Glendal Lorg in the City: Scene 8 and 9 (Finale)

Welcome, welcome, welcome!  Thank you for being here.  If you're here to hear the story of the mighty Elf Thief Glendal Lorg, then you've come to the right place.  The tale marches on, rapidly approaching its fateful climax.  If you're unfamiliar with the adventure so far, may I suggest catching up here?

Threat Level = 1

Heat = 2

Victory Points:  Glendal 9, Foe 1

Clues I have = 2

Glendal's current hit points; 8 of 8.

* * * * *

Scene 8:  Conflict:  "Discredit or frame an Actor ally of the foe."

Scene 9:  Action:  "Rally an Actor and their comrades to oppose the foe."

Even though Dassadal Ul was removed from the immediate equation, Glendal still felt a sense of urgency in finishing off his foe, Boon Kal.  Once word got back to the Cannibal Myrmidon from the Living Beach and head Priest of Morrigan, goddess of war, then Glendal's precarious situation would only get worse.

The Elf fretted as he made his way to the secret residence of Fargle Nex, Cleric of Cernunnos, god of virility.  He had so far spent most of all of two days to-ing and fro-ing with regard to this vicious game.  He desperately wanted to sink into soft cushions surrounded by soft Elf dancing girls, with a nice cold drink, but his temper and his temperament would never allow it.  Not until the work was finished!  And then....  And then, he promised himself, then he would reward himself.  There was still quite a lot of coin left over from his foray into the Fort of the Unholy Mound.  Much fine wine was in his future.  But not yet.

With Dassadal dead, and Mirthby Meem if not totally on his side then at least not opposing him, there were few threats actively working against him at the moment.  He crossed the dark, dirty, smelly streets of Sorcerer Crest as he retraced his steps to find Fargle Nex.  This time, while he still maintained his usual alertness, he knew the danger was minimal.

He arrived at the abode of the cleric, and knocked on the door with the pre-arranged signal.  The door opened and Fargle motioned him inside.

"What news, my friend?" he asked.

Glendal grinned.  "Much progress has been made.  I think I see a way to solve both your little problem as well as my own.  Is Immuth here, and do you still have the wedding statuette?"

The answer was yes to both questions, and Glendal quickly laid out his intentions.

Fargle was hesitant.  "It's audacious.  Is it too much?"

"Audacious, yes, but also the bolder the better," the Elf replied.  "This is your greatest weapon, and he will have no recourse."  He looked intently at the cleric with earnestness.  "Your love for your woman is the key.  If it were false, it would fail, but being true, it not only can succeed, it must.  He will have no response that can save him."

"Very well," Fargle sighed.  "Your advice has been instrumental so far.  We will follow you.  Wait here while I fetch them both."

Moments later, Raglia Bazh, now the married Immuth Nex, swept gracefully into the room, accompanied by floral scents.  She greeted him with a smile, and one finger tweaked a strand of hair away from her ear.  Glendal couldn't fail to notice the slight point at the tip; she had Elf blood!  Well, that would explain her elegant movements, he thought.

While Fargle went to retrieve the idol, Immuth moved closer to Glendal.  She placed her hand gently on his arm.  "Thank you for helping us.  You've been so very kind."

Glendal shrugged, stepping away from her.  "It's nothing.  You're lucky my reasons happened to align with Fargle's.  Ever since the Fort of the Unholy Mound, he's been bothering me."

She smiled knowingly.  "You put up a brave front, Master Thief, but I know better.  You're not the hardened brigand you pretend to be."

Glendal's reply was cut short by Fargle's return.  "I have it, here in this satchel."  He put out his hand to Immuth.  "Come, my dear, let us claim our destiny."

* * * * *

A short while later, the three conspirators stood before the entrance to The Knight & Knave, Sorcerer Crest's poshest watering hole for the elite.  Two burly bouncers guarded the door, both of whom looked to have more than a trace of Orc blood in their veins.  Over the archway were stone-carved exotic weaponry, filigreed in gold leaf.

Fargle looked worriedly from the bouncers to Glendal.  "I don't know anyone here.  Will they let us in?  I don't want to endanger Immuth."

The Elf put a hand up to stop the cleric.  "Worry not, libidinous one.  Trust me."  With a sure step, he approached the guards.  They regarded him impassively, their hands resting lightly on their truncheons.  "Greetings, my fine fellows," Fargle heard him say, "please to tell Lazorz that Lalifax sends his salutations via my own self, Glendal."

The two burly toughs shared a quick glance, nodded once, and then stepped aside.  Glendal threw a quick wink over his shoulder and motioned for the couple to come over.  Fargle and Immuth tried not to show their nervousness as they passed between the guards.  With one last side-eye, Glendal followed them inside.

Immuth leaned close to the Elf and whispered, "How did you do that?"

Glendal laughed softly in reply.  "Everyone thinks Lazorz Ryz the Hexed Warrior from the Transformed Library owns both this establishment as well as the lesser Captain & Brigand, which I often frequent.  But very few know he is actually a twin, whose brother is named Lalifax.  His identity is so secret even I don't know his extended name.  But," he added, "I do *know* his name.  It allows one certain...privileges.  In particular, there is a back room at the Captain & Brigand where...."  He stopped abruptly, recalling to whom he was speaking, after seeing her interested expression.  "Never mind.  Now to find Boon Kal."

They entered the esteemed social club's main venue area.  It was a large, slightly ovoid room with rounded corners, teeming with tables and chairs.  Candelabra depended from the lofty ceiling, shedding a golden glow over the inhabitants.  Elegant statues and carvings decorated every niche and sconce, gleaming with expensive gilt.

The patrons were equally impressive, each outfitted with their most elaborate jewelry and clothing, every one attempting to outshine his or her neighbors.  There were the usual wealthy guests, appearing every night, the richest of Sorcerer Crest's society.  However, wealth alone is not the only source of interest in the world, but those who wielded power were also in attendance:  the Constabulary leadership, the Merchant Guild overseers, representatives of the twenty-five oligarchs (if not the oligarchs themselves), and even Mirthby Meem occasionally.  But most importantly for the trio was Boon Kal, sitting with a lofty insouciance, flaunting his command over the other clerics of Sorcerer Crest's religions.

And there were many other clerics, priests, monks and churchmen in attendance, by the seeming dozens.  Glendal suddenly had an inkling to change vocations and take up the Cloth; these fellows appeared to be making out quite well.

The room was crowded to excess, the buzz of conversation louder than an easy tête-à-tête would afford.  Laughter flowed up suddenly from one corner, drowning out the thin whine of the musicians at the far end, then was itself drowned by another swirl of chatter.

Their entry went unnoticed at first, and then a maître d' sidled over.  "Good evening, m'lords and lady," he cooed.  "Welcome to our humble establishment.  Do you have reservations?" he asked, looking with a jaundiced eye at Glendal's dingy, rather dirty armor.  "Erm, we do have a dress code here...."

"Oh my no," Glendal replied in a loud, carrying voice, "we have no reservations, nor are we expected, but I can assure you," even louder, "that Boon Kal will be most interested in seeing us."

Conversation in the immediate area dimmed in response to his voice, but the rest of the room carried on normally.  It would take more than that to get the result he wanted.

The steward began gesturing for the guards, recognizing that the Elf was up to something, but it was too late.  With a lithe leap, the Thief vaulted onto the nearest table, scattering plates and tableware in every direction.  The surprised guests flung themselves back in shock.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" Glendal shouted, feet dancing a tattoo on the table, "lords and ladies, gentlemen and honored guests, may I have your attention please!  I have something important to tell you about Boon Kal."  When the guards started to approach too close, Glendal leaped to the next table, breaking china and glasses.  The guards were unable to reach him each time due to the patrons sitting there.  Women screamed and men were dumbfounded.  Silence descended on the room, with the exception of tinkling crystal being crushed under the Elf's feet.

Across the tables, Boon Kal stood up angrily.

Behind him, Mirthby Meem squatted in a pile of cushions, a pensive, anticipatory look on his face.

"I'll only bother you for a trice," Glendal continued, "mostly I want to impart one thing to the world at large."  He dance to the next table.  Chairs were flung backwards, spilling their occupants to the floor, blocking the guards yet again.  "And it is this:  Boon Kal has stymied and squashed the wishes of too many for too long.  Not only that, he has tried to kill to keep his malevolent grip.  Only I have prevented an innocent death!"

There were audible gasps at this claim.  Most did not know what to make of this light footed interruption; was he serious?  Was he demented?

"Only his own shame and humiliation of his own life choices guides him now!" Glendal yelled.  "Because he chose poorly and has been miserable his whole life, he must make those below him miserable!  For no reason!"

Another leap, another table.  More crashes, more screams.  Each table took the Elf closer to Boon Kal.

"Even now, he seeks to thwart true love, by a cleric who is not even of Kal's own order!"  There were shouts of astonishment.  "I know!  I agree, it's shameful."  Glendal waved an arm in the direction of Fargle and Immuth, who had been standing quietly and even timidly where he had left them.  "This man you all know, he is Fargle Nex the Polygamist from the Accursed Island, Cleric of Cernunnos!  But he is a Polygamist no more, and soon to be no longer a Cleric of Cernunnos, either!  He has forsworn them both to instead pledge his undying love to the lady by his side, she whom I helped save when Boon Kal would have killed her, Ragliah Bazh, the Scribe from the Fallen Castle!"

There were murmurs and looks of concern that passed between the other clerics in attendance.  Some appeared outraged, but others were obviously sympathetic.

Boon Kal shook his fist at the Elf.  "Lies!  All lies!" he shouted, moving closer, stomping on his wooden leg.  "Fargle is a madman!  He would shatter all the norms of Sorcerer Crest for a slut!"

Fargle's eyes blazed with anger at the insult.  "Slut!?  She is no slut, you despot!  And what 'norms'?  The only norms are the ones you have insisted upon for your whole wasted life!"

Glendal leapt to another table.  Alert waiters adroitly removed the glassware before it could be broken.  He danced in a circle on one foot.  "And how many of you, my fine fellows sitting there in your religious robes, have wished to marry?  More importantly, how many of you ALREADY HAVE?  Is it not barbarous that you must live a lie, all because one man made a bad decision before most of you were even born?"

There were more shouts of outrage, but instead of being directed at the Elf, they seemed to be directed at Boon Kal.

"Then know this, you Teachers of Truth," the Thief continued, "there is one among you who is not afraid to tell the world he has married!  Fargle Nex, show them!"  With a grand gesture, the Cleric of Cernunnos drew out the marriage statuette, that simple wooden idol, plated with pewter.

"This is our public proclamation of our wedding!" Fargle crowed.  "Raglia Bazh is now my wife, Immux Nex!  Now my brothers, live no more in secret shame!  Cast off your shackles of shame and join me in living like free men, only shackled by our vows!  For me, I leave my service of Cernunnos, but you have no need to!  Live like men!"

The volume of confusion grew louder, as the various factions separated themselves.  Around Boon Kal circulated the stodgy elders who valued tradition first; next to Fargle swarmed those who sympathized with his predicament, or were in the same situation themselves.  The tumult continued; tables were overturned, those without concern in the matter retreated away from the scrum.  The guards and waiters milled about uncertainly, not sure of who to support or punish.

The situation was reaching its crisis point.  Boon Kal was shouting, attempting to rally the recalcitrant clerics back to his side, the guards were starting to press in on the more disruptive elements, and Fargle was equally involved in making himself heard.  Fists were raised.  Voices turned more to anger than argument.  The mood was worsening.

Glendal threw himself back into the center of the controversy.  Picking up a silver platter, he banged the hilt of his knife against it repeatedly like a gong.  As the ringing died away, the crowd quieted briefly.  "Fighting about this will achieve nothing!" he shouted.  "The deed is already done, and none can call it back.  The only thing left now," and here he looked directly at Mirthby Meem, "is to move forward with the way things are going to be from now on!  For those who can see the future can control it, and he who controls a thing extracts the opportunity from that thing!"

With a heave, Mirthy levered himself up from the cushions.  As he passed near Glendal, he said, just loud enough for the Elf to hear, "You move quickly, Lorg.  Perhaps too quickly, but let no one ever say Mirthby Meem doesn't know how to seize an opportunity."  Then, plowing his bulk through the throng surrounding Boon Kal, he put his arm around the priest.  "My old friend and mentor, let me help you today..." and began to guide him away.

With one last look around, Glendal stepped off the table and began to thread his way back to Fargle.  There were a great number of supporters surrounding the cleric, each of whom was trying to both congratulate him and at the same time tell him his own story.  Glendal caught Fargle's eye and pointed at the exit.

"My friends!" Fargle called.  "Let us leave this place and find our own place to celebrate.  Come with me!"

As the crowd straggled out into the evening streets, certain individuals began singing, and from somewhere someone else found a musical instrument and began playing music.  Soon the whole congregation was laughing and humming along as Glendal steered them towards the Captain & Brigand.  He felt it was the least he could do to help offset the cost of his behavior at The Knight & Knave.  Soon, much coin would be spent among new friends, many of whom had gone to find their brides in order to celebrate together in public for the first time.

For the redoubtable Elf Thief, he was content to make his way to the back room, where he knew a particularly nubile Elf dancing girl he favored was to be found.  The night stretched out before him with much promise, but he knew the morrow would bring change.  He suspected he wasn't in too much favor at the moment with many in Sorcerer Crest, and no matter how much Mirthby Meem and the Phantom Cabal profited from these events, he thought it best to make himself scarce for a while.  He had always wanted to find out what was on the other side of those hills just outside the city.  Tomorrow sounded like a good time to learn.

* * * * *

Scene 8:  Conflict:  "Discredit or frame an Actor ally of the foe."

Scene 9:  Action:  "Rally an Actor and their comrades to oppose the foe."

Originally, I had these two scenes separated but after writing the fiction above, I realized they were two halves of the same event.  Scene 9 is basically the winning finale.

Having demoted Dassadal Ul to the status of minion, this by default made Boon Kal the main foe.  Apparently he really just doesn't want clerics to get married and has been running the show this whole time.  Huh, who knew.  Even though the directive says "an Actor ally of the foe" I twisted this to mean "the Foe himself."  Seemed more appropriate.

This appeared to be a pretty straightforward situation that required very little in the way of game play.  The rules state, "By default, each scene requires that your hero succeed on a trait check based on whatever kind of situation they are attempting to master.  The difficulty for the check is 9 plus half the Threat of the adventure, rounded down.  If you succeed, you win the scene and gain a Victory point."  You may recall I started this adventure with Glendal at level 1, so the Threat level has been 1 rounded down to 0 when necessary.  But then I leveled Glendal up to level 2, feeling it was the proper time; however, I never increased the Threat level equally.  So this whole time Glendal has been getting off pretty easy!  I didn't really put the pieces together until fairly late in the game, and now I truthfully don't feel like changing it.  Is it too easy for Glendal?  Possibly.  But whenever dice are involved, nothing is certain.

The long and short of all this is that Glendal only had to succeed at a Check of 9 in order to win Scene 8.  I rolled 2d8 + Trait (Streetwise) + CHA = (8 + 3) + 2 + 1 = 14.

Technically, that's all that's required to win the Scene.  Obviously, the fiction demands more information.

I rolled on the Urban Location table, Elite d20 = 17 = "Social Club."

Somehow, Glendal has to confront and discredit Boon Kal in front of his peers at a Social Club.  The answer was obvious once I stopped to think about it, as shown in the fiction above.

In order to win Scene 9 and win the "game," I again only had to succeed on a Check.  I rolled 2d8 the same as for Scene 8:  (8 + 7) + 2 + 1 = 18.  A success!

Somewhere in my notes, I'm certain I intended Raglia Bazh to be Elvish, but when I introduced her a few Scenes ago I made her Human.  Today, I split the difference.

Also, I only just realized that I have another NPC character with the last name of Meem:  Essem Meem from Scene 2.  Somehow I managed to not remember that at all when I created Mirthby Meem.  I guess two people can have the same last name and not be related (obviously it happens in real life, but always seems odd in fiction), but I made a specific exception with the last name Nex, kinda coerced the whole direction of the plot.  Oh well.  I had not been keeping a character record because I never thought I would have this problem.  The Wampus Country Name Generator has 100 entries each for first and last names.  It's pretty wild I've rolled the same name twice, twice.  Life and Art, don'cha'know.

At the end of Scene 8:

Threat Level = 1
Heat = 2
Victory Points:  Glendal 10, Foe 0
Clues I have = 2
Glendal's current hit points; 8 of 8.

At the end of Scene 9:  I rolled 1d10 vs Heat (2) = 2.  "If the total is equal or less than the community's Heat, your hero needs to either move on or run an adventure where the Plot revolves around coping with the consequences of your notoriety."  I think Glendal will be seeking calmer waters soon, which I had in mind anyhow, but it's funny I rolled a 2.

Glendal wins the Urban Adventure!  Hooray!  "After a winner is determined, subtract the opponent's Victory points from the hero's total.  If the score is 5 or more, it is a Complete Victory."  I think 10 to 0 qualifies.

Threat Level = 1
Heat = 2 (probably more like 3 or 4 by now)
Victory Points:  Glendal 10, Foe 0
Clues I have = 2
Glendal's current hit points; 8 of 8.

One last look at Glendal, mainly so I can find it again if/when I continue from here:

STR 16 +2

DEX 16 +2

CON 16 +2

INT 11 +0

WIS 14 +1

CHA 15 +1

Leather Armor AC 7 + DEX = AC 5.  Attack Bonus +2.  Primary Trait:  Adventuring Thief +4.  Other Traits:  Elven Senses +1; Former Fighter past life +1; Keen Danger Sense +1; Streetwise Info Gatherer +2.  Nothing else really changed, except he has a metric ton of loot from his dungeon crawl.

Did I do everything correctly?  Probably not.  Was it close enough without compromising either the story or the rules?  Probably.  Did I enjoy myself?  Absolutely!

The actual playing of the mechanics are fairly straightforward and quick.  It is, as always, the writing of the narrative that is time consuming.  But to me, that is the only way to really tie the two things together.

* * * * *

Thanks for reading!  Will more adventures be coming soon?  I don't know.  I might take a short break (10 years?  I hope not) and play some tabletop miniature games instead.  Check out my other blogs (sadly neglected, I know) if nothing pops up here anytime soon.

Thanks again!