So… as it turns out, the ‘suicide’ wizard might be part of the ‘group’ (a term used fairly loosely in this context) that sent me that death scroll.
I also found out that the Super is technically a troll. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
So, with the ‘suicide’ wizard unconscious, the remaining wizards set about taking him into custody and the CEO set about examining me. His skill was rather far from Mitch’s, but he had a similar scan stick which could at least let him know whether we needed to send for Mitch.
Lucy was still leaking telltale streamers of fire from her fingertips and I got the distinct impression that if anyone did anything to me or hinted at it, they’d either end up burned or possibly even as ash. The CEO was even being very cautious, splitting his eyes between scanning me and watching Lucy, who was standing very close.
It’s more than a little unnerving I gather to see someone leaking rivulets of fire onto the floor. Alas, my headspace wasn’t in the right place, so I was feeling… well, I think punchdrunk would be the right term. It all seemed a bit funny, even though it had no right to be.
Something that got explained after the scan (which revealed more or less that the essentia and pillar had shielded me, since such a spell normally locks on to someone’s essentia and takes over from there), the wizards normally reside all over the world. An artifact fault requires a very special group of wizards and so they had been assembled here. The one who attacked me (or tried to at least) was out of South America, a guild member of the local wizards’ …uh.. Well, they’re not exactly a cult, but they’re… more or less, they’re a kind of non-baseline supremacists. But because of the way they’re structured, they haven’t really been a threat. Mostly a kind of radical group that the larger community laughs at.
This being the 2nd (and very proven) attempt on my life, the CEO assured me that he would be following up with the Council to take action. Odarth turned up (no idea how he knew to or if he was just in the area) and upon being told, he too assured me that the Council wouldn’t let this pass unpunished.
I’m not sure why, but the words of the gnome seemed to carry more weight than those of the CEO.
Now, getting back to my other point, the Super is apparently a troll. Not a ‘monster’ like in the fairy stories or a being of minerals. But apparently in this context, a troll is something like a step up from an orc. Without further context, this doesn’t really help matters, but I’ll do my best.
Think of the average fantasy orc, but picture one that’s impeccably dressed, clean to the finest detail and could pass for Henry Cavil (except for being half-again wider and ranging from very tan to very green). That’s what my local orcs look like, but that’s a separate story.
A troll is the next version of that. Normal young trolls (young being measured in decades, not centuries) stand about 7’ tall and could be mistaken for strongmen crossed with sumo wrestlers. The kind of beings who look almost giant-esque (and probably were mistaken for being ice giants in Scandinavia once upon a time).
The Super is a particularly old troll and so much of his height and mass has hugely reduced to look more baseline. But he still retains a lot of that trollish strength. The cane that I had seen him with previously was mostly for balance.
Based on some of the conversations that followed, if he hadn’t been a troll, he wouldn’t have been able to pull the errant wizard from the line-up. In theory, he shouldn’t have been able to do it anyway, but since the wizard was busy casting at me, he wasn’t fully anchored like the rest of them (before that anchoring was transferred to the vase/artifact and the pillar and by virtue of connection - the building).
The rest of the wizards weren’t exactly in shock, but were definitely displeased at this betrayal by one of their own.
By the time the errant wizard woke up, he was very firmly bound in some… unique looking cuffs, the runes of which looked to be essentia trapping. Basically, if he tried casting, the cuffs would trap the essentia intended for the spell. He tried to sputter out something about how I was not to be trusted and how all baselines were coming to get us (the us in this context being non-baselines) with me at their head, but the CEO blackbagged him, which shut him up immediately. (I learned later that said blackbags are practically soundproof and while not commonplace, were a necessary tool, given some of the failure modes of some spells.)
Odarth had summoned the local wizard police and the three turned up with all speed. They weren’t happy about the cuffs or the blackbagging, but it seemed to be more of a dispute on how to get him into the police cuffs and blackbag rather than just keeping him in the existing set.
Warren wandered down at this point, finding the mix of wizards, wizard police, gnome, a leaking Lucy (who was calming down and so only partially dripping fire at this point), the Super, and myself with almost a look of amusement.
“Seems it’s been an eventful day. Did you get it fixed?” he asked, glancing over at the pillar with the vase.
“It should be fixed, but we’ll need to come back with a different team to confirm it. This one is rather strained given today,” the CEO managed, starting to pack up some of the gear into a suitcase.
The other wizards began to follow suit in deactivating and disassembling the various constructs, including rubbing away the runic circle around the pillar.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The wizard police and the errant wizard left with some speed. Odarth seemed at a bit of a loss on what to do, so he too left.
“It might be best if you started carrying that gun more often, even if I don’t like it,” Lucy said, her voice closer to her normal register than it had been.
“That’s probably a wise decision,” the Super concurred.
“Perhaps, but then I have to deal with the baseline side of carrying it as well,” I mumbled.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure the Council helps fast track such things with a minimum of questions,” the CEO said, his face looking weary and his form stooping a bit.
So that was a day all by itself.
Let’s see… what else has happened since then and since I last provided a proper update… well, I could go into how I learned a lot about orcs and young trolls (first hand experience), Lucy’s most recent date (which I found rather interesting albeit strictly as a watcher), my first time up-close and personal with our local witch, or a small adventure that Rennet (the print-shop wizard) took me on shortly after I received my gun, but before I actually had any idea what it was capable of.
I think I’ll start with Lucy’s most recent date.
Lucy, being an ageless djinn, doesn’t, mostly of her own volition combined with the whole ‘non-baseline vs baseline’ pheromone/vibe thing that they have going, date. Therefore it is rather commendable that the young man who attempted to buy her a few drinks and then get her to plan to go on a date with him even tried.
Lucy, for her part, took it well. She hadn’t been on a proper date in years. I found it quite amusing watching her sort through her closet, trying to figure out what she wanted to wear.
Even though they were going to just a basic Indian restaurant, Lucy probably would have been halfway into a ballroom gown with corset, extra wide brimmed hat with feather, and a matching drape. If I were less of a good friend (or not being at least somewhat fashion conscious within the modern era), I might not have talked her out of it, just for the sheer hilarity of it.
This isn’t to say that she didn’t still look stunning in it. She did. She probably could have caused a few car accidents just walking down the street in such an outfit and not just because of the ridiculousness of the outfit.
Instead, I talked her into a not too revealing (and more comfortable) dark grey pencil dress with a slit to just above her knees on both sides and an appropriate set of flats (heels being something she just hadn’t bothered to master by that point). I joked with her on the latter, but given her normal height, I didn’t figure she needed the extra height.
I walked her to the restaurant and wandered off to the nearby pub, where Warren and I would meet up (and Lucy might come by depending on her date).
As it turned out, the young man (young meaning that he was about 25, compared with her indeterminate age) was hugely nervous at having asked said amazon to dinner. According to Lucy, it was a bit endearing at first, but got annoying quickly. Mostly because he seemed to bounce from one end of the spectrum of being afraid of her to the other, being almost misogynistic or patronizing, suggesting that he should order for both of them and similar 50-ish sentiments.
Lucy tolerated it through dinner and even a bit of dancing, which the young man didn’t seem to have time or inclination for. So they came over to the pub where Warren was in the process of finishing his 2nd Long Island Iced Tea and I was finishing my own dinner of steak, baked potato, and salad (sue me, I like my traditionals).
The young man appeared much less at ease (apparently more so than earlier) sitting at the bar with myself and Warren. He kept eying the two of us as though we were going to hold him at gunpoint for his wallet.
For my part, I didn’t much care for him. He reminded me of Jimmy Tavers from my high school days. Jimmy was always just a little too good for the rest of us. And while Jimmy was smart and even known to be clever from time to time, I didn’t get the impression that this young man had gotten the same brains or wit. Even if he had once upon a time had both, he was far too lacking in both in the face of Lucy, Warren, and myself.
Lucy was ‘done’ with the date by this point, ordering herself three of the alcoholic seltzers that she loves. The young man appeared to ignore this as a ‘hint’ and decided to suggest that the two of them should go back to his place.
I’ve known Lucy to giggle before, but this was no giggle. This was a full on rip-snort laugh that could probably have been heard clearly from across the street (as well as throughout the bar).
To say that he looked insulted was an understatement. He tried the usual blathering, but it wasn’t helped by the fact that he was stammering his way through his verbal assault of Lucy and of Warren and myself (in front of the whole bar no less). Conversations stopped to listen to this fool attempt to proclaim that Lucy should be honored.
Lucy grinned at this. Not a fun grin, but a clearly predatory one. I should know. I was wearing the same thing and I didn’t look over, but it wouldn’t surprise me to know that Warren was also wearing one.
His stammering got worse, particularly as he noticed me looking at him. At this point, he seemed to realize that the date was over and he should leave. It was at this point that the bartender/bouncer made him pay his tab and then banned him (immediately before ejecting him).
I’d say the rest of the bar clapped, but they didn’t. Mostly everyone just went back to their conversations or various observations of the comings and goings. One of the perks of being in a semi-tourist town I suppose.
The three of us finished up and walked back to the building. Lucy was quite energized, but was mostly put off by how entitled the young man had acted.
“I haven’t been practically ordered around like that before I was unbound,” she exclaimed, punching the air.
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” I admitted.
“What do you mean?” Warren prompted.
“Self-confident people are often very vain and, in my experience, very set on who holds power. More often than not, it’s them who holds the power, particularly over the rest of us. I’d say that I’m more surprised that he apparently ignored his senses about non-baseline vibes. What was he hoping for?” I asked.
“Probably a quick bedroom romp,” Lucy rather accurately guessed.
“Probably. Oh well, his loss,” I said. “Now, whose freezer are we going to raid for ice cream?”
“Not mine. All I have are drumsticks and klondikes,” Warren said.
“I still have a few mixed pints from my last foray into the Ben and Jerry’s section,” Lucy suggested.
“Clearly you two need to up your game. Alright, we’ll raid mine,” I said, rather affirmatively.
“Oh? And what makes you think we’ll just go along with that?” Lucy asked, no venom in her words, just a casual reference to the earlier discussion point.
“Because I have all the fixings for hot fudge sundaes and banana splits. Plus, if you give me a few minutes, I can probably see about some frozen yogurt and assorted toppings,” I grinned at her.
“Oh well, if you insist,” she grinned back.
And that’s where it ended. I’ll see what I can do about properly recording my missteps into an orc/troll bar, the local witch, and Rennet’s adventure (with me tagging along). But that depends on what happens between now and then.