Background

I ran an OD&D one-shot at the local gaming club for a group of players that were willing to give older ruleset a try. Three players rolled two characters, and one player rolled three.

Character creation took around 30 minutes, and the game session took around three hours. We played legendary Caverns of Thracia. Everybody quickly picked-up the rules and the game flowed smoothly.

See end of the post for more on preparation.

Adventurers

In alphabetic order:

Character	Class	Alignment
Andre the Pious	Fighting-Man	Lawful
Bojan Bakrovic	Fighting-Dwarf	Neutral
Catalina	Magic-User	Chaotic
Clarisa	Cleric	Lawful
Keith	Cleric	Lawful
Lindon	Cleric	Lawful
Serene	Fighting-Elf	Neutral
Wilhelm Popovic	Cleric	Lawful
Xander	Magic-User	Neutral

One sunny day in the Barbarian Altanis

Adventuring party of nine finally found the fabled Lost City of Thracia. For the past day they've been trawling through lizard-men infested swamp. Most trawled waist-deep; Bojan had to do so at nipple-height.

The party approached the ruins from the west side, exiting the swamp southwards. Carefully inspecting the closest ruined building revealed little of interest. The largest building, what once used to be a temple, dominated the vista. Alas, it had no visible egresses sans the breakage in the walls caused by overgrowth.

Lindon, secured with rope and held steadfast by Wilhelm and Bojan, approached a dilapidated well and peered down. A lone torch burned at the bottom of the deep hole. The dwarf estimated the depth to be between 60 and 100 feet.

Scuttling alongside the temple wall, adventurers proceeded north, investigating their surrounding. Andre the Pious, or the Tenfoot Pole Bearer, led the way tapping and checking for traps. He was asked to inspect the largest crack in the wall, which he was happy to do.

Climbing up the tree trunk allowed him to peek into the ruined temple. Lo and behold, a staircase leading into darkness was visible. Just like four hyena-headed humanoids. Andre dropped back, and the party formed battle ranks by the fissure.

Two gnolls emerged and clashed against the front rank. One of the hairy beasts swung its mighty battle axe, landing it straight between Keith's ears. His head burst like an overripe watermelon. Clarisa the Cleric soon suffered a similar grisly fate.

Bojan and Lindon revenged them in quick succession, murdering two gnolls. A brief exchange of blows ensued with the surviving gnolls, which soon gave up and fled, leaving a bloody trail leading down the stairs.

“Chase them!”

“Wait! My mule!”

Catalina stayed behind, trying to get the mule to climb the tree trunk and enter the ruined temple. Others gave chase and followed the gnolls underground.

Lighting a lantern revealed a large chamber filled with rubble and debrief. Everything was caked with faeces of varying dryness. Blood trail led east. Up north were large double doors, ajar. To the west was a dead end, and to the east a corridor. Looking up, the dwarf spotted hundreds of bats—source of brown material coating the floor, no doubt.

“Let's slow down.”

Adventurers continued their pursuit, albeit now proceeding carefully, tapping the ground with the ten foot pole. A turn, and a turn, and then another turn, and then yet another! But this time, there were closed doors, and blood led to them.

“I have a plan.” Bojan announced whilst taking out his trust iron pitons. Then he knelt by the doors and begun hammering them in, one by one.

Andre watched guard over the north corridor. Alas, he was taken by surprisingly ferocious charge of four gnolls lead by a squat man with doberman head. Wilhelm reinforced the fighter, checking the beastmens' charge. Alas, that spelled doom for the cleric and soon he was nothing but bloody mess.

“Look how pathetic they are! Capture them all!” dog-man barked at the gnolls. One of the adventures understood him, and promptly conveyed the message to others.

Partially spiked doors were constantly banged on; as if something or someone is trying to force the open. Adventurers kept hammering in pitons, preventing the doors from being forced open.

Focusing the efforts on the dog-man soon produced results. The beast was a great swordsman, but it could not withstand adventurers' superior skills. Andre's blow forced the monster to the ground. Bojan ensured it dies an agonising death by brutally severing one of its limbs.

At this moment the party obviously had an upper hand. They rallied and pressed on against four gnolls, slaying two. Remaining two fled down the long corridor. Lindon beheaded the dog-man's corpse and left it in front of the spiked door. Just so beastmen know who they are dealing with.

Once again the party gave chase, but soon gave up after running down several hundred feet long corridor slopping downwards.

“Let's go back and check the double doors?”

“Sounds good.”

Spiked doors were still jammed shut; the captives were still banging to get out.

Passing through the double doors revealed a thirty feet wide, long corridor. Two lines of columns ran along, derelict but still structural sound. Andre ran up to fetch Catalina. The rest pushed on, finding a fissure in the corridor.

Bojan took a look; it was deep, but too scraggy for anything human to climb up. Further north was a pile of rubble flanked by two doors. Left were shut, right were slightly ajar.

Serene took a look.

Two yellowish reptilian eyes looked back at her.

The doors swung open.

Two naked lizardmen with clubs greeted the party.

Behind them was another lizardman tending to a wounded one on the ground.

The elf was knocked unconscious in a single blow.

The lizards grabbed her body and begun to drag her into the chamber. Andre tried to shut the doors, but left that and tried to wrestle Serene's body instead. Alas, lizardmen were stronger.

“Onwards!”

Party forced their way into the room and total chaos ensued.

Bojan was brutally mauled. He collapsed to the ground, with severe headache. The only thing that saved his life was his amazing greathelm. With last ounces of strength he crawled to his crossbow and fired it.

He missed.

Xander the Magic-User suffered traumatic brain injury, courtesy of yet another club wielding lizardman. He lied prostrate.

Andre the Pious delivered the killing blow to the biggest of four lizardmen. But there was no celebration to be had. Catalina gasped as spear was driven through her abdomen. She collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

“Get out! Run!”

Andre yelled at Lindon.

Cleric nodded, and withdrew from the chamber.

Andre took lit a torch.

Then he smashed an oil flask upon the backpack of his fallen comrade.

He knew damn well that backpack was full of flammable flasks.

And then he hit it, hard, with a burning torch.

Lindon could see a ball of fire blowing out of the chamber.

Silence and smell of burn flesh followed.

Turning around, the cleric opened the west doors.

An abandoned chapel.

A long ruined statue of unknown god.

Lindon said a silent prayer.

And then he got the fuck out of the dungeon.

Preparation notes

I decided to used just the little brown books since they have less rules. Since I didn't want to be the bottle neck (e.g. have players wait for me while I'm explaining something to another player), I prepared a series of player facing reference sheets:

• one for each class (Fighting-Man, Magic-User, Cleric)
• one-page for races
• equipment
• character creation steps
• ability score summary
• character sheets

I also printed original reference sheets for myself:

Player sheets were well used during the game, and everyone was able to quickly make several characters. I did not used Judge facing reference sheets, since I apparently remember more rules than I was aware of.

For The Caverns of Thracia I (1) prerolled four encounters for first two levels, (2) prerolled % if someone is somewhere for ground and first level, and (3) wrote down 20 rumours on pieces of paper to hand out.

I also noted vertical connection on my maps. There was no need extensively prepare, since the party can't delve too deep in one three hour session anyway. I did reduce monster hit points, though, since they were obviously rolled with Supplement I and variable HD. So I reduced everything to uniform d6 HD.

That was it, an hour or so of prep.

Final words

The session was enjoyable, and players did great for their first foray into Thracia. Great future awaits Lindon, no doubts about that.

#Wilderlands #OneShot #SessionReport

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Session judged by myself, report written by Sleazy B, player who controled Serga in this session. He usually plays Eccy Throi in the Conquering the Barbarian Altanis campaign.

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The Party

• Serga Ulmus, a half-orc cleric on a mission to retrieve his forefathers relic which will allow him to rule orc clans.
• Gobanneu, a goblin bodyguard in the service of Serga.
• Uglamm the Wretched, a foul warlock wearing black cloak and a goat horned circlet..
• Mavious Blarv, Uglamm's apprentice.

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HEAR THIS, the age of Serga is upon us! I, Uglamm the Wretched, have been tasked with the glorious honor of chronicling his tale.

It was the retrieval of Alkarg, the Elf-Destroyer, that brought this age to ripeness. I was honored to be among those tasked with delving into the lost citadel of Alhurmus, the bastion of his revered ancestor Mondru IV (may Gruumsh glorify his name!), and there to combat the many traps and deadly beasts. Yet it was through Serga’s strength that we were victorious!

Be it remembered that the numerous clever traps of Mondru’s fortress felled brave orcs who gave their life for Serga! And it was their blood that stoked the fire of Serga’s resolve. The halls of the fortress were lined with statues of the honored dead, and trophies torn bloodily from the hands of slaughtered elf-kind. And each of them seemed to bow and cheer “Serga!” as he passed. Enshrined among the great halls were heroes of old, and their treasures, and they too looked upon their descendant with admiration and respect. For Serga is the chosen of Gruumsh!

Let the name of the vile lycanthrope who defiled those hallowed halls be forgotten, only the glory of Serga remains. Through violence and treachery, many of Serga’s servants were slain. So it was that only his brother Baktar, and his servants Durz and Nogurgh survived to accompany Serga to the lowest level of the fortress, where resided the Bane of Elves. How beautiful were those lower halls which glorified Gruumsh! And yet, even here, the brilliance of Mondru’s defenses cost incautious Durz his life. There were many riddles there, engraved upon black iron gates. And yet, for one as clever in words as Serga there was nothing hidden! For he was wise in the written form. Cautiously did he, his brother, and his servant enter to that final chamber. And yet seeing the prize in front of him, the Elf-Destroyer, Serga strode forward bravely. And the honored dead that lined the hall there were glad to see him, and they proferred to him the spear itself which he had sought.

The three heroes rose victorious through the labyrinth to where they had entered into the fortress, and where awaited Serga and Baktar’s father Thaagwa, who had taught Serga the ways of Gruumsh, and his retinue of brave Orcs. Yet when they entered into the plain air they discovered treachery! A band of men, led by hateful elves, had put to the sword Serga’s faithful followers, and even his father (though his father lived just long enough to see his son emerge).

Seeing this evil before him, and the blood spilled by those that would oppose him, there rose in Serga a righteous fury. And he strode into the field, glowing a brilliant red, a sign of his hatred for the treacherous elves! There he did battle with those villains, I saw it with my own eyes! He slew them to the last one. And though Baktra and Nogurgh could not withstand the hateful violence of the elves, Serga emerged, all drenched in the blood of his enemies. Let it be known! All who oppose the chosen of Gruumsh will find only destruction.

#Wilderlands #OneShot #SessionReport

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Session judged and report written by Moss Knight, the player of legendary Brother Kallahan from Conquering the Barbarian Altanis.

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The Party

• Fra 'Fingers' Vincensini, a nimble and resourceful cleric.
• Elmenor Goldlight, a quite rich and noble looking elf clad in heavy armor.
• Grudge, a weedy-looking thief, no doubt full of mischief.
• Marco Tuti, a more-brawn-than-brain fighter with bravery and blood alcohol to spare.

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There stood our brave upstarts, in the middle of the starry night, under the canopy of the enormous tree. Everyone around here knew to stay away from the great Oak and the surrounding glade, where time seems to stand still; but not our merry band. They were out for riches and adventure and surely, they thought, here they would find at least one of these.

Examining the vast network of roots at its foot, being almost as wide as the canopy itself, Fra quickly found a three-foot wide opening into the earth. Looking into it with a torch, they noticed a twenty-foot drop down to a sandy floor, with rough and wet roots serving as the natural rungs of a ladder, along the sides of the pit. Descending with the help of a quickly attached rope, they started examining the ensuing corridor, Elmenor scouting ahead with his infravision. The corridor came to a fork, with one branch going north, from which a distant rushing sound came, as of wind or water; the other going east, from whence came a faint green glow. After finding a mysterious leather glove, abandoned on top of some large root, the party decided to head east.

The eastern corridor appeared to be partially blocked by roots, which Elmenor passed successfully, though not before the roots animated, attempting to grab and restrain him. The rest of the party soon followed, uneventfully as well. Marco however, the last to pass through, got caught up in the roots, one of which made off with his wine skin! In a valiant effort, the fighter lunged forward, attempting to catch his beloved beverage with his teeth, but only managing to get a hold of the cork, which popped open. The wildly thrashing root escaped, leaving only a narrow tunnel in the wall, barely two fingers wide; spraying delicious, delicious wine everywhere in the process.

Cursing the roots and their wicked gods for the tragic loss of his mama’s favorite vintage, Marco rejoined the party, which now found itself standing in a strange round room. The atmosphere here was damp and warm. All over the walls and ceiling of this dome-shaped earthen space were root-faces, here of wrinkly old men, there of dashing youths, all clad in hair and beards made of glowing green moss.

“Look at what you’ve done!” screamed Marco. “That was mama’s best vintage!”.

In unison, the roots answered in a low, meandering grumble:

“We thank you… It was delicious... We do not get to enjoy wine… often…”.

“Well”, replied the fighter, “What have you got to give in return?”

“We will gladly provide… Information… If you feed us more…Delicious things…”

At this, Fra the cleric placed some of his rations on the ground, which were quickly grabbed by some roots, dragging the food into the earthen walls. After a second of silence, followed by a low, thoughtful grumble, the root-voice answered:

“The horned ogre…. owns a treasure… whose value he doesn’t… understand.”

The party had indeed heard of a strange creature fitting this description inhabiting this dark place. Intrigued, they looked for more things to give the root-faces. They found only oil, inquiring aloud:

“Well, I don’t suppose it drinks oil…”

“...Oil?” Replied the root-voice. “We… enjoy… oil.”

Confused but undeterred, they poured the contents of one of their flasks onto the earth, the liquid being lapped up quickly.

“Hmmmmmm… good… good…” said the root-voice.

After a short silence, and yet another thoughtful hum, it continued:

“Beware… the treachery… of the gnomes…”

Still angry at the root-thing, Marco threatened to feed it a brandished iron piton, at which point several of the faces disappeared into the walls. Diplomacy was maintained by the rest of the group, who decided to make their way into the eastward tunnel, from which came a cold draft of air, and a smell of ammonia.

Scouting ahead once more, Elmenor quickly found the source of the smell: The tunnel expanding in this direction was in fact a cavern, on the ceiling of which nested what looked like a hundred bats. Understandably, the floor underneath them was covered in stinking guano. Though the cavern continued to expand eastward, the party decided to head north, into a newly discovered tunnel, to avoid the bats.

The floor, walls and ceiling of this tunnel were of stone blocks, and the corridor led to a stone archway, sculpted in the fashion of a continuous, overarching pile of skulls. A skeleton wearing rusted chainmail was lying in a pool of dried blood, right under the archway. Poking at it with a ten-foot pole, and examining the surrounding walls, they discovered the mechanism triggering a deadly blade trap, no doubt the one which had sliced deep into the poor soul’s side, leading to their untimely demise. Once discovered, the pressure plate was easily overcome though, and the party hopped over it quite easily, continuing on. But not before Grudge examined the corpse further, to find a hefty pouch filled with twenty-five gold pieces, and a bronze skull necklace.

The party now found themselves in a much larger room, with several openings and doors in many directions, and most visibly, a number of statues representing regal figures on the west side. Examining them revealed nothing of import though, and the party endeavored to listen at some of the doors leading out of the room.

Out of one of the eastern doors came the sound of loud snoring, and light streamed from the opening underneath. The adventurers spent some time debating whether it was best to kick down the door and assault whatever was behind using the element of surprise; or to politely knock, and have a civilized discussion with the room’s occupant. In the end, after failing to pick the lock, they resolved to come back later, and instead went to examine the northernmost door.

Behind it, they found the corpse of an unfortunate dwarf, who had seemingly been strangled by some kind of black rope. Beyond it was another stone archway, carved in the shape of tree branches. Resolving not to go in that ominous direction, the party instead headed to the single door that led westward.

Marco swiftly opened the door, and was immediately greeted by eight shiny red eyes, glinting at the edge of the torch’s light. The creature hanging from the ceiling was surprised, and the party began the attack by throwing a flask of oil at it, which missed and ignited on the floor beneath it. Two arrows followed, both missing as well. Marco stepped forward, ready to meet the beast in mano a mano, hand-to-legs combat. The elf and the thief let loose another volley of arrows, this time hitting the creature: one half-severed one of its legs, the other embedded itself deep in one of its biggest eyes, which started oozing green blood. Seeing his opportunity, Marco thrust his halberd upward, cleanly shearing through the creature’s head, spraying green liquid all over. The creature lost its grip on the ceiling where it had made its web, and crashed down belly first, its legs gruesomely snapping in the process.

It seemed that behind the beast was yet another archway, this time one carved in the likeness of three intertwined serpents. As the party debated what kind of trap was undoubtedly hidden near it, Marco simply jumped and dexterously tumbled past the arch, unharmed. Shrugging their shoulders, Fra, Elmenor and Grudge passed through it without incident.

The party entered a small room, in the middle of which stood the statue of a hunter and his two hounds. To the north and south of it, hanging from the walls, were large mirrors. Proceeding with caution, after examining the statue for any pressable buttons of any kind, they carried on westward.

They came to a large, circular room with a tall domed ceiling. In the middle of it lay an enormous crimson carpet, decorated with gold and green geometric patterns, all made of fine wool. From there, a corridor led north, a beautifully carved wooden door to the west, and a corridor to the south. Circumventing the carpet, the party went south, in an attempt to rejoin what they thought was the way they came in from. They were correct in that assumption, and soon they arrived back at the first fork in the road they had encountered.

Gleefully, and now richer by about a pouch’s worth of gold, they headed out, up through the root-ladder and into the chilly night, back to the village where they would spend their hard-earned riches on all the pleasures the adventuring life is all about. They knew however, that this was not to be their last expedition to that dreamy forest glade, and to the strange complex under the Hole in the Oak.

#Wilderlands #OneShot #SessionReport

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