Glendal Lorg in the City, Scene 3

Hi.  It's been a while, hasn't it?  I finally got tired of not knowing what Glendal was going to do, and how he was going to stymie Dassadal's dirty plan to steal the wedding statuette.  Believe it or not, it gnawed on me all these years.  But I didn't feel up to the task to take it on.  I felt absolutely blocked up, mentally.

Finally, something changed.  Let's find out, together, what happens next!

As a reminder, I'm playing a solo Urban Adventure using the Scarlet Heroes rules from Sine Nomine Publishing.

Threat Level = 1

Heat = 0

Victory Points:  Glendal 2, Them 0

Clues I have = 2

Glendal's current hit points: 4 of 6.

One of the first things I did, upon returning to the game and having had a fresh read-through of the rules, was to level Glendal up to a Level 2 Thief.  Previously, I had been perfectly happy to stay at first level as that's where a lot of fun is, and quite frankly I simply forgot to level him up when I began the Urban Adventure.  Here are his stats:

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.  Yes, his stats are...impressive.  I'm here to have fun, not play some unsalvageable character that dies in his first outing.

* * * * *

Scene 3:  Investigation:  "Trick an Actor into revealing a Clue. Roll a die; on an odd result you face a Fight whether or not you succeed on the check."

It seemed to Glendal Lorg that the obvious next step would be for him to go to Fargle Nex's abode and find out directly from the Cleric of Cernunnos what was going on.  Time appeared to be of the essence, since so much of his movements had already been either anticipated or reported on.  As much as the Elf would have liked to spend an hour or two holed up with a lithe Elf dancing girl to assuage his hurts, he did not think he had the time to spare.

A quick visit to the local Cernunnos shrine, and a gold piece in the palm of the attendant, got him Nex's home location.  Interestingly, it was in a part of town closer to the districts of "ill repute" than might be expected of a ranking priest.  Then again, thought the Thief, considering Cernunnos was the god of virility, maybe it made perfect sense.  Although if what Glendal knew of Fargle's love for his apparent-bride was true, the Priest might have a more difficult time remaining a polygamous Cleric of the cult.  He might have a hard time, the Elf smirked to himself, then he scowled.  Human humor was insinuating itself into his mind.  Very distasteful.

The cautious Thief stood in the shadows across the street from the home.  His keen danger sense warned him not to go bursting in, and his wariness was rewarded.  Shortly after he arrived, a second group made its way through the street:  three Human toughs and a finely-dressed one-legged older man who limped with a wooden leg, who was obviously a priest of some sort.  The shadows made it so that Glendal did not recognize the heraldic device on the man's tabard.

The group knocked and the door was opened by Fargle himself.  After a brief welcome, the men entered and the door closed.  Immediately, Glendal slipped across the street to listen at the door.  Unfortunately it was a stout wooden one and resisted his attempts to eavesdrop.  So instead, he did what came naturally now that the situation had changed:  he opened it and stepped inside.

To say his sudden appearance was unexpected was an understatement.  He took in the scene:  Fargle was demonstrably upset, in the act of gesticulating feverishly; the new priest was looking dour; and the three toughs were caught completely unawares and reacted by drawing protectively about the older man.

The tableau froze as everyone turned to look at the newcomer.  Glendal instantly sized up the toughs as capable men (one more so than the others), and pigeon-holed the new priest:  uncommonly old, even for one of his position; someone who obviously loved public acclaim, based on his finery; yet, a miserable old sourpuss.  A closer look at his regalia showed him to be a Priest of the goddess of war, Morrigan.  What in the world was he doing at Fargle Nex's home?

Glendal hazarded a guess but Fargle spoke first.  "Why, Glendal, my friend, what do you here?"

The new priest scowled first at Glendal, then at Fargle.  "What is the meaning of this intrusion?  Nex, is this some sort of trick?  An ambush?"

Fargle hastened to calm the man.  "Nothing of the sort, Boon Kal.  I am as much surprised as are you.  Allow me to make introductions.  This is Glendal Lorg, a friend who helped me much in a recent endeavor.  Glendal, this is...."

"I know who Boon Kal is," Glendal bluffed, having only just now heard the name.  He hurried on with his guess.  "I was sent here by Dassadal.  Dassadal Ul the Vainglorious Coachman from the Primordial Road, to be more specific.  He told me I'd find you here."

The sudden light of recognition in Boon Kal's eyes told Glendal everything he needed to know:  Boon Kal and Dassadal Ul were in on the intended theft together.  Perhaps Boon Kal hired Dassadal, perhaps it was more mutual; the details were unimportant at the moment.  But as suddenly as the light appeared in his eyes, it was smothered just as quickly as suspicion arose.

"Dassadal Ul?" the war priest said.  "Never heard of him.  Kunstanticus," he gestured to the taller of the thugs, "remove this insect."

With a ringing song, Glendal's sword flew from its scabbard.  There was little room in the entryway area and almost at once he was surrounded.  The dried blood from his earlier fights still crusted his clothing and he knew this might be more challenging than he wanted.  But now was too late to stop.  He tried his usually good move of feinting and stabbing at the leader, who surprised him by slapping it away and just as quickly stabbed back at him.  With luck, it deflected off his leather armor.  A quick jab with his off-hand knife took the first of the thugs down.  In that moment of distraction, the tough named Kunstanticus, who was truly a brute of a fellow, zinged in for a well-placed blow.  Glendal disemboweled the second thug, clenched his arm around the wound, and gave all of his attention to Kunstanticus.  Glendal had hoped that seeing his two compatriots die at his blade would make the brute think better of things, but he was too eager to impress his priestly employer, and so Glendal struck him down with one last mighty move.

As the bodyguard fell to the floor, gurgling in his lifeblood, Glendal breathed a sigh of relief.  For all of his bravado, he was very nearly on his last legs.  With as steady a hand as possible, he pointed his sword at Boon Kal.

The aged priest completely ignored him.  Instead, he addressed himself to Fargle.  "Don't be a fool, Nex," he whined.  "Call off this ridiculous wedding before word gets out, before it's too late."

Fargle seemed calmer now.  "I won't do it, Boon.  You don't know the truth of it all.  I'm renouncing my clerical vows for her sake and that's all there is to it."

Boon Kal was unfazed.  "You'll ruin us all, Nex," he said.  "The Priestly class isn't normally allowed these sorts of things.  I myself would have married long ago but it's just not proper!  It can't be done!"

"That's your own fault, Boon," Fargle argued.  "You had the same choice then as I do now.  You could have been happy all your life with the woman you loved, instead of fighting useless wars and losing your leg."

Boon bristled at the criticism.  "You go too far, Nex," he warned.  "You don't know what I owe to the goddess Morrigan.  Call it off, or I'll call it off for you, and you won't like the way I do it!"

Boon Kal suddenly seemed to become aware of the sword pointed at him.  "Oh put that thing away, fool," he spat.  "I'm no threat to you, that's what those imbeciles were for.  It's obvious the temple needs to up its hiring standards."  He peered more closely at Glendal.  "I don't know how you connected Dassadal Ul to me, Elf, but you'll never be able to prove it.  Now stand aside."  He moved to the door, then stopped and said over his shoulder, "Nex, I'll have some acolytes attend to this mess.  But heed my warning," then closed the door behind him.

Fargle Nex let out a deep sigh of relief, then looked at Glendal.  "My friend, you have the most unusual talent of turning up exactly when I need you."  He smiled, then grimaced when he saw the blood dripping from the Elf's armor.  "Come, step inside my home and let's get you fixed up.  I am still a Cleric with many talents."

* * * * *

Fargle Nex's first appearance in these missives is here.

* * * * *

The Investigation scene d10 roll = 7 "Trick an Actor into revealing a Clue. Roll a die; on an odd result you face a Fight whether or not you succeed on the check."

I rolled a d10 = 3; an odd result, meaning Fight.

I rolled for the "potential foe" and got "Priest of War."  The fight difficulty ended up equaling 2 Thugs + 1 Brute.  The Bute was a 3 HD foe, the Thugs were all 1 HD.  I judged that the Brute was the Priest's bodyguard and that the Priest himself wouldn't fight.

The location was an elite location, "Exclusive Tea House."  This seemed appropriate for a couple of high mucky-mucks.  Naturally, I completely forgot this when I wrote the fiction above.  Sorry.

The Priest was created with the Quick NPC Creation page.  Age:  "Uncommonly old for one of their current position."  Family Situation:  "Unmarriageable or estranged from their family."  Source of Influence:  "The love and admiration of those who know them."  An Engaging Attitude or Temper:  "Miserable, despairing at some personal blight."  Most Powerful Motivation:  "Payment of a debt so great that coin may not be enough."  Most Notable Appearance Trait:  "Missing a limb or eye to accident or battle-wound."

A couple of Oracle questions answered that he is missing a leg.  He is human.  And his name, from the wonderful as always Wampus Country name generator, is:  Boon Kal, the Cannibal Myrmidon from the Living Beach!

The "Trick" from the challenge was, I decided, to get him to admit his part in the scheme to steal the idol.  The "Trick an Actor into revealing a Clue" Challenge = Target Number = 9.  I rolled 2d8 + 1 (CHA) + 2 (Streetwise Information Gatherer) = 13.  I succeed on the Check.

The fight with the Brute and Thugs was a bit of a nail-biter.  Glendal's Fray die took care of the Thugs, one each per round, but the Brute, being 3HD, was immune to it.  Glendal, tired after his exertions 10 years ago, er, in the last scene, missed his attack, took a hit (that did no damage), did one point of damage, took 2 hits (bringing him down to 2 remaining!), and finally, and luckily, did 3 hits worth, killing the Brute.  It could very easily have gone the other way.  The Brute rolled a d10 for damage, and I was very lucky he rolled a 1 first and a 7 second.  A 10 would have ended Glendal.

I asked the Oracle if Boon Kal would back down from his part in the plan, judging it Very Unlikely; d20 = 4 = No.  I similarly surmised that he would not report the swordplay to the authorities, so as not to embarrass himself, or raise suspicions about his involvement.  The Heat will not increase = 0.  (Plus, they were socially acceptable victims.)

I then asked the Oracle if Fargle Nex would offer to heal Glendal's wounds, as a way of saying thank you for the help in exposing his nemesis.  I judged it Likely d20 = 16 = Yes.

Glendal Lorg is now at 8 of 8 hit points.

Winning the Fight and the Challenge means I win the Scene.

Victory Points:  Glendal 3, Them 0.  Clues:  3.  Heat = 0.  I rolled 1d10 vs the total number of Investigations + Action Scene (3) = 7, so the enemy does not receive a VP.

Tune in next time as I finally continue the adventures of Glendal Lorg, Elf Thief.  Really.  I really do plan to continue.

Thanks for reading.

Glendal Lorg in the City, Setup & Scene 1

Glendal goes Urban.

I can't keep away from Scarlet Heroes by Sine Nomine Publishing.

* * * * *

Glendal Lorg, adventuring Elf Thief, has returned triumphant from the Fort of the Unholy Mound, pockets bulging with his blood-won spoils.

He has been back in his adopted city of Sorcerer Crest for some days now, adroitly avoiding his former "friends" at the Phantom Cabal -- those thieves --  and spending his gold on dancing girls and fine drink.

The city of Sorcerer Crest -- for it truly could be considered a city, though a small one -- was, like so many cities where too many Humans lived, crowded and unkempt, especially to an Elf's delicate sensibilities.  It was ruled as an oligarchy, although the Elf didn't really know for sure, primarily because he didn't care as he tended to do what he wanted anyhow.  He thought there to be maybe as many as 25 co-equal leaders, but he wouldn't swear to the number.

Glendal had lived there for many, many years and still found much to smile about in regard to the city's inhabitants.  For instance, he was highly amused by their reaction to outsiders:  they were generally irritated by them, considering them to be boring boors who couldn't find their way down Astrologers Stone Street to Tawney Lane without hand-holding directions.  Never mind the fact that the streets and lanes of Sorcerer Crest were winding, narrow, dirty and unevenly paved; the outsiders were still barely tolerated.

Fortunately, the city was reasonably prosperous, with generally low taxes as well as low prices, but ever with the threat of inflation.  The worst part about living in Sorcerer Crest was the poor waste disposal system:  streets often overflowed with refuse and sewer runoff, a legacy to the fact that the city was built up over decades, never with a plan but simply haphazardly.  This more often than was liked led to disease sweeping through the population, and the occasional fire wreaking havoc especially in the poorer districts.

And if those weren't enough problems, there was also the ever-present nearby threat of rampaging hobgoblins.

Despite Glendal having lived in Sorcerer Crest a very long time, and despite the fact that he being an Elf was clearly superior to any short-lived Human, he was still sometimes greeted with racial intolerance.  As well, his noble profession of Adventurer Thief (emphasis on Adventurer, thank-you-very-much) was often the source of look-down-your-nose attitudes as well.  In particular, the city fathers tended to frown upon the Pilfering Arts, and this in spite of the fact that the Phantom Cabal lined those city fathers' pockets quite well to look the other way.  That there were 25 sets of pockets to line should tell you just how prevalent and prosperous the Phantom Cabal was.

Glendal wasn't entirely sure if the Phantom Cabal knew he had left their employ prior to his lark in the Fort of the Unholy Mound.  He didn't really have any intention of going back to them, but at the same time he hated to burn any bridge that didn't need burning.  So he felt he would wait and see what they thought of it first.

Glendal had been splitting his gold and his time between three taverns:  the 'Filthy Ogre,' the 'Acolyte's Pick,' and the 'Captain & Brigand.'  Each offered something the others did not.  The Filthy Ogre was the the place to go to drink when you didn't care who saw you there or what you were going to drink, although they did have an excellent selection of wines.  The Acolyte's Pick was the place Glendal went when he was in the mood for slender, nubile (primarily Elven) dancing girls.  And the Captain & Brigand was known for its exotic weapons mounted over the hearth, and for the fact that it catered to more upscale customers.

It was shortly after his return to Sorcerer Crest -- after he had carefully disposed of much of his money, and turned the non-spendable gems into hard cash -- that Glendal heard the rumors.  Even though he was staying away from the Phantom Cabal, they still had a way of insinuating themselves into his life.

One night, while drinking at the Filthy Ogre, the Elf was enjoying a languorous mood, having imbibed more cheap wine than was necessary, when his attentive ears overheard a whispered conversation.  The room, as always, was dark, and Glendal was in his favorite corner with his back to the wall.  However, there was a table near him to his left, partially in a niche where its inhabitants no doubt thought themselves safe from prying eyes and ears.  Nevertheless, with only the slightly movement, Glendal was able to listen.

Two ne'er-do-wells, both of whom Glendal knew from the Phantom Cabal, were discussing the upcoming theft of ... something ... from ... somebody ....  They were very careful, the Elf had to admit to himself, to not give too much information away.  But what had caught his attention was the mention of the name Dassadal Ul.  Dassadal Ul the Vainglorious Coachman from the Primordial Road to be more specific.  Glendal knew Dassadal from their time together in the Phantom Cabal.  But whereas Glendal considered himself (rightly, mind you!) a cultured and principled Thief, Dassadal was no more than a cretinous Underworld street thug.  Glendal, being an Elf, was old by Human standards (but young by Elf standards) while Dassadal was uncommonly old for his position.  That he was this old and still no more than a common thief only added to his bitterness.

Glendal knew a few more things about Dassadal:  that he was uncomfortably wed with marital strife; that his bitterness often caused him to strike out with swift wrath; and that great physical strength propelled that violence.  Some said he was only inspired by the excitement and thrill of new experiences, but Glendal knew it was more about how he could self-promote:  the term "Vainglorious" was not added haphazardly, after all.  Even though Dassadal was missing an eye from some long-past fight, he still found ways to show off:  his eye-patch was encrusted with glittering gems!

Glendal and Dassadal were not friends, to be sure, yet they were not strictly speaking enemies, either.  They were rivals:  of about the same "rank" in the Phantom Cabal, and of much the same experience.  And while the Elf was mostly willing to leave the Cabal to its own devices in exchange for being left alone, he still couldn't resist the temptation of poking a finger into the eye of Dassadal, especially if it would be amusing at the same time.

So Dassadal was planning to steal something from someone, was he?  It came into Glendal's mind that he would either steal it first, himself, or perhaps prevent it from being stolen, depending on what it was.

He made his plans rapidly, sobering up almost instantly at the thought of the thrill of the chase.  The first thing to do would be to find out the who and the what of it all.

The Human lowlife who had been doing all the talking, Glendal knew as well.  His name was Essem Meem, known as the Orphan Scout from the Unseen Castle.  He was regarded as a mule, a person to whom things could be given and they would then be carried to someone else.  He didn't generally work much, though, because he was lazy.  The main thing that motivated him was trying to impress the boss, and the man who used Essem's services the most was Dassadal Ul.

Essem and his companion finished their drinks and their conversation.  The con artist wrapped a ragged scarf around his face on his way out the door, half-heartedly attempting to disguise himself.  Glendal dropped a few coins on the table and followed Meem at a safe distance.  He would trail Essem, accost him in some dark alley, and force him to tell all he knew about Dassadal's plans.

* * * * * 

The city, taverns and environs have been formed by using the Ultimate Toolbox by AEG, the d30 Sandbox Companion by New Big Dragon Games, and City Street Names by sorry-I-don't-know-who.

I'm using the Scarlet Heroes rule set, and playing an Urban encounter series.  I've never played the urban adventures before, so I'm feeling my way.  I wanted to establish Glendal's home base before I dove into the actual adventure:  I need to know the lay of the land before starting, after all.

Threat Level = 1
Heat = 0
Victory Points:  Glendal = 0; Enemy = 0
Clues = 0

Urban Adventure Plots and Crimes
I rolled 1d8 = 2 :  "An Antagonist seeks to steal something precious to a Target."
"Draw or choose either the Antagonist or the Target, whichever your hero is most likely to care about.  Draw the unknown actor only after a successful Investigation scene spent discovering their identity.  The object being stolen is the Target’s most precious
possession or something important to the Antagonist that the Target possesses.  Scenes revolve around finding the thieves, guarding the object, and snatching it back if it is stolen."

I decided to choose the Antagonist (and create him/her) and let the game create the Target.  I opted to do this because I have no other back-story NPCs to associate with Glendal (at least, none that wouldn't feel contrived to use).  I figure the only reason Glendal will be interested in this potential theft is not that it occurs to someone he knows (unlikely), but that the person attempting to do the theft is known to him (and he will probably want to stop him).

Using the Scarlet Heroes rules, I rolled on multiple tables:  "Actor Relationships," "Actors, Relationships & Reactions," "Quick NPC Creation," and got the following:

The Antagonist is a Society Fellow (meaning my society), an Underworld Cretinous Street Thug, (likely a former Thief from the Phantom Cabal).  He is uncommonly old for his position; is wed uncomfortably with marital strife; has great personal strength or potential for violence; is wrathful and swift to strike out at all which affronts him; his most powerful motivation is excitement and the thrill of some new experience or lore; and he is missing a limb or eye to accident or battle-wound.

Using the Wampus Country Name Generator I christened him Dassadal Ul, the Vainglorious Coachman from the Primordial Road, who is wanting to steal/has stolen something.

I then had to decide Who is the Target?

Scene 1:  Investigation:  1d10 = 6 "Ambush a dangerous Actor who holds a Clue.  Face a Fight instead of a check."

I rolled on the "Crime Details" table, with the following result:
Location = Business; Witness =  Culprit's minion; Why no Action? = Evidence stolen.

I decide to ambush this minion to find out the Who, What, When, Where, How & Why.

First I must create him.  Again, I rolled on "Actors, Relationships & Reactions," and because I didn't feel he needed quite as much depth, I simply used, "Memorable Traits," "Ruling Temperament," and Immediate Desires."  These produced the following:

Always Carries Things; Lazy; and Wants to Impress the boss.

However, the Investigation Scene description says that this is an ambush and I must fight.

Who, exactly, and where?  I rolled on "Potential Foes," and "Urban (Slum) Locations."
The minion is a Pit Fighter(!), a Human, and I corner him in a Tattered Market.

Finally, I use the Wampus Country Name Generator to give him his identity.

He is Essem Meem, the Orphan Scout from the Unseen Castle.

* * * * *

Scene 1:  Investigation:  "Ambush a dangerous Actor who holds a Clue.  Face a fight instead of a check."

Glendal tailed the thug through several back streets and alleys.  He awaited the appropriate opportunity to corner Essem without interruption.  The second scumbag went his separate way after a while, and Glendal continued to follow the mule.

They wended their way through the warrens into an even seedier part of town.  Finally, Essem appeared to reach his destination, a place in the slums called the Tattered Market.  Once, it had been a thriving marketplace but now it was mainly a disused covered set of stalls, even somewhat maze-like.

Once Glendal was certain the thug was inside, he stepped to the door, knocked, then stepped five paces backwards.  Essem opened the door, carefully looking around.  When he saw the Elf, he scowled.

"Hello, Glendal," he said.  "What do you want?"

"Essem," the Elf acknowledged with a nod.  "I want you to tell me about the little job Dassadal is planning."  He put one hand on his coin purse and the other on his sword hilt.  "I can make it worth your time, in more ways than one."

Essem looked startled at first, not understanding how Glendal could know about the job.  Gathering his wits, he stepped out of the shanty, flexing his muscles and cracking his knuckles.  Glendal suddenly recalled, a bit late, that Essem had once been a pit fighter and retained much of that physique.  (He blamed the cheap wine for that particular lack of memory.)

"I'm not really in the mood for talking," Essem growled.

No matter, the Elf decided.  He could still deal with the thug.

And then four more toughs shuffled out the door into the shadows and sunlight slanting between the stalls.  They were no pit fighters, but certainly dangerous street rabble.

Glendal waited until they stopped moving before speaking.  "The option is still open, Essem.  It's yours to choose but be warned:  I will have my information."

Essem's response was to spit on the ground.  "Bring it, Elf."

Glendal did.

Not wanting to kill the Orphan Scout from the Unseen Castle, the Thief slashed with his sword, deliberately so that Essem would dodge.  He did, right in to the pommel of the Elf's dagger.  The blow connected and Essem dropped unconscious to the ground.

That left just enough of an opening for one of the street rabble to score a strike on Glendal, drawing blood.  The Elf twitched away and the other three attackers missed.

Glendal had been willing to let the villains go, but once his blood was spilled he tended to be much less forgiving.  With a slick flourish, he used the same maneuver to distract the rabble who had dared to stab him, and skewered him with his dagger.

The second thug also was able to hit the Elf, drawing another red line of blood.  Glendal promptly split him in half in payment.  With a backhand motion, he sunk his knife hilt-deep in the third tough's neck.

Pausing only for a moment, Glendal locked eyes with the last thug, giving him his chance to escape.  Instead, the fool taunted him.  Glendal speared him with his sword, felling him.

He wiped his weapons on the dead men's clothing before catching Essem by the collar.  The pit fighter's head lolled limply.  Glendal sprinkled some water from his canteen on Essem's bruised face and slapped his cheeks lightly to bring him around.  Moaning, Essem opened his eyes.  Now the Elf would have his answers.

* * * * *

The Fight Difficulty level is d8 + 1/2 the Threat level (rounded down) = d8 + 0 = 2.
However, the description said he is a "dangerous" Actor, and he is a Pit Fighter, so 2 didn't work for me.  I chose "4" = 1d4 + T Rabble + 1 Veteran (which I changed to Thug).  I ended with 4 Rabble and 1 Thug (Essem).

I purposefully noted on my sheet that I was attacking to subdue Essem, not to kill him.

My Fray die did the job, and I took 2 wounds from the Rabble before I killed them all.  I allowed 2 separate Morale roll chances for them to escape, but apparently they wanted to die.

I won the Scene.  +1 VP, +1 Clue.  I used violence, but in a socially-acceptable location and against socially acceptable targets, so no automatic Heat increase.  I rolled 1d10 vs the total number of Investigation + Action scenes [1] = 7, so no Heat increase.  Heat = 0.

Threat Level = 1
Heat = 0
Victory Points:  Glendal = 1; Enemy = 0
Clues = 1

* * * * *

Essem lay on the ground, Glendal kneeling straddled over him, one hand on the thug's throat, the other holding his dagger.

"You like working for Dassadal that much?" Glendal asked.  "I can make you look like him too," and he gently waved the glinting dagger close to Essem's eye.  "Now I'll ask you again:  What is Dassadal after, and why?"

Essem's eyes crossed as they focused on the point of the knife.  He gulped, and then stammered, "It's a statuette, nothing special, not even worth all that much, just a couple hundred, it's just a statuette."

"Keep going," Glendal urged with a shake of his hand.  "What's it look like?  Who does it belong to?"

Essem squeezed his eyes shut tight.  "Uh, uh, it's made of inlaid wood, plated with pewter.  I think it shows a person, maybe a victim?  I'm not sure.  It's a marriage statuette, it's for a wife to give her husband--"

"I know what a marriage statuette is, dullard.  Who is it for?"

"Immuth Nex, the Scribe from the Fallen Castle."

Glendal paused.  Something about that name or the title sounded familiar.  He thought hard for a few moments while Essem sweated.  Then it came to him.

"Immuth Nex, that's her married name.  What was her maiden name?" he demanded.

"Uh, uh, Raglia Bazh, I think.  Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what Dassadal said."

Glendal almost laughed aloud.  Ahhh, what odd games did the Fates play with mortals.  Fargle Nex was a Cleric of Cernunnos, god of virility, whom Glendal had only just met during his exploration of the Fort of the Unholy Mound.  They had aided each other briefly, and had parted on friendly terms.  The Polygamist from the Accursed Island had been searching for a cure for his lady love, Raglia Bazh, the Scribe from the Fallen Castle (but more a minor politician or functionary for one of the Twenty-Five) and Glendal had helped him procure it.

Apparently the cure had worked and Fargle and Raglia had wed.  It was common practice in Sorcerer Crest for the married woman to change her name, both her first and last, thus signifying her new life.  Another strange custom particular to Sorcerer Crest and it's immediate surroundings was the giving of a marriage statue by the bride (or bride's family) to the groom, again to show the full "ownership" of the woman by the man.  In this case it would seem the statue displayed a representative sacrifice, of the "victim" bride to her husband's care.  Glendal did not put much stock into these token displays; he had seen too many marriages end far too soon in spite of these customs.  No, fidelity to one's mate was far more important than some pathetic statuette or meaningless name change.  Given Fargle's chosen career, Glendal wondered if the man knew what he was doing.

Breaking from his reverie, Glendal gave Essem one last shake.  "Why?  Why does Dassadal want this marriage statuette?  What is it to him?"

The pit fighter shook his head.  "I don't know, I swear!  All I know is Dassadal wants it."

"Does he have it yet?  Has he already stolen it?"

"No, not yet," Essem replied.  "I'm not sure when he plans to make his move, but he hasn't yet."

Glendal stood, then helped Essem to his feet as well.  Giving the henchman a gentle dusting, he then gave him a gentle warning.  "Don't tell Dassadal.  If I find out...." and he let the word hang in the air, before turning on his heel and striding out of the Tattered Market.

* * * * *

I had won the Scene, so Essem told me...what?

For the Who I rolled on Actors, Relationships, and Reactions, getting the results of:

Elite and Noble, "Famed Courtesan."  For Race, I rolled Shou-blooded (which is Orc) but I didn't see how that fit, so I changed it to Half-Elf.

Next I rolled, as usual, on the Wampus Country Name Generator.  Now keep in mind, this table has 100 entries for all five columns.  Here's the amazing part:  I rolled Nex with a legitimate first roll for the surname.  So obviously this was related to Fargle Nex from the first adventure.

I only assumed I didn't have any NPCs for the Target when I started the game.  And how can it be contrived when the dice themselves tell me what to do!

What was the object?  I gave 50/50 odds to Object or Jewelry.  I got Object.  I rolled between Costly/Precious/Priceless and it became a Costly Statuette of Inlaid Wood, plated with Pewter.

The Tome of Adventure Design by Frog God Games gave me the specifics:  a statue of a "Person (Victim)," "Conferring Ownership."

I asked the Oracle if it had been stolen yet, with 50/50 odds.  1d20 = 5 = No.

I asked the Oracle if Essem knew why Dassadal wanted to steal it.  I gave it Unlikely odds.  1d20 = 9 = No.

Now I know Who the Antagonist is, Who the Target is, and What is to be stolen.  I still don't know When, Where, How and Why.

Glendal has some work to do.

Please check in again soon (hopefully) to see what I find out.

Thanks for reading!

The Adventures of Glendal Lorg, Scarlet Hero (1.8)

Glendal Lorg -- Elf, Thief, Scarlet Hero -- the Visionary from the Phantom Cabal, has so far successfully avoided dire hurt as he explores the Fort of the Unholy Mound.  He has made it to what might be called room 8 of a total of 12, which he obviously knows in some deep, dark, unconscious Elf-Thiefy-part of himself.

He has just discovered a Secret Door leading out of Room 8 to Room 9.  What lies beyond, nobody yet knows!

After disabling the trap, he prepares to enter...Room 9.

Turn 19, Room 9:

Glendal slipped through the gap in the door as skillfully as sand between fingers.  In a moment he was standing, silent, in what had once been the Fort's Prison Cell.  A barred section was rusted and open, empty of everything but the smell of age-old decay.  However, in the center of the room on a rickety table was a pile of gold coins.

Strangely, this room's roof was intact, casting everything into deep shadow.  For a split second, the Thief was blind, before his Elf eyes adjusted to the gloom.  What he saw made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end:  three of the Looters were crouched in places of hiding around the room, very obviously ready to ambush the helpless Thief.  To a lesser being, they would likely have been invisible until too late; to the mighty hero -- with his Elven senses and carefully cultivated keen danger sense -- they were as apparent as if they had never tried to hide.

With a slight swagger, Glendal stepped away from the door, fingering the hilt of his sword, and at first acting as if he knew not of their presence.  Then with a flourish, he drew the blade and spoke to the men, projecting his voice with authority.  "Pathetic men!  Your ploy has failed.  Leave the gold -- no, I'll be generous, take one each -- and go home to your families.  I'll not give you a second chance or another warning."

His eyes darted between the three men.  Two were mere minions, followers probably lured in by promises of much wealth.  The third was more formidable, a skilled freebooter more used to the ways of treachery and bloodshed.  The Elf would have to dispose of him first, and quickly.

Still, he waited for their first move.  He would let them live should they choose that path.

It was not to be.

With a growl of anger, their leader rose, brandishing his weapon, and ordered his men to attack.  Quickly they closed on the Thief, and battle was joined.

Glendal waited until the leader was committed to his attack before flicking his wrist to skewer the man, and promptly dropped his own sword!  The human leader moved in for the kill, grinning at the Elf's clumsiness, but impaled himself on Glendal's dagger instead.

The surprised but dead mercenary crumpled to the floor, and Glendal turned his attention to the two novice adventurers.  The first, while clearly upset by the killing of his leader, nevertheless continued to close and attack.  His greed outweighed his better judgment.  "I knew we should'a killed ya earlier when we 'ad the chance!" he spat.  "That damn cleric....  We never should'a listened to 'im."

The second adventurer, however, upon seeing the widening pool of blood on the floor, fell to his knees and tried to join Glendal's side.  "Please, good sir," the filthy, black-toothed scalawag begged, "I didn't mean no 'arm.  I's just followin' orders.  They promised me money, but I ain't seen nuthin' yet but killin'."  He inched closer and closer on his knees, arms open wide.  In moments, he was close enough to get in the Elf's way.

Luckily, even though Glendal was distracted, the first looter was as inexperienced as he was dirty, and his swing missed.  The Elf slid his toe under his sword, flipped it up into his hand and promptly missed this attack as well.  Arrgh, why didn't these lesser beings leave him alone?  Frustrated, he took extra care with his backhand attack, and dropped the first minion where he stood.  The Elf was always intrigued by the look of surprise on the faces of those he killed.  Did he really look so incompetent that they didn't think he could kill them?

Something in the tone of the second rogue's voice triggered a warning in the Elf.  The fellow had practically enveloped the Thief in a hug around his legs, since he was still on his knees.  He was still saying the same sorts of things, "I didn't mean no 'arm, after all, my sword is broken now and how will I ever get home?" but somehow it was just different enough to give him away.

Glendal brought his sword around and parried the sneaky thrust of this one at the last possible second.  Appalled at the treachery, the Elf dispatched the Looter without hesitation or comment.  He then stooped to wipe his blade clean on the ruffian's clothing, but stopped when he realized it was only making his sword filthier.  Disgusting humans, he thought.

As he caught his breath, he surveyed the rest of the room.  The stacks of gold coins -- at least 400 by his quick estimate -- were there, no doubt, for the same reason as those in the other rooms:  the Looters had accumulated it and stored it for later retrieval.  Plus, it was probably intended as a lure for him, and a distraction from their ambush.  Feeling pretty confident -- not over-confident, as the Elf would never admit to that -- Glendal left the gold right where it was.  By his estimation, there couldn't be that many more trouble-makers left in the Fort, so it should be safe until he could come back to get it.  What he found most interesting about this encounter was that he now knew there had to be another way up from below; these ruffians certainly had not sneaked past him to get here first!

Lastly, he looked to the South East, and the very odd door there.  It was entirely made of quartz.  It glowed a soft pinkish in the dim light of the room, not from any inherent light but just because it collected what dim light there was.  The Thief examined it carefully.  There appeared to be no way to open it:  no knobs or handles that he could see, nor did it seem to be trapped in any way.

He stood puzzling over it for some time.  Then, taking a lit candle for a little extra light, he went over the door more thoroughly.  Engraved along the edges were a series of grooves; not quite runes, but shallow carvings, and yes!, they formed some words.  Instructions, he realized with a start.  Holding the candle, he traced the words with a long finger.  Momentarily nonplussed by what he read, he traced the words again.  It did not make sense, but with no other way to get through the door it was worth a try.

Following the instructions, he opened his canteen and carefully poured some water on the runes, then spoke the command word as written on the door.  No sooner had the word left his mouth than the quartz door suddenly split right in half, side to side, opening top to bottom.

The noble Elf readied to enter the next room.

Right, so here's how things shook out:

I rolled the usual things:

Room type d20 = 14 = Prison Cell.

Goal roll d20 + 3 rooms = 18 = No.  Of course you could argue that I've already found the goal, but I like to keep my options open.

Room Contents d10 rolls:

Encounter = 8 = Yes.  Adds +3 to Treasure roll.

Treasure = 9 + 3 = Yes.

Hazard = 9 = No.

Feature = 3 = No.

Exit direction d10 = 5 = South East (to Room 10).

Encounter 3d6 = 4 + 3 + 3 = 10 = "2d4 + T HD worth of Minions & Elites."  The 2d4 + T = 1 + 1 + 1 = 3 HD = 2 Minions and 1 Elite.

They have the same stats as previous Novice Adventurers and Skilled Freebooters.

The Encounter Treasure 3d6 = 1 + 2 + 5 = 8 = "No encounter treasure, but M2 worth of room contents."  M2 = 2d4 x 100 gp = 2 + 2 = 400 gp.

The occupants' Reactions:  First, I asked the Oracle, "Are these the same Looters from downstairs, that I met with the Cleric?"  I assigned it as 'Likely.'  d20 = 15 = "Yes."

Next I asked the Oracle, "With the Cleric gone, do they want revenge?"  I assigned it as 'Very Likely.'  d20 = 9 = "Yes."

I then rolled on the Reactions table on p117, under the column titled "Unfriendly NPC," with a modifier of "-2 for insults or risks to the NPC’s wealth or standing."  2d6 = 1 + 3 - 2 = 2 = "Anger/Violence."

As a backup, I also rolled a Reaction Check on page 79, which is elaborated on, on page 55 (at least, I consider them to be basically the same thing).  2d8 = 4 + 1 + CHA 1 = 6 = "Predacious, willing to take advantage of those weaker."

Both descriptions seemed to back each other up, and also fit what I felt was appropriate for the situation.

Next, I had to determine the answer to the question, Does Glendal ken to their ambush?  I rolled an Opposed Check.  The Looters rolled 2d8 = 6 + 2 = 8.  Glendal rolled 2d8 + Elven Senses (or Keen Danger Sense; he has both at +1 but can only use one) + WIS = 7 + 7 + 1 +1 = 16.  Obviously he was very aware of their presence.

I then wrote out on my sheet, "Your ploy failed.  Leave the gold -- take 1 -- and go home to your families."  (I was really getting into the part, don'cha'know!)

So I asked the Oracle, "Do they obey?"  I continued with the theme that the Reaction Tables had provided, as 'Very Unlikely.'  d20 = 13 = No.  So I rolled on the Oracular Adjectives and Motivations table on p115.  2d20 = 14, 16 = "Rapacity," "Regret."  I interpreted this to mean they were too greedy, and regretted that they didn't kill Glendal earlier.

Naturally this led to Combat.

The Elf took the initiative, and promptly rolled a 1 for his attack.  Fumble!  However, the Fray d6 scored 2, which did 1 point of damage to the Elite, killing him.

The Minion morale check resulted in Minion1 passing with an 8, but Minion2 failed with a 2.  This ended with him fleeing.  In order to make things more interesting, I asked the Oracle, "Does Minion2 flee away from Glendal?"  Since panic can make men do strange things, I assigned it as 'Unknown.'  d20 = 7 = "No, but..."  The "But" d6 roll = 1 = "A twist to the relationship between people in the situation."  I interpreted this as him attempting to join Glendal's side, begging and interfering with him.  I took this direction partly after reading the following in the Bestiary, under the heading "Morale" on p54:  "Brave creatures may make a fighting withdrawal, trying to reach some more defensible position to make a last stand. Others might simply turn and run, or throw down their weapons and beg for mercy. Most creatures will act according to their training even after their morale breaks. Soldiers may abandon their weapons and flee the field, but they’re more likely to retreat in something resembling disciplined order. Bandits, on the other hand, are apt to scatter to the winds as

soon as they lose heart."  [emphasis mine]

Then Minion1 attacked with a 15 and missed.

Round 2:  Glendal again attacked but only managed a 14, which is quite the miss.  However, again the Fray d6 saved him with a 2, killing Minion1.

What was I going to do with Minion2?  I didn't really want a camp follower or a dogsbody or anything.  I asked the Oracle, "Does Minion2 stay?"  'Unknown.'  d20 = 14 = "Yes, but..."  The "But" d6 = 5 = "The failure of a piece of gear, either for the hero or an NPC."

Again I turned to the Oracular Adjectives and Motivations table.  2d20 = 20, 14 = "Servitude," "Trickery."  I interpreted this to mean that Minion2 panicked, offering to help Glendal, claiming his sword is broken, but when he gets close he attempts to attack instead.

Do I notice?  This calls for an Opposed Check.  Minion2 = 2d8 = 2 + 5 = 7.  Glendal 2d8 + Keen Danger Sense + WIS = 1 + 8 + 1 + 1 = 11.  Yes, the Elf notices.

Combat ensues / continues:  Glendal d20 = 25.  That's a hit.  Damage d8 = 4 + 2 = 6 = 3 points of damage =  one dead Minion2.

To determine what type of door the connecting door to Room 10 was, I consulted the Tome of Adventure Design p153, Table 3-30 "Normal Door, Unusual Features of."  Four d100 rolls provided that it was made of Quartz; of a Natural Color; that it Divides at middle, top slides up, bottom slides down; and that it had a Written Trick.  To divine what the Trick was, I rolled on p208, Table 3-114 and 115.  It answered as "Water" and "Carved in Stone."  Table 3-116 said, "The written trick gives instructions that must be immediately followed."

Ergo, If you pour water on the quartz grooves and read the command word the door opens.

Turn 20, Room 10:

The Elf Thief slipped carefully but determinedly through the quartz door into the room beyond.  He had time only for a quick glance before events began to move forward.  This had been the Fort's Map & File Room, judging by the tattered and torn ribbons of parchment adorning the walls and what furniture that remained.  A table or two still stood upright, covered in yellowing, desiccated, decaying scrolls:  map scrolls by the looks of them, not spell scrolls.  Most of the writing and images on the wall maps were so faded as to be illegible.

However, what captured the Elf's attention first were two simultaneous things:  first, a mound of glittering jewels, jewelry, gemstones, potion bottles and gold pieces; and second, three more thugs angrily facing him with weapons drawn as he appeared.

"He killed Kenny!  Get 'im!" their leader shouted.

Glendal was already moving.  He had had enough of these shallow, greed-blinded humans, interfering with his plans to acquire all of the treasure in the Fort of the Unholy Mound.  Didn't they realize yet that it was all meant to be his?

His sword sang from its scabbard with a musical sound, and promptly flew out of his fingers to stick in the wall across from him.  But his backhanded dagger slash gutted the skilled freebooter who had spoken.  He withdrew the blade and met the eyes of the two lesser thugs.

The first unskilled adventurer very obviously plucked his courage up by it's bootstraps, and stood his ground.  The second, though, gave in completely to panic.

"Oh no, not again," thought the Elf.  But this time, instead of claiming his sword had broken, the young ruffian actually broke it over his knee, and then turned tail and ran out the single door behind him to the east.

The Thief was momentarily distracted by the spectacle, and was unable to sufficiently parry the first hooligan's attack.  The sword scraped through in a gap between the Elf's leather armor, drawing a thin line of red behind it.

Dancing away from the attack, Glendal deftly retrieved his sword, swung about, swung, and ... missed again!  With an aggravated grimace, the Elf re-centered his focus, and impaled the looter on his dagger.

Glendal had already cleaned and sheathed his weapons before the novice adventurer's body fully hit the floor, and was eyeing with intense pleasure the pile of loot before him.

Turn 20's events unfolded as follows, with the normal rolls:

Room type d20 = 11 = Map & File Room.

Goal roll d20 + 4 = 5 + 4 = 9 = No.

Contents d10 rolls:

Encounter = 10 = Yes, add 3 to Treasure roll.

Treasure = 7 + 3 = 10 = Yes.

Hazard = 8 = No.

Feature = 5 = No.

Room exit direction d10 = 4 = East (to Room 11).

The Encounter 3d6 = 1 + 2 + 3 = 6 = "1d4+T hit dice worth of foes numbering several

Minions or Civilians and possibly an Elite."  The 1d4 + T = 2 + 1 = 3 HD worth of foes = 2 Minions and 1 Elite.

I did not feel the need to ask the Oracle whether or not these were the last of the Looters from downstairs.  It just seem right to say they were.

The Treasure roll turned out as follows:  3d6 = 6 + 6 + 6 = 18! = "A full C-type trove is present appropriate to the type of dungeon. It will require 1d6 turns to fully catalogue and

collect it from its repository, risking wandering foes."

For the C-type trove I felt C4, a "Minor Ruin's Wealth," was appropriate.  The rolls required were as follows:

"1d6+4 x 100 gp, 1d6+4 Cheap Jewelry, 1d4 Costly Jewelry, 25% for 1 Precious Jewelry, 1d3 Lesser and 25% for 1 Greater Magic Item."

So I rolled on all the appropriate tables.  This was definitely Glendal's big score!  Rather than write it all up, I've included a photo of my notes, below.

You can click on this to enlarge it in order to read it more easily, assuming you can actually read my chicken-scratch handwriting.

For the combat, I had Glendal attack right away, no need for conversation.  There was no way the avaricious Elf was going to let this loot slip through his fingers!

There were two Minions (Novice Adventurers) and one Elite (Skilled Freebooter), just like the previous room.  Glendal attacked first, and rolled a 1, just like the previous room!  Ol' Glendal really isn't as good as he thinks he is!  His Fray d6 scored a 5, which was enough to kill the Elite.

I then rolled a Morale check for the two Minions, just like the previous room.  Minion1 passed with an 8 (same number as Minion1 in Room 9, which is exactly the number needed to pass), and Minion2 failed with a 2 (which, again, was the exact same number as in Room 9!).  This is total déjà vu!

I asked the Oracle, "Does Minion2 flee away from Glendal?"  The same as before, I assigned it as Unknown due to panic, d20 = 13 = "Yes, but..."  The "But" d6 = 1 = "A twist to the relationship between people in the situation."  Again, this was the same result as previously.

I really did roll everything separately, I promise!

Finally, with the Oracular Adjectives & Motivation table, I got some new results.  2d20 = 1, 10 = "Habit," "Broken Object."  So I decided he broke his own sword and ran away home.

Minion2 attacked Glendal and hit for 1 hp, bringing Glendal down to 5 remaining.

Round 2:  Glendal attacked, scoring a 14 which is a miss.  The Fray die scored 3, which was enough to kill Minion2.

And Thus Ended Turn 20.

Turn 21:

Glendal wasted no time.  Despite his greed, he knew to take care of himself first (as he usually did in most situations anyhow, whether they were social or combative).  While applying some ointment to his wound, he listened carefully for the sounds of further attack.  All was silent, save for the sound of blood seeping into the wooden floorboards.  After a sip of water and bite of pounded cake, he felt like a new man, er, Elf.

Turn 22:

Next he turned his attention to the pile of treasure on the table.  Ordinarily, such a large 'take' would require a long time to carefully sort and catalogue.  Luckily for him, the looters had done the work for him:  everything was neatly arranged in rows by type and value.  Obviously they had been preparing to split the wealth between them when they were interrupted.  As it was, Glendal was able to rake his eyes across the gems, fixing everything in his near-perfect memory for such things before sweeping the entire lot into his backpack (with the exception of the huge pile of gold pieces; he would need a larger sack to carry those).  The clatter and clink was like music to his pointy ears.  It was so quick he didn't even worry about other looters sneaking up on him.

After a last look under the table to make sure he had missed nothing, he turned his attention to the eastern door, leading to the next room.  By his estimation, this would be the next to last room in the Fort.  Somewhere ahead must be another way down that the looters were using to get in front of him.  The thought sobered him:  he didn't know how many more looters there might be, and he was in no mood to share.  Steeling his nerve and checking his sword, he approached the door.

Turn 21 was a simple healing turn.  Per the rules, Glendal healed the immediately preceding damage, bringing him back to full hit points.  The wandering monsters d6 roll = 3 = No (only on a 1).

Turn 22 was to have been the start of cataloging the treasure by rolling 1d6 for the total number turns it would take.  My roll was d6 = 1 turn.  I figured the ruffians already had it sorted and counted.  Very nice of them.  In fact, it seemed so elegant that I either decided to not roll for another wandering monster or I forgot (I don't recall which).

And Thus Ends Turn 22.  Tune in next time (whenever that may be, hopefully sooner rather than later) for the final two rooms in the Fort of the Unholy Mound.  It was great fun for me to play it.  It just takes 10 times as long to write it up as it does to play it out.  I think after this game finishes, I'll simply play and write them up as "narrative," with no rules explanations.  It'll save an enormous amount of time.

* * *  Thanks for reading this far, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.  * * *

Bye!

The Adventures of Glendal Lorg, Scarlet Hero (1.5)

Continuing the on-going story of Glendal Lorg the Visionary, Elf Thief of the Phantom Cabal (at one point, at least), as he explores the Fortress of the Unholy Mound.

The immediately preceding episode can be read here, and the beginning of the story can be found here.

Turn 13, still in Room 4 on the ground floor:
Glendal drew his sword to meet whatever approaching creature was making the noise he heard.  His wounds were tended and he felt ready to fight, although there were still a few cuts and bruises that would take longer time or magic to heal.

From the same direction in which he himself had come stepped the Cleric of Cernunnos (the god of virility), Fargle Nex the Polygamist from the Accursed Island.  He held his hands open and empty in front of him, palms out, in the universal sign of, "Don't hit me!"

Glendal lowered the point of his sword, but did not sheathe it.  A part of him wanted to like this Cleric, but a larger part was suspicious.  "Was that your clever little trap I found?" he demanded, referring to the fire trap that had been added to the stairs.

Fargle Nex's face took on a pained expression, and he nodded.  "I warned you to leave.  I can't let anyone endanger my purpose here."

Glendal, losing his patience (as he often did) with this short-lived, short-sighted species of Humans, waved his sword menacingly.  "I told you I would help if I found it," he grated between clenched teeth.  "Now get out of my way."

The Cleric's face darkened in anger.  This Human seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve, thought Glendal.  Perhaps that was why he was so successful with the women in his chosen calling.  The Elf could see the struggle between fighting and acceptance in Fargle's facial features.  Eventually, acceptance won out.

"Very well," he replied.  "If you were able to survive the fire trap, then well and good.  Perhaps you too are part of my geas, and mayhap were sent here to aid me.  I shall accept your aid."  He pulled a scroll from a side pocket and carefully unrolled it.  "This is what is required for the cure.  What I need from this place is in the room upstairs, in a sort of desk, or table, or pantry, you might say.  But it is trapped in such a way that none of my...assistants...were able to divine how to get to it."

He showed Glendal the scroll, pointing to the missing ingredient.  The Elf carefully read it.  "A poultice of cursed, salted blackberries?"

"You will find the salted blackberries in the room above," agreed Fargle.  "I will make the poultice myself.  And they are cursed simply by being here, in the Fortress of the Unholy Mound.  Anything 'unholy' constitutes a curse, for my purposes."

"What sort of disease is cured by a poultice of cursed, salted blackberries?" Glendal asked incredulously, but then quickly added, "Never mind, I don't want to know!"  After a moment's consideration, he said, "I will retrieve it for you, provided I keep anything else of value I find.  I'm not in this for your religion, and I'm not in it for you, Cleric.  I expect to be well paid.  I'm in it for the money."

Glendal asked a few more questions of what Fargle knew about the room above, then, keeping his sword bared, he cautiously ascended the stairs.

Apologies to Han Solo....

Here's how things went.

The Wandering Monster d6 check = 1 meant something was coming.  I rolled on the Basic Fantasy  Role-Playing Game Dungeon Encounter table, page 133, d12 = 5 = "NPC Party:  Adventurer."

I asked the Scarlet Heroes Oracle, page 115, the obvious question, "Is it the Cleric?"  I rated this as Very Likely, rolled d20 = 8 = Yes.

Glendal confronted Fargle with the question I wrote above (it's actually on my paper too), so I rolled for Fargle's reaction on page 117.  Despite their previous dealings, I used the NPC Stranger column, 2d6 - 2 (for insults or risks to the NPC's wealth or standing) = 4 + 6 - 2 = 8 = "Qualified Consent."

The Cleric answered with, "I warned to you leave, etc."

Glendal replied with, "I told you I would help if I find it.  Now get out of my way."

So I rolled another page 117 Reaction, 2d6 - 2 = 1 + 3 - 2 = 2 = "Anger."  I also rolled on the "Their Attitude Toward the Hero is..." table on page 79 for further edification, 2d8 + CHA = 5 + 3 + 1 = 9 = "The usual, given the nature of the encounter."  So it seemed appropriate that Anger won out.

What would he do about it?  I asked the Oracle, "Does he attack me?"  I felt that, even though he had a background that would allow fighting, it didn't seem right that it would be his first response, plus he had been pretty cautious up until now.  I deemed it Unlikely, d20 = 3 = No.

I followed up to the Oracle with the question, "Does he stop me?"  I also considered this Unlikely, d20 = 13 = "No, but..."  I rolled d6 on the 'The "But" Is Related To...' table = 5 = "The failure of a piece of gear, either for the hero or an NPC."  I interpreted this to be in regard to the failure of the trap to stop Glendal, so the Cleric would grudgingly allow him to help.  I figured he would tell the Thief what he knew about what he was looking for.

This encounter ended Turn 13.  I then rolled to discover what was in Room 7 at the top of the stairs.

Glendal cautiously peered over the lip of the top of the stairs.  This room originally had more wood in the ceiling, but large portions were missing, letting in the wavering light from the forest outside.  Shafts of golden sunlight slanted through the room, illumating the dancing motes of dust floating haphazardly through the air.  It served to illumine the room while at the same time making it difficult to see specific things.

Glendal squinted against the glare.  After assuring himself that the room was empty of inhabitants, he climbed the rest of the way up the stairs.  As he took his first step, something crunched underfoot and he instantly drew back his boot.  He looked down at the floor:  shards of clay and bits of broken glass were strewn everywhere in the room.

Shielding his eyes, he realized this had once been the Fort's Storeroom.  Lining the walls were shelves, some straight, others sagging and bent from age and exposure; all were filled with bottles, jars, boxes and loose piles of debris where a sack had once been but had now rotted away.

A stout wooden door blocked the exit to the southeast.

Other things also were in the room:  eating utensils, plates, a few weapons, and several desks and tables with cupboards.  Walking carefully through the debris, Glendal spied a short bow missing its string, numerous broken dinner plates (most beyond hope of repair), an oddly out of place ten foot long wooden pole (broken into three unequal pieces), and...he suddenly stopped short.  On the floor near one of the tables with attached cupboard was a dollop of feces and the remains of some small creature; mostly just the entrails, but a few other bits were recognizable.  Worms crawled through the remains.

Shards of glass, as from a shattered vial, sat in a blue stain on the floor behind this table.

There was nothing of any value in this room, it's contents having been looted or ruined ages upon ages ago.  And yet, Glendal knew, from the Cleric's description, that at least one thing still remained.

Sheathing his sword, Glendal edged over to the table with the built-on cupboard.  According to the love-lorn Cleric, the cursed, salted blackberries were inside this cupboard, but it was trapped in some fashion that the Looters who were "assisting" him could not decipher.  The cupboard had doors that were closed, both of which opened outward, with two round wooden knobs near their innermost edge.  The cupboard doors did not appear to be locked in any way.  The doors, however, did not begin at the table, but about six inches above it.  This left a small inset or shelf, inside which were sat a number of ceramic jars.  The jars were all different sizes and shapes -- some short and round, others tall and thin -- and two were colored green and blue.  The flat space of the table was littered with dust, leaves, broken pieces of glass and ceramic, and -- most interestingly to Glendal -- some small footprints no larger than a gold but oddly-distorted, almost as if the toes were joined or webbed.  There did not seem to be a direction of travel, and there were no more than two or three prints.

Knowing this to be the correct table, the Elf Thief made a careful, thorough search of the table for anything else out of the ordinary.  Running his fingers gently over the surface of the table, he detected a hard metal plate, set flush into the surface of the tabletop.  It was worked to appear the same as the wood surrounding it; only in touch did it differ.  The clever Thief immediately recognized it as a pressure plate, which either needed to be depressed, or to be kept from being depressed, in order to trigger the trap.  Further examination -- and years of experience coupled with a natural instinct for this sort of thing -- caused him to look up.  There, hidden in the maze of dark and light shafts of daylight and shadow, dangled a thin string.  The bottom end was frayed as if it had been cut long ago.

Aha!  Now Glendal knew exactly what he was facing.  There had obviously once been something tied to the end of the string, most likely a feather or something similarly lightweight, which was all that was needed to counterbalance the pressing of the pressure plate in the table surface.  Touching the plate without the correct counter-key would trigger the trap.  Peering with an Elf's incomparable eyes at the ceiling, Glendal thought he could detect a trap-door, through which, he had no doubt, something heavy and deadly would fall, crushing whoever was below it into bloody pulp.

It was no wonder the luckless thugs working for the Cleric had not understood the trap's design:  the feather had long ago rotted away or been lost, the string was all but invisible in the gloom, and the pressure plate was practically undetectable.  It was a wonder at all that the Looters even knew there was a trap!

One thing only niggled at the back of his mind as he jimmied a replacement for the feather and tied it to the string:  the strangely-webbed footprints.  But he was busy and consumed with being careful as he worked to disarm the trap.

Stepping back, the Elf took a deep steadying breath, totally confident in his abilities.  He knew he had found the only trap, he knew he had properly disarmed it.  Catching sight of the charred edge of his leather breeches, though, he decided to step as far away from the table as he could and still be able to reach it to touch the pressure plate -- just in case.

Standing at arm's length, he pressed down on the iron plate until he heard the faint click, indicating the cupboards were un-trapped and un-locked.  Silently congratulating himself on his superior skill and accomplishment, he was caught completely off his guard by the Giant Toad that plopped out of the cupboard, looked around itself grumpily, and sprang at him in attack!

Technically, the roll for the room direction was unnecessary, since this roll is for the exit of the previous room (Room 4), and I had already determined it was upstairs.  I did roll for the room type d20 = 18 = Storeroom.  Perfect!

Then I rolled the usual things:

The MacGuffin or "Goal" roll d20 = 19 +1 (for being in the second half of the 'dungeon') = 20 = Yes, it's here!

Prior to this point, I only had the Cleric agreeing to let Glendal help.  I had no specifics of what he was looking for or where it was to be found.  So I decided that the MacGuffin was the cure.  And how unbelieveably lucky was it that it was in a storeroom, so that it actually makes a bit of sense?  At the time I had it in my mind that it would be a potion.

Continuing the usual rolls:

Room contents, Encounter d10 = 1 = No.
Treasure d10 = 3 = No.
Hazard d10 = 9 = No.
Feature d10 = 7 + 1 (for 'No' to the previous three) = 8 = No.

Wow.  A real, empty room.

Next I rolled to determine the direction of the exit, which per the rules said roll should come after exploring the room.  But either I forgot or just felt at the time that a door would be noticeable; really, what difference does it make when you generate the direction?  d10 = 5 = South east.

Next, I wanted to find out what sort of things were to be found in this storeroom, so I turned to the d30 DM Companion by New Big Dragon Games.

I rolled three times on the "MDDA:  Misc. Debris I" table on page 10; d30 = 24, 9, 10 to generate the short bow, the plates and the broken pole (which I further rolled to determine their condition, "needs repair" and "beyond repair.")

I also rolled three times on table "MDDB:  Misc. Debris II" on page 10; d30 = 30, 1, 23 to find out that there were "standard" worms, feces, and offal/entrails of vermin.

That's a pretty nasty room.

Next, I turned to the Tome of Adventure Design by Frog God Games.  I used Table 3-124 "Specific Courses of Treatment for Normal Diseases" on page 216.   d100 = 73 = "Poultices of an expensive and noxious substance (1d4 days)."  So now I was looking for something to make a poultice.  (This was the second time while playing this game I had to look up the definition of a word I thought I knew.  See?  RPGs are learning games!)

I thought I better determine exactly what I needed to find to make this poultice, so I consulted the ToAD again, page 244, Table 3-166 "Plant or Plant Part," (which is a sub-table from the main heading of "Table 3-163:  Detailed Alchemical Ingredients Master Table"; I just skipped to the end).  Three d100 rolls = 47 "Salted," 25 "Blackberry," 24 "Grown in a cursed glade."  Whilst typing this up, I see that in my haste I originally mis-read line 25 for line 26; the real result ought to be "Black Truffles," but I think "Blackberries" is funnier so it stays.

So Glendal is in a storeroom littered with debris, which must have a table or cabinet of some kind, and he's looking for salted blackberries.  This is not exactly how I pictured my Hero's adventuring career!

Now for the trap that is supposed to be there, that kept the Cleric and his Looters from finding the salted blackberries themselves.

To detail the trap, I returned to ToAD, page 218, Table 3-127 "Mechanical traps - Concealment, Complicated Triggers."  First d100 = 35 = "Desk."  O.K., a desk can also be a table.  Second d100 = 07 = "A feather is suspended over a very delicate pressure plate.  If it is blown down by air currents, it will activate the trap when it lands (so would other very light objects)."

And what will the trap do?  ToAD, page 217, Table 3-126 "Basic Mechanical Traps."  d100 = 71 = "Spiked ball (or other heavy object) swings to hit."

I have very little Real Life experience with traps.  Effectively zero experience, in Real Life.  I've read most of the "Grimtooth's Traps" series of books (see also Goodman Games for an announcement regarding this line of books), and I always look forward to the 'trap of the month' in Knights of the Dinner Table Magazine, but truthfully, deep in my heart of hearts, I think most traps are ridiculous.

Take your most basic trap in any dungeon:  the pit trap.  You mean to tell me that these little 3-foot-tall kobolds/goblins/etc. dug a 10 foot deep pit in the middle of the hallway, through solid stone, on a route they travel often, and I need to tap a wooden pole along the way like a blind man to have any chance of finding it?  Or that they somehow engineered a room where the walls and/or ceiling move to crush with irresisible force and then retract back into their original place?  Why, then, aren't they in high demand in the dungeon-creating realms, demanding triple overtime for working on kobold holidays, and getting good employer-funded health plans?

Not to mention the (dare I say it?) unrealistic aspect of having traps in ancient, empty tombs, where dead people are buried; or on everyday objects, like doors and chests.  Just how, exactly, does one 'trap' a door's lock?  "The door is trapped."  What, the whole door?  Do they have a bucket of water suspended over the inside opening arc?  And how does that needle shoot out of that itty-bitty, teeny-tiny keyhole in the lock on the chest?  Is that really going to last the decades that this place has been sitting empty?

I realize it's very easy to simply hand-wave away all of this with the use of magic traps, but I'm talking the ordinary, mundane traps that are all-too prevalent in most written dungeons.  I also realize that it's unrealistic of me to allow my imagination to visit a world populated with elves, dragons, and magic, and yet have this be a huge sticking-point at the same time.  I think the best explanation is that traps represent a form of puzzle that the Dungeon Master presents to the players to solve.

I just like for a little realism to pretend to exist in my fantasy world.

And so, with all that being said, I felt the need for more details to help explain this feather-trap (I mean, what kind of a trap is that, really?).

Therefore I consulted the d30 DM Companion, page 12, table "RTG1:  Trap Type & Difficulty."  d30 = 2 = -10% chance to detect/disarm (this means it's more difficult to spot); and it's a barrier type.  A further roll on table "RTG2a:  Barrier Traps" table, d30 = 15 = "Iron Door" that will do 3d4 damage if it springs.  I figure the 'iron door' equates to the 'delicate pressure plate.'

As far as where the 'treasure' is, exactly, I roll on page 13, table "TCP1:  (Treasure) Container Type."  d30 = 10 = Ceramic urn/jar.  This fits quite nicely with it being in a storeroom.

For grins and giggles, I also rolled on page 13, table "TCP2:  Treasure Protection."  d30 = 11 = Hidden creature in a hidden area.  While technically the room is empty of an Encounter, Hazard or Feature, still I felt that this could be added without disrupting the Scarlet Heroes flavor.  I also felt it would explain the feces found earlier.  Something is hiding, as a separate threat apart from the trap, that is still somehow related to the treasure.

To determine what was hiding, I rolled d30 = 11 for 1 roll on the "Common" monsters column on page 15 of the d30 DM Companion.  I then counted down the list, excluding monsters that could not possibly be hiding inside a pantry/cupboard, and ended up with a total of 8 candidates.  I rolled d8 = 7 = "Giant Toads," which a further roll produced only 1 Giant Toad instead of 2.

And finally, I turned to GM's Resources:  Dungeon Dressing:  Chests by Raging Swan Press.  This particular issue has a table in it called, "Table B:  Dressing & Features."  I rolled d100 = 77 = "Shards of glass, as from a shattered vial, sit in a blue stain on the floor behind this chest."  Raging Swan has a lot of similar booklets to buy, and some seem pretty interesting, but some others seem a trifle thin for the price, even if that price is only a buck or two.  But I already had this one, and more ambience is almost always better than less.

Glendal searched for traps with full foreknowledge given by the Cleric.  I adjudicated that this would start at an Average difficulty of 11, plus the 10% extra difficulty of the harder-to-find trap equals the next-higher difficulty class of 13 (as I've done in two of the previous episodes of Glendal Lorg, when dealing with traps), minus the helpful foreknowledge provided by Fargle, finally equalling a target Check number of 11.  I rolled 2d8 + 3 (Adventuring Thief) + 1 (WIS) = 8 + 7 + 3 + 1 = 19!  Woo hoo, that's what I call passing a Check!

Found it.

Glendal then attempted to disarm the trap.  Taking into consideration its age and the missing feather/trigger, I ascribed a Hard DC 13 to the task.  2d8 + 3 (Adv Thief) + 1 (WIS) = 3 + 7 + 3 + 1 = 14.  Close enough!  Here's what is written on my paper:  "Opened, and out plops Giant Toad.  Am I surprised?"

One of the two special abilites of Giant Toads (the other being it can shoot it's tongue 15 feet) is that it surprises on 1-3 on 1d6 in normal OSR-style games (this as described in the d30 DM Companion).  However, there is no "surprise roll" in Scarlet Heroes.  Instead, it uses "Opposed Checks" to determine the outcome when two opponents are trying to accomplish mutually contradictory ends.  There is a specific example of a surprise attack by a monster described in "An Example of Play:  The Tower of Iron and Jade" on page 26 that uses an Opposed Check, so that's how I opted to resolve it.

I gave the Toad a +2 skill bonus for no reason other than the spider in the example had a +2, plus I figured it tied in nicely with a 50% surprise chance.  It's also a 2 HD monster.  I did not add more because it felt like the Toad wasn't attempting to surprise, it just happened to be in the cabinet (maybe it got stuck there?).  The Toad rolled 2d8 + 2 = 7 + 6 + 2 = 15.  Glendal rolled 2d8 + 1 (Keen Danger Sense) + 1 (WIS) = 8 + 2 + 1 + 1 = 12.  Glendal is surprised.

By surprising me, the Toad gets a free attack.

Letting out an amplified bullfrog croak, the loathsome, slimy, warty, green monstrosity hopped aggressively across the table and lunged to bite the startled Elf.  In the instant between surprise and reaction, Glendal had the stray thought that he didn't know Giant Toads could bite; did they even have teeth?; how much could this possibly hurt, really?

The next moment, the Toad's mouth closed on the Thief, and Glendal breathed a mental sigh of relief that there was no pain.  Having previously sheathed his sword, Glendal struck out with nothing but his fist as he tried to re-arm himself.  He landed a resounding thump on the Toad's head, causing the creature to pause momentarily.  But the Toad's ravenous hunger from being locked away accidentally far outweighed it's fear of being harmed, and it attacked again.  It's mouth closed again on the Elf's arm, this time causing a flare of pain as it bit down hard.

Glendal finally managed to drag his sword free of it's scabbard, and promptly skewered the vile creature.  Viscous green bile dribbled down the blade and dripped onto the table.  Glendal looked around for something to use to clean his weapon but didn't find anything suitable, so he gave it a good shake.  Digging a cloth out of his pack, he realized he now knew what had created the pile of dung:  this Toad must have been living here for some time.

Having sheathed his sword, the Thief began examining the jars and vials in the cupboard.  On a few the writing was still faintly legible, others he had to open and carefully sniff the contents.  Eventually the Elf's sensitive nose identified the salted blackberries in a small ceramic jar, which he placed in his backpack.

The Giant Toad's stats, as derived from the d30 DM Companion, are:

HD 2(+4), but Scarlet Heroes does not address the +4 part, so it's ignored

AC 7

Attack  bite 2d4

Move 9

Special  Tongue can shoot 15', surprises on 1-3

The Toad's surprise attack hit Glendal, d20 + skill 2 + my AC 5 = 15 + 2 +5 = 22.  However, it's damage roll of 2d4 = 1, 1 = no actual damage was done.

For my first attack, I rolled d20 + STR 2 + attack bonus 1 + Toad's AC 7 = 3 + 2 + 1 + 7 = 13 = miss.  My Fray d6 = 5 = 1 HD worth of damage.  Toad down to 1 from 2 total.

The Toad's next attack, d20 + 2 + 5 = 16 + 2 + 5 = 23.  It hits.  Damage, 2d4 = 1, 2 = 1 hp damage to me.  Glendal was now at 3 from 6 total.

Glendal's next attack, d20 + 2 + 1 + 7 = 10 + 2 + 1 + 7 = 20, exactly what I needed to hit.  I rolled damage, d8 = 7 + 2 STR = 9 = 2 HD worth of damage.  This is more than enough to kill the Toad.

Turn 15, still in Room 7:

Glendal Lorg the Visionary then removed a tin of ointment and treated his wound -- more of an abrasion, really -- from the Giant Toad.  This took a few minutes, after which he was ready to continue.  Now the question was, should he go downstairs and deliver the blackberries immediately to Fargle Nex, or should he obey that unspoken urge to continue exploring and go through the door into the next room?

I took a turn to regain the single hitpoint I had lost in the fight with the Giant Toad, putting Glendal back at 4 of 6.

I then rolled a Wandering Monster check, d6 = 3 = No.

Please tune in again, same Scarlet Hero-time, same Scarlet Hero-channel, for the further adventures of Glendal Lorg, Scarlet Hero!