Let's Get Dangerous, Issue One: Into the Breach, Part 2


Content Warning

Language, Captivity, Bats, Burned Mausoleum, Heights and Falling, Explosive Acid, Physical Hardship, Opinions on Game Design



With Ingolfr’s advice swirling in my head and a handful of his maps in my pack, I give a short wave to him from the breach and begin my descent.  He waves back slowly, perhaps wondering if he’ll see me again.  I sure hope so.  That door isn’t going to fix itself and I owe the old man for his hospitality last night.  The staircase into the breach is wide, thankfully, but old and crumbling at its edges.  One hand trails along the rough hewn wall to my right to help steady my balance as I peer over the left side of the steps.  The staircase is more or less a straight shot downward, toward but not entirely to the bottom of the seemingly endless chasm.  It terminates on one side of what looks like a naturally formed bridge that crosses to the other side of the ravine.  Looking forward into the reddish gloom, I can see several such bridges at various elevations crisscrossing the chasm, their pathways disappearing into unmarked cavernous openings in the rock walls.  It strikes me as odd.  The bridges look natural, made of the same stone as the ravine’s walls, but they can’t be if the rumors of the Breach’s formation are true.  A giant magic spear, or even the energy wave generated by its thrust, would have more cleanly split the earth in two.  I push the idea away for now, the mental equivalent of my famous shrug.  Probably won’t be the last or even on the list of most interesting oddities I’ll experience here.  But it does tell me the labyrinthine passages Ingolfr spoke of aren’t limited to only one side of the rift.

The way down is somehow longer than it looks.  I’m a fairly tough duck but even I’m a bit winded by the time I reach the bottom of the stairs.  It’s eerily quiet here, but for the sound of the wind whistling through the rocks.  Nothing grows here, not so much as a weed, and nothing moves as far as my sight can pierce the crimson shadows in either direction.  I’m unsure where the light is coming from.  It seems to suffuse the air but, aside from the consequences of my efforts getting down here, I can breathe easily.  Finally catching my breath, I shoulder my pack and cross the bridge.  Even from way down here, it’s a long drop over the side and the narrow bridge has no guardrails so I move carefully and stay near the centerline.  The proportions of this place are massive and continually mess with my perception of scale.  The cave opening ahead of the bridge looms larger than it looked by far on the opposite side of the ravine, finally topping five times my height with ease at its apex.  I move into it.

The corridor it opens into is a relatively persistent width but it twists and turns as it descends slowly into the earth.  Almost as if it were carved by some burrowing monster.  I’d have guessed it was man-made, carved by the steady hands of the dwarves who live just south of here, but the winding nature of the tunnel is impractical.  This journey, too, takes longer than I expected.  I can see a soft light just ahead but I’m in no great rush and my expeditions here call for a cautious approach.  It isn’t long, though, before I exit the tunnel and arrive at the bottom of a massive spherical room.  A single, pumpkin sized orb sits on a stone pedestal at the very bottom of the room, emanating a warm light that fills the room and chases away the reddish hue in the air.  The smoothness of the room’s curve is a fair marvel.  Stonework isn’t my forte but I can appreciate the sheer artistry that went into carving such a room.  

Here, then, is my first taste of the Breach proper.  The Vault of Many Paths, Ingolfr called it.  The walls are covered with embossed depictions of ancient draconian and demonic battles and they are striking in their clarity.  At various elevations around my feet, just above the level of my head as I stand at the bottom with the light, in a ring perhaps twenty feet above that, and in a final ring near the ceiling mirroring the pattern on the floor, are a series of perfectly circular holes cut through the sphere’s walls which each lead into their own twisting, branching tunnels.  Someone has painted the exit I came through with red pigment, a fact for which I am immediately grateful.  If I were to stand here and spin around enough times, I would surely lose my sense of direction.  Many Paths, indeed.  No points for originality but painfully accurate.  Each hole is ringed with specially carved, fist sized stones that bear marks in what I can only imagine are characters in a draconic or demonic language.  I’ll have to bear that in mind.  These stones may be the key to deciphering a proper layout.  I’m sure the demon slayer priest already thought of that but two sets of eyes are better than one.


Can I read the markings?

I’ll give the Languages skill a toss.  I think it’s very unlikely anyone but a scholar could decipher these runes, so I’ll roll with a Bane.  12 and 8 versus my 6 is a no go.



I may not be able to decipher their meaning but I can take note of their physical structure.  Paper is too precious of a resource to waste on someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing with it, so I didn’t take any from the chapel.  These notes will have to be mental for now.  Currently, my path is straightforward.  Literally.  The hastily copied map of the Vault shows the tunnel directly opposite to the way in as the path I should follow.

Ingolfr told me about a group of demon cultists down here that possess something he called the Worldbreaker Shard, the supposed tip of the abyssal spear that created the Breach in the first place all those years ago.  It’s not the kind of warped natural material I came here looking for but I can’t pass up trying to get a good look at such a weapon, even if it is only the smallest piece of one.  Studying it might give me some valuable insights on how to successfully forge whatever material it’s made of.  Particularly if I can find more of that material.  Only problem is Ingolfr says his magic eye can’t pierce the cloud of foul magics that surround them.  I had asked him if there was another path forward he could see.  He was quiet a moment before he turned his head almost imperceptibly, as if watching something moving far away.  I could see the smooth stone eye shifting slightly as it tracked the movement.  He told me about Gorum then.  An orc that was being held captive by a group of the cultists.  They were moving him slowly from place to place in the caverns below.  If I could get to him and free him, he might be able to help me navigate the cultist’s hideout.  He was…very vague about how he knew Gorum held this knowledge, however.

I have more than enough incentive to help free the man but I would have anyway.  The very thought of these demon-worshiping psychos stripping anyone of their freedom fairly makes my blood boil.  The old wolf warned me, too, of a trio of bandits moving around in the area, looting and robbing.


The Bandit Trio

I considered posting stat blocks for monsters when I run these kinds of games but I don’t think I will.  I can’t remember for certain (because it takes me a decade between posts) but I don’t think I have yet either.  It seems better for me to include the relevant mechanics when they come up in the narrative, in these callout boxes.  That way, you don’t have to refer back to possibly even a different post entirely if you’re following along with the mechanics absent the game’s materials in front of you.

In any case, these bandits are Goblin Scouts and they serve as this mission’s Threat.  Threat counter is at 1 of 6.  It advances when there’s a significant delay through inaction or failure (doubly so when rolling Demons…critfails) or when I divert off mission for resting or searching or whatever.  Gets to 6, it pops off, the Threat shows up and I have to deal with it then.  Seems like a cool way to create a kind of artificial pressure.  Though, in this initial instance, the wandering monster thing…I don’t know if that will provide the same kind of pressure as other clocks.  I hear combat is deadly and I can see, theoretically, that it is.  So maybe I’m wrong about that.  As a side note, if it is, definitely weird to be playing a dungeon game where you do your best to avoid combat.  Well, weird for me.  My tabletop group does their level best to avoid combat in every game, haha.  And I’m well aware that other old school designs include a high level of lethality to increase “player problem solving” but I’m not a fan of the extreme (though sometimes just lazy) lengths some go to to highlight this.  I know it’s not the prevailing opinion, but meatgrinders in my opinion are dopey games that serve as beer and pretzels filler.  Good for a few minutes laugh, gets old quick.  I’m not saying that’s bad.  Perfectly fun way to play.  But I mean, just be honest about it.  To a certain point, it can absolutely be about increasing problem solving and engaging player creativity.  Past that, it becomes completely about goofy hack and slash glee.  Ah, I’m off on a dumb tangent, back to the game.


Are there any leftover supplies stored or dropped here?

Yes/No, 5.  So yes, there are.  Let’s say a couple of packs.  In that case, I’ll take a second to rifle through them and see what I come up with.  I’m not Searching, but rather Scavenging, so I won’t be spending enough time here to advance the Threat die.
Scavenge, 5, 6.  A torch.  Perfect, my dumb ass forgot to buy more of them.



I find a couple of supply packs sitting neatly against the base of the light pedestal.  Almost didn’t notice them.  Rifling through them quickly, I find mostly redundant and expired stuff.  Fortunately, I do find another torch.  That’ll be useful, so I shove it in my own pack.  I look at the sorry burlap sack in something like despair.  “I really need a proper backpack,” I grumble to myself.  Wasting no more time, I light a torch with my flint and tinder and set off down the path marked out for me by Ingolfr…yeah, Ingolfr…I just can’t bring myself to call the old wolf by his new moniker.  Not particularly fond of my own nickname, if I’m honest.  I’m all for a person picking out their own name or having nicknames bestowed upon them by friends but names like Stone-Gaze are what goes down in history books for goodness sake.  It’s silly.

The tunnel on the other side of the opening is more open than the one I took to arrive at the vault and it takes me a second to recognize that’s because the entire top quarter of the tunnel opens into a greater cavern above.  Whatever ancient burrower plowed through this area tore open this cavern’s floor.  Ingolfr’s warning comes back to me as I make my way down the sloping passage.  He bade me to tread softly here, lest I wake the slumbering inhabitants above this passage.  Peering past the torchlight, I could just make out glistening, leathery hides hanging from the cavern's roof and stalactites.  Bats.  Big ones.  I think.  My light shouldn’t be a problem and as long as I don’t make more noise than the dull crackling of my torch proceeding through the cavern into the more complete tunnel on its far end, I should be just fine.  I take a couple of steps down the passage before I remember I’m wearing full plate, I’m armed to the teeth, and the slope is steeper than I realized.  I’ll be lucky not to wake the dead in this getup.  I’ll have to take it slow, then.


Roll for Stealth

I get a bane on this for the Plate armor.  And I’m rolling against a 5.  So good luck me.  I get…a 4 and a 4!  Incredible!  I was all geared up to fight vampire bats, lemme tell ya.  
Still, I think that because of the circumstances involved, Irondown has to move very slowly and very carefully to avoid clanging around.  That’ll push the Threat die to 2 of 6.
What’s more, if I took enough delay to cause the Threat to rise, that means I took about a Stretch of time.  Units of time here are Rounds (10 seconds, for combat), Stretches (15 minutes, for exploration and short rests), and Shifts (6 hours, for travel and sleeping).  Torches burn for a Shift but have to roll a d6 every Stretch (or when used as a weapon) to see if they go out.  Roll is…a 2.  So it gutters a couple of times but stays lit.



I may not have much in the way of mobility and grace but I have an abundance of power and muscle control.  It’s extremely slow going, though.  I have to stop a couple of times entirely, pausing to let disturbed beasties above settle back to rest.  The torch gutters a few times too, in the stale and partially enclosed environment but thankfully it stays alight.  In time, I reach the other end of the cavern and pass into a fully enclosed tunnel.  It stretches out for a couple of minutes walk before opening up suddenly into a wide, man-made space.


Location Details

I know this place is a burnt up mausoleum but let’s see if I can gen up any other interesting details.  Location Details, 2, Environment.  Environment Subtable, 20, Stagnant Pool.  Alright, so maybe that was the original means by which the fire was snuffed.  Could have been an accident, a natural occurrence, or something intentional.  Let’s ask some questions.

Was this the site of a battle?  Fortune Yes/No, 1, definitely not.

Was this an accident? Fortune Yes/No, 6, Extreme yes.  Something in the lore tells us the loss of this place was a tragedy.

Is this mausoleum Dwarven in nature?  Fortune Y/N, 2, No.  After the fall of the Eledain Empire, the orc tribes took over the valley.  I think I’d normally ask in chronological order whose tomb this is, going back through the humans and the demons back to the dragon-worshipers but I think I won’t here.  I like the idea that this is an Orcish resting place and that gives some small possible context for Gorum being down here.



The mausoleum.  The room is large and must have been a magnificent sight to behold before its tragic destruction.  Great stone slabs inlaid with intricate jade designs make up the floor, giving the room an incredible sense of weight.  There are massive pillars wider around than I am tall that stretch up to brace against a more natural looking cavern roof.  The pillars are a darker hue of green, cast in the light of my torch, and less translucent.  Nephrite then.  I’ve picked up some gemology in the course of plying my trade.  Though made of a slightly tougher material, if I remember right, the pillars nevertheless look decorative.  They might be put to use at some point in the future, however, if that roof caves in.  Right near the center of it, a large crack has formed.  From it leaks a slow drip of dirty water into a stagnant pool on the floor below.  Despite the damp, the place looks like it was devastated by fire.  The gorgeous stonework is cracked and blackened with soot.  Several sarcophagi lie in ruin and rubble, surrounded by piles of ash.  The air itself is still but warm, as if in the memory of the blaze that consumed these revered dead.

Five of the coffins remain intact, casting long shadows in the light of my torch thrown from the reflection of the waters around their bases.  The graven images of powerful Orc warriors adorn their lids, each exacting in detail.  One coffin hides a secret exit from the room, I’m told.  Ingolfr probably sent me this way because the secret door was a faster route.  Looking across the room at the ruined archway filled with rubble from a collapsed tunnel, it’s clear that no one would otherwise come this way on purpose if this wasn’t their destination.  I take out the map to consult the priest’s scribbled notes.  But between the terrible handwriting and the ink splotches, I can’t make heads or tails of which coffin the exit is hidden in.  I can just make out his notes reminding me of the hidden trap in this room and I remember, too, his warning against disturbing the “scorched dead.”   This calls for care.


Searching the Mausoleum

I don’t think Frishberg is callous enough to go rooting around in a tomb, so I won’t Scavenge here.  But we do need to make a Spot Hidden roll to find the trap and the false coffin.  The rules for Searching aren’t really specific enough here.  Skills are meant to be used one time only, unless circumstances change.  I could argue that searching for the trap is a different thing than searching for the exit but this seems finicky to me and against the spirit of the game.  Also, it would be unnecessarily punishing because it would take me a half hour and advance the Threat by two.  It’s also not super clear whether the Spot Hidden roll to “stay out of trouble” when finding unsprung traps is supposed to be a reflexive thing or whether it’s mechanically the same as the Spot Hidden used in Searching (thus requiring a Stretch and Threat advancement).  I’d guess that because Evade is used to reflexively respond to the Trap to avoid damage, that the Spot is meant to be used in slow searching mode to avoid the potential for harm in the first place.  That’s a lot of words to say: I’ma just lump it in one roll.

Spot Hidden, 4 vs 12, Success.  Let’s get some more information.

Am I able to discern the false coffin by clues hidden in the engravings?  Fortune Y/N, 3, No.  By some physical clue in the environment, then.

Is the exit itself trapped?  This seems unlikely, so I’ll tilt the Fortune roll.  2, 3, No either way.  There must be the allure of loot in the room to entice the unwary graverobber.  A chest?  Fortune, 5, Yes.

Threat advances to 3 of 6.  Torch roll, 6, still going strong.



I circle the surviving sarcophagi slowly, rubbing the underside of my bill in contemplation.  I’ve already caught sight of the ornate steel chest with gold filigree sitting behind them against the far wall but dismissed it out of hand.  I’m not here for graverobbing.  I’ll take what is necessary but stealing from this tomb is a step too far.  Besides, the chest looks odd around the feet so that’s my best guess as to where the trap is.  It’s only when I move around to the other side of the room do I see that one of the coffin lids is slightly askew.  On closer inspection, there’s a larger pile of ash next to the slight opening.  The skeletal remains of a hand sits half buried in the ash.  Looks like this is how we know not to disturb the scorched dead.  Someone clearly already did.  None of the other lids are ajar, though, so I step forward and peer over the side of the coffin.  I can see light filling a squarish crack in its base but otherwise, the coffin is empty.  I nod to myself, shove the lid over enough to fit my broad shoulders through, and scramble in.  I carefully trace the outline of the secret door until I find its handle.  It slides open to reveal a short five foot drop into another tunnel below.  This one looks more man-made than the others.  A soft fungus grows in cracks in the walls and glows with a soft, electric blue light.  It’s enough to see by but my torch is stronger.


Waypoint Details

Area Table, 20, Yawning Chasm.
4 Location Details, 2 Dangers and 2 Contents, Acid Pools and Fiery Surroundings, Dusty Tomes and Remote Encampment.

Can we get something in the way of connective tissue?  Inspiration, 9, Destroyed.



The tunnel is very short, only a hundred feet or so, before it spills out into a yawning chasm.  After crawling through such small spaces, the vast expanse before me is another shock to the system.  I’m standing on a ledge about the width of a person that leads about twenty feet to the right, where it broadens into a large, flat platform.  The rock wall beneath just juts out more there and I can see that someone carved a low alcove against its back wall at some point.  Remnants of an encampment lie scattered around the area.  From the far edge of the encampment above the escarpment, there’s half a rope bridge dangling over the dark abyss below.  One of the top ropes is still strung all the way across but the other looks to have been cut.  I move in for a closer look.  

While I’m pressed against the wall, side stepping along the ledge, I can smell sulfurous fumes coming up from below.  They’re faint but any prolonged exposure would be unbearable.  There’s also a faint sizzling sound coming from the wall beneath my ledge.  I can’t get eyes on what’s causing the sound from the ledge but when I make it to the platform, I can see one of the blue fungus melting and bubbling.  I watch it reacting with the air for a minute.  It seems to reach a critical point in its decomposition and pops loudly, disintegrating utterly and spattering the wall with green acidic plasma.  The rock beneath immediately melts.  Looking closer at the cliff faces in here, I can see they look a lot like melted wax.  I instinctively step back into the alcove once realization dawns.  The lip of the platform is similarly eroded, no doubt from falling acid.  And the cut rope was definitely not cut but probably burned away.

I look around for anything useful.  There’s some supplies here, the remnants of a very old campfire, and some dusty old books with cracked parchment pages.  Nothing that’s going to help me get across.  I will collect some of that blueshroom, for good measure.  I eye that one “good” rope and hope it’s strong enough to support my weight.  I shrug to myself.  Nothing for it but to try.  I’ve been in worse spots.  I think.


Scavenge the Alcove

Scavenge, 10, One Treasure Card and roll again.  8, One Treasure Card.

I’ve decided to just use the Additional Treasures.  All the normal options are technically nested in those cards somewhere.

I draw a Horn worth 1d6 Silver (selling that) and a Bottle.  I’ll need to make a Healing roll to determine its contents, I should think.  Bushcraft also seems appropes.  They’re the same for me, though, so it doesn’t matter.  17 vs. 12 is a fail.  So I’ll know what its contents are but Frishberg here won’t have the faintest.  

I know I just said I’d avoid doing this (kind of) but I think I’m going to make my own loot table for Bottles.  Like, christ on crutches, guys, it’s not super difficult to make moderately robust loot tables.  Don’t worry, you don’t have to refer back here, I’ll mention it again if relevant.  Honest.  So:

1) Poison, roll 1d3: 1) Lethal, 2) Paralyzing, 3) Sleeping / roll 1d3: 1) Weak Potency, 2) Moderate Potency, 3) Strong Potency.
2) Healing Potion, roll 1d3: 1) 2d6, 2) 3d6, 3) 4d6.
3) Herbal Concoction, as Gear.
4) Ink, worth 3 Gold (which then assumes a Quill is worth 7).
5) Perfume, as Gear.
6) Water or Alcohol, negligible amount, used as an ingredient.

Bottle roll, 2, 5.  Nice, a maximum healing potion.  Thing’s worth 200 gold, according to Additional Treasures, so I’ll probably sell that too.  If I can trust the buyer, I guess.


Cross the Chasm

Here comes the fun part.  There’s no way I get lucky again.  This calls for an Acrobatics roll, with Bane, against a 5.
Acrobatics 1, 18.  Geez, this close.  Fail.

I think that means the rope snaps and I end up swinging smack into the wall.  Frishberg is definitely strong enough to hold on, so I won’t roll anything extra for that, but he’s one helluva wrecking ball.  He’ll smack into the wall for 2d6 damage.
Damage, 6.  HP at 7.  Crunch, goodness.

So now we come upon something I actually don’t really care for.  The rulebook makes certain to call out that there should be no standstills.  It’s pretty vague as to how, which is..fine, I guess.  It’s probably for the best that rules systems aren’t overly verbose (like yours truly).  But the problem is that the system doesn’t really support that.  I’m here in a situation where I’m dangling by a rope because my skill roll was poor.  I wouldn’t care if I had any other options without getting super creative but I kinda don’t.  We’ve definitely switched from an agility situation (balancing, careful climbing) to a strength situation (climb vertically while wearing plate).  I could roll using my strength attribute straight up but my odds aren’t significantly better…despite the fact that my Strength is FAR higher than my agility.  That’s because there’s no athletics type skill that’s strength based.  There’s no way to sub in appropriate stats for specific uses of a skill like some systems.  There’s no way to improve a roll.  You can Push it to reroll but while that’s a neat idea, it’s kind of a lame mechanism.  It’s just a reroll on a roll where even multiple rolls are likely to fail.  It reminds me of that OSR mindset where you sacrifice a lot of regular, less exciting utility that makes the game flow better overall for those occasional moments of whooping victory.  I’d rather have the former, tbh.  Even something like the way Mutants and Masterminds does rerolls (where you add 10 to a reroll of 10 or less, though in this system you’d reverse that since its roll-under) would make this whole experience flow more smoothly and be more fun.  Now, in this situation, I think the directive is probably to stop overthinking it and simplify as much as possible.  Crossing the chasm requires a roll, I failed the roll, I suffered the consequence, I have now crossed the chasm.  And that’s what I’m going to do, obviously.  But I can foresee a fair amount of situations where one roll might actually need to result in a different roll and a character could end up in an un-fun situation where clunky skill rolls determine a kind of downward spiral narrative.

Right, so, I managed to get through this area without wasting time but now I absolutely have to stop for a stretch to heal.  As a solo, I can make the Healing roll myself to heal 2d6.  Or 1d6 if it's a failure, the book is unclear on this.  I’ll also get back d6 WP, but I haven’t spent any.
Healing, 11 vs 12, Success.  Heal 8, back to 13 HP.
Mark Stretch Rest (you only get one per shift).

Increase Threat to 4 of 6 and torch roll is another 6, so it stays lit.



I inch out onto the ropes, standing on the bottom and using the top to pull myself along.  It feels like everything might go okay when all of the sudden the old rope snaps beneath my weight.  I only have time to think of an expletive before I am hurtling downward into the abyss, a fall that will surely kill me.  And there’s probably lava down there that’ll finish the job if gravity doesn’t manage it.  I reach out blindly and grasp the trailing end of the broken rope in an iron grip.  Falling turns into swinging and the wall comes up faster than I expected.  I bunch up to lessen the probability that the impact shatters something and smash full on into the wall with the most cacophonous noise I’ve ever heard.  And I’m a blacksmith.  Ringing hammers and anvils are like music to me.  This is definitely not music.  Pain races through my body but I know if I let go, I’m a dead duck.  So I bounce a couple more times until I come to a stop against the melted rock wall.  Disturbed, the blueshrooms growing out of the wall pop and explode all around me as I drag myself hand over hand up the rope.  I can feel the stupid thing fraying under the combined weight of me and my ridiculous armor but I gain the lip of the ledge before the rope snaps a second time and ends me for good.

I collapse onto the relatively even ledge, breathing hard.  After a minute or so, I sit up.  I unstrap my breastplate to get at my bruised ribs and tend to them as best I can.  I look back across the chasm sadly.  “So much for that return trip.  I’ll have to find another way back.  But first, the Orc.”  I buckle everything back on, dust myself off, and set off through the tunnel opening on this side.  Ingolfr’s gaze couldn’t penetrate the chasm, so it’s no wonder he didn’t know about the compromised route.  I hope the altar room he mentioned where Gorum currently languishes is nearby…but something in my gut tells me I’ve got a ways to go yet.  Sure hope they don’t have any lookouts though.  There’s no way in this hell they don’t know I’m coming now.



Next: Issue One, Into the Breach, Part 3


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