This week, some raging reptiles seek revenge, we complete our first quest, and the death curse finally begins. Yea, death!

The Death Curse! Boo-yah! You guys are screwed now! Bwah-hah-ha.

When last we left our heroes, they have been trying to deliver the NPC Undril Silvertusk to Camp Righteous to reunite her with her faction. They found where the camp was supposed to be but it was abandoned. Before moving on, the group channeled their inner Indiana Jones and defeated a death trap dungeon to walk away with, wait for it… an Alchemy Jug! An alchemy jug?! What is this nonsense? I want gold, dammit, gold!

The main function of an Alchemy Jug is that it produces various liquids upon command, primarily 8 gallons of fresh water per day, which is enough to keep a party of four hydrated for the entire adventure. Terrific, that’s one resource I no longer have to track. All I’m left to manage is food, tej, insect repellent, tents, wagons, oxen, porters, and a dozen other miscellaneous equipment items. But at least I can cross water off the list. I don’t know what all the NPCs are going to drink; that’s their problem.

The Jug doesn’t just produce fresh water, it can create varying amounts of other liquids as well: Acid, Beer, Honey, Mayonnaise, Oil, Poison, Salt Water, Vinegar, and Wine. Sadly, I can tell you that in the months of playing since obtaining this Jug, my group has never used the Jug for anything other than water. They don’t even bother to tell me that they use the Jug anymore, it is just assumed.

Before we move on to the adventure, Ian, Gwen’s player, has brought us a surprise. Usually, I am the one that supplies all the props and gags that I sprinkle through the adventure. But today, it is Ian’s turn. Ian likes to cook, so he often brings snacks and cookies. This time, Ian brought in a portable cooler filled with various liquids. He created his own alchemy jug and we get to partake in a plethora of potent potables. That’s right, it’s the D&D Drinking Game!

There are 10 “beverages” that the Jug creates, and there are 5 players (including me), so we each get two rolls of the dice, and strangely enough, several of us brought multiple d10 dice to the session. What are the odds? Theo went first and rolled at 10, granting him a grape flavored juice box for “wine”. Next, James rolled a 4, and got a spoonful of honey; okay, not the worst. Wes rolled for a beer, so he was rewarded with a cold, frothy can of Root Beer, clearly the winner of the game. I rolled a 7, which “awarded” me a capful of balsamic vinegar; too bad I didn’t bring a salad. Ian also rolled poorly when he got to imbibe a spoonful of oil, vegetable oil, that is. That’s okay, I’m sure it’s good for the digestion or something.

Rounding out the game, Roland rolled for poison and had to chug a whole can of Monster Energy Drink. My apologies to Mr. Monster; I’m sure your swill isn’t really poison. James got the last good item; a bottle of spring water, which I stole later in the session. Wes refused to roll a second time, since all the remaining items were garbage. He just gloated with his root beer while I “won” a squirt of lime juice for “acid” and Ian got stuck with salt water. Nobody rolled for mayonnaise. Good, because mayonnaise is disgusting. Thank you, Ian. This was an excellent diversion, but we got monsters to murder. Maybe we can make them choke to death on all that unused mayonnaise. On to adventure. Almost.

I’ve noticed an unsettling trend that has sprung up during our campaign. We’ve become trapped in a monotonous D&D loop: Slightly Dull Travel Session, followed by Explore Cool Location Session, Repeat ad nauseum. Sometimes the cool location extends out to a few sessions, as it did with the Yuan-ti temple, but generally every other week is kinda boring. And Boring is bad.

The problem is Chult is just too damn big and travel is too damn slow. One hex per day (two if by river; how very Paul Revere of the designers) is excruciatingly slow. It was fine in the beginning, when the group was stranded without any recourses and they struggled to survive just getting to Port Nyanzaru. It was even fine during the first part of this expedition, which, playing rules as written, would take 7 game days just to get to the first named location. But now I’m sick of random encounters. Yet they add so much flavor and uniqueness to the game.

After your group has spent some time in the jungle, I would recommend increasing the distance traveled per day. Doubling the distances allowed (2 hexes by land, 4 by water) will make the sessions getting from one place to the next much more dynamic, and the players will feel like they’re actually getting somewhere. But you have to wait a bit, don’t do it right away. The jungle is supposed to be hard. Once they’ve explored the jungle for a bit, then they can learn how to better navigate it. I would enact this change no earlier than 4^th level. Personally, I will wait until our ranger gets to 6^th level and chooses jungle as his second favorite terrain.

You can also speed up travel sessions by carefully choosing which random encounters to have. The random tables are a great source for ideas, but they are not able to create a balanced play session. Rolling seven combat encounters in a row, as I did once, is boring and repetitive and will drag out the session forever. There are plenty of non-combat encounters to sprinkle in to create a variety of experiences, not just hitting dinosaurs with a stick. Dead explorers, NPC factions, remnants of the Chultan culture, etc. all create that sense of mystery and danger that makes Chult so special. I would limit the Travel session random encounters to one, maybe two, combat encounters, tops.

I also try to make at least one encounter really be connected to the story of Chult and the Tomb of Annihilation. These encounters subtly tell the players that your world is a vibrant, changing world. Things are happening whether the players are involved or not, and creates a sense of reality in our fictious game. Maybe it’s an encounter with the animal representations of the Trickster Gods, or a meeting with the various factions at play like the Flaming Fist or the frost giants. It could be a bit of foreshadowing for the story of Ubtao, Mezro, and Artus Cimber. Perhaps a reminder of the undead and Yuan-ti threats plaguing the land. Or maybe it a big bombshell about Acererak and the Death Curse. Today, it’s all these things.

 

As you know, I did not start the adventure with the Death Curse already activated. I wanted to let my player explore Chult before this oppressive ticking time bomb forces them to run to the finale. I expected to let my players have at least two expeditions into the jungle before I started this countdown clock. But the flip side is that my players are just wandering around with no real purpose and they are getting restless about starting their epic, world-shattering adventure. Rule 1 of journalism, entertainment, and roleplay: Give the audience (and your players) what they want. It’s time to start the Death Curse.

Looking at my “official” Forgotten Realms calendar, which I’ve heavily modified to fit with Chultan culture, I see that tomorrow is the Festival of the Monsoon, also called Azul’s Tears, one of five “holidays” that fall in between the regular monthly calendar. In my world, there is always a monsoon on this day, but rather than hide from the storm, the Chultan people celebrate and revel in the life-providing gift of the heavens that is rain. It would be an interesting contradiction to have this day be the start of Acererak’s soul-stealing Death Curse. Plus, I like having big events occur on holidays just so I can remember when it happens, rather than on some random Tuesday. On top of all that, there is also a full moon and an eclipse this day, and since Dendar, the evil Yuan-ti goddess, is represented by the moon, today is perfect to unleash hell upon my world. You can view a PDF of my full Chultan calendar here: Calendar ToA

Of course, my players don’t know or really care about all this lore, so I have to show them that something monumental and unsettling has just occurred. A few hours after our heroes have bid farewell to the Crocodile Man as they paddle up river looking for signs of the Order of the Gauntlet, it begins to rain. Quickly, the light refreshing rain turns into a heavy downfall and is accompanied by gale force winds; it’s a monsoon. The party is forced to beach their boats and make a hasty camp. Meanwhile, the two Tabaxi guides and their native porters insist on dancing in the rain rather than help. When asked, the guides explain the Festival of the Monsoon and its importance to the Chultan people. They further tell them that tonight there will be a lunar eclipse; when the full moon is magically removed from the sky for one night, signifying Ubtao’s defeat over Dendar, the evil night serpent and the Mistress of the Moon.

The rains end just at nightfall begins with a crystal-clear sky. Through the canopy, our heroes gaze up at the millions of stars and watch as the shadow of the earth slowly blots out the full moon in a purely natural phenomena, not some magical display of a dead god’s divine power. But then mystically in a magical display of a dead god’s divine power, just as the last sliver of moon is snuffed out in shadow, everyone is rendered unconscious.

I hand each of my players their individual “dream” card that I created prior to the session. I won’t repeat them all but I will include a PDF of all four dreams if you really want to read them. It was a lot of fum putting these together, delving into their backstories, and teasing flashes from the furture. They all share a similar structure with a memory from the past, a glimpse of each individual’s afterlife, an ominous portend, and a foreboding warning.  Here is a link to that PDF: ToA Acererak Dream cards

As an example, here is the dream I gave to Gwen our cleric, whose portend of the future will be the first they encounter.

You are back in your childhood home with your father, Bromzek. You are strapped to a table and your father stands over you holding a dagger. But no one arrives to save you as he plunges the dagger into your chest. Now you are floating over a flat, gray land. In the distance you see a stone city with a crystal spire in the center. You recognize it as the Fugue Plane, the realm of Kelemvor. The world below fades and becomes the teeming jungle of Chult, rising like a phoenix out of the sea. Now you are falling, faster and faster, the fronds of the kapok trees whipping your face. You land with a thud on the hard ground. You are in a walled compound surrounded by sharpened stakes. Suddenly, the front gate is smashed and a thousand undead swarm in, crushing you. As they begin to feed on your flesh, you hear a deep gravelly voice as if rising out of a tomb, “You’ve escaped death once, but no longer. See you soon.”

For each memory, I chose a moment when the character could have or even should have died. Gwen’s backstory had her being saved from being murdered by her father. A cleric of Kelemvor saved her, thus beginning her worship of that god. Thames’s entire family was killed in a distant war with a mysterious human enemy. Roland and Martic don’t have elaborate backstories, so I chose moments from the campaign where if things had gone differently, they could have died; Roland at the Yuan-ti sacrifice and Martic during the attack of Aremag, the dragon turtle.

As for each character’s personal afterlife, Gwen’s god, Kelemvor rules over the Fugue Plane where the recent dead go to await final judgement. Hunters, rangers and the Neutral Good, all things which apply to Martic, go to the forest realm of Elysium. Coincidentally, both lawful good paladins, and metallic dragons both end up in the Greek mythology inspired world of Mount Celestia. For your players, you can look on the Forgotten Realms Wiki or in the old school Manual of the Planes to find what “heaven” best suits your players.

On to the portends of possible futures. Gwen’s is the most relevant right now, because I’m certain she will recognize Camp Righteous as the location of her vison as soon as they get there. Gwen’s player, Ian, loves playing in character and I hope that she will be sufficiently freaked out that this place might be where her character dies. (Spoiler: Ian does not disappoint). The other “deaths” represent possibilities that might occur at the hands (or rather paws) of the Thunder King tyrannosaurus rex, or in the “Snake lady” garden of Nagalore, and even in the Tomb of Annihilation.

Of course, the main purpose of these dreams is to let the players know that something totally messed up just occurred. I will repeatedly return to theses dreams every time someone they’ve met succumbs to the Death Curse. This will really kick in during the next few sessions. Every dream ends the same with a menacing voice from the grave saying, “See you soon.” My players asked if this is the same voice heard coming from the sending stone owned bt Ras Nsi. No, the dream voice is deep and raspy and totally different from the suave, debonair voice I use for Ras Nsi. Someone else, someone new and unknown, is behind this new disturbing development.

Speaking of Ras Nsi and the sending stone, the next morning, after getting no rest, no healing, and now suffering one level of exhaustion from the nightmares, the sending stone disrupts their morning coffee by going off like an alarm clock. “Mister mystery guests. You’ve made quite a mess at Hasashastack but Maztil was overconfident. Enjoy your spoils but do not interfere with my plans again.” Exactly 25 words per sending stone message rules.

“Mister mystery guest” is a quote from Hans Gruber in Die Hard, my inspiration for this sending stone walkie talkie. Hasashastack is the name of the Yuan-ti temple the heroes defiled, but they don’t know that. They did recognize the name Maztil as the Yuan-ti boss they killed. So, now our heroes know that Ras Nsi has probably been to the temple, knows the heroes are a threat, but is not your typical Kill-the-PCs-at-all-costs bad guy since he offers to let them live.

The last time Ras Nsi sent them a message via the sending stone, the players were afraid to respond and treated the stone like a hand grenade, no one wanted to touch it. This time Roland grabbed the stone from Thames and gave Ras Nsi a piece of his mind. “Hi? Who are you? What’s going on at Haasalshat…? What are you on and where can I get some? I think you have the wrong…” There was more but Roland went past the 25-word limit and Ras Nsi never received the rest of the message. But I can tell you that Ras Nsi no longer thinks that he is dealing with worthy foes, but rather just a group of lucky idiots. He might just have to kill them after all.

It’s two days of river travel to the new Order of the Gauntlet outpost, Camp Vengeance. Three if you count the monsoon delay. My random encounters for those days are: Dead Explorer, shambling mound, and crocodiles. For the dead explorer, I rolled for an albino dwarf with six holes puncturing his chest, curtesy of a stegosaur’s tail spikes. This is the group’s first encounter with this pale-skinned native version of dwarf but it won’t be the last. They also find an onyx orb with carving of an Ubtao maze on it. This item can be used as an arcane focus but we have no wizard so it goes in the sack with the rest of the miscellaneous gems.

The shambling mound encounter was fun too. Mostly because this is one of my favorite paint jobs and I love to show him off. But the combat was exciting as well. It was another monster wanders into camp looking for an easy meal. Unfortunately, these monsters never break into the easily killed porter tent and always try to nab one of the “seasoned” adventurers. I was able to engulf Roland into the shambling mound’s body, so there was some tense moments before the rest put the plant down and Roland was able to crawl out covered in slime, moss, dirt and leaves.

But I saved the best fight for the end. The book says that 1d4+1 crocodiles attack. Forget that measly number. How does 15 crocodiles sound? Sounds like a party to me. My method for combat encounter design often comes down to how many minis I have. I do own one single “proper” croc mini on a proper base, but I also own this toy store bag of plastic croc “action figures”. Which do you think I used?

As the group paddles upstream deeper into the unknown, the water become more brackish, the trees are stunted, overcome by thick coils of vines and creepers and the oppressive drone of stinging incests drowns out all other sounds. We’ve arrived at the outskirts of the Aldani Basin, a large swamp in the center of Chult. For the first time in forever, Martic felt right at home. His favorite terrain is swamp.

But not for long. As they paddle along, they hear a splash off to their left, then their right, and then directly behind them. Suddenly, one of the canoes is rocked by something big ramming them from below. The group can see dark shadows moving around in the mirk, followed by the swish of a tail or a glimpse of a bumpy log. Crocodiles! Or maybe alligators; they didn’t stop to ask. The encounter started as I expected; with the group paddling furiously to get away. Then another canoe is rammed, then a third. This time the occupants fail their DEX save and everyone on board was knocked into the infected waters.

The boat flips, sending one guide, two porters and two heroes into the drink along with the last crate of rations and one of the water barrels. Everyone quickly swims for shore while the crocs, sensing food in the water, surface to feast. The important people make it to shore but another porter is lost, as he is pulled under and devoured. With targets on the surface, those still in the boats fire everything they got to scare the crocs away. But there’s fresh blood in the water; they’re not going anywhere.

I still expected the group to give up on the swamped boat, forget the lost supplies, grab the survivors on shore, cram them the last boats and paddle away. In my twisted logic, it made sense that these crocodiles should enact their karmic revenge on the heroes who defeated the Crocodile Man shrine. With the sheer number of foes facing the party, this was the only option, right? I did not expect the paladin to draw a metaphorical line in the sand and go full Rambo on these leathery leviathans of the mire.

Roland went insane. He used his boat to ram multiple crocs. He jumped on the back of a dead one as it floated downstream to swing at another one that was just out of reach. If he could have, he would have grabbed one crocodile to beat the other ones to death with it. He was unstoppable. The rest of the gang followed suit. And in much shorter time than I could have ever thought possible, 15 crocodiles floated dead down river, all to get caught in a jetty along with the overturned boat and their supplies, which they salvaged. They also skinned and harvested all of them, so they’ll be eating croc fritters for weeks now that Miche (still an NPC) is back with the group.

Part of their motivation to kill these crocs was they didn’t know how long they would have to last before they found Undril Silvertusk’s people. That’s why they refused to abandon their supplies. At the end of the day, they set up camp as usual. On the next day, they were a little miffed when they only had to travel for about an hour before they saw the new outpost for the Order of the Gauntlet, Camp Vengeance. Ignoring my sense of irony, they beached the canoes and walked up the embankment to the walled fort built of study spiked trees and surrounded by a low moat, just like in Gwen’s vision. They approached the heavy front gate, taking note of the DM-added pile of corpses to the north-east corner outside of the fort.

“Hold there, strangers. What brings you this far into Hell, to knock on our door.”

“We are adventurers, delivering one of your own, with orders and missives from Port Nyanzaru.”

Seeing Undril’s faction crest, the guards open the gate. A dwarven guard in charge says to Undril, “You look exhausted sister, please follow this guard to the commander.” Yes, they’ve successfully completed their very first quest, and I can get rid of this NPC anchor. To the group, the dwarf says, “Well met, strangers. Torm lead over you. I am Captain Firebeard. Thank you for escorting our sister to us. Please. come inside. Feel free to look around, but stay close, the commandant will want to speak with you shortly.”

Now I’m running out of time for this session and I got a bunch of stuff to do before I spring the big cliffhanger for next week. I gotta describe the camp and its defenses, I got introduce some new NPCs and have the characters make a good (or bad) impression on then, I gotta deal with Gwen who is freaking out because yes, she does recognize this fort as the one they all will probably die in, and I gotta roleplay the “conversation” with the man in charge and pray the players don’t attack him. Which is a very likely conclusion to that scenario.

As they walk around, I describe the walls and watchtowers of the fort, letting them make their own conclusions as to the obvious blind spot. The defenses are decent, but the living conditions are deplorable; stagnant pools of water breed insects and disease, the food stores are dwindling, and everyone appears at the end of their resolve. Some appear defiant, but most are resigned to their fate. A human female cleric in dirty, frayed robes approaches. Well met. Helm protect over you. I am Sister Cyas. Do any of you happen to have any healing magics upon you?” When they answer yes, she says, “Praise be to Helm, he sends us aid. Quick, follow me.”

In the Medical tent, they find a couple of beleaguered clerics attempt to treat dozens of afflicted soldiers. Some have severe wounds, many have a multitude of diseases, and at least one is suffering from a bout of Blue Mist Madness. Of course, every single, bloody character in modern 5e D&D has some sort of healing, so they are able to cure most of those afflicted. I’m seriously going to have to tweak these healing rules even more, especially when it comes to diseases. Regardless, our heroes gain some brownie points with Sister Cyas which will come in handy later.

Of bigger concern is Gwen. She is going around like a madwoman talking to everyone about the impending undead invasion that she knows is coming, “We’re all doomed! You just got to trust me!” She looks like one of those crazy bums in comic books walking around with a sign that reads “Repent! The End is Nigh!” She doesn’t know it, but these soldiers see zombie attacks nearly every day, so they are unimpressed with her doomsday prophesy and keep ignoring her, which is driving her even more crazy.

Before long, they are brought before the commandant of the camp, Templar Niles Breakbone. He is pouring over a crude map which just has the word “undead” in a dozen places surrounding a circle with the word “Us” in the center. Once they are announced by their escort and before any players can say anything, Templar Breakbone says, “Excellent. Fresh recruits. Rest up you four. In the morning, take a squad of soldiers and survey the swamp to the south, clearing out any undead you find. And may Tyr guide your sword. Dismissed.”

The players could have accepted this and said “Aye, aye sir,” and moved on to the cliffhanger surprise. But players are players and they hate getting bossed around by anyone. “Doesn’t this idiot NPC know that I am the hero of this story?!” No, he does not and he does not care. This NPC is in charge. Players are reckless, disruptive trouble makers. Now do as you’re told.

As I expected, this “conversation” went downhill very quickly. The players failed to realize that this is a military operation and the guy at the top is essentially the king and his orders are not to be questioned directly to his face by you nobodies. You cannot entice the king to do what you want without a little diplomacy. The players used zero diplomacy.

Roland immediately went on the offensive. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We are not your lackeys to push around. We don’t work for the Order.”

“Consider yourself conscripted. I said you were dismissed. Now carry out your orders.” Templar Breakbone does not have the time to suffer fools.

“Screw that! We came here to warn you. There’s an army of undead that’s going to attack. You’re all going to die!”

Breakbone lays into him, “Of course, there’s an army of undead. We are on a divine mission from the gods to defend this land against this scourge of undead. We fight the undead every day. We are all prepared to lay down our lives to defend our oath. Who are you to question that? What do you stand for, if anything? More coin than you can carry and a belly full of ale?” I love religious zealots. Not in real life. Those guys suck. But in D&D, they’re great.

Roland refused to give in. “Look around, man. You are going to fail that mission. Your people are dying, you arrogant ass.”

“I will not allow such insolence and insubordination in my ranks. Perhaps a night in the stockade will teach you some respect. Guards, take him away.”

This very tense moment was seconds away from turning into an irreversible path of destruction. Roland was about to draw his sword, but I could see he was looking for a way out, so I gave him one. Undril was in the tent. I describe the look of horror on her face as she is shaking her head “no” and motioning for Roland to hold. Roland backs off. Undril speaks, “Sir, I can speak for these four. They are good people and have suffered greatly to deliver me here safely. They do not know our ways. Be merciful.”

“Fine. But that one still spends the night in the brig. He must learn to obey the chain of command.” Roland relents and allows him to be escorted to the prisoner pens. “Now do you three have anything relevant to add?’

With great trepidation, Gwen took up the role of primary speaker. “My companion speaks the truth. There is an army of undead on their way, and they will overrun this camp.”

“When will this happen? And how do you come by this information?”

“I don’t know when. Soon. And Í, uhm, saw it in a dream.”

“Í don’t take tactical advice from unconscious delusions, but if it will make you feel better, I’ll double the guard tonight. Dismissed. And this time I mean it.”

Taking the hint, the rest of the group left to find a bed for the night. I allowed this rest to be a sheltered long rest and healed everyone back up to full. Believe me they’ll need it.

Meanwhile Roland was desperate to escape. All players act like caged animals whenever you take away their freedom. He was about to do something rash (i.e. misty step out of the cage and attack the guards), so I had Sister Cyas approach the cell. “I won’t forget the help you gave us back in the medical tent. Don’t worry, I’ll talk the Templar into letting you go. Don’t do anything foolish until I get back.” This calmed the peeved paladin and stopped him from blowing up the campaign. I gave him the full rest benefit as well.

Just after midnight, our heroes are awoken by a call of alarm. “To arms! Movement detected at the northern treeline.” Captain Firebeard comes to the un-detained heroes. “One of our towers is underdefended. Will you help defend the walls?” Of course, they said yes, my players are mostly quite accommodating. “Follow me. There’s one more thing.” Firebeard leads them to the stockade. “Roland, if I release you, will you protect the Camp as best you can?” Roland agrees, and with a sign from Firebeard, he is released. “You four go to the northeast tower and keep those accursed abominations from breaching the walls. Now move it!”

Next week, an epic undead invasion, the first glimpse at Ras Nsi, and Martic plays his cards right.

As always, every encounter, even random ones, should drive the story forward, and Game On!

Ramming Speed! – Roland & D-Day, because they’re sick of the Man (and crocodiles) trying to keep them down.

Check out my Tomb of Annihilation Resources Page, filled with all the stuff I use to make this epic campaign even more epicier: My full Campaign Diary, plus Handouts, Maps, Charts, PDFs, Images, and more to use, abuse, or ignore at your peril.

And written specifically for this adventure, read my Explorer’s Guide to Chult to delve into all the legands, lore, history, religion, and culture that I used to bring even more life to this adventure.