#eight petals argent
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I’m enjoying the solo play adventure book thing right now, after trying Wolves of Langston by Obvious Mimic, so I found an article on their site with recs for other solo 5e adventures, and on the strength of that I picked up Eight Petals Argent by Wraith Wright Productions. I’ve just finished running through the 1st book with a baby lvl 1 twilight cleric.
It’s a much different experience to Wolves of Langston, much more of a dungeon crawl (well, two dungeon crawls), and with much more note-keeping in the form of a play journal (I actually enjoyed that aspect, but I’m a note-keeping sort of girl). I can now say I’ve had the following (hopefully non-spoilery) experiences:
Got thoroughly lost in the dungeon, not because I didn’t have a map or didn’t understand the map, but because I was looking for a specific thing for a puzzle and couldn’t bloody find it. Which would be fine, except the dungeon is timed (there’s a deadline to hand in the macguffin).
Forgot completely about the Aid spell that had been cast on me (I noted it in the journal but NOT on my actual character sheet, so I never noted the extra HP), meaning I ran that dungeon with 5HP less than intended. I didn’t die, but I spent a significant portion of it with 2HP to my name.
Because you go straight from the dungeon to a chase with only a brief stop by a healer in between, and she only has one spell slot for you, I had to choose between getting a disease removed or getting HP back, and since the disease capped my HP, I chose to get it removed. Which meant I spent that entire chase scene, in which our gang’s glorious leader makes several questionable decisions, with 2HP. Stop doing silly things! If someone sneezes on me, I’m toast! I absolutely cannot get in a fight right now!
By the time all of that is sorted out and we can head home for the first long rest in this adventure, I get the reminder that the Aid spell has run out. You know. The one I forgot. So I’m standing there going … that would have been a really good thing to have remembered before now. Given that it would have added half again to my lifespan down there.
I didn’t get anyone else killed either, which I was a lot more concerned about.
Level 1 characters have no spell slots. Well, no, I had two spell slots. For the whole dungeon, plus the chase scene. I blew one in a panic while trapped with an enemy somewhere flammable (I wanted it dead fast before environmental things started happening) and the second on a mini-boss monster. Which was why, despite playing a cleric, I couldn’t heal myself. If you play this with a spellcaster, be aware that you get one long rest for two dungeons over the course of the book, so pack damage cantrips and/or a good old fashioned clobbering stick. And nab any healing potions provided. After the long rest, I lost a spell slot healing someone else before even getting to the next mission, so I did the second dungeon with exactly one spell slot.
(The second dungeon also has one little puzzle/obstacle that reminded me so much of a particular scene from the Neverending Story. You’ll know it when you come across it. It tickled me pink, once I was sure I wasn’t going to die of it)
The whole adventure is very much about resource management. The most agonising thing is that both dungeons are timed, because they’re missions to get specific objects, and the mission-giver gives you a deadline. So you are constantly weighing the need to explore vs the time it will take to explore. I actually came out with very little loot, because I was so paranoid about time. But you also have to explore, because you’re looking for puzzle pieces and quest items and what have you, so it’s a delicate balancing act.
You are level 1 for this whole book, and you do quite a bit during it. It is definitely a lot of fun. Probably more so if you’re at least comfortable with note-taking and minding your resources. But this book was definitely a very involved couple of evenings playing through, and I enjoyed it quite a bit.
Might try it on a non-caster and see how that goes. You kinda do want some decent mental stats for a lot of the puzzles, though, so as tempted as I am to try it with a barbarian, that might stall out some. Though, that could be the challenge …
Good book! Going to look at book 2 of the series now!
(And yes, my first instinct on making a character, pretty much every time, is to make a cleric. I should probably branch out a bit. I just like clerics)
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The Scribe
A piece written for my birthday by the immensely talented Saenon of Argent Dawn EU. I couldn’t be more pleased with this, it’s absolutely beautiful!
She tried to understand, as she watched them cuddled in the prow like cubs, drawing their fingertips through one another’s hair and talking in low voices. She tried to understand what the one saw in the other, to see through their adoring eyes - perhaps there was a certain nobility in Stormvine’s brow, a lopsided charm in the flare of his nostrils when he laughed at one of the witticisms they passed between themselves as though they were honeyed figs. She tried to understand, but mainly she remembered. Or remembered at the remove of having before imagined, in Ashenvale, in the rain, as the evening mellowed.
There were two of them, lovers. They were all told. And Saenon could never bring herself resent them, anyway, these men - and they usually were men - who seized on the opportunity to wring more from their quiet lives than they were supposed to. A scribe and his tutor. She imagined it as they were briefed in the candlelit chamber, their glaives set neatly against the wall like a Temple chorus, frozen open-mouthed - a scribe and his tutor, two lovers. They would be small, with narrow wrists. The fear in their trembling lips as they kissed each other, somewhere out there, in a glade dripping with violets - because by now they would have been lost irrevocably to a romantic fatalism. Their concave chests, the desperation as they pressed their bodies together. The image evoked no greater feeling in her than that of two saplings blowing against each other in a wind.
They were professional, unflustered, as they set out two abreast down the shadowed road. The glaives, now strapped to their shoulders rippling a shattered shine under the lantern-light like pairs of cats’ eyes - four, six, eight. The air was cool on her skin. A whistle up ahead brought the convoy to a stop, and Outrunner Dawnblossom appeared in the branches overhead with the impetuous suddenness of a dragonfly landing on a reed. She had been there all along, of course. She smiled down at the Huntress.
“We have them?”
The Outrunner nodded, and slipped down into the saddle behind Saenon. The saber bobbed his coal-black head and splayed his claws in the mulch. Saenon kept a firm grip on the reins as her eyes reached through the thickening Ashenvale night.
“We ought to wait for the others,” she mumbled, as she felt Sister Dawnblossom begin to nock and arrow, the fletching brushing very accidentally-on-purpose against the tip of Saenon’s ear.
“I don’t want to.”
“No-one ever wants to.”
“Let’s go, then,” Dawnblossom muttered, winding an arm around Saenon’s waist.
The Huntress grumbled, but grabbed a gentle hold of her saber’s ear and drove him, with a squeeze of her thighs, out into the night. The cold rain prickled at their faces as they rode, navigating every hair-pin turn, dodging every overhanging branch with an eerie acuity. Saenon bore down low over the reins as she felt Dawnblossom rise, and heard the sigh of a tensing bow.
Everything that happened next happened so fast it happened slowly. She had once dropped a priceless vase belonging to her Min’da - painted with little interlaced blossom branches - and she remembered watching the shards of porcelain part and splay across the dark marble of the reception-room floor as slowly, it seemed to her, as petals opening after a long winter. There was crash, the trees were flooded with brightness, and Saenon heard - more than felt - a crunch at the top of her spine as the saber lost his footing.
The damp overgrowth was steaming and dripping hot. Two tendrils of hair had made their way into her bloodied mouth and rested across her tongue - and for a moment, she mistook the thumping in her skull for the galloping of reinforcements. Remembering - remembering now - as she watched him cradle Veramis’ head to his shoulder, how the little pockets of flame had caught in the downpour, the night cross-hatched with flame. And then she saw her.
The hips and her ribs seemed somehow misaligned, the tenuous contract of the spine dissolved. They pointed in different directions. Her arms were spread-eagled, and her face - Elune, her face - angled upward toward the smouldering canopy. Her white cheek had opened was incised in a way that looked neat, like the work of a field-surgeon - the pearl of her gum at the brow of her fang exposed. Saenon struggled to pull off her damp gloves, slipping on her haunches in the mulch of blood, body, mud - to close her lifeless eyes.
“I - we didn’t mean - “
His voice was barely a voice - or perhaps it was drowned by thud, thump of blood in her temples. But whatever he said she didn’t hear it, and rose to her feet, chasing the black-cloaked figure deeper into the forest. Her hands closed around a bow. Dawnblossom’s. Had it lain on the forest floor or had she pulled it from her stiffening fingers? The glitter of spellwork tattooed the darkness between the trees as she drew the string back against her cheek and -
There was the bile, yes. As if he had slid his way through time and space from that moment to this, plucking her up on the way like a silver apple and dropping meteoric from between the clouds to the prow of the Myrmidon. And for a moment - just a moment - she wished the arrow had followed.
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Things I have now learned in D&D 5e: when you’re low level and you’re facing a swarm of spiders and you’re down to your last spell slot, the Sleep spell is 100% a girl’s best friend.
Twilight Sanctuary is also a girl’s, and everyone in 30ft of hers, best friend.
Sweet Selune, I don’t know how I didn’t die there.
#d&d#5e#solo adventures#eight petals argent#i fucking hate spiders#it would have been fine if it wasn't our third battle of the day with no rests#and the previous one wiped out everything we had except that spell slot and channel divinity#i'm so glad i forgot to pop it the previous fight
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Okay. I just want to continue my (SPOILERY) happy burbling about that one NPC from the Eight Petals Argent series. I’ve just finished Siege at Lamstrand Long, the third and so far final book in the series (there are four more planned, but not published yet):
I love Arold so much. I cannot explain how attached I’ve become to this corporate half-elf nincompoop. If his employers ever turn on him I will massacre their asses. He could turn out to be a cultist of a horrific evil right now and I would still at least try to get him out alive. Nobody touch this man. I will shank you.
The third book starts with him sending us up some mountains to get back a book (and some other things) after it’s been stolen from a caravan raid and massacre. He’s gotten permission from the Watch to interfere in the investigation, but it’s fairly obviously forged permission, and the Watch investigator assigned is pretty damn aware of it and thinks Arold is some pushy rich asshole who’s going to screw the whole investigation for his own ends, and that he’s sent us along to be his bully boys in that cause. Which is understandable. (Incidentally, Karvel of the Watch is a cool old man and I will also shank people on his behalf as well). We find something else at the caravan massacre that spooks Arold something fierce and he heads back to investigate it while we accompany the watchman up the mountain to get the book and rescue anyone who survived the massacre.
It goes tits up. Spectacularly tits up, to the tune of a lot of bodies and a series of running fights that burn through all of my six shiny new spellslots and pretty much every other resource our little party possesses, and there’s still a lot more enemy. A LOT. So we’re going to die. But there’s soldiers coming, and Karvel thinks it’s the Watch reinforcements he sent for, but it’s not. It’s Arold and the entire mercenary company he mobilised on his own recognisance to come get us. Again, I should mention, Arold is another agent of his employers. We didn’t think he had the authority to actually do that, and possibly he doesn’t, but he came. Whatever was in that wagon spooked him enough that he came loaded for bear, and saved all our bacon.
I should mention that he came personally. This dude we dragged pantsless through a horrific adventure last book, who was completely traumatised by the last, much smaller battle site he saw, came personally with his paid armed forces to come get us.
And pays for it. Because there are a LOT more enemy, and they ambush us on the road down even through the company he paid to come get us, and they attack again through the entire fortified mercenary camp down on the High Road into Waterdeep. There’s a legit battle. And he takes hits, and he goes down, and he rides back with us to Waterdeep in the wounded wagon.
And it’s at this point that I remember to finally give him his book. The thing that started this whole mess. And he literally immediately plops himself down and starts reading. In the wounded wagon. He literally doesn’t even say thanks, or anything, he just opens it and is immediately lost to the world. He completely misses the grizzled old watchman trying to silently apologise for misjudging him. Because you give this man a book and the rest of the world stops existing. It’s adorable.
Part-way down he reads something and starts laughing. “At one point he lets out a long, hearty laugh, then he turns the page and falls back into silence.” Which does not exactly suit the mood of the moment. But later. When we do get down. We find out what he was laughing at:
“It relates to the Argent Gate,” Arold explains, talking to Latchboy as you read the book. “There’s nothing new in here, but it confirms a few things the Seekers have been assuming. Look at this part—we could have used this book a while ago.”
Arold reaches over and flips some pages, nearly causing you to drop the book. “Here,” he says.
You read a historian’s warning about the gate having lost stability a decade after it was built; there’s a minimum safe distance everyone must stand from it, lest they be sucked through the portal too each time it is used.
“It looks like eighteen feet is the safe distance,” Arold says with a laugh. “Not that I didn’t enjoy our island vacation.”
That was the rueful laugh of a man who went through absolute hell last book because we’d lost the instruction manual for the technology we were using. He was sitting recovering from wounds and poison in a medical wagon after his whole life has been upended, and personally showing up to battle sites and actually fighting in them is a thing he’s learned to do, and it’s all because of one documented safety precaution that they didn’t know to make. I mean. I get the laughing now.
18 feet. 18 feet and he might never have had to know what someone looks like when literally torn in half. 18 feet and he might never have had to wind up in a coma, have to weigh his mission against his life, be in a position to suffer an assassination attempt. 18 feet and he might not have learned to be the sort of employer who personally shows up to help rescue his people. Sweet Selune.
So the next time I’m going through the gate …
In the basement, the cleanup is more evident. The traps seem to be gone, particularly the alcoves that guarded the approach to the portal room. You wonder if the deadly statues of Gond are still there, behind the new bricks.
“Wait here,” Arold says, approaching the Argent Gate. He takes out a measuring string and unrolls it toward you. Then he marks the floor with chalk. “Eighteen feet for safety. Plus, two more for extra safety!” he says.
The Red Shields look nervously at the measuring mark. One of them takes another step back, despite already being behind the line.
“Now, before you go, let me brief you,” Arold says.
And two more for extra safety.
I fucking love this man.
And this is leaving aside the facts that he made a desk out of a wine crate from the island (and possibly emptied it enough to use as a desk by himself), and the adorable scene of him and Bell, one of our gang, bonding over the fact that she’s the Waterdeep equivalent of those people who start decorating for Christmas four months in advance and the tackier the better.
If he turns out to be evil I’m just not going to be able to kill him. Not that I think he is, I’m just saying. My potential morals have been decidedly compromised by the fact that he’s absolutely adorable and I will permit no harm to come to him.
Great job with the NPC, people! I’ve only had him for three books, and already if anything happens to him I will kill everyone in this room and then myself. Heh.
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Okay, this is rather (VERY) spoilery for the 2nd book of the Eight Petals Argent solo adventure series, but I just want to quickly talk about my fondness for this one (rather important) NPC:
Because we fucked up the portal programming, we accidentally dragged our pen-pusher employer through the gate with us, and he was not remotely prepared. To quote:
“Me? I…” Arold splutters. “I never meant to get near that portal. You must have done something wrong with the levers! I should still be in Waterdeep right now!”
Rufio sighs deeply.
“If I knew you’d bring me on this trip,” Arold continues, “I could have worn some trousers.” He lifts the hem of his robe, showing how uselessly he’s equipped for adventuring.
He literally doesn’t even have pants. He doesn’t have his spellbook. He has pretty much nothing. We dragged this poor pantless wonder on a desert island adventure with curses and pirates and horrible monsters, and pretty much everything that could possibly go wrong for him (short of actual death, thankfully) promptly did go wrong. He got happy fixing a device, gets it working again, and it immediately flies off on him:
The three of you watch the painted creature fly away.
“Shit,” Arold says when the dragon has passed beyond sight.
We come across a horrible massacre climbing a mountain and he, a half-elf pencil pusher, encounters the lovely site of another half-elf torn in two. We find her legs later.
“Half a half-elf,” Arold muses, pointing out her slightly pointed ears. The Seekers’ agent sits down in the dirt with a vacant expression. You remember that Arold never signed up to see the dangers—and sometimes horrors— that come with adventuring. Watching him stare into space, absently touching his own ears, makes you wonder whether he’ll return to his old, pampered lifestyle once you’re all safely back in Waterdeep. Sights like this can change a person.
And then, because we fucked up protecting him early on, long-term effects happen, and he winds up in a coma. And to fix him we have to destroy at least part of what he’s been sent to get. Like. He did not sign up for any of this. Later on, when we get him back alive and rescue arrives, complications happen, and we have to demand something of him rather strenuously. He gives it immediately. When everybody’s reunited again after said complications:
Arold is next off the landing boat, followed by some of the Homeward’s sailors carrying luggage. Arold hugs you fiercely.
“We should not have become friends,” the half-elf says, his voice serious. “It made me feel guilty to wish you were in my place during that voyage.”
He hugs me. We dragged him (accidentally, but still) through absolute hell, nearly got him killed, and he hugs me. And then argues on our behalf with our mutual employers to get us extra money despite the fact that we literally blew up half of what we were sent to get.
And as a crowner, he comes by our place to tell us this after some … other complications have happened, so he busts in all cheerful and walks face-first into a very tense mood. Poor bastard:
“Money!” the half-elf says, joyously. A moment later, he seems to intuit the pervading mood and tempers his enthusiasm. His voice turns solemn.
I have just finished this book (Fight for the Dawn Saber), and I have to say I am very fond of this poor bugger. I will kill people for Arold. Not a bother. And, given complications, I may well have to, but that’s fine. That’s absolutely fine. I’m gonna pick him up, and I’m gonna put him somewhere safe, some nice office with no pirates or constructs or infected aberrations, and I’m gonna shank anyone who looks at him funny. It’ll all be fine.
Sorry. Just. He’s been through a lot. I really want to just wrap him up and give him soup and (if at all possible) gently steer him out of the firing line. This was absolutely not the job he signed on for.
Anyway. Carry on.
#d&d#5e#solo adventures#eight petals argent#getting attached to hapless NPCs#but seriously#that poor bastard#i love him
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OMFG. I’m continuing my solo adventure through the Eight Petals Argent series, and, in another dungeon, my esteemed NPC companion decides to just pop open a sarcophagus, no checks, no nothing, on the justification that, and I quote, ‘It’s alright, I’m a priest’.
... Boy, if that sarcophagus or whatever it holds doesn’t kill you, I fucking will. I’m also a priest. I’d still like to check if there’s a spring loaded crossbow or what the fuck in there! I have empirical proof, from the fight we finished 6 seconds ago, that faith doesn’t stop stabby slashy things!
(I mean, I do have Shield of Faith prepared, so it’ll stop some stabby slashy things, but not as a reaction. I’m a divine caster, not an arcane one. We need Shield for that!)
It doesn’t help that we’re in a tomb in an artificer’s workshop. There could be literally anything in there!
(It’s fine, it is actually safe, but thanks for that heart attack, dude! You were doing so well so far, but now I’m remembering how stressed you made me during the chase last book)
#d&d#5e#solo adventures#eight petals argent#npcs#omg#sure lets open random coffins#that'll end well#its all right i'm a priest#well you're about to MEET YOUR GOD you dipshit#selune help me
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Tagged by @theoutcastrogue
Tag someone you want to get to know better! Or just check in with.
Favourite colour: I change my mind on this all the time, but red and green are both recurring favourites. I tend to like darker, saturated tones for both, and also veering towards yellow more than white when going lighter. Think garnet over ruby, peridot over emerald?
Last song: Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin. I’ve exploring songs with a kind of dark folklore vibe on youtube? See also It Goes Dark by Elk Eyes (found that one via the show Midnight Texas), Saint with a Fever by Patrick Park (found via a Miracles fanvid waay back when). For a classic with this sort of vibe, Sinnerman by Nina Simone.
Last movie: God, when was the last time I sat and watched a movie? It’s actually been a while. Nothing new either, I think I was mostly watching classic B-movies, also on youtube, like 1946’s Shock with Vincent Price (despite the name and star, it’s not a horror movie, it’s a noir thriller about a woman who witnesses a murder and winds up under treatment for shock by the murderer himself, who realises what she would have seen to put her in this state. So, um. Be careful if you have medical triggers? But it’s fun seeing Vincent Price in one of his, shall we say, more subtle roles).
Currently watching: I’ve been quite enjoying Legends of Avantris’ Icebound D&D campaign. There is one particular arc that I keep wanting to scream at people about, because it is such a fantastic use of a couple of creature types and abilities in conjunction to make an absolutely horrifying and icily logical plot. A+ DMing, excellent excellent excellent use of creatures.
Other stuff I watched this year: I’ve been extremely low effort and low maintenance this year, in that I’ve mostly been following Minecraft SMPs and TTRPG playthroughs and calling it good? I haven’t watched an actual TV show in ages. I’ve also found Cinema Cities youtube channel and have been using her videos as recs to look up classic noir and horror films, which has actually been quite a lot of fun (she’s how I found Shock above).
Shows I dropped this year: All of them, apparently? Well, no, it’s mostly that I haven’t picked up any new shows this year. For a couple of years, I think. It’s been a while.
Last book: I semi-recently went on a buying spree through the local second hand bookshop, and I’ve been working my way through my haul. There were a couple of the Lost Fleet series by Jack Campbell in there, which is quite fun if you like military sci-fi. I also got a few horror short story anthologies, including the first of the Black Wings of Cthulhu collections, and a couple of nice collections of ghost stories.
Currently reading: Are we counting solo play D&D adventures? Because I’m currently on Drums at Daggerford with my cleric/ranger, and I am continuously checking to see if the next book in the Eight Petals Argent series has come out yet.
Tagging @oneiriad, @minathevampireslayer, @liuet, @centaine7, @travellingwiththedead, and anyone else who would like to play.
#tag games#recent reads/watches#i've been kind of slow this year#huh#chilling on youtube with old movies and minecraft mostly
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Thanks for sharing your stories of your solo adventures! You inspired me to try them out, and now I've finished the first Eight Petals Argent story and am starting in on the second! Plus, I've backed the sequel to the Wolves adventure on Kickstarter. The EPA adventure was super fun, and given your posts about the sequels, I'm really looking forward to continuing the adventure!
Awesome!
I should mention, I didn't realise I forgot, but when I'm talking about my cleric-ranger character, she's playing through Paul Bimler's solo adventure series starting in Death Knight's Squire. You know. While I'm waiting for the 4th EPA adventure. (Yes, I impulse bought a bunch of solo adventures more or less at once). Very different style to EPA, much freer with treasure and things. Bit more uneven in tone and style, though. I'm enjoying all of these, and I'm glad you are too!
I'm very much looking forward to the 4th EPA whenever it comes out, but in the meantime I'll be trying both these series (and possibly others) which various characters.
Happy to be of assistance!
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I went back to try the first two Eight Petals Argent books as a warlock this time. I think I’m just going to try out various characters of different classes to feel how they all play. And some impressions so far, of a (fathomless) warlock following immediately on the coattails of a (twilight) cleric.
I can’t tell how much of this is just bad luck compared to the cleric, because I’m also trying different routes through the adventure and different skills just mean different routes in some cases regardless, but the warlock feels significantly less survivable? Though this could also be a factor of a solo adventure where it’s all on you. But while they both have the same hit die and Con, with the warlock I’m worrying about my HP a lot more. A lot a lot more.
(I realise twilight cleric is an unfair comparison there, given Twilight Sanctuary and heal spells, but yeah)
Warlock also feels significantly more specialised. The cleric had tools for more situations. These adventures, to be fair to them, do do their best to vary things up a LOT, so different classes can have places where they shine, but what that does mean is that when you’re playing through the whole thing with just your single character to rely on, there’s areas where you struggle. I feel like I felt that less on the cleric, who could handle most things decently well. On the warlock, say, the lengthy outdoor survival challenge was more of an issue.
Where the warlock does feel significantly better, at least straight out of the gate, is combat. I feel like an attack roll cantrip vs purely save cantrips does make a big difference at low levels? Again, that could just be luck of the dice rolls, but I felt like the warlock’s hits just landed more. Once the cleric got up to third level and had things like spiritual weapon online, she sped up a lot more. The warlock, because I’m playing Fathomless, had functionally a spiritual weapon from day one (though it’s not going to level very well by comparison, I’m aware). They felt like they had more control over combat faster.
Although. Caveat. The warlock feels better in ranged combat, specifically. Once they get up into melee combat, the HP issue starts rearing up again, as well as the lower AC and lack of melee attack options. And, again, I realise that if I’d been comparing, say, a knowledge cleric vs a hexblade warlock, this comparison might also go the other way. My cleric having a rapier and a shield to work with helped her out a lot. Now that I’ve hit 3rd level on the warlock and picked up a melee cantrip via Pact of the Tome, we’ll see if that makes a difference.
The warlock’s higher off-the-bat damage output has helped them a lot, though. With the survivability thing too. In that my cleric almost always wound up having to be in melee, because most things survived long enough to close with her, while my warlock once, very memorably for me, survived by the skin of their fucking teeth a gauntlet of three combats in a row with nothing between them because they killed the third enemy in one hit with a hex-augmented agonising eldritch blast from 45ft away. It did 13 damage, which happened to be exactly as many hp as the enemy had. Which was fantastic, because my warlock had 3 hit points left and no means to get more.
In full melee, though, when I’m in tiny dungeon rooms, I have a dagger. Sometimes a hex-augmented dagger, but still just a dagger. It’s rough. I’m flipflopping on my 2nd level spell because of that too. I feel like going Misty Step, but since I’m fighting alone a lot of the time, or with only a single NPC, it might be worth picking up Darkness to pair with my Devil’s Sight? If I’m in a tiny room and forced into melee, dropping darkness might help balance things my way.
I also ran into an odd tactical thing I hadn’t considered with the Tentacle of the Deeps. You can deploy it, to start, anywhere within 60ft. But you can only move it, afterwards, 30ft per turn. Which did me a lot of good when it missed the first attack and the boss enemy promptly dashed to fucking melee with me 60ft away leaving my tentacle waving uselessly in the breeze for two rounds of trying not to die before it could catch up again. If it does hit it helps itself by dropping their move speed, but if it misses it can find itself left behind. I didn’t run into that issue with the cleric as much because, by luck of the draw, by the time she had spiritual weapon she was often in boss-with-minion fights with bosses who didn’t like to move so much, so she could leave the weapon on the boss while she was in melee with the minions. My warlock, who likes to be significantly more mobile to try and keep at range, and who was deploying the tentacle earlier against bosses designed to be much more mobile, ran into positioning issues the cleric didn’t.
I don’t know, I’m kind of having fun getting to actually play these things and explore the tactical and other differences in the way they play. I didn’t know solo adventures were a thing. The lack of a group around here and my lack of a space at home where I’d have the privacy for video to play online meant I didn’t have any actual experience with this game. It’s a lot of fun actually trying things out.
I’m so tempted to go back to a cleric next time though. A knowledge cleric this time. But. Let’s try things out before I fall immediately into a rut. Might try a rogue, get a non-spellcaster experience. Or a ranger. And I do want to try star druid at some point too.
I’m glad I found these things. I hope the fourth book comes out soon.
#d&d#5e#solo adventures#clerics vs warlocks#not really#more just musing on how differently they play#i'm having fun
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