Interview: Rudy Kraft (Part I)

A long-standing and popular feature of this blog has been its interviews with designers, artists, and other luminaries of the hobby. From the beginning, I’ve believed it’s important to preserve and share their memories, insights, and experiences. They deserve to be heard not only by those of us who remember those now-ancient days firsthand, but also by later generations of roleplayers who might otherwise never encounter the stories behind the games they love.

That’s why I’m always especially pleased to speak with someone whose contributions were largely unknown to me in my own youth. Such conversations are reminders of just how many hands shaped this hobby in its formative years.

Rudy Kraft, who was involved in the early days of Chaosium – or The Chaosium, as it was then styled – very kindly agreed to answer a series of questions I put to him. As you’ll soon discover, he did so with remarkable generosity and detail. What follows is the first part of our conversation; the second will appear tomorrow.

1. How did you first become involved in the hobby of role playing?

I first got involved in gaming as a hobby because of my father. I was the oldest of five children—although we started gaming before the fifth child was born. We had family games of Clue and Monopoly—mostly Clue. At some point, my father bought me a Christmas present of the old Avalon Hill game Afrika Korps. He and I played that a lot often leaving it set up on the desk in my parents' bedroom. Because I liked this game, he bought additional Avalon Hill Games at least once a year until I went away to college in 1974.

Starting in elementary school, I became an enthusiastic reader of both science fiction and fantasy.  During this time, I read and reread The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings and Asimov’s Foundation series on multiple occasions.  

During high school, some friends and I created a space exploration war game where one person acted as the moderator and the other people explored a star map from different locations until they ran into each other and presumably fought a war.  

When I was at Cornell University, I read a lot of science fiction and touched the periphery of SF fandom. In one fanzine I read about this new game, Dungeons & Dragons. This almost certainly occurred in August 1975. The game sounded interesting to me, so I ordered a copy of it which I received in September. Once I looked at it, it became obvious to me that I did not know how to get started in the game and I set it aside.

In October, I overheard two people talking about playing Dungeons & Dragons. It turned out that there was a small group of people playing the game regularly in the same dormitory where I ate my meals.  They played every Saturday, so I first started playing Dungeons & Dragons on the second Saturday in October 1975. In fact, I had a 50th anniversary celebratory session in October this year where, for the first time in years, I played rather than DMed a game of Dungeon & Dragons.

Following that first session, I became very addicted to playing Dungeon & Dragons to the point where it significantly adversely affected my grades. During those years, I bought Empire of the Petal Throne and Metamorphosis Alpha, but I never persuaded anyone to play them instead of D&D. 

AMA

Late last year, when I thought my House of Worms Empire of the Petal Throne campaign was only a few weeks from ending — shows what I know! — I mentioned that I planned to let the players ask me questions about the campaign, particularly about what things looked like “on the other side of the screen,” so to speak. I’ve always believed in a certain degree of transparency when it comes to what I do as referee. None of it is “secret knowledge,” so long as revealing it doesn’t spoil or diminish the experience of play.

Now that House of Worms has finally come to an end, I’m happy to answer any questions the players might have.

For that matter, I’m happy to answer questions from readers as well. If you’re curious about the campaign, post your questions in the comments below and I’ll do my best to respond. Some answers might be lengthy enough to warrant their own posts and that’s fine. I already have several more pieces about the campaign and its conclusion planned for the weeks ahead, so they’ll fit right in. House of Worms may have ended, but after more than a decade of regular play, there’s still plenty more to say about it.

Coda (Part III)

Startled by the vastness of the choices before them, Kirktá, Keléno, and their companions found themselves overwhelmed by questions. Sinustragán answered as best he could, his tone patient but edged with the fatigue of one who must translate Eternity into the language of mortals. Many of their inquiries simply had no answer that would make sense to minds bounded by the narrow corridors of Time. At last, with a faint smile that might have been amusement or pity, he said, “Before you lie many possibilities, though not all equally probable. Since I wish to return you to a place and a moment suited to your natures, it would help me greatly if you first chose who you wish to see seated upon the Petal Throne in that branch of the Tree of Time.”

The company fell into uneasy debate. Each of the imperial heirs had their champions and each had flaws that weighed against them. Yet, as the talk wound on, a quiet consensus began to form. Rereshqála, they agreed, was the wisest choice. He lacked the burning ambition of his brothers and sister, but in that very restraint lay his strength. Calm, judicious, and burdened with no illusions of grandeur, he seemed best suited to guide the Empire through the long twilight ahead.

He could not halt the decline of Tsolyánu – no one could, now that the One Other was free – but he might ensure that its fall was not ruin, only transformation. Under his rule, the Empire’s fragments might endure and, in some distant age, rise again to greatness.

Sinustragán inclined his head in acknowledgment of their choice. “Very well,” he said. “Now that you have decided which cluster of branches within the Tree of Time you wish to return to, we must narrow it further. What of yourselves? What do you wish for your own skeins of destiny? There are almost as many fates for each of you as there are for the scions of the Petal Throne. Which threads will you choose?”

The question hung in the air like incense smoke, curling and reforming as each of them turned it over in their minds. Once again, the hall filled with talk, earnest, uncertain, sometimes wistful, as the members of the House of Worms and their companions debated what they truly wanted. Sinustragán waited in silence, patient as the slow pulse of eternity, until at last they came to him one by one.

Grujúng spoke first. His voice was steady, almost relieved. He asked to be returned to Sokátis, where the Ranánga River wound through familiar reeds and mist. There, he wished only to fish once more, to sit among the children and grandchildren of his clan-brothers and sisters. “No more adventures,” he said. “Only peace.”

Nebússa and his wife, Srüna, wished to remain at the College and learn its secrets. Sinustragán’s eyes softened, though he shook his head. “Not yet,” he told them gently. “If this truly is your desire, you must continue your studies. Grow in wisdom and mastery. When the time is right, the College will find you again.”

Chiyé laughed and declared his intent to take the longer road to the same goal. He would become undead, he said, and persist until the End of Time itself. Sinustragán’s laughter joined his in a quiet, knowing sound. “Then I wish you patience,” he said, “for that is a very long road indeed.”

Kirktá and Nye’étha chose to travel with Nebússa and Srüna, to study beside them and strive toward that same distant calling. “Perhaps,” Kirktá said, “we may all be found worthy one day.”

Qurén wished to return to Jakálla, the City Half as Old as the World. His eyes gleamed at the thought of long-delayed work resumed, exploring the ancient Mihálli ruins as he had once been hired to do. With Rereshqála now upon the Petal Throne, perhaps the expedition would be even grander than before.

Finally, Keléno spoke. He wished to return to Sokátis with his wife, Mírsha, to restore the old gazebo in the gardens of the clanhouse. There, at sunset, he would recline with a cup of wine and a book, welcoming any friend who wished to sit beside him and talk. It was a simple dream, but in the hush that followed his words, it seemed to all of them a noble one.

Keléno made one final request. He wished to see Toneshkéthu, Sinustragán’s quiet, sharp-eyed protégée who had aided them so many times since that first, fateful meeting in the Dry Bay of Ssu’úm. How distant that day seemed now, separated from the present by so many trials, so many losses and revelations. It felt less like a memory than a dream belonging to another life. Yet the thought of her lingered and Keléno wanted to speak with her once more before their paths finally diverged.

When she entered, she was just as he remembered, composed and with a calm that seemed older than her years. Before she could greet him, Keléno reached into his travel-worn bag and drew out a small, circular device of the Ancients, the very one she had given him long ago, a tool for communication between distant minds. He turned it over once in his hand, as if feeling the weight of all that had passed since it came into his keeping, then offered it to her.

“This belongs to you,” he said.

Toneshkéthu regarded him for a moment, then smiled a small, knowing smile that held both warmth and mystery. She pushed the device gently back into his hand.

“I’d hold on to that, if I were you,” she said. “Something tells me you may need it again one day.”

T H E   E N D

Coda (Part II)

The man in the brown robe bowed his head in greeting. “I am Sinustragán Dzáshu, one of the teachers at the College.”

Keléno’s eyes lit with recognition. “So, you are Toneshkéthu’s master, then?”

A flicker of approval crossed the teacher’s face, quickly gone. He gave a short nod. “Yes and it is because of her that I have brought you here. She is very fond of you and wished no harm to come to you, so far as that can be prevented – but you cannot remain. You are neither students enrolled nor scholars invited to teach. The College has its laws and they must be kept. You must return. The only question is to where?"

Once again, Keléno and his companions found themselves unprepared. Having somehow survived their confrontation with Dhich’uné, all they longed for was safety. The College at the End of Time certainly offered that, but it was equally clear they did not belong here and, more importantly, that they would not be permitted to remain. The question was not if they must leave, but where they should ask to be sent.

Their debate circled between Sokátis, the familiar refuge of home, and Jakálla, which Qurén favored. As they argued, Sinustragán cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the stillness.

“Forgive me,” he said, “but I fear I have misled you. That is my fault. I speak as one who dwells in the College. Here, where and when are bound together in a way they are not for you. When I asked to what place you wished to return, I also meant: to what time?”

The revelation broke over them like a sudden storm, sparking another round of frantic discussion. Again the teacher raised his hand to still them.

“Remember this,” he cautioned. “We, here at the College, may walk the full span of the Tree of Time, across its trunk and down every branch. You cannot. For you, the span is limited only to the moment before you entered the passage that brought you here. I can return you to that point, but, from there, you may choose among the leaves and branches that grow from your cluster of time. And there are many.”

Sinustragán’s voice deepened as he went on.

“Consider, then, the struggle now wracking your empire. Who will claim the Petal Throne? Who shall be the first to rule Tsolyánu since the sundering of its ancient pact with the One Other? From where we stand, six futures lie before you, though some are less likely than others. All, in the end, flow toward the same sea: the dissolution of Tsolyánu. No empire endures forever. What differs is only the pace and the manner of its inevitable decline.

“If Eselné takes the throne, he will drive the Empire into a season of conquest. His banners will fly over Milumanayá, Yán Kór, parts of Salarvyá, even Mu’ugalavyá. He will forsake the seclusion of the Golden Tower, leading his armies in person, drawing comparison to Hejékka the Heretic, the last emperor to do so and a devotee of Lord Sárku ironically enough. Yet his triumphs will not last. By his grandson’s reign, rebellion and civil war will tear the Empire apart, ushering in a new Time of No Kings – an age of heroes, yes, but also of chaos.

“If Táksuru ascends, suspicion will rule. In the shadow of Dhich’uné’s example, the Omnipotent Azure Legion will turn inward, purging temples and clans alike. Paranoia will become policy. Conspiracies will breed counter-conspiracies until trust itself withers. The Empire may endure for generations, but the rot will spread, with provincial secession, foreign intrigues, and the slow crumbling of its foundations.

“If Mridóbu is crowned, the Empire will last the longest. His reign will be one of continuity and the careful preservation of institutions. Tsolyánu will remain recognizable for centuries still, secure but stagnant, its neighbors outpacing it in vigor. It will be dignified, yes, but more a monument than a power, a relic not unlike Salarvyá in your own day.

“If, unlikely though it is, Ma’ín should rise to power, hers will be the swiftest fall. She will mirror Nayári in cruelty and indulgence, but lack her predecessor's skill in rule or diplomacy. Her court will be infamous for its excess, her empire notorious for its weakness. That weakness will invite predation. Foreign armies will press from without, insurrection from within, and Tsolyánu will unravel with alarming speed.”

“Even less likely is the reign of Rereshqála, though his path is the most curious of all. His rule will be marked by duality: the attempt to preserve the old forms while softening their most oppressive burdens. He will abolish the Kólumejàlim, ending the struggle of the heirs and he will grant the Vríddi and the Ito greater autonomy. They will no longer be rivals, but vassal kings beneath the Petal Throne.

“These reforms will not save the Empire entire. Tsolyánu will still dissolve, as all things must. Yet the shape of its fall will be different. Where other futures end in ruin, his will leave behind successor realms of surprising strength, states born from his compromises. In their institutions, tempered by reform, will lie the seeds of new greatness, long after the name of Tsolyánu has passed into history.”

Turning to Kirktá, he asked, “And what of you, Kirktá? The Tree of Time does not exclude you. Your ascension to the Petal Throne is by no means improbable. Indeed, more plausible than Ma’ín’s or even Rereshqála’s. Yet every branch where you sit upon he the Petal Throne shares certain marks in common.

“In each, you are a son of Belkhánu, servant of the Excellent Dead. In each, your reign is not defined by conquest or tyranny, but by inquiry. You are no despot, no libertine; you are a scholar crowned, a seeker of truths, more given to questions than to commands. Admirable, yes, but unsuited to the endless vigilance empire demands. And so, under your gaze, Tsolyánu falters – not through malice, nor folly, but through neglect. Its decline is slower, perhaps gentler, yet decline all the same.

“I do not speak this in condemnation. The Tree shows what is likely, not what must be. But its branches whisper another possibility, namely, that your destiny may lie elsewhere than the Petal Throne. A legacy not of rule, but of meaning. The question, then, is not whether you will ascend, but whether you should.”

Coda (Part I)

Yesterday marked the end of the House of Worms Empire of the Petal Throne campaign, bringing to a close ten and a half years of regular, mostly weekly play. The true climax had come the week before, when the player characters confronted Prince Dhich’uné Tlakotáni and saw him defeated, thanks to a mix of their own prodigious efforts and the intervention of Lord Sárku, god of death and the undead. Yesterday’s session tied off the final threads of the looming Tsolyáni civil war and of what became of the characters themselves, now that they had thwarted Dhich’uné’s dream of ruling Tsolyánu forever as its undying emperor.

There’s a lot to say, both about yesterday’s session and about the campaign’s conclusion after so many years of shared play. I’ll be writing at least a couple of posts about the events of that final game, followed by more reflections on the campaign as a whole. I hope readers will forgive these indulgences. After all, not everyone knows or cares much about Tékumel. Still, I believe that, in refereeing this long-running campaign I’ve learned some lessons that may be of broader interest to roleplayers about how to create, sustain, and care for long campaigns, a subject close to my heart.

With Dhich’uné defeated and the One Other seemingly freed from its prison, the characters found themselves alone in the vast, amphitheater-like chamber beneath Avanthár. The place was now utterly silent, so silent that every footfall and movement echoed unnervingly through the space. When they had entered hours earlier, they had made no plans for escape. Indeed, most of them had expected not to survive their battle with Dhich’uné, especially once Avanthár’s ancient defenses had reawakened shortly after their arrival.

Having no obvious way out, the party began to search the chamber, hoping to uncover some hidden exit. Meanwhile, Kirktá turned his attention to the great circular prison set upon the central platform. About fifteen feet across, it was fashioned from the same strange metal-ceramic material found elsewhere in the citadel. Its smooth surface bore no markings save for a single opening that revealed a dim space beyond. When Kirktá studied it while still wearing the mask Míru had given him, he saw lingering traces of otherplanar energy clinging to the prison, though these were slowly fading. Viewed in the mirror, however, the prison was almost nonexistent, as if invisible to it.

Nebússa then proposed that they investigate the prison’s interior, reasoning that, given its strange nature and origin, it might contain something useful. Peering inside, Kirktá discovered that the space beyond was far larger than its exterior suggested. The characters had encountered transdimensional spaces before, but they had not expected one here—after all, they had assumed this was a prison, not a doorway. Stranger still, a dozen passageways stretched outward from the chamber, each receding into the distance. As Kirktá scanned them, he caught fleeting glimpses of someone at the edge of his vision. Whenever he turned to look directly, the figure slipped away, reappearing in another passage, always just beyond sight.

This was enough to intrigue the others, who decided to enter. Kirktá was alarmed, but he followed. Choosing one of the passageways, they began their journey. From one perspective, they seemed to make no progress at all—the destination ahead remained stubbornly distant no matter how far they walked. And yet, when they glanced back, the entryway behind them grew ever smaller, proof they were indeed moving forward, though in some strange, disjointed fashion. Kirktá’s mirror revealed what normal vision could not: the figure he had glimpsed was now following them, ten feet behind.

The man was middle-aged, dressed in simple brown robes, his straight hair cut in the traditional Tsolyáni style. When Keléno, using the mirror, addressed him, the figure only replied: “Keep going. You’re almost there.”

Moments later, the corridor opened suddenly into a wide garden beneath a clear blue sky. They stood near a fountain surrounded by lush plants and trees, some familiar, others alien. Around the fountain, benches were filled with people of every sort, speaking in tongues both known and unknown.

Turning in wonder, the characters found themselves face to face with the robed man. He extended his arms in welcome and said, “I was wondering when you’d arrive. Welcome to the College.”

House of Worms (March 6, 2015 – October 2, 2025)

More details in the coming days. 

Campaign Updates: Penultimate (Part III)

Grujúng and Nebússa seized their chance. For a fleeting moment, Prince Dhich'uné stood unshielded, his body and mind briefly his own. Grujúng lunged first, his weapon smashing into the prince with a resounding blow that staggered him. Nebússa followed hard on his heels, striking true and drawing another cry of pain. 

Dhich'uné did not fall. Straightening with dreadful resolve, he rose taller than before, black-green sparks crawling across his flesh, racing to seal the wounds. Behind him, the spectral silhouette that shadowed his form blazed suddenly brighter, swelling until it loomed above him like a giant. With unnatural speed, Dhich'uné lashed out at Grujúng. The strike landed with such force that Grujúng was hurled nearly twenty feet, crashing to the floor in a heap.

From across the bridge, Srüna raised the splendid eye of Krá the Mighty. Its power leapt forth, seizing the prince in an invisible grip. His body convulsed, wracked with fresh agony, yet still he fought on. Gritting his teeth, Grujúng hauled himself upright and staggered back into the fray, standing shoulder to shoulder with Nebússa against their terrible foe.

The prince’s voice thundered across the chamber, low and irresistible: “Come no further! Kneel before Us!” The words reverberated through their bones, laced with a command that was almost impossible to deny. For a heartbeat, their wills buckled, but then, with supreme effort, they pushed back the compulsion. Still, the strain was evident. How much longer could they resist the weight of his power?

As the battle continued across the platform, Kirktá and Keléno stood with their wives, paralyzed by uncertainty. From behind the mask Míru had given him, Kirktá caught sight of something strange. Along the platform’s edges, as though rising from the fathomless chasm below, threads of light began to form like a vast, spiderweb lattice, spreading with unnerving speed. The strands glowed a sickly brown-yellow, racing outward, converging toward Dhich'uné. Were they hunting him of their own accord or answering his silent command? Kirktá could not say and the doubt gnawed at him.

Behind the prince, the towering silhouette still loomed, larger than ever, but Kirktá noticed widening gaps tearing through its form. It strained, like something barely able to hold its grip upon Dhich'uné’s body. The sight brought his thoughts to the talismans Míru had given him. Perhaps the uncut black gem, which he had not thus far used, might prove important somehow.

Keléno, meanwhile, remained steadfast at his side. Shield of defense raised, he sheltered his companions against any unexpected danger. Beyond that, he had no stratagem left to offer, no secret weapon hidden away. All he could do was stand guard and whisper fervent prayers to Lord Sárku, the Five-Headed Lord of Worms, his dread patron and master of the undead. 

A stench of rot soon thickened the chamber air. From the platform’s edges, grave worms heaved themselves into view, writhing and crawling toward the fray. Then a voice arose – sepulchral, deep, and resonant enough to shake the stones of the place.

"Apostate! You were mine. Now, you are nothing. Change is the law and you would break it with your false eternity. For this, I cast you out."

Through the mask, Kirktá saw a vortex yawning open above Dhich'uné, its pull seizing the shadowy silhouette and dragging it upward, away from his body. The prince shrieked in agony, even as Grujúng and Nebússa pressed their assault, striking at him while the thing within him was torn free.

The worms quickened, swarming closer. At their advance, Dhich'uné recoiled, fear flickering across his face for the first time. While Keléno prayed fervently to Sárku, Kirktá sprinted to the platform’s center. The spectral threads binding the silhouette to the prince had stretched thin, taut and on the edge of breaking. Trusting his intuition, Kirktá drew the uncut black gem. With a swift motion, he slashed through the strands, severing them one by one.

The vortex roared, ripping the last of the shadow from Dhich'uné and devouring it. The prince collapsed, broken and gasping, left to writhe on the platform.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then the voice returned, vast and terrible.

"Do not mistake my hand for friendship. You are tools, no more. The cycle of Change endures. Pray you never draw my gaze again."

With those words, Dhich'uné’s still-twitching body convulsed. An unseen force seized him, folding him inward toward a single invisible point. His scream echoed through the chamber and then cut off abruptly as he vanished.

Campaign Updates: Penultimate (Part II)

Neither Grujúng nor Nebússa was keen to allow Dhich'uné the opportunity to act any further. They quickly began descending the stairs of the chamber, followed by Srüna. They had no clear plan how to proceed, only that, if allowed too much time to prepare, the Worm Prince would be an even greater threat than he already was. Meanwhile, Keléno made use of a scroll of shield of defense to protect himself, Kirktá, and their wives, Mírsha and Nye'étha, from any ranged attacks that might come from below. Then, they too moved downward toward the center of the chamber, albeit more cautiously than the others.

Dhich'uné took note of the rapid descent of Grujúng, Nebússa, and Srüna, shouting to Kirktá, "Call off your attack animals or I shall be forced to do so myself – and I will not be as gentle as you would be, brother." Upon hearing that, the trio slowed their movement but did not stop completely. Seemingly satisfied, Dhich'uné explained, "Once, I believed I must sit upon the Petal Throne only to die, my blood poured out under a knife wielded by you, in order to seal a new pact with the One Other. I now know that was folly. So crude a sacrifice was never required. Not blood, nor flesh – only preparation.”

At this, Kirktá and then the others noticed that Dhich'uné's body was surrounded by a black-green silhouette, like another version of himself, only larger and that seemed to fade in and out of sight. Kirktá, still under the effects of the seeing other planes spell he'd cast in the previous room, also saw something else. This silhouette was wrapped around Dhich'uné's limbs and head, pulling at them and perhaps even controlling him. It was as if there were a hidden puppeteer at work. The silhouette possessed moments of iridescence, along with gaps in its strange substance. The gaps looked like holes in worn cloth, with only "strands" connecting it to Dhich'uné in places.

Dhich'uné continued, 

“Years I gave to Sárku, years hollowing myself of every weakness, every desire, even of life itself. I thought I was to become his vessel, his undying emperor. But no: all that time, I was shaping myself for another, greater patron. The One Other has chosen me not as sacrifice but as a partner. Together, we shall reign without end. The empire eternal. The dream perfected. Tsolyánu unchanging.”

Needless to say, this admission terrified the characters. They suspected that Dhich'uné had altered his original plans and now had some new scheme in mind. Yet they never once suspected that he might abandon Lord Sárku, the god to whom he had dedicated his life up to this point, and seek to join rather than control the One Other, with the pariah god as his eternal co-ruler over Tsolyánu. More than ever, they knew he had to be defeated.

Grujúng and Nebússa crossed one of the bridges leading to the central platform where Dhich'uné stood. They were still about 50' from him, just about within sprinting range. Srüna stayed on the other side of the bridge, her splendid eye of Krá the Mighty at the ready. Kirktá and the others similarly stayed on the far side of the chasm separating the platform from the ground floor of the chamber. From there, it was obvious that the large circular object near Dhich'uné was likely the prison of the One Other, now open. The characters had seen it in one of the "windows" they encountered earlier in Avanthár, windows that looked to reveal the future or perhaps possible futures. 

Kirktá then put on the mask he had been given by Míru, the mysterious priest of the One Other who had inexplicably aided him in recent weeks. The mask revealed yet more about the strange silhouette that surrounded Dhich'uné, in particular that it was simultaneously growing in strength and intensity but also straining against its connection to the Worm Prince's mortal form. The holes seen earlier were larger now, even as the silhouette looked more potent than ever.

Dhich'uné yelled out, “I — We — have surpassed all need for the old ways. This new pact is stronger, perfected. They bound Us, long ago, in chains of memory. But all chains rust, all chains break.” Every time Dhich'uné spoke, another voice reverberated under his own, becoming stronger and louder. Whenever he attempted to say "I" or "me," another voice drowned him out, saying "we" or "us" in a voice filled with fury and hatred. “They shall pay. They shall all pay. The First Tlakotáni stole Our freedom and now thinks We will be satisfied with its mere restoration. No, his descendants have fattened on Our silence. Now We break that silence. Now We will break all!”

Yet, something of Dhich'uné's own ego and arrogance remained. Doubled over in pain, grabbing his head, he wrestled with the One Other's increasing control, “No! Not destroy. Preserve! Rule forever! Eternal Tsolyánu. Eternal throne. I — We — I —” Dhich'uné's body was now wracked with pain and contorted in unnatural ways. Black-green sparks of otherplanar energy snaked across him. “Enough! We are no emperor’s slave. We are no ornament for the Petal Throne. We are vengeance unquenched! Rivers will boil, temples will sink, streets will drown in silence. We will unmake this empire of thieves. We will bind this land as it once bound Us!”

Now on his knees, Dhich'uné extended his hand in the direction of Kirktá, his face and his voice, for a brief moment, solely his own, "Brother, end it ..."

Campaign Updates: Penultimate (Part I)

As I briefly stated yesterday, my House of Worms Empire of the Petal Throne campaign had its penultimate session yesterday – penultimate, not ultimate. The final session will, in fact, be next week, as we try to wrap up (to the extent that it's possible after more than ten and a half years of regular play) the remaining threads of the Tsolyáni succession crisis and incipient civil war. That's probably as good a point as any to end the campaign. After the heights of imperial power politics and the cosmic threat of a pariah god, I'm not certain there's anywhere for House of Worms to go but down. Better to end on a high note. Plus, the truth is, after more than a decade, we're all a little tired and could probably use a change of scenery, so to speak, even if I'm still unsure that the campaign begun in its wake could ever live up to this one.

The characters had, for several sessions, been working their way through the bowels of Avanthár, the seat of Tsolyáni power north of the capital city of Béy Sü. Avanthár is often called a "citadel" and it is, but it's also a very ancient military installation dating back to before the Time of Darkness. It's filled with millennia's worth of technological and magical defenses intended to impede anyone's attempts to infiltrate it. Consequently, the characters had their work cut out for them, as they contended with all manner of unexpected and deadly wards, traps, and obstacles. Fortunately, they'd been aided by Prince Táksuru, one of the contenders for the Petal Throne, who provided them with certain aids in their quest. Likewise, Kirktá had been gifted with several artifacts by Míru, a servant of the One Other posing as a priest of Belkhánu. Like the First Tlakotáni, he wanted to see the pariah god freed from captivity beneath Avanthár.

The characters knew that Prince Dhich'uné was already ahead of them, making his way to the prison of the One Other, in hopes of establishing a new pact with the god. How he intended to do this was uncertain, since, so far as they understood things, Dhich'uné needed to be emperor before he could offer his spirit-soul to the One Other in exchange for eternal rule over Tsolyánu. Clearly, he had some kind of back-up plan or alternative scheme, one that didn't require either his victory in the Kólumejàlim or the involvement of Kirktá, who had been trained in his youth for the purpose of aiding Dhich'uné in his goals – or so he said at any rate.

Moving expeditiously from the last room they had explored, they came across a set of sliding doors that looked as if they had been partially forced open. Strange black-green fungus covered part of the door and had begun to slowly spread into the one where the characters now were. Peering into the next room, Nebússa and Kirktá could see that it was a large, circular chamber. The fungus was everywhere within. Along the curve of one wall, there was an opening, like a door. A large "plug" made of the strange ceramic/metal material of the Ancients lay shattered on the ground. The plug was covered in strange symbols and was slowly breaking down. Under the effects of the seeing other planes spell, Kirktá saw a strange creature whose shape constantly shifted forms – one minute an insect, another a reptile, another a cephalopod, and so on – smashing up the bits of the plug.

Grujúng felt the time to act was now. He leapt into the room, weapon drawn. His appearance drew the attention of the creature, which flew/crawled/ran toward him, shifting between its various forms. He could not see it, however; its otherplanar nature made it largely invisible to normal sight. Nevertheless, as he felt its presence, he swung at it with his enchanted blade, striking it. For a moment, it phased into existence before disappearing again. Nebússa joined him, followed by his wife, Srüna. Soon, the other characters joined them. Nebússa, using the sword of the Ancients he acquired some time ago, likewise struck at the beast. Srüna, however, cast a spell of paralysis, which – surprisingly – worked, freezing the creature in place. The others then made short work of it. Upon its destruction, it faded away, as if it had never existed.

From the open portal once blocked by the plug, the characters could see more black-green fungus and flashes of similarly colored light. They made their way toward the opening and looked inside. There they saw another immense room, arranged like an amphitheater made of the same ceramic/metal material as the plug. Arrayed around the topmost level of the amphitheater were large statues depicting human figures in metal armor of a sort that reminded the characters of the Ru'ún, the artificial servants of the Ancients. At the bottom of the amphitheater was a circular platform, perhaps 100' across, separated from the floor by a 20'-wide chasm. Four bridges enabled passage from the floor to the platform, upon which rested a large circular object with a door on its side. The door was wide open and a robed figured stood beside it.

Upon seeing the characters, the figure called out in a loud voice, "You have come too late, brother. I have seen the truth."

Dhich'uné is Dead

The penultimate session of the House of Worms campaign wrapped just minutes ago, with the defeat of Prince Dhich'uné within the bowels of Avanthár. Next week will see the campaign conclude after ten and a half years.

I'll do a fuller write-up of today's events later, but I felt the need to share this momentous occasion.

Campaign Updates: Catching Up

Lest anyone be concerned: all three of the ongoing campaigns I'm currently refereeing continue, but I simply haven't had the time to write any posts providing updates of what's happening in each of them until now. In fact, so many sessions have occurred since my last update that this post is going to gloss over some of the finer details in the interests of brevity. I suspect few readers will mind. However, if there's something that's unclear or about which you wish to know more, leave a comment and I'll do my best to answer your query. 

Barrett's Raiders

Despite Michael's admonitions, Vadim revealed to Lt. Col. Orlowski the truth about his background and his connection to Michael. Strictly, he was not a prisoner of war but a military defector. A doctor by training, Vadim had been drafted to serve in a unit of the Red Army's chemical troops. While there, he learned of a project to unleash a cereal crop pathogen on the United States with the intention of fostering famine and civil unrest. As a doctor and man of conscience, Vadim saw this as a war crime in the making. He used his rank and position to obtain copies of certain documents pertaining to this project and fled his unit, hoping to make contact with someone in the West to whom he might give this information.

That contact turned out to be Michael, a deep cover CIA agent in Eastern Poland, who immediately recognized the value of the documents Vadim possessed. He promised to get Vadim first to safety, the GRU hot on his heels, and then to American lines, so that his information might be put to good use. Now that they were both on the other side of the Atlantic, Vadim felt it was the time to reveal what he knew and make every effort to aid American officials – military or civilian – who could make good use of it. 

This conviction is at the root of a conflict within the characters' unit. As a CIA agent, Michael is pledged to support President Broward and his government in Omaha. Though traveling with soldiers loyal to USMEA, his ultimate loyalty lies with the reconstituted civilian authority of the USA. Orlowski has tolerated Michael's position, because of how steadfastly he had aided his men in Poland and, truth be told, harbors some qualms about USMEA himself. At the same time, he is not interested in going out of his way to cross his superior officers or otherwise do anything to undermine them. 

Vadim is likewise grateful to Michael for his aid in getting him to America. Though now an American citizen under the provisions of AR 000-00 as adjudicated by V Corps HQ, he cared little for the politics of the post-war USA. From his perspective, all he wished to do was share his documents widely with as many people as possible, in the hope that they could counter the pathogen and spare America from famine at this critical moment. On this point, he was adamant.

Col. Franks, CO of Fort Pickett, recommended that Orlowski and his unit seek out Oak Ridge National Laboratory in Tennessee. That's where many of the scientists and doctors from Fort Detrick were transferred after the nuclear attack on DC and Maryland in 1997. If anyone could make good use of Vadim's information, it was them. To calm Michael, Orlowski authorized the creation of a copy of Vadim's notes, so that they could be shared with whomever he wishes. At that, the unit then set off west toward Oak Ridge.

Dolmenwood

The characters set off into the region of the swamp known as the Flotsam Pools, after all the small pools of strange debris that had arisen along the banks of the nearby river. Led by Waldra, they made good progress through this unpleasant terrain before a group of bog corpses appeared. Lumbering through the muck, they attacked the group. Sir Clement leapt into action and handled the bulk of these foul undead, while his companions kept at a distance and attacked with missiles. The menace defeated, Waldra and her blood hound (Joremey) picked up the sent of Emelda, which led them to a strange hut by the river.

Exploring the hut, which sat on stilts, neither Alvie nor Marid found any evidence of Emelda. In fact, they found very little evidence of anything other than the possessions of an aristocrat down on his luck. Not long thereafter, an elderly longhorn Breggle appeared, advancing through the river's water. Identifying himself as Sir Tekwell Onehorn (on account of his single horn), he claimed to be living in seclusion, lest his "many admirers" continue to harry him. When asked about Emelda or the Hag, he was evasive, leading Sir Clement to be suspicious of him.

Eventually, Tekwell offered to lead the characters to the borders of the Hag's domain, the location of which he admitted under some duress. Approaching that locale, with its green mist and strange sounds, the characters were beset by black tentacles that seemingly grew from the ground, trying to snatch them. Tekwell was an early victim of the tentacles but, fortunately for him, Sir Clement bore no grudge against him. With the help of his companions, the tentacles were defeated and Tekwell saved. The grateful Breggle then admitted that he had not come to the swamp to avoid his celebrity but because he'd fallen from grace in service to a high Breggle lord. Inspired by Clement's bravery, he vowed to lead them directly to the Hag, which he did.

The Hag's dwelling was a floating hut, guarded by two ogres. Sir Clement challenged them to a fight, which they accepted. Initially, the fight went badly for Clement, despite the assistance of his comrades. However, Tekwell proved surprisingly effective and played a major role in slaying both the ogres. Next, the characters decided they needed to find a way into the hut, since it was some 10 feet above them. Clement placed Alvie on his shoulders, who attempted to reach and open the door through the use of a rope.

Just as he did so, the Hag opened the door, her eyes goggling. She looked down at Alvie and smiled, "Thief-son, you may come in. The rest of you, begone!" Reluctantly, Alvie agreed to enter, surreptitiously tying his rope to the handle of the hut's door. Just as he entered, Sir Clement grabbed Marid and threw the grimalkin enchanter headlong into the Hag's home, just as its door slammed shut.

House of Worms

Táksuru had not only sent the characters on their way to Avanthár but also provided them with an ancient device that would temporarily deactivate some of its external defenses, allowing them to make use of an auxiliary entrance. Once inside, however, the defenses would soon reactivate and they would not be able to leave by the same means. This was a one-way trip into one of the most well protected and secret locales in all of Tsolyánu, perhaps all of Tékumel. The only way out was through. One way or another, the members of the House of Worms clan would soon end their adventures.

The auxiliary entrance was located inside a rise near the Mssúma River, well hidden except to those, like the characters, who knew of its presence. Kirktá made use of the device Táksuru had given them, which opened a door disguised as a rockface. Beyond was a huge, vaulted chamber overgrown with weird vegetation. Everywhere were small pillars made of a strange crystalline material. Above, portions of the ceiling flickered with peculiar lighting – a reminder that Avanthár had once been some kind of fortress from the Ancients and would undoubtedly contain many examples of technology from before the Time of Darkness.

Thus began an extensive exploration of these forgotten, subterranean levels of Avanthár, in the hopes of locating the prison of the One Other, assuming it even existed. The characters then proceeded to move carefully from one chamber to another, ever mindful of the dangers they might encounter. One room contained a series of "windows" that seem to depict possible/alternate futures, not all of them pleasant. Another housed shadowy reflections of the characters lying in ambush. And another still seemed to be an armory or repository of some kind. For the most part, the characters avoided doing anything too bold in these chambers, lest they activate a trap or defense mechanism of some kind.

Eventually, though, their luck ran out and they came to a hallway with an energy barrier that allowed on Kirktá to pass through it. A voice in an ancient tongue – translated by an eye of incomparable understanding – stated the following if anyone else attempted this, "Incompatible genetic signature. Further access denied." Clearly, at least some of Avanthár was keyed to Tlakotáni DNA, meaning only Kirktá could proceed. This was not really an option, so much time was spent trying to determine a way to circumvent the system. They eventually succeeded in this and continued to advance.

One of the more worrisome aspects of their advance was the discovery, in multiple places, that Prince Dhich'uné was already in Avanthár himself, possibly racing toward the same destination ahead of them. Dead Sárku troops attested to this, as did the charred body of Jayárgo, Dhich'uné's top lieutenant. As the characters pondered this, they realized that it made sense Dhich'úne was already here, as he had been conspicuously absent in Béy Sü during the build-up of Eselné's troops. Clearly, Dhich'uné felt that the real battle was here, beneath the emperor's palace and that nothing less than reaching the prison of the One Other would secure the Petal Throne. Needless to say, the characters soon hastened their steps.

Campaign Updates: Ghosts of the Past

All three campaigns have been forging ahead into new areas, most especially House of Worms, which is rapidly nearing its ultimate conclusion after a decade and a half of regular play. Though I can't say for certain when the End will finally come, I feel pretty confident in predicting that things will wrap up by the end of the summer at the absolute latest. 

Barrett's Raiders

Having left Fort Lee after several days there, Military Liaison Group 7 once again took to the highways, heading in the direction of Fort Pickett, their next designated stop. Upon arrival, the comparison between the two USMEA bases couldn't have been starker. Where Fort Lee had multiple blockades and checkpoints, as well as a large refugee zone outside its walls, Fort Pickett had none of this. The characters' vehicles were inspected at the gate and, once Col. Orlowski identified himself and explained they'd been sent by USMEA command in Norfolk, they were directed to the security office. There, they signed in, received their visitor badges, and given further directions to the office of the commanding office, Col. Edward Franks.

The name of the CO was familiar to Lt. Tom Cody. He'd served with Franks in the infantry before the war, though, at that time, he was a captain. Franks was pleased to see Cody, though he was more than a little shocked to see him wearing lieutenant's bars. Cody explained the circumstances of his field promotion and the two caught up on what they'd been doing since they last served together. Franks soon showed himself to be a fairly no-nonsense officer who didn't place much stock in formalities. He also suggested that he'd heard about events at Fort Lee, intimating that he didn't think much of its CO, General Summers, whom he referred to as a "desk general."

Col. Franks then offered to assist MLG-7 in any way that he could. Orlowski explained they were simply passing through before heading north toward their ultimate destination at Fort Meade. Franks laughed at this, saying that only USMEA would send them west so that they could go north. Orlowski did his best not to speak poorly of his superiors in reply. Franks then asked if he could ask a favor of MLG-7. He said that some of his winter grain supplies, sent in from western Virginia, had been spoiling at an unusually quick rate. The same was true of several other USMEA bases. He asked Col. Orlowski if he and his men would keep an eye out for any information about this as they traveled.

Orlowski agreed to do so and Frank added that he'd put them in touch with some of his medical staff and agronomists. They would brief MLG-7 on the nature of this strange affliction, in the hopes that it might help them in their own investigation. Once Orlowski returned to the others and explained what Franks had told him, Vadim stepped forward and announced, "This looks like the effects of a Soviet bioweapon." Before Orlowski had a chance to respond, Michael stepped forward and said, "I don't think you should be saying any more about this. The Colonel isn't cleared for that." 

Dolmenwood

Father Horsely directed the characters to the Merry Mendicant Inn as a place to stay the night. The characters made their way there and took several rooms for the night, with Falin sharing a room with Emelda, in order to be certain that nothing ill befell her during the night. Unfortunately, that proved insufficient protection. In the morning, Emelda was nowhere to be seen and there was no evidence that she'd left the room either by the front door or the window. 

The characters split up, looking throughout the Woodcutters' Encampment for signs of Emelda. One group interrogated the inn's proprietress, who explained that, during the night, a "strange woman with eyes like saucers" did come into the common room. She said nothing and everyone steered clear of her on account of the "odd feeling" she engendered upon any he looked at her. The woman spent maybe 10 or 15 minutes in the common room, staring at the stairs leading to the sleeping quarters before leaving as mysteriously as she came. Meanwhile, another group questioned the town guard, who did not see Emelda during the night, because they were too busy fending off an attack by "bog corpses" – dead bodies reanimated by black magic that sometimes wander into the Camp.

In combination, this convinced Waldra that something unpleasant had happened while they were asleep. Talking to Father Horsely revealed that the woodcutters have legends about "the Hag," a repulsively ugly old woman who was once a fairy princess, the sister of the Queen of Blackbirds, in fact. For her obsession with meddling in mortal affairs and interest in death and decay, she was cursed to age but never die. Exiled from Fairy, she now dwelt among the mortals that so interested her, where she has since been a source of much mischief. Of course, Father Horsely didn't believe in the existence of the Hag. Waldra, however, wasn't so sure. Indeed, she began to worry that perhaps the Hag was responsible for the disappearance of Emelda, either for her own purposes or to use as a bargaining chip in trying to lift the curse her sister had placed upon her.

House of Worms

Chiyé's summoning of the spirit of the First Tlakotáni, the founder of Tsolyánu more than two millennia ago, worked surprisingly well. This worried Chiyé somewhat, as his sorcery usually could not conjure the spirit of one so long dead. By all rights, their spirit-soul should have passed either to the Isles of Teretané or to one of the various hells of the gods to punish those who'd transgressed their laws. The Tlakotáni explained that Chiyé was indeed correct in his assumption, but that, in his case, his spirit lingered as a consequence of the pact he made with the One Other so long ago. Much like the One Other himself, he was bound to Tékumel. In fact, his fate was linked to that of the One Other. So long as the one remained bound, so too would the other.

That is why he begged the characters to free the One Other. Only by doing so could Tsolyánu be freed from the dire consequences of his arrogance. The First Tlakotáni explained that he had hoped, by using ancient Llyáni rights, to force the One Other to protect Avanthár and, by extension, Tsolyánu from ever falling. His desire to ensure the empire he had founded would never suffer the fate of Engsvanyálu before it had blinded him to the fact that doing so would ossify Tsolyánu forever. His empire would never fall, it's true, but neither would it change or improve. It would be trapped in a kind of living death, one where stability and tradition stifled creativity and growth. The time had come for History to reassert itself, for the One Other to be freed.

Needless to say, this thought concerned the characters, but, after some discussion, they realized that this was a gamble they were willing to take. Better to end the connection between the One Other and Avanthár than to see either Dhich'uné ascend the Petal Throne through trickery or Eselné to do so through violence. They then sought out Prince Táksuru, told him what they had learned, and asked for his aid. Though reluctant at first, he agreed to assist them, calling upon his contacts within the Temple of Ksárul to open a nexus point just outside of Avanthár, one close to a hidden entrance into the ancient fortress. He also provided them with a device that would temporarily suspend its defenses to allow entrance. Once inside, though, they were on their own and would have to find a way past its many guardians to locate the supposed prison of the One Other – if it even existed.

Táksuru bid them farewell. He stated that he did not expect to see them again and prayed that the Weaver of Skeins would smile upon their efforts. What they were attempting was madness, but, given that Tsolyánu was currently waiting to see which of two madmen might become its new emperor, perhaps there was no other way. For his part, Nebússa said that, if they should fail, it was up to Táksuru to carry the day. He felt the young man would make a fine successor to his father, Hirkáne. With that, the characters stepped through the nexus point.

Campaign Updates: Into the Woods

After a few weeks when the frequency of the Dolmenwood campaign was more sporadic than it had been in the past, we seem to be back on track. Meanwhile, the House of Worms and Barrett's Raiders campaigns continue to barrel along, with the former rapidly heading toward what is soon likely to be the consummation of more than ten years of play. 

Barrett's Raiders

The next scheduled supply run was in the late afternoon of December 7, 2000 – the date on which MLG-7 told General Summers they'd be leaving Fort Lee to head westward to Fort Pickett. Since Lt. Col. Orlowski doesn't like leaving work half-done, he decided it would be in the best interests of everyone involved if he and his unit made sure that no more supplies from the base were being funneled to New America. To that end, he asked Corporal Forest to accompany Specialist Huxley on the run. Meanwhile, other members of the unit would scout ahead, checking out the area where the hand-offs of supplies had been happening in the past, in order to be prepared.

The scouting party consisted of Lt. Cody, Sgt. McLeod, Michael, and Radosław. According to Huxley, the hand-offs happened near a side road accessible from the highway. The side road led to several industrial parks, where small businesses of various sorts were located. Most of the businesses looked to have been looted some time ago. Cody and McLeod split off to look more closely at these parks, while Michael and Radosław headed further down the road. One of the industrial parks contained a self-storage facility whose door was closed. Two men in an irregular mix of civilian and military garb, armed with rifles, stood near it. Further down the road was a large, concrete building that was apparently part of the local water authority. Michael observed two men with rifles patrolling that area as well.

The two groups radioed back to Orlowski, who told them to keep observing the guards. Once the supply truck arrived, there'd be a delay of a couple of minutes before the rest of MLG-7 arrived in their vehicles to prevent the escape of the guards and, presumably, anyone else associated with the hand-offs to New America. Everything more or less went as planned. The supply truck arrived at its designated spot near the side road. Shortly thereafter, five men, led by Denny Lagrange, appeared, with the goal of removing a couple of crates from the truck. This time, however, MLG-7 showed up, firing a warning shot from one of its vehicles. Lagrange and his men quickly surrendered.

The sound of the shot alerted the guards at the self-storage. One of them opened up a shed, went inside, and then, after a couple of minutes emerged. He then carefully closed the shed and the pair fled. Cody and McLeod shadowed them from a distance. To prevent the guards' from revealing anything to others, Sgt. Farley jammed their walkie-talkies. Cody alerted Michael and Radosław about the guards coming their way. They then laid in wait to surprise and capture them. Then, all four members of MLG-7 worked together to do the same to the guards at the water authority building. This left only their boss, a man called Layton, inside. He surrendered without a fight, just like the others. With all ten men captured, Lt. Col. Orlowski decided to return to Fort Lee so that they could be processed and interrogated.

Dolmenwood

With Emelda Wishorn now safely in their care, the question back what to do next. While Sir Clement thought that now was the time to confront Lord Malbleat and denounce him for his nefarious crimes, his companions were none too sanguine about the prospects of that working. Instead, it was suggested that perhaps it might be best for all concerned, especially Emelda, to flee the area of the Shadholme Lodge and head eastward toward Castle Brackenwold, with the goal of seeking the protection of the duke or some other powerful figure (perhaps Abbot Nedwynne?). 

Everyone agreed this was the best solution and, after a quick visit to Sir Clement's pavilion on the festival field, they departed, bringing everyone, including Sidley Fraggleton with them. Sidely desperately wanted to escape his impending nuptials to Celenia Candleswick, as well as evade the tender mercies of Sir Shank Weavilman, who had taken an intense dislike to him. In Sidley's mind, being on the run from Lord Malbleat was preferrable to that fate.

The plan was to avoid using the Ditchway road east, since, if Malbleat wanted to overtake them, it would be much easier to do so. Instead, they would brave the forest and marshes to the east, hoping to make their way to the Woodcutters' Encampment on the verge of Hag's Addle as a stopping-off point before continuing to Brackenwold. Waldra, in her travels, was somewhat familiar with the Camp and its people, so she suggested it would be a reasonably safe place to rest before resuming their journey to Castle Brackenwold. 

Along the way, the group traveled through an area reputedly inhabited by a murderous magician, another infested with the feared nightworms, and another containing trees ravaged by a recent fire. While all of these could well have been worthy of closer investigation, Waldra instead kept her companions moving forward. She did not want to slow down, lest Lord Malbleat's servants – if indeed they were coming – any opportunity to capture them. Just before nightfall, they reached the marshes outside the Camp, where the local vicar, Father Horsely, was out foraging for herbs with his dog, Clewyd. He welcomed them and accompanied back to the settlement, offering to find them a place to stay for the night.

House of Worms

With Prince Eselné's attack on Béy Sü's Temple of Sárku to begin at first light of the next day, it became ever more urgent that Kirktá figure out just what the seven items left to him by Míru did and how they might be useful in dealing with the problems at hand. Nebússa, in particular, was very keen that this matter be resolved and resolved quickly, since there was no longer much time left to investigate. Up till now, they had the luxury of being able to take their time and put things off until later. Now, they had to act. The very fate of Tsolyánu – and their place within it – hung in the balance.

One of the first items to which Kirktá and Keléno devote any effort is the thin scroll of leather that is warm to the touch and gently pulsating. After some experimentation, it becomes clear that the scroll is keyed to the thoughts of the person(s) looking at it. Any text the viewer knows to exist appears in full on the scroll, even if it's something he cannot read. The funerary mask, when placed in front of one's face, generates a low hum that affects the wearer's vision, hearing, and sense of touch, causing pain that increases over time. Kirktá eventually took it off once the pain began to induce actual physical damage to him. 

The amount of time spent experimenting with just these two items began to frustrate Nebússa, who repeatedly suggested that they needed to focus more deliberately on figuring out what all of the items did. Míru had clearly set them aside for a purpose. What was it? This led to much discussion – some of it paranoid – about whether or not Míru, as a secret priest of the One Other, had an ulterior motive in giving these items to Kirktá. What if he hoped he'd use them in a way that benefited the pariah god whom he served? Nebússa would have none of this. "Leave paranoia to the professionals," he joked.

That's when the group turned its attention to the mummified finger kept within a reliquary. Chiyé, as a lay priest of Sárku, could communicate with the dead, so long as he had the person's body or a part of it present. Why not use his sorcery to talk to whoever the finger belonged to? Perhaps he or she could shed some light on many of the questions that so vexed them? With everyone's agreement, Chiyé performed the necessary rituals and contacted the spirit-soul of the person whose finger it was – the First Tlakotáni, founder of Tsolyánu and the mysterious man who supposedly entered into a pact with the One Other millennia ago. If anyone could give them some answers, it was probably him ...

The Petal Throne Has Thorns

Recently, I sent a message to the players on our House of Worms campaign Discord server. It was, in essence, a warning.

This is not meant to frighten anyone.

Now that I've succeeded in frightening everyone, here it is: From this point on in the campaign, the gloves are off. 

By that I mean, we're nearing the End and that means anything can happen, including characters dying. Obviously, there are means to bring them back cough, *cough, cough Aíthfo* but there's no guarantee of that, especially given how things are going. I bring this up only because I'm committed to the campaign's conclusion being a tense and uncertain one in every way. Though I've never held back in letting the dice fall where they may *cough, cough, Aíthfo*, things may nevertheless get even nastier than they ever have before and I feel an obligation to remind everyone that no one has Plot Armor.

Have a nice day. 😊

It’s a bit tongue-in-cheek, but the underlying message is serious: after more than a decade of weekly play, the House of Worms campaign is approaching its conclusion. The characters, most of whom have been in play for years, are not guaranteed a happy ending, let alone a heroic one. They can fail. They can die. They might even die pointlessly, offhandedly, from a bad roll at the wrong moment.

That’s all par for the course in a proper old school RPG campaign, of course, but I felt compelled to remind the players. As I’ve likely said many times over the years, House of Worms is light on dice rolls outside of combat and combat itself is rare outside the underworld. Most sessions consist almost entirely of roleplaying in one form or another and the players are very good at it. More often than not, they resolve their problems through conversation, manipulation, and clever schemes rather than through swordplay or spellcraft. Much as I love that – and I do, given my longstanding dislike of combat – I sometimes worry it’s made them a little too comfortable. A little too safe.

From what I read online and have sometimes even observed "in the wild," there's a tacit expectation in a lot of contemporary gaming circles that player characters are protagonists will, therefore, reach the end of a campaign. They might suffer, they might be scarred, but they'll get there. There's an implicit contract between referee and player that, so long as you show up and play your character, you'll at least survive to the final scene. Old school play usually doesn't work out that way and, at least in my interpretation of it, Tékumel especially doesn’t work that way.

Tékumel is a setting where the gods are real, inscrutable, and often indifferent. It's a place of Byzantine scheming, hidden pacts, and ancient horrors. A misplaced word or an ill-advised alliance can unravel everything you've worked toward – and that’s glorious. As I conceive it, a Tékumel campaign should end the way it began: full of mystery, danger, and unpredictability. There's n script; there’s no "true ending." There's only what the players do and what the dice say about it.

I've always tried to referee the House of Worms campaign in a way that respects the players' choices – as well as the consequences of those choices. That doesn’t mean I'm out to kill their characters for shock value or for sport. However, it does mean that no character is safe just because they’re "important." If anything, being important only puts a larger target on a character's back. Indeed, that's been the pattern of this campaign since its inception in March 2015: each time the characters succeed, there's been an escalation in the stakes and the strength of the opposition. Where once they contended with local matters of small moment, now they're at the very heart of an imperial succession crisis, one that involves not just earthly power politics but the machinations of gods and demons. 

In playing House of Worms, what I’ve come to appreciate most about it and, by extension old school RPG campaigns more generally, is their fragility. There’s no safety net, no rewind button. The stakes are real and when the players realize that, when they know the character they've played for literally years could disappear into the void at any moment, the impact on play is considerable. That’s when the game transcends mere mechanics and becomes something else: a shared experience of genuine risk and reward.

So yes, the gloves are off, but they were never really on to begin with.

Have a nice day. 😊

War!

As you can probably tell from both of my earlier posts today, there are soon going to be some large, pitched battles in my House of Worms Empire of the Petal Throne campaign. This isn't something I'd imagined some months ago, when we began entering the final stages of the campaign, but here we are. This turn of events makes sense, of course, given the way events are unfolding. However, I can't deny that this prospect fills me with a bit of apprehension. As I've said on many occasions over the years, I've never been a wargamer of any kind, despite my fascination with and some knowledge of military matters. I say this with some regret, both because this lacuna in my game education has no doubt skewed my perspective on certain things and because it leaves me somewhat at loss in knowing how to handle occasions of mass combat within a RPG.

That's why I'm turning to you, my readers, for thoughts and suggestions on how you have handled wars and large-scale battles in your roleplaying game campaigns. What rules or approaches did you use and how well did they work? Did they mesh well with the RPG you were playing? I'm honestly curious about every aspect of this question, since I have such limited experience with it in my own campaigns and would appreciate learning from those of you who've successfully incorporated mass combat into yours. 

That said, I should make a few things clear about my own preferences as a referee. Between my dislike of combat as an activity in itself and my feeling that most RPGs have too many rules, I have a natural aversion to any kind of mass combat system that plays out like a wargame. If I wanted to play a wargame, I'd play a wargame. What I want – and this may be impossible – is a solution that doesn't require me or the players to learn a whole new set of rules to simulate their characters' involvement in a big battle. Additionally, I'd like for what the characters do to have an effect on the outcome of the battle, even if they're not directly involved in everything that happens. I realize this is likely asking a lot, but I have lots of smart and knowledgeable readers, so maybe one of you can point me in the right direction.

To date, the only RPG I've ever played that had a decent set of mass combat rules was Pendragon and, even there, I wasn't wholly satisfied with the results. The main virtue of Pendragon was that the participation of the player characters still used the standard combat rules and the results of their individual battles had some impact on the final outcome of a larger fight. I didn't have to keep track of lots of wargame-y rules to adjudicate the battle satisfactorily. That's more or less what I want here, though, as I said, I may be asking for too much. 

Your thoughts on this matter are thus greatly appreciated. 

The Battle of Béy Sü

From an address by Prince Eselné Tlakotáni to his legions on the steps of the Palace of War just prior to commencing their assault on the Temple of Sárku (13 Fésru 2360 A.S.): 

 "I will not lie to you. This path I have chosen leads into fire. There will be war. Blood in the streets. Temples razed, banners burned, clans shattered. I do not deny it: I expect it."

"But we must walk it anyway."

"For too long, we have whispered that Tsolyánu is 'eternal,' not because she is strong, but because we fear what will happen if she changes. We call her 'timeless' when what we really mean is stagnant. We call her 'harmonious' when what we really mean is choked. We call her 'pious' while we let the temples devour her from within."

"We have smoothed over every fracture with ritual. Buried every danger beneath scrolls. We’ve let the high clans rot behind lacquered gates and the bureaucrats nest like syúsyu-lizards in the rafters of the Golden Tower. And when the choosing of an emperor becomes not a moment of clarity, but a pageant of manipulation, then we are no longer ruled by 'tradition.' We are ruled by cowardice dressed in antique finery."

"I am not a reformer. I am not a philosopher. I am a soldier. I know what war looks like — and still I choose it."

"Béy Sü is nearly four hundred years overdue for Ditlána. Every brick in this city knows it. But perhaps it is not just Béy Sü that must be razed and reborn. Perhaps the whole Empire must be broken, so it can live again."

"If that is madness, then better a madman with clean hands than another schemer who calls ruin peace."

Campaign Updates: Two for the Road

That "real life" thing that I'm sure everyone has heard of does indeed exist and it's been keeping me busy over the last few weeks. It's apparently been doing the same thing to a lot of my players, too, hence my current campaigns have convened fewer times than I had hoped. Nevertheless, we did play several sessions of both Barrett's Raiders and House of Worms. Dolmenwood, alas, remains in a brief stasis; with luck, it will resume this week. In the meantime, here's the latest news from both Fort Lee, Virginia and Béy Sü, Tsolyánu:

Barrett's Raiders

Armed with Specialist Huxley's confession, Major Hunter decided that now was the time to approach both Lt. Nolan Bennett in logistics, along with his superior, Captain Reginald Tolen. She started with Bennett, who attempted to obfuscate the issues at hand, claiming that any irregularities could be chalked up to simple "clerical error" and the stress of trying to operate a military base "under difficult conditions." Hunter then confronted him with what Huxley told her, which cause Bennett to take a different tack. He admitted that Tolen probably had a hand in what's happening, but assured her that it's because "the captain's a good guy" who's "just trying to help people anyway he can." There's nothing sinister in it and it'd be a mistake to expose Tolen, since it'd probably land him in the stockade.

Hunter suspected this still wasn't the whole truth. She used other evidence she'd collected from paperwork and reports to demonstrate that Bennett himself must have been involved too. Bennett made a few more attempts to weasel out of these accusations before admitting that, yes, he'd used both Tolen and Huxley for his own betterment. He'd been contacted by a New America adherent who made him an offer: funnel war materiel from Fort Lee to him and he'd ensure that, when the time came, Bennett would be given a meal ticket and a position of safety "out west." Bennett claimed he didn't care about New America's ideology, only that he had a future. "Look around. Open your eyes. USMEA doesn't have what it takes to put this country back together again. I decided to back the winner."

When confronted with these facts, Captain Tolen was appalled. He openly admitted that, yes, he had made arrangements, through Bennett, to send "extra" supplies to civilian communities in need of them – but he swore he did not authorize the sending of war materiel to anyone, let alone New America. He felt betrayed, though he made no bones about the fact that he was ultimately to blame for this situation. Tolen took full responsibility and offered to turn himself in to the Provost Marshal, Colonel Kearns. Major Hunter said that she would speak to Kearns first, but, in the meantime, he and Bennett would be placed under guard.

Kearns was not surprised to learn that Tolen was involved. He said that the captain was a "naive bleeding heart" but not a bad a man. Fort Lee owed a lot to his work to keep it together, but that did not excuse his "reckless" behavior. Ultimately, though, the fault lay with General Summers, the base commander, who "cared more about looking good for Norfolk than doing his job." Summers, he explained, was a desk general, who had never seen combat and now, with all the soldiers returning from Europe, was worried he might be replaced "by someone with actual military experience." Summers always preferred to paper over problems rather than deal with them.

Hunter confirmed some of what Kearns claimed when she and Lt. Col. Orlowski presented MLG-7's report directly to Summers. The general praised them for getting to the bottom of the problem and that they had done so quietly. Summers then said that they were probably keen to leave Fort Lee and continue on their journey. He asked several times when they planned to leave and if there were anything his office could do to speed them on their way. This suggested that Col. Kearns had been correct in his assessment of the general: he wanted to be sure no one in Norfolk got wind of this serious breach of security that had happened under his watch.

Hunter and Orlowski explained they'd be leaving tomorrow, which pleased Summers. He thanked them again and sent them on their way. Of course, Spc. Huxley was scheduled to make another supply run the next day, too. Now that he had been found out, New America would realize something had happened and they might change up their local operations. That didn't sit well with Hunter and Orlowski, who decided that, as part of the departure the next day, MLG-7 would look into this dangling thread personally.

House of Worms

The characters made their way to a safe location known to him through Nebússa's contacts in the Omnipotent Azure Legion. There, they took stock of the artifacts Míru had left for Kirktá and opened the chest of the topaz god to remove the priest of the One Other they'd place in stasis there. Normally, a living being struck by the beam of an excellent ruby eye is held in suspended animation unharmed until he is struck again. This time, though, that did not seem to be the case. When Míru was released, he appeared lifeless – not dead exactly but certainly not alive either. It immediately occurred to Kirktá that, having lived a double life within the Temple of Belkhánu for so long, Míru had undoubtedly learned one or more spells that would enable him to transfer his consciousness from one body to another. He had probably done so moments before he was struck by the excellent ruby eye. If so, he was still alive and working toward his own purposes.

This was unfortunate as Míru knew not only more about Kirktá's early life and purpose but also about the seven items he'd gathered for him to use. The items consisted of: a small, uncut piece of onyx; a small wooden statue of Halúb, "the Knower of Hidden Truths," an obscure aspect of Belkhánu; a polished disc of gray metal framed in bone; a thin leather scroll, warm to the touch and slight pulsating; a mummified finger; a funerary mask with a single eye slot in the brow; and a golden statuette of an ancient ruler whose face has been erased by time. Using the spell seeing other planes, Kirktá determined that the onyx, the disc, and the mask all showed strong connections to the Planes Beyond, while the others were much less potent.

Kirktá set about examining the statue of Halúb first, soon discovering that it was actually a reliquary inside of which was a scroll wrapped in silk. The scroll was made of a sturdy, thin material that was completely black. When viewed in darkness, however, the blackness "fell away," revealing dense text written in Classical Tsolyáni. The text turned out to be the terms of the pact entered into by the First Tlakotáni with the One Other. According to those terms, the emperor-to-be offered the souls of his line to the One Other in exchange for the eternal protection of the fortress of Avanthár against all external threats. So long as the Tlakotáni continued to offer the souls of princes defeated in the Kólumejálim, the One Other would ensure Avanthár never fell.

As an expert demonologist, Keléno scoffed at the pact, calling it "sloppy." He explained that, among other things, there were too many loopholes in the text, specifically that it did not spell out the consequences if one party breaches it. He said he would never enter into such a contract with a demon, let alone a pariah god. Clearly, there must be some details that were missing, because it's difficult to imagine that the pact would have held up for more than 2000 years without either side failing to live up to it. That's when Nebússa began to wonder whether or not it was already in a state of breach, which might explain why Dhich'uné was so keen to establish new terms for it.

Speaking of Dhich'uné, because he had offered protection to many priests of Belkhánu fleeing the razing of their temple, Eselné turned his sights onto the Temple of Sárku. He had ordered his legions, including the cohort led by Grujúng into position to attack it. This concerned the other characters, who worried that such an attack might well play into Dhich'uné's hands. They rushed to the Palace of War, seeking an audience with General Kéttukal to bring their worries to him. As it turned out, Kéttukal had been looking for them. He explained that Dhich'uné had made a formal request for a parley and asked that Kirktá be the one to receive it.

Kirktá, along with Keléno and Nebússa, made their way to meet the Worm Prince. There, he delivered his ultimatum: call off the attack or else he would raise an army of the undead to defend him and turn the capital into a tomb. Additionally, he tempted Kirktá to join him so that he might finally learn the truth of who he is and why that truth was hidden for so long. Kirktá did not give in, despite his intense curiosity. Instead, he and the others returned to Eselné and Kéttukal to prepare for all-out war.