Whew

That was an ordeal.  Locked out of the account, then life hit.  Next thing I knew it was a new year, jobs and kids and ups and downs.  Every time I try to get this blog off the ground, they keep pulling me in!  Anyway, back.  Not much now but gathering my thoughts.  We've been off and on with playing AD&D style D&D.  Other games have come and gone, and with the kids having jobs, our oldest getting ready for college, and just the general demands of life, spending inordinate amounts of time planning for make believe knights battling make believe dragons must take a back seat.

Nonetheless, we still have our times.  Here is a bit of inspiration.  This is the dungeon.  I remember Rodney, one of the fellow in high school who introduced me to the game in the early 80s, copying this on a sheet of graph paper.  In our neck of the woods, graph paper was for shop class, and possibly certain higher math classes.  That was it.  So seeing him put pencil to rare and wonderful graph paper and copy this beauty?  Magic.  And that it was the location for my first time out playing just added to it.  Needless to say, this occupies a major place in my Greyhawk campaign, being in the southern regions of moors in Furyondy, the base kingdom for my party.

Here it is, for all its eye candy glory:

You have to love it.  One of the best D&D maps ever.  It looks like a floor plan that could, compared to most, realistically be found beneath some sprawling religious edifice.  The crypts have widened corridors.  You can almost feel the low, arched ceilings.  The single, large ceremonial chamber that brings the fallen to the crypts.  The smaller, tighter rooms for the cellars section.  It is real.  Or at least as real as you'll get in a world of 10' by 10' underground chambers and hallways.

It is the location for the main goal of our first adventure.  And we have yet to get back to it. After losing the wizard (who came back since he's a wererat and wasn't actually killed by silver), the party broke and we rerolled a newer, lower level party.  Soon they will join again, and hopefully hie to the legendary cellars and crypts beneath the ruins of Elthrage Monastery.


"In the 308th year of the Common Reckoning, the last High Abbot of Elthrage, Eustides, returned to the monastery of Veluna City. According to accounts, he was 'bare of foot and in rags, dirt covered and trembling.'"

From the Notes on the History of Elthrage Monastery
Frandan of Thornberg
523 CY

A brief explanation of the blog title

Again, I've played D&D only a few times, and began this round a few years ago at the prompting of my sons.  Since they were relatively young, I took on the job of DM.  My wife also jumped on board, though she had far less experience or interest in the field than I ever did.   But there we were.  It was their first adventure, in none other than the old Haunted Keep from the Basic Instructions.  Complete with wererat and everything.

One of my pet philosophies is the idea that the whole world is, essentially, a giant dungeon.  The players can go anywhere they wish.  Likewise, where they go may not be where they should.   Within a dungeon's environment, that is also the case.  The presence of a room or monster or mystery does not always mean they should investigate now.  They can come back later when they are more prepared.

Still, it was early in our gaming days, and we were all learning.  I left hints that there was something really, really and I mean really dangerous for their first level party.  They didn't heed the warnings, and came face to face with a wererat they were neither prepared nor equipped to fight.  Because they had no experience, and didn't know the monsters, barely the rules, or anything, they had no clue what they were up against. 

I had shown them a recently killed goblin (which I generically call 'orcs') as one of several warnings.  As they swung and hit and swung and hit, doing no damage and getting frustrated, they began calling out for ideas or thoughts on what to do.  One suggested fire, another suggested running.  Someone suggested throwing a torch.  Still another suggested hand to hand combat.  Finally, my second oldest son blurted out, in reference to the dead goblin, 'throw the orc!' 

We laughed for so long it's been forever etched in my mind.  I was trying to think of some title for the blog, something catchy, something unique, something original.  Instead, I went with what made the game a keeper for us several years ago when we started playing.  They did survive, with some gracious help on my part.  They vow to return someday.  But for now, that's the origins of the blog's title.  For what it's worth.