Doing an open attack is quite the step for you, Derak. An endsman prides himself on his untouchability; a mad amok is what the desperate or gullible would do. But then, you’re not an endsman anymore. And it is true that even means that would slow or avert an endsman will do little against an… Continue reading Yeah, I am rather shameless
Plotkin seems comfortable with the situation, so you sit down and let him do the talking. The two of them ignore you outright, with Plotkin brushing your presence off as easily as he does his own nightshirt. Theirs seems to be a relationship of easy banter. This place, though; you remember having visited the Cytheral… Continue reading If not love, then perhaps money?
Plotkin has been taking glances at the door as you tell your tale, when he’s not staring at your appearance. When you finish, he leans forward on his bed and places his hand on your knee. — Thank you master Derak, Plotkin says with assurance. — I can see how the violence of the night… Continue reading Night at the Monastery
You look over at Chrysal, but it’s too dark here to see much without Cat Eyes. The City is dotted with lights, but those are down below, and the Moon’s langurous beams are kept out by the half-intact walls. She could move a pace to get out of the shade, but that would be moving… Continue reading Discussing Love
I recorded the dialogue: ——You—— I thrust my mainblade through Albin’s throat. He crumbles next to his two friends. Before anyone can act, I grab Chrysal by the shoulder and push her out of the tavern and into the cool evening air. It is only then that I notice the blood. Albin managed to cut… Continue reading Art of Romantic Jaunting
The conspirators continue discussing their plans. You tilt back, your head against the corner, slumping on the chair in seeming obliviousness, only barely avoiding sliding down under the table. It is almost like being inside the booth, you can hear most of what they say. — That’s all well and good, says an unfamiliar voice… Continue reading Everything at once, why not
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
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
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
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
Derak in the Scarlet City 