I’m not exactly certain what happened at the festival, but I am certain that whatever it was has entirely fucked over our chances of intercepting the Delshtan family Coldsteel shipment. First, Salf Delshtan was killed by whatever blast went off before the portal opened, and his knockoff spidersilk robes did little to protect him or the documents he carried within them. Second, I was attacked by the Casbah’s very own shit sheriff during the aftermath (after being stabbed in the ass by some sniveling gnome, mind you), and forced to join his merry troupe of do-gooders in order to maintain my disguise. Third, the new girdle I got from Nowhere isn’t worth its weight in wyrm droppings, and busted in full view of everyone. The jig is up, as far as Duke Gordo goes with this group. I’ll need to have words with Nowhere next time I see her… if there is a next time. Not looking forward to that.
Currently staying the night at the home of Sheriff Shit himself. The rooms don’t smell as bad as he does, but near it. Also mixed up with a halfwit from hay-ville, a dwarf who just crawled out from under a rock, and a dragonkin who I think would fall over if I looked at him hard enough. Ain’t life grand.
Oh, and assassins are being sent after us as well. The lot of us were assaulted over night by Drow thugs wearing golden masks. Almost didn’t make it out of that one, the rest of the group is lucky I was here to make sure we pulled through. If it weren’t for the fact that I seem to be on someone’s hit list, I’d be out of here already. Not that the security here is great (obviously after tonight), but considering my circumstances, I’d prefer to surround myself with people who seem to be willing to die for any fool’s errand than those I actually care about.
Speaking of security, and the lack thereof, perhaps I should make use of this night. One of those constructs carried a fancy looking wand of explosion that he could recharge with simple hand motions and common reagents, on the fly. I could make good use of such a thing.