Welcome, weary traveler! Step inside and find rest, solace and perhaps a story. What story, you ask? Why, the tale of the mighty Elf Thief Glendal Lorg and his foray in the city of Sorcerer Crest. 'Tis truly a tale still being told (and still being written, even now) using the Scarlet Heroes rules from Sine Nomine Publishing. Where stand we in the chronology of events? Why, you only have need to go here to find out.
And now, come, sit and listen to Scene 6.
Heat = 0
Victory Points: Glendal 6, Foe 2
Clues I have = 3
Glendal's current hit points; 8 of 8.
* * * * *
Scene 6: Action: "Pass an incriminating or disgraceful Clue to an Actor who can make sure important people learn of the evidence."
Glendal Lorg was a fairly young (by Human standards) and relatively inexperienced Thief. He more often than not operated under his own code of conduct, which if he or anyone had examined very closely would see that it leant more in the favor of Honor than Corruption, more in the direction of Integrity than Duplicitousness. That the definition of what constituted Honor and Integrity were of his own devising was irrelevant to him; they were simply how Things Ought To Be, he felt. Much of this included the idea that he was going to get rich, and if someone was careless enough to leave something valuable unguarded, then it was obviously meant to be the Elf's. But similarly if he was thwarted by a well-conceived trap or protection, then it's all fair play at that point, and he would wish the conscientious person well.
Generally speaking, then, Glendal's morals did not particularly align with the Phantom Cabal's. The Cabal was the epitome of a Thieves' Guild, as imagined by someone who thought they knew everything about thieving. They demanded an interest in any crime, they usually did not permit just any Thief to roam at will, and they provided the customary "protection" to high-ranking and wealthy patrons. They tended to look with disapprobation on any "unsanctioned" crimes, and it was not unknown for willful Thieves to disappear in the middle of the night, especially if they were seen spending their ill-gotten gains too viscerally.
Any strong organization needs a hierarchy with a similarly strong hand ruling from the top, and the Phantom Cabal was no exception. The guild had long been ruled by Mirthby Meem the Handsome Mason from the Unknowable Outpost. Mirthby was a perfect example of the law of Counter-Intuitiveness (the only law he recognized, other than his own): he was fairly young for someone who ran the largest Thieves consortium in one of the largest cities in the land; he was comfortably married, and was rumored to never partake of the harlots some of his underlings controlled; and despite a vigorous and energetic physicality, he was loathsome-ly fat. This tended to give him what might be called a "bad attitude," by which he attempted (with mixed success) to conceal both his wrathful outlook and his obesity by wearing only the finest clothes.
He would frequently be seen in many of the city's prime establishments, feigning interest in the rich and powerful while simultaneously scheming for any personal advantage he could wrangle from them. A slip of the tongue, a hint of indiscretion, and suddenly they would find themselves in his power. Blackmail was too harsh of a word, oh my no, they simply would owe the wrathful whale a "favor." For he was extremely wrathful to any who tried to outfox him, or dared to dig into his past, or attempted to destroy the incriminating evidence before he could use it against them. Then the gloves came off and members of the Cabal's famed (and feared) Effacers would pay them a visit, at the most inopportune time. Rarely did the victims die, unless it was from shame and embarrassment; Mirthby took much more pleasure from exposing their foibles while still being able to bleed them dry in the future; after all, dead men pay nothing for keeping secrets.
Glendal had met Mirthby in the past, when he first arrived in Sorcerer Crest, and took "employment" in the Phantom Cabal. After a few simple jobs to find out if he was suitable (he was), he was given fairly free reign in the city, with all the usual restrictions: the Cabal always wanted it's cut, and no jobs bigger than a smash-and-grab without prior approval. Certain officials were always easy to get to turn a blind eye for the big jobs; one might say it was easier to get permission than it was to get forgiveness.
So when Glendal had set out on his own to the Fort of the Unholy Mound, without prior approval, and had returned with a great amount of gold and treasure, he had given so little thought to the potential ramifications of being caught as for it to be nonexistent. Later, after he had returned to the city and had been spending and spending and spending, the idea did occur to him that perhaps he should be a trifle more careful. But by then he was caught up in the whole Fargle Nex wedding business. And then Dassadal Ul made it personal by trying to have the Elf murdered.
The only reason Glendal could think of for why Dassadal tried to kill him was that the Vainglorious Coachman didn't want the Cabal to know what he was up to. Stealing the wedding statuette was, in itself, a minor theft, really, about which the guild would not care. But the ruckus it would cause when Fargle made it known that he was forsaking his priestly vows -- and encouraging other Clerics to do likewise -- turned a small event into a major kerfuffle. Add to that the fact that the whole thing was initiated by Boon Kal, the Cannibal Myrmidon from the Living Beach and head Priest of the goddess of war, Morrigan, and you had the makings of a right brouhaha with a capital Brou. The entire Priestly order in the city could be sent into convulsions overnight, and with their demise the rest of the oligarchical rulers might follow. There were said to be twenty-five co-equal leaders of Sorcerer Crest, and many of them were of the Clerical persuasion, representing the gamut of gods worshipped in the city. If enough of them were deposed, for any reason, the rest might not be able to stop the seizing of power by non-oligarchs. Any crime of this potential magnitude could only be attempted with the sanction of the Phantom Cabal, due to the potential chaotic fallout.
All these details were swirling around the Elf's brain as he made his way to the Cabal's headquarters. The fact that it was where the thieves' guild made it's home was common knowledge, there was nothing secret about it. It spoke to the power that Mirthby Meem maintained in the city that he felt no need to hide.
There were, of course, barriers and obstacles, guards and watchwords to be passed, before Glendal could be permitted to enter the Inner Sanctum of the Handsome Mason. These were accomplished in short order, Glendal being a Thief in good standing, after all, at least as far as he knew. Nevertheless, especially after his embarrassment at the city guards' gate, Glendal kept on his toes, paying particular attention to the positioning of the various functionaries and sentinels. Watching his surroundings with his Elven senses, and more importantly his keen danger senses, the Elf made sure he always knew the quickest way out of a room.
When he finally entered the cloistered office of Mirthby Meem, his inner caution ratcheted up even higher. The bloated mogul was ensconced in a vast pile of cushions, delicately sipping from a tiny teacup, pinky finger ludicrously extended. His fat but otherwise handsome face turned toward the Elf as he stepped into the room, and he boomed out, "Why Glendal Lorg, I've been expecting you! Where's my money?"
Glendal gave no reaction and carefully kept his face completely featureless. For the briefest moment, he wondered how everyone seemed to know of his whereabouts despite his best efforts: Essem Meem had warned Aster Doop; and Dassadal Ul had sent assassins to the city gate....
But then Mirthby threw back his head and guffawed at his joke. "Har haw, that always gets the new guys!" He motioned a be-ringed hand to a nearby chair. "Come, sit down, sit down. To what do I owe this pleasure, hm? Contemplating a villainous scheme with rich rewards? Tell me, tell me. We have yet to see the greatness I expect in you."
Glendal perched lightly on the edge of the seat, his Elf vanity not permitting him to sink into its deeply piled cushions. Total relaxation was best accomplished alone, or with nubile dancing girls. He felt it best to get right to the point. "I've heard of something I think you should know about," he began, "but I wonder if you might already know."
It suddenly occurred to him that, if he were wrong about Dassadal Ul being out on his own, and his theft was in fact approved by the Cabal, then Glendal might very well never leave this building alive. He silently cursed his own naïveté. He would try to remain as neutral as possible until he could determine which way the wind was blowing.
Mirthby sat up a little straighter -- no easy task in the voluminous cushions -- and set the teacup down. "You have my attention," he said.
"You know, I think, Dassadal Ul the Vainglorious Coachman from the Primordial Road?" Glendal began. "One of your many...workers."
"Ah, yes, he of the gem-encrusted eyepatch," Mirthby murmured with a snarky smile. "A tough with an air of greatness, seen by himself alone. Very good at roughing up those that need it but not the brightest torch in the dungeon. What about him?"
"He appears to be involved with Boon Kal, the Cannibal Myrmidon from the Living Beach and head Priest of Morrigan," Glendal said, carefully, watching Mirthby's face for his reaction. "I am wondering, due to recent events that Dassadal has involved me in, if you authorized what he is doing with Boon Kal."
Mirthby's round face retained it blandness, simply lifting one eyebrow. "Oh indeed? Boon Kal, you say?" He paused, then said, "No, my fine Elf, I know nothing of this, either officially or unofficially. What exactly is he up to?"
In a few succinct phrases, Glendal laid out Dassadal's and Kal's plan to steal the wedding statuette, ending with, "...and I need not tell you the how the peace of the city would be, shall we say, disturbed."
Mirthby's face darkened as the Thief explained. "I do so hate it when those in my employ don't know their place," he grumbled. Reaching next to him, he picked up and rang a small silver bell. Moments later, a servant entered. "Send for my stenographer," he instructed.
Glendal waited while Mirthby parsed what he would do next. The ugly look of anger was deeply unsettling. After a minute or two, the Handsome Mason's face cleared, and he smiled at the Elf. "Why, Glendal, my dear fellow, you seem to be in the know on some very interesting things. I may need to keep my eye on you a trifle closer." He picked up his teacup and sipped. "Dassadal will need to be...reminded of his position." He grinned over the lip of the cup. "One thing I do require of my subordinates is their submission to our organization's overall plans. When individuals, however clever or well-meaning, go galivanting off on their own, they endanger everything we've accomplished here." He favored the Thief with a penetrating look. "I'm sure you understand what I mean, of course?"
Glendal could do no more than incline his head in acknowledgment. Did this mean the Cabal did not know of his own acquisitions? Perhaps it was just a general reminder. It was impossible to tell, he decided. He pressed on. "Did I mention that Dassadal tried to have me killed?"
Mirthby waved his hand dismissively. "Oh tush, 'tis simply the way of our lives. You would have done the same, I think, only you would have succeeded." He winked conspiratorially. "And one good turn deserves another, don't you know. Allow me to...reprimand Dassadal for you. That way we kill two birds with one stone, in a manner of speaking."
"And the statuette? Will you permit Boon Kal to impose his will on Fargle Nex?" Glendal asked.
Mirthby pursed his lips in thought. "Hmm, I don't really care whether or not this Fargle person weds, or quits his priesthood, or is swept away in a flood. I mostly care that underlings don't undertake ventures of this magnitude without permission. You are right, if this Nex's wedding goes through unimpeded, there will be much civil unrest..." he leaned forward eagerly, "and that means Opportunity! This may be the biggest event of the last decade, a chance to swell our coffers and tighten our grip on these hypocrites. Yes, yes, indeed, I will send a little missive to my good friend Boon Kal, and apply a little pressure, pull a few strings, as the saying goes." He lowered his voice and stage-whispered, "You may not know this, but I was once an Acolyte of Morrigan. Many moons ago." He chuckled. "I know a few things about Boon Kal. Let me have a talk with him and I think he can be made to see reason. You may tell your Cleric friend his wedding may proceed!"
Glendal felt it wiser to not correct the Cabal master that the wedding was already accomplished, that this was simply the announcement. "A distinction without a difference," he thought.
Just then the stenographer entered, bearing pens and parchment. "Take a letter to Boon Kal," Mirthby instructed him, then waved a fat hand to Glendal. "Farewell, my fine Elf Thief. I'm sure we shall meet again soon!"
With a sense of relief, Glendal accepted his dismissal. Yet he didn't feel truly safe until he breathed the outside air from across the street.
* * * * *
I decided to do an Action Scene next, so spent 1 Clue, feeling that "things needed to happen." I had already decided to go to the head of the Phantom Cabal (the Thieves' Guild in Sorcerer Crest) and find out if Dassadal Ul was a loose cannon or under orders. I did not even pause to consider how dangerous this might be if, in fact, the Cabal was in charge of this nefarious plot. To "succeed" I had to pass a Check with a Difficult of 9. I rolled 2d8 + CHA modifier + "Streetwise Info Gatherer" trait = [7 + 2] + 1 + 2 = 12 vs 9. I win the Challenge so gain 1 VP.
I go to see the boss, who I create using the, as usual, Wampus Country Name Generator: Mirthby Meem the Handsome Mason from the Unknowable Outpost. To flesh him out, I roll on the various charts in Scarlet Heroes.
Actors & NPCs: d8 =7, d10 = 2 = "Social club leader." Seems appropriate.
Race = 1 = Human
So we have the leader of the Thieves who blackmails, schemes, was involved in a dire crime, fat but dresses nice, with a bad temper, and is willing to destroy evidence. I mean.... Could it be more perfect? Should I have called him "Kingpin"?
Glendal wants to know if Dassadal is working for Mirthby or if he is out on his own. I ask the Oracle, and since I don't know either, I assign it an "Unknown" 50/50 level. d20 = 5 = "No."
Does Mirthby Meem even know what Dassadal is up to? Oracle, 50/50 = d20 = 4 = "No."
How does Mirthby Meem feel about this, now that he knows someone is working outside the Cabal? I roll on the "Oraclular Adjectives and Motivations" chart, 1d20 x 1d20 = 8, 18 = "Submission." I interpret that to mean he expects Dassadal to toe the line of the Cabal.
How can Mirthby Meem help? I roll on the "Quick Character Generation" sub-chart "Relationships" = d100 = 72 = "Once a temple acolyte." I take this to mean that, against all odds, the head of the Cabal was once in the religious order. Perhaps he knows Boon Kal and can pull a few strings.
Just as important to Glendal right now, does Mirthby Meem know Glendal has been out solo-ing and not giving his due to the Cabal? I figure with "all that loot" he brought back, some word might have reached Meem's ears. I ask the Oracle as "Unlikely" = d20 = 10 = "No." This is a true "no," but at 11 it becomes "No, but," so for funzies I roll 1d6 on the "No, but" table. 1d6 = 1 = "A twist to the relationship between people in the situation." This I take to mean, quite obviously, "If I ever found out you were out on your own and not giving the Cabal it's proper cut...[threat hangs ominously in the air]."
I win the Scene. I rolled 1d10 vs the total number of Investigations + Action Scene (6) = 8, so the enemy does not receive a VP.
Heat = 0
Victory Points: Glendal 8, Foe 2
Clues I have = 2
Glendal's current hit points; 8 of 8.
Thanks for reading. Scene 7 coming soon!
