What I Like About Orc Babies

This is a touchy subject, and I'll try my best to discuss it with care, but I want to talk about children in D&D - human children, halfling children, orc children, giant children, beaver children, and everything in between. 

This has been kicking around in my mind since reading Lonely Star's post on the absence of pregnant women in TTRPGs, which sparked a related conversation about children in TTRPGs. This of course brought to mind the AD&D Monster Manual and its very thorough inclusion of children of all kinds. The implications are grim, and this is infamously brought to the forefront in Gygax's own Dungeon Module B2: The Keep on the Borderlands and its use of "monstrous" humanoid children.

I will also be talking about noncombatant adults (in the AD&D Monster Manual these are referred to universally as "females", but I will be using my preferred nomenclature because I believe that anyone can fight or not fight regardless of their gender). These adults go hand in hand with children, as they are often found in lairs and either don't have combat statistics or fight as lesser combatants compared to their "male" counterparts. In the case of those that do not fight at all, they pose the same thorny questions as do children. That is, once you've slashed and burned your way through the warriors guarding the Caves of Chaos, what do you do with the humanoid civilians?

So, let's talk about children and noncombatants in the fantasy colonial violence game.

Interestingly, there are no demihuman or humanoid children in OD&D's Monsters and Treasure. There are young dragons, lycanthropes, centaurs, and rocs, but no orc babies. The closest thing to children of people in the booklet are the lycanthropes and centaurs (lycanthropes being basically people most of the time, and centaurs being people from the waist up). Likewise, dragons, lycanthropes, and centaurs are the only entries in which female members of the species are mentioned (and only the female centaurs are noncombatants). 

AD&D's Monster Manual is vastly different. Here is a list of every (?) Monster Manual entry which mentions gender or children:

• A bugbear lair will have female and young bugbears each equal to 50% the number of male bugbears. In a life or death situation, the former fight as hobgoblins and the latter as kobolds.
• A centaur lair will have females equal to 200% the number of male centaurs and 5-30 young. In a life and death situation, the former will fight with hooves only (unlike the male centaurs, they do not wield weapons). Centaurs are 90% likely to ransom their threatened women and young using their treasure hoard - an even more grim implication than usual.
• A dwarf lair will have female and young dwarves equal to 50% and 25% the number of male dwarves, respectively. Presumably, neither fights (from here on, I will presume female and young monsters do not fight unless mentioned otherwise).
• An elf lair will have female and young elves equal to 100% and 5% the number of male elves, respectively. 5% of the time there will be 10-30 warrior elfmaids mounted on unicorns (cool).
• If more than one cloud giant is encountered in its lair there is a 75% chance that the second is a giantess (which fights as a fire giant), while the rest are young giants. Percentile dice are rolled to determine the young giants' maturity, and they have hit points and inflict damage equal to that percentage of an adult giant's hit points and damage. This same rule of thumb is more or less repeated with all giant types, except the storm giant for some reason.
• A gnoll lair will have female and young gnolls equal to 50% and 200% the number of male gnolls, respectively.
• A gnome lair will have female and young gnomes equal to 50% and 25% the number of male gnomes, respectively.
• A goblin lair will have female and young goblins equal to 60% and 100% the number of male gnomes, respectively. Here the Monster Manual explicitly states, "As is usual with creatures of this sort, the females and young do not fight," which is why I am presuming that female and young monsters listed in other entries do not fight unless mentioned otherwise.
• A halfling lair will have female and young halflings equal to 100% and 60% the number of male halflings, respectively.
• A hobgoblin lair will have female and young hobgoblins equal to 150% and 300% the number of male hobgoblins, respectively.
• A kobold lair will have female and young kobolds equal to 50% and 10% the number of male kobolds, respectively, as well as 30-300 eggs (worth mentioning as deciding what to do about the eggs is similar enough to the decision made about the females and young).
• Werewolf packs are typically a male and female werewolf and 3 to 6 young of 60% to 90% growth. Male and female werewolves fight the same, except the male werewolf gets +2 to hit and does full damage if the female werewolf is attacked, and the female werewolf gets +3 to hit and does full damage if the young werewolves are attacked. The young fight at -4 to -1 to hit depending on their maturity and do 2-5 points of damage (versus the adult werewolf's 2-8).
• A caveman lair will have female and young cavepeople equal to 100% and 50% the number of male cavemen, respectively.
• A tribesman village will have female and young tribespeople each equal to 100% the number of male tribesmen.
• A nomad lair will have female and young nomads equal to 200% and 100% the number of male nomads, respectively.
• A mermen lair will have merwomen and merchildren each equal to the number of mermen.
• An ogre lair will have 2-12 female ogres and 2-8 young ogres. The female ogres do 2-8 damage with a weapon (compared to the male ogre's 2-12 damage) and have a maximum of 6 hit points per hit die. The young ogres fight as goblins.
• An orc lair will have female and young orcs equal to 50% and 100% the number of male orcs, respectively.
• A sahuagin lair will have 30-120 female sahuagin and 10-40 hatchlings. Female sahuagin have 2 hit dice and hatchlings have 1 (compared to the standard 2+2 hit dice). It is worth noting that "the religious life of [sahuagin] is dominated by the females." There is a 10% chance for every 10 male sahuagin that there will be a 5th to 8th level priestess with 1-4 3rd or 4th level assistant priestesses. Female sahuagin are only slightly smaller than male sahuagin, and otherwise indistinguishable.
• A triton lair will have female and young tritons each equal to the number of male tritons.
• A troglodyte lair will have female troglodytes equal to the number of male troglodytes. Female troglodytes have 1+1 hit dice (versus the male troglodyte's 2 hit dice). "There will also be hatchlings and eggs, but these are of no importance."
• A yeti lair will have a 30% chance to have 1-3 female yetis and, if female yetis are present, a 15% chance to have 2-5 young.

This was compiled with a PDF of the Monster Manual and Ctrl + F (search terms "female" and "young"), not an eagle-eyed readthrough of the book in its entirety. Sometimes words like "hatchling" or "fledgling" are used in place of "young", so there may be some occurrences I've missed. I think you get the idea, though.

For the sake of brevity, I included only human-shaped monsters like demihumans, humanoids, giants, and the like - no animals or animal-like monsters such as giant beavers, pegasi, or owlbears. I already went into a great deal of detail as to how these other monsters' young are handled in my post on AD&D's monster economy, so it felt redundant to retread the same ground here. I've excluded dragons for similar reasons.

I also did not include "female-coded" monsters for whom biology is not really a thing - mostly demons and devils like the succubus, marilith, and erinyes, but also the banshee, which is always the spirit of a female elf, or the lamia, which has the upper body of a human woman but no explicit biology.

AD&D's presentation of "demihumans" (dwarves, elves, halflings, etc.) versus "humanoids" (goblins, kobolds, orcs, etc.) is very similar. That is, the Monster Manual's description of these different types of people (and they are all people in my eyes) is relatively consistent. They all have "lairs", treasure, combat statistics, leader-types, pets, an implied society, and, of course, noncombatants. They are all treated the same, which is as "monsters".

From high enough up, looking down, they are all simply "game pieces" with which to populate your world. They all show up on the encounter tables. They are in the Monster Manual because they exist in the milieu, not necessarily because they exist to be killed. The players will encounter elves and they will encounter orcs. Sure, the elves are Chaotic Good and the orcs are Lawful Evil, and one can imagine that you will fight the orcs more often than you fight the elves, but that doesn't mean you can't fight the elves and befriend the orcs.

This stands in contrast with modern D&D's approach to the issue of personhood. In the original 5e Monster Manual, you do not find any statblocks for halflings. There are technically statblocks for dwarves and elves, but these are Drow and Duergar, the dwarves and elves who live underground, who it is okay to kill because they are Evil. Dwarves, elves, halflings, dragonborn, tieflings, and the like have societies (described in the Player's Handbook), but they are not monsters. You can fight a bandit who the DM decides is an elf, but you cannot fight a regular elf. These races are broadly, as a people, "off-limits".

Compare that to goblins, kobolds, and orcs. All are in the Monster Manual and have generic statblocks. You could decide that your bandit is an orc, but you can also fight a regular orc using the orc statblock. Unlike the dwarves and elves and halflings, they're combat fodder. However, they also have the "humanoid" creature type - the same type used by player characters (before supplements introduced playable races with different creature types), suggesting that while they are low level combat fodder, they're also people.

In the new version of the 5e Monster Manual, orcs were elevated from the rank of monster fodder to off-limits personhood alongside dwarves, elves, and halflings. This is presumably because they became one of the core player character races (half-orcs were understandably removed as a player option and replaced with regular orcs). 

On the other hand, goblins are now fey type creatures. Kobolds are now dragon type creatures. You can see this same pattern with other formerly humanoid monsters. Aarakocra are elementals. Bullywugs are fey. Gnolls are fiends. While orcs were made "off-limits", the remaining humanoids were not, and in fact are no longer humanoid type monsters at all. The game seemed to double down on the distinction between human-shaped creatures that are people and human-shaped creatures that are not, right down to their game categorization.

Of course, you can just do what you want with the game and say your goblins are humanoids or your dwarves are elementals and your elves are fey, but it troubles me. In 5e, you can kill a goblin, because it's in the Monster Manual. You can kill a bandit who your DM has decided is an elf, but you can't kill a plain old elf. Dwarves and elves and halflings and orcs are off-limits. Goblins and kobolds and gnolls are not.

Returning to AD&D, you could call out the demihuman/humanoid distinction as being similar to the one I've pointed out in modern D&D (one is a Good not-human and one is an Evil not-human), but in terms of game mechanics, they're presented exactly the same. They are all there in the Monster Manual. One is presented as being more villainous, but they're all creatures living in the world. Here are their game statistics in case you have to kill them, dwarves and elves and halflings included. Everyone is on the encounter table, and they all bleed if you stab them. And they all have children.

Of course, you don't have to kill anyone. Just as the DM can use the entries on dwarves, elves, and halflings to create a "lifelike" demihuman enclave with which the players can interact, the same can be said of the entries on goblins, kobolds, orcs, and other humanoids. When I see how similarly AD&D presents the societies of demihumans and humanoids, my impression is that this is a game where all of these creatures are people, even if some are vilified while others are not.

This is, of course, not the default assumption in D&D - especially not the D&D of Gygax, who once famously asserted that it is both Lawful and Good to kill orc babies, going so far as to cite an infamous perpetrator of Native American genocide. AD&D's domain game requires that a player character who wishes to build a stronghold must first clear the land of any monster lairs present - i.e., those very same goblin, kobold, and orc lairs which contain so many noncombatants and children. Gygax's Keep on the Borderlands is one of the most foundational of D&D's early adventure modules, with the objective of clearing out the Caves of Chaos and their humanoid residents - including their noncombatants - so that the march of human civilization can push ever onward.

It is also worth mentioning that AD&D's section on CONSTRUCTION & SIEGE details the time it takes to excavate rock for the construction of dungeons beneath the player character's stronghold. This section includes rules for the cubic volume of rock excavated by different types of human-like creatures, including humans, dwarves, gnomes, and halflings, but also gnolls, goblins, hobgoblins, kobolds, orcs, ogres, and several types of giants:

The use of humanoid and giant laborers is somewhat discouraged by this section, which describes these workers as generally unwilling and difficult, but here any notion of subtext becomes text. The player character can use these people to construct their stronghold dungeons, but they will be slaves, and will have to be heavily guarded to ensure peak efficiency:

When you consider this in combination with the prevalence of noncombatants in these monsters' lairs, it paints a bleak picture.

It's obvious that Gygax's idea of Law and Good is deeply flawed. It is certainly not the definition of Lawful Good I use in my games. Alignment in my games is more an ideological or cultural predilection or bent, not a cosmic or ontological truth. Orcs are not naturally Evil creatures born of shadow and sorcery. They might culturally tend towards Evil because their ideology espouses strength and mercilessness (likely because they have been done wrong time and again by their more powerful neighbors), but they are not universally or irredeemably Evil in any way. 

Even if the particular group of orcs in a scenario is Evil, that does not mean they are actively doing Evil. I use reaction rolls to determine how such people might interact with the world around them (generally, I find these older mechanics super helpful in making these scenarios more complex and engaging). The classically Chaotic or Evil orcs might be more likely to be unfriendly or hostile to their neighbors, but there is also a chance they are simply keeping to themselves, or even attempting to establish friendly relations or trade. Any character whose first course of action when dealing with such a people (even those who are Chaotic or Evil and hostile towards their neighbors) is to go to their home and kill them and their children is not Lawful Good in my eyes.

While AD&D's domain game may insist that player characters use violence to colonize their sphere of influence, I see no reason why this should be required. A detailed reading of the domain game rules suggests that player characters can eventually assimilate monster populations into their realm. This is dependent on the player character's and the monsters' respective alignments, but in a game where alignment is less prescriptive, why shouldn't the Lawful Good paladin be allowed to negotiate terms with the orcs, make them vassals, and attempt to change their ways? It is still colonialism, but with less bloodshed, and I don't see much of a way around it without excising the domain game entirely (or building your stronghold someplace where there is somehow both good land and also no one already living there).

Similarly, while AD&D requires that humanoid and giant workers be enslaved and heavily guarded in order to construct stronghold dungeons, there is no need for the individual DM to cling fiercely to this rule of thumb. Why must all goblins, ogres, and giants be loathe to do labor (any more than the average person loathes work)? Why can't they be recruited in good faith and compensated for their time the same as any other laborer? 

The Keep on the Borderlands is also an interesting case. Just as in the Monster Manual elves are detailed in much the same way as orcs, in B2 the Keep is given nearly as much description as the Caves of Chaos. It is not just a nondescript bastion of human civilization and home base for forays into the untamed wilderness, but a richly detailed play environment in which every defender, civilian, and treasure is placed with care. Do with it what you will.

The inhabitants of the Caves of Chaos may be Evil (or Chaotic, in this case), but they aren't actually doing anything besides fighting amongst each other. The rich detail of the Keep itself suggests that it is intended as another play environment which the players might need to "solve". The players might be able to unite the factions of the Caves against their common enemy. Better yet, why not lead them against the Cult of Chaos and negotiate terms for them with the Keep's Castellan? It's a bit of a stretch, certainly not Gygax's intention, and maybe not the most adventurous way to play out the module, but TTRPGs are all about tactical infinity. It's an option, is all I'm saying.

When human-like monsters are portrayed as inherently, irredeemably Evil or adversarial, the players' agency in interacting with them becomes extremely limited, lest they be forced to engage in "Lawful Stupid" behaviors. That is, when the orcs are Evil no matter what, the players have no choice but to thwart them in some way. If the players allow them retreat or surrender, they are presumably only leaving human civilization vulnerable to renewed offensives in the future.

The big problem with orc babies (here I'm using this as a catchall term for noncombatant monsters) is that if these monsters are irredeemably Evil or adversarial, it is easy to dismiss the wanton slaughter of their civilians as an act of "greater Good" - after all, the young will grow up to be Evil warriors, and the adult noncombatants will only exist to facilitate their Evil and to bring more Evil into the world. Genocide becomes permissible - even optimal - for a "Good" character to partake in.

Another problem with orc babies is when they're wielded against the players as a gotcha. "Aha! I, the DM, have created/am running a scenario in which the default mode of play is to go to the monsters' houses and kill them. You've done what you were intended to do, but you did not consider that at the end of the line you would encounter these helpless civilians. Now you have a moral dilemma, which I have given you no means of avoiding!"

For some groups, this dilemma might be fun to engage with. I think it sucks, at least when it's setup this way. Even if we decide that human-like monsters are not ontologically Evil, but must nonetheless be thwarted, and violence is somehow the only way, let's say the players decide that the threat has been neutralized and they allow the noncombatants to live. They are probably condemning the remainder to starvation or predation by some stronger foe, but they get to feel good about doing the "right thing", I guess.

The Keep on the Borderlands is such an infamous example because - while other approaches do exist - the default objective of play is to clear out the Caves of Chaos. Many DMs have and will run this module assuming that the player characters will go kill every humanoid combatant in those Caves, and many players have gone/will go along with the path of least resistance, only to encounter the gotcha once their grisly task is done. They are mostly not at fault because they were just going along with the quest hook, which is often considered the courteous thing to do when the DM is running a module.

A proper sandbox needn't have any assumed objectives, however. Sure, when I design a sandbox, I assume that the players will try to establish themselves in town, that they will explore the nearby dungeon, hunt down the owlbears, roust the brigands from the castle, clear the ogres from their lair, and overthrow the town's Evil overlords, more or less in that order. But they might also make common cause with the town's rulers, subdue the owlbears for the wizard's menagerie, become brigands themselves, and recruit the ogres to their side rather than run them off or slaughter them.

If there is an orc lair in my sandbox, there will probably be propaganda about how the orcs are uncouth, inimical to civilization and impossible to reason with. The only good orc is a dead orc and all that. Again, because of the way alignment works in my games, the orcs may not even be Chaotic or Evil. Even if they are, they may not prey upon their neighbors. They may be isolationist, or even cautiously friendly. Perhaps their mere presence is an inconvenience to the powers that be, who want to run them off their land, put down a parking lot for their dragons, and build a magic Walmart in place of the orcs' lair.

If the players dig into it, they may uncover the truth. They may in fact find a straightforward den of orcs with sinister intentions. Even this scenario is not exclusionary of less violent means of settling the dispute, however. Perhaps the players will find that the orcs do have some sort of ancestral claim to that territory, or they learn that the orcs can be appeased in some way which does not involve plundering all of human civilization. Perhaps there are factions of orcs, some less warlike than others, and negotiations can take place if the orcs have a change of leadership. Perhaps the human ruler is Good and is willing to make certain concessions, or perhaps the human ruler is the greater Evil and it is they who must be overthrown to ensure a lasting peace.

What I like about orc babies (again using this as a general term to encapsulate noncombatant monsters) is that they signal to the players that these monsters are people. When the players find out that there are hundreds of noncombatants in the orc lair, it should give them pause about how exactly to handle whatever conflict exists. Their first course of action shouldn't be to find a way to kill everyone inside. If they wrote "Good" on their character sheet, they have to find another way.

It complicates the scenario, but only if the orcs themselves have a level of complexity. In a proper sandbox, the presence of humanoid civilians shouldn't be a "gotcha". The players have the means to acquire whatever information they need, to make a choice based on that info, and to have their choice make an impact.

This all assumes that the player characters are basically Good and care about the wellbeing of civilians. If they are instead Evil, the result of including civilians in your monster populations can again be quite grim. 

I've already discussed this in the aforementioned post on AD&D's monster economy and in my post on subduing dragons. Generally, I feel that the assumption that player characters will want to subdue dragons and auction them off in the nearest town or city (and that most such places will usually have buyers eager to acquire them) is a fun bit of worldbuilding. Similarly, there are all sorts of animal-like creatures which the players are incentivized to kill, butcher for their hides, and steal their eggs and young to sell to the highest bidder.

I am not shy about referring to these practices as slavery, which they very plainly are. Many of these animal-like monsters are intelligent, peaceful, and even lean towards Goodness. All of the dragons are intelligent, half of them are Good, and all of them explicitly loathe their imprisonment and seek to break free of their masters at the earliest opportunity. Skinning giant beavers and kidnapping the children of monsters to be enslaved are clearly Evil acts, even if the monsters themselves are designated as "Evil".

Still, I argue that players should be able to play Evil characters, and that there should be opportunities for them to do Evil. Even if they are not Evil, they must still have the opportunity (and, even better, an incentive) to do Evil for their choice to be Good to matter:

Being Good is hard. It should be. It should be easier (or at least more profitable) to be Evil. Players can write "Good" on their character sheet all they want, but they have to actually do Good for that to mean anything. And for doing Good to actually mean something, it has to be a choice. For doing Good to be a choice, the players must also have the choice to do Evil. 

If they spend the whole game doing little quests for the dirt farmers of the local thorp out of the Goodness of their hearts with little wealth to show for it, they may start rethinking what they wrote on their character sheet once they hear that their (Evil) rivals just earned 80,000 gold from skinning giant beavers and selling their children into slavery. Maybe it just reaffirms their commitment to Goodness, and the existence of such Evil in the world instead serves to distinguish them from those sorts, and they vow to put an end to such injustices at any cost. But the (potential for) Evil deeds must exist to create that contrast.

You might have players who choose to play Evil characters, and that's okay too! A campaign of poaching monsters and selling their children into slavery is definitely not for everyone, so you might restrict these options, but I personally enjoy portraying a fantasy world in all its ugliness. If there are giant beavers nearby, the village may be negotiating with them to construct a dam, while simultaneously, outlaw poachers may be conspiring to prey upon them. The pegasi nesting nearby may be valuable allies to Good characters, but if there's a Chaotic Evil wizard in the area, they're likely to desire the creatures' eggs for nefarious purposes, and are willing to pay good money for them. The players get to choose how to engage with those dynamics one way or the other.

This is exactly the kind of thing session 0s and safety tools are for. If someone at the table is not comfortable with being a part of Evil acts, or with poaching or slavery specifically, then players should not play Evil characters, or those acts should be forbidden, or the person who's uncomfortable should consider playing in a different game. Violence against children and the enslavement of people is obviously an even thornier issue and should be handled with even more care. I totally understand why many or even most people don't want orc babies in their games.

But I like a bit of thorniness in my games. If the players decide that their best course of action is to carry out a genocide, then they should have to deal with the moral and spiritual toll of that. I am not going to trick them into it or force them into a situation where it's their only option, then inflict the dilemma on them as some sort of inane "twist", but if they make no attempt to gather more information or pursue less absolute avenues then that is their choice, and they must deal with the consequences. 

At the same time, if they have chosen to play Evil characters and all involved are interested in playing out the implications of that choice, then it is up to me to decide how much opportunity I'm willing to give them to engage in that sort of play and explore its consequences. If I know that my players are interested in exploring Evil, I have a choice as to whether or not to include orc babies in my sandbox, knowing exactly what the outcome might be. If the players decide to slay the orc civilians, then that is their choice, and it's also my choice because I put them there, knowing that this might happen.

And even if the player characters are not themselves Evil, just as with the subdual of dragons and participation in the monster economy, anything the player characters can do, NPCs can do too. The player characters might treat the orcs as people, but the NPCs might not. The player characters might seek to treat with the orcs as equals while the local Evil ruler is carrying out a genocide and enslaving their victims' civilians to excavate their subterranean dungeons (this is even represented in the background section of Dungeon Module B1: In Search of the Unknown).

Again, whether you choose to include this sort of thing will depend entirely on your and your players' sensibilities. Just as players will have different levels of comfort with carrying out Evil acts, they will have different levels of comfort in dealing with NPCs doing the same. Thwarting an Evil wizard who is doing cartoonish wizard villainy is one thing - thwarting a tyrannical slaver is another. Some players may relish the opportunity, while others will become despondent when forced to confront real world parallels in their leisure time.

I'm focusing on humanoid civilians because there is already so much baggage there with parallels to real world racism, colonialism, slavery, genocide, and so on, but it's important to again remember that AD&D's Monster Manual presents demihuman noncombatants the same way. Dwarves, elves, and halflings can present conflict in your setting as well, and players of Good characters who wish to resolve these conflicts will have to reckon with the fact that they're also people, just as you as the DM will have to consider whether to include noncombatant members of these people if you know your players are interested in exploring Evil deeds. The default assumption in many cases may be that the player characters are Good and that the orcs will be potential enemies and the elves potential allies, but this isn't always the case.

This is not to say that human-like monsters can never be fodder. This is a game, after all, and going toe-to-toe with thinking enemies with capabilities similar to yours is a fun scenario to play out. Remember that noncombatants only appear in lairs, so human-like monsters encountered in dungeons and outdoors are fair game (though again, that is not to say they are inherently Chaotic or Evil or even doing anything nefarious). Just as it is "okay" to kill a human brigand (that has its own baggage, as brigands are people too and probably have a good reason for turning to brigandry), it is okay to kill an elf or a goblin in an imaginary violence game.

All that being said...I think there is something very funny about an Evil child. My Hexmas sandbox, the Jinglebell Barrens includes a Chaotic Evil frost giant toddler:

• Kolvi: Hrothvar's only son. He is the frost giant equivalent of a toddler - as large as an ogre, but doughy and badly proportioned. He is always accompanied and protected by his pet winter wolf, Hoarfang. He is lazy and cowardly, has a child's temper and petulance, and wants nothing more than to see adventurers slain, roasted, and served up at a feast. He hates both his father and grandmother, but adores Rimehilda. He will run to her and make up any lie about adventurers which might get them into trouble. One adventurer, before being killed and eaten, spoke of a talking wishing well. Kolvi begs Rimehilda to take him there so that he might wish for all adventurers to be killed and eaten by him.

My recent post on halflings and their dogs includes this Lawful Evil halfling child:

Corin Thistlethorn (LE): 3 hp. A male Hairfoot child (AC 9). Thin and sharp-featured, with dark brown curls and keen grey eyes. His clothes are surprisingly tidy for a child. Although young, he is more intelligent than the average halfling (Int 14). He quietly observes conversations before joining in, and adults sometimes find his questions uncomfortably perceptive. He is selfish and manipulative and enjoys bending rules, knowing secrets, keeping score of favors, and figuring out how to gain advantages over his peers. He is tight-lipped around strangers, evaluating them carefully before deciding whether they are allies or people to avoid (neutral). Treasure: A carefully organized collection of bird feathers, insects, and unusual stones, a slate tablet and chalk used for keeping lists, small wooden tokens representing debts and favors owed by other children, and a pocketknife (no value). Corin has 2 dogs:

1. Bracken: A tan rabbit hound. Curious about everything, he has a habit of bringing interesting trinkets to Corin. Terrified by storms.
2. Soot: A black terrier with mismatched eyes. He distrusts strangers and watches them with the same suspicious scrutiny as his master.

Now, I'm not saying these children should be murdered because they're Evil. Once again, alignment is a mutable cultural tendency in my games, not an ontological truth about who a person is (the halfling child above, for example, is Lawful Evil despite halfling culture leaning towards Lawful Good). These are children, meaning they are even more malleable than most people, if gotten to early. Murdering a child, regardless of their fantasy race, personality, alignment, or whatever, is one of the most Evil things you can do.

Just because the frost giant child wants to eat you and will hide behind the Evil witch's skirts and tell lies about you to achieve that end does not mean he can be killed in good conscience. However, if you're trying to infiltrate the frost giants' home without ending up on a skewer yourself, maybe lock the child in a closet or trick them into drinking a sleeping potion or something. You probably don't have to do anything about the off-putting halfling child hanging around the shire, but it gives the place a little flavor for one of the children to be a bit unnerving.

And that's what I really like about orc babies. The fact that the Monster Manual tells me that 60% of the orcs in the lair will be children and noncombatant adults primes me to include those orcs as NPCs as well. If the orc lair has a certain number of warriors, 50% as many noncombatant adults, and 100% as many young orcs, then I know that 40% of the orcs in the lair are warriors, 40% are young, and 20% are noncombatant adults, and I can use that to give some variety to the NPCs encountered there.

If the player characters are hanging out in the orc lair, they should have a chance to encounter an orc child. Not "encounter" as in "fight" of course, but like...I don't know. Roleplaying an interaction with a orc toddler sounds fun to me. Make the child annoying to deal with just like you would any NPC. That doesn't give the players an excuse to murder them, no more than it gives them an excuse to kill a corrupt city official or a wizard's meddlesome henchman. 

In some cases, violence against children will be advantageous (yes, this is a weird sentence to write, but bear with me). In Dungeon Module G1: Steading of the Hill Giant Chief, there's an opportunity to murder or subdue some hill giant children in order to take their clothes so that the player characters can pass as giant children themselves:

Again, the assumption of this module is that the giants are Evil and anything goes, which has its drawbacks, but in a more nuanced game I think the dilemma is somewhat interesting. Are the players willing to do this wretched thing for a slight upper hand, or is it too distasteful, so now they have to go about things the hard way? Is the moral calculus at all altered by the fact that those giant children are actually a significant threat with 13 to 26 hit points and armed with weapons which they fight with as ogres? For some groups it will be, for others not so much.

These types of NPCs make a place feel lifelike. I want to portray these as real places, not video game levels to be cleared. The elves and orcs are simply "game pieces" to the DM, but they should feel like people to the players. The presence of noncombatants reinforces that the lair can be a place where people live, not just where monsters wait to be slain. I don't want to exclude these NPCs out of fear for what the players might do to them, no more than I want my hamlets and thorps to be stuffed to the brim with guards and 1st level fighters, with nary a peasant farmer or meddlesome child in sight.

If you don't want to risk it, don't put noncombatants in your game. Or, simply tell your players up front that those NPCs are off-limits and you won't tolerate any violence against them. You could go the Bethesda RPG route and either have children be conspicuously absent from your world or else immune to harm. It's also okay to have your orcs or whatever just be monsters birthed from sorcery with no explicit biology, if you want violence against them to be totally free of consequence.

Personally, I like having orc babies in my games. I like weird, annoying, funny NPCs, and no person is weirder, more annoying, or funnier than a child. So much of the legacy of children and noncombatant monsters in D&D is tied up in the baggage of its modules and the rancid worldview of Gygax, both of which assume that it is unambiguously okay to kill these creatures and which punish the players for doing what they're intended to do with unfair forced moral dilemmas.

It's because of those same modules that we never talk about the children of dwarves, elves, and halflings, or the fact that every village, hamlet, and thorp is populated by many civilians and children. Not many modules feature demihuman lairs or detailed settlements. In the case of Dungeon Module N1: Against the Cult of the Reptile God, in which the village of Orlane is detailed, the proportion of detailed men, women, and children is way off.

But the player characters can raid an elf village just as much as they can an orc lair (the elves have treasure too!), and the elves will have noncombatants and children just as the orcs do. Every time a village is attacked by a monster, we must imagine that noncombatants and children are being killed, eaten, burned by dragon fire, carried off into slavery, or whatever. It's not super fun to imagine, which is part of the reason it isn't talked about more, but it's there, happening in the background.

Fortunately, there isn't much (not really any that I can recall) violence against children or noncombatants happening "on screen" in my D&D games, but I've thought about running modules like B2 and G1. My villages, hamlets, and thorps have children in them. My sandboxes have orc lairs and elf lairs with all the usual noncombatants. There are petulant frost giant toddlers and unnerving halfling children. There are dragons that can be subdued. There are giant beavers that can be poached and enslaved. There are Evil NPCs pursuing their own goals in the sandbox, many of whom are willing to do these wretched things even if the player characters are not.

So, the potential is always there. It's something I'm comfortable with. I trust my players to engage with that material thoughtfully, and I trust that we can have a conversation about it if it becomes a problem. Not every table has the same luxury, so you will have to adjust to taste. 

D&D is a game where violence happens...a lot, whether the player characters initiate it or not. If you're trying to portray a lifelike world, it might also be a game where children are prevalent. You have to calibrate how much those two facets interface with one another, what happens on screen versus off, and how much opportunity to give your players to interact with those elements.

I don't begrudge anyone for preferring not to engage with it, but it's worth considering. Don't throw the orc babies out with the bathwater!

Developing the Sandbox: Strongholds

This post is part of my series on developing the sandbox. You can read other posts in the series here. The series will, when necessary, go into detail on the development of my sandbox for Dungeon Module B1: In Search of the Unknown, but will also discuss sandbox development more generally. You can read play reports from my B1 campaign here.

In this post, I'll discuss the development of those strongholds in your sandbox which are ruled by NPCs. These are your classic fighters' bastions, wizards' towers, clerics' temple fortresses, and thieves' dens and hideouts, but it doesn't stop there. 

Paladins will rule strongholds somewhere between that of a fighter and a cleric. Rangers may rule fortified compounds in a more wilderness locale. Illusionists will disguise their strongholds to appear mightier than they truly are, or as simple earthen mounds or other natural features. Druids will rule secure woodland groves. Monks build monasteries. Assassins rule imposing wilderness fortresses.

Monster lairs can also be strongholds, and many famous "monster lair" modules play very similarly to strongholds. Bandits, berserkers, brigands, and dervishes may come to inhabit them. Giants and many underwater creatures will build strongholds as well. 

Two things that this post will not cover are (1) strongholds built by the player characters and (2) deserted strongholds, which are likely naught but ruins on the surface and which fall more readily into the dungeon category.

Most scholarship (i.e. blogs) on the subject of strongholds in D&D pertains to those built by player characters and the rules for doing so. I'm instead interested in how to design and key an existing NPC stronghold for the players to interact with. 

Strongholds are kind of like dungeons in the sense that the player characters can move from room to room and interact with objects inside. They will contain "empty" rooms, "monsters", traps, and treasure. They are also kind of like monster lairs in that they are home to a type of "monster" - broadly speaking, most often men and/or demi-humans, but more specifically, powerful NPCs that are very much like the player characters themselves, plus their henchmen, men-at-arms, special followers, pets, and the like.

Strongholds are tricky because they are very much real places, and complex ones at that. You'll want to have some knowledge about different types of real-world strongholds and how they functioned. You have to think about how real-world strongholds were constructed and defended, and anticipate ways in which your players might want to infiltrate or lay siege to them. You have to think about who all lives there and how much room is needed to house them.

Dungeons are similarly complex, but they're not exactly real places. It might be hard to imagine them without something historical to reference, but there are often robust procedures for designing them, and lots of advice on blogs. Because they're not really real, you can also let your imagination run wild. 

Monster lairs are "real" in the sense that bears and wolves and the like are a sort of "monster" that lives in our own world, and you can somewhat easily imagine what such a place would be like if instead an owlbear lived there, or what an otherwise normal cottage would be like if a leprechaun were instead its resident. They're also not usually especially complex, so there isn't a huge cognitive load when designing them.

There are also more fantastic elements to consider. What spells are laid upon the stronghold? Are there any monstrous inhabitants kept as pets - perhaps a subdued dragon or some enslaved monsters? Perhaps it's a stronghold like in OD&D, with heroes riding griffons and rocs, or defended by chimeras, trolls, manticores, and the like:

Just as you might steal some dungeons for your sandbox to lighten your workload, you can steal strongholds too. You can pretty easily steal the Keep on the Borderlands, Castle Ravenloft, the Hall of the Fire Giant King, or whatever. But you can't always steal exactly what you need, and you might want to create something original. It's not much fun to just use the Keep on the Borderlands over and over again. Is there a good adventure out there which features a fortified druid's grove? I don't know. I'll probably have to make one.

Because they are complex locations, inaccessible by design, ruled by powerful NPCs, and inhabited by large numbers of potentially hostile defenders, I generally assume that NPC strongholds will be one of the last places which the player characters explore in depth. Thus, they usually wind up at the very end of my list of sandbox locations to develop in more detail.

As with every location in my sandbox, before I go into more detail, I start with a minimalist sketch. For strongholds, this includes the stronghold type, who rules it, and how the ruler and their followers might react upon first meeting the player characters, as well as how they relate to those locations which surround them.

For the type of stronghold, I use this handy table from the AD&D DMG:

(Spoiler: The section on CONSTRUCTION AND SIEGE ENGINES really doesn't provide any details about castle types aside from how long it takes to build them. There's lot of information about excavation and mining - including notes on the efficiency of slave labor - a sort of glossary of castle features and how much each costs, and some rules for sieges. This section is kind of interesting, and the glossary is worth looking at, but it won't help you too much in actually designing such a location for your game.)

A castle can be totally deserted, deserted and inhabited by a monster, inhabited by humans (that is, bandits, brigands, berserkers, or dervishes), or inhabited by character-type NPCs:

Both types of deserted castles fall into the dungeon bucket, so we'll focus on just the other two types. There's another table for determining the type of humans in the castle:

In the case of character-types, it isn't as simple, because in AD&D, the stronghold ruler's class will also have some effect on what type of castle can be built. For example, a thief can only rule a small stronghold in or near a town or city, a monk can only rule a moat house or friary, and a druid's stronghold must be in the wilderness. This means that depending on which class is rolled as the ruler, we might be limited in which type of castle is possible.

I wrote up a handy summary of which type of character can rule a stronghold at what level and what type of stronghold they can rule, which is worth checking out. If you're not using AD&D, it isn't super important, but I think it's at least illuminating, and you can always use AD&D's tables for worldbuilding, even if you're using a different system.

Because the ruler's class affects what type of stronghold can be built and where, I determine that first using this table:

The level column is not quite accurate, which I elaborate on in the aforementioned post on the subject. 

In AD&D, only certain races can attain a high enough level in their class to build a stronghold. For example, only human clerics can reach a high enough level to build a stronghold, so if I roll cleric, I know my ruler is human. 

Similarly, if my stronghold is in the wilderness, I know it can't be ruled by a thief. If I roll monk, I know it must be a moat house or friary, and so on. It's a lot to wrap your head around, which is why I thought it worthwhile to summarize in that earlier post.

Knowing who my ruler is, I can then determine their alignment. This is also dependent upon class, such that paladins will always be Lawful Good, rangers always Good, druids always Neutral, and so on. This then modifies their reaction rolls pertaining to the player characters and their neighbors in the sandbox. 

Using my B1 sandbox as an example, I know that the brigands ruling Fayette's Hold are unfriendly towards Timbershore. They're not hostile, so they aren't attacking the town or riding around the countryside killing people, but they've occupied Ebongrove, the thorp at the foot of the castle and just outside of town, and are demanding tribute from Lambrecht, the wizard who rules his own stronghold in town. I also know that the brigands were originally recruited by Lambrecht to subvert the castle's rightful ruler, and that they're now holding the ruler for ransom. The people of Ebongrove are hoping someone will free Fayette from her cell. Lambrecht is attempting to court the ogres of Okorg's Den to aid him in retaking the castle.

That's pretty much all I need for a first draft for my sandbox. To get this location ready for play, I have to go deeper, starting with who all lives there.

In the case of bandits, berserkers, brigands, and dervishes, I simply use the numbers in the Monster Manual. For character-type NPCs, it will be more complicated:

1d4+1 henchmen, light and heavy cavalry led by fighters, and any additional special followers appropriate for the class. (If I'm interpreting this correctly, a cleric's stronghold is instead garrisoned by their special followers, while the other classes get both their special followers and the garrison listed above? Unclear.) 

The classes of henchmen are determined on a separate table than that used to determine who rules the stronghold:

This table yields slightly fewer clerics, fighters, magic-users, illusionists, assassins, and monks, and more druids, paladins, rangers, and thieves. I will ensure that henchmen are compatible with their masters, so a Lawful Good ruler will not have Chaotic Evil henchmen and a paladin will not have a henchman assassin. The level of these henchmen is determined by the level of the ruler:

If my hypothetical stronghold ruler is a Neutral Good 9th level human cleric, each of their henchmen will be 6th level, and none will be Evil. I find it fun to turn these henchmen into their own little "factions" of a sort, making opposed reaction rules with the ruler to determine whether they're favored, neglected, or on the outs, if they're fanatically loyal, unhappy, or actively seeking to betray their master. Remember that henchmen are, at the beginning, the pitiable wretches of the AD&D world, so it isn't hard to believe they might turn their cloaks if they think they might receive better treatment elsewhere.

A good example of this can be found in my Hexmas sandbox, the Jinglebell Barrens. The Tower of Noel is ruled by a fighter with several henchmen, each with their own personalities and agendas.

A stronghold's garrison will have a mix of from 38 to 64 men-at-arms (average 51). I don't love that this is unaffected by the size of the stronghold, so I like to roll as normal for a medium stronghold, roll twice for a small stronghold and keep the lower roll, and roll twice for a large stronghold and keep the higher roll. So a tower will have 2d4(keep lowest)+8 heavy cavalry, a large shell keep will have d4+8 as normal, and a fortress complex will have 2d4(keep highest)+8.

On to special followers. Clerics get a mix of cavalry and infantry:

Fighters get a medium level leader type and a company of either heavy infantry, crossbowmen, cavalry, or a mix of light cavalry and infantry:

Rangers are awesome and get 2d12 followers of mixed types:

This will mostly be normal stuff like character-type humans and demi-humans, but the lower you roll on 2d12, the more likely you are to get really cool stuff like giant animals, monsters, fey creatures, dragons, giants, treants, and lycanthropes:

This is the only thing in AD&D that really hints at OD&D's table of weird stronghold defenders, and that's too bad. There's no reason that your fighter's stronghold can't be garrisoned by griffon riders or your cleric's temple haunted by undead, but it would be a lot cooler if it was made explicit in some of these tables. Still it is really sick that if you play a ranger you have a chance of a dragon or giant just showing up to your stronghold to hang out.

Anyway, thieves get 4d6 thieves of 1st to 7th level and assassins (upon usurping the reigning Guildmaster/mistress) get 7d4 assassins of 1st to 8th level, 75% of which desert during the overthrow and are replaced by new 1st level recruits. There are more tables for those but they're not really worth sharing following those cool ranger tables.

After all that, you have to do the actual designing of the place, including layout and keying. Since strongholds are real historical places, you can do some research into each kind to figure out what exactly you're creating. You probably know what a tower is, but you might want to look up what exactly is a moat house or a shell keep or a concentric castle. 

Since medieval strongholds are not one of my special interests, I did some research. YouTube has a lot of videos describing different types of medieval strongholds, some with 3D renderings/walkthroughs detailing what might be found inside. I also watched some videos about how various defenses worked and how attackers usually laid siege to such places. I found it all enlightening and super interesting, and it's gotten my gears turning thinking about how I'd handle these scenarios in a D&D game.

The stronghold's character should be informed by the ruler of the stronghold. A thief's stronghold will be filled with nefarious traps. A magic-user's or cleric's will be warded by magic and protected by certain conjured beings. An illusionist's stronghold will be a very frustrating place indeed.

It's good to look over the list of spells available to the ruler and their henchmen to determine what sorts of magical effects might pervade the place, with a special eye towards those with a permanent duration. The stronghold may be guarded by animated dead. It may be lit entirely by continual light spells. Certain areas may be trapped with a glyph of warding. The stronghold may be surrounded by an overgrown thicket affected by plant growth. Locked doors may be affected by Leomund's trap. Other doors may be secured with wizard lock or affected by fire trap. A wall of iron may enclose the stronghold in place of wood or stone walls. Earthworks may be formed by move earth. An antipathy spell may repel attackers from a certain area. Clone vats may be found in one chamber. The windows of the ruler's chambers may be reinforced by glassteel. Permanency can make permanent the effects of enlarge, fear, gust of wind, invisibility, magic mouth, prismatic sphere, stinking cloud, wall of fire, wall of force, and web. 

There are many possibilities which will make the stronghold even more challenging than it otherwise would be, and this can quickly get out of hand. At the same time, this is the place where the NPC lives, so why shouldn't the wizard secure every door in the place with a wizard lock? Some spells will have costly material components or will be too high level to cast flippantly, so these should be treated with special consideration.

For the layout, you might consider using historical castle floorplans. As some of my contemporaries pointed out when I raised this subject, real-life castles are not super gameable. They are impregnable deathtraps which offer very little choice to player characters who might want to infiltrate or assault them, which is by design. They don't make for good dungeons. 

I think that's basically fine, because the types of strongholds in question aren't dungeons and aren't supposed to be. They're what the player characters' own armies of followers and men-at-arms are for - wargaming and sieges. This post isn't about adjudicating mass combat or siege scenarios, so although the topics go hand in hand, we'll leave them for now.

With a good plan the party might be able to stealthily scale the stronghold's walls and neutralize its defenders, or at higher levels they could teleport into the ruler's inner sanctum and confront them directly, but otherwise they'll need an army of their own.

...Unless there was some other way in. I seem to remember a famous D&D module which takes place in a dungeon built under an old NPC stronghold and a passing assumption in the AD&D DMG that player characters (and, presumably, NPCs) will always build dungeons beneath their strongholds. Such a dungeon could not only expand the functional square footage of such a stronghold, but also serve as a secret escape route for the stronghold's ruler in the event of a siege. And where there's a way out...

The dungeon beneath an NPC's stronghold is as important as the stronghold itself. Every NPC stronghold should have one. Like the stronghold above, these should be informed by the character of the NPC who rules it. You might go the B1 route and make this the mad labyrinth of a true dungeon sicko, or perhaps it is a more sensible extension of the stronghold itself - a series of cellars, cisterns, prison chambers, death traps, and treasure vaults. 

Is the dungeon garrisoned with men-at-arms like the stronghold above, or have they captured a menagerie of monsters and locked them down below to deter any would-be besiegers? This might be where the cleric keeps their undead servitors, or where the magic-user has bound their conjured elemental and fiends into service. This might be where most of the thief's traps are laid. 

Through the dungeon, the player characters might gain access to whatever area of the stronghold the ruler calls home. There will be guards to be dealt with inside, but it's still a lot better than storming the stronghold's walls and being peppered with arrows, bludgeoned with falling rocks, and scalded with boiling oil in the mad scramble over the walls. 

The assumption that characters will always build dungeons beneath their strongholds not only provides a more convenient way in for a small band of adventurers, but also a handy justification for defaulting to D&D's default mode of play, where the game is at its strongest. Whether intentional or not, it's a genius bit of design which simplifies a location which poses unique and difficult challenges for the player characters and DM alike.

In a way, strongholds are settlement, dungeon, and monster lair all in one. Preparing one for your sandbox requires you to combine approaches from all three of the former location types along with an understanding of the real-world places in our own history. It is no easy feat, and the resources provided by the game itself are somewhat lacking in this area. If you manage to design a good one, however, you'll be rewarded with a location that can support a variety of modes of play, from social intrigue to mass combat to your usual dungeon fare.

Play Report (AD&D 2e): In Search of the Unknown (Session 12)

We played the twelfth session of our Dungeon Module B1: In Search of Unknown AD&D 2e game last night. You can read past play reports here.

The roster for this session was as follows:

• Llombaerth, CG elf thief 3 (Adam)
• Mirkle, N human fighter 1 (Maya)
• Robbernar, CG elf cleric 1 (Nael)
• Bronson, human porter (NPC)
• Walgretor, half-elf porter (NPC)

Last time we played, the party looted the lair of the Stonespeaker orcs, including Quasqueton's trophy room. They gifted some taxidermized giant moose heads to their goblin friends, then moved a massive dragon hide, two pairs of mounted dragon claws, a door etched with religious symbols, and a giant's shield into a secret bedchamber to hide it from the goblins. They built a makeshift litter out of flag poles and a bearskin to carry what treasure they could safely move, then made plans to leave Quasqueton and return to Timbershore.

We picked up from there. Before leaving the dungeon, the party remembered that the orcs' lair contained a stairway down to the lower level, which apparently contained more orcs. To keep the orcs from coming upstairs while they were gone, the party spiked the door shut and barricaded it with the barrels of water they had used to block one of the doors to the orcs' lair in a previous session.

The party also remembered that there was one room in the orc lair yet to be explored. According to Numbnuts' map, it was the room containing the stone which Drak claimed to speak to. The party found the door and listened at it. They detected a smoky, tantalizing smell, like someone had been cooking within. They heard a faint voice, whimpering to itself in an unknown tongue.

They threw open the door and thrust their torch inside. The overpowering stench of roasted meat hit them in the face. In the far corner of the room, a dirty, beaten goblin crouched on the floor, recoiling from the bright light, shrieking at the party to extinguish it. A 6' tall, 4' wide rock carving sculpted from the wall depicted a horned head with a demonic, evil visage, surrounded by religious symbols and runes. A pile of coins lay at its base. The floor was black slate, a 3' deep, 5' diameter pit in its center. The pit was filled with mangled, charred body parts of all sorts of humanoid creatures.

When the party refused to extinguish their torch, the goblin slithered into the pit to hide amongst the gore. When Mirkle moved to gather the coins at the base of the carving, the goblin reached up and pawed feebly at her heels. The party learned that the goblin's name was Tobb, and that he had been left here in solitude and darkness to hear what the Stone had to say. The Stone had told Tobb that he was weak and miserable, and that the Stonespeaker would elevate him by making him a slave.

The party broke the news to Tobb that Drak had been slain, specifically by Llombaerth. This led Tobb to believe that Llombaerth was the master he had been waiting for. He became obsequious, falling at Llombaerth's feet and kissing his boots. Tobb explained that through the Stonespeakers, the Stone would butcher and slay the unworthy and make the rest of the world its slaves.

Curious, Llombaerth approached the Stone and laid his hand upon it. He could sense some sort of deep reverberation inside, ancient and powerful, but dormant, waiting. He felt a malign presence in the pit of his stomach. Llombaerth told Robbernar in Elvish that the Stone was legit, and Robbernar approached to examine the markings around it.

The markings were of no religion Robbernar recognized - not Elvish nor of any local human religion. They were consistent with markings used by pagan barbarian civilizations that once existed in the region, and the Stone itself was much older than the walls surrounding it. The party concluded that the Stone must have been here before Quasqueton was built, and that the room was constructed around it.

One thing was for sure - the Stone was dangerous, and the party would need to deal with it somehow. Llombaerth did not particularly want a goblin slave, so he managed to convince Tobb to stand guard over the chamber and ensure no goblins - or anyone else - came near it.

Finally, the party returned to the secret bedchamber and retrieved their litter of treasure. On their way out of the dungeon, they told the remaining goblins that they had found Tobb, and that he was totally nuts and dangerous. They had left him in the orcs' territory to stand guard, and he should be avoided. The goblins indicated that they would try to reason with him and bring him back into the fold, but would exercise caution in doing so.

Exiting the dungeon, the party found that they had been inside quite a while. It was 10 in the morning when they first arrived, but now it was dark. They weren't sure what time it was. Their mule was also gone, presumably stolen by their cowardly hireling, Booker, who had fled when they encountered the carrion crawler. There was no indication that the mule had been eaten or met with some other grisly fate.

Since it was already dark, the party elected to camp at the mouth of the cave leading into Quasqueton, and to start their descent in the morning. Funnily enough, in preparation for this session, I had erroneously anticipated for some reason that the party would be perfectly fine traveling in darkness, and had already determined when and if they would have random encounters on their way back to town, and what with. They had traveled for three hours in the morning and spent nine and a half hours in the dungeon, so they had three and a half hours left of travel time to use. Since they decided to camp immediately instead, I had to throw those encounters out, which is fine, since it's just rolling a few dice.

So the party made camp outside Quasqueton and passed the night eating and drinking and telling stories or whatever adventurers do around the campfire. 

Just as it was time to turn in for the night, the party spotted something at the edge of the dim light of their campfire, which spilled over down the hillside. Farther down the hill, a humanoid shape dressed in tattered rags shambled up the stairway of roots and loose stones towards the dungeon. Llombaerth moved silently down through the underbrush to get a closer look.

In the dim light of their campfire, Llombaerth was able to benefit from his infravision while also making out fine details. The figure was hunched over and moved with an awkward, shuffling gait. It was dressed in what appeared to be tattered wizard's robes. It meandered its way up the stair with difficulty, stopping every now and then to survey its surroundings, as if lost. Most unsettling of all was its lack of a heat signature.

Llombaerth followed the figure. Mirkle and Robbernar readied their bows for the creature to enter into short range, which didn't take long since it was already near. They fired a volley at it. The creature regarded the arrows as it would a swarm of gnats. Each arrow struck without effort, but all shattered upon contact with the creature's body.

The figure lifted its head to gaze upon its attackers. Beneath its hood, a pair of piercing red pinpricks of light shone through the darkness. Mirkle, Bronson, and Walgretor felt an eldritch, unnamable fear stirring in the primal part of their psyche. The sense of dread escalated into a terrifying crescendo, and all were overwhelmed with panic. They dropped what they were carrying and fled as quickly as they could back into the dungeon.

Robbernar, being an elf with 90% resistance to sleep and charm-related effects (which here I interpreted as mind-altering effects, including fear, although I have no idea if that's correct) kept his composure. He noticed that the creature's eyes were not exactly fixed on him. They seemed unfocused, staring through him, as if the mind within was clouded - if it had any mind at all. All the same, he grabbed his and Mirkle's gear and a torch and retreated cautiously into the dungeon with his companions.

That left Llombaerth still in hiding, watching what the creature did. It meandered around their camp, rifling absentmindedly through their belongings. At one point, it walked directly across the burning campfire, but regarded the heat as little more than a nuisance. It picked up the engraved plaque gifted to Erig, Quasqueton's captain of the guard, which the party had plundered from the captain's chambers. It lingered on the object for a moment, caressing the plaque and then touching its face, as if remembering something, then stowed the plaque in its robes.

It approached the entrance to the dungeon, stopped at the threshold, and peered inside for a long while. Then it turned and headed back down the hill. Llombaerth hid in the shadows to avoid being spotted and watched it go. After traveling a short distance, it vanished into thin air.

Inside the dungeon, the rest of the party ran around in panic and terror as Robbernar and the goblins attempted to calm them. It took 15 minutes for them to settle down, during which time Llombaerth rejoined them.

After describing their experience, the goblins concluded that the party had encountered the Ghost of Quasqueton, a terrifying and powerful entity which prowls the hills at night. The goblins told the party that they were lucky the Ghost did not demand that they surrender all their treasure. The party discussed who the Ghost might be. Was it Erig? Zelligar? Someone else? A new mystery to be uncovered, perhaps!

Not wanting to encounter something like that again, the party decided to bunk with the goblins inside the dungeon. Bronson slept beneath one of the giant moose heads and had some nightmares, but otherwise the night passed uneventfully.

The following morning, the party set off down the hillside. A light wind was rustling through the trees, but otherwise the weather was fair. The descent would normally take three hours, but since four members of the party were encumbered by the litter, it would instead take four. It was a strenuous hike down winding switchbacks over the treacherous stairway of roots and loose stone, but they made their way down without incident.

They pushed on through the forest. It would normally take four hours to reach the river at the forest's edge, but at their current pace it would take closer to five. By the end of the day, they were still in the forest, so they made camp.

Once again, just as it was about time to retire for the evening, Mirkle spotted a pair of large, lumbering animals encircling their camp on either side, just at the edge of their campfire's light. They appeared to be bears, but they weren't simply passing through. They were hunting the party. Mirkle alerted the rest of the party, and the creatures broke through the undergrowth. They were huge, vicious bears...with the heads of owls!

The party knew that if they were to survive, they would need to make the creatures flee, rather than fight them. They urged Bronson and Walgretor to brandish torches towards the creatures. Walgretor refused, paralyzed by fear. Mirkle scattered caltrops on the ground between her and one of the owlbears. Bronson proved to be braver than Walgretor. He lit a torch in the campfire and stood with Mirkle, waving the fiery end at the approaching owlbear. Robbernar stood ready to receive a charge from the second owlbear, and Llombaerth flung a flask of flaming oil at it. The flask struck the charging owlbear, setting it ablaze.

The first owlbear stumbled over Mirkle's caltrops, which prevented it from threatening the party this round. The flaming owlbear lumbered towards Robbernar and was cut by his longsword. It retaliated with a claw that struck Robbernar (hitting AC -1!), but did only 1 damage. Robbernar's shield just barely caught the second claw. Unfortunately, the owlbear hit AC -3 (!!) with its beak for 10 damage, rolling two 5s on 2d6. The owlbear fell upon Robbernar, its sharp, hooked beak tearing his throat open in a bloody spray.

For the second consecutive expedition, Nael's character was killed in the forest in the night by a random encounter. He got lucky with the minimum damage roll from the owlbear's claw, but even then, he had 7 hit points left with a 2d6 attack to follow, which would do an average of 7 damage. He didn't have much of a chance. He was a good sport about it. We all laughed at how brutal and absurd the whole situation was.

The following round, I made morale checks for the owlbears. Surprisingly, the more wounded owlbear which was actively on fire passed its check, even with a penalty to the roll, while the barely wounded owlbear with no penalty failed its check by quite a lot. The combination of caltrops and Bronson's torch forced the first owlbear to flee. The second one had a taste for blood, and not even the flames burning its flesh could deter it now.

Bronson once again proved to be braver than is wise, moving to brandish his torch in front of the remaining owlbear. Llombaerth lobbed another flask of oil, which missed badly and set the trees alight, the breeze feeding the flames. Mirkle set to receive the owlbear's charge with her spear, but Bronson was in the way.

The owlbear continued to burn, but was in a frenzy. It lurched forward and with one swipe of its claw knocked Bronson's head clean off his shoulders. Again, brutal and absurd and more than a little funny.

It pressed on and took a wound from Mirkle's spear. Since she was set to receive a charge, it did double damage, but she rolled just 2 and 3 on 2d8.

Finally, the owlbear's morale broke, and it fled. Llombaerth pursued it and put an arrow it the back of its head, killing it as it fled.

With that, we wrapped the session. This was a good one! The party finally found the Stone That Speaks and learned that there's more to it than they initially thought. They encountered the Ghost of Quasqueton and are now pondering over its true identity. They also had their scariest encounter yet and escaped by the skin of their teeth, with yet another elf dying in the forest, and their brave and loyal Day 1 hireling meeting his end as well.

The Stone is an element of B1 that is a nothingburger as written, which I fleshed out, the Ghost is the result of a random wilderness encounter that I decided to riff on, and the owlbears are creatures with a lair elsewhere in the forest, which I added when I first created the sandbox way back in December, so it's neat to see all these elements come to the foreground in one session.

At the end of the session the party had just three surviving members, which is not enough to carry the litter back to town, but they might be rejoined by Rory next session, and I have a feeling that a certain elf is going to come wandering through the forest in search of his father...

1d10 Halflings and their 1d4 Dogs

My goblin post was fun, and it gave me a hankering to do something similar with halflings. Why halflings? Well, mostly because I like that in AD&D, every halfling has 1d4 dogs:

I have long been fascinated with halflings' penchant for having lots of dogs. In AD&D, a halfling lair has 30-300 adult combatants, the same number of adult noncombatants, and 60% as many noncombatant children. Depending on how you interpret the above, a halfling village will have from 30 to 3,120 dogs (average either ~412 to ~1,072 dogs). That's a lot of dogs!

My sandbox for Dungeon Module B3: Palace of the Silver Princess describes Mere, a halfling village of some 300 halflings with a like number of dogs (the famous Dogs of Mere) who serve as scouts, trackers, sentries, pack animals, messengers, and mounts, and are integral to the village's role in the anti-Gulluvian resistance network. The halfling dogs are essential companions to the halfling lifestyle!

Typically, these dogs are only found in the halflings' lair (their shire or whatever), but I don't see why a pair of halflings wandering the wilderness couldn't also be accompanied by their six dogs. And since these dogs are so important to the halfling way of life, I see no reason not to give them a little loving detail as well.

Now, the Monster Manual says that all halfling dogs have the statistics of a "wild dog", suggesting lean, workmanlike mutts, but this seems a bit boring to me, so my halfling dogs are going to have a bit more variety.

Something I did differently this time was to roll to determine whether a halfling was an adult combatant, an adult noncombatant, or a child. Per the AD&D Monster Manual:

Now, this does say "in their lair", suggesting halfling children never leave the place, but I personally feel that there should be a chance of encountering a halfling child wandering the countryside with their dogs in tow. I also interpreted the Gygaxian "females" (the implication being that they are not warriors) to instead mean "noncombatant adults", because I'm woke.

For each halfling, I rolled d100. A result of 01 to 38 would be an adult warrior, 39 to 76 would be a noncombatant adult, and 77 to 100 would be a child. Include more children in your games! That's one of many things that Gygax was really thorough about doing, even if the implication of their inclusion in Gygaxian AD&D is rather grim. It's especially funny when the children are Evil.

I also rolled for the relative age of each adult halfling (01 to 65: Young adult, 66-85: Middle-aged, 86-95: Old, and 96-100: Venerable) and for "subrace" (according to this 75% are Hairfoot, 15% are Stout, and 10% are Tallfellow), although this doesn't add much except to make them more like Elves or more like Dwarves and to change up their preferred weaponry a bit.

I eased up a bit on randomizing mechanical elements like movement rate, but continued to randomize alignment, intelligence, and morale as those are meatier statistics that give the individual halflings more unique personalities.

Without further adieu, here are 1d10 halflings and their 1d4 dogs:

1. Corin Thistlethorn (LE): 3 hp. A male Hairfoot child (AC 9). Thin and sharp-featured, with dark brown curls and keen grey eyes. His clothes are surprisingly tidy for a child. Although young, he is more intelligent than the average halfling (Int 14). He quietly observes conversations before joining in, and adults sometimes find his questions uncomfortably perceptive. He is selfish and manipulative and enjoys bending rules, knowing secrets, keeping score of favors, and figuring out how to gain advantages over his peers. He is tight-lipped around strangers, evaluating them carefully before deciding whether they are allies or people to avoid (neutral). Treasure: A carefully organized collection of bird feathers, insects, and unusual stones, a slate tablet and chalk used for keeping lists, small wooden tokens representing debts and favors owed by other children, and a pocketknife (no value). Corin has 2 dogs:
1. Bracken: A tan rabbit hound. Curious about everything, he has a habit of bringing interesting trinkets to Corin. Terrified by storms.
2. Soot: A black terrier with mismatched eyes. He distrusts strangers and watches them with the same suspicious scrutiny as his master.
2. Della Copperpot (LN): 3 hp. A middle-aged female Stout. Sturdy and broad-hipped, with weathered tan skin and dark auburn hair streaked with gray. Thick eyebrows and deep-set brown eyes. Simple, durable clothing with no armor (AC 9). Wields a hammer and short bow (+3 to hit). She will defend herself and the village if need be, but is more prone to flight than the average halfling, preferring to retreat and regroup rather than stand her ground (Morale 8). Believes strongly in duty, tradition, and minding one's business. Direct. Dislikes unnecessary chatter. Judges by actions rather than first impressions (neutral). Treasure: A leather roll of woodworking tools (3 sp), a carved wooden mallet (1 sp), a tin box containing spare bowstrings, wax, and fletching supplies (2 sp), and a belt pouch containing 2 silver pieces. Della has 4 dogs:
1. Copper: Black and white farm dog with a crooked tail. Very excitable and has to be leashed at all times.
2. Flintlock: A gray sheepdog. Normally calm and dependable, but becomes anxious and seeks company when storms approach.
3. Nettles: A brown terrier who barks constantly, announcing every visitor, squirrel, passing wagon, and fallen leaf.
4. Pansy: A white spaniel, always covered in mud. Loves swimming to wash it off, then rolls in the muddy banks once she's finished.
3. Hilda Ironkettle (LE): 2 hp. A young adult female Stout. Compact and broad-shouldered, with dark chestnut hair worn in braids. Square-jawed with a small scar beneath her chin. Studded leather and shield (AC 5), morning star, and short bow (+3 to hit). Believes in order, discipline, and looking after her own interests. Not as quick as most halflings (Int 10), but extraordinarily difficult to intimidate or discourage (Morale 16). Greets strangers with a firm handshake and direct questions, quickly determining whether she can use them to her advantage (friendly). Treasure: A whetstone and weapon maintenance kit (3 sp), a sturdy iron lock and key (3 sp), a brass whistle (1 sp), a pair of rabbit fur gloves (2 sp), and a belt pouch containing 3 silver pieces. Hilda has 1 dog:
1. Flint: A large and muscular black and tan mastiff with a deep growl. Shadows Hilda constantly and is big enough for her to ride.
4. Marigold Brambletoe (LG): 5 hp. A young adult female Hairfoot. Lean and athletic with tan skin. She wears practical country clothing and keeps her curly brown hair tied back with a strip of green cloth. Shield (AC 8), hand axe, and short bow (+3 to hit). A shepherd and rabbit hunter who will defend herself and the village if needed, but prefers avoiding danger (Morale 10). Polite but cautious. She prefers to observe a stranger's actions before judging their character (neutral). Treasure: A leather pouch containing 30 silver sling bullets (3 sp), a rabbit fur-lined waterskin strap decorated with smooth and shiny river stones (2 sp), a carved wooden whistle (1 sp), a 20' length of hempen rope (2 sp), and a belt pouch containing 3 silver pieces. Marigold has 4 dogs:
1. Cricket: A fearless brown terrier missing an ear. Will charge barking at animals several times his size. 
2. Digger: A stubborn tan farm dog who refuses to relinquish a bone and often buries them to save for later, quickly forgetting where he put them.
3. Fern: A black and white sheepdog with an adept understanding of whistles and hand signals.
4. Willow: An excessively friendly white spaniel who is quick to show her belly to strangers.
5. Milo Greenbottle (LG): 1 hp. A young adult male Hairfoot. Broad-shouldered and sunburned. Dark brown hair cropped short. Leather armor (AC 7) and hand axe. A part-time woodsman and trapper who will defend himself and the village if needed. He readily offers directions, local gossip, or a meal to adventurers (friendly). Treasure: A well-maintained sharpening stone in a leather pouch (3 sp), a set of three iron rabbit snares (4 sp), a carved wooden militia badge (2 sp), and a small belt pouch containing 4 silver pieces. Milo has 2 dogs:
1. Patch: A clever black and white sheepdog. Loves wagon rides. Fiercely protective of Milo.
2. Thistle: A tan rabbit hound that eagerly follows scents but is easily distracted by squirrels. Howls at the full moon.
6. Myrtle Goodbarrel (LG): 5 hp. An old adult female Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Short and round-faced, with a mass of white curls bursting from her bonnet. Kindly but unfocused blue eyes. Laugh lines and rough hands. She has a habit of forgetting what she was saying halfway through a conversation, forgetting names, and repeating stories. and is confused by complicated explanation of unfamiliar ideas (Int 5). She has a warm heart and generous spirit and is eager to help and quick to trust those who behave kindly (helpful). Treasure: A hand-knitted wool shawl with simple floral patterns (3 sp), a wll-used silver cooking spoon (2 sp), a basket containing several jars of berry preserves (3 sp), and a cloth purse containing 3 silver pieces. Myrtle has 1 dog:
1. Buttercup: A brown lap dog that greets nearly everyone as though they were a long-lost friend. Blind and always underfoot.
7. Neddo Burrows (N): 2 hp. A male Hairfoot child (AC 9). Small and wiry with unruly chestnut hair and a scatter of freckles. Grass stains on clothing. Curious and adventurous around friends, he becomes shy, suspicious, and rude in the presence of strangers (unfriendly). He may hide behind a fence or in bushes, refuse to answer questions, or insist on being left alone. Treasure: A homemade wooden toy boat, a toy sling, and a collection of interesting stones and bird feathers (no value). Neddo has 1 dog:
1. Snap: A scruffy black terrier pup that barks constantly at strangers and chases anything that moves. More noisy than useful. Digs holes constantly - a source of frustration for Neddo's parents.
8. Odo Tealeaf (N): 5 hp. A middle-aged male Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Stocky and weathered, with a broad nose, rosy cheeks, and a thick mop of curly black hair graying at the temples. Wears a comfortable faded green vest, loose linen shirt, and sturdy trousers with patches. Gathers herbs, mushrooms, and berries to sell in nearby settlements. He enjoys meeting new people and is usually willing to share gossip, directions, or advice (friendly). Treasure: A wicker basket containing bundles of dried herbs (3 sp), a well-made knife with a curved iron blade (3 sp), a small jar of blackberry preserves (2 sp), and a leather pouch containing 4 silver pieces. Odo has 4 dogs:
1. Old Bran: A gray farm dog with arthritis. Moves slowly on cold mornings and walks with a limp.
2. Poppy: A brown and white spaniel that investigates every unfamiliar scent, object, and visitor. No concept of personal space.
3. Rascal: A black terrier that begs constantly and is prone to stealing food.
4. Tumble: A tan rabbit hound unable to distinguish cats from dogs.
9. Rosie Hayfoot (LG): 3 hp. A middle-aged female Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Plump and cheerful, with graying auburn curls in a loose braid. Wears a patched dress beneath a sturdy apron with pockets for sewing supplies, dog treats, and other odds and ends. Known for raising dogs, mending clothing, and helping travelers in need of food or directions. She gladly shares local information and offers any hospitality she can (helpful). Treasure: A basket of fine sewing supplies (3 sp), a hand-carved wooden dog comb decorated with simple floral patterns (2 sp), a small tin box containing dried medicinal herbs (2 sp), and a leather purse containing 3 silver pieces. Rosie has 4 dogs:
1. Button: A gray lap dog which fetches dropped items and warns Rosie of visitors. Seems to understand far more speech than most dogs.
2. Cloud: A white farm dog which spends most of its day napping in the sun, requiring considerable encouragement to move.
3. Hazel: A brown spaniel that accompanies Rosie on walks and fetches sticks from ponds. Happily tolerates having her ears pulled, and often follows along with halfling youngsters.
4. Tinker: A sharp black and tan terrier that keeps vermin out of Rosie's pantry and woodshed. Chases squirrels obsessively.
10. Tobin Underbough (LG): 4 hp. A highly intelligent (Int 13) young adult male Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Slim, with sandy-brown curls, hazel eyes, and a thoughtful expression. Dressed in a neat brown waistcoat with pockets for notebooks and pencils. Ink- and soil-stained hands. Enjoys reading almanacs, keeping careful records of planting dates, and breeding dogs. Politely cautious towards adventurers until proven trustworthy (neutral). Cowardly (Morale 5). Treasure: A well-used leather-bound planting journal filled with notes on crop rotations and weather observations (4 sp), a carved wooden whistle (2 sp), a brass-rimmed magnifying lens (3 sp), and a wool coin purse contain 2 silver pieces. Tobin has 3 dogs:
1. Brindle: A black and tan spaniel who always has a stick in his mouth. Greets guests with the stick, eager for them to throw it.
2. Moss: A tan mixed-breed farm dog, quiet and watchful. Sleeps belly-up.
3. Pip: A brown and white terrier trained to keep rats and mice away from granaries. Missing the tip of one ear from an encounter with a particularly fearsome barn rat. Distrusts strangers, barking furiously until Tobin assures him they're welcome.