After sharing my house rules to make D&D combat a bit more interesting last week, I got a request for a written play example. I also got a few questions about things that weren't addressed or clear in the original post. I'll address those first, and then move on to a short play example.
As I mentioned last week, this is basically a simplified version of the Palladium/Rifts combat system. While it won't fit everyone's play style, the overall effect has been to make combat a little grittier without adding much more book keeping. My current players love it, and I'll probably end up using some variation of it for the foreseeable future.
First, the miscellanea:
1. Damage causing spells like magic missile completely bypass armor and affect hit points. This makes wizards much more dangerous at low levels. The tactical effect is that they become priority targets for any intelligent enemy with a ranged attack. When fighting smart opponents, it's a fairly even trade off.
2. Spell casters are not expressly forbidden from wearing heavy armor, but it does restrict their movement and affect casting. I allow for casters to wear leather type armor with no effect. Chain and heavier armor reduces casting to once every other round.
3. Defense rolls are just a d20 plus Dex bonus, and attack rolls are made with d20 plus STR plus Base Attack Bonus (or proficiency, if used). As the characters level, the attack roll totals will gradually supersede the defense roll totals. This is a feature, not a bug. The best defense is a strong and aggressive offense. Experienced characters (especially warriors) know and have internalized this.
4. Combats featuring singular monsters versus PCs with gangs of henchmen generally favor the PCs and henchmen. Again, this is by design. In a world with dragons, giants, and ogres, a human settlement's only possible defense is to find these monsters and attack in force. Think of the villagers with torches and pitchforks storming Dracula's castle in the old movies. Smart monsters have to use the same tactics humans do in order to survive: defensible lairs in difficult-to-access places, traps, and escape routes. If the PCs manage to surprise a giant in the middle of a field, and surround him with twenty henchmen, then they've either executed a brilliant ambush or found an incredibly stupid giant.
5. Most monsters don't have DEX ratings, so I assign a Defense modifier based on their Hit Dice, just like I do for attacks. A good rule of thumb is that the Defense bonus shouldn't exceed +3 for most "normal" creatures, since that's about the top range possible for the PCs. Certain "elite" monsters and supernatural creatures, like vampires, demons, or dragons, can have higher defense bonuses, but it's rare.
6. Creatures with claw/claw/bite get three total actions per round, rather than getting a seperate attack and defense action for each. This has the effect of nerfing them slightly, but they still get one more possible combat action per round than a PC does. Again, this enforces the "strength in numbers, fight smart or die" ethos of the system. A sabretooth tiger versus a single mid-level warrior is probably going to kill him. That same sabretooth tiger versus a gang of six zero-level villagers, on the other hand, had better run away.
7. Defense rolls are only possible on attacks from the front, or attacks the character is otherwise aware of. Furthermore, any attack that occurs from behind gets an additional +4 to hit, which also translates to a greater chance to bypass armor. Short version, a surrounded character or monster is probably going to die unless they can find some way to escape.
8. Henchmen and mooks. To reduce my own book keeping for peon characters, I usually just bump up a mook monster's hit points if they're wearing armor. Instead of tracking the extra 30 Armor Points for a goblin, I just rule that it's a ratty old thing that only offers partial protection and give him 15 extra HP. I also use a natural 20/critical hit rule. Against "elite" or boss monsters it's an extra damage die, but against mooks I rule that it's an instant kill. The flip side, of course, is that any natural 20 I roll can insta-kill a PCs henchman.
9. Spell casters can still only cast one spell per round. They're still entitled to use their second action as either defense or as an attack, but they cannot cast a second spell with it.
So with all that in mind, plus the basics detailed in my last post, here's a brief skirmish using these house-rules.
Example of D&D Active Combat:
Brogar the Barbarian and Mingol the Mage have been hired to destroy a werewolf pack that's been terrorizing the area. With the aid of four experienced wolf hunters, they've located the werewolf den in a small hillside cave. The original plan, which involved building a fire in the cave's mouth to smoke them out and killing them with silver weapons, can't be followed anymore because of fears that a missing village girl is inside the den.
With the girl's safety becoming the character's primary concern, the players settle on a hard, fast frontal assault as the best remaining option. Brogar takes point, directing two wolf hunters to get on each side of him, forming a wedge. Mingol hangs back, protected by the wedge and ready to give ranged support.
Partway into the den, the characters hear a savage snarl. Two of the werewolf cubs come bounding up out of the darkness. The DM instructs everyone to roll a d6 for initiative.
Brogar rolls a 4. His DEX bonus of +2 brings it up to a 6.
The four wolf hunters (henchmen characters) get a 3.
The two werewolf cubs (mook monsters, but tough ones) roll a 5.
An adult female werewolf (waiting around the bend in the tunnel and unseen at the moment) rolls a 4
Mingol rolls a natural 6.
Mingol, having won the initiative roll, has the option to go first. Instead, he declares that he's holding action.
Brogar goes next. He swings his axe at one of the incoming cubs, using one of his combat actions. He rolls a 10, but his +2 Strength bonus and his +4 Base Attack Bonus bring the total to 16.
At the same instant, the werewolf cub rolls a defense. Even at 3 HD, a +1 bonus to his roll seems fair. The cub rolls a 7, which barely totals half of Brogar's attack roll after adding the +1. Brogar's attack is successful. He rolls a 7 for damage.
The adult female werewolf holds her action, choosing to remain hidden.
The werewolf cubs go next. The first one to strike is the injured one, and it attacks Brogar. It rolls a 12, which becomes a 13 once the +1 attack bonus is added.
At the same time, Brogar makes a defensive roll, burning up his remaining combat action for the round. He rolls a 10, which becomes a 12 when his +2 DEX bonus is added. The werewolf cub's attack is successful, but not good enough to bypass Brogar's armor class of 14. The werewolf's claws rake down his leather armor for 8 points of armor damage.
The second werewolf attacks the wolf hunter immediately to Brogar's right.. The wolf hunter burns one action to defend, but the werewolf cub rolls a natural 20. The cub pounces on the hunter, riding him to the ground and sinking his fangs into the man's throat, killing him instantly.
Mingol states that he would like to use his action now. He casts magic missile, sending two projectiles directly at the werewolf that's down on top of the dead hunter. They total eleven points of damage to the monster's HP.
The three remaining wolf hunters go now. The one to the right of his dead comrade turns and stabs at the injured werewolf cub's unprotected back. He only rolls a 4, but with the +4 bonus he gets from attacking from behind, he scores an 8. His sword deals 6 damage, reducing the cub's already depleted HP to 0 and killing it.
The two hunters to the left of Brogar move to encircle the cub to his front. Having burned both of its actions already, the cub gets no defensive actions against the hunters. Both hunters roll above a 5, and their combined attacks deal a total of 10 damage.
Since the cub has used all his actions for the round, and the hunters each have unexpended actions, both opt to spend their second action on another attack rather than defending. They both roll again. The first hunter rolls a 2, missing entirely. The second rolls a 12, delivering the fatal blow with 6 points of damage.
No sooner does the werewolf cub fall than a booming roar fills the tunnel. The enraged female werewolf charges from her hiding place at the nearest wolf hunter, rolling a 13. As a 6 HD monster, she gets an additional +6 to hit, bringing her total to 19.
Having expended both combat actions to finish the cub, the wolf hunter gets no attempt to protect himself. The werewolf rolls 1d8+2 for damage, totaling 9 as her claws rip into the startled hunter. The werewolf burns her second action delivering another claw strike to the hunter, again delivering 9 points of damage. This reduces the hunter's HP to 0, killing him.
The adult werewolf, as a monster traditionally assigned a bite/bite/claw attack, gets a third action. She spends it by launching herself at Brogar. She rolls a 16 for her bite attack, totaling 22 with her +6 to hit. Brogar, also having expended his available actions for the round, gets no defense beyond his armor. The 22 easily beats his armor class of 14, and the werewolf sinks its fangs into the upper flesh of his arm for four points of damage. Borgar successfully saves vs poison, avoiding being infected by lycanthropy.
The round is now over, and round two begins with Mingol's action.
Mingol chooses not to hold his action this round. He casts a protection spell on Brogar, granting him a +2 bonus to his AC, his saving throws, and his defensive rolls.
Brogar goes next. He spends one action attacking the werewolf. He rolls a 16, which his +2 STR bonus and his +4 Attack Bonus bring up to a 20.
The werewolf spends one of her actions defending, rolling at the same time. She rolls a 7, which her +3 Defense bonus only brings up to a 10. Brogar buries his silver axe in her hide for 6 damage.
The werewolf—who rolled a 4 back when initiative was called--goes next. She rolls a 9, which her attack bonus brings up to a 15.
Brogar expends his remaining action rolling a defense. He rolls a 10, which becomes a 14 when his DEX bonus and extra bonus for the protection spell are added. The werewolf's attack succeeds, but since the protection spell also grants him a +2 to AC, her claws only strike his armor, dealing 8 points of armor damage.
The two remaining hunters go next. They roll a morale check. One fails and flees back toward the tunnel entrance. The other succeeds and moves to attack the werewolf. He rolls a 17.
The werewolf—who, again, is entitled to three actions as opposed to most characters' two—uses her remaining action to defend. She rolls a natural 20, neatly dodging and earning an attack of opportunity. She rolls an 18, which her bonuses bring to a 24. She also maxes the damage roll, delivering 10 points of damage to the hunter and reducing his HP by more than half.
The round is now over. Round three begins, with initiative once again passing to Mingol.
Again, this is actually far less complicated in play than it looks on paper. As long as the DM has a handle on it and can guide the players along, it runs pretty smoothly. Some players and DMs may feel like it's too crunchy or adds too much book keeping to combat, but that hasn't been my experience. For my table, it strikes a good balance between grit and abstract, hitting the sweet spot that all the players seem to appreciate. They're having, fun, they're engaged, and they're always looking forward to combat encounters now.
As a DM, what more could I ask for?
About three or four sessions into my current campaign, I noticed that my players didn't really like the abstract nature of D&D combat. No matter how much narration and dramatizing I did, combat just felt too passive to them. Specifically, they wanted to do something besides stand there and take it while the enemy rolled against their AC.
Now, one thing I'll say in favor of D&D combat RAW. It's streamlined. And if the players are happy enough to fill in the blanks by imagining feints, dodges, and other maneuvers happening in between declared actions and combat rolls, then it's fine.
On the other hand, way back when I was a wee player, I had the same reaction. I kept trying to declare dodge or parry on the enemy's turn, and it took a little while for me to get comfortable with everyone rolling against a static number to simulate combat.
Which is probably why I gravitated to Kevin Siembieda's Palladium System games so strongly. Divisive as hell within the RPG community, absurdly crunchy, and badly imbalanced even by early 80's game design standards, the Palladium games nonetheless had a gonzo weirdness to them that I loved. Even though I could never get my early groups to accept a sci-fi/fantasy mashup like Rifts, I bought sourcebooks for everything under the Palladium sun, mining some of the stranger fantasy elements for my own D&D games.
As I was also getting heavily into anime at the time, I had a special fondness for the Robotech line. At one time I owned every single sourcebook Palladium published for it, despite my regular group having even less interest in it than Rifts.
Anyway, my old group's strict definitions of what fantasy was and wasn't—and their almost fanatical opposition to genre mixing of any kind—is a subject for another time.
But if there's one thing I always thought Palladium games got 100% right, it was the opposed roll combat mechanic. Yeah, it kind of broke when scaled up to higher levels. Tracking multiple character actions, plus massive amounts of Armor SDC, Character SDC, and Hit Points got to be a pain in the ass. Especially after level five or so.
But the basic idea of the defender being allowed to dodge by beating the attacker's d20 roll was—and is—gold. And even though I was never able to convince my players to pick up a full Palladium game, a variation on that opposed d20 roll has been a longtime house rule of mine when running D&D.
For one thing, it keeps the players from feeling like combat is just an abstract game of roshambo. Every time I've introduced it at one of my tables, the players get much more involved in the battles. They suddenly feel like they're playing for stakes.
I also feel it does a better job of simulating the "grit" of combat. Armor as damage reduction just feels more intuitive than armor making someone harder to hit. It also means armor wears out over time. It's an expendable resource that has to be managed, like water, food, and torches. Not to mention the need to find an armor smith in between battles. Suddenly, long journeys into unknown territory become a much more dangerous affair.
So without further ado, here's my house-ruled Active Combat System. It's basically a stripped-down, bare bones version of Palladium's more intricate combat mechanics. If you're already familiar with those, then you won't find much new here.
Once the DM has a handle on it, this system is actually much simpler than it looks. Doing the opposed rolls simultaneously doesn't really take any longer to resolve than rolling against a character's AC. It adds a layer of player participation to the combat round, without adding much more bookkeeping.
It also affects combat in some interesting ways. With each character only getting one chance to defend in a round (or two, if they forego an attack), mobs of low level enemies like goblins suddenly become a deadly threat to even the highest level characters. Sure, the first twenty or thirty hits will get eaten up by that nice, expensive suit of chainmail. But remember, once it's rendered useless, any undefended roll of 5 or greater is a success. It won't take long for those little bastards to make hamburger out of the toughest warrior under those circumstances.
It hasn't happened in my current group yet, but as armor gets torn to shreds and healing spells run out, a fighting retreat often becomes the smartest course of action. I've seen the tanks form a barrier, using both actions to defend just so they can buy time for the other PCs to escape.
In short, these rules force the PCs to be much more careful about their tactical situation. It won't be a good fit for everyone's table. Hell, it hasn't even been a good fit for all of my tables. But if your players are starting to see combat as a repetitive slog, then it might be just what your group needs.
Below is a photo from our last D&D session. Yes, that's a giant frog on the table. The hair elastic around its neck is a lasso, and the miniature on its back represents one of the PC's riding her newly tamed gargantuan monster.
On a related note, now I'm questioning all of my life choices as a DM...
Joking aside, that picture represents something any DM who wants to keep his or her players engaged needs to consider: what type of fantasy stories have your players been consuming prior to sitting down at your table?
Case in point: I'm a big fan of the pulpy, Weird Tales type fantasy that makes up most of Gary Gygax's famous Appendix N. As such, my campaign's cosmology is ripped straight from Michael Moorcock. My game's elves owe more to his doomed Melnibonéans than to Tolkien's ethereal forest dwellers. I like Vancian Magic. One of my players is currently under a curse inspired by an unfinished Robert E. Howard fragment.
In other words, I sit down to the DMs chair with some pre-loaded assumptions and preferences about the flavor of fantasy I want to imitate in-game.
What most newbie DMs forget is that the players sit down with a similar set of assumptions and preferences. They're looking to experience a certain flavor of fantasy, too. And the success of the game depends heavily on whether or not those flavors are compatible.
For example, one of my campaigns was loosely based around the Crusades, set in a world where most of the Arthurian Myth cycle was historically verified fact. It was a great fit, because I had players that had been reading Ivanhoe and Le Mort de Arthur playing alongside devoted fans of Marion Zimmer Bradley's Mists of Avalon series.
Another group I ran enjoyed Dante's Inferno, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Steven Brust's brilliant novel To Reign in Hell. I crafted a game where the PCs had all died on the Prime Material Plane and had to adventure through the Nine Hells, which I populated with snarky, sarcastic demons and modern pop-culture references.
So, what about my current game? How closely do my assumptions match up with theirs?
Short answer: not at all. I'm not just the only one who's been reading Howard, Moorcock, and Vance recently. I'm the only one who's read them at all.
So, what have my players been consuming that I haven't? And more importantly, how did I work that into the game to keep them satisfied and engaged?
First up is my wife, Vanessa. While not much of a fiction reader, she absolutely loves visual works of fantasy. She's an avid fan of artists like Brian Froud and Daniel Merriam. Two of her all-time favorite movies are The Princess Bride and Labyrinth. In short, she prefers a light, whimsical take on the fantasy genre, and when our friends proposed a D&D group, her first question was "Can I play a fairy?"
I did some research, looking for a homebrew race that would be somewhat B/X compatible. I ended up using a variation of the half-pixie Phaerim, detailed in R. Kevin Smoot's New Races: A Basic Fantasy Supplement. Since B/X uses race-as-class, I decided to run her as a winged Halfling, for purposes of level advancement and saving throws.
The other two players in the group are another married couple, Leah and Aaron. While they've both read the standard genre classics like Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, a huge part of their recent fantasy intake has been in anime and manga form. In particular, they're both fans of isekai shows like That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime and Overlord.
That anime influence was obvious less than halfway through the first session, with the sheer number of called shots and crazy maneuvers both of them attempted in each combat encounter. The problem is that B/X D&D doesn't really support that style of combat, at least not when using Rules as Written. On one hand, the players' options tend to be more open, since not much is spelled out in the rules. The flip side is that the players' power level is pretty low.
The likeliest result? Lots of dead PCs, and a table full of players who take fewer risks with their newly-rolled replacement characters. And while that gels perfectly with my gritty, Appendix N-flavored sword and sorcery style, it's not really what the players sat down wanting to experience.
In other words, I had to do some adjusting.
One of the first things I did was bump the characters' power level. I introduced the optional Cantrips list from The Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game, so Leah's Elf could cast more than one spell per day. I also introduced some optional combat maneuvers for Aaron's fighter, like a once per combat Shield Bash that does no damage, but knocks a human sized opponent prone on a successful strike.
I also entirely re-vamped the game's combat mechanic, which I'll detail in an upcoming post.
The last thing I did was more of a situational call:
When the PCs were crossing a marshland via an ancient causeway, I had them encounter a pair of giant frogs. But instead of my little plastic pogs marking the monsters' position, someone grabbed that stuffed frog off the shelf and dropped it on the mat.
I quickly changed the encounter to one gargantuan frog, which (based on the stuffed animal's cuteness) my wife's character immediately decided that the party needed to tame. Everyone else was instantly on board with the idea.
I could do one of two things at that point: run it as a standard combat encounter, forcing the players into a fight they didn't really want. Or find a way for them to try it their way.
Looking over Leah's spell list, I quietly scribbled out the word "person" next to her first level Charm spell.
"This is now an all-purpose Charm," I said. "It still doesn't work on undead or magical creatures. But anything in nature is susceptible. Including giant animals."
If you could only have seen the smiles around that table, folks.
What followed was a zany, over-the-top combat encounter, in which the PC's weakened the frog enough to lasso it, rode along as it dove into the water and tried to swim away, and then climbed up onto its head in order to look it in the eye and cast Charm.
In other words, it was pretty much the polar opposite of the gritty, sword and sorcery-inspired combat encounter I'd had in mind. My players couldn't have been happier.
As their DM, neither could I.
Pop quiz, hot shot.
Let's say you're a complete newcomer to roleplaying games. You and your friends want to jump into D&D. And you, you lucky bastard, have been elected Dungeon Master. Well, guess what? You're literally the only player who needs to have the rules on hand. Serves you right for being so handsome and personable.
What do you do? What do you do?
90's action-movie references aside, your options are as follows:
Amazon can take the sting out of the cost of the core rulebooks, dropping the cost to around $60 for just the Player's Handbook and Monster Manual. The Starter Set generally runs close to retail, but you can sometimes find a third party seller packaging it with extra dice.
My personal recommendation? Don't start with "official" D&D. Start with the Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game.
Like most independently-published retro-clone games, the core rules are available as a free PDF. Unlike most of them, that free PDF includes all art and illustrations. The game's publisher has also made the print version available at cost, meaning a physical copy of the rulebook will only set you back $5.
And that rulebook is an all-in-one, containing the complete Players' Guide, Game Master information, and Monsters. Getting the same "complete" rules for 5e will run you around $150.00, by comparison.
Below is my copy of the core rulebook, along with six sets of dice (and bags) I scored for $10.99. Total cost? Less than sixteen bucks before tax.
For my money, this is the best "D&D Starter Set" you can build. It's cheaper than the official one, provides complete rules, and each player gets their own set of dice. Hell, if you wanted to be extra generous, you could buy each player a copy of the rulebook. You'd still come out of it cheaper than the 5e Players' Handbook.
Sure, BFRPG lacks some of the bells and whistles of 5e, like Backgrounds and Feats. But it's close enough to give you (and your players) a real taste of the game. You can always upgrade to 5e later, after you're all hopelessly addict— er, umm... comfortable with the game. Even if you don't, BFRPG has enough free supplements available to keep your group going for years.
No matter what version of the game you start out with, just remember: the smart DM lets his players buy the pizza. The wise DM gives them an XP bonus to make sure they do it again.
For part one of this series, click here. For part two, click here. For part three, click here. For part four, click here. And for part five, click here.
To close this little experiment out, I'm going to end right where the games do: with Dracula. Now, statting out the big boss for a Castlevania game could be easy. After all, he's a vampire, right? Why not just use the same Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game template I did for Carmilla?
Well, that gets back to what I said in my last post, about Ravenloft and Castlevania being two properties with different feels to them. Case in point: Strahd Von Zarovich is probably my favorite D&D villain of all time. He's devilishly smart. He's an accomplished wizard, who uses both magic and his environment to his advantage. But he's basically just a standard vampire, with a few tweaks to his power level. A canny-enough group of PCs could conceivably surprise him in his coffin, drive a stake through his heart, and end the problem. It's not likely, mind you, but it's possible.
Dracula from the Castlevania series, however, is another matter entirely. The climax is always a pitched battle, with Dracula taking on multiple forms. His human facade melts away, revealing a hideous, demonic nature. Only by defeating his final form (however many he goes through), do our heroes save the day.
And sure, part of that is because it's a platformer game, and platformers always end with a big boss fight. But I also think it's an essential part of the franchise. Simply put, if you're running a Castlevania-themed game, the only way to make it "feel" like Castlevania is to end it with an epic, shapeshifting, "now-face-my-TRUE-power"-style boss fight.
To that end, the first thing to realize is that Castlevania Dracula isn't really a vampire. Not in the Bela Lugosi/pop-culture/European folklore sense. Castlevania Dracula is really a maō, or Japanese Demon Lord.
Don't just take it from me. The Japanese title of the first game is Akumajou Dracula, or "Demon Castle Dracula." The akuma is an evil fire-spirit in traditional Japanese folklore, and when Christianity came to Japan in 1549, Akuma was the name applied to Satan. Language drift being what it is, "akuma" was sometimes shortened to "ma," meaning devil or demon, and maō is "demon ruler" or "demon king."
This article on Legends of Localization goes into more detail, but for our purposes it's enough to know that Dracula is much more than a vampire.
With this in mind, I decided to stat out three of Dracula's forms separately. I did use a modified vampire for the first one, since it seemed appropriate. For the second, I leaned heavily on the Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game Infernal races (specifically the Malebranche and the Vrock). The last one—based on the cluster of floating heads from Castlevania III--is a modification of the Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game Giant Flying Brain.
But enough talk! HAVE AT YOU!
Vlad Dracula Tepes (First Form)
Armor Class: 21
Hit Dice: 12 (attack bonus +12)
No. of Attacks: 1 or magic
Damage: 1d10, or magic
Movement: 40' or 60' (fly)
No. Appearing: 1 (Unique)
Save as: Lvl 12 Fighter
Treasure Type: Special
In his first form, Dracula appears to be an abnormally large vampire. He resembles an 8' tall human male, with pale skin, dark hair, and flaming red eyes. His canine teeth are sharp, and his features are vaguely lupine.
Like mundane vampires, in this form Dracula casts no shadow and no reflection. Unlike common vampires, he is perfectly capable of crossing running water and entering another's home without invitation. Additionally, mirrors and garlic have no effect. He may pretend to have these weaknesses at first, in order to lure his enemies into false confidence.
A cross presented with conviction will keep him at bay, provided the wielder is at least level 3 (for more information on this weakness, see the Vampire, p. 124 of the Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game). He may also be turned, but the Cleric attempting to do so faces a -5 penalty.
Dracula is immune to Sleep, Charm, and Hold spells. He does not use weapons, preferring to use spells in combat. If forced to fight physically, he slashes at his enemies with his claws for 1d10 damage.
Dracula is not known to bite in combat. However, his bite inflicts 1d3 damage, and drains two level of energy for each round he continues to feed. While feeding, he suffers a -5 Armor Class penalty. Victims reduced to 0 hit points by in this manner die, and they will rise again as vampires during the next sunset. These new vampires are permanently under Dracula's control, and always act as if under a Charm spell.
Dracula has access to many magic spells. One of his preferred methods of attack is to cast Teleport (which he can do at will) to take an advantageous position behind his enemies, and then attack from a distance with Hellfire. For purposes of spell duration and saves, Dracula's Caster Level is 20.
Dracula can command common nocturnal creatures. Twice per day, he can summon 10d12 rats, 5d6 giant rats, 10d12 bats, 3d8 giant bats, or 3d8 wolves. The creatures must be nearby to be summoned. Once called, they arrive in 2d6 rounds and obey his commands for 2 hours.
At will, Dracula can transform into a swarm of 4d4 giant bats. The bats are identical to those detailed on p. 58 of the Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game. Dracula often uses this ability to flee the area when surprised or overmatched. As long as even one of these bats survives, he is capable of returning to his first form, retaining the same number of Hit Points he had before transforming.
Dracula also has the common vampire's Charm gaze, which his victims must save vs Spell to resist. Victims save at -4.
Dracula cannot be harmed by non-magical weapons. Reducing him to 0 Hit Points or exposing him to direct sunlight for more than 5 rounds only destroys his first form, causing him to assume the next one.
1st Level Spell
Range: 100' + 10'/Level
This spell causes a small ball of fire to shoot forth and strike a target of the caster's choosing, causing 1d6+1 damage. The target must be at least partially visible to the caster. For every three caster levels after 1st, an additional fireball is generated: two at 4th level, three at 7th, four at 10th, and the maximum number of five at 13th level and above.
Vlad Dracula Tepes (Second Form)
Armor Class: 24
Hit Dice: 14 (attack bonus +12)
No. of Attacks: 1 or Special
Damage: 1d10 or Special
Movement: 30' or 15' (fly)
No. Appearing: 1 (Unique)
Save as: Lvl 14 Fighter
Treasure Type: Special
In his second form, Dracula resembles a huge, ugly, gargoyle-like creature. Membraneous wings connect his arms to his torso. Ram-like horns extend from the sides of his head.
Dracula is incapable of true "flight" in his gargoyle form, as his wings cannot support his massive body. However, he can use them to leap vertical and horizontal distances of over 15 feet. He uses this ability in combat, leaping at his enemy and slashing for 1d10 damage with his feet.
He is also capable of breathing modified Fireballs at will. Dracula's fireballs are treated as if generated by a fifth level caster, causing 5d6 damage, and having a range of 150 feet. Rather than saving vs. Spell for half damage, his targets are allowed a save vs. Breath Weapon to avoid damage altogether.
While in this form, Dracula can only be harmed by magical weapons and spells cast by a character of 3rd Level or higher. He is completely immune to Sleep, Charm, and Hold spells. Additionally, as he is no longer assuming the shape of an undead creature, he cannot be turned. Reducing Dracula's Second Form to 0 Hit Points does not kill him. It only causes him to assume his Third and final form.
Vlad Dracula Tepes (Third Form)
Armor Class: 14
Hit Dice: 24 (attack bonus +1)
No. of Attacks: Magic or Special
Movement: 30' or 15' (fly)
No. Appearing: 1 (Unique)
Save as: Lvl 14 Magic User
Treasure Type: Special
In his Third and final form, Dracula appears as a massive cluster of 4d4 giant heads. The heads float 5-15 feet in the air, continuously pulsating and moaning. Upon first seeing this form, all creatures must save vs Spell or be paralyzed for 2d8 turns, as if targeted by a Hold Person spell.
In this form Dracula can cast spells as a 14th level magic user, although for purposes of damage, spell duration, and saves, his Caster Level is treated as 20.
Additionally, each of the heads in the cluster drips a corrosive acid from its mouth. The acid causes 2d8 points of damage. Those hit by the acid drops must make a save vs. Breath Weapon. If unsuccessful, the acid dissolves 1d4 random unenchanted object on the target's person, rendering them useless.
When Dracula's Third Form is reduced to 0 Hit Points, he is not killed. His spirit is either returned to the primordial chaos beyond the world, or it is absorbed by the walls of Castlevania itself. Dracula will Reincarnate into his First Form in exactly 100 years, unless outsiders attempt to revive him early.
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