Manticore Encounter: Synopsis

Illustration by Silex Art Studio

Introduction

One of my favorite parts of TTRPGs is their unpredictability. While I as a GM know the general possibilities, I try to create games in which branching choices are regularly presented so that their combination can result in unique situations. Basic examples include random tables and reaction rolls, among many other strategies. Add a tablespoon of player creativity and amazing situations will emerge. In one of my previous posts, I presented a simple encounter with a couple of manticores. This is a retelling of how the encounter transpired at our table.

There will be two parts. First, I will present the story from a fictional perspective. The second is a re-telling from a GM perspective. With this I aim to show how preparing a scenario with just a few random variables can result in interesting, and often unexpected, scenarios. In addition, I aim to draw attention to how GM impartiality, or the ability to use results as unexpected as they may be, is important to the process.

The Adventurers

• Tlacuache (level 5): Drunkard dwarf tempting death at every step of the way.
• Lady Priscilla (level 5): Elf of high social status with a harpy as a soul-bound companion.
• Luken (level 3): Experienced thief; saving gold to start a cheesemaking business.
• Chad (level 4): Handsome (and now monogamous) warrior slowly turning into a dragon.
• Robbin (level 4): Foolhardy thief that once killed a vampire out of pure jealousy and a dragon out of spite. Also, in a relationship with Chad.

1. Fictional Perspective

From the personal diary of Robbin Barrelmaid:

The Climb

Our travels through the desert were arduous. During the day the sun baked us without remorse and at night the cold gripped us to the bone. Finding food proved difficult, not only from the scarcity of the environment, but also due to the weather. During winter, plants slow their growth, and many animals remain sheltered. We had no choice but to forego exploration and foraging and beeline to the stone pillars where we were to find the manticores of which Mortimer spoke.

Between boulders, prickly bushes, and beige dunes stood a group of tall sandstone pillars. The tallest one had to be around 250 feet tall, while those around it were of varying heights. Tlacuache scanned the pillars using a spyglass.

“I see a nest atop the highest pillar. In it, a single manticore, grooming itself; the one with both its wings.” Reported Tlacuache, “I cannot see the second one, the one missing half a wing.”

“I would rather fight the injured one,” proclaimed Luken.

“And I would rather fight one rather than two. We should strike now!” responded Chad as he sharpened his sword.

We agreed to seize the opportunity to fight only one manticore. In preparation, Lady Priscilla conjured a net-like web. These webs have been useful in restraining enemies in the past. Once, for example, Tlacuache restrained a young dragon with one. Of course, we tried to give it to him, the best thrower of the group, but he could not carry any more gear, so we handed it off to Luken, who proclaimed to have great accuracy.

We approached the pillars as inconspicuously as possible and prepared ourselves for a long, multi-part climb. Our best climbers, Luken and Lady Priscilla, were to lead and set up gear for us to follow. Lady Priscilla used her magic to give herself the ability to climb like a spider. She could even climb downwards, which was a little weird, but magic is like that. Luken on the other hand is an experienced climber. Without much trouble they made it up to a ledge about 50 feet high. There, they set up an anchor and rope.

Even with the rope, the climb was difficult. Pulling ourselves along with our gear tired out the arms and our boots would often slip on smooth or crumbling rock. Tlacuache struggled the most. Not only is he the heaviest at over 300 lbs. but was also hauling gear. On top of that, he was climbing in leather sandals! His feet would often slip forcing him to grasp the rope and pull with all of his strength. Sometimes, the rock would crumble under his weight and his body would slam against the wall. By the midway point, Tlacuache had seriously blistered hands, his sandals were falling apart, and he was visibly exhausted.

From thereon, the heat and wind picked up. Sand would get in the eyes; hands were sweating profusely; the rock was burning hot; and it was difficult to catch a breath in the hot air. We rested often but tried to push as quickly as possible lest we got cornered by the manticores mid-climb. Tlacuache went last on every pitch to afford him as much rest as possible, but eventually this was not enough. As he pulled onto a foothold, the rock dislodged under his weight, and he lost his feet. He held onto the rope with all his might, but as his body crashed against the wall he went sliding down. The rope was painted crimson by the blood of his hands as the friction tore them to pieces. With this, his grip failed, and he plummeted hundreds of feet. Death had finally claimed that soul that had eluded It many times before.

Tlacuache had been a magnificent companion. Since our first delve into a dangerous crypt, Tlacuache had showed no fear of death. He lived for the thrill of adventuring and for the joy of hauling gold. After every successful expedition, he was the first to start the revelry, buying round after round of ale, and paying handsomely for music and food. He will be greatly missed.

The risks of adventuring are clear to all. Not all survive every expedition, but those that do must continue. If not for themselves, to honor their fallen companions.

The Manticore

Near the top, the wind was blowing strongly, muffling our movement enough that we managed to peek over the ledge. The floor was littered with bones. Some clearly of animals, like camels and large rodents, but others clearly of humanoids. In the middle of it all was the manticore in its nest. It was as large as an ox, with giant eagle-like wings and a barbed tail. It alone was imposing; I do not want to image what fighting two at the same time would be like.

Luken, one of our best climbers, anchored himself to the wall with a rope and traversed the ledge to try to approach the manticore from behind. Then we all sprang to action.

Priscilla opened with magic while we charged. She commanded her harpy to enchant the beast, but the beast was unaffected. With shaking hands, she attempted to cast a commanding spell on the beast, but her nerves failed her. As a final resort, she conjured faded images of herself to attempt to confuse the beast. At the same time Chad and I fired a series of arrows. Immediately, the beast twisted its face in anger and, with a mighty roar, clearly showed its intent to kill us all.

The manticore took flight, circled the pillar, and turned its tail towards us. The barbs retracted for a second and then shot out at great speed. It was incredible and frightening at the same time! Fortunately, Priscilla’s magical images were targeted. This attempt cost the manticore greatly for it left itself open to Luken, who had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Luken, tethered by a rope to the wall, took a running start and jumped off of the pillar! He swung in an arc and got up in the sky close to the manticore. There, he threw the magical web at the beast. Luken showed his great accuracy for he trapped the beast perfectly to incapacitate its flight. The beast fell, fast; it struggled and clawed at the web attempting to free itself, but all in vain. Within seconds, we heard it hit the ground and a cloud of dust puffed up. The manticore was dead, its pulpy remains lying next to Tlacuache. We were victorious!

2. GM’s Perspective

This was a very interesting scenario because a series of dice results and decisions converged to create a unique and interesting outcome.

First, I rolled checks to see if the manticores were either nesting or out hunting. The healthy manticore had a 50% chance (3-in-6) of being out hunting, but the dice decided it was at the nest. The injured manticore had an ~17% chance of being out hunting (1-in-6), and the dice decided that it was. This was surely not my expectation, but the rolls created a unique challenge that I probably would not have designed purposefully. With this, it could have gone in a variety of ways: deal with this one, wait for the other one, look for the other one, try to take on both, lure one or the other, etc. The party decided to attack the one in the nest while it was alone.

While preparing for the climb, Lady Priscilla cast her Spider Web spell. One of her attempts produced a net that could be rolled up, carried, and thrown. The other attempts did not produce anything useful until the spell failed. The net was originally intended to be given to Tlacuache, for he had previously proven to be a good thrower, but he was carrying too much gear (encumbrance rules) and passed it on to Luken.

Climbing the towers was an interesting, but simple, challenge. Overall, they did well, but Tlacuache had a couple of failures. On the first one, he was lucky (Luck check) to have landed on a ledge, but on his immediate next attempt he fell to his death. With a 5-point penalty to his death check, the time had come. The player quickly grabbed a back-up character (Robbin), and we continued the game. It is interesting to note here that had Tlacuache carried the web, it would have been probably lost for the encounter, but luckily Luken was carrying it.

At the top, the party spent a bit discussing their strategy. Luken wanted to climb around to attempt to sneak from behind. I pointed out that there were no ledges on that side of the pillar, so any falls were potentially large. Just in case, he decided to jam a piece of gear and tether himself to it with his rope. Again, an unplanned but critical decision for later being able to swing towards the flying manticore.

In action, the party went first. Magical attempts to control the beast: Charm, by the harpy, and Binding, by Lady Priscilla, failed. With a Will of 16, it easily rolled under and saved against the charm. The binding spell was simply not strong enough to bind this creature (up to 4HD; the manticore had 6 HD). Strategically, its reaction was to take flight away from the pillar so that the party could not easily reach it. This meant that it was flying above a 250-foot fall. Combat-wise, this was advantageous since the manticore can shoot spikes or swoop down and quickly get back in the air. However, this strategy caused its premature end.

Since the manticore was out of reach, Luken decided to swing on the rope to get a closer attack against the manticore. He threw the web: his only chance with it and he hit! The manticore was enveloped in the web impairing the use of its wings and began falling. I ruled that it would have one chance to get out before hitting the ground. While the spell specifies a DC, we do not use DCs, so we determined an appropriate roll-under target number. I suggested 8, the players suggested 6. We went with 6. The manticore failed by 1 point and fell 250 feet, taking 87 damage and dying on impact!

Many little things had to happen for this exact scenario to occur. First, the unlikely probability that only the flying manticore was at the nest. Next, giving the web to Luken, setting up the rope for the swing, forcing the manticore to take flight, catching it on the web, and it failing its attempt to escape the web. Only a few basic points of the scenario were planned, the rest was either randomly determined or simply an organic response based on character actions.

It may be tempting to force an outcome at times, but I have learned that letting outcomes develop organically is also very fun (more, in my opinion) and usually (much) simpler. For example, it may be tempting for a GM to somehow ensure the manticore saves against the web so that the fight will happen. After all, I spent hours coming up with the encounter, so why wouldn’t I want to see it transpire? Well, I have no attachment to these creations. They are simply challenges for the players to tackle. In fact, I attempt to design them in ways that encourage creative solutions: I want the players to surprise me, to make use of their wits more than their sheets. In this case, the players fought cleverly and, with a pinch of luck, earned an easy win. Had I forced a battle, I would have deprived myself and my players of an awesome outcome. Reasons like this, among others, is why I aim to GM as impartially as possible. I roll everything in the open, do not use a screen, and simply try to emulate the world as it would be if it were real.