Traps

In the recent interview I did, I mentioned my love of fencing, feinting, and second intentions. Let me show you how that is applied to trapsmithing. First, let’s acknowledge that the players are excellent and efficient problem solvers. A GM presents a problem and most players will find a solution for it within a minute—usually

Whistling a tune, with a fishing rod slung across his right shoulder and his hammock wrapped under his left arm, Gavin strolled down toward the lake’s edge. A day of leisure would do him good—no clients, no deadlines, just him lying in the sun, angling for fish. The corpse ended his whistling, and distant fighting

Maybe I shouldn’t continue. The thought surprised Gavin, and he stopped working on one of his more experimental designs. Pacing back and forth, Gavin considered his supplies: a neat row of surgeon’s tools, a stuffed weasel, a potion of healing, and a bedsheet. He knew what he considered to do with the potion of healing

“And these are the teeth of a vampire. I’ve forgotten his name, but I’ll never forget the look on his face when I knocked them out.” Thundar the Mighty grinned widely before moving to the next display in the former warrior’s trophy room. As he followed his host, Gavin didn’t doubt a word Thundar the

“You’re sure about this?” A stiff nod from Jito and the determined glint in his eyes were answer enough for Gavin. Gavin often had trouble distinguishing between determined and crazed when it came to kobolds, though. Gavin checked his operating theater: He had the inner workings of the cuckoo clock Jito had brought, as well

Gavin chewed thoughtfully on some exquisite squirrel jerky as he monitored the bounty hunters’ approach. They clearly knew his reputation because they were moving slowly and methodically checking their surroundings for hidden surprises. Yes, they knew who and what he was. This was going to be fun. Taking off his right boot, Gavin collected his

Gark peered deep into the flame, waiting for the blessed moment when the Mother of Destruction would whisper her words of inspiration. Blinking heavily, he withdrew from the flame. “Free the flame” she had said, but what did that mean? Snacking on some pigeons, he sifted through his trapsmithing stores. There was the sturdy dwarf-sized

Running through the forest, Gavin silently congratulated himself. Things were going splendidly. The werewolf pack was hunting him down, and, if everything went according to plan, they would trouble the baroness no more. No sooner had he finished the thought than the ground rose to meet him. Dazed, Gavin picked himself up and looked at

Standing over Robin’s motionless body, Gavin felt a slight pang of regret. Maybe he shouldn’t have teased the youth about his lack of experience. Robin’s bold charge of the albino dire bat had been glorious, but the fiendish bat had savaged the boy’s chest to a bloody pulp in return. Scrounging through the boy’s pockets

Gavin carefully handled the two porcelain dolls he had ordered. Both carried the visage of Dargon, the foolish mage who had reneged on their deal. Gavin had secured the mage’s tower with several contraptions and then the mage had decided that the secret of those contraptions should be kept by only one person. Gavin had

“Praise the knight, for he is a metal-clad pillar of strength.” Gavin didn’t know why he recalled that particular street preacher’ sermon as he sped through the narrow alley. It was oddly appropriate because the paladin did prove to be relentless in his pursuit. The clanking of metal armor stayed with him, even though Gavin