EltonJ wrote:
He does so ;) Inspiration: 1d6 ⇒ 5 Total Spellcraft result is 33. Does he find anything fishy? :)
Zak listens in silence at first. His fingers rest lightly on the haft of his spear - not tense, but poised. After a moment, he speaks. "Confusion can be accomplished" - he says, though his tone makes it clear this is no boast - "But confusion without control? That becomes noise. Sloppy" He steps forward slightly, angling his body so he can study the speaker more closely. "What exactly is the matron’s will in this? Does she want chaos… or deniability? If guards are killed on sight, if we leave bodies in the corridors and witnesses behind… any illusion of misdirection will dissolve. That cannot be undone" He folds his arms. "Should we point the trail to another House? Or leave no trail at all? We can try to plan either - but not both" His eyes narrow faintly, calculating. "If this is to be a clean fracture, we’ll need to know where the cracks are meant to show"
Taelith Odara - Oblodra wrote:
S$#*, really sorry to hear about it. Really no words to describe the pain of losing such a friend.Hope when his time comes it all happens in peace and without suffering.
Zak rose before the spire had finished its slow cooling, already awake in the still-darkness. He never truly slept deeply - not here, not ever. A faint glow from the alchemical burner in the corner illuminated the cramped stone chamber. A trio of vials simmered quietly atop it, their contents shifting hues like venom in a serpent’s gland. He leaned in, inspected one, sniffed once - acrid, metallic, almost right. He adjusted the flame, then stood, rolling one shoulder with a quiet pop. No prayers. No mirror. Just a splash of water over the face, a moment to sharpen the questions in his head, and the day began. He dressed with practiced precision: the worn chain shirt first, then the buckler strapped snug to his arm. Tools were checked, poisons capped. The lacquered case of extracts clicked shut with finality. A silvered morningstar slid into its loop low across his back, and a cold iron longspear - polished, barbed, and beautiful in its own way - was taken from where it leaned, upright and waiting like a sentinel. By the time the heat in the spire dimmed, he had already stepped out - not rushing, simply moving with quiet resolve. Some people woke to light. Zak woke to intent.
Vierkacha Vexidyre wrote:
Ask Lolth for one? ;) |