Derak I am myself. I am canny, brutal, experienced. I laugh at the gods. I delight in life. My foes meet death swiftly. I am a former master-assassin with memories of deep and disturbing magics. I am short and swift, with dark hair and contemplative eyes. My superior knowledge of mechanics and clockworks can be… Continue reading Cast Page
I catch her hand gently between of my own two. I can feel her tense up in front of this odd and human gesture as I gaze directly into her eyes. — Miss Lamy, I can’t thank you enough for this service. After tonight we are even in all meanings of the word. Her discomfort… Continue reading Scum and Villainy
Arranging to spy on the conspirators at the Three Lanterns should be a simple matter. The proprietor, Miss Lamy, is the sort of merchant you liked to leave in silent debt through your career, as opportunity presented itself: prideful, but ultimately unable to make it up to you, at least four or five years back… Continue reading The Spycraft Thing, then
So, it is here where the threads of different events of past days seem to be woven together. Longax whitehairs and that Gabaldon-fellow who was in need of my services. I have an ominous feeling he is behind all of this. A young, rising star could very well profit from great turmoil that would drop… Continue reading Connecting the Dots
You leave the inn with instructions to hold onto your newly purchased luggage for the moment, being as how you have nowhere else to send it to right now. Such mundane details hold little interest to a man on a mission, though. Been on a mission for a few days now, haven’t we? You get… Continue reading Some More Puzzle Pieces
The awakening comes horribly, like for a man held too long underwater and gasping for breath. My body feels completely exhausted, yet my feverish mind pulls me up, as alert as ever. It is not morning, but afternoon, considering the direction of the shadows in my room. The events of last night, they had to… Continue reading Rude Awakening
I recorded the dialogue: ——I—— Daag sits, you sit… Papak sits as well, conspicuously scraping the heavy chair as he does. You can only see a dark silhouette of him in the candlelight. No features at all. Go on, dive straight into the bit. No need to talk about the swamp thing at all. He’ll… Continue reading Patronizing trialogue
