Cauldron Convention 2025 Play Report – Part 2: Eggs of Desire

November 21, 2025 / Dread Lord / 4 Comments

The dawn arrived on Saturday, and shortly after a few bells tolled in the courtyard of Hofraithe Park. I rushed down from my room for a speedy continental breakfast and a few swigs of coffee. Gaming was due to occur shortly.

The sign-up method at Cauldron is fairly unique. Game slots are released just before they are due to start. A large queue forms at the registration table, and this year the queue took up the whole entrance foyer and hallway of the building. This sign-up method has many merits and is preferable to pre-ticketing (which is what most conventions I’ve attended use). The problems are still the same, however — some desperate attendants will camp for the registration sheets to “release”. This is only natural with any finite resource, but it can be slightly wearisome. If I were to attempt to correct this behaviour, I would have three sign-up tables, three queues, and all registration sheets dispatched simultaneously without any foreknowledge by the attendants of which games they are queuing for. I think this would dampen the camping behaviour, though not eliminate it. Regardless, I camped the line early like a desperate schmuck, and managed to get a seat at a fantastic game.

SATURDAY BLOCK 1: The Blue Mausoleum

Eight brave souls turned up for Gabor Lux’s AD&D dungeon. We picked from pre-gen PCs; I chose a 4th-level Cleric and named him Osmund. Gabor outlined the dungeon’s history: once an imperial necropolis, long fallen to ruin, treasures still buried within. I loaded up on combat spells with a touch of utility.

He gave us two treasure maps: one marked “Lair of the Carnivorous Devourer,” the other a riddle of family names and crypts. Attronarch mapped. There was no caller.

We set off and descended a pillared foyer where skeletal statues held out stony palms. GusB, our thief, dropped a few coins into one hand; the statue’s fist closed, and the coins vanished. We advance, underpaying apparently, because searing rays blasted from the statues’ eyes and frazzled us.

Below, a vast chamber opened, corridors yawning from every wall and a pit at its centre. Thirty feet down, our light caught shattered statuary. Our treasure map hinted at a “pit in the ceiling.” Gabor shrugged when asked him to clarify if this was so, so instead we trusted our gut and set about descending the pit.

Pitons hammered, ropes loose, we descended into another hall, equally vast. Exploring the maze was a joy: twisting halls, stacked chambers, stone doors at every turn, a dungeoneer’s dream.
A chamber littered with wisps of black silk appeared next. Expecting spiders, GusB crept ahead while we braced spears in the hallways behind him. Instead—a warped caterpillar-man lunged, hungry for our flesh. We offered peace; his reaction roll said no. He rushed us, met our spears, and we robbed him of life. The creature’s lair held husks of deformed men in black robes. Cultists, likely. We pressed on, knowing now our potential foe.

By now we were hitting our stride with the exploration. Whizzing through rooms and taking careful glances here and there.

One vault’s threshold lay guarded by dragon statues spouting Greek fire. Another, a sunken black-tiled room our Augury promised would bring great woe. We found a secret door into far more ancient portion of the dungeon, and Attronarch’s map began to bloom with interlocking levels.

My favourite encounter was a mad dwarf archivist hoarding “treasures” of junk. After some persuasion, he shared useful lore including directions to a cult temple (not the one from our map, we later learned) and a warning of the “black chamber of woe,” which was home to a faceless sphinx statue. Pure Lovecraft. We pushed on.

At the temple, degenerate cultists attacked. I tried to halt their retreat with Hold Person spell but one made its save and escaped for reinforcements. The hoard approached.

We withdrew into a tight corridor, bracing for the charge. A hand grenade felled many of the degenerate cultists. We surveyed our map, and intuited a potential flanking manoeuvre about to hit us. I cast Protection from Evil on Attronarch’s fighter, who made a desperate rear-guard stand and saved us. The fight was brutal, but we emerged victorious, treasure-laden and miraculously alive.

What a game. Everyone was on fire, and Gabor ran it masterfully. This is what adventure gaming should be. The dungeon’s verticality especially inspired me. Back in England, I began designing my own eight-level dungeon, full of up-and-down interconnections.

Keep an eye out for The Blue Mausoleum—it should see an E.M.D.T. release soon!

SATURDAY BLOCK 2: The Setian Vault

This time I was behind the screen, running another dungeon from my milieu. It was the second time I’ve run it at a convention (the first being Owlbear and Wizard’s Staff). This delve went quite differently from previous play-throughs—and expertly by the players.

The Party

Alex – Maelros Thum-Kelveth, Human MU 3
Bäxta – Emeric de Sablecroix, Human Paladin 3
Attronarch – Gravek, Human Ranger 3
GusB – Feyric, Human Druid 3
Misa – Wallace, Human Fighter 3

The players heard rumours: beneath Adder Hill lay a cave system and a strange statue. Local children dared each other to approach it—until a few weeks ago, when some found a glowing portal flanked by golden wands. Whispers also told of a temptress luring men to the caves, and livestock turning up mutilated.

Wallace was a crossover from a previous game at the con (one of Grutzi’s, I believe)—an unexpected but welcome addition. After selecting spells and marching order, they descended into the caves. Bäxta mapped.

Early on they met a giant snake. GusB cast Speak with Snakes, revealing a beast far more intelligent than expected, one that claimed to know how to walk on legs. Very odd. The group prodded and provoked it until it struck. Wallace was briefly constricted, but the party cut it down.

Beyond the lair they found a concealed door leading into a smooth water chute. After testing the slick tunnel, Attronarch sent his ranger down first, where faint light glowed ahead. The rest followed and entered a secret chamber holding a glowing triskelion monolith and a withered figure in a green robe seated on a bronze chest.

It didn’t register as evil—oddly enough—and rose creaking to speak. The undead being offered a bargain: within its chest lay a weapon that could destroy the Ophidian Font, a fountain said to turn men into snakes. The weapon—a reptile-slaying longsword—could end the corruption if driven into the fountain’s maw. In return, it demanded a draught of life essence from the swordsman.

I gave it my best Hannibal Lecter impression, which earned some laughs. Bäxta, as the stalwart paladin, agreed and sacrificed one life level in exchange for the blade.

They rode the water chute further down, reaching a bronze grate blocking the way. GusB cleverly used Stone Shape to loosen the frame, and with a few solid kicks it gave way. Below lay a watery tomb, sarcophagi at the base of a waterfall, glowing runes scattered across it.

Rather than disturb the grave, they pressed on. A Dancing Lights trap spell triggered a Magic Mouth. The light took the shape of a fiery man and announced via the mouth: “Dare ye come forth to accept the Geas of Flame?” The group called its bluff and entered. Inside stood a stone statue wearing a fine cloak—until they touched it. It animated, but was mercifully slow; they hid until it crumbled to dust.

Next, they found a door with an intricate locking mechanism. Being on the inside of the vault they could open the mechanism easily. The door swung in and revealed a petrified halfling—likely a thief who’d tried his luck from the other side.

Now in the dungeon proper, they pushed through tricks, traps, and ambushes. At one point snake-children—small serpent-folk that spat poison—flanked them. After several battles they finally reached the Ophidian Font. Knowing their enemy’s habits, Alex sent Dancing Lights down the corridor as bait. The snake-children charged out from a secret door, fooled by the alteration, and were quickly cut down.

Emeric advanced and drove the serpent-slaying sword into the cobra-shaped fountain’s maw. The Font exploded in a burst of light—evil vanquished.

On the way out they revisited the undead druid. Delighted with their victory, he returned twice the life essence he had taken before collapsing into dust.

A brilliant session. This crew utterly devastated the Setian Vault with precision and cunning. Though they never met the dungeon’s new mistress, they ended the power behind her reign. Down with Set!

I’ve submitted The Setian Vault to Fight On! Magazine—it should appear in one of the next issues if you’d like to run it yourself.

SATURDAY BLOCK 3: Attronarch’s Wilderlands

After dinner there was a live auction. I bought myself some nice Otherworld Miniatures but little else. All manner of treasures were being bid on, including a Collector’s Edition White Box and an absolutely massive Mystara haul. Cauldron is the place to go if you want to snag a rare slice of D&D history.

Then word began to ripple across the convention: a sign-up sheet had appeared with space for more than twenty participants. Twenty? Yes, twenty. Cauldron was about to get properly old school, because the mighty Attronarch had offered up a gigantic OD&D game. Even better, the session was going to be canonical within his long-running Wilderlands campaign, which is sitting at around 150 sessions as I write this.

As a long-time on-and-off player in Attronarch’s campaign, I was really looking forward to gaming with him again, and with the other regular players who had come to Cauldron. All of us regulars were gifted t-shirts printed with the iconic line, “Die like it’s Fucking 70’s,” which appears on his player-recruitment posters. We pulled them on and took a corner of the large three-table gaming space. This was the first time I’d rolled dice with many of these guys in person, including Attronarch, so I was genuinely excited.

This was not a regular Wilderlands session. We ended up with something like eighteen players around the table. Watching them all filter in, I wondered how on earth this was going to work. That’s a serious crowd. My question was answered almost immediately as Attronarch took centre stage and explained how he would run things. He was using only the three little brown books and the alternative combat system, and to keep things moving he would resolve combat in DEX bands instead of rolling initiative. He also asked that no one sit on his side of the enormous table. It became clear straight away that he has real experience handling large groups. He held the head of the table with total focus directed toward him. It was impressive, and soon the game began.

Several of us regulars were running our own campaign characters. I was running Gomm, an expert thief, but since thieves don’t exist in the 3LBBs I treated him as a simple fighter and cleric mash-up. The con players were given a stack of pre-gens to choose from. After that we were offered a set of rumours and adventure locations and were told quite plainly that we could do whatever we wanted. The whole session was being run like any other night in the Wilderlands. We huddled up to discuss options. With all these mid-level characters, I wanted to make a real dent in the campaign world. My proposal was to take our considerable force — complete with more wands and magic swords than any responsible group should be allowed — to raid the island citadel of Hara and slay its Barbarian Queen. In my opinion she’s real bad news and could use a dose of justice. This was not a popular option, since Theo’s character has sworn loyalty to the Queen of Hara and is technically her castellan. We voted, and the table settled on exploring the Windowless Tower, reputed home of an artefact of great power.

We set out across the map. It wasn’t shown to us, but Attronarch said he had the region memorised and could track our travel easily. After a few days trekking in the wilds we located the tower: a featureless cuboid structure sitting in a bleak gulley. I used a potion of gaseous form to descend into a nearby crag, which dropped about two hundred feet and appeared to be the only entrance into the caverns beneath the cube. We all made our way down on ropes, and chaos immediately began. We found a huge bell hanging on a chain, and while a group of players attempted to build a human and halfling pyramid to reach it, others wandered off into side chambers. Yes, the party split almost instantly. Before long we met our first threat, a massive purple worm that burst through a set of double doors and nearly swallowed several characters whole.

The energy was high and everything was moving fast. At last the real test arrived: combat with eighteen players. Attronarch read from his DEX list, asking each of us what we were doing. I chose to strike the creature. Others dove aside or attempted to flee. Then Billy announced his action: “I use my wand of fireballs.” The regulars all groaned “No!” in unison. Billy gave a grin like a naughty schoolboy. “I use the wand.” Theo muttered a curse in his direction. This was going to go badly. It did. The wand vaporised the worm and about half the player characters. The first major wipeout of the night. Laughter echoed through the hall. Fortunately, my character had been on the far side of the worm and survived.

Fresh character sheets were handed out, and the new PCs made their entrance by climbing out of the worm’s remains. A memorable debut. The explosion had attracted more purple worms; we heard them rumbling toward us. We bolted forward, and after some Scooby Doo style antics through winding tunnels we discovered a warded section of the dungeon that the worms could not enter.

Exploration resumed. Someone was mapping on a whiteboard, but I was too far away to read it; I spent the time leaning back and enjoying the unfolding carnage, and appreciating how smoothly Attronarch was managing this ridiculous crowd. There were some excellent comedic moments. My favourite was an enormous chained Iron Golem which repeated, in monotone, “I am the Iron Golem of Wishes. Step forward and make your wish.” Premier took the bait and stepped onto the dais. “I wish…” he began, before Attronarch cut him off with, “FOR DEATH.” The golem instantly smashed him into paste. Perfect.

Players wandered in and out. Anyone could sit down and run the gauntlet. The game continued for hours as we descended deeper into the complex. Another standout moment involved a giant mimic disguised as an iron spiral staircase. I nearly died there; after striking it with my sword I became stuck, and it tried to haul me in. It managed to grab Melan’s PC and began devouring him until another fireball from the wand and a timely levitate spell saved him.

As the night wore on, somewhere around one or two in the morning, I found myself struggling to concentrate and had to bow out, stumbling to my room and falling into a 1d6 turn coma (that’s a 0 hp joke.) The game continued well after I left, and I later heard more incredible tales from the hardy few who lasted until the end. Those survivors secured the EGG OF DESIRE, which has apparently been causing all sorts of trouble in the campaign ever since.

This was an amazing and genuinely unique experience. A true taste of early LBB-era play, handled with real mastery. I’ve heard rumours that Attronarch will run another massive-table game next year. It’s the sort of event you absolutely should not miss. Cauldron is one of the few conventions where games like this happen at all. The 2024 Badwall Braunstein was one of my all-time gaming highlights, and now the 2025 Wilderlands Megatable joins that list.

SATURDAY BLOCK 4: Tamoachan Rises Again!

The Attronarch game had been immense, running on until god knows when. We were sharing a room, and I recall him coming in during the sunlight hours. He must have gotten perhaps an hour of sleep before we all woke for breakfast and a bit more gaming. I think I might have raised my head from my cot and called him the D&D Terminator. In retrospect, perhaps the Iron Golem of Wishes would have been more apt. What a guy!

In the morning came the usual Cauldron awards: Best DM, Top Player, tournament winners, and Best Death. The scoring methods were explained to us, and I was awed by the Teutonic Procedure-Craft on display. KLM could learn a thing or two from the Cauldron scoring committee!

We packed up and got ready to leave the venue, but before we did, there was one last chance to game. These final sessions didn’t count toward DM points, which was a shame because I ended up playing in a belter.

I joined Elderthing’s game of C1: The Hidden Shrine of Tamoachan. Elderthing runs games in the ADDKON server, as I do, but his are exclusively in German, so I’d never had the chance to game with him before. I was excited to finally correct that.

I played Cair the Apprentice, a half-elf MU/Thief. We had our spells pre-prepared, and as the game began, we found ourselves in a hidden vault with poisonous gas swelling around our feet. Most of the group were experienced 1ers, so we quickly started using our slow poison and strength spells to buff the PCs’ skills.

Elderthing brought out his exquisitely painted 15mm miniatures, we established a marching order, and started smashing through dungeon rooms. Our goal: find breathable air before the game slot ran out—or die trying.

We did quite well. Only one of us died. We avoided unnecessary combat when possible, but we had to fight a giant slug-god and a Nereid. I took care of the slug-god with a fireball, caving in part of the chamber. The Nereid charmed me and the other male PCs, leaving the girls of the party to handle the battle.

Eventually, we reached breathable air just before the slot ended, securing the win. We probably didn’t take the optimal route, and I likely wasted a bit of time summoning a troglodyte to dig out a collapsed section, but it was all part of the fun. I don’t know if Elderthing scored us, but I’d love to find out. He was a phenomenal GM, running the game with encyclopedic knowledge of rules and spells. That’s the magic of Cauldron: everyone is tuned into the same game rules, which become like a stream we all float down together.

Elderthing has an adventure coming out in the next Fight On! issue, and I can’t wait to get my hands on it.

Old School D&D fans absolutely have to attend Cauldron OSR Con if they have any sense whatsoever. Bring on 2026!

Cauldron Convention 2025 Play Report- Part 1: Blood on the Sand (and Grass?)

October 26, 2025 / Dread Lord / 2 Comments

There came a scraping that echoed through the heart of Rosenthal — a quiet and picturesque village deep in Germany’s heartland, a town lined with half-timbered buildings and bedecked with cobblestones. The sound was metal grinding against stone, much like the battle march of an orc legion descending a mountain might sound. The British contingent had just literally crash-landed into the central courtyard of Hofraithe Park. Setting down below the eaves of an ancient gatepost, we spooled from our rental car lugging bags stuffed with forty-year-old rulebooks, dice, and lead miniature soldiers. Chris, James, Andrew, and I emerged like four riders from the desert. We surveyed the damage. The collision with a curbstone had been insignificant — merely loud — acting as a herald to our arrival. I laughed heartily, for I had come to do damage of a different kind — to pillage dungeons and kill player characters. I had come to game!

For those in the know, the Cauldron OSR Convention needs no introduction. It is the premier gaming convention for aficionados of early-TSR-era D&D. Over the course of three days we were going to set about conquering dungeons dark, deep, and dangerous — and have a bloody good time doing so.

I had only a few moments to take in the stunning surrounding architecture of the new venue before a random encounter with Attronarch in the courtyard led me to my dormitory. The rooms were small and wood-clad, somehow reminiscent of a dozen ’80s slasher movies misremembered. Exactly which cabin-in-the-woods film it reminded me of is uncertain. These bedchambers would not be dwelt in much, however, for the participants of Cauldron have approximately a 10% chance of being discovered in their lair during the convention. I dropped off my bags before gathering for beer and snacks in the dining hall.

There was a welcome speech by the magnanimous Settembrini. Then I had to dash off and prepare my first game of the convention.

Initial impressions: psionically blasted by an amazing location, awesome people, and overwhelming hype to start gaming. The night would be long — and for some, unending.

Adventure had begun.

FRIDAY BLOCK 1: THE COLISEUM OF THE LUNAR LION

I was DMing during Block One, which was a shorter three-hour session. The game I ran was lifted from my campaign world, only condensed to a single level — just enough for a one-shot I reckoned.

The concept of the adventure is that a Wizard Guild has paid the party to enter a complex to retrieve an item. The item is a scroll case stolen by one of their own rogue agents. This rebel MU escaped into the complex because it is incredibly well-guarded and usually an area of high-level adventure. However, after much research, it was discovered that the defences and traps within the complex were powered by lunar energy. And so, when a rare lunar double eclipse was due to occur, the Wizard Guild sent some expendable adventurers (ahem, the PCs) to collect the item whilst the defences were down.

This is a time-sensitive delve. I explained the nature of the scenario and the party goals to the players:

Collect the scroll case — but do not open it.
Do so within five in-game hours because…
The Moon powers some terrible defences, including an Iron Golem.
Take every bit of treasure not bolted down for yourself.

The Party

Attronarch played Gorath Zult, Human Fighter 3
Markus_cz played Wimble Hornbutton, Halfling Fighter/Thief 2/2
Niko played Osmund Vire, Human Cleric 4
Martin played Maelros Thun-Kelveth, Human MU 3
AndrewW played Zhaelor Quen, Elf MU/Thief 1/2
Theo played Emeric de Sablecroix, Human Paladin 3
Billy played Bharak Blackbraid, Dwarf Fighter 3
Sam played Gravek, Human Ranger 3

The Game

Once spells were selected, the party arranged their marching order. The characters approached the deep stairwell that led into the Coliseum. They’d arrived a little earlier than the beginning of the lunar eclipse. To make use of the time, the thieves crept down into the earth to espy the situation.

There they saw a large underground chamber with multiple tiered levels. At the centre of a sandy pit stood the Iron Golem, cast in the shape of a leonine Type VI demon. It spurted black puffs of smoke upward, and at its feet were several cultists bowed in supplication — their leader holding the reins of a warhorse.

The party hatched a plan to lure the cultists out of the area and trapped the stairs with caltrops and marbles. No luck on this plan, unfortunately. The party descended, carefully avoiding their own traps.

What took place next was a highly tactical battle. I had pre-drawn the area on my Chessex mat and we used minis with each hex representing 3.33 feet. A little different than I usually run the game, but this area was quite complex. On the battlements were archers, and hidden behind the now-inert golem was a fighter on a warhorse.

Battle began — the horse charged — but Gorath managed to slay the charging beast with his set spear before the lance could strike him. The rider fell from the saddle and was soon surrounded. Up on the crenelated battlements, arrows rained down upon the party. Fire was exchanged. The thieves stealthily climbed up to the shooters’ level and, with daggers, ended the threat.

In all, the battle took about thirty minutes and was very tense up to the last kill. These cultists proved tricky due to their unbreakable morale and higher ground. But the way into the dungeon proper had been opened. The party lit their lanterns and decided to climb the eastern battlements and enter through a vomitorium, rather than attempt the large lion-shaped double doors to the south.

The players tensed their jaws and set about tearing through this dungeon as quickly as possible. A DM loves to see it. They passed by many of the time-wasting baits I’d left them — skipping Mythos Tomes and sealed pots of slime — though they couldn’t help but interact with a helmet that had detected as evil. Inside was a Vargouille, quickly dispatched.

Soon the party found a chamber with a bowed floor, its ceiling bejewelled with a hundred moonstones. Brave Attronarch stepped forward, putting his character into the room and summarily falling twenty feet into a pool of water as the floor caved in. Down there, he was assaulted by mud men, but the party got him out quickly enough.

Onward they went, stealing gemstone eyes from statues and avoiding chain-pulling zombies. Eventually, an ethereal statue of a maiden holding a wand was discovered, draped in lush jewellery. How would they capture that treasure? Nobody knew — but they were here for a scroll case, and that’s what they were determined to do!

So onward they went into a nefarious-looking altar room. The cowled figure behind the altar looked up to reveal a skeletal face and silently pointed toward them. All but two of the party were teleported back to one of the starting rooms. The crypt thing charged the remaining characters. The teleported group rushed to their aid, but in comical fashion, Niko grappled the undead beast to hold off its attacks until the cavalry arrived.

After this, the game became increasingly chaotic as the players split into three groups to cover more ground. Real and game time were both ticking away — would they find the scroll case in time?

Eventually, one group did, after an incredibly lucky pick locks roll on a door. Inside they found the corpse of the rogue magic-user laid out on an embalming table. Unluckily, the gem in his fist contained his soul, which lashed out and possessed Billy’s character, Bharak Blackbraid.

Who said dwarves saved well against magic?

I took Billy to one side and gave him the lowdown:

“You are now SHIGAST THE SORCERER. Get that scroll case for yourself, no matter what. Oh yeah — and you have an invisible imp familiar in this room.”

It didn’t take one minute for the players to start wailing on him. Poor lad.

A few lone survivors crawled out of the Coliseum, scroll in hand. Many others had perished at the hands of shadows and imp poison. That’s the way it goes!

This was a very fun game and a great way to kick off the con — the players really kept me on my toes. Should any of my players want to join my campaign, even for a few session or two. Send me a message.

If you’re wondering why I’ve included several illustrations of the dungeon, it’s because I’ll be releasing this adventure as a Pay What You Want document on DriveThruRPG in the coming weeks (when I can find the time to properly edit the thing). All funds raised from module sales will be donated to Cauldron Con 2026! Consider this as good an endorsement of the convention as I can offer!

FRIDAY BLOCK 2: THE BATTLE OF EMRIDY MEADOWS

After some delicious home-cooked food and several beers — which, of course, all come included in the convention’s price (yes, all you can eat and drink!), I gathered at the wargaming table to partake in a recreation of the legendary battle that lies behind some of Greyhawk’s key dungeons.

I had brought along some miniatures to donate to Nexus in the 1/72 scale that Settembrini and Ghoul use for their Chainmail battles. I was so impressed with last year’s Chainmail Naval Battle that I’d offered to paint up some of my unused miniatures for them. I’d been tasked with supplying some orcs, evil horsemen of the Temple of Elemental Evil, and some medium cavalry for the Kingdom of Furyondy.

Upon hearing I was donating these miniatures, my partner was rather pleased to see me pack that mass of figures into my bag. Unfortunately for her, the convention happened to be selling cheap grab bags of miniatures for five euros a pop, so by the end of the weekend all that freed-up space was refilled and stocked with tiny lead men. (She still hasn’t learned of this shameful behaviour — they sit secreted away in a shoebox in my home office.)

Once all the players were gathered, Setti gave us a fascinating breakdown of the original lore of the battle. After researching Gary’s description of Emridy Meadows and cross-referencing it with known military history volumes from the Gygax library, they’d managed to identify a few likely historical inspirations. One of those was the Battle of Tewkesbury, and when one reads about the preemptive charges by the orcs, it does share some parallels with the Duke of Somerset’s calamitous march at that battle.

I’d encourage Setti to make a post about how he designed this recreation, as it was all very interesting — though the quantity of fine German Pils I drank that night ensures much of it is now lost to me.

There were six players, and each of us selected a division to control. I chose to take control of the evil horsemen, since I quite liked the paint job I’d done on them. I also didn’t fancy commanding the orcs, knowing full well they were going to have a bad time with morale, infighting, and going up against dwarves and elves. The horsemen didn’t have much better odds, for formed across from my vast host was a giant line of pikemen. Why didn’t I opt to control the forces of good? For the challenge!

I’ve used the rules of Chainmail enough to know that Gygax had a hard-on for Swiss pikemen (with co-morbid lusts for polearms), and they have some absolutely busted mechanics. Unless I played very carefully — and had some luck — my forces would soon be decimated upon those pikes. I was also given a secret objective that could secure me a personal victory: I had to engage Prince Thrommel in melee and then make away from him and off the board. In the event of an evil-side loss, I might still claim an individual win.

The battle began and we all started taking our turns. The evil side had a plan to begin with, but this soon fell by the wayside as we had trouble organising our lines on the right flank. I pulled my horse tight to the right and requested some screening units push forward to break up the lines of pikemen. This didn’t happen, so I had to throw my own light horse against the pike wall in a desperate attempt to stagger the line and open up an opportunity for flanking.

Evil players began dropping out a couple of turns in, as it was getting late and many of them had been traveling all day. By the end of the battle only myself and the mighty Walid stood against the forces of good. My sacrifices had paid off: as I won a second initiative round, I had broken the lines of pikemen into three separate units and rushed some horse behind them. With the sounding of a horn, my riders encircled the pikemen and crushed them to naught. The right flank of the Furyondy army, its entire detachment of pikemen, were decimated. Bring me back my legions! The printed name ‘Gygax’ on the Chainmail rulebooks before us began to miraculously run with rivulets of blood.

The before and after the final flanking.

Walid had summoned a fire elemental, and with it slew the Prince of Furyondy. History had been irrevocably changed! The Temple of Elemental Evil was victorious!

This was a great deal of fun. Settembrini did a really great job of developing and judging the battle. The game went on until after three thirty in the morning. Afterwards I staggered back to my room and collapsed in my clothes into a deep, dreamless sleep. Even the jet-engine-loud snoring inside our bedroom could not rouse me. I was content.

First day impressions: Raw Adventure Gaming Awe.

In my next post I will cover play reports for Saturday and Sunday. Fight On!

Owlbear and Wizard’s Staff Play Report Part Deux: A 1e High Level Glory Hole

October 6, 2025October 6, 2025 / Dread Lord / Leave a comment

The night was still young. Serpents had been slain. Treasures recovered. But now, it was time for an adventure of a different sort. We were about to descend into the GLORY HOLE DWARVEN MINE.

I expected puns, ponderous mapping, and possibly we would discover if Dwarven women had beards or not. (Spoiler: they do!)

The Owlbear and Wizard’s Staff Convention was in full swing. Competing with my evening slot on Friday was the famed Convention Curry Night, which had its own sign-up sheet. I remember thinking: what game would tempt a player away from the lure of vindaloo and lager?

Well… what’s spicier than a Glory Hole?

I’d picked up the Judges Guild module maybe a year earlier, cheap on eBay. If I’m honest, the title alone sold it. A quick skim revealed there were bits I’d never use. Without spoiling too much, there’s a section where PCs can find garbage cans, baseball bats, and flashlights. Artifacts from a ‘modern’ past.

Still, the core dungeon looked strong. A sprawling mega-dungeon focused on faction play, with rival groups exploring the gemstone mines outside the City State of the Invincible Overlord. That alone made it worth a spin.

I loaded up my event onto the schedule, and soon after Matthew — the organiser of OBWS, lovely bloke all around — asked if he could put a disclaimer on the game listing:

“There is no X-rated content in this game.”

Of course! The idea only added to the absurdity of the module’s name.

Lewis Pulsipher reviewed the Glory Hole in 1982:

“This was a decent idea, for the most part, but inadequately produced.”

How you butchered my boy, Lewis.

Well, I was about to find out for myself. Five players had signed up.

Game Prep

Unlike The Setian Vault, which I wrote myself and have run in my campaign, this dungeon was totally alien to me. I’d selected it before even finishing a full read-through.

I’m confident at winging things, but I sat down properly in the weeks leading up to the con to give it a full comb-through.

And there were… issues.

It’s written for the Judges Guild Universal System, which is basically D&D with the numbers filed off. No big deal at first…
Until I noticed the monsters were D&D-adjacent — but not quite. Gargoyles in the module, for instance, didn’t require magic weapons to be hit. “Ettins” were renamed multi-headed ogres and had different stats entirely. There were plenty of unique monsters.
There are tons of factions, all with plans. But the NPC stats are in one section, and the encounter text in another. Not ideal for con play with all that potential parsing.
The place is huge. Would this even work as a one-shot?
It recommends a party with a combined 50–60 character levels. That probably presumed a large table of players with mid-level PCs. I didn’t have that.

But hey — I had sign-ups, and I’m not one to back down from a challenge.

So I said: fuck it. Generated some level 10 characters from osricrpg.com, and slid up to that Glory Hole to show it who was boss. To help the players out, I pre-selected the spells for the casters. I also made notes for segment casting times and durations for each spell. I wanted to minimise looking up rules as much as possible during the game.

I decided to use the monsters as written in the module. I skimmed the NPCs, started making some faction notes, but eventually said: to hell with this, I’ll improvise.

Fast forward to Saint Patrick’s Irish Club. Friday evening. The sun is setting. Dark forebodings. I sip my Guinness. Equally dark. My eyes are dark also, though not through choice. I’m wearing my sunglasses. Why? Because a few days ago I lost my prescription glasses. This is the only way I can see.

Sunnies in a darkened hall probably had everyone thinking I was that guy who wears sunglasses in the pub. Ha! Let them.

Behind my inky black lenses, I had enhanced powers of obscurement.
Witness my ultimate poker face.

Then the players arrived at the table.

“Are you here for the Glory Hole?”

The Party Gathers

James Knight – Meomesiene, Human Cleric (10), Lawful Good
Items: Helm of Comprehending Languages, Potion of Invulnerability, +1 Small Shield
Andrew – Godanova the Spiritual, Half-Orc Fighter (10), Chaotic Evil
Items: +2 Two-Handed Sword, Potion of Growth, Scroll of Protection from Possession
Darren – Okar, Dwarven Fighter (7), Neutral
Items: Javelins of Piercing, Potion of Gaseous Form
Andy – Kurlacon the Fearless, Human Thief (10), Chaotic Neutral
Items: …Sweet Water (very useful)
— – Alin the Eldritch, Human Magic-User (10), Lawful Evil
Items: Potion of Healing ×2, Potion of Copper Dragon Control, Scroll (Wall of Force), Wand of Enemy Detection

Note: No one picked the Illusionist I’d generated. Bummer. All the magic items were generated by the website. Some characters were luckier than others.

Second Note: One player’s name is missing — he arrived late and I forgot to note it on my record sheet. If you’re reading this, drop me a line!

The character sheets for this session weren’t printed on the fancy fake Goldenrod stock. I kept them cleaner: just the stats, saves, attack matrix, damage ranges, boxes for magic items, and all their prepared spells. Still, despite best efforts, they came out cluttered — as is tradition.

Players picked their characters as they arrived, first come, first served. They also chose from my pool of Ral Partha miniatures.

“I think I had this miniature back in the day!”

As a small bonus, I let the players roll 2d6 light footmen to accompany them.

I then asked the party to select a leader. Andy — with his tenacious thief — took the mantle.

I grew solemn.

“Now, I need at least one of you to step up to be the mapper. It won’t be an easy job.”

No kidding. Mapping this mine would not be a cakewalk.
(SPOILERS BELOW!)

With gusto, Andrew stood and declared he was the man for the job. A brave soul. He had no idea what awaited him.

One last piece of upkeep:
The number of magic javelins needed to be rolled.
The MU needed to choose what type of Elemental he’d try to summon. Earth was the obvious choice.

We had a date with a Glory Hole.

The Goblinoid Massacre

The party strode into the place like Don Juan. And why wouldn’t they, for God’s sake? Look at them — levels dripping off every limb.

After some tunnels, they entered a large hall filled with empty mining crates. Up ahead, they spotted another adventuring party led by an Amazonian warrioress. The party had rolled surprise on her and so hooded their lantern. They watched. They listened. The female leader spoke — something about following a map.

The players decided to shadow them from a distance.

That continued for a bit… until a random encounter occurred (there are so many random encounters on this level — I guess that’s to simulate the crowds of parties and monsters descending into the mines).

I rolled: goblins.

Time to see what the party could do.

In a single one-minute round, the dwarf and the half-orc annihilated all twelve.
Those poor 1d6+2 HD gobbos never stood a chance. Their bodies lay brutalised across the battlemat.

A short while later — another goblin encounter.
You guessed it: more carnage. This time nine goblins. Gone. In under a minute.

“I roll five hits.”
“I roll six”
“Someone pass the man more d10s.”

These encounters caused the party to lose track of the Amazon’s trail. With no Rangers among them, they couldn’t trace her.

Four gremlins jumped out next — and died almost immediately.

The party was descending deeper. They now carried sacks of pilfered silver pieces. Alin the Eldritch hopped into a mine cart and rode down into level two.

Mutiny!

A quick jaunt through this level, it must be said.

As soon as they entered the area, they came upon an elevator shaft.

“Well, we want to go deep in this Glory Hole, don’t we?”

There was a resounding yes.

The lift worked by a set of man-powered wheels. The party demanded two of the light footmen man it and send them down. After a loyalty roll, they weren’t too happy about that. Alin the Eldritch stayed behind with them, essentially strong-arming them into the work.

The party descended in the lift and came upon a Cave Fiend — one of those new monsters. I quickly scanned the monster entry. It had good odds to surprise the party, but no luck on the dice. It sat there, squat and grey, eating two Dwarven corpses. We diced initiative. It took them two rounds to slay it.

Meanwhile, on the upper level, the two men-at-arms were whispering, readying to betray ‘ol Alin — throw him down the shaft! Alin overheard their plans and, with a quick magic missile or three, sent the men to their doom.

Unfortunately, this caused a random encounter, and bumbling into the room came a two-headed ogre who thought Alin looked like a most tasty morsel.

The wizard was snatched up, but a bit of luck with a reaction roll — the two heads started arguing over who got to take the first bite. The rest of the party below managed to race back up the shaft to save poor Alin before he became chow, killing the ogre in a couple of rounds.

Long-Legged Freaks

Torches lit. Their sacks in hand. The party returned down and explored some more. Graph paper was being thrown over to Andrew rapidly.

Through the caverns they trod. Into a huge chamber filled with more of those ore bins. There was a cave bear. That was one-shotted. The party didn’t even ask about skinning the thing. Whatever was going on!

But aha! Inside those bins awaited a nasty surprise: Black Widow Spiders. The Black Widows looked puny in the manual, so I rolled giant poisonous spiders from the MM instead. Aha! A challenge at last.

No.

The party was not surprised. Then some magical flying javelins took off. Magic missiles shot out. The fighter was smashing out three hits in round one. It was over fast. A hit or two from the spider venom was all saved.

Inside the bins was ore. There’s a mechanic for determining what kind. It was Fine Silver. The party took a bit, but it was bulky — and surely there would be better treasures ahead.

RIP Bong, Gono, Bond, Falty, Salty, Arco, and Tarco

The party carried on and soon found another lift. This one went all the way to the sixth level. They descended level by level.

On the way, they encountered their first group of dwarves. There were twenty of them, and the first six ranks fired bolts from crossbows at the party. Each firing, then dropping to a knee. That was nine shots in a round. Did the party take damage? Hardly. They charged in and slew seven of the poor bearded lads in two rounds.

The morale dice demanded the rest surrendered. After a brief back and forth, the party gave them some treasure and asked the survivors to join them deeper into the mine. On their travels, they had found a few veins of precious silver.

A few words were spoken for the fallen dwarves, who were named Bong, Gono, Bond, Falty, Salty, Arco, and Tarco.
Yes, the module names every dwarf NPC.

You wanted Dwarves, we’ll give you Dwarves!

Deeper Still

It was growing late in the day. The party had now descended all the way to the sixth level. How many times had I described forty-five degree passages and Y-shaped intersections? Undetermined.

The party had slain Cave Fiends, trolls, and a few green gargoyles.

During one particularly nasty combat against gargoyles, Alin the Eldritch had summoned a horde of troglodytes to his aid. Unfortunately, the stench from these beastmen had hampered the party’s own attacks.

But we were deeper now — in both pints of Guinness and shame. How many Glory Hole puns had we made? Never enough.

The party came upon a second Dwarf party, this time led by the exquisitely named Meathead Gilfath. This dwarf joined the expedition with gusto.

Soon the party were breaking through bricked-up corridors, sending their bearded miners ahead. These sounds almost always brought a random encounter, but these trifles were swatted away like pawns from a board.

“Let’s get through these bricked-up passages a little quicker, I have an idea. How much rubble have we excavated?”

It was time for the Elemental to be summoned.

Don’t Lose Control

The wizard Alin summoned his servant from the Plane of Elemental Earth and bound it to his will. With it, they smashed through several bricked-up chambers. The frequency of these sealed portals now led the party to believe they were on the track of a great treasure.

“Okay, you’ve moved twice with the Elemental out in front of the party. Roll a d20 ten times. Don’t roll a one.”

The players gathered their heads around the die. Alan’s player began rolling. He was nearly through them all… when that natural one appeared out of his fist. The table let out a roar.

The Elemental had turned against its master.

The 16 HD creature did more damage than anything else previously. Spiritual Hammers were thrown. Magic javelins loosed. HP was lost. The party were eventually victorious — but at some cost. Plenty of dwarves and men-at-arms were dead. Enough healing spells were used to fix up the party.

The Final Push

With that chaos behind them, the party followed a tunnel into a dark and natural cavern. There, in a high-roofed cave, they came upon the lair of the green gargoyles. The party found themselves pinioned in an archway as the creatures swooped down, ripping the dwarves to pieces.

The fighters had to step up and take the brunt. It was a punishing fight, and one particular gargoyle — bigger than the rest and wielding a magically glowing sword — caused serious pain.

In the end, the party caused the gargoyles great losses and drove them to flee up a large tube in the chamber’s ceiling, leaving behind a huge haul of gold coins — and the gargoyles’ eggs.

These were unceremoniously smashed. A shame, really. They could have made very unique pets in a campaign. Never mind. The victory was deserved.

The party packed up their coins. We had a brief calamity whilst getting back out of the dungeon. Time was running out. We counted out the moves. I rolled the encounter dice.

The party had spent twelve in-game hours in the deepest reaches of the GLORY HOLE, but they had emerged into the fresh Altanian air — richer, and alive!

The Happy Ending

As is tradition, I asked the victorious players to name their MVP. The legendary Andrew won without any contention, for he had studiously mapped the whole expedition and done a fine job.

He won himself a copy of Dray Prescot: 21 – A Fortune for Kregen. Not Appendix N, but a nice DAW yellow spined paperback regardless. Funnily enough, Andrew and Andy said they had just been discussing Kenneth Bulmer (the author). Andy has a great Moorcockian podcast where he focuses on SF and fantasy pulp fiction. I highly recommend it!

Summary

The first day of the Con had come to an end. I was truly knackered, but elated. My attempt at running a fast-paced, high-level AD&D, sword & sorcery adventure was a success. We were laughing a lot. Sheets of graph paper were flying all over the place. D8’s were dropping all over the table as the players also helped me tally up HD with all these monsters we were encountering. It was a blast!

Will I run the Glory Hole at a convention again? Probably not.

Do I recommend it as a module for your AD&D home game. With conversions and a bit of prepping, absolutely!

I recommend any DM to run a seat-of-your-pants high level adventure with minimal prep, it may raise your blood pressure, but it will invariably lead to a good time, and plenty of jokes!

Until next time, Fight on!

Owlbear & Wizard’s Staff 2025 Play Report: Part One — The Setian Vault

September 28, 2025September 28, 2025 / Dread Lord / 1 Comment

The sun beat down. Wind raced along the river at my side. In my fist was a glass of black nectar, which I dutifully quaffed, my lips a’smacking in pleasure.

Then I saw it. At the far end of the beer garden, tucked beneath a curtain of dry, brown leaves, stood a lonely glass cabinet. I pushed through the foliage and found the figure within. He was robed in emerald, crowned in gold.

Saint Patrick. Banisher of Serpents.

I laughed aloud. Moments before, I’d finished running a four-hour game of AD&D where the players had slaughtered a nest of serpents and their snake-man kin. Had the old saint lent them his blessing? Or were their level 4 characters simply too powerful for the scenario?

I didn’t have time to ponder theology or blessings. My next session was about to begin, something God’s favoured would not smile upon. I was entering a Glory Hole. I also needed another Guinness.

I was at the Owlbear and Wizard’s Staff Convention, held in the picturesque town of Royal Leamington Spa. The sun had come out to smile on me, but there would be no basking in it. I was grognarding hard, ready to dive into TTRPGs, which require little light; only imaginary torches and enough illumination to read a d20 and a character sheet.

I’d arrived that morning, carrying a GW case stuffed with rulebooks and game notes. My belly was hungering for Sword & Sorcery action-adventure. The town made a pleasant impression, but such niceties had to be ignored. The location of St. Patrick’s Irish Club, host of the convention for several years, was charming—great Gaelic atmosphere, friendly bar staff, and dangerously cheap pints of Guinness. But this was no place for comfort. I was preparing for dungeon war.

The crowds had gathered. RPG soldiers had come to crusade. A storm was a-brewing. This leaf-strewn town of Georgian beauty and green lawns was about to be dragged down into the gutter-level of Lankhmarian lowbrow imagination.

I’d enjoyed some chit-chat and met friends old and new, but in my mind I was preparing to inflict… the Setian Vault.

Session One: The Setian Vault

The Plan

The plan was simple. On Friday I would run two full sessions of AD&D, then drink beer.
Saturday, I’d lay back and enjoy a few games as a player—the kind I rarely get to try—and then drink more beer.
Sunday morning, I’d play in a single game before driving home to the South West, where a death metal gig awaited me. And, you guessed it… more beer.

Prep and Pre-Gens

For Friday afternoon’s session, I plucked a low-level dungeon from my campaign milieu: The Setian Vault.

It’s important to bring pre-gens to a convention. Never waste precious table time on character creation if you can help it. AD&D is notoriously tricky for modern players to parse during chargen. They’re used to having all the pertinent information in one place. Reasonable fools.

So, in the weeks before Owlbear and Wizard’s Staff (OBWS hereafter), I generated eight character sheets at 5,000 XP each. I aimed for a spread of single-classed humans and multi-classed demi-humans. Levels ranged from 2 to 4. I made eight in total, giving the six players some choice and a couple of spares in case someone croaked—as can happen. That’s old-school gaming for you.

I’d also painted some old lead miniatures to match each PC, mostly Ral Partha I’d picked up from eBay job lots.

The Party

Alan — Thalric Greybeard, Half-Elf Cleric/Ranger (3/2)
Darren — Bharak Blackbraid, Dwarven Fighter (3)
James Knight — Elyra Vornshade, Elf MU/Thief (2/3)
David — Verrin Lusk, Human Thief (4)
Hannah — Emeric De Sablecroix, Human Paladin (3)
Mike — Osmund Vire, Human Cleric (4)

All the players were pretty hardcore TTRPGers. A few were gents with stories of playing 1e back in the day. James is a regular in my campaign and plays tonnes of AD&D. One player had mistakenly signed up thinking it was a 5e game. I chuckled. This would be different.

The pull of AD&D at cons seems to break into three camps: nostalgia, genuine appreciation, and curiosity. I’ll lean into these aspects more next time I run an old-school game at a generalist con.

The Adventure

I informed the players that they’d heard the following rumours:

Children often play in a cave below Adder Hill. There is a dark statue within that local kids dare each other to approach. A few weeks ago, some kids reported a large gate had appeared in the wall, flanked by two golden wands.
Several cattle have been found mutilated around Adder Hill. Drained of blood.
A farmer swears he saw a host of “naked goblins” roaming the area.

The golden wands intrigued them. The players selected characters. Casters were given ten minutes to pick spells. I generally advise experienced players to run them, especially Clerics, because they must pick spells from the entire list.

Hannah (Emeric the Paladin) was elected party leader. David took on mapping duties. Miniatures hit the table. A marching order was formed.

We were off to the races.

Exploration Begins

Adder Hill received its moniker due to its resemblance to a snake’s head. Two caves are set into its stony face like eyes.

The party entered the right “eye.” Elyra scouted ahead using her infravision. She soon detected a large heat signature accompanied by hissing. She wisely withdrew.

“I guess we know why it’s called Adder Hill,” quipped a player.

They tried the other “eye.” There, they discovered a beast-headed statue holding a serpent in one hand and an inverted ankh in the other: the symbol of eternal death. The paladin detected evil radiating from it. To the south, the promised gate loomed: carved in the shape of a snake’s open maw, flanked by crude sconces bearing golden serpent-shaped wands that projected cones of light.

As I was rolling for random encounters, a player voiced concern:

“I don’t know about walking through a portal that leads god knows where. We should send something in first.”

Ah, a Tomb of Horrors veteran. A tear of joy welled in my eye. But I corrected him—by “portal” I meant an arched gate, not a shimmering teleportation field. It was a hallway, echoing with the sound of water.

They pressed on, finding a gushing font beyond. Elyra spotted a secret door to the west. Inside was a rank chamber filled with small serpentine humanoids. Combat broke out. The paladin was blinded by venom. Still, he and the dwarf carved through their enemies. A bit of treasure was found. Another secret door was discovered.

Snakes, Statues, & Strategy

This led to a hall with a rotating medusa bust at its centre. Much discussion ensued. Eyes were covered. Tactics formed.

They passed through into a large room with two conical reliquaries. Statues with gemstone eyes flanked the area.

Elyra listened at the reliquary door. The party formed up—except Alan, ever the wargamer, who recognised the potential of an enemy flanking manoeuvre, he pushed his Cleric/Ranger to guard the rear. Smart move. Two groups of serpent-folk burst from the reliquaries to encircle the party. They were soundly defeated.

The PCs pried out the gem eyes and smashed open one statue to retrieve a serpent-shaped wand that functioned like a magical torch. They headed east.

They came upon a room filled with strange urns. Issuing forth from these was the sound of a thrashing sea. Elyra had a listen at a door inside, and the crashing sounds of the waves grew louder and louder until she became utterly deaf. Luckily a spell was to hand to cure the affliction.

Mummy’s Eggs

They came upon a large hall. At its centre: a dais with glowing golden eggs. A diminutive mummy patrolled it’s surface like clockwork.

The party concocted a plan: four players would grab the eggs simultaneously. We diced. Verrin Lusk rolled poorly. The mummy bit him, and as he staggered back the mummy was dragged from the dais, and rapidly expanded to become full size. Battle erupted. The party fled.

As per old-school rules, fleeing characters can’t map. They got lost through the dark chambers, the wail of the mummy echoing after them. After wandering, they found another snake-maw portal, then a clerical office. Within the latter they smashed a statuette and found a scroll hidden inside.

Eventually, they reoriented themselves.

Deadly Detours

A giant spider appeared via random encounter but was quickly dispatched. (The ranger’s surprise negation is a real asset.)

They found the spider’s nest, torched it, and located a secret door leading to clay pots marked with wax seals. Some contained treasure. They left the skull-marked one alone. Very wise, very wise.

Finally, they entered a sloped hallway (angled at 45 degrees). Ten serpent-men were slain. Then they entered a candlelit chamber filled with maps and notes—here, they uncovered a dark plot (no spoilers).

In the next room: giant snakes. Silence was cast at the rear of the room, where a tapestry hid a door.

A Dark Mistress

Beyond the tapestry the serpents queen cast a darkness spell on the corridor. The paladin and the dwarf rushed through the magically darkened space, chasing their quarry. Behind the tapestry, they came face to face with a beautiful sorceress who immediately cast Charm Person on the paladin, bidding him to defend her.

Now we had a duel on our hands: the party leader versus the boisterous dwarf. Luckily for everyone involved, the dice were not in their favour. Many swings were whiffs.

Meanwhile, Osmund the Cleric stepped boldly through the darkness, carrying the magically silenced tapestry. He hurled it at the sorceress, interrupting her next spell and nearly knocking her flat. With the spell disrupted and her surprise lost, the remaining party members surged in and dispatched her, sending her back to her vile master in whatever abyss had spawned her.

Winners

All said and done, it was a successful expedition and a damn good time. The group gelled quickly, the session ran smooth, and the players engaged deeply with the old-school style. There were laughs, gasps, and dice hurled with intent.

As tradition, I asked the players to vote on who they thought was the MVP—the most entertaining or effective player at the table. On the count of three, they each pointed.

The winner was Hannah, who played Emeric the Paladin. Doubtless it was her tactical leadership and inspired (if slightly treacherous) roleplay in defending her newfound dark mistress that secured her victory.

She was awarded a copy of Kothar: Barbarian Swordsman by Gardner F. Fox. Pure Appendix N Sword & Sorcery. Just the kind of reward a paladin might keep hidden under their pillow.

Summary of Session One

The party navigated my traps, puzzles, and monsters with grit and cunning. I was two pints of Guinness down and feeling fantastic. In an hour’s time, I was going where no man should—the Glory Hole.

In my next post, I’ll continue this saga of one of the most fun TTRPG conventions in the UK. Let the blessings of Saint Patrick shine upon you, and never speak the names of abyssal demons aloud!

You can read another play report of mine for Grogmeet 2025 here.

Do you have any advice for running 1e games at Conventions? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below!

Until the next post, Fight On!

Dreadlord Games

The Treasure Hoard of a Moody Lord

PLAY REPORT