The Fall of Emermeraan: Play Report 01
After publishing The Fall of Emermeraan over a year ago, I've finally had the chance to run it for a group myself. I'll be posting the play reports here, where I'll chronicle the sessions and share some of the thoughts I've had while running it.
The campaign concerns itself with a city that is doomed to be forgotten, unless its last remaining inhabitants can lift the curse (by truth-telling). In order to have a hope of doing so, they must grow strong enough to challenge it by gathering the city's scattered treasures from the hinterland beyond, and by boasting to its glory.
We have a very limited number of sessions to play through it, so I've decided to add the following twist to the original premise: an eclipse is approaching, and once it is complete (i.e. at the end of our last scheduled session), the curse that hangs over the city will become unalterable. I've also made advancement a full increase in level, rather than split between attributes.
I'm hoping both these changes will help with a more condensed format, and I'd suggest a similar structure if you don't have the time for a more open-ended campaign.
The Children come of age. See them stir with the stirring of the sun. See them stride the barren streets to the Hall of Dorodain, to the chamber of the swords.
Among them, only three are brave enough to answer their ancestor's call:
- Kal, Bearer of the Sword of Caladan, who will die for his city by beheading.
- Emyn, Bearer of the Sword of Kessimer, who will die for his city by speaking a lie.
- Little Styr, Bearer of the Sword of Wyr, who has yet to die for his city.
All were born on the same day, twelve years ago. Their age is left purposefully vague in the text, but if you make them actual children, you get a gold star.
Naming characters can be hard, especially when players are first being introduced to a world. I recommended they borrow syllables/sounds from the sword they had chosen, and I like how this created a sense of cohesion and resonance between the bearer and their sword.
Long have they sheltered in the city's cradle, reared by statues, nursed on dreams. Long have they wandered, yet never beyond the city's mighty walls, until this day.
They ride out through the north gate, ever-guarded by the statues of Tomer and Throm, the Lion and the Lamb. They pass beyond their power now.
Beyond the city's walls, a sea of grey grass rolls on for miles. A high hill rises northwest of the city, and a watchtower stands upon it. In ancient days, it guarded the highway from monsters in the mountains, and for that it was named Eran Dorul. Now, it crumbles.
The Children ride for it, but halt at the hill's base, for they hear the sound of a great bellows, low and slow, echoing Eran Dorul's dome. They did not approach cautiously, so I gave them a 2-in-6 chance to hear the wyvern before entering the tower. Lucky for them, they succeeded.
Little Styr is unafraid. Sword skyward, raised to the hidden sun, he boasts:
"I will climb to the peak of Eran Dorul."
His nimble hands do not fail him, but the stones of the roof are long past their youth. The dome falls, as does Little Styr. With the tower being in such disrepair, I gave the stones only a 2-in-6 chance of holding — hence why climbing the ruin counted as a boast.
Kal and Emyn draw swords and rush in. They spy no sign of their companion in the shade beyond the pillars.
Instead, two eyes greet them, golden and horrible. It wakes, shedding its slumber, baring its teeth, raising its stinger, stretching its wings, and revealing the piles of gold beneath.
Emyn stands his ground, and sheathes his blade. The note that rings out is the song of heaven. At its sound, the scaled beast is enraptured. When sheathed, the Sword of Kessimer has a 2-in-6 chance of entrancing all enemies who hear it, due to Kessimer's enduring twink energy.
In the stillness that follows, Little Styr emerges from a cloak of dust and shadow to rejoin his companions, unharmed. They rejoice, and embrace one another. The Sword of Wyr makes the bearer invisible when standing completely still. Styr's companions distracted the wyvern before it had a chance to sniff him out.
Yet the spell that tamed the beast will not last forever. The Sword of Kessimer's power is vague in this regard, but I ruled that it lasts only as long as they stay nearby. If they leave and return, the spell will be broken, and will never work on that foe again.
After a moment's hesitation, the Children take their chance to flee from the tower's shade, and continue northwest, putting Eran Dorul behind them.
As morning wanes, they find a fertile valley that still recalls the face of the sun. Its grass is not grey, but golden, and soft as hair. A herd of aurochs fill their bellies to the brim.
The Children encircle the herd and drive them south, back towards the watchtower, back towards the fell beast within. Perhaps such bait may be enough to draw the beast from its gold. There were 19 aurochs rolled here, so I rolled 1d20 to determine how many were lost. They managed to herd 11 in total. The aurochs remember their old masters, so this was not too difficult a feat.
The scheme would've be a canny one, yet the tower stands empty. Since some time had past and it had just been disturbed, I re-rolled to determine if the wyvern was in its lair. It was not.
Joy abounds in the hearts of the Children. The treasure glimmers, unguarded, and the city lies close at hand. They make haste to gather as much as they can carry.
Yet they are not alone.
They do not hear the four figures approach, pale and rag-bound, masked in stone. At the beginning of the day, I rolled an encounter with four orcs. I like checking for an encounter over such a broad period. It allows you to introduce the encounter at the time that is most reasonable. In this case, it made sense that a small band of orcs heard the watchtower crumble, and sent scouts to investigate.
The day-masks of the orcs do little to hide their hate. Yet their leader offers mercy: they may flee unhindered, as long as the treasures are left behind. I rolled a positive reaction. The orcs are hinted at within the text having the greatest enmity for the city, so this seemed about the best they would offer.
The Children refuse. Emyn sheathes the Sword of Kessimer, and its song entrances two. Little Styr draws the Sword of Wyr, and disappears in the shade of a pillar. Kal pulls the Sword of Caladan across his palm, and the wind blows cold as it drinks his blood. Which removes a hit point, in exchange for a +1 bonus. There's also a chance of summoning a storm, but this does not occur.
Fear stains the masks of the orcs, yet the two remaining charge. I rolled a morale check here, which they succeeded. I may not have rolled it at night, but during the day, orcs are more skittish.
A stone axe swings. Blood spills. A grey sword clatters to the ground, and Kal's head falls with it.
The leader offers them mercy once more, and once more it is refused. Before the orcs have time to attack, Emyn speaks:
"The death of Kal was naught but a dream."
There is a moment when fair Emyn believes his words to ring true with the world. Yet, as he turns to dust, his lie is revealed to all.
The first and only truth-tell of the session was an ambitious one. It lies on the edge of what I imagined might be accomplished with this magic, but I still chose to roll 1d100 against Emyn's 1d12+1. I told the player the odds beforehand, in order to ensure they knew the stakes of what they were attempting to accomplish.
Alone, Little Styr casts down the treasures of his city, and picks up the swords of his fallen kin. The orcs grant him one last kindness, and let him flee. I rolled reaction here, and it was another positive one from the leader. He is a merciful one, it seems.
Atop his loyal steed, Little Styr raises his black blade towards the tower. The shadows of the afternoon sun grow long. The wind carries his voice, and his boast spoken soft and true:
"You will not see me again, but I will kill every one of you."
Then, alone, he rides back to his city.
So closes the first chapter of our little campaign. Technically, we played for a half-hour more, but I'll include those details in the following play report.
I'm quite happy a mortal enemy emerged from a random encounter right away. Random encounters are kind of common in Fall of Emermeraan, but also there's a lot of conditional ones for specific lairs, so that'll be something I'll have to feel out as we play
I feel very lucky to have a group of players who really threw themselves in to the experience and understood the assignment. They mentioned finding the descriptions of the swords an easy way to "get" the world we'd be playing in, and it might be something I do more of in other games in the future.
When I wrote The Fall of Emermeraan, I purposefully set out to make fairly sparse hexfills (no more than a paragraph in most cases) that were pretty much disconnected from one another, except in mood.
Now that I've finally got it to the table, I do feel that this approach helped to highlight the strength of the hexcrawl, that being: the whole is always more than the sum of its parts. I'm looking forward to seeing the world come further to life as the Children set out again, with two new fresh faces.