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zippdementia · 7 years ago

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Part 40 Alignment May Vary: Vraath Keep

This is the ongoing adventure in the 5e conversion of classic 3.5 adventure The Red Hand of Doom! Not only does this detail the adventures of my three players but it also give detailed suggestions on how to run a 5e conversion of this campaign.

Tools I reference a lot: The 3.5 Red Handbook of Doom, The beastiary Revenge of the Horde, secondary beastiary Tome of Beasts.

Hunger. The sensation never left him. The best he could do to counter it was to hunt and kill and gorge until his belly sagged with food and he could not deny the truth, that he could not physically eat any more. It wasn’t quite what someone else might describe as being full, but there was satisfaction in knowing he had eaten to the point where physically he could no longer do so. But then he got bored. When the smell of blood and fear wasn’t filling his nostrils he would become restless, and anger always followed restlessness.

He was feeling restless now. He had just killed, a female deer that he had spotted while flying over the forest, but it had been an easy target. She had frozen in fear with the smell of him and he had flicked his tail and shot two spines from his tail directly through her neck. It had been a good shot, better than he intended, and she had died quickly. That had disappointed him. He had wanted a good chase, a mad dash through undergrowth, the adrenaline coursing through him like the finest potion. Maybe she would run back to her den and he could eat the little ones, too, if she had them. It was the right time of the year for little ones.

But instead he was here, already home and the dawn not even broken yet. Ahead of him, the Keep that Should Be His loomed. The Hobgoblins were scuttling away from the dawn, returning to their bunks in the old broken down keep. His own entrance, a hole in the roof of the old armory, was not far. He would crawl into his hole and eat his disappointing, if filling, dinner.

Briefly, as he flew past, a crow caught his eye. It was perched on the broken tower, bathed in the sickly green light that emanated from the Bugbear sorceror’s magics (the Bugbear was fond of his little trick, making people think the Keep was haunted). For a brief moment, Clydus thought of giving chase to the little black speck, but the crow would make a paltry meal and most likely a poor chase. He ignored it, and settled instead on his roof, dragging the corpse inside the hole with him.

“Manticore,” Jorr said in his warble of a voice and spat to one side. The picture the crow had drawn for them was poor, but surprisingly good considering Nysyries was using only a beak and talon to produce it. “Vicious creatures, nasty tail spines that they can shoot at you. They become embedded, infected, bad way to go.”

“So we sneak in and kill it,” Tyrion said. “It doesn’t know we are here, we have the advantage.”

“There is another way,” Nysyries said this as she transformed, the black feathers becoming black scales, the legs and wings elongating into limbs, the simple clothing and leather armor she wore emerging on her body. “When I flew over I saw a breach in the wall Southern. Looks like giants broke through there. We could sneak in that way. There were no guards.”

“Then we go,” Xaviee insisted. “This is what I’ve waited for, I won’t wait any longer. It is dawn, we have the advantage. We strike now.”

Beelzebub was exhausted. All night he’d been patrolling the woods around the old ruined castle. Koth--no, he was Wyrmlord Koth, he’d have to remember that--had ordered regular patrols ever since the hunchback had come back with reports of the three warriors hanging around the Ferry town. They had gone south this night, along the Dawn’s road and had even thought that they had seen campfires burning off in the woods, but when they chased them the lights kept moving and eventually the Sergeant had called off the trek, growling about fey magic. These woods were strange, it were true.

Now he undid his chainmail and climbed in his bunk, grateful to catch a few hours sleep before his shift for watch was up. However, he had barely closed his eyes it felt like before the ruined hall that served as their barracks exploded into noise and chaos. His eyelids snapped open and he saw a tall elf standing before him, a bandanna wrapped around his eyes. Beelzebub rolled instinctively but the elf seemed to track his movements, his hands darting out like clubs, cracking into his ribs and head. Blood poured from Beelzebub’s mouth and breathing was suddenly difficult as he completed his roll out of bed and desperately fought to regain his footing and his senses.

There were five of them, he saw. A huge black-scaled Dragonborn wearing dirty leathers used a heavy mace to bash in the face of the hobgoblin next to Beelzebub. A tiny man was screaming in rhyme as he darted swiftly about the room, magic blasts flying from one hand while the other idly held a gigantic black axe at the ready. Near him moved someone who was obviously a soldier: he wore a soldier’s hard monotone features as he moved about the room, sparring with the hobgoblins who rose to meet him. A bow twang announced the presence of the fourth fighter, an old man in dark green clothing, shooting arrows into the fray, taking careful aim before each shot. And then there was this elf fighting blindly, whose hands were like cudgels when they struck.

The Sergeant was calling for someone to raise the alarm. Beelzebub stood, dodged a kick from the elf and began to run. He felt pain in his back as he moved past the little one (that must have been the ax cutting me, he thought) but kept moving, kicking open the door to the courtyard and bellowing out the alarm as he ran outside, making his way for the stables. Behind him, he could hear the clash of steel continue and then it was drowned out by a sudden roar.

That would be Karkilan, he thought. The Wyrmlord’s bodyguard had joined the fight.

Karkilan was awake before the intruders had taken two steps inside the large hall. He came forward like a walking fortress from behind the dividers he had set up (for some privacy during his meditations) and charged directly at the elf, head down, clawed fists swinging around to crush the elf’s body into his horns, then throwing his head up to chuck the elf forward, the crash of the elf’s body hitting the sprawled out corpses of the Hobgoblins he had killed a wonderful music to Karkilan’s ears.

Behind him, he heard a mad cackle as Zharr, the Hobgoblin cleric, moved his deformed hunchbacked body into the hall. “Protect the Wyrmlord!” He shouted to Karkilan. “We shall take care of these.”

Karkilan wanted blood and battle: he did not wish to retreat. But years of battle training had taught him to obey and he did so now, retreating towards the entrance to the tower.

But something was wrong: the floor was coming alive beneath his hooves. He bellowed in rage as vines erupted from beneath the stone floor, pushing their way up and around his body, locking him in place. Nearby the hunchback was also struggling feebly, his misshapen body held fast by the vines. The summoner of the vines had to be the Dragonborn: she was staring intently at them and mumbling under her breath, as if calling the very earth to help her. And as Karkilan stood there, fixed in place, the elf and the halfling moved forward and drove their weapons, fist and axe, into the hunchback’s unprotected body. Two strokes was all it took: Zharr fell.

“Very entertaining,” the voice growled from the hole in the wall where they had climbed in. Traki could not see the voice’s owner, but he could smell him. The stench was like that of a great beast that wallowed in the corspses it ate. It stank of death and blood and fecal matter, with a pungent rancid smell over the top of it all that was quite unique. It had to be the Manticore. Though he had never seen one, and never would, he knew how dangerous the beast could be. And yet there was a playfullness in its voice that reminded him of a cat.

“If you would hold on for a moment,” Traki responded, “I’d be happy to come play with you next.”

The answer he got was a deep thrumm that passed, he assumed, as a chuckle. Then there was a sudden swishing sound and a change in the air. Instinctively, Traki raised his left hand and gripped the spine that had erupted from the manticore’s tail, bare inches from impaling itself in his neck. Disdainfully, Traki tossed it away.

“Listen, I said give me a moment! I’ve got others to fight first.”

This time, he got no response. Traki had no chocie but to assume the manticore had decided to wait. If he had had the eyes to see, he would have seen the manticore sitting with its monstrous, grotesque head resting on its lions paws, eyes watching Traki dart back and forth between his opponents, like a cat watches a mouse.

Fire spread from his fingertips as the vines crept under the oaken door and made their way across the chamber. The sight of them enraged him. How dare they. To make an attempt on his keep, when it was his time to rise, when the world should be bowing to him. Wyrmlord Koth, Bugbear Sorceror in service to the Great Red, was having none of it.

He strode foward, seven foot tall, flames erupting from his naked arms and twining around his hands. The vines wilted and died as he approached, his heat singing the color and life from them. At the door he paused only to announce himself: “I am the Wyrmlord Koth, son of the Dragon, weilder of the Flame! You will burn here with the force of my power!”

Then he launched the fire from his body in a massive blast that exploded above the hall, raining tiny meteors of flame down upon the intruders and their petty vines. The halfling was caught badly, falling to his knees under the onslaught. The Dragonborn ran for cover, beating off fires from her leather clothes. The Elf moved almost like the wind, dodging every speck of fire, slapping some of them from the air as they approached, turning them into sparking embers. And he looks blind.

Then aid arrived: the doors to the back of the hall burst open and his Hobgoblin warrior Beelzebub rushed in, followed by two worgs, one of them bearing a full armored Goblin warrior, Kelshab, the Prince of the Forest Tribe. Beelzebub fell quickly to a sneak attack by the monk, the elf slamming a palm into his face, crushing his jaw and killing him. But the worgs were close behind, and they leapt upon the monk and began tearing into him. Koth saw blood and sniggered at the sight. He reached inside his robes and pulled free a wand of Magic Missile, then held it forward and launched the magical bolts into the battle where they slammed into the interlopers one after the other. Koth cackled and readied another volley, but something stopped him. The Dragonborn was changing, morphing, her skin shifting into something wet looking, and rubbery. Soon, where she had stood, now instead coiled a gigantic serpent, its maw large enough to swallow a small dog whole, and to give a pony serious concern. Koth was no dog or pony, but even he took a step back as the beast lunged forward and Karkilan stepped in front of him to block him from its attack. It wrapped around the minotaur, serpent and bull locked in a sudden gruesome battle to the death.

Perhaps it is time for me to leave. Koth took two steps backwards into the tower room and disappeared from view.

Encounter: Vraath Keep

The above description doesn’t cover the whole battle, but enough of it to give the general idea. After Koth flees, the party regroups and focuses on the minotaur. Karkilan fends off the group long enough for Koth to fully escape the fortress and the battle ends in a quite epic fashion, as Trakki rides the giant snake form of Nysyries up the tower stairs to where Karkilan is about to drink a healing potion, leaps off the snake’s back, and delivers the final punch to Karkilan, taking him down.

Battle difficulty meant to be: Vraath Keep can be easy or hard, depending on how many enemies are alerted at one time. I would say my players end up approaching it in a medium to hard difficulty. Had the Manticore joined in, it would have been very difficult, possibly a TPK. But that’s appropriate, since they took most of the keep’s defendents on at one time.

Players are supposed to walk away feeling: Accomplished (or dead). They just took on a fortress, and whether they bluffed their way in via the manticore, snuck in and got what they needed, or took on the enemies in a straight fight, victory here should feel like that plan is a success. The great thing about the keep is it has so many approaches that it allows the players the opportunity to formulate any plan they like and really sandbox the approach.

Rebuild: I use hobgoblin veterans and a captain for the bunker group and a hillgoblin warrior and Alpha worgs to spice up the goblin riders. You can find these in the Revenge of the Horde. If you don’t want to use those, then I still suggest using some sort of buffed creature here. They won’t last long enough otherwise, unless your players are lower level.

For the Manticore, I only buff him a little by giving him higher than average life and I give him one use of a legendary free successfull saving throw. He likes to attack from afar, so I wanted to give him at least a chance to get there and not be immediately charmed or petrified or made afraid at the opening of combat.

For Karkilan, I Barbarian him up a little bit, giving him a STR and CON save and making him resistant to all damage except psychic once the battle starts. I have him use reckless attack, as well, for most attacks (giving him advantage to hit and players advantage to hit him).

For Koth, I do a from-scratch build, focused aroud the idea of a Fire Dragon-Gifted Sorceror. I don’t get to do too much with him yet, but it will be fun to have him come into the later battles.

Tactics: WIth all the different kinds of fighters, there are a lot of options for the DM to throw at the players and get to play around with: heavy hitters, mages, and quick-on-their-feet monsters.

The Manticore is very interesting and I enjoy that the book set him up as an aloof observer who only gets involved if directly ordered to do so or if attacked by the players. You have to decide how much of this you want to play into. I play into it heavily, because I like the world building and because it feels like it brings the challenge down to an appropriate level for my three-person party.

For a tougher fight, Koth could decide to lay his life on the line here and tackle the players with everything he’s got, throwing fireballs, using the wand of magic missile, and using his meta magic to make saves hard for the players—maybe even charming one of them. He won’t last too many rounds against a concentrated assault, but he can do some serious damage before going down, and if assisted by the Manticore, could spell a TPK for a smaller or unorganized party. Just keep that in mind when playing this encounter and remember that Koth can decide to flee whenever he feels outnumbered or like the battle is going against him. Same with the Manticore. They are your “pressure valves” in this fight.

Special Loot: The real point of this battle is to give players potential access to Koth’s maps, which really sets the pace for the rest of the adventure. There is a chance that Koth gets it and runs, which is fine if it happens, but then you will need something else to push the players onto the Skull Bridge (see next post for ideas on this). Other than this, there is the secret vault which has the game’s first big treasures. Most can be converted fairly straight (+1 Frost Bastard Sword, Gauntlets of Ogre Power, +1 Mithril Chain Shirt) and there is A LOT of gold here, which is fine—just remember to use DnD 5e magic item costs and this should actually be appropriate. The Staff of Life is an interesting item. DnD 5e is much more generous with how classes heal and which can heal, so you don’t really need the staff to stand in as the party’s healer, which is its original intent. Instead, I simplify it quite a bit. Our druid takes it.

Overall, I think this converts fine into Fifth Edition with very little adjustment. The DM has a lot of options at their disposal to make the fight easier or harder by reducing the involvedness of either Koth or the Manticore and my players definitely walk away feeling encouraged, though they are aware that the escape of Koth means their presence is probably reported to the rest of the horde. At the same time, they find the map and their next big decision will be centered around that.

#staff of life #DND 5e #Dungeons and Dragons #Pathfinder #Journey Log #Red Hand of Doom

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