Colorful Characters 22: Erol Gwindlin, and The Red Seamster

Not far from the human lands is a small elven village near the forest’s edge. It is a simple community of a few thousand elves. They are known for their fine bowers, and their mithril jewelry. They are also much more amicable and welcoming than elves are commonly known to be, and this has helped them to foster strong alliances with the nearby human folk. This elven village is a peaceful and happy place, where each year, one of those elves is killed. Murdered. It is a gruesome mystery which has renewed itself each fall for over a hundred years.

The bodies are left in a horrifying state. They are battered and smashed, always with skulls which have been caved-in by some monstrously heavy blow. It is a small mercy that the dead appear to have been killed quickly by this skull crushing blow. The mangling of their bodies happens after, and only those who see it must suffer. Limbs, digits, and facial features are removed at random. Skin is torn, and often completely stripped from the bodies. The remains are disassembled.

Then, sloppily, they are sewn back together again. Every body part haphazardly returned to its proper place, and fixed there with a needly and thread. The community has come to call the killer ‘The Red Seamster,’ for lack of a better name.

Investigators and adventurers have tried to discover the identity of this killer for a century. Countless monsters have been slain or driven away from the elven lands on suspicion of being responsible. Yet every year a new body is found, and the hunt for the killer begins again. Many have simply given up hope that the killer will ever be found. Others have become convinced that the killer cannot be found. That the dead are taken by a supernatural force which can never be stopped. It doesn’t matter. When summer ends and the air begins to chill, fear is universal within the village. Fear, and prayer.

None fears The Red Seamster more than a local tailor named Erol Gwindlin. He believes he’s had numerous close encounters with the killer. Each year he barely escapes becoming the Red Seamster’s victim, but he knows his luck cannot last. He knows what no one else will believe, even though he’s told them: The Red Seamster lives in Erol’s garden. In a hole in the ground. Each year he digs himself out, and buries himself again. Erol avoids his garden in the fall, for fear that The Red Seamster will emerge while he’s there.

What neither Erol Gwindlin, nor The Red Seamster knows is that the two of them share the same mind. Each year the changing of the leaves awakens the Red Seamster. He is unaware that time has passed since he was last awake. He skulks to Erol’s garden and digs up the heavy flail he keeps there. He shakes the dirt from it, and goes on the prowl. Looking for someone, anyone, to cut open. Looking for someone whose blood can warm his cold hands. Someone he can practice his needlework with.

The Red Seamster is a strange animal who lives in a strange world. He is only ever aware in the darkness of night, with the crimson leaves and the chill air. He doesn’t know anyone, but every day the world around him has changed. When he awakens he is driven by the desire to see what is inside those around them. To pull them apart and put them back together again.

The Red Seamster (CR 9)

XP: 6,400
Male Elven Barbarian 5 / Rogue 5 (Character 10)
CE humanoid
Init +5; Senses Perception +11(+2 for traps), Low Light Vision (When Raging: Darkvision 60ft., Scent)

Defenses

AC 19, Flat Footed 16, Touch 15 [10 + Dex(5) + Armor(3) + Dodge(1)] (Cannot be caught flat footed) (+2 vs. Traps) (Cannot be Flanked)
hp 87 (5d12 + 5d8 + 30)
Fort +7 Ref +10 (+2 v. Traps) Will -3
(Reflex Save: If successfully saved for 1/2 damage, take no damage)

Offense

Speed 45ft
Melee +2 Heavy Flail + 13/8 (1d10 + 5 , 19-20/x2)
Sneak Attack +3d6
Vital Strike As an attack action, roll one additional weapon damage die at the highest BAB.

Stats

Str 16 (+3) Dex 21 (+5) Con 15 (+2) Int 11 (+0) Wis 3 (-4) Cha 10 (+0)
Base Atk +8/3; CMB +11; CMD 26
Feats Dodge, Extra Rage, Fleet, Vital Strike, Toughness
Skills Acrobatics (+17), Craft (Tailoring)(+13), Knowledge (Anatomy)(+10), Perception (+11)(+2 for traps), Sleight of Hand (+17), Stealth (+17)(Can stealth at full speed with no penalty)
Languages Elven, Common
SQ
–Rage: 20 rounds/day; +4 STR, +4 CON, +2 Will Saves, -2 AC, +20 HP
–Rage Powers: Night Vision, Scent
–Rogue Talents: Fast Stealth, Stand up (As a free action)
Gear Studded Leather Armor, +2 Heavy Flail, skinning knife, hacksaw, small hatchet, pliers, scalpel, 8 thick needles, four spools of coarse thread

Lively Locals 9: Peaceful Crossing

Some years ago I was in the southern lands. My expeditions had not been fruitful of late, and I was in sore need of some coin. To tide myself over, I took a job as a bounty hunter. The town I was staying in at the time had been harassed by a group of brigands for several months. They pooled they resources, and offered me a hundred gold coins if I would bring them the heads of all seven bandits. Normally I wouldn’t have taken such a poorly paying job, but my purse was so light by that point that it may as well have been filled with feathers.

I waited until the band attacked once more, then pursued them from a safe distance, with as much subtlety as I could manage. Given their superior numbers, I did not want to face them in an even fight. I hoped to attack them in the night, when they could be caught unawares. Their path led through rocky hills, and into a wasteland of dry, sun-blasted earth. The ground was so flat that it would have been impossible to remain hidden, so I allowed them to pull ahead of me over the horizon, and continued to pursue them by following the tracks their horses left on the ground.

In the late afternoon, I happened to catch a hint of movement at the edge of my vision. I turned to see a pack of large, hungry-looking coyotes stalking me. I had no idea where they’d come from, but it was clear they intended to have my horse and I for a meal. Weary from the long ride and the harsh sun as we were, I knew I didn’t have much of a chance fighting the damned things, so I spurred my horse along and we took off as fast as we could. Which turned out not to be very fast, given our exhaustion. Up ahead of us, though, there was what looked to be a dry riverbed with an old wooden bridge across it. It would be as good a place as any to make a stand, so I made for it with all haste I could coax from my steed.

We made it across the bridge, where I leaped down and drew a dagger and shield. It wasn’t much defense, but at least it would prevent them from completely surrounding me, I thought. I turned and waited for them to pounce on me, but they never did. I could see it in their eyes the moment their forepaws landed on the decrepit wooden planks. Immediately I no longer interested them. They took a few more bounding steps forward, but their focus was lost. They all wandered about for a moment, before moving off together, leaving my horse and I untouched.

I was curious, so I examined the bridge more closely. It was clearly very old, but I was surprised by how sturdy it felt. I tried putting my feet through the boards, and shaking the railings, but nothing budged. Upon closer inspection, much of what I had assumed to be gnarled, worn wood was actually expertly carved with leaves, trees, birds, and other small woodland creatures depicted on the railings and posts. Clearly it had been built when its surroundings were much different. Either that, or whoever built it had a very unusual sense of aesthetic.

I jumped down to the riverbed below, and began digging my hands into the ground to see if I could tell just how long it had been since there was any water under the bridge. The surface was so dry that I had to loosen it with my dagger before I could begin searching at all. I dug perhaps a foot into the ground without encountering anything but dry, dead earth. I was about to give up and move on when I noticed some markings on the bottom of the bridge. They were made with paint, but still clear to see. It was a large circle with half a dozen runes inside of it. I copied it to some parchment I had as best I could, then climbed atop my horse and started to ride back the way I’d come.

Back in town I found a scholar who told me the symbol was an old elven one, meaning “Go in peace,” or “Walking the Path of Nonviolence,” or something else to that effect. It wasn’t until I spoke with her that I realized I had completely forgotten about my pursuit of the bandits after I crossed that bridge.

Hireling Traits

While participating in Brendan‘s weekly OD&D game, Vaults of Pahvelorn, I’ve become enamored of the role hirelings once played in D&D. In Pathfinder, it’s uncommon for a player to seek out an NPC companion. And when they do, they need to take the Leadership feat first. In previous editions of the game, it’s more common for every player to have at least one hireling, while many have several. This makes a lot of sense. From a practical standpoint, one doesn’t need to be a particularly good leader to pay someone to perform basic tasks. All you need is money and a sense of superiority, which adventurers and retail managers both have in spades, AMIRITE?

Despite my respect for the hireling system’s elegance, I’ve noticed a potential weakness in the way they are handled. It’s not a flaw; it doesn’t break the game, nor does it render hirelings less effectual than they ought to be. But it’s an area where I feel as though the presence of hirelings in the game could be strengthened to the game’s benefit. Namely, every hireling is a robot that does what it’s told except when a completely random die roll determines that it should do otherwise. They have no personality to them which makes them individual or interesting, despite the fact that players often try to ascribe personalities to them.

To my understanding, Hirelings in OD&D are handled very simply. (Bearing in mind that I don’t actually know how hirelings are handled in Vaults of Pahvelorn. The machinations of loyalty are kept hidden from the players). When the player character orders a hireling to attempt something which the hireling might object to, the GM rolls against a “loyalty score” which the player has earned with that NPC. On a successful roll, the hireling will do what they are told. On an unsuccessful roll, the hireling will refuse the order. It’s a simple and effective means to differentiate between the PC (which the player controls directly) and the Hireling, which is an NPC that the player can only control indirectly.

In my weeks playing Vaults of Pahvelorn, however, I’ve noticed that my fellow players and I often try to impart personality traits on our hirelings. They’re not quite members of the party, but we still view them as more than cannon fodder. I suppose the closest analogue you might draw is that the players view their hirelings as pets. They want to get to know them a little bit, and the simple nature of the loyalty score doesn’t allow much leeway.

I propose a random chart which defines a hireling’s personality. Not in a role playing or aesthetic sense, as -C has already covered that exhaustively and there’s really nothing more to be said on the matter. Rather, this chart would define personality on a mechanical scale. A character’s fears are going to make them less willing to engage in certain kinds of questionable activities, while they may feel more confident about others. To demonstrate what I’m talking about, below is a sample chart which I’m sure could be expanded and improved upon. Each personality trait is the result of two rolls:

Roll 1d6

(1) The character is terrified of… (Takes a -3 penalty on loyalty rolls associated with…)
(2-3) The character isn’t comfortable with… (Takes a -1 penalty on loyalty rolls associated with…)
(4-5) The character is pretty comfortable with… (Receives a +1 bonus on loyalty rolls associated with…)
(6) The character happy with… (Receives a +3 bonus on loyalty rolls associated with…)

Edit: Brendan has pointed out to me that OD&D loyalty checks are made using 2d6, not 1d20. Oops! I’ve modified the bonuses and penalties to work better with that number range. That’ll teach me to try and write a homebrew for a game I’ve never GM’d!

Roll 1d20

(1) Being left alone in to stand guard in a dangerous place.
(2) Being sent ahead to scout in a dangerous place.
(4) Magic and Magic Users
(5) Religion
(6) Fire
(7) Darkness
(8) Undead
(9) Monstrous Humanoids
(10) Insects
(11) Demons and Devils
(12) Evil
(13) Lawbreaking
(14) Near death experiences
(15) Being asked to participate in battle with a ranged weapon.
(16) Being asked to participate in battle with a melee weapon.
(17) Dangerously cold weather.
(18) Dangerously hot weather.
(19) Large scale battles.
(20) High places

The GM could roll for an individual hireling as many times as they like, ignoring any contradictory results on subsequent rolls. The GM is also strongly encouraged to work a hireling’s trait into their personality. For example, a hireling who is comfortable with fire might have been part of the fire fighting volunteer squad before they joined up with the party. If they’re happy to confront fire, then perhaps they’re even a little unstable, with pyromaniacal tendencies.

There are some potential problems with this idea. Aside from complicating a simple system (and thus, potentially, making it less effective) it adds to the amount of information the GM will need to keep track of. I do like the idea, though, and I’d be curious to hear other’s thoughts on it. I’m particularly curious what oldschool GMs think, since my only experience with OSR gaming is as a player.

Identifying Magic Items in Pathfinder

All the way back in April, I declared that I was fed up with the way magic items are identified in Pathfinder. Furthermore, I said that I was going to fix it. I’ve been lazy, but I’m going to work on not being lazy anymore. So lets get to work. Forgive me if this post is a little more brusk than my writing normally is.

There are two steps to identifying a magical item. The first step is to determine whether the item is magical at all. In some cases this may be obvious, such as in the case of a glowing sword. But not every magical item will be obviously magical. And some items which seem as though they should be magical might not be. A jewel encrusted shield might just be a fragile display piece, good for selling, but not for using. Once it has been determined that an item is magical, the second step is to figure out what the item actually does, and how a character can make the item do that thing. Depending on how the game works, a +1 mace might always be a little more accurate and deal a little more damage, but something less obvious could require some know-how in order to use. Such as an activation word for a wand.

Before I go further, I’d like to review precisely how Pathfinder’s item identification works according to the core rule book. That way we’re clear on where we’re starting from. Relevant parts of the system are described in a number of places. First, from the “Spellcraft” skill description.

“This skill is also used to identify the properties of magic items in your possession through the use of spells such as detect magic and identify.“, “Attempting to ascertain the properties of a magic item takes 3 rounds per item to be identified and you must be able to thoroughly examine the object”, “When using detect magic or Identify to learn the properties of magic items, you can only attempt to ascertain the properties of an individual item once per day. Additional attempts reveal the same result.”, “Identify the properties of a magic item using detect magic: 15 + item’s caster level.”

The spell description for Detect Magiccan be found on page 267 of the PFCRB, but essentially all the spell allows you to do is identify that magic auras are present, and help you determine the school of said aura, and which specific items or persons they are emanating from. The spellcraft skill can then be used as described above (DC 15 + item’s caster level) to determine the item’s specific use and activation word, etc. The spell description for Identify can be found on page 299 of the PFCRB, but it pretty much only says “+10 to spellcraft checks made to identify magic items.”

I don’t like this system because:

I hate it when spells are neutered so that they can fit within the broken skills system. Identify should not be a +10 to your identification ability.
I don’t see the point in having a failure chance for identifying magical items. At least not a completely random failure chance. It could be interesting to construct the rules so that players could miss magical items through poor play.
I’ve recorded game sessions in the past. I like to listen to them and judge what works and what doesn’t as an outside observer. Here’s what the discovery of a magic item sounds like:

ME: You find 100 gold pieces and a sword with a silver blade and a dragon’s head carved into the wooden handle.
Players: Check to see if it’s magical.
Sorcerer/Wizard/Whatever: I roll to see if it’s magical.
[Success]Me: It is a +2 sword.
[Success]Players: Yay! Who needs it?
[Failure]Me: It does not appear to be magical to you.
[Failure]Players: It was a low roll. Lets keep it and try again tomorrow!

This conversation is boring. It is pointless. And it is a waste of everyone’s time.

Here is my proposal for Pathfinder magic item identification. I haven’t playtested this yet, but I’ll implementing it in my game, and hopefully it will be an improvement over the way the system currently works.
Magic Users–Wizards, Sorcerers, Clerics, etc.–can identify whether an item is or is not magical by focusing on it for about five minutes. Characters who cannot cast spells are unable to do this. If the party does not wish to spend the time necessary to determine whether an item is magical, the spell Detect Magic can be used to immediately identify all magical items within the caster’s field of vision. When using this spell, the items will glow a particular color, corresponding to the school of magic which the item is most strongly associated with. Only the caster is able to see these auras, and they do not provide any more information than the fact that the item is magical, and what school it is associated with.
Each magical item in Pathfinder has a “Caster Level.” If the caster level of an item is equal to or lower than the caster level of a magic user, then that magic user may determine the item’s function and method of activation by studying it for 5 minutes. If the players do not wish to spend this amount of time, or if the items in question are too high level to be identified, then the caster may use the Identify spell. This spell must be cast individually for each item which needs to be identified, but works instantaneously. Also, using the Identify spell, a caster may determine the properties of a magic item up to 3 caster levels above their own.
If no magic user is available, or if an item is too high level to be identified by the party’s magic user, then the party may seek out and consult a sage. Sages are very learned, and often have magical powers of their own to call upon. For a fee (200gp * Item’s Caster Level) the Sage will identify it for the party. It will require at least one week’s worth of time. For particularly powerful magic items, or artifacts, the sage may require additional funds and time, or may be entirely unable to identify the item at all. In that case, the sage would likely know of another sage which the party could consult, and offer them at least a partial refund.
What do you think? I’m open to criticism here.

Last Words of the Megalomaniacal Bard

One of these days I’m going to run a campaign. Standard fantasy setting, plenty of dungeon crawling and orcs. Nothing too far out of the ordinary. Eventually I’ll introduce a big bad villain for the players to contend with. He’ll be a Bard, who charms his way into commanding the big evil army or whatever. That part isn’t very important.

The players will face many challenges and battles in hunting down this evil bard. But dice willing, they will eventually penetrate to the very heart of his citadel. They’ll battle him in his throne room, and he’ll have a lot of tricks up his sleeve. But they made it this far, and they’re prepared.

After a terrific battle, the players will have the villain at their mercy. He’ll lean back against his throne, and know he is defeated. He will no plead for his life, but he asks the players if they would permit him some final words. My players, I hope, would agree to this simple request.

The villain would then reach behind his throne, and pull out a large, strange looking lute-like instrument.

As my players looked at me, puzzled, I would hit play on Behind Blue Eyes by The Who.

I fully expect at least one of my players to punch me in the head. It will be worth it, because it will be god damned hilarious.

Posts with substance will resume tomorrow. Sorry for the spotty scheduling lately!

Pathfinder Diseases: Commonplace Conditions

My post yesterday covered fantastical, magical diseases and how I think they ought to be implemented in Pathfinder. Today I want to continue along that same thread, but switch to real world diseases. The kind of stuff which killed our ancestors, and which adventurers in a medieval European themed fantasy setting are more likely to encounter.

To start, I want to make clear what I think diseases in a tabletop game should not be. They should not be a completely random affect. Players should not be constantly at risk to contract them, as they are in AD&D 1st ed. Diseases should never serve as a way for the GM to say “screw you!” to the players. Nor should players who contract a disease ever feel as though they could not have known what they were risking when they exposed themselves to it.

In my mind, diseases are traps. Traps which might be encountered in a dungeon, but can also be encountered during wilderness exploration. I don’t mean traps in a literal sense–obviously diseases aren’t triggered by pressure plates or trip wires. I view diseases as traps because they ought to be designed using the same methodology. When the players are in danger of contracting a disease, they must be able to recognize and avoid that disease through intelligent play, the same way they would avoid a trap. (Disable Device check not included).

For example, lets use the example of a fire trap. The players open the door, and the GM describes the room by saying that there’s an iron table and chairs in the center of the room, both of them slightly warped. The stone floor and parts of the wall are covered in dark smears. Players now have enough information that they should know something is off about the room. They’re careful about entering, and in so doing, they discover that there are a few pressure plates within the room which activate a number of wall-mounted flame jets.

It’s the same when the players encounter the malaria trap. As they travel through the world, the GM tells them that shortly after noon, the forest they’ve been traveling through changes. Up ahead, it turns into a swamp filled with buzzing clouds of mosquitoes. Since the players know they’re playing in a game with disease, they have enough information to deduce that the swamp up ahead will be dangerous to travel through. They might choose to risk it, or go around it, or prepare some manner of mundane or magical protection for it. Regardless of what they choose to do, the world has become more dangerous, and more interesting, and requires them to make more informed decisions. And that’s good.

The question now becomes: Which diseases ought to show up in D&D? They need to be well known enough that players instantly know what kind of danger they’re facing when they contract it, and they should have methods of transmission which are distinct enough that they can be identified as dangerous situations by intelligent players. So I came up with a list of diseases which sprang to my mind, asked around for any I missed, then read the wiki entry for each of them, crossing off any which didn’t sufficiently meet my criteria listed above. I came up with a tentative list of 8 diseases which could be used in your game world.

I don’t imagine it’s necessary, but I would like to say before I begin: I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m not a doctor, nor am I a biologist, nor even someone who got pretty good grades in a science class once. What I’ve written below is obviously simplified, and probably contains a factual error or two.

I’m not going to fully detail each of these with game rules, but I imagine all of them could be cured with Remove Disease if it is available. Any permanent effects from the disease would remain irreversible.

Malaria

How you get it: Being bitten by a disease-carrying mosquito.
What it does: Begins with flu like symptoms, followed by severe chills, fever, convulsions, and potentially a coma.

As mentioned above, swamps filled with mosquito are the perfect place for a malaria trap. I particularly like this one because it has an obvious sign of being present–clouds of insects–and there are a few interesting ways to avoid getting the disease yourself. Like a beekeeping suit, for example.

I’m not sure how the symptoms of malaria could be converted into game terms. Some penalties, with perhaps a permanent loss to constitution score? My understanding is that malaria is a disease which remains with you throughout your life, but aside from occasional flare-ups, a disease victim is able to have a relatively normal existence.

Rabies

How you get it: Being bitten by a disease-carrying animal. Most commonly a dog.
What it does: Hydrophobia, followed by mania, coma, and death.

This is one of the few examples where I think the idea of monsters carrying disease is a good one, since it’s actually how the disease is spread. In the real world, it seems as though dogs are by far the primary carriers of rabies, but in a fantasy world any number of creatures could be. A dire wold or giant rat with foam dribbling from their mouth is obviously something that players would want to be wary of.

Once a player has the disease, they can’t willingly enter water for any reason. After 1d6 days, the GM may randomly take control of them for a few moments as the mania begins to take hold. 2d6 days after that, the character dies if they have not had cure disease cast on them.

Leprosy

How you get it: Coming in contact with the breath of a diseased person.
What it does: Skin lesions, numbness, can lead to permanent skin, nerve, limb, and eye damage.

It’s worthy to note that, contrary to popular belief, Leprosy is neither highly contagious, nor does it make your limbs fall off. Since this is a fantasy world, you may wish to use a more fantastic version of the disease.

Since this disease is widely feared, but not actually very harmful or dangerous at all (compared to its hype), I think it makes the most sense for it to deal Charisma damage to the player. Since joints are affected, I think Dexterity damage is called for as well. A month after contracting the disease, the player permanently loses 1 charisma and 1 dexterity both, and the skin lesions begin to appear on their body. If the players allow either their Charisma or their Dexterity to drop as far as 3, then the disease will attack their eyes, making them blind.

Leprosy will never bring a player’s stats below 3.

The Black Plague

How you get it: Bitten by disease carrying fleas, which normally live on rats.
What it does: Large growths appear under the arms or near the groin, which ooze black puss. Within 2-7 days, the victim experiences a lot of blood vomiting, followed by death.

The best thing a player can do to avoid the black plague is avoid anyone infected with it like the plague. Because it’s the god damned plague.

If you’ve never made the time to read up on why exactly the black plague is still so present in human consciousness, here’s the cliffnotes. It killed between 75 million, and 100 million people in the 1400s. Considering that the total world population was estimated to be around 450 million, that means as much as 22% of the human race was killed by this disease. In Europe alone, between 30 and 60% of the population died. And they didn’t just die. They died in horrible pain, vomiting blood, and dying, all in a span of a week. And on top of all of that, the major outbreak during the 1400s wasn’t even the last one. There were further outbreaks of the disease for over 100 years afterword.

To put it another way, the Black Plague came close to wiping out humanity forever.

If your players hear about an area of plague, they damned well better stay clear of it.

Smallpox

How you get it: Smallpox is airborne if you are within 6ft of an infected person.
What it does: Distinctive full-body rash, weakness, nausea, vomiting, 30% fatality rate.

Smallpox is a lot like The Black Plague. It actually killed more people overall, but to my knowledge Smallpox did its killing over a larger period of time, and never took out such a sizable percentage of humanity all at once. In its own right, it is a horrifying and painful disease, and one which the players will want to avoid if they ever hear about an outbreak of it.

At least they’ve got a 70% survival rate if they do catch it, even if they’ll be laid up for a few weeks.

Syphilis

How you get it: Having the sex with an infected individual.
What it does: Painless lesions, rashes, a breakdown of mental abilities.

I’ve heard a lot of jokes about D&D players who engage in sex within the game, and I’ve even heard a lot of stories about it. I’ve never actually encountered a player or GM who was interested in exploring this aspect of the game. So for me, I doubt Siphilis would ever come up. Which is too bad, because it has some of the more interesting effects. I imagine there could be permanent wisdom loss, or perhaps loss of both wisdom and intelligence. Also, unlike most of the diseases on this list, a person with syphilis can continue to live a pretty normal life.

The existence of syphilis within a game world could serve as a useful tool for a GM who wants to reign in sex within their campaign.

Dysentery

How you get it: Consuming contaminated food or water.
What it does: Severe dehydration as a result of constant mucus/blood diarrhea. The dehydration can cause death.

Players should know not to eat stagnant water or spoiled food, and dysentery serves to give them an in-game reason to remember that. A player with Dysentery might need to consume a week’s worth of water rations in a day just to remain hydrated. And for the duration of the disease (which, to my understanding, seems to be about 1-2 weeks, depending on medication) the character would be almost completely incapacitated by abdominal pain and…well…pooping.

Tuberculosis, a.k.a. Consumption

How you get it: Contact with a coughing and sneezing person who has it.
What it does: Loss of appetite, fever, chills, fatigue, a bloody cough, death.

Like a number of the diseases above, T.B. is something the player contracts when they come in contact with a person who already has it. The bloody cough is the telltale sign of consumption. Players will want to distance themselves from anyone who has it. If they do contract it, they could probably continue adventuring for a short while, but with heavy penalties. Maybe just long enough to reach a cleric.

Pathfinder Diseases: Magical Maladies

The section on diseases is one of the worst things I’ve encountered in the original Dungeon Master’s Guide so far. It has a page and a half worth of space in the book, but as best I can tell it’s nothing but a fun-leech. Something that Arneson came up with, and Gygax added complications to.* I’m honestly not sure why either of them thought rolling each month to determine if players caught a life-threatening disease would be fun. It strikes me as the kind of mechanic added because the designer places too high a value on creating ‘realistic’ games. Yet both Gygax and Arneson demonstrated elsewhere that they understood the dangers of excessive realism. Gygax even writes in the opening of the DMG:

“As a realistic simulation of things from the realm of make-believe, or even as a reflection of medieval or ancient warfare or culture or society, it [D&D] can be deemed only a dismal failure.”

So I’m really not sure why they chose to go this route. But suffice to say, I think it’s bad.

But the idea of diseases itself is not inherently flawed. Only AD&D’s application of it. And I don’t think I’m alone in that, as I’ve never seen anything even remotely resembling that disease rule in any other edition of D&D, or any retro-clone, that I’ve read. Diseases are still present somewhat, but they’re treated much more like poisons than anything else. The bite of a diseased animal or being cursed is the most common way to get a disease in Pathfinder. And while I don’t think that’s inherently bad, I think we could do better.

But before I move on to discussing my thoughts on how to fix the mechanics of how diseases are contracted, I’d like to bring up a second problem: how diseases are identified. The diseases in Pathfinder include such maladies as “Blinding Sickness,” “Cackle Fever,” “Devil Chills,” and Slimy Doom.” As fun and pulpy as these disease names are, I agree with Delta: diseases work better when they’re rooted in the real world. I get what they were going for (I’ve done it too), but goofy fantasy names like these never sound as good as they do in our heads. I do appreciate that Pathfinder includes more grounded diseases like Bubonic Plague and Leprosy, but I wish they’d stuck to Mummy Rot and Lycanthropy by way of fantasy diseases.

That doesn’t mean that I’m completely opposed to fantasy diseases. I just think they need to be integrated better. A fantastic disease should have a fantastic cause. It should also be more distinct and memorable than 1d4 strength damage once per day until 3 consecutive fortitude saves are made. The two I mentioned above are perfect examples of what I would deem to be good fantastical diseases. Mummy Rot is one of the most dreadful attacks possessed by a low level undead creature, with the potential to completely turn the target to dust. While Lycanthropy is so uniquely fantastical that I don’t even need to justify it. You already know why it’s awesome. For today I’m going to focus on fantastical diseases like these, while tomorrow’s post will cover more commonplace conditions.

Magic users of various stripes control energies well beyond the understanding of normal mortals. Normally these casters are well prepared to handle the energies they summon. However, if for some reason they fail to bring their spell to completion, the magical energies can be released into their body, and left to contaminate them in one way or another, often making them ill.

If for any reason a spellcaster fails to cast a spell after they’ve begun casting it, they are at risk of contracting a magical disease. The GM should roll 1d20 on the chart below. If the result is equal to or less than the level of the spell being cast, then the magic user contracts the indicated malady. If the number rolled is higher than the level of the spell which was being cast, then nothing happens (even if that number would otherwise correspond to a disease).

For example, if a sorcerer attempts to cast a 5th level spell, but is attacked and fails their concentration check, then they are at risk of becoming ill. If the GM rolls a 2, then the caster contracts “Mystic Frailty,” because 2 < 5. On the other hand, if a 6 is rolled, the caster will not contract “Energy Leak,” because 6 > 5. Unless otherwise stated, all diseases last a number of days equal to 1d4 times the level of the spell which was failed.

1 – Glitter Sniffle
2- Mystic Frailty
3- Unsteady Casting
4- School Lock
5- Reachlost
6- Energy Leak
7- Spelldraw
8- Commoner’s Disease
9- Soul Breach

Glitter Sniffle – While most magical diseases are a severe inconvenience, Glitter Sniffle is more of a nuisance. For the duration of the illness, the caster sneezes at least once every 15 minutes. When they sneeze, a glittering, glowing light effect erupts from their nose, momentarily causing a harmless flash of light. Bits of mucus continue to glow for an hour after the fact, which can leave an obvious trail if the care is not taken.

Mystic Frailty – All spells have their effects reduced by half (number of die, number of creatures, duration. Whichever is relevant). Aside from feelings of general mental weakness, the casters spells are much less impaction than they ought to be. Though the caster may put twice as much effort into their attempt to cast fireball, the flames they produce will be significantly less intense than normal.

Unsteady Casting – Magical incantations which normally seem quite simple are more difficult to understand and express. Gestures and magical words are slightly off, causing the spell’s effects to be weakened. The saving throw for all of the caster’s spells are reduced by half. Any spell which normally does not have a saving throw, gains one.

School Lock – Whichever school of spells the cater was attempting to cast from when they failed is the only school which they can cast from at all for the duration of the disease. The magical energies specific to that school have permeated the caster’s body, causing spells of any other school to become mangled, and fail. This effect counts even if the failed spell was from the universal school, or the caster’s prohibited school.

Reachlost – The ability to designate a target for a spell is a complicated one which casters must practice hard in order to perfect. The Reachlost disease completely blocks the caster’s access to the mental muscle they need in order to accomplish that feat. For the duration of this illness, spells can only be delivered as touch spells. Magical items which increase a spells range, or metamagic feats which do so, will not function.

Energy Leak – The magical energies that the caster normally holds within their bodies leak out constantly. Anytime they attempt to cast a spell, they must make a concentration check, DC 10 + [Spell Level]. If they fail, then the spell was lost, and they cannot attempt to cast it. Additionally, the leaking magic attracts many types of magical bests which can sense it. Denizens of the lower planes are particularly sensitive to this trail, often sensing it from miles away.

Spelldraw – The shifting, roiling mass of magical energy within the caster is so powerful that it draws other magic towards it. If any spell’s target is within a number of feet of the diseased caster equal to 10 * the failed spell’s level, then the caster of that spell must succeed on a concentration check (DC 10 + [Spell Level]) or that spell’s target will become the diseased caster. The diseased caster also receives no saving throws against spells while afflicted with Spelldraw.

Commoner’s Disease – Magical energies become completely inaccessible to the caster for the duration of this disease. They are unable to cast any spells whatsoever, but can still use scrolls and magical items.

Soul Breach – This is bad. The magical energies you let course through your body have somehow entwined with your soul, corrupting it. This effect does not end until it is cured, and curing it may be difficult. Each time you cast a spell while you have this disease, make a will saving throw, DC 10 + [Spell Level]. Upon failure, this corruption spreads, and the caster gains 1 negative level.

If the disease cannot be cured, the caster faces a difficult decision about what they value more: casting spells, or being alive?

*My understanding is that the disease rules found in the DMG first appeared in a simpler form in the “Blackmoor” supplement, written by Arneson.

The Girl and the Granite Throne: Chapter Four

Erin and Byert on the road to Heathrop, by cbMorrie

This probably requires some explanation.

If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time, you’ve probably seen the link at the top which reads ‘The Girl and the Granite Throne.’ In all likelihood, most of my readership hasn’t made a point of exploring that link or that story. Or, at least, I assume so because I probably wouldn’t have if I were them.

The Girl and the Granite Throne is a work of fiction which I started writing a little over a year ago. It follows the story of a young woman named Erin in my Regalia campaign setting. She was a pivotal NPC in that game world. Over the years we played in that world, both my players and I came to care for her a great deal. By a wide margin, Erin is the most memorable NPC I’ve ever created. I often found her much more interesting than anything else I was doing in that world. I’ve literally got a binder filled with notes about her and those who followed her.

One of the first things I did when this site began was start writing episodic fiction about Erin’s life. I had a very rough outline in mind, and a lot of notes from my Ascendant Crusade campaign. For the most part, though, I simply wrote each chapter as ideas came to me. By this time last year, I had four chapters posted, and two more outlined in great detail. That’s when I decided to start taking this blog more seriously, and began updating it five times a week instead of “whenever I felt like it.”

The increased writing schedule was really good for me in a lot of ways, and I’ve accomplished a lot since I started doing it. Unfortunately, the number of posts I started requiring of myself meant that I had difficulty finding time to write the much longer, and more difficult, Girl and the Granite Throne posts. So for nearly a year, that story has sat unfinished. Perhaps the single most consistent request I receive from my readers is that I finish the story–which is odd, because upon re-reading it, there are some very serious flaws with my pacing.

When I passed the 1 year hurdle, I made two resolutions: first, I wanted to start taking on more ambitious projects than simply putting up four ramblings a week. There’s a limit to the value of that kind of post, and if I want to continue to grow and improve, I need to move beyond them. Second, I wanted to learn to write faster. Regarding the latter goal, I’m actually doing remarkably well. I think I’ve dropped the actual time I spend typing up posts to about 25% of what it was previously. Regarding the former goal…well, the post is entitled “The Girl and the Granite Throne: Part Four,” so you take a guess.

If you haven’t yet–or if it has simply been a very long whilte–I recommend you read the story so far before continuing below:

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

The Girl and the Granite Throne Chapter 4

“You cannot be serious. Never?” Erin asked in disbelief. Byert, following a few paces behind, kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

“Not as such, miss. No.”

“Well hells, you ought to. It’s fantastic, and it’s not as though you’d have any trouble finding someone willing!”

“Please, miss Erin-“

“Just ‘Erin,’ will do, Warblade.”the young wizard corrected.

“Please, Erin, this is not an appropriate subject.”

“Oh?” Erin turned to face her guardian, continuing to walk backwards along the forest trail “Are young Illumians forbidden? Or just young Warblades?”

“No, it’s just, you see that…it’s not proper.”

“Pft, fine,” she said, turning away from him again and continuing on her way. Erin’s familiar mirrored his mistress’ disappointment by hopping from one of her traveling robe’s many pockets and on to her shoulder, croaking loudly at the warblade. “You’re quite right, Loatie!” Erin replied, as though she could understand the toad’s speech.”So, what do you do for fun then, spoilsport?” The air between them was silent for a moment, and Erin thought perhaps she’d taunted the boy a little too much.

“I read.” he finally responded, quietly. She laughed.

“Gods, you’re as much fun as a wizard. What use does a soldier have for dusty tomes?” Silence was her only reply, so she continued. “Well, tell me then, Warblade, what do you read?”

“History.” he replied, simply. Erin pressed for more information.

“Who discovered what, and when such-and-so treaty was signed? Riveting.”

“No,” he began, his voice finally beginning to take on a bit of heat “I like to read about great generals, and tactics, and battles that were fought. That sort of thing.”

“That’s a little more exciting, I suppose.”

Byert continued, his voice sounding more engaged than before. “Just last night I was reading about the campaigns leading up to the fall of Oriac. Not many records from that time period still exist, but a man named Jorus Balt came up with a good estimate about how the war progressed from the documents that survived from that era.” Erin murmured her approval, and allowed Byert to continue his story. It was good to hear him talking passionately about something. And the subject was interesting enough that it would help the time pass more quickly.

The two made small talk for the next several hours. Erin allowed Byert to dominate the conversation with tales of ancient battles, and found she quite enjoyed them. The boy was a talented storyteller. It wasn’t until noon that they finally reached the main road through the forest, and another several hours before they crested the hill outside of Heathrop.

“Warblade-” Erin began, interrupting her companion’s tale of General Kaygan’s charge.

“Byert.” the Illumian corrected, sounding more confident than he had a few hours prior.

“Right, Byert. I know it’s not exactly comfortable, but subdue your runes. Immar is familiar enough here that they will mark you as one of his kin. We need to be inconspicuous.” The young man’s face screwed up in annoyance. All the same, he closed his eyes and began to strain. The glowing letters which encircled his head slowly faded, then were gone. If he were anything like Immar, Erin knew, suppressing this natural trait of his species would give him a dreadful headache, but there wasn’t much choice right now.

While he did that, Erin pulled out a tangle of gaudy baubles and cord, and began wrapping them around the three blades of her Duom spear.

“What are you doing that for?” Byert asked.

“Weapons aren’t strictly prohibited in town, but a girl with an exotic Illumian war spear is likely to attract a little more attention than a girl with a fancy walking stick.” Byert was silent for a moment after she spoke, watching her adorn her weapon before getting up his courage to ask,

“What about your face?” Erin stopped what she was doing and glared at him. An expression only enhanced by her missing eye.

“What?” she asked, sharply.

“I mean…what I meant, um…won’t anybody recognize you?” Erin continued to glare, letting him dangle for his remark before turning back to her work.

“No,” she answered, “I’ve never been to town.”

“How is that possible? You’ve been my uncle’s apprentice for years, have you not?” Erin paused before answering, keeping her hands and her eye on her work.

“I have no fondness for uneducated peasants. Let’s leave it at that.”

Byert did not press her further. The two completed their preparations, and continued along the road and down into town. Heatherop was a small town of perhaps 1200 inhabitants, with many more trappers and merchants than that passing through daily. It had no walls, but an active town guard which–in honesty–was probably much more competent than Immar gave them credit for. Erin kept an eye open for anyone who looked as though they may be a paladin, but all she saw were the common goings-on of a trading town on the edge of civilization. Byert spoke, cutting into her thoughts.

“It’s nice here, actually. The buildings aren’t too close together, the air smells of cooking meats. And look at those children playing over there!” Erin rolled her eyes and tried to ignore his naivete. She knew that beneath the town’s idyllic image was a corrupt government supported by an easily swayed populace. They were sheep, and she was here to herald a shepherd.

Byert continued pointing out Heathrop’s supposed beauty. Much as she enjoyed the boy’s company, after several hours of his enthusiasm, she needed some space to clear her thoughts and scout the town in peace.

“Byert, we need to eat something before we meet with the faithful,” she said. “Go and get enough for the both of us, then meet me across the street from the Cobbler’s shop near the center of town.”

“Understood,” the warblade responded curtly, before eagerly jogging over to a nearby street chef. Apparently suppressing his runes wasn’t bothering him too much.

Alone, Erin walked casually through the town. She made a show of examining the wares of several merchants, handling furs and glass baubles as she scanned the streets around her. All together she counted six different guards currently on patrol. Doubtless there were more on duty elsewhere, and still more who could be called to action if the need arose. They were outfitted in leather armor, and each had a sword and club. Their ages ranged from young to middle aged. She didn’t see anyone young enough, or old enough, to look like easy prey. But neither did any of them seem battle-hardened enough to be a paladin. She had hoped she mights spy one of them and take their measure, but she saw none.

After an hour of scouting, Erin began to feel hungry, and was about to go find Byert when she happened upon two of the most lovely boys she’d ever seen. They were blonde, and lean; likely brothers. Both looked to be a bit older than her, perhaps sixteen and eighteen. They were kicking a ball between the two of them in a small field at the edge of town. She sauntered towards them, hoping she looked casually alluring rather than just flustered. She leaned her back against the wall of a nearby building and watched them move. Making contact with the faithful could wait a few minutes longer.

At first the two boys didn’t notice her. But when a stray kick sent the ball flying in her direction, they turned to follow it, and stopped short when they saw her. Erin flirtily curled her red hair around her finger as they exchanged some excited words she couldn’t hear. Without looking, she made sure Loatie was safely hidden away in one of her robe’s deeper pockets. He’d ruined her chances with more than one pretty boy in the past, and she wouldn’t have any more of that today.

She straightened as they trotted over, and when they came within easy hearing distance, she called “Hey there. You looked pretty good out there with the ball.” They didn’t answer at first, grinning as they continued to run towards her. They came to a stop about five feet away from her, and the younger one turned to the elder, speaking as if Erin couldn’t hear him.

“Gods, you were right, Raf! Look at that face!”

“An old boyfriend cut you up, sweetheart?” the older boy mocked. “Poor slut couldn’t keep her eyes to herself, so she lost one!”

Erin immediately turned and began to walk away briskly. It wasn’t the first time her scars had served as a snake detector. Normally she would have responded with more violence. But she needed to keep a low profile, and that meant letting the bastards walk away without severe burns. Of course, the downside of avoiding violence was that they could follow her.

“What’s wrong, red? We hit a sore spot?” the older boy crooned, jogging to keep up with her.

“I think a fisherman must have mistaken her for a whale and harpooned her right in the face!”

“No need to run, we get it! Ugly girls need to get laid too!”

Erin gritted her teeth and struggled against the urge to send bolts of energy through the boorish peasants’ legs. She began walking more briskly, aiming for crowds and taking unexpected turns, moving generally away from the cobbler’s shop where she needed to meet Byert. A few tears began to form in the corner of her good eye, but she clamped down on them as hard as she could. It shouldn’t matter. They were children, she was a master of the arcane. Their words could not hurt her–and her words could certainly hurt them.

Besides, in a few days, no one in this town would ever dare speak to her like that again.

—

Byert looked anxious when Erin finally reunited with him twenty minutes later.

“I thought you were going to come right here?” he asked, sounding put upon, as he handed her some kind of sugary bread wrapped around shredded meat and local fruits. It was soggy by now, but Erin didn’t care. She devoured fully half of it before answering.

“I wanted to surveil the town. It took a little longer than I expected.”

“I should have accompanied you for that! What if you were attacked?”

Erin answered through a mouthful of food, “Unlikely. The fighting hasn’t started yet.” she swallowed, “Besides, it’s easier for one person to be subtle than two.”

“My job is to protect you. Not wait around with your lunch like a fool.” Byert sounded as though he felt hurt more than angry. But he did make a good point.

“You’re right” Erin said, as she chewed the last mouthful of food, dropping a slice of fruit into her pocket for Loatie. “But it’s getting late. Shops in town close after dark, so if we want to avoid looking suspicious we better go inside now.”

The two crossed the dirt road and Byert began pulling open the door before Erin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“One thing before we go inside.”

“Yes?”

“Our conversation has been casual to this point. You are my master’s nephew, and I know I can trust you. But from here, you must address me with respect, and obey me without comment. Do you understand?” It would be hard enough for her to command men and women twice her age. The last thing she needed is for them to think she couldn’t even command a boy a year her junior. Byert appeared a little unhappy with the command, but nodded.

“I understand.” She wasn’t sure that was true, but she didn’t need him to understand. She gestured for him to open the door, and he did, causing a small bell to ring. Erin stepped inside, doing her best to appear authoritative. She could not show weakness. Behind the counter was a middle aged man, already standing up from his work bench and walking over to speak wither her.

“What can I help you with, young lady?” Erin was quiet until she heard Byert close the door behind them.

“Can you make a shoe for a man with one foot?” she asked. His brow furrowed and he glanced around nervously before answering.

“I think you’re looking for the glover. Her shop is down the street.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Erin replied, with a nod. The cobbler nodded back, and turned his head to call out,

“Nora. Come look after the counter for awhile!”

A woman appeared from elsewhere in the small shop, and the cobbler gestured Erin and Byert to come behind the counter. Silently, he led them into a back room where he closed the door, and shuttered the window. He moved to a shelf filled with tools, and began to push it aside. The shelf was heavy, and the man clearly struggled to move it. Byert moved to help, but Erin placed a hand on his chest. If she was to appear aloof and in control, so must her companion. Byert looked annoyed, but did not press the issue. They waited as the man gradually revealed a hidden stairway in the wall. To his credit, he didn’t ask for any assistance. Erin appreciated that respect.

The cobbler gestured for them to proceed him, and they did, descending the small staircase into the dirt tunnel bellow, then waiting as he pulled the shelf back into place, just as slowly as before. While his back was turned, Erin nudged Byert, and waved her finger around her head. He understood, ending his suppression of his runes with a barely audible sigh. The dim light didn’t provide much more illumination than a couple candles would, but she didn’t see a torch in their guide’s hand. Perhaps he had intended to test them with an unnerving walk through the dark.

When the shelf was back in place, the cobbler squeezed past them, and began leading them through the narrow tunnel. It was simple construction, probably the best that the handful of faithful in this wretched town could accomplish. It was little more than a corridor of dirt, with lumber used as support every few feet. Erin estimated they walked perhaps 100 yards, towards the north western edge of the town. Then the walls opened up into a small room, and the cobbler pulled some flint from his pocket to light a torch mounted on a free standing post. He then used it to light several more throughout the room. Erin watched it all in silence. Like the tunnels, the room was small, and supported by wooden planks with a ceiling that rose to about 7ft in the center. Aside from the torches scattered throughout the room, the only ornamentation was a small stone altar in the center, with a tome and a dagger resting upon it. Both bore the crest of the hand and eye.

Erin moved to the altar and rested her hands on the cool stone, hoping that occupying a position of power within the room would give her commands a little more weight. She rested there for a moment, Byert moving to stand behind her, and waited for the cobbler to finish lighting the torches. Once he had, he turned to look at her and asked

“Who are you?”

“My name is Erin Wallcraft. I’ve been sent here by Immar Twistfinger, whom you know to be The Bite of Vecna, as his voice. I am to take command of the faithful here, to carry out our Lord’s will. You will assemble them tonight.” Erin spoke a little more quickly than she wanted to, letting the words she’d practiced pour out of her in a single excited breath. Not a great first impression. The cobbler sneered a bit.

“Do you mean to tell me that The Bite sent a disfigured child to lead us?” he spat out disdainfully. Erin straightened, and tried to inject a little venom into her voice to hide the tremor she knew it would have.

“The Bite sent a maimed wizard to lead the faithful of the Maimed Lord.” she declared, keeping her eye locked with the older man’s gaze.”Now assemble my congregation.”