Meditations on Disappointment: INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL

I'm not going to review the film, that's already been done by Mr. Plinkett at Red Letter Media. He did a fantastic job discussing why the film fails to deliver, from its refusal to depict violence to the hair-brained script choices Lucas peer-pressured Spielberg into accepting. What I want to talk about is what I like about the movie.

See, there's actually a lot to like. I know this is hard to explain or understand, but somewhere in there is a really good movie that wanted to be made. However, what came out was a sort of fetal-alchohol-syndrome-cum-crack-baby-film, to use a really politically incorrect metaphor. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull had all the potential in the world but upon delivery what came out was horribly disfigured due to prenatal abuse by its parents. Nevertheless, you can still see the elements of a fantastic Indiana Jones movie in there somewhere.

This movie isn't like the Star Wars prequels, which just sucked. No, in some ways, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is worse because it actually had potential to be as good as its predecessors. By explaining what was actually good about the movie will illustrate what I mean.

1) 1950s: It seems Mr. Plinkett agrees with me about this--setting the film in the 50s was a great idea. Indiana is older and wiser, not as physically up-to-snuff. In my opinion, he should have made up for his age by being a bit more cunning. Although Plinkett disagrees, I think that having served as a spy for the Allies during World War II makes sense--it isn't too far-fetched that this adventuring World War I veteran would have found a way to be useful to the war effort. Indeed, this could have given him interesting and useful contacts and connections that he hadn't had before.

I have always liked the idea of seeing an older Indy since I first watched Young Indiana Jones and the Mystery of the Blues where the framing story involves Harrison Ford as Indy recounting how he learned to play the blues in Chicago in 1920. It indicated that the character still had fight in him, despite being middle-aged. However, that Indy was a far cry from the henpecked Indy in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I wanted to see more of that Indy.

2) McCarthyism: This some people thought was a heavy-handed politically driven soapbox vehicle for anti-right-wing sophistry to be injected into the film. I disagree. Check out Red Scare or Red Menace?, an interesting look into the era of McCarthyism. The existence of KGB-funded communist movements and subversive groups has become a very real part of historical study from that era, especially since a lot of stuff was declassified in Russia within the past twenty years. Yeah, the anti-communism rally was a bit over-the-top, but having Indy get sacked from his school and tailed by the FBI is great for plot development.

3) Mutt: Indy having a son isn't a bad idea. Maybe having Shia LeBouf play his son was, but I still like how he handled Mutt. Having Mutt be something of a hellraiser is also appropriate--he takes after his father. A rough-and-tumble greaser with a switchblade fits the 1950s well. Having him duel with a Soviet fencing champion, though, is ridiculous. Having him swing from vines is worse. Mutt started out great but ended up lame.

4) Aliens: Roswell. War of the Worlds. Area 51. Invasion of the Body Snatchers. The Day the Earth Stood Still. Forbidden Planet. This Island Earth. The 1950s and 1960s saw the height of science-fiction writing and film pushed further than ever before. Whereas the 1930s saw lots of pulp fiction featuring heroes modeled on Haggard's Alan Quartermain, with adventurers like Robert E. Howard's El Borak, the 1950s pulp was often about little green men from Mars. Having the Soviets chasing the secret of Roswell and Area 51 is actually a perfect idea for an Indy movie. It replaces the supernatural of the Grail, the Ark, and the Thuggi with the mysteries of conspiracy and alien artifacts. Handled well, it could have been awesome. Handled well... . It wasn't. That's the sad thing. I think aliens was a fantastic idea. But the aliens were revealed too soon and there was little or no mystery behind the entire thing. Consider--having the Soviets after some sort of alien technology isn't much different from having the Nazis chasing the Spear of Destiny, the Ark of the Covenant, or the Holy Grail. Having a set of ruins in the middle of nowhere turn into a flying saucer and disappear is over-the-top. Suspension of disbelief dissolves and the audience ends up feeling cheated.

5) Soviets: Yes, they're more morally ambiguous than the Nazis. At least, they were under Khruschev. Not under Stalin. Stalin was evil. Having a hardline Stalinist secret faction trying to get at alien tech to overthrow Khruschev and start World War III isn't so deeply complex for audiences to sit around going "huh?" especially after all the stuff they had to sit through about the Thuggi in Temple of Doom. Soviets and the KGB are great badguys. However, Spielberg (and Lucas) didn't establish these Soviets as villainous by having all of their killing take place off camera. If we watched the U.S. soldiers get graphically massacred at Area 51 in the opening sequence, our sense of violation and outrage would have provided enough dislike for there to be a good payoff when the badguys finally get their comeuppance.

All five of these elements are a recipe for a great (and slightly different, like Temple of Doom) kind of Indy film. It is risky, yes, but done right, it could have been awesome. That's why Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is such a disappointment. There's a good movie in there somewhere. It's just buried beneath bad decisions, poor plotting, and weak characterization.

Hungover Heroes Guild, Part Eight

A summary and cast of PCs can be found here, at the beginning of Session 6's AAR.

The PCs decided to take a reconnaissance job for the Twisted Tower. After negotiating the agreement with Thurbal, captain of the guard for the Tower of Ashaba, the PCs commissioned a few new sets of armor and weapons with some of their spoils from Daggerdale.

At midday, they arrived at the Twisted Tower the following day and were escorted through the tower dungeons (where they made offerings at the shrine for Sylune, the Lady of Shadowdale and fallen hero). They were escorted through a few doors and given a key and a parchment with the password to the next door.

They crossed an underground stream via a stone bridge. Baravis used his new spider walk invocation to guide PCs across the bridge. At the next door, they spoke the magic word to unbar the door and the parchment fizzled to ash. They opened the door, avoided a descending ceiling trap, and were attacked by two shaggy humanoid creatures with bastard swords. They dispatched them with ease, then plunged deeper into the dark tunnels.

They unraveled an illusory dead-end, found a secret door, and eventually made their way into a twisted series of water-carved tunnels when they heard the sound of voices approaching. When they heard in orcish "We'll find the dwarven wretch, then it's mealtime for everyone!" Baravis cried in dwarven "Over here you coward!"

Around a bend, a half-orc and five shaggy creatures (that looked like a cross between orcs and those things they had fought earlier) came round the bend and a tremendous fight ensued. The PCs made short work of three of the shaggy beasts when the rest retreated. A running fight ensued during which Sven was cut down, but Baravis healed him. (Sven always gets put below 0 hp in battle, the poor guy!) The session ended after the fight and will resume next time in the twisted tunnels.

Hungover Heroes Guild, Part Seven

A summary and cast of PCs can be found here, at the beginning of Session 6's AAR.

Our heroes thought they were safe at Eagles Eyrie, resting and preparing to set off southwards. However, a report from the dwarven lookouts from their concealed posts told of Zhentilar--not the standard town watch, but actual heavily armed and armored soldiers--approaching the Eyrie. They ran afoul of one of the dwarves' traps then withdrew.

A debate erupted in the Eyrie--should the dwarves leave their newly-liberated outpost to the Zhents or defend it to the death? A few blamed the PCs for leading the Zhents there, but Baravis' devilish charm convinced them that it wasn't their fault. The dwarves were convinced to depart and gathered up the bones of Elshar Kurl and Dorn the Grim. During their sojourn, the PCs learned the lore of the dwarves' flight from Eagles' Eyrie:

Sending their kinsfolk to the halls of their cousins in the Mines of Tethyamar, Elshar Kurl, the priest, and Dorn the Grim, the chieftain, remained behind to buy time for their clan, knowing that they would probably die. They kept up the appearance of an entire clan resisting Colderan forces and the rest of the clan escaped.

The two dwarves sought to destroy the upstart mage and his curse by forging a sword of cold iron. They made the blade of dark ironstar steel and chanted sorcery with every strike of the smith's hammer, but ultimately the blade failed them. Their bodies are only skeletons now, clothed in remnants of chain mail armor.

The bones were gathered up and were taken to be interred at Anathar's Dell in a temporary tomb until the Eyrie could be retaken. Baravis led the escape from the Eyrie. The dwarves set out south on the Tethyamar Trail, disguised as simple traveling tinkers. The PCs stuck to the countryside. After two days, they arrived at Castle Daggerdale, where they spent the night, where Sven fell ill with filth fever. The next two days were rough on the PCs as they struggled to keep away from Zhentilar patrols on the road and reach Anathar's Dell as Sven weakened. They made a litter that Drog dragged through the fields and meadows as they wandered south.

INTERLUDE
Eragyn, swathed in flowing black robes, stepped into the illuminated dome of Eagles' Eyrie. Constable Tren Noemfor followed sheepishly, clutching a few papers and trying to avoid the steely gaze of the priestess of Cyric.

A Zhentilar trooper stepped forward. "The forge has recently been in use, priestess. It is uncertain if our quarry was here, but someone was until very, very recently. The coals are still hot."

Eragyn grimaced and turned toward Constable Noemfor. "Their papers?"

"Copied and sent away, as you ordered." Eragyn stretched out a hand and he placed the parchment into her hands. She looked at them briefly.

"Sven Lackman of Waterdeep, passport. An identification paper from someplace called Sigil for a certain Baravis. And we know the one was a Zhent traitor named Vlad, from whose sentence you apparently allowed to escape." She thrust the papers at Noemfor. "Your superiors in Zhentil Keep will not be happy at your incompetence." She sneered. "You underestimated them. I will not make the same mistake. However, I know their weaknesses better than you."

She turned to a sergeant of the Zhentilar. "I want those adventurers found. Send a patrol down every road leading out of the Dale. Send scouting parties to every town and village from here to the Dagger River and beyond."

The sergeant swallowed thickly. "Beyond, priestess? Even the Dagger River vale isn't safe--Randal Morn's Freedom Riders are active and hold the allegiance of nearly every river settlement and the entirety of the Dale south of it!"

She shook her head. "I understand your concerns, but they must be found. I want them and I want Colderan. Find them both!" She turned back to Noemfor. "If they escape the Dale, it is no matter. Every agent and spy from here to Westgate will soon know of them and know of the bounty I've placed upon them. We'll have them soon enough." She smirked. "Or at least their ears."

BACK TO THE PCS
With the help of Baravis' Healing skill, Sven made a full recovery at Anathar's Dell. There, Baravis attempted to mend the breach between the Brightblade Clan and House Morn. An agent of the Freedom Riders met briefly with the PCs and took their concerns regarding an alliance between the two factions. He asked if the PCs knew anything about the whereabouts of the Sword of the Dales.

They departed, following the Tethyamar Trail to the crossroads with the Northride, where they spent the night with a patrol of Shadowdale guardsmen at the Shrine of Torm. Upon arriving in Shadowdale the next afternoon, they decided to investigate the mysterious trampling of fields in the northern village as well as question Lhaeo, Elminster's apprentice, regarding the whereabouts of the Sword of the Dales.

The PCs are at a crossroads--they can seek information on Finott, a wizard who disappeared before the Time of Troubles who was an expert on Shraevyn the Weapons-Mage (maker of the Sword of the Dales), or they can follow up on other adventuring opportunities in Shadowdale itself. We'll see what they decide to do this Friday.

The arms of Lord Mourngrym Amcathra
Lord of Shadowdale

Book Review--THE JEWEL IN THE SKULL by Michael Moorcock

EDIT: I'd like to thank Taran of One Last Sketch for the link to this most excellent review of The History of the Runestaff. Check it out. It addresses some of the reasons why I was so disappointed by this book--mainly Moorcock wrote it as a potboiler in the space of three days. Basically, he wrote it to pay the bills while the bulk of his time was spent on more serious projects. Apparently the 1990s omnibus editions were corrected of inconsistencies and such, but still remain very disappointing.

Anyway, on with the review... .

I'd like to start out with a few quotes:

Théoden King of the Mark had reached the road from the Gate to the River, and he turned towards the City that was now less than a mile distant. He slackened his speed a little, seeking new foes, and his knights came about him, and Dernhelm was with them. Ahead nearer the walls Elfhelm's men were among the siege-engines, hewing, slaying, driving their foes into the fire-pits. Well nigh all the northern half of the Pelennor was overrun, and there camps were blazing, orcs were flying towards the River like herds before the hunters; and the Rohirrim went hither and thither at their will. But they had not yet overthrown the siege, nor won the Gate. Many foes stood before it, and on the further half of the plain were other hosts still unfought. Southward beyond the road lay the main force of the Haradrim, and there their horsemen were gathered about the standard of their chieftain. And he looked out, and in the growing light he saw the banner of the king, and that it was far ahead of the battle with few men about it. Then he was filled with a red wrath and shouted aloud, and displaying his standard, black serpent upon scarlet, he came against the white horse and the green with a great press of men; and the drawing of the scimitars of the Southrons was like a glimmer of stars.

Then Théoden was aware of him, and would not wait for his onset, but crying to Snowmane he charged headlong to greet him. Great was the clash of their meeting. But the white fury of the North-men burned the hotter, and more skilled was their knighthood with long spears and bitter. Fewer were they but they clove through the Southrons like a fire-bolt in a forest. Right through the press drove Théoden Thengel's son, and his spear was shivered as he threw down their chieftain. Out swept his sword, and he spurred to the standard, hewed staff and bearer; and the black serpent foundered. Then all that was left unslain of their cavalry turned and fled far away. --J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

How about another quote?

And then, as the horde writhed and coiled upon itself, Amalric's lancers, having cut through a cordon of horsemen encountered in the outer valley, swept around the extremity of the western ridge and smote the host in a steel-tipped wedge, splitting it asunder. His attack carried all the dazing demoralization of a surprise on the rear. Thinking themselves flanked by a superior force and frenzied at the fear of being cut off from the desert, swarms of nomads broke and stampeded, working havoc in the ranks of their more steadfast comrades. These staggered and the horsemen rode through them. Up on the ridges the desert fighters wavered, and the hillmen fell on them with renewed fury, driving them down the slopes. --Robert E. Howard, "The Black Colossus"

And for comparison, this final quote:

From the remaining ranks of infantry, arrows flew thickly toward them and flame-lances sent searing fire. Count Brass' archers retaliated, and his flame-lancers also returned the attack. Arrows clattered on their armour. Several men fell. Others were struck down by the flame-lances. Through the chaos of fire and flying arrows, the infantry of Granbretan steadily advanced, in spite of depleted numbers. They paused when they came to the swampy ground, choked as it was with the bodies of their horses, and their officers furiously urged them on. --Michael Moorcock, The Jewel in the Skull

One can see a vast difference between the first two and the last quote, both in temperament and quality of prose. I would expect much more from the man who would later pen the essay "Epic Pooh," blasting Tolkien for the "sentimental, slightly distanced, often wistful, a trifle retrospective" prose that "contains little wit and much whimsy."

Tolkien's description of the Battle of Pelennor Fields and Howard's description of the battle at the Escarpment are both written extremely well. Tolkien's description eschews the sleepy quality that Moorcock describes as reminding him of A.A. Milne:

There is an element of conspiratorial persuasion in his tone that a suspicious child can detect early in life. Let's all be cosy, it seems to say (children's books are, after all, written by conservative adults anxious to maintain an unreal attitude to childhood); let's forget about our troubles and go to sleep. At which I would find myself stirring to a sitting position in my little bed and responding with uncivilized bad taste. --Michael Moorcock, "Epic Pooh"

True, Moorcock provides quotes to compare portions of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings to back up his argument. But Tolkien does not maintain a consistent voice throughout the novels. Indeed, he alters his voice depending on the circumstances and the Battle of Pelennor Fields reads more like Beowulf or The Iliad than Winnie-the-Pooh. Granted, Moorcock deals with these shifts and injects a good deal of politics into his assessment of Tolkien's supposed anti-industrialism and anti-democratic romanticism.

But this review isn't about "Epic Pooh." If you want to read a full rebuttal to Moorcock's essay, check out "Knocking Some Stuffing Out of Moorcock's 'Epic Pooh'" by Brian Murphy of the Silver Key. It's about The Jewel in the Skull and how I was profoundly disappointed by this book by the man who wrote "Epic Pooh."

Now, I've read Elric of Melniboné and remember enjoying it. However, I wasn't quite so profoundly moved or invigorated as I was by Tolkien's or Howard's prose. Indeed, the prose in The Jewel in the Skull is so weak that I had difficulty making it all the way through the book. I was profoundly disappointed by this work. Indeed, this book is weak in more than simply prose, but also in characterization and plot.

Firstly, let's discuss characterization. The main character, Dorian Hawkmoon, isn't introduced until fifty pages into the novel. This isn't bad in-and-of itself, however Moorcock fails to utilize it effectively by building a very compelling opening. Dorian could be easily played by Keanu Reeves as he's almost completely bereft of emotion for much of the middle of the novel. Granted, Moorcock was trying to use his strange emotionlessness as a vehicle, but he handles it so poorly that it fails completely. Our protagonist is absolutely unsympathetic and the reader is utterly incapable of identifying with him. Therefore, we don't really care if he lives, dies, wins, or loses.

The villains are cardboard cutouts, especially Baron Meliadus. The Dark Empire of Granbretan, which is uniting the continent of post-apocalyptic Europe, is evil... and engages in wanton slaughter and rapine of conquered territories... and that's about it. Oh, and it has an immortal god-emperor. Wow.

Moorcock establishes Baron Meliadus' villainy so clumsily that it comes off almost as a laughable parody of Robin Hood-type heels like the Sheriff of Nottingham. Of course he's going to try to abscond with the princess! Of course he's going to wound the aptly-named warrior-poet Bowgentle with villainous swordplay. Of course he's going to betray Count Brass' honorable hospitality. Of course he's going to swear vengeance and rant over every defeat like Skeletor, Cobra Commander, or Megatron.

Count Brass is likewise such an archetype of the honorable warrior-knight that he, also, becomes a laughable stereotype. Moorcock introduces him and develops his character but in so doing makes Count Brass so predictable and noble that he comes off as a flat caricature and not a character.

The plot is not much better, although it does have its moments. At least the opening sets the stage for the later conflict correctly enough. The Dark Empire wants the Kamarg--a portion of what used to be southern France--either with Count Brass' vassalage or through outright conquest. Count Brass, being honorable to a fault, refuses to become politically involved and thus cannot support Granbretan, although he feels that the unification of Europe under one banner and the ending of all the incessant warring (of which he's a renowned hero) would be a Good Thing, even if Granbretan is at the helm. This makes very little sense--he wants to see Europe unified, doesn't want to get involved, and yet is the ruler of a state that is a part of Europe and must eventually be incorporated into any unified whole. The entire time I'm reading, I feel that Count Brass is Lawful Stupid--noble and honorable at the expense of any real rationality. At least Ned Stark wasn't stupid--his honor and nobility got him a pretty rotten result, nevertheless.

Baron Meliadus, in comparison, behaves Retarded Evil. You'd think a Dark Empire ambassador would be much more subtle, but no, that would actually be interesting. Instead, Baron Meliadus tries to steal Count Brass' daughter and kill his best friends when Count Brass proves himself too stupid to live. He doesn't spend time scouting out the defenses or planting a spy network or finding ways to sabotage the forces of the Kamarg.

Enter Dorian Hawkmoon, a lord whose state was conquered by the Dark Empire of Granbretan and is now a prisoner. The defeat robbed him of his emotions and has left him a cold automaton who just doesn't give a damn. When Meliadus makes a deal with him ("sabotage the Kamarg and we'll give you your state back"), Dorian basically says, "meh."

Then comes the eponymous MacGuffin--a plot vehicle that is so weak and positively stupid that I nearly put the book in the trash. The black jewel implanted into Hawkwood's forehead is basically a magical camera that is connected to a machine in London that shows only what is in front of Dorian and provides no sound. The sorcerers of Granbretan assure Hawkwood that if he betrays them, the jewel will basically fry his brain. It's the tool they're going to use to blackmail him and ensure his loyalty. But it has immensely profound weaknesses. So, in the end, instead of Lawful Evil, the leaders of the Dark Empire of Granbretan has demonstrated how they, like their Baron Meliadus, are entirely Retarded Evil.

At least Count Brass and his friends aren't so stupid as to not see through Granbretan's ploy. They use their own technomagic to prevent the stone from frying Dorians brain, but it will only last a little while--the only place Dorian can go to get the jewel removed without killing him is somewhere out in Persia. But the armies of Granbretan are marching for the Kamarg. Now that Hawkmoon has met Count Brass' stereotypically hot daughter, he's starting to get his emotions back, but the presence of the jewel makes him feel hopeless enough that he refuses to allow himself to fall in love (although she has, predictably, fallen head-over-heels for him).

By this point, I want to bang my head against a wall.

The rest of the story consists of a couple of rather better chapters describing guerrilla raids on the Granbretan forces and a decent set-piece battle before descending into Hawkmoon's journey toward Persia, his gaining of a companion, and a very uninspired arrival in a Persian kingdom and his participation in a battle. I say "descend" because the rest of the book is just as uninspired as the beginning.

The problems with the plot are not the actual contents but in how they are handled by Moorcock. Coupled with his lackluster prose (which I will address below), Moorcock's storytelling is simply lacking. Other authors have written equally derivative works but did so with style and/or panache that Moorcock, as of 1967, did not seem to possess. Every opportunity he had to make the story more interesting he did not seize. As a result, the book reads like a dull attempt at parody. If parody it was, then Moorcock failed at this as well because there is no wit whatsoever in his writing. There are no moments where we realize that he's presenting these events to us tongue-in-cheek. It simply plays out dully, uninspired.

The prose simply serves to drive this point home:

Sparks scattered into the darkness of the hall as the two big men dueled, the broadswords rising and falling, swinging this way and that, every stroke parried with masterly skill. Sweat covered both faces as the swords swung; both chests heaved with the exertion as they fenced back and forth across the hall.

George Orwell said it best when comparing pulp boxing stories by British authors to those of American authors in "Boys' Weeklies:"

Notice how much more knowledgeable the American extracts sound. They are written for devotees of the prize-ring, the others are not.

An honest comparison of this to any combat scene by Robert E. Howard demonstrates this. The American writer wants the reader to experience the combat. I could also compare it to Zelazny's description of combat, which benefits heavily from his excessive knowledge of fencing. Moorcock's description is vague and frankly blasé. Obviously, Moorcock doesn't know anything about sword-fighting, but he doesn't even attempt to guess. Tolkien's description of combat is much more energetic for all his dreamy let's-all-go-to-sleep prose.

Moorcock also is guilty of the tell-not-show sin.

A conflict was beginning to develop in Hawkmoon's breast--perhaps a conflict between humanity and the lack of it, perhaps a conflict between conscience and the lack of conscience, if such conflicts were possible.

If such conflicts were possible? You tell us, you're the author! This is just clumsy writing, but it continues.

Whatever the exact nature of the conflict, there was no doubt that Hawkmoon's character was changing for a second time. It was not the character he had had on the battlefield at Köln, nor the strange apathetic mood into which he had fallen since the battle, but a new character altogether, as if Hawkmoon were being born again in a thoroughly different mold.

One of the advantages of writing a novel is the author can actually develop these changes through showing how the character behaves and actually describing a bit of their thought processes and feelings. George R.R. Martin does this very well with many of his characters, especially ones like Arya, Jon Snow, and Jaime Lannister. Moorcock is writing one of the very, very short SF novels that proliferated the discount bookracks of convenience stores (like my own antiquated DAW Books copy pictured below) and the like during the mid-twentieth century, so he has to deal with page limitations. However, I don't feel that is a legitimate excuse, especially since these problems are rife throughout the narrative and detract from the interest factor.

I could provide more examples of the disappointing writing, but I'll refrain. Suffice it to say, for the most part, The Jewel in the Skull reads like a rough draft or perhaps an extended summary of a story that could have really benefited from some greater detail and less derivative narration.

I don't know if I'm going to read any more of The History of the Runestaff, the four-volume series of which this novel was the first. Indeed, this makes me want to go back and reread Elric of Melniboné to see if it suffers from the same weaknesses in narration, characterization, and prose.

As I said, this book was a disappointment. I was very interested in reading it but when I finally did, it most certainly did not live up to expectations, especially considering the vocal criticisms its author leveled against other, noteworthy and accomplished, authors. There's a kernel of a good and exciting story here. However, in this volume at least, Moorcock doesn't deliver.

The Jewel in the Skull by Michael Moorcock Style: C
Substance: C-
Overall: C-

Hungerover Heroes Guild, Part Six

CAST OF CHARACTERS
Baravis: Played by Luke. A tiefling warlock 1/favored soul 1 from Sigil, he knew something strange was up when a few guys bearing pendants with a black sun and white skull tried to kill or kidnap him. One day, walking through the streets of Sigil, he did something to annoy the Scratcher who basically portaled him to Faerûn. He wandered through the forests until he found Drog encamped by a path. Resigned to his fate, he seeks an answer to why the Cyricists (whose symbol he's identified as theirs) want him dead. He's become a follower of Marthammor Duin, the Dwarven god of wanderers, with whom he's made a pact.

Drog: Played by DJ. A Rashemar barbarian 2 who is on his dajemma--his coming-of-age journey into the lands outside of Rashemen. A stalwart warrior of honor who has a way with the ladies (who admire his rugged looks and massive muscles).

Sven Lackman: Played by Shaun. A half-elven rogue 1/urban ranger 1 from Waterdeep whose parents were Harpers murdered by the Cult of the Dragon. He has devoted himself to Hoar, god of vengeance and swift justice. Sven is being a bit retooled by Shaun (with DM consent). Sven is a bit reckless and impatient, but is developing into a powerful finesse fighter.

Vlad: Played by Alex. Vlad's parents were Zhents who died during the Banedeath, when the priests of Cyric murdered (or forcibly converted) all followers of Bane in Zhentil Keep. Left for dead, a nameless god approached Vlad and made an agreement with him--Vlad would become a dread necromancer (see Heroes of Horror) so long as he kept the Pact. Vlad seeks for the truth of this unknown deity while swearing vengeance against Cyric and all of his followers.

THE STORY THUS FAR
The PCs met in Shadowdale, where they heard rumors of a Dream Fever in Dagger Falls, chief town in Daggerdale. Forty or fifty years past, the Zhentarim (a.k.a. the Black Network) ousted the rightful rulers of Daggerdale and backed a usurper, Malyk. Then, twenty years past, Randal Morn and the Knights of Myth Drannor slew Malyk and retook the Dale. Zhentilar forces then invaded and captured all of the Dale north of the Dagger River. Randal Morn leads his Freedom Riders and only controls part of the Dale, while the Zhentarim controls Dagger Falls and the Zhentilar (the army of Zhentil Keep) extorts or raids villages between the Tesh and Dagger rivers.

They set off, encountering the Brightblade dwarven clan at Anathar's Dell and learning that two hundred years past, Colderan Morn, Lord of Daggerdale, exiled them from their home in Eagle's Eyrie, overlooking Dagger Falls. They encountered a patrol of Freedom Riders, who took them to Randal Morn. They were tried for being suspected Zhentarim (Vlad's accent gave him away as a Zhent), but Tunfer the Stout's zone of truth spell exonerated them. With Randal Morn's favor, they arrived at Dagger Falls and cleared out the Eagle's Eyrie.

They made contact with Loudon the Cooper, a supporter of Randal Morn, at the Red Rock tavern, but were captured later at the Teshford Arms inn resisting a summons by the Constable. Sven's attempted knifing of a mercenary in the Constable's employ and Vlad's spellslinging got them booted from town without their gear and Vlad slated for a caravan back to Zhentil Keep. But all was not lost--the Brightblade dwarves, on a pilgrimage to the Eyrie disguised as traveling tinkers, discovered the PCs had cleared it out and began to restore it in secret, giving the PCs a base of operations. They staged a daring rescue on Vlad's caravan, then snuck into town, headed for the ruined Temple of Lathander, having learned that all the troubles with the Dream Fever and the strange wood-woses (mysterious dwarf-sized night stalkers) had begun shortly after Eragyn the Dark, priestess of Cyric, had disappeared in the Temple crypts.

The PCs battled several wood-woses and a juvenile hook horror, befriended a nixie, and even met Colderan Morn himself--not 200-years dead as they had once suspected.

Session Six
The PCs made their way to Colderan's headquarters, centered around his crypt, and a great battle ensued. Colderan was ready for them--4 skeletons attacked as they entered the anteroom. Colderan created a wall of thorns and ordered his remaining wood-woses to gather his things and help him escape. The PCs managed to kill most of the wood-woses, but during the battle (which was fought in several rooms and corridors) Colderan escaped, trapping Sven in another wall of thorns and nearly killing him (negative hit points). Baravis stabilized him with a cure minor wounds orison, Drog hacked him out of the thorns, and the PCs discovered eight sleepers, several corpses, a strange net, a treasury, and Colderan's library and notes. After reading through his notes, the PCs destroyed the net of dreams (the cause of the fever) and the sleepers began to awake. Among them was Eragyn the Dark and a Zhent guardsman. Eragyn had been bound and gagged, but Baravis and Vlad disagreed on what to do with her. Vlad wanted to kill her outright--she was evil and served and evil god. Baravis wanted her to stand trial for her wickedness. They quarreled and Drog broke it up. Baravis tried to talk with her, but gave up all attempts at diplomacy when Vlad vocally advocated killing her outright. Eragyn saw the PCs as traitors, especially considering they were still wearing the Zhentilar tabards with the arms of the occupying forces.
They followed a passageway to a wall of masonry. A dwarf victim of the Dream Fever, Boront, found a secret door into a room full of confiscated contraband--including the confiscated masterwork studded leather Baravis had commissioned, Sven's masterwork dagger, and Drog's masterwork greatsword. Franter, the Zhent guard, exclaimed that the secret door led into one of the basements of the Constable's Tower! Baravis, hoping to make peace with the Constable (at least, for now) sent Franter up to the Constable. The plan backfired. Zhentilar troops opened the trapdoor with crossbows trained on the PCs. Eragyn was freed by the troops and the PCs fled through the secret door. They closed it, hoping the Zhentilar wouldn't locate the opening mechanisms. Just to be sure, Drog jammed a sword into the doorjam to block it.

The situation looked hopeless. The Zhentilar would be waiting at the temple entrance for the PCs. So, they decided to escape via the underground river.

Led by Boront (to whom Drog had given a longsword), the townsfolk fled through the tunnels and out of the temple, while Drog, Vlad, Baravis, and Sven (whom Baravis had healed with cure light wounds to demonstrate the power of a benevolent deity to Eragyn) managed to escape the tunnels via the stream. When I revealed (using Maptool) that the stream had spilled them out at the waterfall, the players cheered in triumph. Yet another seemingly hopeless situation turned into a victory by the PCs.

Colderan had escaped. Eragyn was attempting to seize control of Dagger Falls from Constable Tren Noemfor. However, the Dream Fever had been ended and the townspeople were safe from the depredations of the wood-woses. Colderan's plans to take over the town were foiled, as were any hopes of him allying with (or being backed by) the Zhentarim. The PCs had made some enemies, but as they rested the rest of the day in the Eagle's Eyrie, they knew that they had succeeded at something worthwhile. Now, they had to contact Loudon the Cooper for their reward, try to find Randal Morn to warn him of Colderan, his thrice-great grandfather, and return the holy relics of Lathander that they had discovered to the Temple of Lathander in Shadowdale. Baravis leveled up (now a 3rd-level character). However, Sven may have contracted filth fever from the swarm Colderan had summoned beneath him. The path ahead is murky yet filled with possibilities.

Arms of the Zhentilar
Army of Zhentil Keep

Hungover Heroes Guild, Part Five

Well, the current adventure (in case you're wondering, I'm running, or trying to run, the Doom of Daggerdale adventure, which you can peruse in order to see just how far the PCs have deviated from the adventure) is drawing to a close. Our heroes have finally made it into the catacombs beneath the Temple of Lathander, seeking out the Priestess of Cyric, Eragyn, hoping to put an end to her and with her, the Dream Fever that's been plaguing the folk of the Dale.

We had to split this session into two short ones because of Alex's (Vlad's player) work schedule.

Session One
Having successfully rescued Vlad, the PCs and their dwarven allies flee into the forest as an Zhentilar patrol heads toward the scene of the combat. They'd seen the ambush from the parapets atop the River Gate in Dagger Falls and sent reinforcements to see if they could save the caravan. They arrived moments too late.

The PCs and their allies fled into the forest, but Baravis managed to sneak back to spy. He managed to hear that the patrol misidentified the tracks (their scout rolled a 1) and thought that goblins had attacked the caravan. Once they realized the caravan wagons had managed to escape, they returned to Dagger Falls. Sighing with relief, the PCs and dwarves walked two more miles downstream and fashioned a raft to cross the River Tesh. They returned to the Eagle's Eyrie by nightfall.

That evening, Baravis received a vision from Marthammor Duin, the dwarven god of wandering, living aboveground, and friendship with non-dwarves. Baravis pledged to aid and protect dwarves wherever they may be and to serve Marthammor Duin faithfully. He awoke with a level of Favored Soul (see Complete Divine) and immediately cast cure light wounds on any dwarves injured during the caravan fight. He then tended to his party members.

The dwarves were impressed by this. Kuldar, the chief of the dwarves, gave Baravis a copy of their holy texts to guide and shape his newfound faith. It was like roleplaying the birth of an apostle or saint of some sort. The Brightblade dwarves finished the chitin armor for Drog (DJ's Rashemar 2nd-level barbarian) as a gift for the PC's clearing of the Eyrie and returning it to the Brightblade clan. However, they feared for the safety and secrecy of their new outpost so they wished for no further risks, what with the Zhentarim so near in Dagger Falls.

After a few days of spying on Dagger Falls from the Eyrie, the PCs planned to infiltrate the town and sneak into the Temple at night. As they approached the Teshford Arms, they saw two off-duty Zhentilar ambushed and killed by the strange, short night creatures. When the creatures began to drag the bodies toward the woods, the PCs ambushed and killed them. They discovered that the creatures bled sap, and that sap was also coating the copper spearheads the creatures wielded. Baravis realized that it was a poison. Drog took two of the spears for future use. Vlad and Baravis donned the tabards and chain mail of the fallen Zhentilar and hid the bodies in the woods. Then, everyone snuck across the river. Drog and Sven took a long, circuitous route through outlying fields to avoid any Zhentilar in the town beyond the walls; they witnessed two more of those creatures sneaking into a house. Sven advised inaction: "We can't save them, we have to stick to the plan." They watched from the distance as the two creatures exited through the window of the cottage with a shimmering net or web. They then vanished into the night. Drog and Sven met up with Vlad and Baravis near the Forest Gate of the town. Using their disguises and Vlad's native Zhent accent, they convinced the two gate guards that they were their relief. Happy to go and drink, the Zhentilar left, allowing Baravis to open the portcullis enough for Drog and Sven to crawl under.

They snuck through the town, sticking close to the town wall, then saw the two night creatures climb into the ruins of the Temple of Lathander ahead of them. The PCs followed, sneaking past the guards stationed at the temple and going down into the darkness.

Session Two
They descended the stairs in the ruin, avoided fighting two osquips (territorial rodent-creatures) in the wine cellar and crept through the catacombs beneath the temple. There they discovered a secret door leading to a room containing the holy items of Lathander's temple--silver censers, golden candlesticks, and a holy symbol. They agreed to return these to the temple and prayed to Lathander before they took the objects.

They found a hole in one crypt that led to tunnels. They followed the twisting path until they encountered a young (medium-sized and not-so-powerful) hook horror. Despite its size, it still gave the PCs a good pounding, but luckily Baravis could heal. However, the noise of the fight drew some of the night-creature scouts. Soon, a battle ensued, and the PCs had slain five of the creatures, with Drog and Sven managing to avoid the effects of their poison blades. Baravis took the head of one as evidence in case they encountered the Constable on their way out.

They eventually found a small pool in a cavern. Baravis threw the head into the pool, wanting to make certain there wasn't an evil creature there. The head flew out and Baravis was harshly reprimanded by the fairy spirit of the pool, a nixie named Mara. Casting purify food and drink on the pool as a penance, Baravis gained her good graces. Drog, familiar with the worship of nature spirits and things fairy, charmed the nixie with conversation. Indeed, DJ admitted his character wanted to sleep with Mara, but I told him he's lucky because she could have charmed him and he could have ended up living with her for a hundred years or until she got bored of him.

Anyway, Mara told them about the night-creatures (she called them wood-woses) and said they were the most unseelie of things. Ever since the evil priestess came down into the catacombs, things have been going bad, but the wood-woses avoid Mara's pool.

Judging that it was safe, the PCs decided to rest here. Around the end of the eighth hour, though, a wall of thorns blocked off both exits from Mara's cave. A booming voice demanded, "Who are you and why are you here?"

The PCs identified themselves and their quest. "I am Colderan Morn, Colderan the Razor, Mage-Lord of Daggerdale, Conjuror of the Dark Wood. You have entered my house and slain my servitors!"

"We only seek to help. Your people are suffering because of the Dream Fever and your servitors."

"It is unfortunate, but necessary. I will tell you this once, leave or perish." The PCs protested. The voice repeated, "You will leave my house or you will die here!"

Then... across the table from me, Shaun said it. And everybody just stared at him with dropped jaws. "F--- off!"

Whomever it was wasted no time, immediately casting summon swarm. A boiling surge of rats erupted beneath Sven's feet. Baravis pleaded (successfully) for the caster to stop (which he did, although the spell's duration is concentration +2 rounds). The swarm dispersed eventually, leaving Sven with 0 hp and possibly filth fever. When Baravis mentioned the Brightblade dwarves, the caster's voice grew accusatory.

"You are allied with the dwarves! Treacherous thieves and murderers! They slew my beloved Bellessaria! I will have no truck with their allies!" With that, the voice was gone.

The PCs used one of the vials of alchemist's fire to destroy one of the walls of thorns. They came to an abandoned circle of poisonous mushrooms (destroying 13 of which looked like wood-woses in fetal form), found a passage that descended toward a river, and eventually came to another wall of thorns that blocked further passage. The PCs hacked their way through the wall and came to a locked door with a guardian watchdog. Sven (who had been healed back up to half his hp) befriended the dog with wild empathy (he's now a 1st-level rogue, 1st-level urban ranger). Without thieves tools (they'd been confiscated in Part Four), they couldn't pick the lock, so Drog spent four rounds noisily chopping the door down. They entered a small antechamber with arrowslits and another door. Upon opening the second door, Baravis (who had gone ahead) found himself met with four skeletons.

And that's where we stopped. Play resumes tomorrow night where we will use Maptool on our laptops at the table instead of miniatures. Most play will use pen-and-paper, though. Maptool is simply to help us navigate through the logistics and movement aspects of gaming more quickly than miniatures, but I must admit, it takes a lot longer to set up and prepare adventures and campaigns (at least, at the level of detail I prefer). It has the potential to speed up games quite a bit, and allows for online gaming, but unfortunately, it takes a LOT of prep time.

What's Wrong with 4th Edition, Interlude

This article came to my attention, recently, about modern RPGs on the console or computer being too easy.

Keynote section:

His comments echo a popular sentiment amongst core-gamers. That in an attempt to appeal to a wider audience, games are abandoning any semblance of challenge and, quite frequently, treating players like brain-dead automatons.

Wow. Pretty much backs up what I said in my last post, doesn't it? I mean, 4th edition... treating players like brain-dead automatons. This actually jives with criticisms regarding how 4th edition reads like the designers think the reader is an idiot.