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Not much clank yet. The mail shirt doesn't so much clank as jingle, but one thing at a time. Anyway. I'm back from Maelstrom Event 1, more or less unpacked and still kinda tired.
It was an awesome event. Over the course of a four-day event I sang, ate, fought, charged, fled, gambled and slept, at least a little. The next one can't come soon enough (about fifty-five days, for those as are counting). I don't actually want to say too much about it here, because there's the risk that other players might run across it, which could be bad for my character and his friends in future sessions. I'll talk about it happily enough (indeed, I've found you'll be hard pressed to stop me once I get onto the subject).
As is usual in my posts, I've tried to use an amusing but relevant title. This one was a little harder than usual, but I think I've managed. Today's title revolves around an ... accusation that was made mostly in jest on Monday afternoon by my in-game employer after the final time-out had been called. Like many society ladies, she had a lot of appointments to keep, and I happened to have a timepiece that looked appropriate for use in character. Thus, she referred to me a lot for the time and, most of the time when I had her back and things looked bad, she was busy trying to do something else. Thus, apparently it seemed to her that I was less of a bodyguard and more of, in her words, a "chainmail pocketwatch". I suppose it's all about perceptions really: if it appeared I was doing nothing at all, I guess I was doing my job right.
That said, of course, I'm slightly worried now that she might have, secreted somewhere in that outfit, a pocket large enough to hold me...
Still. When we're all in character, that sort of thing fades away, much like most other things. Sleeping and eating, for one. It's surprising how much the character overrides you when you're immersed in the setting for three days straight, leading to things like one and a half square meals a day, drinking bottles of mead without blinking and running up and down the field in heavy armour. My shoulders hurt for days, AFTER the event was over.
Finally, I suppose I should mention the other puzzling side-effect of setting-immersion. I very consciously entered the festival in character, and met the group of which I'm now a part in character. Consequently, I hardly know the people behind those characters. It's a strange sensation, walking up to someone you've stayed with for pretty much the entirety of the last four days, conversed with, laughed and sung with, and finding you have nothing at all to say to them. Quite disconcerting. I have the choice of either getting used to it or getting to know the players, as well as the characters. I suspect we all know I'll choose the latter.
How did it get to be 2AM? These weekends, they are bad for you...