Humans as the Dragon Slayer Race

What Do Humans Do?

Humans in RPGs are a tricky creature, which is ironic, because everyone reading this IS a human.

Humans, at least in the context of being a race option in D&D and its variants, are thought of as the "adaptive" race. They can be more classes than any other race. They're the race that is the most common and prolific in the world. Their language is known as "Common" or "Trade Tongue", or anything to denote that it's the assumed default language spoken in the setting.

But there's something else very interesting about humans specifically in fantasy settings.

They're the ones who kill dragons.

Knight Fighting Dragon - stock image

This is not a new concept by any stretch. Slaying dragons goes back to the myths of St. George, Siegfried and even Hercules if you consider the Hydra to be its own kind of dragon. Before you say that these stories don't count because elves, dwarves and halflings did not exist in the public concept of a heroic figure at the time, allow me to direct your attention to the biggest inspiration for D&D as it was in the era of Gygax and Arneson: Lord of the Rings.

Smaug is probably the most well-known of the named dragons in Tolkien's work. Bard the Boatswain, a human, slew him with an arrow. Ancalagon the Black, who is a lesser-known dragon in the same lore, is stated to be the largest, and greatest dragon to ever live. He was in fact "as tall as a mountain" and yet, it was Eärendil, a human, who managed to kill him.

Okay, Eärendil is part elf, but I'll leave the precise genealogy of Numenorians to true Tolkien lore experts.

Why Do Humans Do this?

Regardless of how your favorite setting presents each individual race, there is something about humans in addition the traits you already ascribe to them to make them distinct from other races in the respect of fighting dragons. I have an example explanation for this.

Why do dragons hide in caves and hoard their treasure for centuries? Because there are way too many humans in the world now, and they simply can't take the risk. There used to be a lot more dragons, and a lot more magic in the world. The dragons were top of the food chain, and thus had every reason to lord it over others and take their treasure... but then?

Then humans came and built cities out in the open. Not in the deep forest like the elves, and not in deep, dark caves like the dwarves. Humans built walls and ramparts that can easily be flown over. This will be easy, thought the dragons! We can take their valuables without even trying!

But that's when the concern started. No matter how many humans the dragons killed, more would take their place. It was almost like they just couldn't kill enough of them. They reproduced so quickly that a creature who lives for thousands of years, such as a dragon, might blink and miss the fact that a hundred humans just turned into a thousand when they weren't looking.

Even worse, the more humans the dragons killed, the better and better the humans got at surviving it. The dragons were able to accrue massive amounts of treasure from human civilizations they plundered, but it became more difficult to do so over an alarmingly short period of time.

When the humans decided to challenge the dragons, they struck like a bolt of lightning. Humans, unlike elves, halflings, gnomes dwarves, have limitless potential despite their short lifespans. If they dedicate themselves to the destruction of something, they'll do it, and dragons simply pushed them too far.

The dragons learned that it's safer to disappear into "myth" for a few centuries, and only raiding human settlements when everyone who was alive for the previous raid had died of old age. The last thing they want to do is attack humans who are expecting them.

How Do Humans Do this in a Game?

This not to say humans are the only ones who CAN slay dragons, but they should certainly be the best at it of all prolific humanoid races. There are ways of reflecting this.

In the 2eAD&D box set Council of Wyrms, there is a kit that fighters can adopt if they meet certain strict ability score requirements. The kit is called the "Dragonslayer," and only humans can become one. They have many powers and abilities, but suffice it to say all of them are focused on killing dragons.

But if you want a more universal way of reflecting this racial trait humans have, I have a few recommendations:

• +2 to their saving throw versus a dragon's breath weapon
• +1 to their attack bonus against dragons (like a dwarf's bonus against goblins/orcs/hobgoblins in 2e)
• improve AC by 2 when attacked by a dragon
• the ability to enchant a weapon with "dragonslaying" in the case of mage

Use all, a few, or one of these in your game, and you'll position humanity as the eternal enemy of dragonkind. It would add some flavor to humanity if you feel they are somewhat bland in your setting.

Adventures: Replaying Modules

The Problem with Most Adventure Modules

Adventure modules are the bread-and-butter of any campaign setting. Nearly every campaign setting has at least one example adventure module at the back of the book. Some of these can be inserted into any campaign, but most of them are very specific in their content and often just have superficial randomness applied unless the GM wishes to deliberately do something different.

In this sense, they are modules you can only play once if it's played as written. The GM can always "homebrew" their own version of the module or just change up one thing, but this defeats the point of a module: that most if not all the creativity has been done for you.

Even worse, if a player has already read or played the module before, the GM is forced to either not use that module or change just enough about the existing one to trip up someone with advanced knowledge of it. The Tomb of Horrors isn't very fun if a character sidesteps all of Acererak's tricks using foreknowledge!

While there's nothing wrong with standard pre-set modules, they lack in one department: Replayability.

What Can be Done Differently?

"Scenic Dunnsmouth" is an adventure module written for the Lamentations of the Flame Princess system, written by Zzarchov Kowalski. The adventure is for a party of level 2-4 characters and is about a swamp town infected by the influence of a malignant species of spider. It also involves a time cube, but that's beside the point. The player characters are tasked with investigating what happened to the town, and if they wish, saving it from the "Spider Cult" and navigating other harrowing situations.

But here's the thing: Every time this adventure is played, it will be different. The NPCs are randomly generated with a deck of playing cards. Dice are rolled to determine the placement of each house in the swamp, the behaviors of certain NPCs, and even the level at which the town is infected by the spider. It's also possible that no one in town has been infected, or everyone!

A GM can play this adventure as many times as he or she wants, and most importantly, the act of generating a new Dunnsmouth is a lot of fun!

A Module Idea!

Let's take this concept of a town in peril and extend it to another one. Let's assume instead of a swamp town, perhaps there's a mountain town. Instead of a xenophobic bunch of swamp folk, perhaps there are hospitable but frightful people.

Instead of an aggressively reproductive mutant spider... perhaps there's a werewolf.

By chrisscalf

The core variable of the adventure would revolve around one roll of the dice by the GM when generating the town: The die that determines which of the NPCs is the werewolf.

This factor would contribute the most to the adventure's replay value, and would change the behavior of all NPCs depending on who the werewolf is that time around. Naturally, as a monster, the werewolf will attack people- sometimes the players. The victim has three possible outcomes from the attack: They are simply wounded, they are dead, or they are infected by the baleful curse themselves. This can be decided in combat, or if it happens "offscreen," by a die roll.

It doesn't even matter if the adventure is quick and easy, or long and grueling. The point is that the players don't know what to expect.

In order to have a good mystery in an adventure module, GMs must either be absolutely certain that no player at their table has read the module, or that it doesn't matter even if they had. I lean more towards the latter case.

Roll Tables: Random Magic Swords +1

d10 Roll	Name	Effect
1	Soul Shredder	Looks like a powerful, evil weapon. The blade glows red with an aura of constant black flame with a black hilt, but this is all just a facade. It's convincing enough to force enemies to make a morale check when you draw it or flee for 1d4 rounds or until they realize the sword is not actually powerful. Bardic knowledge will repeat a rumor that Soul Shredder is one of the most powerful swords in the world, but this is a lie deliberately spread by the creator.
2	Ironwood	Forged in an elven style, the blade itself looks as though it were first carved from wood and then magically petrified into metal. This is due to the wood grain pattern upon the blade. Striking a wooden object (not living) has the same effect as a Warp Wood spell upon it. 3 charges, and can be replenished by leaving it impaled in a living tree for 1 turn per charge.
3	Treasure Hound	Very ornate and expensive-looking. It has a gold-plated hilt and a pommel inset with a bright violet gem. This sword will gently vibrate when within 20 yards of a portable object worth 1000 gp or more unknown to the wielder. It will not  detect a collection of coins or gems unless a single one meets the 1000 gp threshold. If your campaign uses the silver system, then have it detect objects worth 1000 silver or more.
4	Riposte	This sword contains the soul of a man who died defending his honor in a duel. It confers a +2 to the weilder's armor class when attacked by an opponent also using a sword. The sword also speaks, and will encourage you to challenge any who disrespects you to a duel, but you need not listen.
5	Broken Holy Avenger	A sword broken halfway up the blade. It confers a -1 to hit, but keeps its +1 to damage. In the hands of a paladin, it becomes a +2 weapon in all respects and glows with a holy light. The sword deals 5 additional damage against demons. It may be possible to re-forge it into a true Holy Avenger +5.
6	Lumos	Glows brightly as if from a Continual Light spell. If thrust into magical darkness, the darkness is dispelled. It does not negatively affect light-sensitive creatures like drow, but they may find the light annoying enough to attack you first.
7	Moon Silver	The blade is polished to a mirror sheen, and looks paler than steel. If a person with lycanthropy looks upon the sword's blade, they will transform into their were-form as though having looked upon a full moon. The sword also deals 3 additional damage against lycanthropes. You'll need it.
8	Finsplitter	With a transparent blade, this sword appears partially invisible when immersed in water. It cuts through water just as easily as if swung through air. There is no penalty for attacking underwater or when swimming using this sword.
9	Gust Maker	Swiping this unassuming sword within 10 yards of a flame no larger than a torch will extinguish it. This may be done as many as three times per round, but only once if an attack is also being made.
10	Dragon's Claw	This is indeed made from the claw of a dragon, but the dragon itself must not have had very sharp claws. It is still a serviceable magic weapon, though dragons might make fun of you if they see you with it.

Playing the Part: Fighters

I'll just avoid telling you what you already know about the role of each of the four "base" classes, the Fighter, the Mage, the Thief, and the Cleric in a dungeon-delving environment. There are other blogs for that.

You know what they're good and bad at when hunting monsters and bagging gold, but how they relate to the wider society of a medieval fantasy campaign world is not quite as clear. In this "Playing the Part" series, I will describe what I believe each class's role is when talking to NPCs.

I propose here that it's not always the person with the highest charisma who should do the talking.

Naturally, I will begin with the class most likely to spark debate (or just anger) over this subject.

by Filip Štorch

The Fighter, the Warrior, the Fighting-Man as they were known in Original Dungeons and Dragons (OD&D). This is the class you play when you want to, yes, Fight.

They deal damage and take damage better than any other class, but that is by no means what they always do. If they used to be a rank and file soldier, they would know about siege weapons, horseback riding, and militia tactics. If they used to be a sailor, they would know about weather, rope work, and navigation.

Talking to the nobility and landed elites is also something fighters should be better at than other base classes.

Hear me out on this one.

When you make a fighter at level 1, what do you envision he or she is like? A scowling brute with a sword? A plucky young swashbuckler with dashing good looks? A wise and jaded mercenary? These are some standard personality sandwiches for a low-level fighter.

What you do not usually envision is a knight in shining plate armor on a steed. Why? Because plate armor and a horse are really expensive, and you're just a lowborn thug for hire, right?

You are, but not permanently.

In OD&D, each level corresponds to a set title. At level 1, a fighting-man is not called that, but rather a "veteran". At level 2 they are called a "warrior", at level 3 a "swordsman" and so on. At level 9 and all levels thereafter, they are called a Lord.

by WL OP

This is significant when you take a look at how other classes refer to their own "name levels." In OD&D and 1st edition AD&D, a mage or "magic-user" isn't called a "Wizard" until level 11, for example. Likewise in 1eAD&D, a "thief" is not called a thief until level 9.

But a Fighter is never actually given the title "fighter". When they achieve their name level, they are a Lord. The reason for that is, the more power a fighter obtains, the more the nobility comes to see him or her as "one of them." It could also be due to the fighter getting a small loyal army practically for free, and the other nobles don't want to start antagonizing them.

A fighter's default aspiration is to become a Lord, with all the advantages that come with such a title. When they gain land and influence, the local nobility will no longer think them a filthy, unwashed peasant undeserving of even a passing glance. They may even consider a new, upstart lord important enough to plot their downfall.

Welcome to the world of politics!

Let's not kid ourselves. A medieval fantasy setting is almost nothing like a historical medieval society. Campaigns are commonly set in worlds where you are not locked into soul-crushing serfdom and have enough freedom to go out and adventure. For this reason, even a lowly grunt can eventually gain enough skill, power, and respect to become a noble in their own right, social spheres be damned. Magic and monsters might have something to do with it too.

But how to reflect the fighter's advantage in an actual game?

Simply, when a fighter reaches name level, treat their charisma score as 2 points higher when interacting with the nobility up to the limit of 18.

Don't like this rule? Don't include it. I however would include this in a game I run, because it's important to understand that a fighter's role extends beyond the scope of combat.

This is a Blog About Oldschool Tabletop Roleplaying Games

See the title. Do I need to say anything else as an introduction? Probably not. However, I'm sure some specifics are in order.

If you're here, you may already know what a tabletop roleplaying game is, but I'll give you the skinny just in case you don't: You and (ideally) two or more people get together and tell a story. Simple enough? Great, but there are rules (whole systems of rules in fact), and these are what people will debate about the most.

When I say "Oldschool Tabletop Roleplaying," I'm not just referring to historic pencil and paper systems like the first Dungeons & Dragons game published in 1974. All of Gygax's and Arneson's early tabletop RPGs do fit the description, but others have made "new oldschool" games by taking heavy inspiration from the style and substance of what made early tabletop games distinct from more modern systems such as Pathfinder or 5th edition D&D.

We will call this "new oldschool" kind of tabletop game an "OldSchool Renaissance" or "OSR" game, since everyone else seems to be calling it that these days. It encompasses all TSR-era related content, so that's fine for our purposes here.

If I help grow the number of people interested in OSR, or kindle the existing passion among OSR enthusiasts, I will consider my efforts worthwhile. If I think a discussing a topic would be interesting or helpful, I'll post it on Random Magic Sword.

I'll try to give what's presented here substance and value to people who are tabletop gaming enthusiasts, like roll tables, suggestions for new mechanics, setting ideas, or even reviews. If there's a niche in the hobby to be filled, I'll give it my best shot.

Every post will have a central theme to it that is, to me, worth exploring in more depth or improving upon. I'll give each of these themes attention, and provide methods for using them in a game you might DM one day.

Remember: The goal of tabletop games is to have fun, not to "win."