The Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters Guide has many fascinating sections in it. While it often fails to elucidate the rules in a clear manner, it’s nothing if not full of inspirational material for DMs. From glimpses of the sort of campaign that is proposed for Dungeons & Dragons, to manifold tables to help stock dungeons, towns and the wilderness with interesting monsters and features, you can always find something interesting in it.

Although, I say to you: Good luck understanding how initiative works!

Lore to Inspire Campaigns

One fascinating section is that of Magic Item Table (III. E.) Special – the table of artefacts and relics. Some of these artefacts were first introduced in D&D Supplement III: Eldritch Wizardry in 1976, but they get expanded treatment here. Items that previously lacked a history gain them. In that list items, sits the Rod of Seven Parts.

The Wind Dukes of Aaqa are the legendary creators of this artifact. It is said that they constructed the Rod to use in the great battle of Pesh where Chaos and Law contended. There, the Rod was shattered, and its parts scattered, but the enchantments of the item were such that nothing could actually destroy it, so if its sections are recovered and put together in the correct order, the possessor will wield a weapon of surpassing power. (Gary Gygax, Dungeon Masters Guide, [TSR Games 1979], 160).

Who were the Wind Dukes of Aaqa? At the time, we didn’t know. They’re not part of Greyhawk at this point – many of the artefacts were made up of whole cloth and never saw use in the campaign. The Rod of Seven Parts was expanded further during Second Edition. The Book of Artifacts was the first to describe Miska, the Wolf-Spider, who was the champion of Chaos. And the massive adventure The Rod of Seven Parts by Skip Williams in 1996 gave more details yet.

Nine months ago, I ran an adventure from the Tactical Adventure Atlas which included a magic gem which, upon a poor saving throw, banished one of the characters (Everest) to the Elemental Plane of Air. I described the location as a shrine to the Wind Lords of Aaqa.

And I ignored most of the previous details about them. We’re DMs. We can do that! Lore should inspire, not constrain. Erik Mona had placed the Wind Lords in Greyhawk during the Age of Worms series in Dungeon Magazine, so I kept that. But I thought that was the only reference I’d use.

The party is finally looking for Everest. I described how the players’ initial exploration a couple of weeks ago, but now they had their bearings.

Nothing is Ever Simple

There’s just one problem: The characters had no idea where to start! (That was fine – I had only the vaguest idea of what they’d find). I came to this adventure with a copy of the AD&D Manual of the Planes and the Creature Codex (the latter from Kobold Press). And an iPad full of manuals and tomes. I knew that the djinn had captured Everest. And they guarded an artefact needed in the war in Veluna.

So, the characters moved swiftly in one direction, falling through the endless sky. And they searched for inhabitants of the plane they could question. Surely, there would be someone?

Here’s something fun: many of the inhabitants are invisible! They’re made of air, in a plane of endless air. So, how do you find them?

I’d thought before the session started that I’d have the party find a group of mephitis or other air-dwellers and gain directions from them. But as the characters fell, I had another idea.

I dislike during an investigation when the DM moves clues about so the players can find them. But I’m very happy to just invent what they find. Consistency? Me?

So it was that the characters espied an island of rough white marble in the distance – and on the flat top of that island, a colonnaded area!

Linking Plot Strands

As the party cautiously approached, they couldn’t see any creatures. (There weren’t any. Even invisible ones). However, there was a plain marble altar in the centre of the area. Everything was plain.

Except, was it? As the characters reached the centre, a flicker of movement caught their attention. Those plain columns? Now they displayed carvings of warriors. And those warriors were animated – fighting demons of chaos.

And the altar? It bore the most impressive tableau – a warrior wielding a staff fighting a demon-spider. As the characters watched, the spider was killed, but the staff split into many fragments.

All disappeared, save one fragment. And it rose above the table.

Sir Nil, of course, touched it. It disappeared, but he could feel in which direction the real fragment was located.

Making Use of Inspiration

The players had come to the plane of Air for two reasons: to rescue Everest and to recover an Artefact. I knew Everest was held by the djinn. I hadn’t decided on what the artefact was. But, during the session, I’d made up my mind.

Well… that’s the plot for the next several months of the campaign! The characters have to find the Rod of Seven Parts.

Once they get Everest free and steal the first part of the Rod, that is. Why are the djinn holding Everest prisoner? Aren’t they Chaotic Good?

And what does the Rod do? One of the fun things about the original books is that they, quite deliberately, didn’t detail what the artefacts and relics did. They left blank spaces and a table of suggestions so you could personalise the items for your own campaign. And, so no player reading the books knew what they did! Secrecy was a big thing back then!

I grew up reading the X-Men during Chris Claremont’s classic era. One thing Claremont would do was provide hints to lots of plots… and then leave them dangling. It can get annoying if you’re waiting for one you like to be resolved. But it’s a useful technique for DMs. Do lots of things that could inspire adventures. Use those the players like – or take back up ones you like when the moment is right!