DoT: A More Narrow Escape

Werril felt his magic surge as he made the transition, and did his best to brace himself. A wild surge could be good, bad, weird, or all three. In this case, he arrived at the wood-and-rope bridge to discover that he was surrounded by copies of himself -- illusions, shifting and changing places. It wasn't terrible, but it was eye-catching in a way that he he very much did not need right now.

He made it to a small platform before a woman hailed him from a side-bridge. "What happened?" she asked. "Are you in danger?"

He turned and managed not to visibly wince. This wasn't just one of the Red Blades gang; this was one of their cultists, the ones who marked their clothing and armor with a red teardrop. He shook his head, and opened his mouth to lie...

What he meant to say was, "I took a shortcut, and my magic decided to be weird." 

What actually came out of his mouth was, "Misty step to escape, and my magic decided to--" He caught himself. "Uh-- that is, I'm a wild mage."

"Ah," she said, but her eyes narrowed. "And what were you escaping?" She gestured towards the cloud of mist below them. "What happened down there?"

Werril sighed. It would be great if his magic had seen fit to give him access to Invisibility, but it hadn't. Okay, next trick... He tapped his staff gently on the ground and smiled. "Well, it's a good thing you're here, friend. Why don't you go down and take a look?"

For a moment, she looked dazed as the magic took effect. Then she smiled. "Good idea. I'll do that. You should come and help."

"I'd love to," he told her, "but I really need to get on with my business." The images around him were fading, finally. "Why don't we catch up later?"

"Yeah, I-- is that screaming?" The Red Blade sighed. "I'd better go see what's going on. Take care, my friend."

Werril managed not to sag in relief before he hurried away. He was going to have to find a better way to hide himself.

DoT: Confrontation

It was two days later when Varna Blackhand finally came down the bridge that Sairen and Byron had chosen. Varna was a fearsome figure, dressed in black and red, his missing left arm replaced with a mummy's withered appendage. He looked around casually, but didn't appear to see anything amiss. As he passed, Sairen hissed, and the other four turned away from the soup cart and began their attack. 

It was an open bridge in the early afternoon, which was more public than Werrill would have preferred; the problem was that anything that kept them out of sight would have made it more obvious that they were up to something. Still, if they could finish the job quickly, they had a good chance to be gone before more redblades arrived or anyone else got a good look at their faces. Byron, the halfling cleric, opened their strike with a Guiding Bolt. Melia followed that up with Web, spreading a mass of sticky strands between two storefronts to block their target's escape. Werril was already casting as well; he threw an ice knife and then followed it up with a quickened Ray of Sickness.

Varna staggered and turned, just as Sairen came up on his left, stabbing Varna with his rapier. Danna was coming up on his right, axe in one hand the flaming blade of her sword in the other; she cut him, but missed with her axe. It didn't matter, though: before Varna had a chance to react, Byron tagged him with another Guiding Bolt, and he collapsed. 

Surprise achieved, thought Werril, and whistled sharply. He and Byron hurried forward, while Melia pulled a scroll from her belt and began casting from it. A moment later, fog covered the bridge, hiding their movements and their faces. Werril made his way by feel, pulling Byron along with him. Their job was to spread out the seemingly-abandoned bundle of cloth that lay against the rail of the bridge. Danna appeared a moment later, carrying Varna's shoulders while his head lolled freely. Sairen had the man's feet -- and, it seemed, his purse -- and the two of them dropped the body onto the cloth. Werril and Byron rolled everything up and secured the ties; then the four of them lifted to corpse and tossed it over the side of the bridge. It was harder than it looked; the cloth had been weighted with rocks. 

Then they were moving again. Melia, coming up behind them, paused just long enough to turn Danna invisible and then herself. Byron had given himself the seeming of a dwarven beggar, while Sairen had given himself the appearance of an elven woman. Werril didn't have access to any such illusions, so he strolled to the edge of the fog, looked up at a bridge overhead, and took a Misty Step up to it.  

DoT: Fatal Decisions

"He's irregular," said Sairen, the dark elf. They'd been taking turns following Varna Blackhand, the foremost lieutenant of the Red Blades, for a week and a half now. "Everybody has habits, but he's careful to vary his."

Melia, the human wizard, scowled, and Werril couldn't blame her. He disliked Sairen only slightly less than she did, but ever since they'd been plucked from prison the five of them had been stuck together. Working to undermine the thieves' guild, or at least that was the assignment. Their initial efforts had set off a few minor conflicts, but as they grew in skill and confidence they had decided on another goal: they were going to take it over. 

Gods, I would have loved to be responsible for the death of Anderlin Greycloak, Werril thought, then shook it away. They were back to inciting violence between the lower city gangs, and as far as he could tell --- and the halfling Byron and the dark elf Sairen both agreed -- the Red Blades were likely the easiest to provoke. They'd need a success here before they could move to interfere in the middle city. 

"We know where he sleeps," said Melia, their wizard. "But it's their headquarters. We can't take him there, and we don't want to take him anywhere within easy earshot of that place."

Werril nodded. He wasn't much of a tactician; most of what he did was listen to the others, help integrate their ideas, and keep them from each others' throats. 

"If it were myself alone," Sairen said, "I'd simply wait near there, follow him, and take him out. With a group like this--" He managed to keep the contempt out of his tone, but only barely. "--our best bet is to station ourselves along a likely route and ambush him when he comes along it. If we pick a good spot, he will -- sooner or later."

Byron nodded, the halfling's expression untroubled. "I think that's the best we can do."

"Heh," said Danna. "You just tell me when and where, and I'll be there."

Werril opened his mouth to caution her, then closed it again. Livethern had told them what Varna was capable of, and if Danna disregarded that, well... that was on her. Their patron could pay the cost of restoring her, if that was what it took. "Sairen, Byron... you two choose the place. The rest of us will figure out how to use it to best advantage." 

DoT: A Discussion

"They haven't engaged," said Livethirn, looking around at his charges accusingly. "You killed the fence, didn't you?"

"Fuck you. We did what you asked," said Danna, putting a hand on her sword and glaring at the elf across the table. She was human, frustrated with their servitude, and easily goaded to anger. 

Werril sighed. He was a half-elf, and far too used to being caught in the middle of arguments. "We killed the fence. Word is, the Mist Eyes found him and brought him back. If you want, we can make him dead again... but if you want them at odds with the Red Blades, set us against Varna Blackhand. We can take him, I promise you."

Melia, their wizard -- a not-unattractive human -- nodded agreement, and the halfling cleric Byron shrugged.  

Livethirn considered that for a long moment. "As you wish," he said. "They'll think it an attack and respond in kind. That will serve nicely."

"I'm glad you agree," Werril said, holding back his sarcasm by an act of will. 

"Then make Varna your next target," said Livethirn, and rose from his seat.  

Music: Simple Gifts (and various other titles)

Played by Lee Leavenworth:

Music: Burn Down This Town

Roseanne Cash:

It comes and goes...

I'm finally starting to dig my way out from the huge load of work that fell on my head with the big upgrade at the end of December, and we're bringing in some additional resources to deal with a Big Important Project that seemed to have run aground on some fairly intractable issues, so my stress levels have suddenly gone down...

...Which is weird. Like, on the one hand that's a good thing. Less stress! Hooray! I can function better! And then on the other hand, my whole system is like, Wait? What happened? How does this 'relaxing' business work, again? Overall, it's good. I'm just glad it didn't take any longer. 

Burnout is a real thing, y'all. 

Writing Projects: Currently working on the portal fantasy, which means that the Weird West and Horny Superteens projects have been somewhat neglected. (There are only so many hours in the day, and my energy has been going into, well, being stressed out.) But, I'm still making progress... and I wrote a completely random short piece the other morning that I'm going to try to get published, if I can find the right venue for it. 

Also, with February doing its best impression of late April, my allergies have been acting up. At this point, I'd honestly prefer another ice storm. Some kind of winter weather, anyway. This time of year used to be pretty safe for my seasonal allergies...

I'm not going to talk about news or current events right now, because it's all so bleak and I will wear myself out with relentless rage. I'm limiting my exposure in an attempt to be informed without doom-spiraling, though part of me suspects that doom-spiraling may actually reflect an accurate evaluation of the current situation. 

Anyway, I have good friends and a good family, and a kitten who is determined to eviscerate the mechanical toy bird he got for Christmas. Good to keep those moments in mind, too.