The sorcerer

(Acknowledgements to Wulfblade who originated this idea in their excellent story (Defeat By Modesty). They have since decided to edit that down, so I have moved my own contributions to this story thread. Apologies for any repetition or inconvenience this causes)

Background

You are a powerful mage, experienced in all the many ways of magik across time and space.

The only thing that matches your sorcery is your wicked sense of humour that gets you into hot water at times. There have been fights and duels and you have been incarcerated but you always find a way out, using either your fighting skills, your magic powers, your charm, or your humour; sometimes a combination of them all.

You have travelled across many worlds and dimensions with you younger sister as an apprentice but are currently separated after an argument (caused by one of your many jokes at her expense). As she seeks to find her own way and build up her expertise, you yourself have found yourself alone, wandering in a primitive, war filled world.

Currently you are in a busy marketplace where you have been confronted by a bothersome shield maiden for some unknown reason: you believe yourself to be unknown in these parts, although you have picked a pocket or two to sustain yourself along the way.

The woman challenging you is tall, finely toned and heavily armored but is not wearing a helmet. Her braided hair is pulled back from her pretty face. She’s spoiling for a fight and the prospect amuses you but, on the other hand you have other things on your mind. The wenches in the marketplace look quite comely and the frequent duelling in this land can become tiresome.

It would be such a welcome relief to retire to tavern with a frothy ale and some pleasant female company. On the other hand, you have your pride to think of.