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I allow myself a few indulgences dispite my attempt to keep a low profile. I really I thought I had been doing a good job at blending in with these people while I wait out the enchantment; I've stashed my robe and satchel in a safe location and bought myself some drab frock coat, I'm even wearing a pair of jeans. I am in a word: stylin' So imagine my suprise when a panhandler stopped me on my way to the local shop to pick up a book or ten.

Times are hard in Tombstone now that the silver veins are drying up. Itinerant prospectors fill the streets, asking for handouts or a bite to eat when they can. The man who stopped me though, wasn't asking for handouts. He stood outside of the provisions shop and asked everyone else who entered to spare a coin. He was disheveled and had a magnificent grizzled beard that I envied fiercly. When he saw me, he fell silent, reached into his pants pocket and handing me the letter below.

Sir,

I believe we are at a disadvantage. You seem to know us, though we do not know you. You are obviously a man of some talent judging by your time in Rastenfeld: dealing with our operative was impressive enough, but then razing the village to the ground...we can do nothing but to grudgingly admire your efficient ruthlessness. Your following us to Tombstone has caused quite a stir in our organization, and it has become necessary that we meet. I pray that you would be amiable to talk? Perhaps there has been some misunderstanding that we can somehow rectify? I have been authorized to tell you that we are willing to negotiate.

My carriage will be available on the corner of Fremont and Allen Steet this Friday at 3 o'clock. I hope to see you there.

William P. Dovetail

The panhandler had been mesmerized, his vacant expression told me that much. He wandered off in a daze and left me to my thoughts.

Obviously my cover is blown and whoever I am dealing with knows I am here. And they have ties to that kiddy necromancer in Rastenfeld who I slew with skill beyond compare...
I need to consider the possibility that these are fellow time-forsaken and could have knowledge useful in getting back to Legend and MG. My Hermetic-senses are telling me to be catious, and I will, yet I think I will see this William and his organization. If they had meant for me to be dead, I'm sure a hail of bullets would do the trick. They could have done this at anytime.

I could just as well sit and do nothing. The hourglass tells me that the enchantment will expire in less 42 days, but what if it expires and instead of taking me back to Quickley's, I'm stuck forever in some magicless backwater. I should at least have a plan B.

Posted by Rowane de'Dannan on Wednesday, March 21, 2007 at 10:11 PM | Permalink