Theo Paxstone and the Dragon of Adyron

Alternate cover for ol' Theo Paxstone

Be sure to check out my other fantasy work, Theo Paxtone and the Dragon of Adyron! It's a middle grade prose novel available from Amazon here.

The book blurb:

Theo Paxstone dreams of becoming a Steam Knight, and piloting a marvellous mechanical fighting machine in defence of the Kingdom of Adyron. He wants to be just like his idol, Sir Drake, who is showered with praise and admiration from sea to sea.

But Theo is just a boy mechanic, a virtual slave, in an orphan workshop run by a callous and exploitive owner.

Only Theo's dreams keep him going.

Everything changes when an enormous dragon sweeps out of the night and lays waste to the King's tournament. It wreaks destruction and then makes off with a young princess in it's clutches.

Outraged, Theo teams up with an elderly steam knight and his squire, and together the trio sets out to rescue the princess from the greatest and most dread beast to have ever lived.

Before long, Theo's view of the world is cast upside-down, as he discovers that heroes and villains are not always what, or who, they seem...

Traveller's Guide to the City of Forksbury

Nestled along the banks of the mighty Trent River, Forksbury is a bustling trading hub with deep roots in both history and commerce. Although secondary to the grand trading city of Juna, three days' march to the south, Forksbury thrives as a key stop for goods from the Midsea, drawing merchants, adventurers, and pilgrims alike. 

City Layout and Neighborhoods

Forksbury’s neighborhoods are distinct, each with its own charm and character, ranging from wealthy districts to areas of industry and trade.

• Aldgraves is the city's heart, home to the Caelan Basilica, with its grand catacombs and beautiful orchards. The Cindermarket and the Town Square, with its gleaming fountain, serve as bustling centers for trade and daily life. Here, you’ll find the City Hall, the Carpenter’s Guild, and the headquarters of the Midguild, which oversees trade across the Midsea.
• Ironmongers, often called Old Anvil by locals, is the district where blacksmiths and metalworkers ply their trade. This northern area of the city is also home to the Chandler Guild and Randolph's Emporium, a reputable shop for potions and tonics.
• Mayfair, stretching along the northwest city wall and riverbank, boasts views of the Trent River, with access to Northport, where river traffic from the north docks. This is a quieter district, favored by wealthier merchants and officials.
• Kingsburg, south of the Emberkeep, houses some of the city’s wealthiest families. The Emberheart family has ruled Forksbury for 200 years, with Baron Rogard residing in the Emberkeep alongside the Trent River. The grounds include orchards, gardens, and ponds, making it a beautiful yet secure stronghold.
• Tannery Row, running along the south wall of the city, is a hub of labor and industry. Parallel to Red Street, this district is known for its leather trade, a constant bustle of workers and tanners. Nearby, Almshood and St. Owain’s Church mark one of the poorer areas of Forksbury, where the Five Fingers gang is rumored to hold sway over the local criminal underworld.
• Panyers, near the Rivergate, leads travelers across the Milusbryg Bridge to Fort Caerberdin. It is a lively district, full of traders, inns, and riverfolk. If you're looking for a warm meal and good company, The Blue Fork Inn and Blackswan’s Tavern are favored stops for both locals and travelers.
• Vulcan’s Kitchen, in Ironmongers, is famed for its blacksmiths, while Poulters, south of the Arena of Mercia, offers a taste of Forksbury’s less glamorous, working-class life.

Landmarks and Notable Buildings

• Caelan Basilica: The religious and architectural marvel of Forksbury, the Basilica dominates the skyline. Its sprawling catacombs attract pilgrims and scholars alike, and its peaceful orchard offers a rare moment of quiet in the bustling city. The Bishop Ewina leads services here, presiding over the city’s religious affairs.
• The Arena of Mercia: This grand arena is a symbol of Forksbury’s Mercian heritage. Here, festivals, games, and grand tournaments take place, bringing in crowds from nearby towns and villages.
• Emberkeep: The seat of Baron Rogard and his family, the Emberhearts, this imposing fortress by the Trent River is both the city’s defense and a reminder of its noble lineage. The Baron’s influence over Pelshire and the surrounding lands makes this a seat of power worth respecting.
• The Curiosity Cabinet: One of Forksbury's more intriguing shops, Guthri's Curiosity Cabinet is renowned for rare and magical items. Located near the Masons Guild, it draws adventurers looking for that perfect enchanted weapon or trinket.

Guilds and Commerce

Forksbury’s wealth is driven by trade, both local and international. The Midguild regulates much of the city’s dealings with the Midsea, ensuring a steady flow of goods through Southport and Northport.

• The Mariners Guild oversees the ships and cargo that come through Port Mercermarch, located just outside the Portgate. This district is a maze of warehouses, shipyards, and taverns, a vital hub for those seeking passage or to trade goods from across the sea.
• The Mercer Guild controls much of the textile and cloth trade, ensuring the city's merchants remain competitive with neighboring cities like Juna. Their guildhall lies near the town square, close to the Masons Guild.

Points of Interest for Travelers

• Taverns and Inns: Whether you seek a lively evening of music and ale at Blackswan's Tavern or a comfortable stay at the Ramshead Inn, Forksbury offers a range of accommodations. For travelers wishing to explore the city’s seedy underbelly, the Red Goose Tavern in Almshood offers a less savory but interesting perspective on life in the city.
• Markets: The Cindermarket by the Town Square is the city’s primary open-air market, offering everything from fresh produce to finely crafted goods. Those venturing to the outskirts of the city may find unique treasures in The Brambles and Pellwick Orchards, just outside Northgate.

History and Legends

Forksbury’s history is entwined with the myth and legacy of the ancient Eotan, giant titans who once ruled much of the world. Legend holds that the Eotan brought necromancy into the world in their final years, leading to the eventual fall of their empire. Their influence is still felt in the limestone caverns beneath Forksbury, where ancient ruins, crypts, and dungeons attract explorers and adventurers eager to uncover the city’s forgotten past.

The city itself was settled over 1,000 years ago by the Mercians and has since grown into a key trading hub, though its turbulent history of conflict with the Avalar and rival baronies is never far from memory. Baron Rogard, who presides over Forksbury and its lands, remains ever watchful of his feuding neighbor to the west, Baron Sigulf of Walcastra.

Everything you ever wanted to know about goblins, from the Dragon Garage Appendices

Heroic Journey's Bestiary entry for Goblins, embedded with Dragon Garage. Because every fantasy book should have appendices:

Ur-goblins are bred for war by unscrupulous sorcerers, warlocks & witches, and can often be found in service to them; tree goblins and faerie gobelin (also known as pukwudgies) infest dark forests and often live in harmony with giant spiders. They are shunned by other faeries, and a war of pranks between the factions has been going on since Puk spiked the solstice brew at the Third Age Conjunction.

Goblins

Also known as orcus or cowcaddens, goblins are an unopopular species of nocturnal scavengers, known for their pasty white skin, clawed hands and feet, sharp yellow teeth, pointed ears and poor hygiene. Their eyesight is weak in daylight, but tapetum lucidum give them excellent night vision, complimented by keen hearing.

There are many subspecies, ranging from enormous deep cave monstrosities to winged imps (also known as pukwudgies), which engage in endless intercenine warfare. Long ago, scheming sorcerers interbred the worst and most brutish of humankind with goblins to produce the dread ur-goblins (war goblins), the only breed that can withstand sunlight without flinching.

Commonly found in northern and temperate climes, they dwell in marginal lands, such as hills, haunted forests, mildewy caves, dank ruins and windy mountains.

Goblins are known to partner with other foul species, such as dire wolves, serpents, dragons, bats and gaint spiders. They battle their mutual sworn enemies: humans, dwarves and (especially) elves. Dire wolf packs and spider clutches provide muscle and speed in exchange for goblin ingenuity, tool making and magics.

The deep blood hatred between goblins and elves goes back eons, and the origins of this mutual hatred has been lost to time.

Goblins have been known to form mercenary companies with humans, trolls, man-eating ogres and rogue faeries, but never elves or dwarves, whose company they cannot abide. Goblin mercenaries have been known to attack during daylight hours in order to catch villagers off guard.

Underground, goblins live on magical ghost fungus and lichens that exist in great plenty. Some are highly nutritious (if tough and tasteless) or poisonous; goblin shamans know which is which, and are experts at combining them into formidable potions. Cabbage, salt and garlic are often used in both food and potions.

Their society is pitiless, cruel and tribal: the weak are either purged (to avoid waste of resources), or used as ‘cannon fodder’ in battle. Cannibalism often occurs when mushroom crops fail.

Goblin armour is often brittle, as their smiths cannot match the level of skill their elven or dwarven counter- parts. Poison and dark enchantments can help compensate. They steal elven armour whenever possible.

Great Cave Goblins and Huppudums are sightless albino subspecies that live deep beneath the surface of the earth, and are allergic to sunlight. They bathe frequently and cover themselves with mud and shroompaste to cover their scent. Their tongue clicking can often be heard reverberating throughout vast underground caverns.

Dark lords (such as vampire, necromancers, evil princes, sorcerers, witches and evil spirits) often employ goblin armies, luring them with promises of vengeance against their ancestral enemies, or of gold and fertile land. As vampires are unable to digest goblin blood, and goblins cannot be infected with the vampire virus, the two species are frequent allies.

Goblins do not tan; sunlight burns their skin; if they must move about during daylight hours, it will be when it is cloudy or after imbibing fortifying mushroom brews.

Their language, Gobblese, is harsh and guttural; some say it is derived from elvish, which envious goblins stole and then bastardized.

Eternal opportunists, goblins will exploit any weakness they are presented with. They often loot battlefields for weapons, armour and food, unless ghouls get there first.

Goblins typically serve the narrative function of antagonist cannon fodder: pitiless, evil beings that can be smote in vast numbers without incurring guilt or moral judgement.

Faerie goblins may hold out wishes, but these will always come with a completely annihilating cost.

As an externalization and embodiment of human flaws, they relish in cruelty, sadism, greed, cowardice and selfishness.

They are the ying to the player yang. 

Players cannot be goblins.

Node vs. megadungeon RPG adventure design

The modern five room dungeon, arch-enemy of the megadungeon

I jumped back into D&D 5e as a DM straight from AD&D First Edition a year ago now. All my players are familiar with 5e, so our campaign is an old school retro-thrill for them.

I'm The Dinosaur DM, hauling into the light old school AD&D elements that they're unfamiliar with, in some cases for good reason. 

They're doing training between levels, for example, which was a roadblock mechanic from The Before Time, but one I always liked. It makes levelling up feel more earned, somehow. But it does slow things down, and 5e is about speeding everything up (including upleveling).

I really like Fifth Edition overall, it's much more streamlined and far more survivable. Some aspects of First Edition just weren't fun. A wizard who gets 1 spell to start spends a lot of time just trying to avoid dying. 

These days, players heavily invest in their character creation. It's less about a bunch of random no-name adventurers heading down into a dungeon to possibly become rich and powerful (or to be brutally slaughtered), and more about a bunch of already exceptional heroes setting out on their heroic journey. The specialness is baked into the 5e character from the get go, while in AD&D, only a few survivors made it to that status. 

There's a very different kind of game design philosophy at the root of it. For the most part, I think 5e takes the right path. On the other hand, it kind of defangs the fantasy world. 

I'm not out to kill characters, mind. You want to cut players slack... just not too much slack. Take away the possibility of dying, and the thrill wanes. KIll players too often and the fun wanes. 

But with the switch from characters starting out almost hapless, and trying to become exceptional, to 5e where they start out far more exceptional, is that they (quite understandably) want to prioritize their own personal journeys. Heck, the game could be called 'Heroic Journeys' (the name I gave the faux game in Dragon Garage), as the world revolves around the players much more than it used to. 

That brings me to node vs. megadungeon adventure design. 

A megadungeon is big and impersonal. It doesn't care about the players, one way or the other, and there's a  lot in there that isn't related to the player's personal journey. That, however, doesn't fit with the character focused gameplay of 5e. 

Players don't want to have to mess around with meaningless exploration: they want to get right to what's about them. To their personal journey. Who needs all that poking around in the dark?

That's where node based adventure design comes in: you create only encounters and situations that push the primary story along, and use a few random events and encounters to add a little padding/uncertainty. A node based game is far, far more streamlined and focused.

If they have to rescue someone, you set up a few key encounters along the way, but you don't have them wandering around a megadungeon trying to find their target. Players get bored quickly these days hence the popularity of the five room dungeon. 

This leads me to a fundamental question: is there any place for a megadungeon in 5e? The megadungeon doesn't revolve around the players personal mission. It's a big shift going from a character-centred universe to an indifferent, deadly universe that you're just visiting (before inevitably popping off the mortal coil). It may feel slow, unfocused, meandering, and bloated compared to modern game play. 

Personally, I like open world exploration games, where I'm not rail-roaded into fulfilling my journey (at least not right away), and I can take my time, smell the roses, kill the gerblins, that sort of thing. But that admittedly affects story flow, and can descend into meaninglessness.

The most efficient, streamlined way to tell a story through RPG mechanics is with node based adventures. It keeps things at a quick pace, and doesn't let the drama lag. And while it's more fulfilling drama and story wise... the megadungeon still feels more immersive.

What do you want from your flight of imagination?

One advantage of node based adventure design: it's a heck of a lot less work than building out an entire megadungeon complex! 

I've got 2 levels of the megadungeon keyed beneath Castle Druidun, and a third underway. I'm considering changing to node based design after that, depending on how things go with the players, and how much energy I have.

There's a really great flow map of various classic D&D dungeons here by Melan.

Dragon in my Garage - by Carl Sagan

Carl Sagan

I always liked this little ditty, and I've always admired Sagan. Maybe you can tell. Excerpted from Demon Haunted World by Carl Sagan. It's a good read:

 The dragon in my garage

by Carl Sagan

“A fire-breathing dragon lives in my garage.”

Suppose (I’m following a group therapy approach by the psychologist Richard Franklin) I seriously make such an assertion to you. Surely you’d want to check it out, see for yourself. There have been innumerable stories of dragons over the centuries, but no real evidence. What an opportunity!

“Show me,” you say. I lead you to my garage. You look inside and see a ladder, empty paint cans, an old tricycle — but no dragon.

“Where’s the dragon?” you ask.
“Oh, she’s right here,” I reply, waving vaguely. “I neglected to mention that she’s an invisible dragon.”

You propose spreading flour on the floor of the garage to capture the dragon’s footprints. “Good idea,” I say, “but this dragon floats in the air.”

Then you’ll use an infrared sensor to detect the invisible fire.

“Good idea, but the invisible fire is also heatless.”

You’ll spray-paint the dragon and make her visible.

“Good idea, but she’s an incorporeal dragon and the paint won’t stick.” And so on. I counter every physical test you propose with a special explanation of why it won’t work.

Now, what’s the difference between an invisible, incorporeal, floating dragon who spits heatless fire and no dragon at all? If there’s no way to disprove my contention, no conceivable experiment that would count against it, what does it mean to say that my dragon exists? Your inability to invalidate my hypothesis is not at all the same thing as proving it true.

Claims that cannot be tested, assertions immune to disproof are veridically worthless, whatever value they may have in inspiring us or in exciting our sense of wonder. What I’m asking you to do comes down to believing, in the absence of evidence, on my say-so. The only thing you’ve really learned from my insistence that there’s a dragon in my garage is that something funny is going on inside my head. You’d wonder, if no physical tests apply, what convinced me.

The possibility that it was a dream or a hallucination would certainly enter your mind. But then, why am I taking it so seriously? Maybe I need help. At the least, maybe I’ve seriously underestimated human fallibility. Imagine that, despite none of the tests being successful, you wish to be scrupulously open-minded. So you don’t outright reject the notion that there’s a fire-breathing dragon in my garage. You merely put it on hold. Present evidence is strongly against it, but if a new body of data emerge you’re prepared to examine it and see if it convinces you. Surely it’s unfair of me to be offended at not being believed; or to criticize you for being stodgy and unimaginative — merely because you rendered the Scottish verdict of “not proved.”

Imagine that things had gone otherwise. The dragon is invisible, all right, but footprints are being made in the flour as you watch. Your infrared detector reads off-scale. The spray paint reveals a jagged crest bobbing in the air before you. No matter how skeptical you might have been about the existence of dragons — to say nothing about invisible ones — you must now acknowledge that there’s something here, and that in a preliminary way it’s consistent with an invisible, fire-breathing dragon.

Now another scenario: Suppose it’s not just me. Suppose that several people of your acquaintance, including people who you’re pretty sure don’t know each other, all tell you that they have dragons in their garages — but in every case the evidence is maddeningly elusive. All of us admit we’re disturbed at being gripped by so odd a conviction so ill-supported by the physical evidence. None of us is a lunatic. We speculate about what it would mean if invisible dragons were really hiding out in garages all over the world, with us humans just catching on. I’d rather it not be true, I tell you. But maybe all those ancient European and Chinese myths about dragons weren’t myths at all.

Gratifyingly, some dragon-size footprints in the flour are now reported. But they’re never made when a skeptic is looking. An alternative explanation presents itself. On close examination it seems clear that the footprints could have been faked. Another dragon enthusiast shows up with a burnt finger and attributes it to a rare physical manifestation of the dragon’s fiery breath. But again, other possibilities exist. We understand that there are other ways to burn fingers besides the breath of invisible dragons. Such “evidence” — no matter how important the dragon advocates consider it — is far from compelling.

Once again, the only sensible approach is tentatively to reject the dragon hypothesis, to be open to future physical data, and to wonder what the cause might be that so many apparently sane and sober people share the same strange delusion.

From the chapter “The Dragon In My Garage” in Sagan's book The Demon-Haunted World

Overly litigious companies shoot themselves in the foot

Why, oh why?

Interesting suggestions on alternatives to play. I've got the Cthulhu core books, but never gotten around to learning the system.

From The Alexandrian. I got his book, which I found helpful: So You Want To Be A Game Master.

Campaign Map of Arthea

The bonkers big map of Arthea, showing Bronn, Cassea, and Gudana

The map of Arthea, an exercise in excessive detail. Originally intended to build out the world of Dragon Garage, but a sequel isn't looking likely, so now it's just for the game world in Dungeons & Dragons. 

The characters are on the continent of Bronn, which extends from the arctic circle down to the Midsea. Druidun Dungeon is basically in what would be Southern France. 

The map is based on early maps of the earth, mostly ancient Greek maps, and then warped from there. Africa has been smushed up with the Amazon jungles of South America, with a great mountain range in between. 

Another great mountain range runs through Bronn, known as the Wornspine. The great plains beyond are dominated by the ruthless Centaur Khanates. The far east is dominated by the Celestial Empire of Shantun.

Since the whole campaign is based in a stylized medieval Europe, everywhere further afield has more monsters and otherworldly kingdoms.

The ports on the southern shores of Bronn have plenty of traders and travellers, so word of fabulous far off treasures and tombs is relatively easy to find. Getting the actual treasures is quite another matter...