The Tournament - an old school adventure site

On the horizon, the characters sight a picturesque castle of the old style; tall, elegant, and graceful, surrounded by a stout wall. It stands on a rocky hill overlooking the plain.

Should they draw closer, they encounter mounds of broken swords, shattered lances, rusting armor and helmets—some with the heads still inside. The sound of men shrieking and arms clashing echoes over the castle walls. Flocks of crows roam the plain.

Once they reach the outer wall, they find fresh corpses and more arms and armor heaped against the wall, as if it were tossed over like so much trash.

If the player characters linger a while, another body will be tossed from the castle wall. If they catch sight of the men on the wall, they will notice two manic looking warriors, wearing fine clothes covered in gore.

Should they investigate the main gate, they will find a heavy iron portcullis, closed and unmanned. Through the bars, they can see garishly colored tents and flags, laid out haphazardly. There appears to be two armored fighting men, locked in a duel to the death. Their slain horses lay in the middle of the field. The roar of a cheering crowd echoes through the gate house.

Characters entering over the wall or levering up the gate are unopposed.

The Tournament is an adventure location suitable for old school characters of any level, though it will probably present minimal challenge to characters over level 5. The elements are all pretty vanilla D&D. There's portable treasure worth 7000XP floating around the castle, and enough armor and weapons lying around to arm a fortress.

Bisley Staples

 
If you want to grab a map, you could do worse than this small fortress from Dyson Logos.

BACKGROUND FOR THE GM
A curse has taken hold of the castle. Its lord, a bloodthirsty champion in his youth, insulted an Elven king, who cursed him with a tournament that never ends.

Fighters that enter the castle wearing arms and armor must save vs. magic, or be forced to join the tournament (as per the Geas spell). Characters of other classes are not affected.
Upon being Geased, even the most honorless scoundrel will feel a swell of martial pride, and the urgent desire to defend it, even at the cost of his life.

The spectators and officiates are all Elves (poorly) disguised as human courtiers. Watching humans slaughter one another is like the combination of a bloodsport and a LARP. They don’t particularly hate the humans that are fighting and dying for their amusement, this is just what they’re doing for a hobby lately.

How did they get here?
-The characters may stumble across The Tournament while hex crawling
-They hear of a bereaved noblewoman, who offers a reward for information about her missing husband’s fate
-They hear rumors of a castle that draws in warriors and knights by the dozen, who are never seen again.
-They see an elven messenger deliver notice of a grand tournament, with a fabulous prize
-They’re hired as tax collectors, sent by the local Baron to investigate why Lord Garen has paid no tribute

WAR BANDS INSIDE THE CASTLE
Take a deck of regular playing cards and draw 10. This will represent the warriors and men-at-arms inside the castle when the players arrive. Unless noted otherwise, all are affected by the curse.

Keep the cards handy for reference, and draw from them at random when you need to decide who’s about, who comes running to a commotion, and so on.

Each card represents:
King - a 4th level fighter
Queen - a 2rd level fighter
Jack - a knight errant (fighter level 1d6). Roll for a random magic item.
Ace - a 0 level squire, unaffected by the curse, trying to shake his master loose from the trance.
Joker - A ghoul disguised as a knight, enjoying the feast set out for it

Other cards are counted as the indicated number of 0 level fighters. They’re organized roughly into “teams” by suite. They behave a little like rowdy sports fans—they’ll scrap with each other, but they’ll unite if threatened by fans of the other team.

Each suite corresponds to a team that the warriors have created to organize the tournament. They fight for their individual glory, but the team is a convenience of the moment. They make camp at opposite ends of the tournament grounds, sharpening their blades and mending armor by night, fighting to the death by day.

Clubs: “The Wolf Brothers”
They wear no armor, and only enough clothing to satisfy modesty (they are still knights, after all). They paint themselves with ash and howl a weird battle cry night and day (characters who spend the night here will be unable to rest or prepare spells, as long as Wolf Brothers are still present).

Hearts: “The Order of Blood”
Red everything, torn and filthy. Pretensions of honor but actually deceitful. Seek to ambush and slay Knights of the Lily (below).

Spades: “The Gray Company”
Armor caked with mud and ash. Stoic warrior monks. When not competing in the Tournament, they compose bad poetry bemoaning the horrors of battle.

Diamonds: “Knights of the Lily”
Try to present themselves as clean, dignified champions. Doesn’t work out so well after weeks or months in the mud and blood of the Tournament. Offer mercy to defeated opponents.

THE CURSE
Warriors under the sway of the curse all believe they're in the midst of an epic tournament, with the fate of kingdoms at stake. Each believes with manic fervor that he will be the one to win and take home the prize.

They pay little mind to player characters, being far too busy with preparations and battles to make small talk or explain what’s going on.

If pestered excessively, insulted, or attacked, they will fight with a morale of 7.

Nearby warriors of matching suite will join any fray in 1d4 rounds (draw a card or two from the set of 10 to see who shows up). Warriors of a different suite may take the opportunity to stage an ambush (perhaps inadvertently coming to the rescue of the PC's). Any fight that breaks out on the tournament grounds could turn into a bloodbath as different war bands join the fray.

Female player characters will draw the attention of any warrior they interact with. The warrior will beg for a token of her favor, and her blessing for the coming battle. If denied vigorously, he’ll go off to pout. In 1d4 turns, he’ll start a fight that may cascade into a bloodbath. If indulged, he will act as her escort, prepared to defend her to the death, until he takes her token into the next round of the tournament.

Should she grant a token to another knight, the two will immediately fight to the death. The survivor will attempt to act as "the lady's champion".

THE ELVES
This whole mess is the elves’ fault.

There is a crowd of 20 spectators that spends the daylight hours watching the fights, making or taking bets on who will be slain in the next round. At night, they party in the castle like rockstars (which is why most of the valuables in the place are wrecked). At first glance, they appear to be normal nobles dressed up in a garish, almost ridiculous version of high class attire.

They mockingly mimic courtly manners and cheer enthusiastically at any fights that break out.

It takes only a few moments near one of them to notice their weirdly graceful features. Any character who has encountered elves before will recognize them for what they are.

Attacking an elf in sight of the tournament contestants will kick off mayhem—any nearby contestants will rally to defend the “noble lords and ladies”.

Elves fear any risk of a violent end to their long lives; they will flee danger if they can and fight only if they must, with no regard for the lives of their fellows. They will regroup in the castle to beg the King of the Elves to deal with the aggressors.

Each elf wears or carries 1d10x10gp in jewelry and treasure (mostly of human make, stolen from the castle).

THE ARMSMONGERS
There’s a small group of petty merchants digging through the refuse and gore of the tournament grounds. They’re scrounging up useable arms and weapons, and selling them back to the still living warriors.

They’re led by:
“Lord” Seth. Level 3 thief. Utterly pragmatic and amoral. Mockingly wears the real lord’s crown (worth 1000gp). Wants to see the tournament continue indefinitely to keep the gold flowing, and will kill to make sure of it.

The gang consists of five Normal Men with leather armor and assorted weapons (1d6 damage)
-Oribad: friendly and sardonic—loves the sight of nobility choking to death on their own blood
-Renner: timid and repentant—just here to scrounge up some money. Will help the players as long as it doesn’t put him at risk.
-Yannik: Ridiculously loyal to Lord Seth, will defend him to the death.
-Brennin: Working off a massive debt to Lord Seth
-Zeek: An annoying kid who loves knights and wants to be one. Hopes to steal some armor and a horse to begin his epic adventure.

They've gathered a horde of coins, gems, and valuables worth 2,000gp.

THE KING OF THE ELVES
His Most Serene Majesty King Oberil of the Seven Pointed Crown
Level 6 Elf
Choose spells at random and roll for a random magic item in his possession.

Oberil can’t recall why he laid the curse, but hasn’t grown tired of the show yet (he won’t any time soon). While more brave in combat than his subjects, he isn't about to lose his life over this game; if reduced to half his hitpoint total, he will attempt to flee.

Oberil isn't the king of all elves, though he might tell the PC's otherwise if there's any chance of buying it.

LORD GAREN
Level 3 Fighter
A once dashing and ruthless swordsman, now entering late middle age. He’s dressed in a ragged, greasy tunic with a bloody stain on the left hip.

The curse prevents him from leaving his chambers at the top of the tower. He’s fed rarely, and has wasted away and gone half mad. King Oberil is frequently with him, goading him to enjoy the mayhem below.

Garen can’t remember what specifically he did to insult King Oberil, but he can remember some details of the encounter. He is raving and somewhat unhinged, but becomes lucid if spoken to with the deference due to a lord.

THE GAMES BEGIN
Every hour of daylight, a new round of the tournament is announced. 2d4 random participants hack each other to bits on the tournament ground. NPC's have a 50% chance of being slain in the course of battle. Cursed player characters are compelled by the Geas to volunteer eagerly.

Frequently, King Oberil calls for bizarre tournament scenarios. For example--
-half of the contestants will be clad in armor, while the other half go "skins"
-each knight will wear a lady's hat, and the winner will be the one who captures them all
-one contestant will be heavily armored and mounted on horseback with a helmet that obscures his vision, while the rest wear no armor and try to bring down him down using pointed sticks.

The PRIZE
In the King's box at the tournament ground, there is a jewel studded trophy worth 4,000gp. Attempting to steal it will draw warriors eager to punish this "unsportsmanlike conduct" (draw two cards to see who shows up).

ENDING THE CURSE
The easiest way to end the curse for good is to discover the nature of the original insult that provoked the curse, and remind the Elven King of it. Now that time has healed his wounded pride, he looks back on it with a laugh, and ends the curse, departing with his entourage.

Other possibilities include:
-casting Dispel Magic or Remove Curse on the lord (which will invite creative retribution at some future date from the King of the Elves, for ruining his game).
-a single warrior is left alive, and awarded the prize
-Killing the King of the Elves (which will make the elves the sworn enemies of all PCs involved)
-find something more entertaining for the elves to do

Of course, player characters are also free to flee the place immediately, or geek the Armsmongers to steal their racket.

THE INSULT
The day the cursed Tournament began, Lord Garen stumbled upon a doppelgänger rifling through his things after infiltrating the castle.

Believing the creature had been sent to kill him and take his place on the throne, Garen slew it handily, and wiped his sword on his tunic.

Oberil was offended not by the death of his pet doppelganger, but by the staining of the fine tunic. He’d sent the doppelgänger to steal it as part of a party costume (Elves really enjoy cosplaying as humans, and creating the perfect costume is of the utmost importance for remaining popular with the fey court).

Look, immortality really is that boring. Hellboy 2 (2008)

If the curse is ended, the warriors left alive will wander off towards home in a daze, remembering their ordeal as a particularly vivid nightmare (possibly after massacring any elves that fail to flee if they learn of the curse). The survivors of the Lord’s retinue (20% of the warriors still alive) assume control of the castle, and do what they can to help the lord if he’s still alive.

This is one of those things that was outlined in some old campaign material and never saw action at the table. I decided to flesh it out with some ideas I used in my 200 word RPG entry. It was sort of inspired by those castle encounters in the Expert set and OD&D where knights are just waiting around to come out and joust the PCs or kick their ass.

200 word RPG contest

My entry for the 200 word RPG contest went up sometime today.

I was surprised how good many of them are—it’s like having an open box of oreos (just one more!).

Some are… not as clever as they might think (one sets players in the role of RPG writers for a 200 word RPG contest).

Some are more like rudimentary board games played with pen and paper.

There’s a lot of ultra light storygames, where you have a lo-res mechanic for trading narrative tokens, based around a loose theme. The mechanics are there to tell you who gets the talking stick.

So after reading a few I sat down to write with a couple ideas in mind.
-I’d include useful setting material (not just “you’re on a spaceship”)
-the mechanic would use playing cards (a die roll is a random number generator—a hand of cards offers some strategy).
-some meaningful character differentiation

I was turning ideas over in my head, when the dog thing came to mind (it’s a game where the PC’s are a pack of feral dogs, in what’s implied to be some kind of war zone).

It’s something a little different from the usual genre stuff, but also accessible to pretty much anybody. You know what dogs are like. You can imagine what they can do about as well as you can imagine what a normal person can do—so you can draw on all that to decide what the players can do, what they need to make a check for, and what’s just impossible. Each dog has a niche, so that everybody can do something different.

The basic mechanic is play cards to do stuff >>> get food to draw cards. Manage resources wisely or game over.

Since playing cards were already in the game, I wanted to use them to rough out some kind of environment. Nobody’s investing prep time for a 200 word RPG.

Using them to depict a city grid was obvious, and the combination of suits, face cards, and numbers gives plenty of material for procedural generation.

I started out thinking about cute dogs having adventures around their neighborhood, befriending humans, having little scraps with other dogs, and so on.

like this

Then things took a wrong turn somewhere. So there’s also mechanical support for eating human flesh. Oh well.

Fuck!

The B/X Thief is Good

http://pmullenblog.blogspot.com/

Volumes have been wasted on attacking or defending the early iterations of the Thief class in D&D. Here’s some more.

I like the Thief as presented in the Moldvay basic set. I think their utility is underrated, though like everything else, much depends on how the DM interprets the rules.

For those who like the general idea of a thief class, the main criticism is that their skills suck. They’re bad at everything a thief should be good at (or so it seems).

Moldvay Basic Set, page B8

I’m going to go through each of these skills and try to persuade you that things are not quite as bad as they seem. Reading closely, there's more to it than the low percentages on the table above.

Open Locks
Notice that all locks in D&D land are equally difficult to pick. Whether it’s the lock on your sister’s diary, or the padlock the dwarves put on Loki’s magic chains, you’ve got a 15% chance to open it.

That seems silly, but for me, it’s a reasonable abstraction within the scope of the game. It’s even got a sense of mad gonzo fun about it—a level one thief unleashing Loki and kicking off Ragnorok seems like it would fit a certain style of campaign.

To work around this, one might rule that any thief can pick a common lock automatically. After all, we only want to roll dice when the result is in doubt, and interesting.

If you fail, no retries until you gain another level. No “taking 20”.

Find or Remove Traps
10% at first level. Ouch.

“either attempt may only be tried once per trap”.

However, nothing in the descriptive text suggests that a failed roll springs the trap. So that makes the low percentage sting a bit less. My reading of the rules suggest the check takes negligible time. So it’s always worth a shot.

I GM with the idea in mind that, while anybody can try to disarm a trap, thieves are pros. They don’t need to improvise or spend much time investigating—when a thief successfully removes a trap, they go “ah yes, I’ve seen this before” and disarm the mechanism with a paperclip.

Pick Pockets
20% isn’t so bad. Probably worth trying, as long as you have an exit plan. And if you snag the keys off a guard’s belt without a fight, you can loot the place at your leisure. Big risks for big rewards.

For my own part, I’d usually say failure here provokes a reaction roll (at penalty). Another reason why CHA isn’t a dump stat.

Move Silently
20% again—this gets right at the core of what should be typical thief stuff. Why so low? Especially if you need to Hide in Shadows to stay concealed at the same time?

Well, it’s better than 1-in-6 on a d6 anyways. And I only call for this roll when the thief wants to move at something like normal speed, right under the nose of something that would otherwise hear a person walking by. Any character can wait quietly in ambush just by sitting still, and get the usual chance to surprise an enemy.

Climb Sheer Surfaces
87% (!) You could say the level one thief is a professional climber, and an amateur burglar.

For short climbs, I’d have no problem with a player describing this as parkour type wall jumps that take about the same amount of time as an attack roll.

Perhaps Gygax et al. chose to make this one so good because it’s likely to result in instant character death. If you fail the roll, you fall while halfway to your goal. So if you were trying to climb 100 feet, you’re gonna fall and take 5d6 damage. Ouch.

So this skill makes the thief extremely mobile, and able to bring the whole party along by fixing a rope at the top of a hard climb.

Hide in Shadows
Only 10% at level one. Was it set so low to keep thief players from constantly fading into the shadows and spamming sneak attacks?

Given how low a chance this has of working, I let players use this as a limited form of invisibility. If the roll succeeds, and you’re in a dark room, you can hide in plain sight, or even fade from sight like Batman if it’s even sort of plausible. You can lose yourself in a crowd in broad daylight.

To me, “hide in shadows” clearly implies hiding directly in the observer’s line of sight. Otherwise, you need cover—If you’re standing still behind a door, around a corner, or on your belly at the peak of a ridge, you’re hidden automatically.

Hear Noise
1 or 2 on a D6
That’s a 33% chance at level one. We’re rolling on a d6 for some reason. Is it because the player was meant to roll this, while all the others are rolled by the DM? I’m always fascinated by these funny little turns of the rules. Gary Gygax must have had some reason for it (not necessarily a good one).

If a player rolls this successfully, I try to make sure it always grants some new bit of information about the area, even if there's not a clear threat nearby.

Sneak Attack
+4 to hit and double damage when your enemy is caught from behind, unaware. This alone can make level one a little less shitty for the thief. I see nothing in the Basic rules that suggests you can’t sneak attack with a ranged weapon, which makes the thief a decisive force in an ambush.

And if you can kill that 1HD chump, shouldn’t his buddies roll morale? Even if it doesn’t work every time, it seems the thief could scatter herds of mooks at least as often as the fighter does.

So what is the thief actually good for?

If you fall into a hole (like say, a pit trap), you can get out quickly without help.

You can get the whole party into difficult places by climbing up and dropping a rope. You’re pretty good at this right away—much better at it than the LotFP specialist can be at level one. You can bound up short walls and fences, climb up the face of a building to run along the roof, and so on. So thieves seem to have the mobility niche on lockdown.

You can reliably take out weak enemies in one hit, even at level one, as long as you can set up a sneak attack—which should hardly ever require a successful hide or move silently check, if you can set up an ambush.

If the thief is charming (has a high CHA) then even a failed attempt to pick pockets doesn’t mean certain disaster. If the GM allows a reaction roll, you might be allowed to skulk off with your hide intact.

They level up more than twice as fast as the wizard, and 60% faster than the fighter. That means they get a little more padding than their 1d4 hit die would suggest. They might be the highest level character in the group about half the time.

So if you play to the character’s strengths, and make contingencies for failures, the thief can do several cool things that go beyond “normal adventurer stuff”. As the thief advances (quickly!) his other skills catch up. Your first level thief is a very competent “second story man”, but not yet a master safecracker. You shouldn’t be afraid to use your skills—you should use them all the time, and have a backup plan for the inevitable misfires.

By level 7, a thief has got a better than 50% chance of success in all his skills (except hide in shadows, which is at 45).

At that point, he’s got a good chance of pickpocketing anything off of anybody, (though his chances diminish against creatures with more than 5HD). If a place has a door or a window, he can probably get in. His ears are so good that the party should rarely be caught by surprise. So while it’s possible for him to do all this at level one, these abilities are really only “unlocked” as he gains levels.

I’m not a Gygaxian purist, but I think it’s worth examining the original rules in context before setting them aside.

***

There’s a longstanding argument in OSR circles against including the thief at all. Roughly summarized, it says that the thief’s niche is artificial—his “specialty” comes at the expense of making everyone else unable to do what should be typical adventurer stuff.

If you use B/X as written, that may indeed be a problem:

“They (thieves) are the only characters who can open locks and find traps without using magic to do so.”
(Moldvay Basic, page B10)

I treat it this way instead—given time and a bit of clever play, any character can attempt to do what the thief does. The attempt usually takes about one exploration turn (ten minutes). Any character can climb a rope, and most can manage a short climb up a rock face. In the meantime, light sources are depleted, wandering monsters may attack, and so on.

The thief’s skills represent extraordinary feats, done with speed and grace. Disarming a trap in seconds with just the right tool; climbing a tower with nearly seamless masonry; melting into shadows like Batman; picking the amulet off the duchess’s neck while surrounded by her guards.

While the specialist class in Lamentations of the Flame Princess is a popular house rule alternative with good reason, the B/X thief has more (though less reliable) skills.

In the context of a dungeon crawl, his abilities primarily aid the party by saving time and resources. If the thief gets a good roll at the right time, they might route around encounters that would otherwise bleed the party and send them fleeing the dungeon. If the thief’s abilities were more almost always successful, then many of the dungeon’s challenges would be made irrelevant (and there’d be less to gain from leveling up).

How Much Gold is That?

Below are the mental landmarks I use to make sense of a treasure’s value when stocking an old school dungeon, and describing treasure to the players.

While I run B/X mostly as is, I use the silver standard as laid out in Lamentations of the Flame Princess (as well as the equipment list).

TL;DR, keep all the numbers the same, but convert “gold pieces”(gp) to “silver pieces”(sp). 50sp=1gp.

I do this mostly because I like treasure hoards that look like this:

from The Count of Monte Cristo (1975)

Rather than this:

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013)

100 silver pieces
-an "inventory slot" in LotFP encumbrance
-a riding horse
-about 18 man-days of casual labor
-a full suit of chain armor
-a blank spell book (a large blank volume made with the best materials available)
-monthly salary for skilled labor (like a scholar, a foot soldier, or a craftsman).
-a finely made gold ring
-enough to make a yeoman or a tradesman’s eyes light up, but nothing too impressive for a wealthy person
-in modern terms—a nice roll of 100 dollar bills

500 silver pieces
-a war horse
-25 longswords
-an illuminated (but nonmagical) book
-two month’s wages for an alchemist
-more coins than a regular man can carry
-the “good silver” at a wealthy merchant’s home
-cutting edge scientific instruments

1000 silver pieces
-plate armor
-a river boat
-50 plain longswords
-Ten month’s pay for a skilled laborer
-two fine horsedrawn coaches
-ransom for a knight (his horse and armor kept as a gratuity)
-a richly decorated gold chalice
-in modern terms, a brand new car, or the cash to buy one

5000 silver pieces
-Richly decorated plate armor for a knight and his steed
-an opulent work of art (a big detailed tapestry, a jewel encrusted goblet, a masterfully illuminated holy book)
-a hoard of silver coins that will take 11 regular men or two pack animals to carry (about a wagonload)
-the finest piece of jewelry available for sale in a major city
-a paperweight found in a Lich’s junk drawer
-a sack of 100 gold coins

10,000 silver pieces
-a renowned work of art
-a single huge, perfect gemstone
-ransom for a lord
-a cart filled with the rarest spices
-a sack of cut diamonds, rubies, and emeralds
-A “tower house” (a three story fortified “mini castle” without a wall)
-the service of a hundred fighting men for a month
-in modern terms—a nice new house

50,000 silver pieces
-a large sailing ship
-a legendary work of art, perhaps featured in stories dating back centuries
-a hoard of coins that requires a hundred men to carry
-enough coins to load down twenty pack animals
-a keep, built from scratch

100,000-200,000
-the crown jewels of a major kingdom
-ransom for the prince-heir of a major kingdom
-a unique, powerful machine created by a forgotten science
-the defining masterwork of a legendary artist (Michelangelo’s David; Picasso’s Guernica)
-a top of the line warship
-a brand new castle, built from scratch
-a mythical dragon’s hoard
-in modern terms—a private jet or a luxurious yacht

1,000,000+
-an armada of war ships
-a sprawling fortress complex
-the treasure vault of a dwarven city at its peak

It probably falls apart somewhere around 50k silver pieces, but it’s close enough for stocking dungeons.

Just to check my work, I took a look at the prices of top end warships and castles (the biggest capital items I can imagine a D&D character spending hard cash for).

I searched around for some stats on the early modern British Navy; at the start of the Seven Years War they had 88 Ships of the Line (the best warship available) and hundreds of other ships (at least according to this random website).
http://allempires.com/article/index.php?q=english_navy_1649-1815

So those prices seem believable. A world spanning empire has less than a hundred of the top end ships, plus lots of smaller ones. The fleet is built over the course of many years, with taxes drawn from a wealthy island nation and her colonies, along with plenty of sovereign debt.

Another way to check is by seeing if a hypothetical treasure hoard looks believable when compared to its buying power:

The Count of Monte Cristo (2002)

A four wheel cart drawn by two animals can carry about 5,000 coins.

5,000 gold coins are worth 250,000 silver pieces (and 250,000XP).

I’m referencing the film Count of Monte Cristo because it features a convincing enough fictional treasure hoard, not because of any assumption about its historical accuracy. To me, this looks like a magnificent treasure for a group of mid-level PCs.

This is what level 7 looks like

Anyways, in the film, the Count's buddy rolls up with his wagonful of treasure, and that’s apparently enough to get this wealthy nobleman dude to deed his magnificent palace to a stranger right there on the spot, along with all of his expensive furnishings, and ride off with nothing but his gold and the clothes on his back. So clearly Edmond Dantes is paying something more than “market value”. Maybe more than twice what it’s all worth, but probably not ten times.

So with this in mind, I’m comfortable that I’m at least playing with the right orders of magnitude when describing big treasure hauls.