When I was in training in Neanton, I accidentally slept with someone I almost certainly shouldn’t have done. Not in any immoral or illegal way, just in a way that was not a great idea because of who they were (Heir of the family fortune. Engaged) and who I was (Hi, I’m Sandwarn. Bard. Not engaged.). As a result, for the next few weeks it became fairly obvious who knew the family, and who knew of the incident, because I’d be going around town, or performing, or shopping, or something, and one or two of the members of the audience would look at me, and recognise who I must be after a few minutes, and then would glare daggers at me. My only available defenses – I didn’t know who they were; I was the target rather than the arrow in this seduction; Once again with the not knowing – were neither helpful or given time for. Eventually I faded out of the zeitgeist, and life went on.
Then, for reasons that pass all understanding, I got on a caravan and got involved in an – increasingly spiritual – plot to turn the world to chaos. I’m out to save the world, and I’ve lost my previous desire to profit from that. I must be ill.
Anyway, after saving the city from the influence of this evil metal stuff, lobbying some senators, foiling a rooftop assassination, and helping pass legislation to make the world safer; we returned to the Branded Goat – our chosen hostilary – for celebratory beer and less celebratory sleep. When we got in the barman said our friend had rented a private room for our business deal, and like a set of expert level fools we went to talk to whoever this person was. After all, we were in a crowded tavern, it would be folly to start something. We left the door open, just in case.
We met a doddering wizard, confused as to our presence. Then, he stopped being a doddering wizard and talked as someone who knew what the hell was going on – more than we did, even – and wanted to see our faces. He said something about “them being unwilling to test for him anymore”, and that “if we survive the next 24 hours” we should just leave him alone. Then the doddering old wizard form was back.
This is where the introductory story comes in, because I could see the moment where he recognised us pass over his face as he turned to rage. Unlike the irritated burghers of Neanton, however, this wizard – covered in jewelry of the corrosive metal, we noticed – attacked. Kate made him doubt his existence a bit, attacking him with an illusion. I suggested using the image of the dark figure we saw in the cave, but this didn’t appear to have any super-normal affect. The wizard’s first attack (Some kind of ice magic) nearly killed Kate outright, and came within a stoat’s fingernail of doing the same to me. Dave sprinted behind him and did the usual Dave With Sword thing a bit, which caused him to doubt his life choices a bit, and I healed myself just in time to duck as Brek saw fit to summon a herd of fucking warhorses into a small tavern dining room. The Wizard’s next lightning bolt undid most of the healing, but also knocked out the guy who was coming in behind us from the tavern – whose face had *also* become a mask of rage when he saw us. Eventually we cleared up, and by that time the tavern had mostly evacuated itself. The guard were called, who recognised us, and helped us get to the palace without further incident.
The same wasn’t exactly true when the guard captain came to see us, and one of his associates did the rage-face thing. We befuddled him until we could put a bag over his head, which broke line of sight and thus the spell. Now we’re under guard in a secure room in the palace. The figure said 24 hours, and we only just survived the first nine…
It’s going to be a very long day, and I didn’t even get to sleep with anyone to deserve it.