Talk about your experiences or questions running any of the published adventures.
While these may be edition specific, most adventures aren’t truly the home for rule-heavy discussions.
Tag your topics with the edition shorthand, and be sure to include an indication of which adventure you’re talking about!
Near the conclusion of the Dragon’s Crown mod, the PCs were assaulting the ivory tower of Dasaraches. Some 20+ members of the Order, disenfranchised by Pharises or in opposition to him, accompanied the PCs in hopes of wresting control of the Psionatrix. Poorly armed and bereft of any psionics, the members of the Order were considerably less powerful than the party though all higher level. The party took front rank and did all the heavy lifting in overcoming the Water Drake that blocked the final causeway into the fortress. After the way was cleared, the Order brought up the rear but their nightmare had just begun. The PCs crossed onto the island and the walls of the white fortress were visible. Atop the gate, flagrant in defiance, was a single lanky elf armed with a long bow, nearly so tall as he. He spied the frontal assault in broad daylight easily enough and as soon as they made within range at the double-quick as they were, let fly one shaft.
The PCs were terrified at such a blantant display of supremacy and charged full at the ivory wall and great stone gate aiming to close the gap as quickly as possible. The Order was naive as to what was about to occur, however, and their confidence soared as they perceived resistance would be limited.
The single shaft did not find its mark, however. None saw it land. It instead exploded amidst the crowd of bodies charging the wall. Flame, earth, and body parts were thrown in every direction. The bombardment did not end with one blast alone, the elf launched the cacophonous missiles as swiftly as he could knock them. The assault force was without cover and hemmed in my trees. The shots kept coming, blasting huge craters in the earth. Men’s eyes boiled and the dying littered the approach, screaming their last breaths. The bombardment did not cease and the psionicists began to waver, panicking as their compatriots flew to pieces before their very eyes.
“On, you dogs!” the party fighter screamed at the reeling psionicists, “It’s now or never!” but his voice was lost amidst the deafening roar. The PCs, protected by magics and potent items fared far better and were shaken by the blasts, but kept up their pace and made it to the gate.
They had no method to breach! The archer above them peered down with glee and let loose the last of his devastating ammunition. None of the defiant members of the Order reached the wall save one, the hardy dwarf Delmek who had made it his Focus to reunite the Order. His intense determination gave him the will to survive, but overwhelmed by the wailing of his burning compatriots, the shock of the bombardment, his own grave injuries, and seeing the PCs fumble hopelessly at the gate with no means of resolution he broke and fled in shell shocked terror across the causeway and into the wastes. He, too, surely would have been slain save that the elf ran out of ammunition and busied himself with the PCs right on his doorstep.
Long after the fact, a disintegrate finally ruptured the gate. The party went on to cleanse the fortress without the support of any members of the Order, slaughtering all who opposed them and unmaking the Psionatrix. The Order was that day made extinct except for one, Delmek the Coward, who fled alone across the wastes and into Tyr months later a waif of his former self, his survival a miracle of lunacy and determination. He descended into madness at the thought of his inevitable fate having failed in his Focus. He was thought lost and long forgotten by the party, yet he returned one day much later…