U3: The Final Enemy

The heroes finally made it to the third adventure in the trilogy, and one of the tougher modules in first edition DnD. In the last installment the characters assaulted the lair of the lizardmen whom they had discovered were purchasing arms from local smugglers near the town of Saltmarsh in Keoland. After a moderate amount of green gore and treasure grasping they discovered that the lizardmen were trying to form an alliance with other underwater humanoids to tackle a tribe of Sahaugin who had invaded their home on the border of Keoland and The Hold of the Sea Princes.

The module opens with the characters once more before the Saltmarsh council, discussing a reconnaissance mission along with a unit of lizardmen warriors and human marines. For a substantial fee the seven agree to enter the Sahaugin base and scope out the number of enemies, defences, leadership and so forth. Without further ado, the seven sail towards their mission....

To recap, we have Elangos (half-drow assassin), Crue (elven mage), Vicdak (half-orc fighter-cleric, and general hard-ass), Emelia (half-elf mage-thief), Loren (half-elf paladin of Pelor), Loki (human ranger) and Gideon (NPC cleric of Pelor). They also have the Sea Elf, Oceanus, with them.

They notice on arrival, during the daylight, that the sea level has risen up the side of the island that houses the lair. Instructing the ship to keep a fair distance, as the Sahaugin 'sea devils' may come patrolling, the characters, lizardmen, and marines land onto the causeway and enter the lair. Straight off they battle some Sahaugin guards, with some others through a lowered gate taking pot shots. Crue and Emelia dispatch their pseudo-dragon familiars through the bars and into the second chamber to activate the mechanism controlling the gate.

As the gate raises, the characters scrabble under and tackle the second room of guards whilst the lizardmen fight the first room full. The battle is swift and bloody, and moving from here the group explore the upper level. They find little beyond the alterations and building work that the Sahaugin and their slaves have done, taking notes on the layout and rooms. With luck they find a near-dead adventurer who tells them, in his dying breath, of the equipment of his deceased colleagues. With a bit of searching they find the hidden room, and the hoard of magic items that generate a rather long debate about who should get the Wand of Polymorph. Ultimately, Emelia grabs the wand and Elangos the cloak of the manta ray, and Vicdak the Ring of Free Action. With a few water breathing potions also discovered, they begin to wonder about what these items indicate.

It becomes apparent in the next room, after defeating the Sahaugin guards and freeing some slaves, as the stairs down to level two slosh with sea water. Emelia smartly uses the wand to polymorph Loren, Loki, Vicdak and herself into Sea Elves, with the potions shared between Crue and Gideon. And then they descend into the depths, slowed by the non-polymorphed members.

Moving through the murky depths the heroes headed south, discovering some rooms normally occupied by Sahaugin who are downstairs at the arena. They do find one chieftain who they kill quickly, and then a huge chamber full of women which they wisely avoid. Heading back north they stumble upon the vestry and quarters of the priestesses, who they discover in the temple about to engage in Sahaugin eugenics. A huge scrap kicks off with the characters focusing on the clerics, whilst the lizard men tackle the shark (by cunningly trying to get eaten and choke it...). Taking a few lumps, the players slay the priestesses, and bag the loot.

So with some quick healing, they swim further onwards and into a huge pillared chamber and then creeping to the portal into the throne room wherein are the toughest Sahaugin, including Baron, his elite guards, and the high priestess. Oh, and a shark.

A drama is unfolding: two Sahaugin are showing an unearthed stature to the Baron, and in its stony clutches is a glittering trident. As the players watch a robed figure materialises. He wears a mask, like  a Venetian mask with a joker-style leer. With a flourish he pulls loose the trident, is heard to say (through the water) "Ah, Wave, at last." And disappears.

The Baron looks about furiously as to where his newly discovered artefact had gone. And he sees the characters looking equally stunned. An epic scrap follows, with both the four-armed Baron and the pesky priestess proving tough to kill. But, with a few wounds, and a few dead lizardmen, they win! The Barons loot is discovered, and his vile missus is killed on discovery.

After this climax the adventurers head down and discover a barracks, and rather worryingly several score of Sahaugin pissed about their dead boss. The chase is on, and the characters barely escape the lair with the remaining lizard men, and the marines who had secured level 1. The boat comes to fetch them and they outrun the Sahaugin, returning to Saltmarsh with what info they've gathered and the news that the Sahaugin command are dead.

With the reward, treasure, and XP for killing some tough baddies, the characters all increase in level - and with a house in Saltmarsh as a gift, they gain somewhere to rest and recover....

The six characters are doing really well. Charlie's three are tough: Vicdak is a combat monster, now gaining double specialisation (from Unearthed Arcana); Crue is fourth level MU, with a big range of spells that I think Charlie plays a little too cautious, but who'll be rock-hard when he gets to 5th (fireball time); Elangos, although not as tough, now has a Ring of Invisibility, which is a big boost to an assassin.

Evelyn's trio are developing personality-wise. Emelia's thief abilities are a real bonus to the party, and she seems to do well in combat. I can see her being fun for some solo adventures. Loki has also gained a double specialisation level, with his skill being in the longsword. Loren, as a paladin 4 gains some great abilities, and his persona is evolving well. He's got a great AC as befits a righteous Crusader of Pelor. I think the ToEE will test them when they hit the second level and below.

And so onto the next classic... the Temple of Elemental Evil, and more revelations about the mysterious masked sorcerer (and his ultimate link to White Plume Mountain).

The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh (U1): the adventure begins.

One of the coolest things about Stranger Things is that it's rekindled my kids' interest in DnD, and ever the opportunist I've planned out a campaign from level 1 to 12, squeezing in all the classic modules in the Greyhawk setting. And what better place to begin than U1- The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh.

The characters, 6 in total are:
Loren: half-elf Paladin of Pelor (a Crusader) from Celene
Loki: human ranger from Duchy of Geoff
Emelia: half-elf thief-magic user from County of Ulek
Vicdak: half-Orc fighter-cleric of We Jas. His mother was Suel, hailing from the Wild Coast
Crue: elf Magic-user, from County of Ulek
Elangos: half-elf drow assassin (Flan origins on human side, from Duchy of Tenh, then onto Greyhawk city)

A rather bizarre group, with Elangos obviously masquerading as a fighter-thief type, with the dark Flan skin hiding his shameful Drow connection. Plenty of fun stored up for later in the campaign there (especially when they get to D1-3).

So the premise is that they are accompanying a cleric of Pelor called Gideon, who is delivering a secret message from the church in Ulek to some merchants in Hold of the Sea Princes, at Bale Keep. The first five are comrades, with Elangos employed by the Sea Prince merchants to guard the message. Gideon leads them overland through Keoland, via Dreadwood, to the marshy land on the edge of the Azure Sea.

The camp is disturbed by (apparent) bandits whom the party defeat but the horses scatter. Gideon's message is taken by a dark garbed figure, who calls an illusion of a stone dragon to cover his escape. Then he disappears into thin air!

Irritated by this Scooby-Doo style villain, the gang descend into the fishing town of Saltmarsh. Initially staying with the Blacksmith and his family, they sneak around and spy on a council meeting hearing an old sailor rattling on about ghosts and flashing lights at t'old manor. Eager to question him, Elangos and Emelia kick off a tavern brawl so as to snatch the sailor. He reveals the mysterious going on up at t'manor. The local constabulary give chase, and the pair do a runner over the rooftops.

Next day the fuzz turn up where they're staying, and after some Paladin sweet talking, go to the Council. They argue a fair bit, but ultimately offer to fund the characters to nose around the Haunted House. And so into the adventure!

It's soon apparent there's more going on than simple Scooby-Doo, and giant spiders and bugs. They go to the cellar pretty quick, find a secret passage into rooms used by smugglers. The legacy of the alchemist, a bunch of skeletons, and some golden apples. Then they find a passage and stairs to the hidden caves wherein an illusionist (the dude from earlier), with two gnolls, and a bunch of smugglers are laying in wait...

A great scrap ensues, with the characters victorious and they retrieve their message as well as clues about the Sea Ghost, the smugglers ship. The Council pay them to seek out the smugglers, and on the night the boat arrives they arrange signalling from the house whilst they row out. Gideon uses silence o mask their covert approach, and they board the ship via portholes. Sneaking through the rear of the ship, they tackle a bunch of crew in the hold, and then storm the deck. The battle is pretty close up above, but helped by a Sea Elf Oceanus. Just when the battle is almost won, three lizardmen burst out, and they win by a slim margin, but with no deaths on their side.

The adventure ends with a victorious return to Saltmarsh and a bundle of cargo to sell. And, of course, curious information about the  lizardmen and their purchase of weapons from the smugglers. Which leads neatly into the next module in the series, U2- Danger at Dunwater.

All in all a totally great time with old school AD&D, and one we hopefully will continue through until the Giants-Descent-Drow modules!

Wardrobes and warriors

 One of the key themes in my YA book is the idea of alternate worlds, namely worlds that exist in parallel to our own. For a writer this is a perfect device, as it is remarkably versatile in the way it covers all magnitude of possibilities. For me, at least in the first book, it is alternate history and the hint of a world where mythical creatures and magic exist (as biological and physics variants).

The use of alternate worlds is so rife in literature, film and television that it has become overly familiar to us as readers. My son, who I am hot-housing into a comic-loving, fantasy-reading, wargame-playing geek (like his dad) glibly speaks of other dimensions and parallel universes, not least because of the innumerable reboots of superhero franchises.

I loved the idea of alternate worlds as a kid, and it was Dr Who and Star Trek that really introduced them to me. But the idea really grew in my brain through the fantasy books I loved as a child, and the idea of normal folk entering a magical world that existed ‘alongside our own.’

If I had to pick a few that have stayed with me the first would have to be Alan Garner’s book, Elidor. Garner grew up not far from where I live now, and set many of his tales in the Manchester and Cheshire areas. Elidor tells the tale of four teenagers from Manchester who pass through a portal in a ruined church and into the fantasy land of Elidor. There they acquire three magical items – a cauldron, a stone and a sword- for the besieged king. They then take these back to our world, where they become mundane items. The evil forces from Elidor pursue them across the portal and into our world.

It was a superb example of fantasy read by kids, but of the quality and maturity that you expect from adult fantasy fiction. The tension of the work was superb, built by the curious effect of the magical items on electrical technology in our world. I loved the concept of a magical world, accessible from our own, and so it was no surprise that I moved onto CS Lewis from there.

Lewis’s books never really grabbed me as a kid. It may be that I was changing and was after something that felt less dated, or more mature, but the fifties style just didn’t hold my interest. Nonetheless the iconic nature of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe is unquestionable, and I can’t have been the only kid rooting around amongst my parent’s cupboards looking for a psychotic dwarf and some Turkish delight.

The parallel fantasy world is replete in children’s literature—Peter Pan’s Neverland, Alice’s Wonderland are famous classic examples—and the idea continues to pop up all over the place. Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series develops the idea in The Subtle Knife, as one of the main characters literally cuts his way between worlds; Neil Gaiman’s awesome Coraline has the heroine crawling through a rather creepy tunnel into a sinister ‘mirror’ world, full of button eyes.

As my tastes matured into more adult work, I found the theme still popular in ‘grown up’ fantasy. I finally got around to reading Donaldson’s Thomas Covenant last year (tried when younger and just got bored), which is the most notable example of modern man in fantasy world, and similarly Poul Anderson’s Three Hearts and Three Lions which again has a modern protagonist thrown into an Arthurian fantasy world. Even my last huge-read, Zelazney’s Amber decology, uses the idea at least in part, although the main characters are residents of Amber living within our world.

The popularity of the modern man/teen/child thrown into an imaginary world continues. It’s an appealing concept—how any of us would employ our modern knowledge and concepts in a land of magic and mysticism. In almost every example of the books the fantasy world acts to show the main characters that knowledge will only take them so far, and that the virtues of courage and bravery are the ones that are required to win the day.

And with the modern world the way it is at the moment, who wouldn’t want a parallel fantasy world to go and visit?

 

I am rather an expert on that....

Much in the way I never now watch any film rated more than 12 at the
cinema, and indeed actively seek out Pixar productions to watch (‘Up’
and ‘Finding Nemo’ are incredible films), my TV watching home has
regressed markedly over the last few years.

Now part of that is due to the fact that I enjoy reading, writing and
squinting at tiny Warhammer models whilst controlling my tremor with
gin. Another part is my wife’s predilection for soaps and housing
programmes (Property Porn as it is often referred to). And a
significant other part is that I got gloomed out by what was on offer.
After the Wire finished, Game of Thrones killed all the characters
off, and BSG re-runs disappeared I found that all me and the wife were
watching was gloom-vision. Specifically it was variants on forensic
murder programmes (CSI: Llandudno an so on) and now a range of
psychological thriller stuff (Hannibal, Criminal Minds, and now I hear
there’s a Psycho re-boot) that makes me want to go suck exhaust
through a hose-pipe. We escaped into fluff-cop shows like NCIS: LA and
Hawaii 5-0 with their pretty people and feel good banter, but now even
they’ve finished (both with a dollop of drama=torture=misery). So
what’s left to enjoy?

Well, kids TV as it turns out. As child #3 enjoys the new found
freedom of bed vs. cot (read open prison vs. maximum security) and our
new puppy Cockerpoo whimpers the house down from 0500h each morning, I
find myself OD-ing on Nick Jr’s Peppa Pig. Now I’ve been a PP fan for
a long while, in fact since it first aired on Terrestial TV on Ch5’s
Milkshake when Charlie was a toddler. But only in the last year can I
say that I’ve watched almost every episode to the degree that I have
my favourite scenes and can talk about character development.

 It’s so bloody good. Not only is the animation perfect—a combination
of simple childish line-style, with tiny intelligent touches—but the
characters and stories are a mirror of family life with kids. Rather,
family life with kids how it should be. Someone called it the
Simpson’s for under-5s, but I think that does it a disservice as the
acidic cynicism that pervades the Simpsons (and I do like that show)
is absent, and the patriarch of the Pig family, Daddy Pig, is no idle
selfish Homer. No, my friends, Daddy Pig is the model of fatherhood...
patient, yet not perfect, family-friendly, yet flawed.

He’s marvellous! They revolve entire episodes around mocking his big
round belly, which he takes almost graciously. He considers himself
‘rather an expert’ at many things, yet in practice his DIY is crap,
and he can’t speak fluent French. He strives at School sports day’s
Dad’s events, but his only great achievement is jumping in muddy
puddles which he approaches with a Taoist demeanour. He always loses
his glasses (as do I), enjoys a hearty meal, would give his last bit
of cake to the ducks, and runs very fast when chased by wasps... all
for charity. And he plays the drums and the accordion.

I could really go on about the other great characters in the show—the
workaholic Ms Rabbit; the guitar hero nursery teacher; Polly the
parrot; Mr Bull and his love of fine china; Grandpa Rabbit, voiced by
Brian Blessed; the useless Dr Hamster and her tortoise. But that’d be
a little tragic for a 41 year old to harp on about all the things he
genuinely enjoys in a show for toddlers. Yet, it’s so well observed!
Peppa can be really gobby, cheeky, mean to George Pig, but lovely and
curious and happy like all children. The toddlers in PP shower
fountains of tears at the drop of a hat—the episode where the ‘older’
kids run the toddler party is pure brilliance—it brings to mind taking
Charlie and Evelyn to some of the parties Henry has been invited to.
There’s Mr Potato and his strange Spanish accent, with his fruit
awareness day, and a theme park. And the trip to the museum to see the
space exhibit, with its tacky gift shop and £5 per ‘fun-photo’ is so
accurate it’s scary.

Ultimately that’s the essence of good kids TV and film these days.
Suitably fun stories with enough ‘in jokes’ to keep Mum and Dad
chuckling—hence why ‘Despicable Me’ rocks big-style, and I’d rather
watch ‘Up’ than another Tarrantino variant.

Embrace your inner immaturity! I am ‘rather an expert’ on that.

Ice-cream and Internet-voids

Just returned from a week away in the wondrous climes of South Devon and, surprisingly for the UK the weather was actually acceptable (for us this means only half the days begin with rain/snow/Tsunamis).  What this meant was the opportunity for what is known as a 'traditional holiday.'

Now clearly traditions vary across the world and indeed country. For some traditional holiday means incinerating upper layer of dermis and drinking until they are incontinent whilst the kids steal their cigs. For others it may involve exclusive hotels with a fabulous view of the poor (preferably within rock range). And for others Scrabble and domestics in a two berth caravan.

For the Kitsons it means something akin to the holidays I had as a child. I had a great upbringing, and part of that evolution was our summer holidays. For me it was Norfolk- a hotel in a small village near Cromer, which several families used to go to every year. It was beaches, and sea, and ice cream, and windbreaks, and imaginary adventures with my brother in the woods around the hotel. The wife's was similar, agreeably between Northern Victorian resorts like Scarborough and southern tranquility of Dorset.

In this day and age of data, electronic gadgets and Internet it feels almost more important to get back to basics. Where we go in Devon has an advantage of Mobile phone dropouts galore and no 3G. It's like an Internet void. And in an effort to capitalise this we had a hefty restriction on all gadgets in the family- no tablets, phones, 3DS etc- for most daylight time. And that extended to me: I left the phone in the cottage most days, and only picked up urgent messages on my return. It trod the fine line between liberating and unnerving ("what if my house is blown away by a tornado to Oz and someone needs to let me know..?")

And the 'tradition' that act honoured was to create some space, some opportunity, wherein my kids and me could find some common-time. Goofy stuff with sand, seaweed, buckets, shells and sea so cold it eliminated the prospect of a fourth child once and for all. Because as I lumber into middle-age I have become acutely aware that time sifts through my bony digits at an accelerating rate. Big Son is hitting High School this autumn, and although his geekiness  ensures we will maintain common interests for a good few years yet, gradually his friends and girlfriends will supplement my place in his life. 

Seems like a moment ago he popped out a worrying shade of blue and wailed baby-tongue for "welcome to the rest of your life, dude."

So I suppose the tradition of spending time with the kids without them tutting about me interrupting Minecraft is what we aspired to achieve. And I think, as I trawl through 500 e-mails and face a Twitter-mountain, that we managed it well. With the added bonus of ice-cream, of course.  And a castle... always a castle...

Pantophobia

I flogged one of my books to a lad I know at work, who has limited interest in my soap opera style epic fantasy, but has a missus who loves the stuff. She's a big Dave Eddings fan, and as my book has some similarity to the linear fantasy of the Belgeriad, I hoped she'd enjoy it.

I bumped into him the other day and asked how she was getting along with it. He said she was really get into it, but had to stop reading it one evening as a scene was terrifying her. I was a little taken aback- after all I chanced my 10 yr old lad reading it, and he wasn't fussed about the occasionally visceral scene or two, and he certainly wasn't scared (well I couldn't hear him scream whilst I watched telly downstairs).

It would seem it was an early scene where a Dark-mage chases the heroine Emelia through dark cobbled streets, and corners her in an alley. So, yeah, creepy... but, enough to make you stop reading?? Admittedly it may have just been her excuse, and she thinks it is a bobbins book....

It got me thinking about the nature of fears. It's a topic that comes up a lot in our house; after all, fear is a salient aspect of childhood. There's a commonality to fear with my two older kids, and then a divergence which typifies their personalities. Both had the separation fear, and the fear of loss that all kids have. That's something that lurks inside all of us, I think, that terror of isolation, of loneliness. They had a common fear of me and the wife splitting up. That stemmed (logically) from an abrupt swathe of people we knew separating. So every time me and t'wife get the arse on with each other about pointless stuff (I didn't tidy up, usually) the kids were wailing like drunken banshees about us not loving one another etc etc. All rational thus far.

But it's the differences which fascinate me. Charlie, with his vivid imagination, his heart on his sleeve, has fantastical fears. His fears were of the mythical and supernatural. I can recall him being scared witless by a kids spooky story where a boy gets turned into a doll. And that Dr Who episode where the girl traps a boy in a drawing. He was really freaked by it (actually I get that fear... I was disturbed by it too!!!). His has always been the monsters and the vampires and the ghosts.

Evelyn, ever pragmatic, was first scared of dangerous beasts. Sharks in the sea in Devon; box jellyfish in the English Channel; snakes, lions, venomous spiders in Yorkshire... She's moved on now to disease, after an ill-advised trip to Thackray's medical museum in Leeds. Now I'm continually questioned on a range of dire pathologies by her, whether small-pox is coming back, and how worried she needs to be about anthrax. It's like having a mixture of House and Jack Bauer inside an eight year old.

I think back to my childhood, and my fears were no less rational. I had the standard (for my generation) Dr Who scared moments (the Ruton in Horror of Fang Rock; the robot ventriloquists dummy in Talons of Weing Chiang... in fact anything involving Robert Holmes and his love of Gothic horror on Saturday tea-times). The ghosts and ghouls less so, but I recall one episode of the sci-fi series Sapphire and Steel, wherein people from photographs came to life... and this soldier had no face. I was terrified for weeks after that...

The only fear that remains is one of loss, and I suppose by extension of that the fear of death. These are the common fears of most. As you grow old you become afraid for others-- afraid my kids will run into problems, get hurt, get knocked over, and this eases your own somewhat. But every now and then you get a wrench in your gut about something...

So with all that lingering in the rear of our minds, why do we seek fear for entertainment? Why do we like to be scared? There's a huge market for horror, and by that I don't mean paranormal sparkly vampires, I mean good old fill your pants and spill your drink TERROR. And every weekend people jump off perfectly safe bridges with elastic bands on their back, just to get the feeling of hurtling towards a river four hundred feet below and not dying. We invite fear back into our lives quite readily. Why?

I suppose fear shares the same physiological response as any adrenaline surge: extreme excitement, preparing for battle, fighting, running for your life. But the situations we create now are sanitised, they are safe fear, far more than our ancestors ever could. The invisible spirit on Paranormal Activity isn't going to come out of the TV and drag you across the floor. The bungie rope is going to hold. The parachute will open. The free fall rollercoaster style ride won't splat you all across the bored queue below. And with any buzz, repetition equals less thrill. You can see as a society we seek more and more thrill, more condensed controlled terror, to sate our needs. Everything now is 'extreme.'

Yet,ironically, the fears we carry from our early days never really leave. The fear of loss, the fear of passing away perhaps before you have had time to do what you want or say what you need to. Is there a way of facing these fears, these anxieties, in a sanitised way? I'm not sure there's a way of making it cuddly, or disposable, or easy--but I think that by sharing fears with others, by accepting we all have those basic anxieties in common, we can learn to live with them a lot better.

Hang on... there's a scratching on the window....

(yeah, yeah, Salem's Lot joke... couldn't leave you on too much of a downer