Tabletop Games Thread

[Saiga]

I wouldn't call those people worth killing so the comparison is meaningless.

[Five_X]

If they're fighting you, you generally don't have much of a choice in killing them unless you run away or put in the extra effort to make sure they're all beaten non-lethally, which provides its own challenges.

[Saiga]

I would definitely say that you should put in that extra effort. Cutting down unwilling combatants is VERY hard to justify as it would have to be the only option, and it's hard to be sure that is the case.

Even if it were, that's still not the same thing as an enemy "worth" killing. I'm talking about willing, evil combatants. Fuck 'em.

edit: Although, I did read two things against Necromancy in D&D. I don't know if those hold true for all editions, but apparently necromancy spells channel negative energy which is actually harmful to the world, which makes it much harder to justify using it. Another factor is the idea that a soul is trapped inside the body you reanimate, which means you are still harming a conscious being rather than an empty shell. But I know Skeletons have no souls, at least, so they should still be fair game!

[Seika]

Necromancy has channelled the Negative since we've had the Planes, I think, and probably before. That's not necessarily evil per se, though, just destructive, in the same way a healing spell (channelling the Positive) isn't inherently good, just constructive. If someone plane shifts you to the Positive Energy Plane, you die just about as quickly as if they threw you to the Negative.

E: That said, the beings that live on the Negative are, to my recollection, uniformly evil, so ...

[Janx]

I haven't table gamed in so long....

[mAc Chaos]

I would definitely say that you should put in that extra effort. Cutting down unwilling combatants is VERY hard to justify as it would have to be the only option, and it's hard to be sure that is the case.

Even if it were, that's still not the same thing as an enemy "worth" killing. I'm talking about willing, evil combatants. Fuck 'em.

edit: Although, I did read two things against Necromancy in D&D. I don't know if those hold true for all editions, but apparently necromancy spells channel negative energy which is actually harmful to the world, which makes it much harder to justify using it. Another factor is the idea that a soul is trapped inside the body you reanimate, which means you are still harming a conscious being rather than an empty shell. But I know Skeletons have no souls, at least, so they should still be fair game!

That's the most obvious reason but I was avoiding that because it boils down to "it's evil because it is."

[Seika]

Haha, yikes. I remembered "You overheal until you hit double HP, then explode." I did not remember this description of it (though, to be fair, I'm pretty sure I've only ever skimmed the Guide to the Inner Planes before).

Then, as quick as a sword stroke, the sod's blasted into invisible gobbets of pulverised flesh as his soul flames, overloaded with positive energy, consuming him from within. It's not a pretty sight, believe me.

Planescape is deeply metal.

Also metal (as it should be) and strongly influenced by Sumer, the Complete Book of Necromancers:

When Our Lady of Pain discovered her sister had left the Land of the Living and taken refuge in the World of the Dead, her wrath and fury were boundless. She descended to the Land of No Return, through the caverns and lower regions known only to this spirits, until she reached the city of Erkalla itself, ruled by Cyric, the King of the Dead. And Loviatar approached the gate of the city, known as Ganzir, and pounded her Flail of Tears on the door, demanding to be let in, but her command was unanswered, and her screams resounded through the streets of Erkalla:

"Gatekeeper, I am here at Ganzir before the Walls of Erkalla. Open these gates for me! I am Loviatar, Maiden of Pain, Mistress of Sorrow, and I shall smash down this door if you do not open it! I shall crack open the bolts with my Flail of Tears and sunder the iron with my Scourge of Despair. I shall release all the dead from city of Erkalla, and they shall climb up the stairs of the earth. I shall raise up the dead, and they shall eat the living: the dead shall outnumber the living!"

And the Gatekeeper appeared, and he opened the door, but he would not let Our Lady pass:

"Mighty Loviatar, Maiden of Pain, you cannot enter Erkalla with your symbols of Power. Leave them with me, and then you may visit the King."

Our Lady of Pain saw the truth in his words, and at the gate of the city, she stripped off her talismans. She gave up the Flail of Tears, surrendered the Scourge of Despair. She unwrapped her Robe of Severed Hands, and coiled up her Whip of Countless Afflictions. She unwrapped the spiked wire from her hair and plucked out the needles from her nails.

And at last Loviatar was finished, and the Gatekeeper escorted her into Cyric's dismal palace. And the King of the Dead saw Our Lady humbled, and in his throne room of glory, he heard her complaint. Cyric made hisvoice heard like a gavel of thunder, and he spoke loudly his judgment, with the following words:

"I am Cyric, Lord of Erkalla, and I welcome you to my pale domain. You have no power here in my most ancient city: over the dead only I am King. I have heard your request and will honor it. When you leave, your sister shall accompany you. But each winter she will come back and visit me, and I shall return her to your side in the summer."

Our Lady of Pain heard his pronouncement, and she left gladly with her sister beside her. Thus Loviatar ascended from the netherworld, resuming her just punishment of Man.

[Bird of Hermes]

Finally got my group together after 2 months. The chase scene with the doppelganger went off without a hitch, plot has progressed nicely and things are setting up for expansion.

[mAc Chaos]

I suppose I might as well post that write-up of my last session that I promised Five I would do.

Here goes:

The party had been cleaving their way through a thick amazon wilderness; a cursed forest called The Blight that was choking its way across the continent.

The conceit of this area was that it was an alien wilderness hostile to human life. It was hard to find food, because all wildlife had been driven away or killed, save the cursed animals that were mutated and vicious. Water was most likely diseased. The plants were carnivorous and had a life of their own; when you walked through the grass, it tried to grab at you, and so did vines and trees and such. That made resting hard. A mystical green fog suffused the area, lowering visibility and creeping people out with the horrible spirits that would be seen drifting through it now and then. Every so often there’d be malicious fey, and other monsters, who thrived in the new environment.

Here, I brought the full brunt of D&D’s resource management game to bear: each day brought new weather with different effects, along with monsters, new terrain with its own hazards, slowly dwindling food and water supplies, mounting exhaustion from difficulty finding good places to sleep, and so forth. Anyone entering the Blight would soon find themselves being wrung out from both ends like a fraying rope.

There’s jokes about old school D&D being “fantasy Vietnam,” well, welcome to it.

They had just left a centaur grove in the midst of the Blight, that was one of the few untouched places yet in the forest. There they were able to rest, and after warding off a dragon cultist attack, they set back out fully replenished.

The party’s goal was to find the heart of the Blight, a gigantic tree from which the curse originated, enter inside it and slay the beating Gulthias Heart within. A Gulthias Heart is a seed of evil implanted into the land by a great malevolent power, which takes root and spreads. It had several layered defenses that required a motley of magic items or spells to defuse, such as Hallow, Dispel Magic, and Remove Curse. Otherwise, they would not be able to destroy it, which they found out the first time they’d managed to claw their way through the wilderness and into the Gulthias Tree.

And so, the party made their way through the forest, trying to find the Gulthias Heart. However, with their first Survival roll to navigate the wilderness, they got a nat 1, and became lost. (Not that I told them. They would have to deduce it themselves as play continued. I had a map made of hexes detailing the entire area, and would mark their progress.)

They got lost right in the middle of a blizzard. If they didn’t find a way to keep warm soon, they’d get frostbite. (Mounting ranks of exhaustion.)

They came across a chasm that was connected by a ghost bridge. That’s right, a spectral stone bridge that represented a place that was out of sync with time: a peek into the past.

Wary of attempting to cross it, and finding that it was formless besides, the party tried to continue up the chasm and find a different place. However, the bridge simply followed them up and down the chasm. It seems the area itself was haunted.

One of the players, a Fighter, had an amulet that would create a pillar of ice beneath his feet Silver Surfer style, so he used it to propel him forward across the chasm and create an ice bridge for the others.

When the Fighter reached the other side, he found the ghostly figure of a knight riding atop a horse, commanding him to turn back. After talking to him, the Fighter realized the ghost didn’t realize it was dead, and was still guarding the bridge from trespassers to this day. As the others tried to cross, precariously crossing the ice bridge across the bridge, the knight attacked!

However, before it send them plummeting to the abyss below, the Fighter took out a pouch filled with the ashes of a sanctified tree that the centaurs had gifted to them, and tossed the powder at the spirit. The powder was blessed with the power to hallow an area and drive away undead. And so, in one fell swoop, the spectral bridge and knight vanished into mist, the knight’s vengeful screams echoing through the area.

They were planning to use the ashes to Hallow the Gulthias Heart, but luckily they still had a dose left. Right now they were just thankful they managed to easily avoid what looked like a difficult encounter on unfavorable terrain and in hostile weather.

Continuing on, with a rank of exhaustion mounting on everyone, they eventually came across a sunken valley, upon which a ruined aztec looking temple lay. They immediately nicknamed it after the restaurant I took Spinach/Nachos/Kirby/Moony to during their stay with me.

A spooky howling emanated constantly from the inside of the temple, like the loud winds of a hurricane.

Desperate to have some respite from the blizzard, they decided to brave the innards of the temple until the weather abated.

As they approached it, the party’s leader, a Tiefling Bard, noticed that the temple was covered in runes written in Infernal. Luckily, he could read that! So he did. “ONLY THE CHOSEN MAY PASS, THOSE WHO INTRUDE WILL—“ but the rest was cut off, worn away by time.

Carefully, they stepped into the temple. Nothing happened.

Until the Paladin tried to step through. Suddenly, a wall of flames flared to life, utterly scorching the entrance. The Paladin barely leapt through to the other side, clothes singed and smelling of soot. He looked down at the ground and saw that there was a glowing rune at the foot of the entrance they’d neglected.

Proceeding deeper inside, they came to a chamber that promptly sealed them inside upon entering. There were infernal runes here too, that the Tiefling Bard read. It appeared they had found the true entrance to the temple, which was fitted with a test to stop any trespassers from making it further inside.

There were two doors.

The door to the left had hieroglyphics of a cultist with horns protruding from its head, who had an exaggerated sad face as he breathed in what appeared to be some sort of cloud.

The door to the right had an image of the same cultist, but with a happy face as he took a dagger to his wrist.

After debating which door to try and open, they decided to try for the one with the happy faced wrist slitting cultist.

When they pulled the lever to open the door, a small slot opened in the wall, spitting out a dagger.

Written in infernal along the blade was text: “This will quench our thirst.”

The Tiefling Bard decided to try pricking his finger with the dagger, and smearing some blood on the door.

The door absorbed the blood as if it was never there. The dagger also absorbed whatever blood was on it, appearing as pristine as ever.

Gulping, he took up the dagger and tore his wrist open with the dagger, immediately dropping him to 0 hit points. Blood sprayed like a fountain across the door and dagger, both absorbing it.

As the party Druid healed the Tiefling Bard, the door slid open, revealing the way inside. The Tiefling pocketed the dagger, feeling it might be important for later.

Inside, they found a morgue. Four sarcophagi lay against the wall on the other side of the room, flanking a door that led out. There was also a pentagram inscribed into the center of the room, with the floor angled such that it was sunken into the ground a bit, like a drain in a locker room.

The Fighter, eager to find treasure, popped open the sarcophagi. Sure enough, he saw three mummies in the four caskets. They were Tieflings, undead, bandaged but with horns giving away their true nature.

One of the Tiefling mummies had a magical ring on each horn.

Over the protests of the other players, the Fighter pulled the rings off. The air filled with the groans of undead as the mummies lurched to life, emerging from their caskets to punish the trespassers.

The mummies fought by punching with a black sand that swirled around their fists, scraping away viciously at anything that came into contact with them like a sort of super sanding paper.

The Fighter and Paladin soon were hit by it, and after realizing they were overcome by a tremendous thirst, found themselves dying, their body being eaten away by some sort of rot bestowed by that black sand. The Druid tried to heal them, but no healing spell appeared to work. They also tried some of the magical items gifted to them by the centaurs, but those didn’t work either. Instead they were just down some items, while the mummies wore away at the two remaining members.

No longer knowing what to do, the Druid used his combat turn to just study the rot, and found that it was not a disease, nor damage that could be healed, but a magical curse the mummies placed upon their touch.

“Does that mean we need a Remove Curse spell? I don’t have one!” the Druid lamented.

“Well, there isn’t always an answer. Sometimes you’re just done. That’s it then,” the Paladin said.

That was when the Tiefling Bard looked down at the dagger he had. “This will quench our thirst.” He suddenly had an idea.

“WITNESS ME!” he cried, and slit his wrist open, spraying the two downed party members’ rotting wounds with his blood, before dropping to zero hit points and passing out alongside them.

The rot slowly absorbed the blood, becoming pink healthy flesh.

NOW, the Druid tried healing the Fighter, and it worked. The Fighter got up to his knees, just in time for the Druid to get taken down by the last mummy.

That left the Fighter all alone, with the Paladin, Bard, and Druid unconscious. He defeated the last mummy, and stabilized everybody.

The Fighter didn’t have a way to heal them, so he just had to wait some hours for everybody to awake.

But first! While everyone else was unconscious, he took the opportunity to go around and pluck up all the treasure that had been dropped during the melee for himself: two magical rings, a magical amulet, and a magical bracelet, all courtesy of the defeated mummies.

Once his greed was sated, that was when he noticed that all the blood that had been spilled was slowly circling across the floor like water down a drain, towards the pentagram in the center of the room.

“OH SHIT,” he cried, fearing the worst, and used another charge from his amulet to create a pillar of ice sideways across the room to block the blood from reaching the pentagram.

The blood halted, he wiped the sweat off his brow and decided to rest a bit until the others awoke.

Here, I rolled a d4 for each party member to see how many hours they would wake up in: two hours, three hours, and three hours.

Then, towards the end of each hour, I rolled for a random encounter.

First hour: nothing.

Second hour: something. I had made a list of random encounters for this area of monsters nearby, and had my friend roll a d6 to determine what it was.

Suddenly, the same spooky howling that they’d heard before entering the temple blew into the room.

Stepping into the room, from the passageway leading up ahead, was an undead Tiefling, clad in head to toe in polished black armor, and wielding a black sword.

“I sense life yet breathing within these walls,” the Tiefling black knight told the Fighter with a metallic rasp, who was out in plain sight. The other three were hidden unconscious behind the pillar of ice in the room.

The figure explained that he was the guardian of this place, and that it had been bested by three Paladins from an ancient order, long ago. He had managed to drive them off, but not before the damage was done. Now he stays here, waiting for the day he can be released by the blood of mortals.

That was all the Fighter needed to know, and so the great 1-on-1 duel began. At this point, I had the Tiefling Bard, who should be waking up any moment, start making CON saves each turn to determine if he would stir from slumber.

Alas, he rolled like a 2 every time.

And it went about as well for the Fighter. The Black Knight grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up, malevolent purple light filling the air around them as he slowly drained the vitality from the Fighter.

“Last chance,” the Black Knight offered. “I sense three lives somewhere on these grounds. Reveal them to me, and I will spare yours. They will serve better than one.”

The Fighter agreed, and the Black Knight let him go. Then, just as he pretended to point out where his friends were, he made one last strike at the Black Knight!

Natural 20. Critical hit!

At this point, I lifted up my sheet of notes, showing everyone how many hit points the Black Knight had. 8 HP, and the Fighter only had 3.

This attack would have to settle it, or the Fighter was dead.

Luckily, the Fighter would deal 2d8 + 5 damage on his attack thanks to the crit.

The Fighter rolled.

1, 1.

He did a grand total of 7 damage.

The Black Knight lived.

At this point, the Tiefling Bard finally revived. Still confused about what was going on, he pressed himself against the ice and hid, peeking out to see.

What he saw was the Black Knight lifting up the Fighter, and draining the last of his life away. The Fighter’s body slowly rotted until it collapsed in a pile of sand at the Black Knight’s feet. A pile of dust and treasure.

“I’m going to remember those double nat 1’s on my death bed,” the Fighter’s player said.

At this point, the Tiefling Bard used his trump card, Heat Metal. The spell superheated the Black Knight’s armor, and with an unholy scream the Black Knight combusted in its own armor, the steel suit it wore clattering to the ground, heated a molten red.

When the others finally awoke, they found the Fighter dead, and the Tiefling Bard donning the black armor and obsidian sword.

The Paladin was concerned, as it was hard to tell him apart from the Tieflings they had just fought earlier. (Cue jokes around the table that he’d become Arthas.)

At this point, they feared treading deeper into the temple. But on the other hand, they didn’t want to brave the blizzard outside. And they wanted revenge for the Fighter’s death. The Paladin didn’t want to leave any evil remaining either.

So they continued on.

They came upon a rune scribed wall to wall with Infernal runes, and four statues of Tiefling knights much like the one that had just been defeated.

Three of the statues were already destroyed, strewn as rubble through the room. One remained.

Reading the runes, the Tiefling saw that whatever had been said before had actually been scraped away, with a different mural inscribed over its place: a story of three Paladins, each with a blazing holy sword, fighting their way into the temple and eventually using the swords to seal a demon.

The Paladin speculated that maybe that was why the statues here were already destroyed, save the one. Then he used his Detect Evil and found the statue registered.

So he struck it, and chopped an arm off. That was when the statue stirred to life, raising a stone sword as tall as the Paladin was and cleaving through their ranks with it.

Luckily, the Paladin wasn’t afraid. With his own blade glowing bright, he smashed the statue to smithereens in one mighty blow that scattered it across the room.

“You’re making a face,” he told me as he looked across the table. “Look, Paladins are only good at one thing. I’m not trying to ruin the encounter.”

I didn’t actually care about that, there’s no such thing as ruining it. I was just surprised at the mountain of dice he was rolling for damage.

Under the statue’s pedestal they found a switch that would open the door out of the room, and so they forged ahead until they entered what looked like a chapel, a sanctuary.

It was a room filled with pews, with a glowing red summoning circle at the other end of the room. There, wreathed in a crimson glow, was the silhouette of a demon.

It had wings, hooved feet, claws as long as a man’s forearm, great horns, and red skin.

At each point of the summoning circle, North, South, East, and West, was a magical holy sword embedded into the ground. Four swords.

“WHO DARES INTRUDE UPON MY DOMAIN?” the demon bellowed, the torches around the sanctuary flaring to life, the walls themselves thrumming with its power.

“Okay, nobody talk to it, nobody listen to anything it says, nobody go inside,” the Paladin warned everyone.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending who you were, the Tiefling Bard stepped forward and spoke to the demon, posing as one of his followers.

“AH, SO YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME SACRIFICES. EXCELLENT,” the demon said.

From this, the Bard was able to gather enough information to realize that the demon was in fact sealed by those swords.

The demon did its best to tempt the party into pulling the swords; for each sword they pulled, the demon would truthfully answer any question they had with its well of knowledge gathered over the eons.

How to best their greatest enemies? How to best navigate this temple? How to achieve power infinite? It could all be theirs!

But nobody took the bait.

The Paladin and the party concluded that if the three Paladins from the past sealed this demon, it must be because the demon was too powerful for even they to defeat. So they didn’t want to risk freeing it, and they didn’t want to risk undoing the three Paladins’ handiwork. The demon said that they needed to pull out ALL the swords for it to be released, but it could easily be lying. What if only one sword was all it takes?

“We’re leaving,” the Paladin said, starting to usher out everyone.

“LEAVING SO SOON? THE PALADINS OF THIS AGE ARE SO MEEK COMPARED TO THEIR FOREFATHERS,” the demon mused. “TO FLEE WITH YOUR BACK TURNED TO THE EVILS YET REMAINING IN THIS TEMPLE. . .”

The Paladin froze. That’s right. He couldn’t just leave the rest of the temple’s evils standing.

There was still one room left to clear, behind the demon, a door leading into the unknown. However, it was locked.

The Paladin gave the demon a trade: if the demon would tell them how to get into that final room, the Paladin would come back and pull out a sword.

The demon gave them an incantation that would open that door, and after testing if it could open and close the door (it worked), the Paladin went inside with the rest of the party.

There they found a great skeletal king resting on a throne. This was some sort of record room. Lore books in Infernal lay abound. The Tiefling Bard read through the books and found that they contained the history of the place. Apparently the temple was created by Tiefling cultists, outcasts driven away for dabbling in the dark arts, who sought to call on demons to strengthen the infernal blood in their veins.

And so their ultimate goal was to summon a demon and use its patronage to attain fully demonic blood as well.

Given that the skeletal figure on the throne wore a crown, the party reasoned it must be the leader of the cultists. The Paladin’s senses detected that the figure was still active in some way, despite not responding to any stimulus.

Gathering up their greatest powers, the party launched an alpha strike on the skeleton king. In response, twin great green flames blazed to life in its empty eye sockets, and it rose to its feet with a groan. Up, and up, and up, until the 15 foot figure towered over the party.

Already damaged by the party’s ambush, the skeletal king explained this was the last room he had sealed himself away in to avoid the Paladins that had come to cleanse the temple. He was resting here, waiting for the day some adventurers with good hearts (Good aligned) would come upon him, as only they could pull the swords binding his demonic master.

He offered them power untold if they would join him in releasing the demon, but the party refused.

“If you will not serve in life, then you shall serve in death,” the skeleton king responded, raising up a great black blade with a skull carved into it.

“DARKNESS!” the room suddenly dropped into a magical blackness, extinguishing all light.

Nobody could see what was happening. They scrambled in the dark, but their flailing was for naught, and their blood ran cold as they could hear the skeletal king’s boots echoing off the temple grounds around them as it approached.

All of them realized that they had no way to fight back in complete darkness, and that they were totally screwed.

“Holy crap!” the Druid said then, “I can’t believe it! I never thought I’d have a chance to use this spell!”

Then he cast Daylight, and the darkness vanished.

With the darkness banished, the Paladin smashed the skeleton king so hard it vanished in a blinding pillar of light.

That left its loot: an amulet that could cast Darkness once a day, and the cursed sword that would revive any who it slew as zombies.

The Paladin cautioned against taking any of it, but the Tiefling Bard took the amulet, and the Barbarian took the cursed sword. (“I’m Chaotic Good, it’s okay.”)

“Maybe this isn’t the right party for me,” mused the Paladin to himself as he saw his comrades garb themselves in more and more sinister gear.

Triumphantly returning back to the demon’s quarters and preparing to leave, the Paladin of course had no intention to draw the sword binding the demon.

“I never said WHEN I’d pull out the sword,” the Paladin said gleefully.

However, as they turned to prance out of the room, they found that the entrance they’d first come through had been sealed. The door was shut.

“YOU ALSO NEVER ASKED FOR THE INCANTATION TO *THAT* DOOR,” the demon said, its laughter echoing off the walls. “YOU WILL HAVE ALL THE TIME YOU DESIRE.”

Everyone had a blank "welp" face.

The Paladin wondered why the demon hadn’t just trapped them right away if it could have. He speculated that the door shutting had nothing to do with the demon itself, and was simply a timed release, and the demon was merely taking advantage of the situation. After all, it was sealed and couldn't interact with the environment.

Either way, they were trapped, and food was dwindling, and their exhaustion was mounting. All efforts to find a lever or some way to open the door ended in failure.

The Bard went to sleep, and suddenly found himself dreaming of bringing powerful swords back to his king in his home country as a tribute.

The party realized the Bard was sleepwalking towards the swords sealing the demon, and only just barely stopped the Tiefling Bard in time before he pulled one out.

It seemed the Tiefling, having some demonic blood in him, was more susceptible to demonic influence than everyone else.

Now they couldn’t afford to let anyone sleep either lest something like that happen again.

It was only a matter of time until they cracked, and so the demon bided its time, waiting. . .

"I know what to do!" the Paladin's player exclaimed. "After the TPK, let's all come back here as Paladins!"

FIN

[mAc Chaos]

Oh yeah, and I made a map for it.

[Saiga]

Hah, that was a good story. I love that the Druid was surprised his Daylight spell would be useful.

Out of curiosity, how did you make that map? I am looking at map resources for my DMing.

[mAc Chaos]

I didn't even know he had Daylight. lool

There was some mapping application I downloaded ages ago on my other computer I used. It was only in beta. I can dig it up when I get back onto that computer.

Now they're all furiously debating in our game's facebook chat how to escape.

[Saiga]

By the way, has anyone used Fantasy Grounds? I heard it's an awesome tool, but it sounds insanely expensive

[GhostDIGIT]

That was amazing, mAc. So this is the session where that one guy rolled double 1's and where your question about the zombie making sword came from.

[black1blade]

That was an excellent read, sounds like a really awesome game and session.

[mAc Chaos]

That was amazing, mAc. So this is the session where that one guy rolled double 1's and where your question about the zombie making sword came from.

c h a o t i c
g o o d

[Saiga]

tbh i'd change him to lawful good for that objectively correct act

[GhostDIGIT]

c h a o t i c
g o o d

justice at any cost

[Draconic]

I miss D&D so much…
Some idiot threw away about a thousand dollars worth of paraphernalia that I had collected over approximately ten years. You cannot imagine how devastated I was.

[Saiga]

Somewhat related to the undead thing, the new group that just started running Lost Mine of Phandelver wanted to feed some dead goblins to the wolves chained up in the goblin cave. They then realized they had their own rations and just used those, but what kind of morality would you consider that action had they gone through with it?

Actually, my last group did something similar. They encountered a hungry nothic, and to avoid a fight told him where some Redbrand thugs were (who had been extorting the townsfolk for money, beating, kidnapping and murdering some of them) that the nothic could have an easier time killing. What would you think of this act?