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Rincewind was running through the wilderness, with his hat and nothing else. With the benefit of hindsight his idea of lulling Flemeth into a false sense of security by going along her deal had probably on a little longer than was absolutely necessary. Still could be worse, sort of, at least he was still alive. Judging by the witch's less than subtle allusions he was a good deal more alive than most men she had encountered over the years. Still running naked across was probably not the best way to continue. He had already trodden on some rather jagged rocks and his initial sprint away from Flemeth was almost ruined by landing arse-first into a patch of brambles, thankfully he still had the element of surprise at that point. Now however he approached the road on a bitterly chill morning, nose running and cheeks red from the cold, both sets. He just got onto the road when-
MAGE!
SMITE HIM!
Before Rincewind could even look alarmed he was hit by three rather powerful Holy Smites. An excellent counter against magic and any would be magic users. Even if it did look a lot like magic itself. But it wasn't, because the Chantry said it wasn't which of course made it completely and utterly true.
The naked wizard fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. He was completely unconscious and showed every sign of staying that way for some time.
"Erm… are you sure he was a mage?" asked Ser Samwell, he was the youngest of the trio and also the youngest of a large farming family near Redcliffe. He had joined the Chantry's Templars for regular hot meals and decent sleeping quarters rather than any particular devotion, still it was a living.
"Of course!" Snapped Ser Stannis; he was the ranking officer, a fierce and relentless proponent of the Chantry's most uncompromising attitudes towards mages. "Who else but the foulest Apostates would run about the woods naked? No doubt enacted some dark, daemon summing ritual to slaughter the innocent in cold blood. Such is the way of unshackled mages!"
"Of course" said Ser Tyrion the third Templar, a hardened cynic who had been compelled to join the Templars by his family to avoid scandal. His own thoughts on the matter were to get it sorted quickly so they could head towards the inn, and the innkeeper's daughter. "Still we should probably ask questions before Smiting travellers in the future. This one is odd though; there is some weak magic there but… well let's get him in the wagon, nights closing in."
"Throw this creature in with the other one and make sure he is thoroughly shackled." Snapped Ser Stannis to his juniors, he always felt happiest when mages were bound, for all sorts of reasons. "We will see what the Knight-Commander decides."
"We should probably get him some clothes first, can't let him freeze to death before his sentencing" Ser Tyrion added, keeping the sarcasm muted near his humourless leader.
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Flemeth watched the stunned Wizard being dragged away with some disappointment. Her latest pray had proven surprisingly elusive, despite his total lack of courage or magical skill.
Honestly it was the most fun she'd had in years.
Still let the idiot Templars have their prize; there was little time and could not spent drawing the attentions of Chantry attack dogs. Great plans were in motion for the world stood on the precipice of change. Although who knows what that would entail now that such… visitors had arrived? Perhaps the precipice was far greater than she realised.
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"How in the name of the Maker did we end up here?" asked a very disapproving Wynne for the tenth time.
Truthfully Odin himself was somewhat surprised to be hiding out in Denerim's most exclusive (and therefore outrageously expensive) brothel. But in spite of the circumstances he was rather enjoying himself.
Not in that way. He after all had somewhat limited funds.
The group of five had managed to get into the Capital without any difficulty. Evidently the guards were not expecting the notorious Grey Wardens to make an appearance, while hordes of refugees were all too common. After being delayed by the Chantry job board they hit their first problem. A very honourable but not very intelligent Knight had recognised the two Wardens from Ostagar and, having lost friends and decided that the Grey Wardens were to blame, challenged Odin to a duel. Thankfully Odin's silver tongue managed to persuade the Knight that the other Warden's death by Darkspawn was not in fact a fiendishly clever plot to seize power and destroy the nation. The Knight left without a fuse and the City Guard were undisturbed by any potential 'disorderly conduct'.
Unfortunately they had less luck once they found Brother Genitiv's house. The Scholar was away and something suspicious was going on within his walls. The Group's interest was first piqued by the overpowering smell of a dead body coming from one of the backrooms. The man who greeted them, after a short fight and a very through questioning turned out to be an imposter hoping to stop anyone from following the Brother's trail to an obscure mountain village called Heaven. After going through Genitiv's notes it was clear he believed that the Urn of Sacred Ashes was there. Annoyingly the village was on the other side of the country, quite close to Redcliffe where this whole wretched task had begun.
The next stop proved to be just as unpleasant, albeit for completely different reasons. Alistair's hopes of a happy reunion with his half sister were quickly shattered. The woman clearly had no use for a brother who had, in her view, killed her mother in childbirth and left her destitute, unless of course he had a large sum of money to give her. A completely disillusioned Alistair left and, against his original plan to get out of the city as quickly as possible Odin decided that his Comrade in arms needed to be cheered up. In the traditional Dwarven fashion this meant copious amounts of cheap ale. After that things really fell apart.
After the third or fourth tankard Odin (who had considerable experience dealing with unpleasant relatives, thanks to his drunken mess of a mother) had just gotten to the importance of standing up for oneself when they were identified. The City Guard arrived; their large numbers an attempt to make up for a total lack of experience or skill. They were evidently hoping not to share the bounty with Loghain's men and believed they could take care of two slightly inebriated Grey Wardens and their friends.
They were wrong.
Odin had a rather blurred memory of what happened next, he was relying on his well honed survival skills at the time, which tended to make a dwarf miss a few details. The alcohol might also have had something to do with it. He defiantly remembered a number of freeze bombs and acid flasks being thrown by Zevran, Leliana and himself. Then chaos; with a full blown bar fight erupting which was a useful distraction. He did smash through a window to freedom but did he leap through or was he thrown? Anyway he landed in a muddy puddle and ran into some convenient twisted alleyways. It was there, as they were catching their breath and deciding what to do that they found the poster:
"Don't believe the lies! Friends of the Grey Wardens assemble. The hidden pearl holds the key to resistance. The griffons will rise again."
Naturally it was Zevran who pointed out that 'the hidden pearl' was referring to a brothel. Odin distinctly remembered offering a bet to anyone who thought it wasn't a trap. Sadly there were no takers. Sure enough once they arrived (sobering up as they did so) the owner of the establishment, a rather elegant looking woman by the name of Sanga confirmed, silently, that it was indeed a trap. After the four heavily armed but completely outclassed soldiers were dealt with, another second rate ambush idea from Arl Howe, Sanga was grateful enough to let them stay for a few days.
In those few days Odin and the group had come up with increasingly hare-brained schemes to escape the city. Of course detailed escape planning within the confines of a noisy brothel had its' own problems. Zevran had been disappearing repeatedly, always returning with very satisfied look on his face. He was not the only one, though Leliana tended to be more subtle about it and looked guiltier once she returned. Alistair meanwhile had been in a near permanent blush since they stepped through the door, to Odin's eternal amusement, while Wynne just tended to scowl.
In spite of his amusement Odin knew the situation was bad. It was only a matter of time until someone talked and they were no closer to finding a way past the Guards. Odin half-heartily returned to sketching his latest plan.
"Warden, forgive me for interrupting but is that a catapult?"
Odin looked up "If we build it on a rooftop close to the walls it could work."
This statement was met with blank stares.
"Be fair, it isn't the worst plan I've come up with."
"Somehow my dear Warden that is not very reassuring" responded Zevran.
"Do you have a better plan?"
"As it happens I don't but I know someone who does."
Zevran went to the door of the room and beckoned someone over. That someone turned out to be a rather dashing woman, wearing a lot of gold, a couple of daggers and not that much else.
"May I introduce Captain Isabella, Queen of the Eastern Seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn" he turned back to her "And Isabella my dear, this is our illustrious Grey Warden leader."
"Charmed" she said in a rather smooth tone giving each of them a once over. When her look reached Alistair his near permanent blush returned, she smirked. "From what I've heard from my old friend you need to get out of the city pretty quickly."
"Exactly so, what's your idea?" asked Odin getting straight to business.
"I have a… friend who I sometimes sell goods to, he's in the city but will heading west tomorrow. He has an… arrangement with certain members of the City Guard that means his cart is never searched. With my persuasive skills and a small payment he'll get you out."
"Can he be trusted?"
"He's a greedy bastard but he keeps his word. It's bad for business if he doesn't."
"A trustworthy Smuggler, that'll do nicely."
"Excellent" exclaimed Isabella "I'll sort the arrangements as soon as you pay up."
"Pay up?" Asked Odin with a slight sinking feeling "and here I thought you were doing this as favour for your old friend Zevran."
Both Isabella and Zevran laughed at this.
"Nice try but I'm afraid I'm out of favours where Isabella is concerned" Said Zevran with a smile.
Isabella leaned forward so she could whisper into Odin's ear "It's nothing you can't afford I promise. All I ask is an afternoon with the blushing blonde over there."
Odin's eyebrows rose at that. He murmured "You want me to pimp out my friend and comrade in arms as payment for our escape?"
"Yes"
"Deal"
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After a couple of hours Rincewind awoke with a splitting headache and a queasy stomach. He didn't remember getting drunk. Then he noticed the chains.
"Oh Sod"
"Tell me about it"
Rincewind sat up and looked at his fellow captive.
"The name's Anders, welcome to life in the jolly old Circle of Magi."
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