Note: This is an old draft, slightly reworked. I think it makes some valid points, but I'm doubting the distillation argument a bit. Concretely, it now seems to me that what is actually reducing overhead is presenting lore through things that the referee can relay verbatim to the players, or that the players can read themselves in the book. If this is true, it also includes less-spectacular things like boxed text and actual lore sections. Because of this, I've added a note on how distilling lore into fragments could be useful anyway.
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I've been thinking about a sort of distillation process for presenting lore through in-game objects and locations. This has to do with my fascination with patterns and hidden meaning in rpg products. What I call "patterns" here is essentially what happens when presenting setting through a wandering monster table. Consider this small encounter table
25% giant scorpion
50% gnolls
25% nomads
From this table, you can infer that the region is sparsely populated by humans, dominated by gnolls, and that it is arid - a steppe or even a desert. From the monsters, you can also conclude that the region is rather dangerous. Giant scorpions are 7HD, and gnolls are about 5HD. So as a consequence, the nomads would either be capable fighters themselves, or have some reliable way of hiding. All of these things can be learned from the encounter table. All referee-facing descriptions of the region could therefore focus on other things. But the encounter table will also convey things to the players, by just existing. For example, if the players spend time in this region, they should soon learn that the most common encounter is gnolls, that scorpions and nomads are equally frequent, and what the general threat level of the region is.
This is the idea about a "pattern": to take advantage of aspects of the game that is communicated directly from the designer to the player, to say something about the world. Say for example that in this game, Druids are worse than Clerics: they get worse bonuses and less powerful options, etc. Even if the rules never state this, players will eventually figure it out. Or the online community will. And once people realize this, they won't play Druids unless they are highly committed. And so, via selection you have created a setting where Clerics are common and Druids are very invested, or where an new faith is replacing an old through numbers and resisted through zeal, without writing a single word about it in your game book.
My point here is that there is information about the setting that is hard-coded into the rules and procedures, and therefore external to the referee's rulings, and that can be exploited to create consistency and predictability without increased overhead.
But other aspects of the game can serve this function too. Building on Kyana's analysis of layered lore in Dark Souls, I'd like to contend that a) lore can be presented in fragments instead of info-dumps; b) this can lead to more, rather than less, engagement in the lore; and c) the resultant head-canon can be highly aligned with the "intended" canon, if supported by codified things that convey setting directly to the players.
I imagine a distillation process that goes something like this:
You begin with a raw lore statement, say: giants used to live here.
From the implications of that statement - giants lived, have now died -
you extract a specific, representative event (1). Say: Queen Yssa, last
of the Giants, trading her kingdom for the corpses of her
warrior-children.
From this event, you extract the material and
mythical remnants (2). The hall where she surrendered her kingdom, the
Giant crown she handed over, the great cart that carried the bodies, the
broken armor of her daughters, the all-consuming sorrow, the Giants'
tomb.
Then, you transform these remnants to game-objects, with uses,
names, descriptions and locations (3). So the hall becomes a location on
the map, the crown remains a crown, the cart might become a cart-wheel
shield, armor is armor, sorrow becomes a spell or magical object, tomb
becomes a location.
Finally (4), the game objects are given names and
descriptions that alludes to the original event through association
rather than explicitly. So the once hall-now location might become
"Yssa's Surrender. A ruined palace of giant proportions, ravaged by war.
It is considered sacred by those who grieve".
Like the encounter table, this information is transmitted directly from the game to the players, without increasing referee overhead: the players look at the map, note the location Yssa's surrender, and are free to draw their own conclusions how this relates to the giant crown they found last session, aided by their observations that there are no giants here anymore (but they fought skeleton giants), and that there is a spell in the spell list that induces a sadness that is too large for any human heart.
Addendum: Success is probably limited to rather basic setting ideas. However, as a rule of thumb, most good settings can be reduced to a limited set of basic ideas. (A Fascist space-faring empire in decline, venerating a dead feudal lord, locked in eternal war. Settler-colonists fleeing a necromantic war, hunting for treasures in a cursed forest. Etc). So if nothing else, the distillation process might help reinforce a theme and weed out everything unnecessary, making the lore more engaging even if you decide to go with the lore dump anyway.
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lördag 16 november 2019
måndag 1 april 2019
The clue probability rule
(I'll return to posting gameable content shortly.)
Most everyone on the internet is familiar with Alexandrian's three clue rule. The stipulation of that rule is that players are likely to miss some of your prepped content, which also includes any given clue. So to give the players a decent chance of progressing through a investigation-adventure, you need more than one clue leading to the conclusion, or to any breakthroughs that eventually lead to the conclusion. True to its name, the rule states that the perfect number of clues for each breakthrough is three.
I like this rule, for two reasons.
First, it means that each breakthrough is overdetermined: there is more than one path leading you there. This, to me, was a central thing in Masks of Nyarlathotep. You had a hunch from the beginning that you were going to Africa, but it felt very distant and hard to justify - what were you going to do there? With each new clue, you became more and more confident that you were actually going to Africa, up until the point where it seemed like the only reasonable thing to do. So basically, each new clue reinforces those you already have. Maybe you were already sure that Mr Vardis was a killer, but confronting him at this point seemed to carry so high costs. And then you learn that he is about to strike again, and suddenly acting becomes more urgent.
Second, and conversely, it also gives the adventure a branching structure. As there are always too many leads to follow up, the players will have to prioritize and consider what-if scenarios. Once the killer is caught they have perhaps seen 75% of your prep, so they still might not know what was the deal with Mr Vardis' prize-winning kennel. This makes the world seem bigger and the mystery more engaging.
In sum, the three-clue rule recasts a linear adventure to a dungeon-structure, where clues lead to new locations and breakthroughs in the investigation much like doors and corridors lead to new rooms.
However, this also shows some problems with the three-clue rule.
If we take the dungeon analogy seriously, we should accept that it isn't just a version of a linear adventure. Most dungeons don't have a straight-line progression to the end. And most dungeons are ok with you not reaching the end. If we were to apply these aspects of dungeon design, there would not always be three clues leading to the next revelation. Often there might just be one, and sometimes it would be hidden. And if the PCs don't find it they'll have to backtrack or even give up. And other times there would be clues that lead more than one step ahead in the investigation. So instead of 3 clues leading to A where 3 new clues lead to B etc, you'd have something more akin to a web.
However, even if we switch up our three clue investigation in this way - making sure that there are not just clues leading from A to B but also clues from B to A and from A to B via X and Y - we run into the problem of direction. Once you've reached C, it makes little sense to return to A because C is closer to the final conclusion than A. This is the same as in a dungeon, where you progress from the point of entry towards the central treasure through deeper and deeper levels.
If you want an even greater level of freedom in your investigation, your clues must be meaningful even in the presence of other clues. This is the rationale behind the guess-who structure and the triangulation (or venn-structure, as Kyana pointed out), described earlier. Here, all clues carry equal weight so as long as you're still uncertain about the solution, you gain from seeking and finding new clues.
For this type of investigation, I'd like to propose another rule for clues: the clue probability rule.
For each conclusion that you want the PCs to make, include a clue that they have a probability of finding whenever they make an effort to find it.
Say that you have a murder weapon: a knife with a easily recognizable look that would lead you to the smith who made it whom in turn could provide a list of clients. The knife must be somewhere. So we decide that it is in the pond, close to the scene of murder. Now if the PCs would look in the pond, they would definitely find it. So the clue probability is 100%. But perhaps they don't, because how would they guess that it is there? Instead, they might investigate the wounds. They can determine it's a knife without problem, but could they also conclude that this type of knife is made by Brambly the smith? I dunno. 1 in 6. Otherwise they just learn that the knife must have curious proportions. So maybe they ask a smith, or an assassin for help. 1 in 3. Or ask witnesses. 50% chance. The scrap-finder kids or pawn shops? 10% per day has passed since the murder. And so on.
The point here is that instead of designing several clues leading to the same conclusion (or in addition to), you design a clue that there's always a chance of finding whenever the characters make an effort to find it.
The three clue structure. A breadcrumb trail where multiple clues lead from A to B and multiple clues from B to C. Almost fail safe, given the plurality of clues to each conclusion. Some agency, allows for story arc.
The dungeon structure. A web of breadcrumb trails leading between A, B and C through multiple clues. Failure is unlikely. Good agency, story is largely emergent.
The open structure. A limited set of clues of equal (or similar) importance, which can be found through many different approaches. Failure is possible. High agency, no story arc.
Most everyone on the internet is familiar with Alexandrian's three clue rule. The stipulation of that rule is that players are likely to miss some of your prepped content, which also includes any given clue. So to give the players a decent chance of progressing through a investigation-adventure, you need more than one clue leading to the conclusion, or to any breakthroughs that eventually lead to the conclusion. True to its name, the rule states that the perfect number of clues for each breakthrough is three.
I like this rule, for two reasons.
First, it means that each breakthrough is overdetermined: there is more than one path leading you there. This, to me, was a central thing in Masks of Nyarlathotep. You had a hunch from the beginning that you were going to Africa, but it felt very distant and hard to justify - what were you going to do there? With each new clue, you became more and more confident that you were actually going to Africa, up until the point where it seemed like the only reasonable thing to do. So basically, each new clue reinforces those you already have. Maybe you were already sure that Mr Vardis was a killer, but confronting him at this point seemed to carry so high costs. And then you learn that he is about to strike again, and suddenly acting becomes more urgent.
Second, and conversely, it also gives the adventure a branching structure. As there are always too many leads to follow up, the players will have to prioritize and consider what-if scenarios. Once the killer is caught they have perhaps seen 75% of your prep, so they still might not know what was the deal with Mr Vardis' prize-winning kennel. This makes the world seem bigger and the mystery more engaging.
In sum, the three-clue rule recasts a linear adventure to a dungeon-structure, where clues lead to new locations and breakthroughs in the investigation much like doors and corridors lead to new rooms.
However, this also shows some problems with the three-clue rule.
If we take the dungeon analogy seriously, we should accept that it isn't just a version of a linear adventure. Most dungeons don't have a straight-line progression to the end. And most dungeons are ok with you not reaching the end. If we were to apply these aspects of dungeon design, there would not always be three clues leading to the next revelation. Often there might just be one, and sometimes it would be hidden. And if the PCs don't find it they'll have to backtrack or even give up. And other times there would be clues that lead more than one step ahead in the investigation. So instead of 3 clues leading to A where 3 new clues lead to B etc, you'd have something more akin to a web.
However, even if we switch up our three clue investigation in this way - making sure that there are not just clues leading from A to B but also clues from B to A and from A to B via X and Y - we run into the problem of direction. Once you've reached C, it makes little sense to return to A because C is closer to the final conclusion than A. This is the same as in a dungeon, where you progress from the point of entry towards the central treasure through deeper and deeper levels.
If you want an even greater level of freedom in your investigation, your clues must be meaningful even in the presence of other clues. This is the rationale behind the guess-who structure and the triangulation (or venn-structure, as Kyana pointed out), described earlier. Here, all clues carry equal weight so as long as you're still uncertain about the solution, you gain from seeking and finding new clues.
For this type of investigation, I'd like to propose another rule for clues: the clue probability rule.
For each conclusion that you want the PCs to make, include a clue that they have a probability of finding whenever they make an effort to find it.
Say that you have a murder weapon: a knife with a easily recognizable look that would lead you to the smith who made it whom in turn could provide a list of clients. The knife must be somewhere. So we decide that it is in the pond, close to the scene of murder. Now if the PCs would look in the pond, they would definitely find it. So the clue probability is 100%. But perhaps they don't, because how would they guess that it is there? Instead, they might investigate the wounds. They can determine it's a knife without problem, but could they also conclude that this type of knife is made by Brambly the smith? I dunno. 1 in 6. Otherwise they just learn that the knife must have curious proportions. So maybe they ask a smith, or an assassin for help. 1 in 3. Or ask witnesses. 50% chance. The scrap-finder kids or pawn shops? 10% per day has passed since the murder. And so on.
The point here is that instead of designing several clues leading to the same conclusion (or in addition to), you design a clue that there's always a chance of finding whenever the characters make an effort to find it.
So now we have a hierarchy of blueprints for investigation adventures
The linear structure. A breadcrumb trail where A leads to B leads to C. Fail-safe if clues are not hidden behind roll to continue. Very little agency, built in story arc.The three clue structure. A breadcrumb trail where multiple clues lead from A to B and multiple clues from B to C. Almost fail safe, given the plurality of clues to each conclusion. Some agency, allows for story arc.
The dungeon structure. A web of breadcrumb trails leading between A, B and C through multiple clues. Failure is unlikely. Good agency, story is largely emergent.
The open structure. A limited set of clues of equal (or similar) importance, which can be found through many different approaches. Failure is possible. High agency, no story arc.
onsdag 20 februari 2019
Sourn Monastery Murder Mystery
A solitary monastery of gray stone, known for its fine library. Once supported by a thriving village it now stands alone, for the nearby houses are abandoned and left to the wilderness to reclaim. A grisly murder has occured only days before the PCs arrive. The monks speak of monsters or wildpeople, for who else could it be? Yet, the thick oak door was locked and barred for monsters, and wildmen should be loathe to approach the church even at night. In desperation, their abbot turn to the PCs for aid to find the culprit and permanently rid the region of this malice.
A guess-who scenario.
** VICTIM **
PHILIMUS, the Young - Librarian. Found dead two nights ago by JON in the scriptorium, shortly before vigils. Currently, the body is in the hospice.
If the corpse is examined, its intestines are missing. Further, Philimus holds a lock of black hair from the assailant in his clenched fist.
The library key is missing.
** LOCATIONS **
SCRIPTORIUM - Philimus' body was found in the scriptorium, blocking the only door out. It took JON great effort to push the door open. The door to the library is locked, the key is missing.
The glassless windows in the scriptorium are too narrow for a full-grown man to climb through.
In the garden by these windows, there are footprints among the sage and thyme.
LIBRARY - locked, no other way in or out except through the scriptorium. Contains a wealth of books, among them Methodius compiled list
** Persons at the Monastery **
ORFWAL - Abbot. Massive frame, gray hair, voice and manners that speak of a temper that is not always peaceful. Taking his religious tasks seriously, he has not been outside the monastery for several years but he has a secret ambition of leaving. Was alone in his room at the time of murder.
BERTHAL - Butterer. Tall, stern, with black hair. His chores occupies most of his day, and with the exceptions for occasional trips to the neighbouring village to collect produce he has spent all his time at the monastery since he arrived sixteen years ago. Though none of the other monks know, he is the father of MERGITH, currently staying in the guest dormitory; he was there with extra provisions at the time of murder.
HERVORIUS - Garden master & Pharmacist. Rotund, jovial and sympathetic. Far from a zealot, he dabbles in Alchemy for his own amusement. At the time of the murder, he and GIDDEN were in the hospice together to experiment with a philtre. Can tell of brother LITHFARN who died 3 months ago seemingly from a beast attack, with wounds resembling those of PHILIMUS.
GIDDENS - Choir leader. Excellent voice, contrasting with his a small and almost brittle build. Black hair, green eyes. Recently returned to the monastery from a pilgrimage to the monaster of St Aventine. Was with HERVORIUS in the hospice at the time of the murder.
VINNICK - First copyist. Blond, slender and beautiful. His handwriting is exquisite, as are his illuminations, but he is lazy and self-absorbed. Knows that MERGITH is a blood relative of one of the senior monks. Claims to have been sleeping at the time of the murder; was in fact by the guest dormitory to blackmail MERGITH into intercourse but hid as he heard that she was not alone.
MALDER - Novice, arrived just over three months ago from Whytesun monastery for a period of training. Young, small build, raven hair. Claims to have been sleeping by the time of the murder. Has library key (but will get rid of it as soon as he can, perhaps by framing someone else) in his robes, and a book of demon lore hidden in his mattress. He took it in hope of learning more about the demon that possesses him, if confronted he will lie and try to flee when he can.
Is possessed by a demon of Hunger; has to feed on human intestines each month to retain its human shape:
HUNGERER: 3HD, fights/acts as 6HD, piercing bone-fingers 1d8+piercing: 1/2 armour, TR 4 regenerates 1HD per round, demonic: +1 action, MV 8.
JON - Carpenter/Layman. Broad-shouldered, black hair. Came to the monastery with his son Jon-Jon after the death of LITHFARN to reinforce the gate and do maintenance work to fortify the ageing monastery, has been here since. Lives in the West dormitory/Workshop. Found the body of PHILIMUS and raised the alarm; had to apply all his strength to push the door open since the body was immediately behind it.
JON-JON - Errand-boy. Brown-haired and brown-eyed child, showing a knack for wood-working. Was sleeping at the time of the murder. Friends with MERGITH, knows that she is afraid of someone in the monastery.
MERGITH - Seamstress. Young, yet hair turning white. Was taken in by the monks after her her mother and younger sister was killed a month ago, and has lived in the guest dormitory since. Her memories of the attack are vague, and she is beset by nightmares. She can tell that the attacker was alone and resembled a man, but with long fingers that pierced flesh like a spear. She can also tell that she believes the same creature attacked a group of hunters about two months ago; all of them were found dead and with their intestines removed. Is afraid of VINNICK, who knows one of the monks is her father and use this knowledge to try blackmail her into sexual favours. For this reason, she is planning to escape the monastery. Was in the guest dormitory with BERTHAL at the time of the murder.
** CLUE STRUCTURE **
tisdag 11 december 2018
Foot of the Bleeder - Handouts for a Guess-Who adventure
Here's a variant of the Guess-Who adventure, set in a medieval-ish period. The PCs are tasked with (or rather, may choose to engage with the task of) retrieving the seven relics of Bishop Severend.
Bishop Severend led the second conquest of the pagan-infested peninsula known as the Gauntland (previously Ettinmark, but I've come to hate how that looks in writing). His endeavors all but succeeded, but he was betrayed and defeated, and subsequently stabbed, drawn and quartered to death by Ygdrain, the chieftain of the wildmen. This defeat became the end of the second conquest, and the armies withdrew or were hounded down. In this turmoil, a group of knights still loyal to Severend managed to retrieve the severed parts of their fallen leader. Vowing to keep the remains out of the pagans' grasp, they split up and journeyed each in their own direction until divine inspiration or circumstance told them that they had found a place where the relics would be safe.
In this scenario, the player-characters learn that the one of the relics - the foot - is kept in an Apostate Shrine. The mystery is in which shrine the foot is kept, and since the events took place long time ago the investigation consists of finding information in letters and dusty tomes in old libraries. So in this sense it follows the blueprint of a Call of Cthulhu investigation, only set in a fantasy-medieval time. So the clues are in libraries, the libraries are spread out, and the adventure oscillates between traveling from one library to the other - encountering wandering monsters and robber knights and what have you - and piecing together the resultant clues. However, I also wanted there to be a fail-safe, in case the players don't feel like following this structure. Hence the Apostate Shrines, which represent distinct locations. I chose 20 as a high but not too-high number of shrines. This means that the players can brute-force the investigation by just traveling to all shrines and searching them. But it also means that each clue will be important on its own, because even if it just narrows down their search to half, it is still considerably fewer locations to travel to. So in this investigation, partial success is still very much a success.
I wrote the letters following Skerples' guidelines for medieval correspondence.
This handout is central, as it outlines the possible locations where the relic might be. It might be included with the handout 1a, or it might come separate. Since it is very long, I'd probably use a trick from playing Horror on the Orient Express: cut it in parts and say that the page was damaged. Then, the players will naturally piece it together, and while doing so they will also read it. You could also give them half the list (cut vertically) and say "it's damaged, but you might find a complete copy at Souern (where the monk found it)". This would also create more engagement with the handout.
Bishop Severend led the second conquest of the pagan-infested peninsula known as the Gauntland (previously Ettinmark, but I've come to hate how that looks in writing). His endeavors all but succeeded, but he was betrayed and defeated, and subsequently stabbed, drawn and quartered to death by Ygdrain, the chieftain of the wildmen. This defeat became the end of the second conquest, and the armies withdrew or were hounded down. In this turmoil, a group of knights still loyal to Severend managed to retrieve the severed parts of their fallen leader. Vowing to keep the remains out of the pagans' grasp, they split up and journeyed each in their own direction until divine inspiration or circumstance told them that they had found a place where the relics would be safe.
In this scenario, the player-characters learn that the one of the relics - the foot - is kept in an Apostate Shrine. The mystery is in which shrine the foot is kept, and since the events took place long time ago the investigation consists of finding information in letters and dusty tomes in old libraries. So in this sense it follows the blueprint of a Call of Cthulhu investigation, only set in a fantasy-medieval time. So the clues are in libraries, the libraries are spread out, and the adventure oscillates between traveling from one library to the other - encountering wandering monsters and robber knights and what have you - and piecing together the resultant clues. However, I also wanted there to be a fail-safe, in case the players don't feel like following this structure. Hence the Apostate Shrines, which represent distinct locations. I chose 20 as a high but not too-high number of shrines. This means that the players can brute-force the investigation by just traveling to all shrines and searching them. But it also means that each clue will be important on its own, because even if it just narrows down their search to half, it is still considerably fewer locations to travel to. So in this investigation, partial success is still very much a success.
I wrote the letters following Skerples' guidelines for medieval correspondence.
This handout starts the investigation, and since it is a letter it should be given to the player-characters by some central NPC (or found at their corpse).
Handout 1a: A Letter from Terbaud, the Monk
To Bishop Imbrius from Terbaud, greetingsYou will be pleased to learn that my Inquiry into the whereabouts of the Holy Relics have already born fruit. Yesterday I visited with the monks of Souern, who hold a great library. As you are well aware, accounts are unanimous in that the Knight Orcalx took off with the Foot following the dismemberment of Holy Severend, and hid it in a church. From my studies, I have come to believe that this was not a true Church, but instead one of the Apostate Shrines found in this land. Included in this letter, you will find a page copied from Methodius’ “Compiled list.” Orcalx was not a scholarly man, and the heterodoxy of these cults were not as widely known during his life as it is today. Yet, I now wonder about the proper course of action. Therefore, send me word of you wishes.Farewell.
Handout 1b. Excerpt from “A Compiled List, detailing the Apostate Shrines of the Gauntland.”
At Ashwold, south of Tinslay, lies a shrine constructed by exiled Consolers. It is believed to be the oldest apostate shrine in the land. The shrine is dedicated to the Father, who this sect believes to be nothing like the true heavenly Lord.
The second oldest shrine is in Glander. It was built by a local lord using material of a cyclopean temple previously in that location and is dedicated to the Spirit.
A third shrine lies in Orvault, on a small island. The shrine was commissioned by a local lord to be built on top of a pagan cairn. The shrine is dedicated to the Father, and it is one of the oldest.
At Egwyn Fach lies a fourth shrine, erected by the people of that place with aid of the Devil shortly after the first conquest. The shrine is dedicated to the Mother.
The shrine of Alverdis was erected by members of the triclavists and is one of the oldest. The shrine is dedicated to the Father.
Nine miles east of King's road, at Loudreác, lies a shrine dedicated to the Mother. It was built by Consolers during the reign of queen Aelwydd.
At Langonne lies a shrine adorned by the occidental crosses of the Consolers. It is built on the place of old pagan worship, and was completed just before the beginning of the second conquest. The shrine is dedicated to the Spirit.
The Pyworth shrine, dedicated to the Mother, is similar in design to that in Thurdon but smaller and built on a place of pagan worship. Both shrines were constructed under the reign of queen Aelwydd.
The shrine in Soudan was built over the course of twenty years by pilgrims flocking around the hermit Canabaas, sometime between the first and second conquest under the reign of queen Aelwydd. The shrine is dedicated to the spirit, which the worshippers hold higher than the Father and the Son
At Derrill, by the Wallingwall channel, lies a small shrine. Scholars claim it was built by Consolers on a location previously used by the druids and it was completed in the early years of the second conquest. The shrine is dedicated to the Father.
The largest of the shrines is in Thurdon. Its construction indicates that the buliders were of bogomil persuasion, possibly Consolers, and its tower is seen for many miles. The shrine is dedicated to the Spirit.
In Witherral, off the path to Lewill on a site used for ritual fornication among the wildmen, lies a shrine dedicated to the Mother. Its origins are unknown but scholars date its construction as contemporary with that in Loudreác, even if other connections are debated.
The Camrose shrine was constructed by Consolers living there in secret, following the end of the second conquest. The shrine is dedicated to the Father.The Spittal shrine, built by Consolers, was completed just a few years after the defeat of Severend that ended the second conquest. The shrine is dedicated to the Mother, and only women may enter into it.
The shrine at Derwen was built by Consolers under Marcher Lord Brewen. It is dedicated to the Mother.
At Row, deep in the Fellwood, lies a shrine built by triclavists. It was constructed during the reign of Macher Lords that followed after the second conquest, possibly Lord Gilmer. Having driven off the earlier inhabitants, builders ransacked their holy places and built a shrine dedicated to the Spirit in their place.
The shrine in Treillère was erected by a local community, reached by the gospel through the preachings of Guyon who was invited by Marcher Lord Gilmer. The shrine is dedicated to the Father, and is said to incorporate standing stones from an earlier construction in its foundation.
At Kerngrist, perched on the cliffs of Skarn, lies one of the most recent shrines. It was constructed by Consolers and is dedicated to the Spirit, but is otherwise unremarkable.
Despite being one of the newest, little is known about the shrine at Croix-an-Terray. No traces of the sect that built it have survived, but it sits on an old site of worship. The shrine is dedicated to the Father.
The last shrine built is at Quilliaut. It was built by triclavists and is dedicated to the Mother. The place is said to be haunted by the many men drowned in the nearby pond as part of pagan worship.
These are essentially the same handout. The letter can, realistically, only be in one place, whereas the travel log can exist in many copies. So version A is "if you go look in a specific place", and version B is "if you look in a plausible place". You can use just B if you want.Handout 2a: Terbaud’s 2nd letter
To Bishop Imbrius from Terbaud, greetingsAt your request, I have visited the shrines in Langonne, Egwyn Fach, Derrill, Thurdon. Witherral, Row, Derwen and Croix-an-Terray. I have also visited Camrose, of which nothing but rubble remains, and Ashwold where spiders in the million are born from the dirt. My travail has been substantial, and only the blessing of our heavenly Lord has kept me safe from the aggressions of the heathens that are everywhere reclaiming the land. Yesterday, we spotted one of the colossi of druidic worship. The guide I recruited was crushed to death before we could flee. I fear that I cannot press any further unless accompanied by a host of soldiers. Therefore, send me word of you wishes.Farewell.Handout 2b: Travel log of Terbaud the Monk
At the request of Bishop Imbrius, I have visited the shrines in Langonne, Egwyn Fach, Derrill, Thurdon. Witheral, Row, Derwen and Croix-an-Terray. I have also visited Camrose, of which nothing but rubble remains, and Ashwold where spiders in the million are born from the dirt. The travail has been substantial, and only the blessing of our heavenly Lord has kept me safe from the aggressions of the heathens that are everywhere reclaiming the land. Returning from Derwen, we spotted one of the colossi the Druids worship and many men were lost. But once again the Lord watched over me, and I was safe.
To increase the cost of the brute force solution, you'd probably want the shrines to be very far apart and much more distant than the nearest library. Also, consider having some powerful guardians - after all, they are abandoned sites of (heretical) worship.Handout 3: Travel log of Gillifrid the Nun
Their practices of the people in this land are strange, for they have not been reached by the true gospel and instead listed to the proselytisation of prophets drawing on hearsay or mixing fragments of the good book common superstition. But many of them are good people that would no doubt adopt the True Faith if they had the chance, and in Langonne, Egwyn Fach, Soudan, Pyworth, and Alverdis, but also in Camrose, Spittal and Treillère, I came upon the curious shrines they have erected. Here, I saw the great wealth stored in these shrines and witnessed many wonders, including the Foot of the Bleeder.Handout 4: Excerpt from “The Chronicle of Sir Orcalx”
Of the glorious deeds of Sir Orcalx, the most remarkable is that he retrieved the Foot of Saint Severend, also known as the Bleeder, away from those who sought its destruction. Fearing that the Druids would seek him to rob him of this Prize, he rode for days on end until he came upon a small shrine. Not knowing what to do, he knelt there and asked the Mother for guidance. And the she answered his prayer and revealed an empty monstrance in her shrine. Relieved, he placed the relic there and turned back to face the enemies of his Lord.Handout 5: Excerpt from “On the Recreant Knights”
Despite Sir Orcalx’s loyal service during the second crusade, his family was divested their peerage at the council of Meraux after his death. Among the many accusations leveraged against them was that their faith was wavering. As proof of this, it was argued that Orcalx had brought the Foot he was entrusted to the Consolers. This sect had just been outlawed, and the act violated the Papal Decree.Handout 6: Excerpt from “Knights of the Gauntland”
Roland of Offrey, who met him, writes that Sir Orcalx spent many months after the end of the second conquest in a remote village, regaining his strength. The village had been a place of druidic worship, but the inhabitants had torn down their temple and built a shrine where it used to stand, and after this the druids never returned. The people of this village were so hospitable and pious, that Orcalx decided to leave the Foot of the Bleeder, which he was carrying with him, at this shrine as a token of the Authority’s power.
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