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Female Dwarf Rogue Level 1 | S11, A11, I10, W9| HP 18\18 | DEF 11 | Move: 8 | Insanity: 1| Corruption: 0| Fortune: No | Status: Normal

Ugly sits heavily down on the stool next to her workbench. The formula that had been haunting her was finally complete. The retort on the bench slowly dripped the last of the distillate into the receiving flask. When the contents dries, it will be ready.

Ugly removes her thick leather chemist’s gauntlets and rests her face in her hands. She knows she shouldn’t have stolen the formula from Shakes’ private collection. She feels terrible for betraying the old man’s trust. It hadn’t even been difficult - she’d just walked right in to his office and started going through his desk. He trusted her enough that she had a key.

The old bastard shouldn’t keep such things just laying about, her inner wickedness whispered. Just because he’s too much of a coward to use them doesn’t mean we have to be. If the Imperial Army hadn’t wanted to keep these formulas, they should have destroyed them.

Ugly sighs and stares into the middle distance. “What am I doing?,” she says to the empty laboratory around her, “Stealing from an old man? To gain what? If this had worked the Empire would still be using it!” Ugly moves to start disassembling the distillation apparatus.

NO! the wickedness says, staying her hand. The Empire is full of milksops and water-bloods. If they’d had a spine they would have sent help when we NEEDED it! Now they’re going to pay us back! We’re going to take their secret weapons, and USE them! Use them the way THEY NEVER COULD!

Ugly stares at the flask on the table, her knuckles white as she grips the edge of the table. This power is OURS, Slevin. The old man was too weak for this. He was too weak to try and make it for the Empire. And he was too weak to destroy the formula to protect it. Destiny saved it. Saved it for US. Now finish it.

Ugly steels herself and removes the flask from beneath the still. “I can’t be helped. I need it more than he does.”

Drawing her knife, Ugly makes a short, deep cut on her forearm and quickly pulls the flask beneath the wound. Thick red blood runs across her skin and dribbles into the flask. It wasn’t the first time Ugly had shed blood to ensure victory. It seemed likely it wouldn’t be the last.