The Crypt of St. Cumarin: Kurt gets everyone killed - Delve #4 (Play Report)

This is a play report for a megadungeon run by my friend bue. I have been told that it contains material from Dyson's Delve. FMC Basic is our framework of choice.

Remember when I told you how Kurt became a legendary warrior? Well, maybe there was a bit of wishful thinking involved with that. I don't even know if he is still alive.

almost 3 rooms and a tpk. what a beautiful game.

After last week's reasonable haul, the party returned. Korbinian was in need of more coin to continue his research, and Kurt was eager to put his shiny plate armor to the test. The party consisted of Kurt Krieger, Korbinian the Wise, Bill Batmann (friend of K&K), Schwerthelm (sword for hire), and Margarethe the Pearl (expert for hire).

We did the usual. We climbed the hill and entered the caves. There was a little hiccup with a fire beetle, but it turned out not to care for us. So we returned to the cavern of the Widerling and searched its lair, where we discovered nothing but bones and rotten flesh.  

At least we found a way deeper into the dungeon. The spiral staircase descended into a cavern filled with loose rocks. As we tried to make our way across it, rocks started falling. Fortunately, all were able to cross without being bludgeoned to death. 

But then we heard the noise. A buzzing sound approached from the north. The insect was as thick as an arm with a hairy carapace and four wings. And then there was its stinger, which was reminiscent of a scorpion's weapon of choice. It tried to pierce Kurt's armor but only damaged his shield. Kurt stuck his dagger into the vermin's carapace and slammed it onto its back. Margarethe and Bill Batmann finished it off while Korbinian and Schwerthelm nodded with approval.

The beast slain, we crawled forth and came upon a cave filled with corpses. As we poked them, they came alive. Korbinian only shouted, “Kill them with fire!” And so we did. Bill Batmann threw a flask of oil, and Margarethe lit it with her torch.

The reasonable choice would be to return another time when the fire has burnt down, we reasoned. But there was the cavern of falling rocks. What about that? Kurt, known for his cleverness, had noticed that the falling of rocks must be caused by noise, so he shouted as loud as he could, hoping to once and for all clear the path.

The path was not cleared; the cave-in blocked it. Schwerthelm panicked, and the party was scattered. Margarethe was killed in the darkness of the dungeon. Kurt and Schwerthelm dropped unconscious somewhere. Korbinian somehow found a group of batfolk who helped him find his way out. Bill Batmann? He reappeared on the surface, badly hurt but carrying a wondrous magical gambeson.

Will Kurt and Schwerthelm be saved? Will the party find a way back to level 3?

Tune in next week! 

The Crypt of St. Cumarin: Finally rich? - Delve #3 (Play Report)

This is a play report for a megadungeon run by my friend bue. I have been told that it contains material from Dyson's Delve. FMC Basic is our framework of choice.

 

 

This one was a quick and easy go-in-and-grab-shit affair.

We, that is, Korbinian, Schwerthelm, Bill Batmann, and Kurt, returned to the Crypt of St. Cumarin.

The skies shed tears of joy during our ascent, for they knew our fate. 

Soaked to the skin, we entered the caves that were once the home of our newest comrade.

Down the spiral stairs we went; at the bottom the sweet stench of death greeted us. 

Large rat carcasses marked with ambiguous bite marks were the source. 

They did not hold any coins. 

We left them be; they were doomed to meet the ferryman penniless. 

A fork in the subterranean path presented itself.

Sounds of rodent conversation echoed from the south and north we went.

The cave grew tall, and the ceiling was lost in darkness.

"Curious!" Kurt exclaimed. 

Korbinian had already spotted two tomes.

"De Re Coquinaria! Volume I and II!" he read aloud.

He did not finish his thought, or he would have explained to Kurt that this was the realm's oldest cookbooks.

A humanoid with eyes, teeth, and claws as yellow as dandelions dropped from the darkness. 

The feral Widerling was clad in robes and glittering jewellery.

Korbinian contemplated diplomacy, but the cave dweller chose violence, the true universal language. 

With luck and determination, the fiend was felled.

Its inheritance was left for us.

But before we had a chance to pack our bags, a wave of squeaking beasts stormed into the cavern.

Only when we realized that they were merely passing through did we breathe again.

We returned to town with two culinary tomes (each seven hundred silver shillings), two gold rings (each two hundred silver shillings), a lapis lazuli talisman (eight hundred shillings), and a ceremonial key on a gold chain (one thousand and two hundred silver shillings).

A total of three thousand and eight hundred silver shillings we earned that day.

Korbinian spent his share to research a fear curse.

Bill Batmann sought out a trainer to learn the trade of a true soldier.

Kurt bought a plate armor and spent his time recruiting.

Thus Margarethe the Pearl, an expert climber and sailor, joined the band.

The Second Coming of Chi-Sooze: SUPER ADVENTURE 3 PART I - Bottomless (Play Report)

This is a play report for oldhawkeye's SUPER ADVENTURE III PART I - Bottomless. I played a 5th edition D&D 7th level Celestial Warlock called Luzius Fax. Luzius originally was from a Curse of Strahd campaign ran by bue back in the dark days. In retrospect he was one of the most insufferable pieces of OC I ever created. But he was a fun pick for a Delta Green Scenario flailsnails type situation.

 

The following is an excerpt from Luzius golden prayer book:

 

Oh, Father, Lord of Birth and Renewal, hallowed be Thy light.

 

Oh, Bringer of Eternal Dawn, you sent me to the realm of Earth to face my biggest challenge.

 

I have vanquished the wicked, and light has prevailed.

 

I came to the frozen land of Kolor Ado, where the mad lords of the kingdom of Oohessay had made a pact with the fiends of the far realms; they were selling their people to the followers of Orcus.

 

I joined forces with an old cleric of Kelemvor, The Great Guide, Lord of the Crystal Spire, Judge of the Damned. His name was Brother Shimur.

Shimur captured one of the abyssal agents and questioned them while I went to tend to the poor and sick of Kolor Ado.

For there were many ill and ailing in this land ruled by greed and avarice.

 

Meanwhile, Lux Lumina, my celestial companion, snuck into the keep of the corrupted.

She returned with news of victims being enthralled by demonic sorcery.

May the rose-gold flame of the radiant Lord bring light to this dark realm.

 

My deeds did not go unnoticed by the people of Oohessay.

They sent messages through their network of ley lines speaking of the return of an Illmater avatar called Chi-Sooze.

Their minds were clouded by the lies of Cyric, for they did not realize that it was the Patron of Eternal Youth that had sent his son to protect them.

 

It dawned on me that I had to show them the clear way of beauty’s reign myself.

Only sacred fire would bring the new morning of rejuvenation to these people.

 

And so, a band of heroes joined up with the Kelemvorite and the Lathanderite:

Sahajim, a Triton warrior from the Elemental Plane of Water, took on the role of captain.

Lantry, a master in the Tel’Quessir art of Elven bladesinging.

Leo Highwind, a mighty hero of giant strength, presumably from the city of Calimport.

10-K, a liberated undead slave from the lands of Thay and a master alchemist.

Angishu Fishbiter, a soldier from the land of Unther, possibly a prince of the dynasty of Gilgeam.

Li Xiao, a sage with a Kara-Turian name who learned at the oohessayian Candlekeep.

 

Though the forces of darkness were numerous and strong, the beacon of dawn had been lit.

The innocent of Kolor Ado flocked to the Garrison of Garson, where the abyssal forces had gathered.

Thousands of pilgrims chanted for the unbreaking of the circle and called to the soldiers to lay down their arms.

But the fiends did not, and they answered the prayers with fire.

 

It was the day the local people called Istair on which Chi-Sooze had been slain.

 

As I saw the guiltless burn, so did the flame of radiant justice erupt from within me.

And so the people of Kolor Ado in the realm of Oohessay saw that the Morninglord would never abandon them.

Golden rays of radiance rained from the skies; the wicked were scorched.

And from death, divine life arose.

 

Then the adversaries brought out an apparatus like the one built by Kwalish in a last effort of defense.

But its missile did not break Lathander’s shield.

The virtuous remained unscathed.

 

And as all can be forgiven, the apparatus was absolved and gifted with life.

 

Oh, but the wicked warlocks of the mad ogre king were cunning.

They summoned the dragons of the air force and ordered them to melt the land of Kolor Ado.

 

I knew the light of the rose-gold dawn would not let the new children of Lathander perish.

All would be reborn at dawn.

 

My comrades had located the Nautiloid used by the forces of darkness.

The path was clear, and we sailed through the phlogiston to the Far Realms.

Evil would be defeated.

 

I swore an oath to let all who dwell in the dark feel your holy dawn, oh Morninglord.

 

The people of Earth saw in me the Kolor Ado Chi-Sooze because they could not look into the sun directly.

But I have sown the seeds, and they will find the path to you, Morninglord, Commander of Creativity, Inspiration’s Dawn, the Rose-and-Gold God, Bringer of Dawn, Lord of Birth and Renewal, Patron to Spring and Eternal Youth, Mentor of Self-Perfection, Amauntor, Lord Lathander.

 

There is always another dawn.

The Crypt of St. Cumarin: The Rise of Bill Batmann - Delve #2 (Play Report)

This is a play report for a megadungeon run by my friend bue. I have been told that it contains material from Dyson's Delve. FMC Basic is our framework of choice.

A protocol transcribed by the dreamer of Kurt's life. Abrupt changes in style, inconsistencies, or complaints about tangents are to be addressed to the Lord of Morphine.

Goodbye, sun. Shine all you want, oh burning orb in the skies. The only shine I care for is the one found deep beneath. I look to my buddy Korbinian as I lift my pack. I signal with a nod that I am ready, and he, the ever-vigilant mage that he is, only returns a smirk, while the hired swords Münze and Schwerthelm prepare torches. 

We return to the cave we left but a week ago; the smell of rot and the taste of earth greet us—home sweet home. Ah, what’s that, a familiar noise? A mixture of noise, squeaking, and chattering, known to us individually but novel as a duet. We move carefully through the mountain’s bowels and approach the source of our aural stimulation. Münze notices the drops of sweat on his left hand, how they reflect the flickering light of his torch, and he wonders if this is fear. No, this isn’t fear; I am not afraid, he reassures himself. I am tense because I remember the enormous ferrets, and my employer, Kurt, has promised me wealth beyond my wildest dreams. I have yet to see anything. That greedy bastard. 

This might be a death trap. If these ferrets are still here and if they are hungry, we might be just what they are looking for. I love this kind of danger. It makes me feel alive. I am Kurt, the greatest warrior these lands will ever know, I remind myself as I look at the scene before us. A troupe of seven batfolk are wrestling with the three ferrets we observed last week. They are quite capable and don’t seem bothered by the audience. We commend their bravery with a formal applause. I offer them my knife, hoping to gain their friendship. Oh, what a brute I am! Korbinian only shakes his head; the cave dwellers do not hunt these beasts for sustenance, no, their aim is domestication. I apologize profoundly for my ignorance and gain the attention of one of them. 

Warrior? You help, the little one articulates in broken trade speech. He reminds us, big! big problem!, and we agree to lend our arms to their cause. The earthworm listening in to our conversation only shakes its faceless head; it disapproves of violence. What does it know? It’s only a figment of my imagination. Begone, worm. 

Our new friend leads the willing band of would-be heroes towards where they have traded mushrooms with his kin. Three fire beetles chitter with aggressive joy when they hear about this. The three skitter and race each other, fighting for the right to lead the ambush. The winner sprays a salvo of fire. Münze burns, learning true fear. Schwerthelm remains steadfast but hurt. Korbinian recites one of his metalogical verses and blinds one of the insects. Kurt throws his magical dagger but misses again and again. Korbinian, Schwerthelm, and our guide do not. They squish the pests. 

The display of bravery by our batfolk accomplice does not go unnoticed, and we bequeath him Münze's old sword, which he fashions into an improvised glaive of an impressive quality. Münze had a wife, children, and a mistress who all depended on him. How will they survive? Do we owe them compensation? Korbinian reflects on this while I claim the dead man's chain shirt for myself. 

Our hireling lies dead, and our new friend has earned himself a nom de guerre. Henceforth he will be called Bill Batmann. Life moves on, and so do we. 

I have only known Bill for one session but I love him like a son. 

The two guards are happy to see us again but unwilling to join us. Still, we manage to convince them to stand guard as we approach the problem. We observe bat noises of different pitches and an open fire as well as two smaller batfolk, occupied with menial tasks. Through the use of hand signs, I try to signal to them that we are here to liberate them and try to encourage them to rise against their tormentors. This prompts them to run towards us. Their captors do not hesitate and give chase. We retreat with a plan to use the door as a choke point, holding it shut as good as we can. Thump, thump, thump, the adversary’s fist bangs against the door. And then we pull it open just as another hit would have landed. Caught on the wrong foot, the large batfolk squints, visibly uncertain where to swing its mace. We strike, and I miss again and again. My comrades do not, and the beast falls, Bill Batmann gutting it like a fish. We hug the wall, knowing that this was not a lone foe. 

A second hulking figure appears in the doorframe, and we strike again. My dagger does not find its target. Bill Batmann gets struck and hits the ground. Thirst for vengeance has never been more justified; the giant is slain. 

And as if the gods heard our pleas, Bill Batmann still breathes, though he will need treatment by a proper barber surgeon. 

We decide to look beyond the chamber where the beasts resided, before retreating to town, and find their squalid quarters. A locked chest sits in it and mocks us with its weight. Tears in my eyes, fearing for the life of Bill, I take the great axe I have given to Schwerthelm and ready myself to smash it open. Fortunately, my comrade Korbinian is a man who can keep his calm. Without much effort he produces a key he has found by inspecting the table in the same room. He might think Kurt is acting strange. Since when does he care for anything but silver? Schwerthelm definitely seems a little irritated by the warrior’s impulsiveness. 

Eventually, the chest is opened, and a large cave truffle worth 500 silver pieces is revealed. 

The party hastens back to town, carrying Bill Batmann all the way. A shady surgeon is paid a handsome sum to care for the wounded bat hero. Korbinian convinces Kurt to pitch in for a little widow's fund for Münze's wife. Kurt orders a chain mail to be made for Bill Batmann. 

And thus the legend of Bill Batmann begins.

 

An updated map of what we call the Batlands.

 

The Crypt of St. Cumarin - Delve #1 (Play Report)

This is the first play report for a megadungeon my friend bue is running for us. I have been told that it contains material from Dyson's Delve.  

The following are the notes of a bard who was present when Kurt the Warrior spoke to some youths at the local inn. 

This is a map Kurt drew on a napkin.

Listen, lads. 

Everyone has got to start somewhere. Your old uncle Kurt did too. 

Maybe thirty years ago my buddy Korbinian, who became the legendary wizard you all heard of, and I entered the crypt of Saint Cumarin for the first time. The crypt was supposed to lie beneath some ruins on a little hill. 

We had hired two soulless swords called Schwerthelm and Münze and done the necessary preparations in town. One rumor particularly piqued our interest. Apparently there were alternative entrances along the side of the hill. Hoping that there was less competition, we opted to search for those.

We found it with ease after circling the sides of the hill. A natural cave entrance led us into the depths. 

Now you might expect me to tell you that we encountered a dragon and its hoard inside. But I must disappoint you young listeners. Treasure hunting is slow and tedious work. And it is generally far less exciting than the stories you hear from some romantic poets.  

The cave was dirty. There were bones of what looked to be a giant rodent. From the north and the south, we heard squeaking sounds. 

We gripped our axes and approached the tunnel with less squeaking but quickly turned around when we set our eyes on a trio of gigantic ferrets devouring large rats. The beasts were too occupied to notice our skulking around. 

The tunnel to the north provided an equally unwelcoming situation. Twelve large rats were pressing against the north wall, visibly panicked. They seemed to consider an aggressive reaction to our appearance. Korbinian the wise wove a spell to prevent an escalation and employed a technique I always found disagreeable: empathy. Unfortunately, the magical understanding only reinforced our impression that we needed to leave them be. And so we did.

There was a third tunnel that forked twice but finally led us into a part that resembled human architecture. Rectangular tunnels had always been my favored terrain. 

We turned east and encountered a room occupied by two small, bat-like humanoids. They were concerned with a spiral staircase leading up. You might expect that these were vampiric demon beasts, but they were not. I remind you again, dear listeners, that this is not some fantastic bard's tale. The opposite was true! 

We conversed with these cave dwellers for quite some time. Or tried to, but we were unable to grasp the larger meaning of their explanations. Something to do with “them,” “big,” and “problem.” Although they did tell us that, “Shiny? Deeper!” We parted on friendly terms after Korbinian offered them some garlic and received a handful of rare mushrooms (worth 20 sp) from them. 

Towards the west, we found another spiral staircase. The squeaking noises from above made us turn away from it. Also remember, the batfolk had told us that the “shinies” were below.

South of this room we found our first tomb. There was a large mosaic of a saintly man with fish eyes feeding rats we believed to represent St. Cumarin. To our great disappointment, the sarcophagus was empty except for a corpse in rags. Korbinian had the idea to look for hidden switches within the mosaic, but we were without success. 

Continuing southwards, we stumbled upon another tomb, a smaller one. But this one had a corpse with a dagger sticking out of it inside. Finally, something I remember myself exclaiming in the moment. I carefully extended my hand to grip the dagger's hilt and pull it out. You know what happened then, kids? The corpse twitched and grabbed my wrist. But we were quick on our feet, and through combined force we laid the undead to rest. 

With the shiny dagger (magical, +1, returns when thrown), we retreated to return another day. You see even legends begin small. I'll tell you more about our exploits next week.

 

The Meldan Family Tomb (Play Report)

This report may be a bit incoherent. I waited too long to write it.

We love a dungeon. Last week bue offered to run a quick one for me and our friend J. after dinner. I was excited to crawl because I don’t get to do it as often as I’d like to. 

We used FMC Basic to roll up Xavier Bert the Expert and Willem the Fighter. The referee was so kind as to provide us with a mercenary named Orcus Porcus, who brought an axe. 

Our characters had heard that there was some trouble with the living dead in the tomb of the noble family Meldan. A 500 gp reward was promised to whoever dealt with the troubles and rescued the missing guards, previously sent to deal with the affair. This was more than enough incentive for X. Bert and Willem.

We entered from the south, where we encountered the statue of a Meldan patriarch who seemed to have had a fondness for cats. Moving westward, we came across burial niches left and right. But many of the corpses were covered in red-blue coral-like growths. This rang some alarm bells. Fearing they were infectious and dangerous, we moved along after some light poking.

Faced with the choice between moving through a curtain of the alien corals or opening a heavy door, we chose the latter. A very irritated aristocrat was on the other side of it. He looked to be in the process of sticking bronze needles into a rabid, growth-covered corpse. Two silent giants decorated with bronze pins stood guard behind him. Assuming that this party would prefer to remain private, X. Bert shut the door only to be called upon by the disturbed academic. He shouted something along the lines of “Who are you? Get back here!”

 

X. Bert's map of the tomb.

 

Thus we joined the man of presumably Meldan heritage for some discourse. He ordered us to get rid of the infection that was taking over his servants and in return offered us the contents of his family tomb. Valuing our lives and seeing a chance for profitable enterprise, we agreed.

We returned to the entry as we did not like the idea of moving through the curtain. At the east end of the corridor, we were met with a door as well as a portcullis. The latter did not open, and we chose the door to the north. Before we got to open it, there was a brief encounter with a mute giant who presumably was in the service of the Meldan necromancer. The large corpse left us be and continued its patrol. 

Behind the door to the north, there was a group of almost dead guardsmen. They had been severely decimated by some creatures. The survivors did not even entertain the notion to stay and bolted as soon as we arrived. We pilfered their fallen comrades, which caused some noise. This attracted a group of growth-covered bodies. Lucky for us, the guards had left some fortifications we were able to use to our advantage. Slaying the creatures made us overly confident. It also made me forget about the tapestries on the walls the referee had pointed out several times…

We moved further north and came across stalagmite-like growths. Crossing the affected zone, we eventually came to another burial chamber where there were four giants lying on stone slabs holding big two-handed swords. They started to move, and not 5 minutes later, Wllem and Orcus were dead. X. Bert ran for his life without treasure or fame.

The session was a success because we spent two hours playing as friends and had fun.

The session was a failure because we messed up quite a bit as characters. We didn’t play as smart as we should have, forgot to look for secret doors, and decided to face the giant undead in battle. 

I thought about writing up a post about failing as a player, but that seems like too much work and unnecessarily tough on ourselves. Sometimes you are tired, and sometimes you forget how to play the play style you adore. You can’t expect to pull off a big scheme every session. Still, this served as a reminder that playing well isn’t as easy as it sometimes seems from behind the referee screen. 

 

Agrippa von Netteshârn, a radical optimist (Shifty Louts Play Report)

[report for a session of shifty louts refereed by jay_zero]

The rambling of Agrippa von Netteshârn as transcribed by the guardsmen that arrested him.

„It was a nice morning. The sun had just risen, and the songbirds were in love. This flowery display by nature herself drove me underground. There, within the tomb filled with miniature bones, I made new friends: Hindy, Akos, and Kenny. They had just parted ways with a group of rather grumpy mummies. Eager to avoid more awkward encounters with the local populace, we moved on. Somewhere along the way I was gifted three bottles by an impoverished noble—he lacked flesh and skin—but still we toasted to his health, emptying one of the liquids. One or two doors later we were greeted by an old acquaintance, visibly upset by the fact that I had transmuted a door into glass. In the mood for more pranks, we hid in a hole and crawled, leaving the ghost of friendship past dazed and confused. The true prank was delivered by the universe that day; the tunnel behind the hole led back to where our bond of camaraderie was first forged. Nonetheless, we remained a joyful band. We made our way back to the tunnel we expected to lead us into the sunlight. And there it was, the beautiful melody of the brightest day. Only then did we realise the disturbance. A pack of vicious guard dogs, legionnaires I would name them, loitered in a tomb. One last jest was required of us. A tossed bottle, some nervous coughs, and sixteen bleeding eyes later, serenity prevailed.“