BlackOnyx
2019-03-05, 03:14 AM
(Related to an earlier post (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?579113-The-Benefits-of-DM-ing-E6-My-Experience-So-Far) about the same campaign.)
In the e6 campaign I run, the PCs have been developing nicely on their path to world domination. Being the gaggle of bruisers they are (neanderthal dragon shaman, orc paragon/shapeshifter druid, human crusader + one odd elan erudite), they've been performing admirably against the tanky beatsticks most of their earlier adventures have pitted them against.
Their last few sessions have been dedicated to an expedition into the Gray Wastes, a vast expanse of mountains surrounding the better part of the empire's southern border. A surly noble with a penchant for engineering had tasked them with detailing/recovering the remains of a grounded airship (lost/suppressed technology) in hopes of uncovering the secrets of their construction.
The PCs, particularly the high-society elan, had taken great interest in the prospect of acquiring an airship of their own. What better way to subjugate the masses than from miles above? All in all, I applauded their enthusiasm, imagining for myself how all of their plotting and scheming would pan out:
They would, of course, find the remains of the ship crashed along the mountainside—its hull splintered, its balloon tattered—a solemn, ancient tribute to the culture and technology of civilization past. They would recover samples of the fabrics, sketch out rough schematics, and, after a long and arduous journey back, return their findings to the noble who had hired them.
From there, they would help organize, in secret, the construction of their own vessel, working alongside the noble as he and his crew rediscovered the lost art of airship manufacture. It would be an ongoing struggle of providing supplies, suppressing imperial interference, and lying in wait the day they could finally take to the skies for themselves...
Of course, in my fantasy, I'd entirely forgotten about the first rule of DMing:
"Introduce something cool into your campaign and the players will, without fail or exception, devise a method by which to commandeer it and use it for themselves."
You see, the backdrop for this campaign is somewhat inspired by dramatizations of medieval Europe; there is a central church (complete with its own litany of saints) and a strong history of literature/storytelling about the eternal struggle between good and evil, God and Asmodeus, angels and devils.
Of course, being d&d, the devils in this case are very much real and active players in imperial society. Upon stumbling across/kidnapping a passing citizen who had made a deal with such a being, the PCs quickly discovered the ritual for summoning one and, of course, immediately repeated the process for themselves.
The encounter ended with the simple farmer-turned-crusader finding new strength in his infernal patron and the rest of the party agreeing to help a certain imp expedite (for gold and information) the recovery of souls who hadn't been wise enough to stipulate their own protection in the fine print.
Though I didn't think much of it at the time, the player running the elan noted that he had sketched out the ritual circle in detail. When he requested candles and red ink before they set out on their expedition, I didn't think much of it either.
Fast forward five sessions and a month of in-game time:
After weeks of travel, the party is at the base of the mountain. They can see the ruined remains of the airship on the peak. When morning comes, they plan to make the climb, braving whatever dangers may face them on their way to the site of the broken vessel.
It's at this point the player running the elan tells me:
"With the supplies I brought in my pack, I'd like to draw a ritual circle."
I raise an eyebrow.
Interesting. Didn't see this coming. Wonder what he plans on asking for.
A familiar impish figure appears under the cover of night, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Oh, it's you again. Finally ready to sell that soul of yours?"
"Actually, yes."
Hmmm? The eyebrow lifts higher.
"Oh...right...of course, of course. What is it you desire?"
The elan holds up a sketch of a certain skyship wreck he'd been making over the course of the past few days.
"Can you fix this?"
Both eyes widen in realization.
An elan with no intention of dying...
...a single outlay of magical repair in exchange for a soul otherwise beyond an imp's reach...
...of course we are making this deal you beautiful smug bastard.
Now, the next session has yet to drop, but I can certainly say I'm looking forward to seeing how things play out.
Mundane air travel, I believe, has the potential to play a significant role in the context of an e6 campaign. In a world where Overland Flight, Wind Walk, and Teleport don't exist, air superiority is a potent asset. While I didn't expect my players to gain access to it this early on (they just reached fourth level), I can't wait to see where the campaign goes from here.
This all said, any thoughts related to this particular development/scenario or the more general topic of "airships in e6" are welcome.
In the e6 campaign I run, the PCs have been developing nicely on their path to world domination. Being the gaggle of bruisers they are (neanderthal dragon shaman, orc paragon/shapeshifter druid, human crusader + one odd elan erudite), they've been performing admirably against the tanky beatsticks most of their earlier adventures have pitted them against.
Their last few sessions have been dedicated to an expedition into the Gray Wastes, a vast expanse of mountains surrounding the better part of the empire's southern border. A surly noble with a penchant for engineering had tasked them with detailing/recovering the remains of a grounded airship (lost/suppressed technology) in hopes of uncovering the secrets of their construction.
The PCs, particularly the high-society elan, had taken great interest in the prospect of acquiring an airship of their own. What better way to subjugate the masses than from miles above? All in all, I applauded their enthusiasm, imagining for myself how all of their plotting and scheming would pan out:
They would, of course, find the remains of the ship crashed along the mountainside—its hull splintered, its balloon tattered—a solemn, ancient tribute to the culture and technology of civilization past. They would recover samples of the fabrics, sketch out rough schematics, and, after a long and arduous journey back, return their findings to the noble who had hired them.
From there, they would help organize, in secret, the construction of their own vessel, working alongside the noble as he and his crew rediscovered the lost art of airship manufacture. It would be an ongoing struggle of providing supplies, suppressing imperial interference, and lying in wait the day they could finally take to the skies for themselves...
Of course, in my fantasy, I'd entirely forgotten about the first rule of DMing:
"Introduce something cool into your campaign and the players will, without fail or exception, devise a method by which to commandeer it and use it for themselves."
You see, the backdrop for this campaign is somewhat inspired by dramatizations of medieval Europe; there is a central church (complete with its own litany of saints) and a strong history of literature/storytelling about the eternal struggle between good and evil, God and Asmodeus, angels and devils.
Of course, being d&d, the devils in this case are very much real and active players in imperial society. Upon stumbling across/kidnapping a passing citizen who had made a deal with such a being, the PCs quickly discovered the ritual for summoning one and, of course, immediately repeated the process for themselves.
The encounter ended with the simple farmer-turned-crusader finding new strength in his infernal patron and the rest of the party agreeing to help a certain imp expedite (for gold and information) the recovery of souls who hadn't been wise enough to stipulate their own protection in the fine print.
Though I didn't think much of it at the time, the player running the elan noted that he had sketched out the ritual circle in detail. When he requested candles and red ink before they set out on their expedition, I didn't think much of it either.
Fast forward five sessions and a month of in-game time:
After weeks of travel, the party is at the base of the mountain. They can see the ruined remains of the airship on the peak. When morning comes, they plan to make the climb, braving whatever dangers may face them on their way to the site of the broken vessel.
It's at this point the player running the elan tells me:
"With the supplies I brought in my pack, I'd like to draw a ritual circle."
I raise an eyebrow.
Interesting. Didn't see this coming. Wonder what he plans on asking for.
A familiar impish figure appears under the cover of night, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Oh, it's you again. Finally ready to sell that soul of yours?"
"Actually, yes."
Hmmm? The eyebrow lifts higher.
"Oh...right...of course, of course. What is it you desire?"
The elan holds up a sketch of a certain skyship wreck he'd been making over the course of the past few days.
"Can you fix this?"
Both eyes widen in realization.
An elan with no intention of dying...
...a single outlay of magical repair in exchange for a soul otherwise beyond an imp's reach...
...of course we are making this deal you beautiful smug bastard.
Now, the next session has yet to drop, but I can certainly say I'm looking forward to seeing how things play out.
Mundane air travel, I believe, has the potential to play a significant role in the context of an e6 campaign. In a world where Overland Flight, Wind Walk, and Teleport don't exist, air superiority is a potent asset. While I didn't expect my players to gain access to it this early on (they just reached fourth level), I can't wait to see where the campaign goes from here.
This all said, any thoughts related to this particular development/scenario or the more general topic of "airships in e6" are welcome.