Taking it Easy

(with apologies to the Eagles)

Well I'm shadow walking down the road,
tryin' to loosen my load
I've got seven women on my mind,
Four that wanna own me,^*
Two that wanna stone me,^**
One says she's a friend of mine,^***
Take it easy, take it easy
Don't let the sound of your fellow PCs
Drive you crazy
lighten up while you still can
Don't even try to comprehend [languages]
Just find a place to make your stand
and take it easy
Oh we got it easy
We oughta take it easy, yeah

^* Cassandra (employer and representative of our liege), Sorscha (arcane Medusan puppetmaster, reluctant ally in our resistance to the secretive Medusan Lords), and the mysteriously beautiful woman who kissed me in the streets of Valen, giving me a coin from long-lost Mourn and a note that she has what we seek. That's only three women, I know, I don't know about the fourth one yet but I'm sure she's out there.

^** The High Elf Queen, whose clutches we so recently escaped, and a mysterious Aranea assassin who invaded our suite at the inn and now lies dismembered before us.

^*** Livia, the Elf who joined us. Don't know much about her, but she seems too smart to be hanging out with us. The contrast to our recently-departed (in both senses of the word, but in the wrong order, it's complicated) Ili couldn't be greater: Livia shows tolerance, restraint, and a preference for hanging back and choosing her actions carefully. I still miss Ili, and I'm sorry we couldn't save her.

Things are getting heavily weird again, with string-pulling at all levels. We're working for Sorscha against Nassiral Hate, but not directly. We're looking for the guy, who worked for the other guy, who works for Hate, based on where he was 25 or 30 years ago. It was terribly complicated even before the mysterious woman and her coinage of Mourn showed up. We follow a trail long-dead, and as usual we're floating around without a clue, being manipulated by unknown (but drop-dead gorgeous) forces. Fortunately, our usual strategy seems to be working: flail around and lull our opponents into a (false?) sense of security, then respond with an unpredictable mix of compliance and violence when they show themselves. We may not know what we're doing, but at least we're dangerous. Very dangerous. Critical hit from a dwarven waraxe dangerous.