Iron Rations Part XIV

by Matt Borselli

Devon looked around the well-lit tavern room and lifted his mug of Basilisk Ale to his lips, paused, then put the mug down. Glancing briefly at the empty chair next to him, he turned to his two companions seated with him at the table.

     "I still can't believe he's gone. It's only been a few weeks but ...." he trailed off.

     Aithne of Far Isle said nothing while Apris the Wonderous bowed her head and weeped silently.

     Devon thought back on that day ....

     The door to the cabin exploded inward and a bedraggled and dirty trio surged in. Aithne of Far Isle, with her bow held ready and an arrow nocked, quickly swept the sparse cabin, seeking the old man who sent them into that deathtrap below. Devon supported a near-unconscious Apris, dragging her into the cabin and placing her gently on the rough cot.

     "He's not here," said Aithne, as Devon secured the door and set about lighting a fire in the fireplace. A quick search found the disguise that the man had used and the clay jar of coins that, when counted out, was only 3 gold.

     "Abel ..." Devon whispered, "He ... he could have made it out. After we got separated, he could have made it out!" His voice shivered and gained some strength then returned to a whisper. "Couldn't he?"

     Aithne shrugged and said nothing. The gold inlaid stone that stretched across the floor of the exit tunnel had somehow prevented the ghouls from following them but there was no knowing if Abel made it that far.

     Apris stirred on the cot as the paralysis from the ghoul's touch was starting to wear off. Devon moved to her side and started bandaging her wounds. She turned her head away from him and began to softly cry.

     "I'm sorry about Abel," Devon told the weeping mage, "I'm so sorry ...."

     Aithne looked grimly at the pair and said "We've got a man to find and kill. Slowly."

...

     They had spent a week recovering in the cabin but saw no sign of the man or of Abel. They spiked the stone door in the cellar shut and painted warnings on it in as many languages as they could think of or remember. Hopefully that would keep out any curious folk. At least until they were strong enough to return and find their friend's bones and finally destroy the ghouls below.

     With no leads and few prospects, they started the search. Two weeks later, still nothing. Devon pounded the table. NOTHING! Surely someone knows something! And that 3 gold was spent long ago. They could barely afford the ales before them and definitely not any dinner.

     While the trio was deep in their thoughts, an old man stepped in front of their table. He rapped his knuckles on the rough wooden surface, bringing them out of their reverie.

     "Drunk or asleep?" the old man gruffly asked. When he got no response but dull looks, he took a seat in the empty chair. Abel's chair. The furious look on Aithne's face did not deter him or he, just as likely, failed to recognize ready murder less than an arm's length away.

     "You're strangers here, ain't ya? And adventurers?" he continued, "Have you eaten? Looking for work?"

     Devon cleared his throat and said thickly "Uh, yeah. Work ...." Surprisingly, Apris responded clearly "Sir, we are looking for work and we are hungry. Buy us a meal and we'll hear your tale." She calmly put her hand on Aithne's arm, a gesture which, a few short weeks ago, would have never happened.

     "I've got a private room over there. Let's repair to it and you'll have your meal. And your tale," said the old man, standing up. "I'm Burke, Burke Linderstead, by the way. The mayor, sheriff and miller of Westfield. Come along."

     Once in the room and with steaming plates of food and filled mugs in front of them, Burke told the adventurers "We've got a grave robber and that black heart stole my daughter's body. Her name is Sara and I want her back and I want to know who hired the robber. I want justice! And you, my friends, are going to get it for me."

****

     The thorpe of Westfield has a problem. Someone is stealing their dead from the small cemetery that the village shares with their neighboring (2 mile distant) village Eastfield. So far, only Burke Linderstead, the miller (and nominally mayor and sheriff), suspects the truth. While he has no definitive proof (he hasn't raised the alarm, yet), he's pretty certain that his daughter's grave was plundered and, as he's spent some time in the cemetery, realized that her grave wasn't the only one robbed. Not only Westfield's graves, but some of Eastfield's have been robbed, too.

     He has no idea who the grave robber is but figures he's a local. He doesn't know how long it's been going on but guesses that it's been over a year. Not wanting to make wild accusations, and fearing that he'll be thought a grief-addled crack-pot, he wants the PCs to investigate for him. He'll pay them well but wants the culprits returned to Westfield for justice (and the corpses for proper re-burial).

     Burke tells the PCs that there is a funeral tomorrow, the Widow Gainnes, and he believes the thief will strike tomorrow night. He wants the blackguard caught but he also wants the man responsible for it, too, so he's OK with them chosing their methods, either capturing the grave robber to question or following him to the trade point.

     The cemetery is located between Westfield and Eastfield, about a mile from each village. The cemetery contains a small shrine to the spirits and there are several stands of trees around which will provide cover.

     Burke takes the PCs to the cemetery and points out the graves he believes were disturbed (about 12) but there is little to discover, except that the new grave for the widow is freshly dug and waiting for tomorrow. The grave was dug earlier in the day by several Westfellian farmers, none of whom are involved in the robberies.

     Burke offers the PCs a fairly comfortable night's stay in his mill, as it will be easy to slip out unseen from the rest of the village when they go about their business.

     At the funeral the next day, if the PCs attend, there seems to be no ready suspect, just a bunch of grieving people. Assuming the PCs stake out the cemetery that night, they catch the grave robber, Merrick, in the act.

Merrick the Grave Robber, Normal Human; Alignment: Neutral; AC 10; Hit Dice: 2; Hit Points 6; Attacks: club (shovel, d6); Move: 60'; Languages: Common.       Merrick will only fight to defend his very life and prefers fleeing if confronted.

     If the PCs capture and questioned Merrick as to who hired him, that trips the Hidden Message spell (Iridia #28) that Merrick has been carrying with him for these many months. The Hidden Message simply states "So you're interested in who this worm works for? Fools and meddlers! Come seek me at the ring of ancient standing stones three leagues north of Toril's Grove on the eave of Midsummer and earn your doom!"

     Whether the PCs capture him to interrogate or follow him, Merrick leads them to a nearby ruin, where he waits for his buyer. The buyer, however, does not show up. Instead, an undead trap is sprung! 6 zombies rise from the ruins and attack!

Zombies (6); Alignment: Chaotic; Armor Class: 8; Hit Dice: 2d8, Hit Points: 15, 12, 10, 9, 8, 6; Attacks: club or rusty longsword (1d8); Save: F1; Morale: 12.

     Assuming the PCs are victorious, they've got one prisoner and 6 corpses. The zombies were from the cemetery and, while pretty badly hacked, are gratefully welcomed back by their kin for proper re-burial. Burke's daughter Sara isn't among them but the PCs still earn their reward. The rendezvous with the mastermind behind this evil scheme is left to the GM to determine.

****

     Devon's short sword bounced harmlessly off the zombie's tough hide as he ducked under his opponent's outstretched hands, narrowly avoiding being grappled and crushed to death. Around him, Apris was casting her magic and Aithne of Far Isle was firing arrows as fast as elvinly possible into the zombies, while that useless rat-faced coward Merrick was curled up into a ball, screaming like a little girl. Things looked pretty grim!

     Then from the darkness, a howling battle cry cut through the night and Abel Artone lept into the ruins, sword flashing in the torchlight, chopping one, then another of the zombies down. The shock of Abel's appearance even caused the zombies to pause briefly but soon the combat renewed.

     "Devon! Apris! Aithne!" cried Abel, "To me!" '

     Soon Abel and Devon were fighting back to back against a pair of zombies. Devon, bewildered by his friend's sudden and unexpected resurrection, focused hard on the enemy before him - after all, even with Abel here, they could lose! When the last zombie dropped, the trio turned to their good (and alive friend) Abel, and mobbed him.

     Abel raised his hands "Peace, peace! Let me tell my tale! I made it out of the ghoul's nest, I don't know how, but I was found by a friendly hermit who (with his mountain lion companion) patched me up and took care of me for two weeks. By the time I made it back to the cabin, you were gone, so I've followed you since. I arrived in Westfield late tonight and when I asked around, Burke told me where you'd be. I followed that one screaming" he continued, pointing to Merrick, "and here I am!"

     Turning to Apris, he handed her a wand and said "I'm sorry I frightened you but I hope this makes up for it. I found this trifle in the ghoul's lair. Perhaps it's useful?" Apris squealed with joy - a Wand of Magic Missile!

     Gathering up the prisoner, they soon were on their way back to Westfield. Devon looked at his friends and smiled. "We came for a corpse," he thought, "and found one of our own, alive!"

Iron Rations Part XIII

by Matt Borselli

The companions were standing at the side of a dusty road, looking at a crude wooden sign posted on a tree. The sign in part read "Hiroz want'b" with more script below and an arrow pointing to the left. Devon Ashwood scratched his head. Abel Artone just looked baffled. Apris stared intently at the sign. Aithne of Far Isle was watching the woods.

     Apris said, "I think I know what it says: Heroes Wanted."

     Abel interjected, "That's an arrow, pointing that way. I can read that much."

     Devon asked, "Is that a three or a five?"

     "A five, and I think that's gold. I think," said Apris.

     "Are we done here?" asked Aithne. "I don't trust these woods. I feel we're being watched. Besides, 5 gold isn't much," she finished.

     "Well, it's more than we have right now. I say we check it out,” said Abel. He wrenched the sign loose from the tree and he started walking, following the arrow's direction. The rest of the group followed him.

     "What if it's only three gold?" asked Devon.

*****

     A series of signs lead them through the woods to a rough cabin made of old stone blocks and timber. It appeared that the cabin was built on the ruins of a tower, with one of the cabin walls made up of what remained of the tower wall. A raven and a songbird watched from a high pine tree.

     Abel loosened his sword in its sheath and muttered to himself, "I hope this is a serious job offer."

     Devon walked up to the door and hammered on it. Apris sat down on a large stone block next to Abel, resting her feet. The door remained closed, and Devon looked back at his friends. "Maybe nobody's ho-," he started to say as the door opened.

     A greasy old man, stooped with age and not smelling too good, stepped out. A scowl seemed permanently etched upon his face. "Well? What d'ya want?" he growled.

     Devon stepped back, not quite out of smell range and said, "Uh, well, uh. We saw that," pointing to the sign in Abel's hand.

     "Ah! Ye must be heroes! Yes!" a gap-toothed grin appeared and the old man motioned to the companions, "Come in, come in!"

     The interior of the cabin smelled of old fish and beans. A table with two chairs stood in the center of the room and a barred door was against the back wall, right next to a curtained area with an unmade bed beyond.

     The old man said, "I've got me a problem. I kin pay, if'n ya kin fix it for me." He hurried to a shelf and pulled down an old clay jar. He spilled the jar on the table and started counting out grimy coins, "1, 2, 3, .... Well, I think I have 'bout 5 geld here, in coppa and silva, if that's to yer likin'." He stopped and covered the coins with his hands and said, "But ye got to finish it, first. I'm not payin' up front!"

     Abel started to think this was a waste of time so he threw the sign down on the table and angrily asked, "What's your problem, Old Man?"

     "I've got somethin' livin' in me cellar. Kin ye handle it?" came the angry retort. "Or do ye get out?" The old man's eyes flashed fire!

     Devon stepped forward, holding up his hands. "Stay calm, everyone. Yes, we're here to help. What is it?"

     The old man grinned. "If I'da known that, I'da handled it meself! It's been makin' some noise fer some time. I don't like to go into the cellar no more." He went to the cellar door, removed the bar, and opened it. Taking a battered lantern down from a shelf, he lit it and held it out to Devon.

     "Thar's an old stone door at the bottom o' the stairs. I've ne'er open'd it but the noise is comin' from behind it. Ya suppose it'd be a Troll?" he said, pointing into the darkness.

     Devon and Aithne stuck their heads into the cellar and looked down the stairs. "Pretty rickety," thought Aithne. "I'm more likely to break my neck going down them than get hurt by whatever's there." Out loud she said, "Lead on, Devon. You have the light."

     Devon stepped into the cellar and slowly walked down the stairs. They swayed but did not break. The cellar was full of boxes and bales, tubs and barrels. Root vegetables hung from the ceiling and the smell was earthy. A large stone door was set in the far wall. Devon stepped up to it and listened, but didn't hear anything.

     Aithne, Abel and Apris followed him, but the old man didn't come down, instead watching from the top of the stairs.

     "Well," Abel said, pulling out his sword, "Let's go kill some beasties!" and the group marched through the door.

The Cabin and Dungeon

1. Cabin 
     The cabin is made of stone blocks and timber, with one whole wall part of the former tower. The inside is none too clean. A simple table with two chairs is in the center of the room. Behind a curtain is the old man's sleeping quarters. The walls are hung with lots of junk, shelves filled with old tools, rusted chains, jars with odds and ends. The old man's treasure consists of 5 gold, mostly copper and a few silver, in a clay jar. A barred stout wooden door leads down to the cellar.

2. Cellar 
     The cellar is original to the tower. Rickety wooden stairs lead down to a room with root vegetables and barrels of brackish water, weak ale and other stale foodstuffs, and broken furniture. A single stone door exits the cellar to the maze. The door is one-way into the maze.

3. The Maze 
     The door clicks ominously closed, locking the PCs in the maze. A bunch of passages lead off in different directions. The smell here is of deep earth with a faint touch of decay. At each location (A) is a dead (and devoured) adventurer. Mostly they are skeletons. Rooting about the body will result in:

     Roll 1d8
          1. 1d4 gold pieces
          2. A disease! GM's choice
          3. 1d4 silver pieces
          4. A broken weapon
          5. A useful piece of equipment. GM's choice
          6. A dagger
          7. A sword
          8. A broken lantern.

4. Ghoul! 
     A ghoul (hp 7) waits here, listening for the door to open. He'll follow the party for a while, looking for an opportunity to attack a lone PC.

Ghoul: AC: 6, HD: 2, Move: 90’ (30’), Attacks: 2 claws/1 bite, Damage: 1-3, all + special, Save As: Fighter 2, Morale: 9, Alignment: Chaotic.      A successful attack by a ghoul will paralyze any creature of ogre-size or smaller (except elves) unless the victim saves versus Paralysis. The paralysis lasts 2-8 turns unless removed by a cure light wounds spell.

5. Open Cavern
     An open cavern. There are 2d6 giant rats (2 hp each) searching for food here. They will attack a lone PC but may not attack a large party. If the rats attack, the ghoul from location 4 will attack as well, hoping to get a tasty snack!

Giant Rat: AC: 7, HD: 1-4 hit points, Move: 120’ (40’), Attacks: 1 bite, Damage: 1-3 + disease, Save As: Fighter 1, Morale: 8, Alignment: Neutral.      Anyone bitten by a giant rat has a 1 in 20 chance of being infected. This chance should be checked each time a rat successfully hits. The victim may still avoid the disease by making a saving throw vs. Poison. If failed, the victim will either die in d6 days or the victim will be sick in bed (unable to adventure) for one month. Roll 1d4: the disease is only deadly on a result of 1. The disease may be cured magically.

6. Ghoul Lair 
     This is the main Ghoul lair. The remaining two ghouls (hp 12, 6) are resting here. There is a wand of magic missiles (7 charges) in a pile of bones and about 62 gold pieces, in various denominations, scattered about. A crude secret door is against the back wall as an escape route if necessary.

7. Blessed Stone
     A gold inlaid piece of stone, blessed by some unknown holy god from the past, stretches across the tunnel here. The Ghouls cannot pass this holy area.

8. Exit 
     Exit to a small cave a fair distance from the cabin.


*****

     The old stone door clicked shut and the cellar was plunged in darkness again. The old man stood at the top of the stair with a slight smile on his face. He waited a bit, then slowly closed the door and barred it again. Walking to a basin filled with water, he washed off his face, removing the thick makeup, then he slowly straightened up, stretching his arms and back. The wig went under the bed and so did the smelly clothes. The now much younger and taller man put on a blue robe and pointed hat, put the false teeth into his pocket and picked up a staff hidden by the curtains. Returning to the cellar door, he listened at it, then satisfied that no one was coming out of there, past the one-way door he had rigged, he calmly walked out the door, closing it silently behind him.

     Finding the abandoned hut was a stroke of luck and the ghouls there made for an excellent trap. Those few other adventurers that happened by were wonderful test subjects until his true quarry wandered in. His contact in Haldane would pay him well for finally getting rid of those meddlers.

     The raven landed on the man's shoulder as he left the cabin. The smiling wizard and his familiar quickly walked out of the clearing into the woods, with only the songbird left to see them go. Night fell and the songbird flew away.

Iron Rations Part XII

Despite their comfortable accommodations, Abel was furious.

     He, Apris, Devon and Aithne had found a quaint village and decided to stay a few days for rest and recuperation. Although they did not speak of it, the encounter with Olwyn the Cleric weighed heavily on their minds. They had booked some nice rooms at a cozy inn and were settling down for a nice evening.

     That’s when the local wizard walked in. Charismatic, intelligent and worldly, he wasted no time in attempting to charm Apris. (Aithne found him boorish and retired to her room.) Apris was awed by the wizard’s exploits and hung on his every word. They sat by the fire, sipping brandy, while Devon and Abel looked on from across the room.

     “Who the hell does this guy think he is?” hissed Abel.

     “I think he said his name was Arkon the Enchanter,” replied Devon.

     “I don’t care what he calls himself. I’m going to kick his ass.” Abel got up and walked toward Arkon, fists balled.

     “Oh, Abel, I’m so glad you joined us,” said Arkon, looking up from his glass. “I was just telling Apris that you and your friends would be perfect for a task I need completed. I can pay you well.”

     “What?” asked Abel. Impatient, he continued. “Listen, friend, I don’t care about your task or your gold. I just want to go to bed and I’m taking Apris with me.”

     Looking to Apris, he said, “Let’s go.”

     “You are being rude!” exclaimed Apris. “Arkon has a lot to offer us and you are spoiling everything!”

     His voice rising in anger, Abel spat, “Apris, get your butt upstairs. I’m not in the mood for this.”

     Embarrassed, Arkon stood up and said, “I’ll leave you two to your dispute. Perhaps we’ll talk in the morning.”

     “Don’t bet on it,” shot Abel.

     Ignoring the comment, Arkon walked for the door. Apris and Abel’s argument grew more and more heated and Devon could only shake his head in disbelief. Hoping to salvage the night, he hurried out after Arkon, calling as he went. “Wait! Wait! I assure you that we can complete any task you need! Please, wait!”

Arkon the Enchanter, Level 5 Magic User; Alignment: Neutral; AC 9 (ring of protection +1); Hit Dice 5; Hit Points 12; Attacks: dagger (d4); Move: 90'; Languages: Common, Elvish, Dwarven Abilities: Str 11, Int 16, Wis 15 (+1 on magic-based saving throws), Dex 12, Con 9, Ch 14 (+1 adjustment to reactions) Spells: Sleep, Shield, Invisibility, Web, Fireball;   Equipment: Ring of Protection +1, Wand of Paralyzation (5 charges), dagger, 20 gp.

Iron Rations Part XI

Devon could no longer contain his curiosity. He finally worked up the courage and asked, “Aithne, why are you willing to help the halflings? Charity isn’t normally something that motivates you.”

     “I could really care less about the halflings, Devon. I simply want to learn more about the human called Olwyn, who protects the spiders.”

     “What do you mean learn more about?” asked Abel.

     “What do you think I mean, Abel?” Aithne flatly replied.

     “I think you want to torch her like you did that freak we met in Haldane.”

     “Perhaps.”

     The four companions wandered on in silence, each pondering the events to come. Apris seemed especially worried, wringing her hands and anxiously looking at Abel.

     “Abel, why does Aithne want to fight the cleric?”

     “I’m not sure, Apris. I can’t say that Aithne wants to fight, but if it comes, she certainly won’t walk away.”

     “I feel that by helping the halflings we’re really helping Aithne to further her own agenda.”

     “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.” said Abel.

     Meanwhile, the cleric Olwyn sat on a stump, watching intently as a spider wrapped a hafling in a silk cocoon. The halfling had stopped struggling and a stream of blood now oozed from the poor fellow’s mouth and nostrils. Olwyn was detached from the event, simply viewing it as the ebb and flow of life. She had no idea that very soon an elven woman would engulf her in flames and would look at her charred corpse with equal apathy.

Olwyn, Level 2 Cleric; Alignment: Neutral; Hit Dice: 2; Hit Points: 9; Attacks: sling (+1 to hit, 1d4 damage); Move: 90’; Languages: Common;  Abilities: Str 9, Int 12, Wis 15 (+1 magic-based saving throws), Dex 14 (+ 1 to hit, -1 AC bonus), Con 11, Ch 12; AC: 6 (leather armor, -1 dex);  Special Abilities: +1 on initiative, turn undead;  Spells: Light; Equipment: sling, 12 sling stones, leather armor.

Iron Rations Part X

Abel Artone pointed at the diminutive figure before him and laughed. Hard. He didn't stop for quite a while. When he finally did, his face was red from the effort. Finally, Abel composed himself.

     Turning to Devon, he asked, “What the hell is that?”

     “That would be a halfling.”

     “Halfling? Half of what?”

     “That does it!” The halfling stomped his foot and yelled, “I will not be disrespected. I have come to you for aid and this is the response I get? Stupid human!”

     Apris glared at Abel, unhappy with the way he mocked the poor little fellow. Aithne then stepped forward to address the halfling, shaking her head as she did so. Abel was forever irritating her with his ignorance.

      “I apologize for our warrior’s manners. He is of low breeding and has had his mind addled by repeated beatings from superior foes.”

     She continued speaking over Abel’s protests. “I am Aithne of Far Isle and I invite you to share your misfortunes with us.”

     With that, the halfling began his tale of woe...

     Gimble Tuffney is in a terrible way. His village is plagued by massive spiders that lurk in the woods nearby. For years, the spiders stayed deep in the woods, content to prey upon deer and other wildlife. As game became more scarce, the spiders expanded their hunting grounds to include the edge of the forest where Gimble and the other halflings forage for wood, mushrooms and wild herbs.

     Gimble’s fellow villagers want to enter the woods and set fire to the spiders’ nest, but they are afraid to do so. Complicating matters is the presence of a cleric, who serves a nature deity. This cleric, named Olwyn, has warned the halflings against such drastic action. Olwyn argues that the spiders have as much of a right to exist as the halflings. An act of genocide would be unconscionable in her opinion.

     Desperate, Gimble left his village in order to find help from an outside, clandestine force. He hopes to hire adventurers to stealthily enter the woods, slay the spiders, then escape before Olwyn notices. Sadly, he has little to offer, but perhaps the spiders’ nest contains coins and treasure acquired from waylaid travelers?

Gimble Tuffney, Level 1 Halfling; Alignment: Lawful; AC: 6 (leather armor, -1 dex); Hit Dice: 1; Hit Points: 6; Attacks: short bow (+2 to hit, 1d6 damage); Move: 90’; Languages: Common, Halfling; Abilities: Str 7 (-1 to hit and damage), Int 13, Wis 12, Dex 15 (+ 1 to hit, -1 AC bonus), Con 9, Ch 12; Special Abilities: +1 on initiative, -2 to AC when attacked by larger than man-sized creatures, 10% chance of being spotted in woods or underbrush; Possessions: short bow, 20 arrows, leather armor, water skin, iron rations, blanket, 5 gp.

Iron Rations Part IX

Aithne hated to admit it, but things weren’t looking good. She and her companions had wandered for days in the mountains, looking for some dwarven ruins. When they finally found them, Aithne almost wished they hadn’t.

     The ruins were built into a cliff face, with only the remnants of large double doors visible. The doors were in terrible shape and it was clear that a great battle had taken place here long ago. Deep cuts were visible in the doors, as if they had been hacked at with axes. Littering the entrance were the skeletal remains of goblins and dwarves alike.

     Abel gripped his sword nervously. He looked at Devon and asked, “This is going to suck, isn’t it?” 

     “Yes, Abel, I think it will.”

     “Great,” muttered Apris. “I’m probably going to get mauled or something.”

     “One can hope,” thought Aithne. “One can hope…”

Dwarven Way Station
     The companions have located an abandoned way station used by dwarves from the Shale Mountains as a resting place during their prospecting expeditions. Eventually, a goblin warband discovered its location and attacked en masse. Ten dwarven defenders held off 100 goblins for several days until finally succumbing. The victorious goblins looted the way station then left. Since then it has been used as a lair for a number of wandering monsters. Currently, six bugbears are residing within.

a) Entrance
     A short flight of stairs carved into the rock leads up to large, wooden double doors. The double doors are in terrible disrepair. It appears as if they have been hacked at with axes and battered with rocks, in addition to being peppered with arrows. Scattered about are the skeletal remains of several dwarves and a few dozen goblins. The weapons and armor of the fallen are rusted and have no value.

b) Foyer
     This small space is occupied by the skeletal remains of a few dwarves and at least a dozen goblins. The skeletons completely cover the floor. There are two iron torch sconces in the wall. There is nothing of value in this room.

c) Front Hall 
     Skeletal remains, dwarf and humanoid alike, litter the floor. There is nothing of value to be found amid the chipped axes and rusted mail. Iron torch sconces are built into the walls. A wooden door in the north wall is slightly ajar. Unknown to the characters, a bugbear sentry listens on the other side. It will silently move away from the door to alert its companions in the main hall. 

d) Main Hall
     A nasty surprise awaits the first character through this door. Ready to pounce are three bugbears, with three more lurking in the shadows. When the door is opened by a character, the bugbears will surprise the party on a roll of 1-3 on a d6. After the first round of combat, the remaining three bugbears will emerge from the shadows to attack.

     Anything of value in this room has been carried away long ago. There are doors in the north, east and west walls. The sconces in the walls do not hold torches, so the room will be pitch black unless the party has a light source.

Bugbears (6); AC: 5, Hit Dice: 3+1, Hit Points: 13, Move: 90’, Attacks: 1, Damage: d6+1 (club), Save As: Fighter 3, Morale: 9, Alignment: Chaotic, Special: Bugbears surprise on a roll of 1-3 on a d6.       Due to their strength, they add +1 to damage when using a weapon.

e) Storage
     This room was once used as storage by the dwarves. It is now empty, except for a few cave crickets and spiders.

f) Kitchen
     An iron pot hangs from the ceiling, suspended by a chain. The bugbears are using the pot as a convenient storage place for their treasure. Inside are 250 cps, 100 sp and 100 gp.

     To guard their loot, a pit viper (8 hp) has been placed on top of the coins. The snake has been fed a rat to keep it from wandering off. Any character foolish enough to stick a hand into the pot is in for a nasty surprise.

Pit Viper; AC 6, Hit Dice: 2, Hit Points: 8, Move 90’ (30’), Attacks: 1 bite, Damage: 1-4 + poison, Save As: Fighter 1, Morale: 7, Alignment: Neutral.      Due to their keen senses, pit vipers always win initiative. Any victim bitten by a pit viper must save vs. Poison or die.

g) Sleeping Quarters
     After descending a flight of stairs, the characters will arrive in a chamber once used as a communal sleeping area. The wooden bunks have succumbed to dry rot. A few insects skitter about.

     In the SE corner is a secret storage space in the floor. The space - a mere 3’ x 3’ x 3’ - is concealed under an expertly cut flagstone that blends in perfectly with the floor. An elf character who rolls a 1-2 on a d6 will be able to locate it. A +1 sword is hidden inside. It was commissioned by a noble decades ago, but was never delivered.

Post Script
     Abel Artone slumped against the wall. His head pounded and blood oozed down his cheek from a cut above his eye. Apris the Wondrous dabbed at the wound, whispering encouraging words to him.

     “You did well, Abel. I’m so proud of you, so so proud.”

     “As am I,” said Devon as he stepped into the room, a smile upon his face. “I found something for you, Abel.”

     “I hope it’s not another bugbear, Devon. Those damn things really pack a punch. Forget dwarves. I used to hate dwarves, but now I hate bugbears.”

     “Well, this will make you feel better.”

     Devon placed a finely crafted sword on Abel’s lap. Delicate runes etched into its keen blade hinted at its magical nature. Abel clutched the blade to his chest.

     “Thank you, Devon. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

     Upon noting the frown on Apris’ face, he amended his words.

     “I mean besides Apris it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

     With that said, Abel leaned back and closed his eyes for a bit of well-deserved rest.

Iron Rations Part VIII

In the back alleys of a city called Haldane, Devon and his companions searched for a renegade cleric named Gareth. Gareth claimed to be the loyal servant of a forgotten demigod of the crows, a god called M’kai. Gareth preached that the crow god was furious because he had been forsaken by his followers and was committed to reclaiming the skies. Gareth warned that any who failed to worship M’kai would have their eyes torn from their sockets.

     Devon and his friends had been hired by city officials to track Gareth down after attempts to do so by the watch had failed. When they finally encountered Gareth in an abandoned warehouse, he was naked save for a robe of feathers. Filthy and crazed, Gareth began calling to his god for aid as dozens of crows flapped their wings and cawed loudly.

     At the top of his lungs Gareth screeched, “Do you think you can harm me? Fools! I serve M’kai the sky god and he will tear your flesh to ribbons!”

     Abel Artone nervously drew his sword, scarcely able to comprehend the sight before him.

     “Seriously, Devon. This guy is freaking nuts.”

     As he fumbled for an arrow , Devon replied, “I know, Abel. How about we let Aithne take him?”

     “Agreed.” said Abel. “I don’t want to tangle with this guy. Not even a little.”

     With that said, Abel and Devon backed away, dragging the speechless Apris with them. Aithne simply shook her head at her friends’ reaction, then stepped forward to ready a spell.

Gareth, Level 3 Cleric; Alignment: Chaotic; AC: 10; Hit Dice: 2; Hit Points: 12; Attacks: dagger (1d4) Move: 120’;  Languages: Common; Abilities: Str 11, Int 11, Wis 14 (+1 on magic-based saving throws), Dex 13 (+1 to hit with missile weapons, -1 AC bonus, +1 initiative bonus), Con 11, Ch 10;   Spells: Cure Light Wounds, Cause Light Wounds;    Possessions: 10 gp, 20 sp tucked under a pile of crow feathers.

Iron Rations Part VII

To Devon Ashwood, the only thing more fascinating than watching Abel and Apris devour one another’s faces was seeing them argue.

     After hacking through the goblins with ease, Apris was rather upset. The final goblin they faced was a pregnant female. When confronted by the party, she backed into a corner, hissing and brandishing a knife. Abel did not hesitate to kill her. He had sustained a rather nasty wound earlier and was in a foul mood as a result. A quick sword blow to her throat ended it quickly. Apris was shocked.

     “By the gods, Abel! How could you do such a thing!?”
     “Do what?” Abel asked.
     “You killed her when she was pregnant! Why? You should’ve just let her go!”
     “Pregnant? I just thought it was fat. Besides, I didn't even know it was female. How can you tell, anyway?”
     “Fat? Did you say fat?! What, are you going to stab me next?!” (Apris was terribly self-conscious about her weight, something that Aithne loved to bother her about.)

     With that final outburst, Apris stormed away in tears. Devon stepped forward to console his friend.

     “It’s not your fault, Abel. Apris is pretty sensitive and all the violence upsets her. How about we wait until the rain ends, then we’ll leave? Our map says there’s supposed to be a village nearby. We’ll tell the locals that we killed some goblins and maybe they'll buy us a few pints to say thanks. By then, Apris should be feeling better.”

     Abel smiled at the suggestion. “Yeah, Devon, that sounds good. I think the sign we saw on our way here said something about a place called Combe. It sounds nice, real nice.”

Combe
     Grason Combe was a skilled warrior who built a reputation battling the basilisks that once roamed the area. The village, which lays along a busy trade route, was named after him.

     The village’s only inn - The Welcome Rest - is known for its stuffed grouse. A delicious meal and a night’s stay (two guests to a room) can be had for 1 gp. The inn is a great place to learn about road conditions from the merchants who are passing through. It’s also possible to secure work as a caravan guard from these same individuals.

     Amber Combe, a descendent of Grason, lives in the village. She makes a comfortable living collecting rent from the tracts of land she owns. Sadly, the family fortune has dwindled considerably due to mismanagement by several relatives. Always looking for a way to improve her finances, Amber is willing to underwrite any trade venture or expedition that will turn a profit. For example, Amber would like to fund a foray to investigate some ruins, which lay deep within a nearby forest.

     Her ancestor, Grason, never explored them, but he believed that the basilisks gathered all manner of treasure there. He speculated that the woods held some kind of great nest that spawned all the basilisks that terrorized the region. Grason wanted to mount an expedition himself, but he was unable to do so. His retainers were simply too afraid to go. In exchange for a portion of the treasure, Amber would provide gold to hire mercenaries and purchase supplies.

     Visitors to Combe might also stop by Basilisk Ales, a small brewery run by Gimble Burrowell. Gimble, a halfling who exhibits the mirth and charm typical of his race, runs the operation with the help of his two nephews, Jenner and Tanner. Gimble has a rather irregular production schedule, so he often requires transportation services at the last minute. Therefore, he might be willing to hire the party to haul several kegs of ale to nearby towns and villages, provided the party has a wagon of its own and an honest disposition.

Iron Rations Home
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Iron Rations Part VI

Devon was impressed. Abel's fighting ability had improved a great deal since Apris came into his life. Perhaps it was a boost in morale, or simply the fact that Abel was using his shield to block blows instead of his face. Whatever the reason for Abel's newfound prowess, Devon was glad. It was getting terribly sad to see Abel savaged every time he entered battle.

     Apris the Wondrous, the party's newest member, was quite fond of Abel. She tended to his wounds and marveled at his strong muscles. All of this annoyed Aithne to no end. Aithne, a caustic elven woman from Far Isle, found humans to be irritating in the extreme.

     As she once explained to Devon, "Let us remember that we venture among the humans not out of choice, but out of necessity. We must learn their ways, no matter how base, in order to understand them completely. Their numbers increase every day, meaning that their settlements will soon encroach upon our lands. When that happens, there may be war."

     Even though Devon was also an elf, he often had no idea what the hell Aithne was talking about. Devon liked to travel with humans simply because they had a lust for life and a frantic way of living that fascinated him. It was a huge, amazing world and Devon wanted to know all of it. In the meantime, however, he was getting to know goblins.

     Moments ago, threatening rain clouds had finally released their load, dumping buckets of water upon the party. They sought shelter within an inviting cave, and judging by all the arrows flying at them, the cave also seemed inviting to a band of goblins.

     Abel stepped forward to draw attacks, while Devon, Aithne and Apris unleashed spells. Afterward, Devon and Aithne would fire some arrows of their own. Hopefully, Abel could hold out until then. Below is a description of the cave the adventurers wandered into. Feel free to use and/or modify it for your campaign. The goblins’ stats should be pretty easy to translate into almost any rpg system.

The Goblins’ Lair 
     A small band of goblins, who were on the losing side of a power struggle within their former tribe, have taken up residence in these caves. They survive by raiding hen houses and stealing livestock from local farmsteads.

a) Entrance 
     Six filthy humanoids sit around a fire, sharpening their knives and preparing a spit. The humanoids are about 3’ tall and have skin that is a pale, earthy color. Their red, beady eyes reflect the light of the fire. The creatures yammer to one another in their crude language, while passing a jug back and forth. There is a wide exit at the end of this chamber.

     Six goblins eat, rest and pass their time here. When the party enters, they are building a fire and sharpening their knives so that they can butcher the sheep from area c. if melee erupts, two goblins will fall back to fire arrows, while the other four engage in hand to hand combat. The goblins do not have a sentry so they may be surprised.

     If the invading party appears to be either more numerous and/or powerful looking, the goblins may be inclined to parlay. They will gesture that they do not wish to fight if the intruders simply leave.

Goblins (6): AC 6, Hit Dice 1-1, Hit Points 3, Move 20’, Attacks 1, Damage 1-6 short bow or 1-6 short sword, Morale 7.

b) Leader’s Mate 
     A goblin female, heavy with child, cowers in a corner. Near her is a filthy pile of rags she uses for a bed. Next to the rags, a large rat roasts on the coals within a brazier. There are two exits from this room, both of which appear to be narrow, natural staircases that descend deeper into the earth.

     The goblin isn’t much of a threat and will not enter battle, being more inclined to cower in a corner and hiss at the party. She will, however, scream an alarm to her mate in room d after the party enters the caves. If attacked, she will use a dagger hidden behind her back.

Goblin Female: AC 6, Hit Dice 1-1, Hit Points 3, Move 20’, Attacks 1, Damage 1-4 dagger, Morale 7.

c) Dinner 
     The bones of a large animal litter the floor. Its massive skull now serves as an anchor for a sheep that is tied to it. The sheep bleats in misery as it drags the skull around the room. The skeletal remains are those of a cave bear that succumbed to disease years ago. The sheep was stolen recently by the goblins during one of their raids. 

     There is nothing else of value in this room.

d) Leader’s Chamber 
     There’s little to be seen in this chamber besides a cot, some earthenware jugs and a brazier. A recessed space to the right of the entrance holds a crude shrine to some wicked goblin deity. The jugs are filled with wine stolen by the goblins on yet another one of their forays. A few are empty and in one of those will be found 20 sp and 90 cp. The altar consists of a roughly carved idol and some offerings, including a jug of wine, 1 gold coin and the severed head of what appears to be a young human male. 

     When not leading the other goblins on a raid, the leader will be found here. He passes the time drinking, sleeping or trying to coax his mate into coupling with him. She has been resistant to his advances of late, hence her sleeping in a separate room. Due to his 20’ move rate, it will take the goblin 3 rounds to reach area 1 if a fight erupts.

Goblin Leader: AC 6, Hit Dice 1-1, Hit Points 5, Move 20’, Attacks 1, Damage 1-6 short bow or 1-6 short sword, Morale 7.

Iron Rations Part V

 

Love found Abel Artone at the abandoned watchtower. The timing couldn’t have been better, given the abuse the human had endured at the hands of an ogre, and later, a surly dwarf. The young man was due for a change in his luck and it came in the form of a short, plump Magic User named Apris the Wondrous.

     Never an attentive student, Apris had been expelled from her master’s tower before completing her studies. Alone and with few prospects, Apris traveled to the Borderlands in the hope of finding employment. (Without a recommendation from her master, Apris would have a hard time finding work with established trade houses, or with a noble family.)

     En route, Apris became lost after wandering off the road during a heavy fog. After hours of stumbling about in the dark, she eventually arrived at a crumbling tower. Finding it empty, save for some moldering furniture on the second floor, Apris fell into a deep sleep. Early the next morning, Apris awoke to quite a clamor. From what she could tell, something was trying to make its way up the narrow, wooden stairs from the first floor.

     Terrified, Apris peered around the corner to find not one, but two, ravenous ogres trying to navigate the rickety flight of stairs. Fortunately, the decayed wood and narrow confines of the stairwell prevented the ogres from ascending. Nevertheless, Apris was scared out of her wits. She let fly with a Magic Missile, then promptly hid under the bed, quivering with fear.

     The two ogres, Willum and Bert, were intent upon devouring the young human. Apris’ scent was intoxicating and they just knew that her sizzling fat would taste delicious with fresh-baked biscuits. Unable to scale the stairs, the ogres simply decided to wait her out. Eventually the human would get hungry and would have to make an escape attempt. When that happened, the ogres would smash her skull and put her on a spit. Until then, the brothers took turns at guard duty. One would scout the nearby road, hoping to waylay a lone traveler, while the other watched the stairs.

     For her part, Apris waited until nightfall then tried to signal anyone within sight of the tower. She achieved this by casting Light upon a stone, holding it out the window of the tower, then opening and closing her hand to create a flashing beacon.

     After a few days of this, Abel, Devon and Aithne saw the signal and approached the tower to investigate. Within, the trio met and defeated the remaining ogre brother. (The party had slain the other prior to encountering Balnor the dwarf.) Liberated, Apris took an immediate liking to the brooding human. She saw limitless potential within Abel, although she cared little for the sneering Aithne and the scrawny Devon. As Apris and Abel fell deeply in lust, Devon could only look on in fascination and Aithne in disgust.

     “Uh, Aithne, why do Abel and Apris keep making that awful slurping sound?”

     “Because, Devon, they are humans and as everyone knows, a human can barely contain its urge to disrobe and rut in the middle of the road. Best look away before you have nightmares.”

     The accompanying tower map might prove useful in your own campaign. Below is Apris’ stat block. Perhaps we’ll see more of the trio (now a quartet) in future installments.

Apris the Wondrous, Level 2 Magic User; Alignment: Neutral, AC 10 (robes); Hit Dice 2 (d4); Hit Points 6; Attacks: dagger (1d4); Move: 120’;  Languages: Common, Elvish;  Abilities: Str 8 (-1 to hit and damage), Int 13 (1 additional language), Wis 9, Dex 10, Con 9, Ch 13 (+1 bonus to reactions); Spells: Light, Magic Missile; Special Abilities: Magic User spells; Possessions: Spellbook, 6 gp.

Iron Rations Part IV

After allowing poor Abel to recover from his fractured collar bone and bruised ribs, the trio set out to explore the abandoned tower. The dwarf prospector had spoken of strange, dancing lights that appeared around the ancient edifice after nightfall. Aithne was intrigued by the tale and hoped the dwarf’s words were true. Devon and Abel were skeptical, however.

     “You’d think that a creature so full of crap would be taller.”

     “I agree, Abel. Perhaps his being full of crap was the reason for his bad mood. That couldn’t be comfortable.”

     Aithne rolled her eyes. “You’re both idiots.”

     Walking quickly ahead, she exclaimed, “Look, we’ve arrived!”

     Pointing to the east, the decaying, squat watchtower could be seen.

     Abel scowled. “We’re supposed to go inside that dump? It’s barely standing!”

     Aithne addressed Abel in her usual, condescending tone. “No, dear Abel, we merely have to watch and see what happens after nightfall.”

     The trio sat down on the grass, wondering what sunset would bring.

Iron Rations Part III

Even though Devon Ashwood had studied the dwarven language, he’d never actually seen a dwarf until today. And judging by what he saw, he hoped to never see another.

     The squat demi-human had emerged from behind a boulder as Devon was binding Abel’s wounds and while Aithne searched the dead ogre. The dwarf immediately started screaming something about trespassers and claim jumpers. This angered Abel, who was always looking for a fight, no matter what condition he was in.

     The human fighter slowly got to his feet, then stepped forward, hand on the pommel of his sword.

     “Listen, runt, I don’t know what your damn problem is, but you need to shut the —.”

     A crushing blow from the dwarf’s hammer to Abel’s sternum ended the conversation rather abruptly. Abel dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, leaving Devon to wonder why all their fights began with the human incapacitated.

---

     Balnor of Forge Coinhammer has very little time, nor patience, for anything but gold. He views everyone as a threat to his prosperity and will meet any perceived slight with aggression. Currently, he is prospecting in a rocky area that features thick veins of quartz, which might also contain gold.

     He’s already had to contend with an errant ogre stomping about, so the last thing he needs are elves and a big-mouthed human. After his temper dies down, he will explain to the trio that they are trespassing and had best move along. He suggests that if they really want to see something interesting, they should explore the ruined tower to the northeast. At night, strange, colorful lights dance around the stones. Balnor would investigate the phenomenon for himself, but so far the lights haven’t interfered with his work.

Balnor, Level 3 Dwarf; Alignment: Neutral; AC: 7 (leather armor); Hit Dice: 3; Hit Points: 19; Attacks: war hammer (1d6+2); Move: 90’; Languages: Common, Dwarvish, Gnomish, Kobold, Goblin;  Abilities: Str 16 (+2 to hit and damage), Int 11, Wis 14 (+1 on magic-based saving throws), Dex 11, Con 15 (+1 hit points per die), Ch 8 (-1 adjustments to reactions); Special Abilities: Dwarf abilities;  Possessions: leather armor, war hammer, 10 gp, 20 sp.

Iron Rations Part II

Devon Ashwood stood motionless.

     Terrified.

     They had been tracking the ogre for two days and finally located him in some rocky hills. The creature had been waylaying travelers and a modest bounty had been posted. The coin was not as important as the thrill of the hunt, but now that the quarry was at hand, Devon was having second thoughts.

     The ogre towered above him, saliva dripping from a mouth full of rotten teeth. The filthy rags covering its body emanated a revolting stench that caused Devon’s eyes to water. Nearby, Abel lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious after sustaining a savage blow from the ogre’s club. Devon wondered if the human was dead. He certainly looked that way.

     “Aithne, help me! I can’t do this!”

     Aithne, looking rather amused at Devon’s plight, coached, “Do your best, young warrior. This is the type of danger and excitement you were looking for, correct?”

     “No!” screamed Devon. “HELP ME!”

     Aithne let out a deep sigh. “Very well. I will aid you, but you are in my debt.”

     Aithne stepped forward, a look of determination in her eyes, magical energy electrifying the air around her…

Iron Rations Part I

Devon Ashwood, Aithne of Far Isle and Abel Artone

During the summer of 1986 my friend Todd and I played a fair amount of Basic D&D, Tom Moldvay edition. I don't remember very many details from our sessions. I know that I played an elf, but his name eludes me. My DM used a wonderful supplement called "The Shady Dragon Inn" and from that product came my two adventuring companions.

     Aithne of Far Isle was an older, more competent elf. She was emotionally distant and held my brash character in contempt. Abel Artone was a surly, often brooding, warrior. What he lacked in martial ability, he made up in determination.

     I recall only vague memories from our solo campaign. This series, which I call "Iron Rations", is an attempt to construct a Basic D&D campaign using miniatures, fiction and maps. It is not a true account of my old adventures, but it could have been.

     Below are stat blocks for the three heroes.

Devon Ashwood, Level 1 Elf; Alignment: Lawful; AC: 5 (leather armor, -2 dex); Hit Dice: 1; Hit Points: 6; Attacks: short sword (1d6), short bow (+2 to hit, 1d6 damage); Move: 90’; Languages: Common, Elvish, Orcish, Hobgoblin, Gnoll, Gnomish; Abilities: Str 9, Int 14, Wis 12, Dex 16, Con 9, Ch 15; Spells: Charm Person; Special Abilities: +1 on initiative, +1 adjustment to reactions, elf abilities.

Aithne of Far Isle, Level 3 Elf; Alignment: Neutral;  AC 5 (leather armor, -2 dex); Hit Dice 3; Hit Points 12; Attacks: dagger (d4) short bow (+2 to hit, 1d6 damage); Move: 90’; Languages: Common, Elvish, Orcish, Hobgoblin, Gnoll, Gnomish, Dwarven; Abilities: Str 9, Int 16, Wis 15, Dex 16, Con 9, Ch 12, Spells: Sleep, Charm Person, Web; Special Abilities: +1 on initiative, +1 vs. magic-based saving throws, elf abilities.

Abel Artone, Fighter 1; Alignment: Neutral; AC: 4 (chain mail, shield); Hit Dice: 1; Hit Points: 10 (+2 from con); Attacks: long sword (+1 to hit, damage, 1d8+1); Move: 60’; Languages: Common; Abilities: Str 15, Int 9, Wis 9, Dex 10, Con 16, Cha 8; Special Abilities: +1 opening doors, -1 adjustment to reactions.