"Stay back you fiends or I'll carve you up." I had drawn my sword, magic eaters almost universally don't have magical abilities themselves (thus their curse to sample others but never be able to produce it, like teachers only less suicidal). That didn't of course mean they didn't have fire arms, but it was the lands of the Red Hand, an area that hates fire arms almost as much as magic eaters themselves. The cocking of several pistols of course told me that surpringly anti magical people in a hostile land don't really care what the hostile people think.
"Drop your sword or we shoot you dead." Chubby wasn't playing around, and I could see that their guns looked to be Hanlon specials from having sold a few myself (ironic that saving that factory now screwed me, somewhere that freaky mist dragon lady is laughing at me) which meant even if I had my magic it would do me no favor. My sword thumped on the ground and one of the cultists clapped me in irons (oh anti magical shackles I had not missed you). Unarmed and effectively magically neutered they still kept their pistols trained on me (I guess I'm just that scary). They pushed me toward the coffin and told me to get in.
"You have to be joking me." I mean I'd purchased something that was cheap that looked fancy, I had no idea I'd be riding in the damn thing (though I was thankful I had not aquired a body to sell the illusion like I'd intended).
"Either way you are going in it Lorentino, decide now if you'd rather be breathing or not." So I got in the coffin. There I was captured again by a cult worshipping Morley who had set a trap at my trap to capture me because they really wanted to kill me and not Morley. I tell you its like I always say, I hate when friends come over for the holidays. Well that and "Shoo beggars if the gods wanted you to get gifts they'd have given you money to buy them!"
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