged eyes, plucked organs, or rolling heads;  i.e. no auto-kills.  I am all for that noble paladin employing the Obi-Wan Strategy to subdue a malefactor, but it just doesn’t happen as intended unless that HP has been depleted first.

Pictured: the Obi-Wan Strategy (don’t worry, Ponda Baba still has one hit point left…I think.)

For less-than-lethal called shots (disarms, trips, grapples, sand-in-the-face, Three Stooges antics, etc.,) I allow the victim a saving throw, since I feel it is reasonable for stronger, more experienced characters and monsters to not fall for these tactics as much or as often.  Players, being humans after all, tend to be creatures of habit, so they'll get lazy and spam the button of a tactic that works over and over until it doesn't work anymore.  This keep them on their toes.

When it comes to critical hits of any kind, I tend to leave the choice up to my players, with the understanding that what is good for the goose is good for the gander (their opponents can have critical hits too.)  This often dissuades them from using such mechanics; probably because fantastic medieval worlds don’t have much in the way of disability compensation for veteran dungeon delvers.

Dear Adventurer, a review of your disability claim by the Department of Dungeoneers’ Affairs (DA) has concluded that since only one of your testicles was torn off by the owlbear during your tour of duty in the Caves of Chaos, you are only entitled to a 10% disability rating.  Thank you for your service.

 

Conclusion

In order to get back into old school (A)D&D combat, I felt I had to understand its origins as a multi-mode wargame and reconcile the abstract and concrete aspects of the "alternative" combat system, so that that I could rule on these as a GM more effectively.  I have come to terms with the idea that (A)D&D combat has an identity crisis, but I’ve found it can be a feature rather than a bug as long as one understands its limitations and can work with them instead of against them.

In our next installment, we’ll continue to talk about combat and how it applies to player characters, along with some tips, and tactics, such as how effective, old school adventuring parties should fight as a unit rather than individuals.

See you then!

Just when you thought Mr. Murder Hobo wasn’t making an appearance this post…you get an entire party!

The Royal Barrows III: Barrow of the King

 While the stories of both the Temple of the Snake Cult and the Royal Barrows have been told, this is not the whole of it, and the fateful raid on the Temple was no simple matter.

King Cyneric lost many allies in his crusade against the Snake Cult.  The jovial old Korsario, Aleksandro, who inadvertently saved the Northman from the fate of a galley slave, taught him the bloody ways of the Southern Seas, and eventually made him his first mate (later his successor.)  His prodigious belly was cut from groin to stern by Xor, one of the Cult’s Champions, but the once-feared Korsario nevertheless died with a bloody smile on his lips: “Retirement was not that fun, my friend.  I had enough cheap wine and cheaper women to last me ten lifetimes!  This way is much better…”  The ferocious dwarf Stygg, who had once been a foe of Cyneric’s until stalemate after stalemate caused them to develop a grudging respect for each other, had his stubborn and stone-like head caved in by the Champion Thomgrir’s war-hammer.  The enigmatic and fey sword-sorceress Vileniiya, who joined the company more out of arcane self-interest than any genuine affection for the Northman, uttered her final spell when the lucky spear throw of an oor-man guard pierced straight through her soulstone and into her tender throat.  And the noble Templar Valios: blinded by snake’s burning venom before falling to an ignoble end down the inky fathoms of a pit – how Cyneric would miss their heated discussions on the nature of the gods by the firelight.

This left the Barbarian King and the Amazon Beltis to track down the High Priest in the cavernous depths under the Temple alone, while the remainder of their band of ex-sellswords, cutthroats, and other misfits secured the Temple above.  Beltis was already wounded on her side, while Cyneric bled from many cuts.  The High Priest had thus far eluded the band through many foul tricks and traps, and he had yet one more under his silk-and-snakeskin sleeve.  

They finally cornered the High Priest deep in the caverns, where ruins older than even the Temple existed.   However, the Priest just smiled at the pair as he pulled a bronze lever, which opened a massive, stone doorway.  From this lightless deep emerged throngs of snake-men  to assail the two.  Cyneric and Beltis were forced to fight beyond human exhaustion into the manic state of the berserk.  Time ceased to have meaning as foul, ophidian parts fell all around them like some sickly harvest.

The Temple concealed many horrors below.

At last, when no more of the misbegotten snake-things would come from those howling depths, the Barbarian King stalked toward the cowering High Priest – all his cunning means and serpent-trickery spent.  Without a word, Cyneric severed the Priest’s depraved head with the Sword of Lantika in one flashing, blue stroke, cutting cleanly through helm and neck.  Thus the Snake Cult was no more.  But as the High Priest’s head rolled away, it somehow managed to utter a final curse at the Northman, which echoed through the cavernous halls:

 “I curse thee thrice, defiler!
May your dreams in the dark hours be ever haunted!
May your bloodline drown in stagnant ichor!
May your soul become lost, forever a Fear in the night!”

 At the time, Cyneric thought this was merely the impotent babble of a defeated foe.  But soon enough, his dreams began to take on a sinister character, which became more and more frequent.  The snake-haunted nightmares took a heavy toll on his body and mind, though he refused to admit it.  His otherwise joyous union to now Queen Beltis produced no issue, and the vultures in his court began to circle.  Beltis suggested turning to the priestesses of Althea for aid, and with their intervention, and perhaps the distance away from the Cult’s shattered Temple and its foul energies, the Queen was able to conceive.  The happiness of having Prince Connel was marred only by the King’s worsening condition.

Though he did not particularly like it, the Barbarian King consulted over a hundred sages, soothsayers, and priests seeking a solution to his problem, receiving over a hundred answers to his predicament in turn; none alleviated the nightmares.  It was then that Cyneric, grimly resigned to his fate as stoically any Northman, came up with a plan: to be buried in a Barrow blessed by his gods, and for his successors to also be buried with the blessings of any other gods of the land, thus hedging his bets against whatever dark powers were behind the Cult and the High Priest’s curse.  He decided these Barrows should be both away and between the Temple and his City, so that they would form a shield against the curse.

It was almost as if Cyneric knew that his time in this world was finished, for the very next night after his Barrow had been completed, his once mighty and indomitable heart gave out.

For a time, the King’s plan worked, and Alkastra prospered under the aegis of Queen Beltis and later King Connel; even sometime after they too had passed.  But it seems as if this only delayed the inevitable.  Within a few generations, Cyneric’s descendants fell to decadence, squabbling, and disregard for what their predecessors had built.  Thus the Barbarian King’s line was broken and the Royal Barrows succumbed to the Snake Cult’s curse.

The curse of the Snake Cult endures.

Barrow of the King Encounters (2d6)

2. A gelatinous cube
3. 1d8 stray Amazon shadows
4. 3d4 humanoid zombies
5. 2d6 patches of green slime on the ceiling
6. 4d6 skeletons
7. 4d8 gobb-men (goblin) sentries
8. 1d6+1 hobb-men (hobgoblin) sergeants
9. 2d4 baern-men (bugbear) guards
10. 1d6 giant (tiger) beetles; pets of the baern-men
11. 1d3 paralyzing mucus crawlers, attracted by the smell of carrion
12. 1d3 giant (tarantula) spiders

Barrow of the King Key

Room 11: Gobb-men Watch Post 

The architecture of King Cyneric’s Barrow is a little cruder than the later Barrows.  The stone walls feature imposing reliefs with Northern runes that relay an accounting of his life and deeds for the Giant Lords to judge.  

Inside the chamber are three (3) gobb-men lazily standing watch.  If alerted, one will attempt to flee and warn the rest of the garrison in Room 13.  And additional 2d4 gobb-men and one hobb-man sergeant will arrive from the next area.  The forces in the barrow will then be on a state of alert.  Encounters have a 2-in-6 chance of occurring for the next 1d4 hours.

Gobb-men (x3): HP 2, 1, 4 

There are a number of electrum pieces scattered about, which were pocketed by the gobb-men earlier, but have fallen out of the holes in their threadbare rags; 49 in total.

 The gobb-men were also guarding a break in the walls that leads into cavernous tunnels.  One end winds down to the Barrow of the Queen, where troglodytes collapsed it during their escape (see the Barrow of the Queen, Room 6,)  The other leads to a wooded cave outside, about three miles (1 hour) from the Barrows in the direction of the Mantle Hills.

Room 12: Hobb-men Garrison

This central chamber splits off into separate galleries, forming a sort of antechamber supported by columns.  A central stone is surrounded by filthy sleeping skins scattered about a cookfire with a foul-smelling, perpetual stew in a pot.  The room is occupied by eight (8) gobb-men, two (2) hobb-men sergeants, and a baern-man heavy.  Part of the force may come to investigate Room 11, if they have been warned.

Gobb-men (goblins): HP 4, 2, 5, 7, 6, 3, 3, 1.
Hobb-men (hobgoblin) sergeants: HP 6, 9.
Baern-man (bugbear) heavy: HP 15.

 The central stone has the following carved in both Northern runes and the Common tongue:

"Here lies King Cyneric, First of His Name
The LION of Alkastra
Mighty he feasts in MOLNHEIM with LIONESS dexter and CUB sinister
Watching over his Jeweled SPEAR
To trample the SNAKES under the Earth.

May his Lords above find his saga worthy of their Hall"

In the back of the stone is a secret alcove with a small, hand-sized plaque inside.  The plaque is made of bronze and is embossed with the image of a Northern style hall in the clouds ("Cloud Hall".)  This plaque is required to solve the puzzle in Room 14.

Room 13: Haunted Memories

These six, concentric galleries depict King Cyneric’s adventures and valorous (often foolhardy) deeds along its walls.  Each of the crude reliefs and writings in runes and Common script tell a story of a pivotal moment in the King’s life with a featured artifact related to that time, resting in an alcove opposite of the central chamber (Room 12.)  Touching or holding the artifact in that room causes the character and those in a 15-ft. radius to fall unconscious, as their minds are transported to a dream-like, phantasmal memory where a portion of Cyneric’s spirit is trapped in a cycle of failure, in stark contrast to the actual tale told on the walls.  

The PCs can help the Barbarian King’s lost spirit by setting each memory right, thereby freeing him from the control of the hobb-man priest in Room 14 (see below).

The memories are illusory in nature, and any lost hit points, spells, or items are restored at the end of it.  Characters that are “killed” are removed from the memory, but continue to be unconscious from their realistic impact (treat as a sleep spell.)  Failing a memory (typically with Cyneric’s death) causes it to end, but the PCs may try again as often as they’d like.    However, a turn of game time passes each time the PCs attempt a memory, which could result in a random encounter. 

After a memory is completed successfully, there is a tangible sense of peace and serenity in that gallery from that moment onward.  Any encountered undead may not enter that particular gallery.

The galleries and their corresponding memories are as follows:

13a. Cyneric the Northman: This gallery tells the story of a young and beardless Cyneric participating in clan raids with his fellow Hillmen, culminating in his now legendary victory over the hill giant Arngrir.  Artifact: a notched, iron hand-axe.

In the haunted memory, the PCs find themselves in a snow-covered, Northern pine forest in the middle of a battle between Hillmen and vicious Picts under the leadership of the fearsome giant.  The impetuous Cyneric charges the giant, but is swatted away like an insect, his notched, iron hand axe falling just out of reach.  Arngrir then crushes the young Hillman into paste with his gnarled, bone-studded tree club.

To aid Cyneric, the PCs must get the iron axe close enough for him to reach it, but there is a group of war-maddened Picts between them and the axe.  The PCs could try killing the hill giant, but that could be beyond their abilities, plus it would rob Cyneric of his glory and rightful story (failing the memory, but the GM should feel free to grant the PCs some experience for besting a giant!)

Picts (berserkers x8): HP 5, 9, 5, 4, 5, 9, 4, 7

With axe in hand, Cyneric is able to cleave one of the giant’s leg tendons, bringing the massive creature to the ground.  The young Hillman then clambers up the giant’s back, grapples his neck, and with a straining effort, snaps it like that of a sacrificial aurochs slain to honor Corum and the other Giant Lords at harvest time.

 

HNNNNNNG!

The hallway to the next area tells of Cyneric leaving the North for the Marklands after being on the losing side of a clan dispute.  He arrives in the city-state of Alkastra, where his youthful bravado and massive frame make him an asset in the dockside gang wars of that decadent city.  His success and ill-gotten loot pays for weeks of carousing, until he wakes up hung-over and penniless on a boat sailing down the Dragon’s Tongue to kingdoms south and beyond.

13b. Cyneric the Sellsword: The walls here depict Cyneric’s days as a sellsword for the various companies of kondottieri that make war for the highest bidder to this very day in the shattered principalities of the southern continent.  Cyneric adapts well to “civilized” warfare and eventually becomes a kondottiero captain himself.  Artifact: a battered, crested helm embossed with baroque designs.

The haunted memory places the PCs in the middle of the Siege of Malatestia.  The siege tower they are in is burning down and Captain Cyneric shouts orders to leave it for the castle battlements before it falls, even though the bridge is only half deployed (Dexterity check to jump onto the battlements, or suffer 3d6 falling damage; a merciful GM may allow a save against breath to hold on to the wall.)  

However, Cyneric is caught inside as it begins to shatter.  He leaps from the burning structure, barely grasping on to the castle wall, and his crested helm falls to the ground below. Crossbowmen on the battlements aim for the climbing Northman, and unless the PCs intervene, one gets a lucky shot and drives a bolt through Cyneric’s thick skull, sending him plummeting to a nameless end.  If they PCs can stop the crossbowmen, Cyneric is able to surprise the castle defenders from behind and cut them down like sheaves of grain – a key moment in that historical victory.

The Siege of Malatestia is where Cyneric earned his reputation as a formidable mercenary captain.

 If the PCs attack the crossbowmen, half (1d2+1) will engage them while the others continue to fire at Cyneric, who has an Armor Class of 6 [13].  The Northman can suffer 30 points of damage before a shot knocks him out of the wall.  However, if a crossbowman rolls a natural “20” on his attack roll, Cyneric must save against death (10 or better) or fall to his doom regardless of hit points.

Crossbowmen (x5): AL N; AC 5 [14]; HD 1-3 (HP 8, 1, 11, 12, 16); MV60 ft. (20 ft.); ATK 1d6 (crossbow) or 1d8 (long sword); SV F1-3; ML 12.

The Hallway to the next gallery depicts Cyneric’s band of rogue kondottieri raiding the poplar and olive-lined countryside until the Northman is betrayed by one of his own captains, the dwarf Stygg.  Cyneric is captured, tortured, and sentenced to row in a galley.

13c. Cyneric the Reaver: This gallery features Cyneric’s time as a korsario of the Southern Seas.  His ship, the Nemea, was caught in the trap of a treacherous alliance between rival korsario lords (which included the now Captain Stygg the Vicious,) and the fat, bejeweled, merchant princes which Cyneric’s raids had impoverished.  The merchants armed their vessels with expensive, imported bombards, easily disabling the Nemea.

However, the Northman-turned-pirate captain boards and captures Stygg’s ship (the Cormorant) instead and rams it (along with its cargo of blasting powder) into the merchant princes’ ship, sending all into the bloody, shark-infested waters.  Artifact: a torn, red pirate flag with the design of a black skull cleaved in twain by an axe.

This haunted memory has two segments.   In the first, Cyneric orders for the shattered and flaming Nemea to head straight for one of the korsario ships, in order to avoid any further bombard fire from the merchant’s vessel.  When the ships ram into each other, Cyneric brazenly orders his crew to board the Cormorant.  He takes down his red and black pirate’s flag from the Nemea’s mast to fool the merchant princes into thinking his ship has fallen.  It is then an all-out battle to take the Cormorant.  The GM should feel free to throw as many pirates at the PCs as they are able to handle, while Cyneric seeks out Captain Stygg for control of the ship.  The segment ends when the PCs are either dead, or victorious.

In the second segment, the PCs are at the helm of the recently-captured Cormorant, with the defeated Captain Stygg and the rest of his surviving crew bound and gagged.  They are slowly sailing towards the unsuspecting merchant princes’ vessel when Cyneric orders his pirate’s flag hoisted aloft to show the smug and plump coin-counters that their doom has come.  In the false memory however, the merchant princes quickly open fire on the Cormorant and sink it before it can become a threat.

The PCs have nine (9) rounds to reach the merchant’s vessel and ram it before their ship (with its remaining stores of powder) is destroyed in an explosion.  The merchant’s vessel fires their bombards every three rounds, starting with the first.  The volley causes 4d6 damage to the Cormorant (half on a successful save against breath; saves as the character steering the ship.)  The players have a few options in steering the Cormorant, and the GM should entertain any other ideas the players may have:

• Increase speed: reduces the time required to reach the merchant’s vessel by one round.  The ship then has a -1 penalty to save against the bombards.
• Maintain speed: no change in time or modifier to save against the bombards.
• Avoid volley: by steering hard to port or starboard.  This grants +2 to save, but adds one round to the total time required before contact. 

The Cormorant can take 50 points of hull damage before it is destroyed and the memory ends in failure.  If the PCs succeed in reaching the merchant vessel, Cyneric orders his crew to abandon ship (including a released Stygg and his men, which are unceremoniously thrown overboard) right before it rams into the shocked merchant princes in their ship, exploding into a conflagration of fiery chum.   Cyneric is knocked unconscious by the explosion's debris and plunges into the sea.

For one brief second, the merchant princes regretted their decisions.

The hallway to the next gallery depicts Cyneric’s dreamlike journey into the deep, where he somehow survives (he believed it was mermaids) to discover the Sword of Lantika within the strange ruins of that ancient and sunken kingdom.  It is evident the sculptors had a difficult time capturing the King’s descriptions of that strange quest.

13d. Cyneric the Slave-Warrior: Washing up on Far Western shores, Cyneric is captured, branded, and made to serve as a Mameluke in the unholy army of Sultan Mahzmed the Profane, whose slave-soldiers serve even after death.  Cyneric manages to rise through the ranks to attempt an ill-fated rebellion, which ends with the Northman languishing in the Sultan’s dungeons.  He escapes thanks to the help of the young wise-woman, Ziyamina; herself a slave to the profane Sultan.  She frees the Northman and leads him to the Sultan’s lotus-fumed sanctum.  

As Cyneric battles the Sultan’s undead eunuchs and fearsome, bound ifrit, Ziyamina uses the distraction to steal a scroll of holy scripture from Mahzmed’s sanctum.  With it, she is able to free the ifrit from service, who then gleefully slays Mahzmed before departing into the ethereal winds, ending the Sultan’s dark rule.   Artifact: a piece of parchment with faded scripture of the Elemental Dukes.

The haunted memory here is not so much about Cyneric, but Ziyamina attempting to sneak through the dungeons.  The PCs are not there physically, but seem to be in control of the wise-woman.  They must help her sneak to Cyneric’s cell while avoiding the guards.  Otherwise, she is captured and the haunted memory ends in failure.  There are three (3) guards patrolling the dungeon halls between her and Cyneric’s cell.  The writer recommends using miniatures or tokens to show Ziyamina’s and the guards’ positions for this encounter.

Dungeon encounter map

The guards have torches and a detection distance of 40 feet in the direction that they are facing and are considered to be in a “passive” state.  If a guard detects Ziyamina’s presence, they become “suspicious,” and will approach Ziyamina’s location at half speed.  If she is within their direct sight distance at 20 feet or less the following round, they become “hostile” and attempt to apprehend her (combat ensues.)  

A “hostile” guard returns to a “suspicious” status in 1d6 rounds if they cannot find Ziyamina (she is either away or blocked from detection distance,) and revert back to a “passive” status 1d3 rounds after if they still cannot find her.

Roll 1d6 to determine what a guard does each round they are “passive.”  If Ziyamina is standing still (such as flat against a wall or corner) that round, add +1 to the roll.  If Ziyamina moves at half speed (30 feet), there is no modifier.  If Ziyamina is moving at full speed (60 feet,) subtract -1.  If the result is illogical (such as the guard walking into a wall or obstruction,) then have the guard follow the most logical path around the wall or obstruction.

0. Guard state changes to “hostile” and actively moves in the direction of Ziyamina to apprehend her.  If he passes other guards within 40 feet, they become “hostile” as well.

1. Guard state changes to “suspicious” and moves 60 feet in the direction of Ziyamina.  If he passes any other guards within 40 feet, they become “suspicious” as well.

2. The guard believes they heard or saw something, and moves 60 feet in the direction he is facing.  He is still considered to be in a ”passive” state, however

3.  The guard faces left or right (roll 1d6: odd=left, even=right,) moves for 60 feet, then changes direction left or right again (roll 1d6 as before.)

4. The guard turns around, and then moves in that direction for 60 feet.

5.  The guard faces left or right (roll 1d6: odd=left, even=right,) then moves for 30 feet in that direction.

6. The guard turns left or right (roll 1d6: odd=left, even=right.)

7+. The guard is distracted (scratches himself, yawns, etc.) and does not notice Ziyamina, even if she is within detection distance. +1 to the next roll.

 If a guard successfully attacks Ziyamina (fights as a 2nd-level fighter,) he is able to grab on to her.  A successful attack roll from Ziyamina in turn (fights as a 4th-level magic-user) breaks the guard’s hold and she is then able to then move to escape.  If two or more guards have successfully grabbed her, she is captured and the memory fails.

Once Ziyamina reaches Cyneric’s cell, the memory ends with the Northman subduing the guards and the two making their way towards the Sultan’s sanctum, setting the memory right.

Ziyamina (reading aloud): "In the most Holy and Unspeakable Name of the Great One and all the Dukes of the Elements: AKSUUN, ZARTUUS, KAYI'RI, QUAATIA, I release thee from service!  Go now in peace!"  Iftit: "Oh I will, kindest one, but first a debt must be repaid..."  Sultan Mahzmed: *screams cut off by gurgles*

The next hall shows Cyneric departing that strange land of white-washed walls, perfumed intrigue, and poisoned daggers back to the northeast with both his Sword and Ziyamina as companion.  

13e. Cyneric the Conqueror: Cyneric returns to Alkastra to find the city-state under the grip of Chaos-corrupted elves that swarmed from the western and northern woods to take the city in the name of restoring their lost, Fey kingdoms.  Their leader Xengar rules from a Throne of Skulls – a horrid thing fashioned from the unfortunate heads of the scions of the city-state’s nobility.  Cyneric forms a ragtag army of river pirates, smugglers, and gang members to retake the city from the elves.  Artifact: Xengar’s own slender skull.

Since we cannot have our Kingdoms back, we will rebuild them on the bones of Men!  So say the prophecies of the Four Crones and the Old Ones whom they serve.

 Cyneric uses his ragtag army to create multiple skirmishes around the city as a distraction while he leads a small force through the city’s cloaca to reach the Citadel from underneath.  This however, is a trap, and they find themselves surrounded by a contingent of Xengar’s forces beneath the stinking, maze-like tunnels.  Most of Cyneric’s force is slain in a hail of elf-arrows (save for Cyneric and the PCs themselves.)  It is then a cat-and-mouse game to help Cyneric escape the trap and reach the Citadel.  

The GM should have the players use the grossly-overpowered, yet possibly satisfying Cyneric along with their own characters to hack through the opposition, but if the Northman falls, the memory fails.

Corrupted elves (x24): AL C; AC 5 [14]; HD 1+1 (HP 4,7,6,5,7,7,7,6,9,3,6,9,5,2,9,9,7,5,2,8,8,3,5,5,7,6,8,3,4,4); MV120 ft. (40 ft.); ATK 1d6 (long bow) or 1d8 (long sword); SP spells; SV E1; ML 8 (10 while leader is alive.)

Corrupted elf leader: AL C; AC 5 [14]; HD 5 (HP 16); MV120 ft. (40 ft.); ATK 1d6 (long bow) or 1d8 (long sword); SP spells; SV E5; ML 10.

Cyneric the Northman: AL L; AC 2 [17]; HD 8+3 (HP 60); MV 60 ft. (20 ft.); ATK 1d10+4 (Sword of Lantika); SP +4 to hit (Str 18, Sword of Lantika); SV F8; ML 12.

Sewer battle map

 If they succeed, the PCs see a vision of Cyneric reaching Xengar’s throne room, where the Fey lord sits smugly behind a field of magical Chaos around him.  Cyneric throws the Sword of Lantika like a spear, and the glowing weapon cuts through the shield and straight into Xengar’s sternum, impaling him to the throne.

The exit hallway shows Cyneric taking the crown of Alkastra for himself, becoming King along with Ziyamina as his first Queen.  This brazen act would later cause problems with the city-state’s nobility.

13f. Cyneric the King: The last gallery depicts King Cyneric’s rocky rule and triumph over a coup attempt by a cabal of disgruntled nobles.  His success is dampened by terrible grief when Queen Ziyamina passes away giving birth to their second child.  A long period of peace comes later, only to an end when Cyneric’s spoiled children are seduced by the Snake Cult, and plot to assassinate their own father.  The story ends with King Cyneric’s battle against the Snake Cult, the raid on their Temple, and beheading of the High Priest.  The alcove where an artifact from this time should be lies empty.  There is no haunted memory here.

If the High Priest’s helm (see the Temple of the Snake Cult Level 3, Room 28,)  is placed on this alcove, and all the other haunted memories of the King have been set right, the PCs witness a vision of the raid on the Temple and Cyneric’s triumphs over the snake-men and High Priest.  When the vision ends, the helm begins to heat up to a melting point, and reforms as a hand-sized, bronze plaque embossed with an image of intertwined or conjoined snakes (“Snakes”) this item is required to solve the puzzle in Room 14.

In addition, Cyneric’s restless spirit will no longer be under the control of the hobb-man priest (see Room 14 below.)

Room 14: King Cyneric’s Pyre

The center of this chamber is dominated by a stone slab carved with runes.  Within is an ancient pile of charred wood, ashes and bones from King Cyneric’s funeral pyre.  A baleful circle with six, glowing Chaos runes has been drawn around the slab by the room’s occupant: a hobb-man priest of the Snake God and his baern-men bodyguards.  King Cyneric’s suffering spirit, now a special, sword-wielding spectre, is under the control of the priest, who will unleash him against any intruders.  King Cyneric’s spectre rises like a cyclone from the pyre's remains.

Hobb-man Priest: AL C; AC 2 [17]; HD 5 (HP 21); MV 60 ft. (20 ft.); ATK 1d6 (mace); SP spells; SV C5; ML 10.

Spells: cause (light) wounds, curse (reversed bless), protection from evil, silence (15 ft. radius)

Baern-men (bugbear) bodyguards (x2):  HP 16, 14

King Cyneric’s spectre: HP 32; ATK 1d10 + energy drain (2 levels)

Restoring any one of the six haunted memories (see Room 13) causes one of the Chaos runes around King Cyneric’s pyre to fade away.  If the PCs have restored all of the King’s memories, his spectre will be free to turn on the hobb-man priest and his bodyguards when the priest tries to command him.  

The freed spectre will not attack the PCs unless they attack him first (as he has some strange recollections of them as allies in his past.)  However, the Snake Cult’s curse persists, and King Cyneric’s spectre will attack them later if they attempt to force open the doorway to Room 15, or incorrectly place the bronze plaques (see below.)  The spectre will also return after a full turning of the moon (one month) even if the PCs manage to slay it.

Within the King's remains is a hand-sized, bronze plaque embossed with an image of a maned lion (“Lion”) this item is required to solve the puzzle door to the Treasure Vault (see below.)

 

Room 15: Treasure Vault

The stone door to this room is locked by a complex mechanism of six, hand-sized slots in a cross-like pattern, where the bronze plaques found elsewhere in the Barrows seem to fit.  The solution to the puzzle is contained in each of the inscriptions for the Prince, Queen, and King.  The correct placement is as follows:

Puzzle solution

Once the plaques are placed correctly, the stone door opens to reveal a vault filled with King Cyneric’s tomb treasures:

• 6,000 sp
• A kingly portrait of Cyneric (he hated the damn thing, but it is worth 1,400 gp to the right buyer due to the now famous and long-departed artist.)
• A woven, horsehair  tapestry of steppe nomads with semiprecious gems sewn in for colors; worth 1100 gp
• Two brass statues of mermaids on rocks with splashing waters worth 550 gp each.
• A crystal figurine of an elf with gold and gem-encrusted spear and shield, worth 1400 gp
• A gold, drinking flagon with the shape of a woman astride a dragon worth 1200 gp
• A marble bowl carved with images of ancient warriors around it worth 800 gp
• A ceremonial suit of plate with intricate, etched designs.  It is nonmagical, but worth 700 gp
• A simple gold crown with moonstone, garnets, and runestones worth 1500 gp
• A curious bronze rod, which is the lever that opens the gate to Level 4 in the Temple of the Snake Cult (see Room 28 of the Temple.)

King Cyneric’s greatest treasure hovers on an adjacent plinth: his mighty Sword of Lantika.  Talking the sword immediately causes King Cyneric’s spectre to appear and rush the character holding it.  However, the sword glows with an otherworldly blue light and strange, geometric patterns as it absorbs the spectre into it, seemingly exorcising or banishing the cursed spirit.  Regardless, the King's spirit is now a part of the sword.

Sword of Lantika

The Sword of Lantika is said to have been the symbol of the rulers of the lost Kingdom of Lantika, which once held sway from their moving island in the Southern Seas due to their possession of arcane crafts and other sorceries said to originate from the City of Humankind itself.  According to the priests of the Lords of Law, the Lantikan’s sinful  use of the Dragon Father's crafts for self-aggrandizement instead of His glory, led to their island sinking under the waves, along with all their treasures. Their surviving descendants were scattered to the four winds on their shimmering, blue-and-gold-hued ships.

The Sword of Lantika is a magical, Lawfully-aligned, two-handed sword with a +1 bonus, and a +2 against nonhuman creatures aligned with Chaos.  The sword has a minor spirit, or Ey-ai, within that has fused with a portion of King Cyneric’s spirit.  It has Intelligence of 12, Ego of 12, and can speak Common with a heavy, Northern hillman’s accent.

The sword can see invisible objects, detect sloping passages and shifting architecture, and can cast clairaudience three times per day.  Its special and all-consuming purpose is to slay snake-men and any who worship the Snake God.
 

The Sword of Lantika holds a vestige of King Cyneric's spirit (which talks!)

This work includes material taken from the System Reference Document 5.1 (“SRD 5.1”) by Wizards of the Coast LLC and available at https://dnd.wizards.com/resources/systems-reference-document. The SRD 5.1 is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License available at https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/legalcode.