>>5459285One day, you are awoken from light torpor by the painful tingle and adrenaline rush of your <Danger Sense>. You spring from where you half-lay in shallowest slumber and draw your assassin’s dagger, casting dark-adapted eyes about to find the culprit.
Only to hear the Novice scream in fury and fear from the next room.
“No!”
You are at her side in moments.
It is not fast enough.
Your Fleshweaver clutches a seeping gash in her robes with one hand, mutters incantations and traces sigils in the air with the other. The wound is already sealing shut, and after a moment’s panic you realize it is shallow.
Not so for the dead elf—one of your hosts, the adult female of the house—who lays facedown on the ground, life pouring out of her opened throat, while her scale-speckled, goddess-touched offspring stare in terror , held in their father’s arms.
“Who did this?!” you roar. “Where is the slinking coward?!”
One of the tiny elf-spawn points to the offending party. She did not escape, though by her position near to the hovel’s sad excuse for a window, she likely tried. Unfortunately for the elf-maid, clad in finely-embroidered black silks, the Junior Novice was also present.
>6She is rather savaged—hand on one side of the room, mangled but still clutching a knife, while the rest of her whimpers and twitches before your dogfaced, dragonspliced slave, who whines with excitement and anxiety through a maw caked in blood.
His eyes are glowing. By the looks of things, it is psychic pressure which now holds the killer in place.
“Who sent you?” you demand, taking up station beside the Juniro Novice.
The assassin croaks, shudders, and fails to answer.
“S-Sambra,” the adult male of the household says. “That’s a knife from House Sambra.”
The home-invader is bleeding out, barely stable and rapidly deteriorating. The deadly agent of Prince Corandiirn of Sambra—the Assassin Prince—has paid for her offence with her life, or will soon.
But the one who sent her… How shall HE pay?
>This means war—take your forces and march on House Sambra, to raze that den of murderers to the ground>It is time to take Corandiirn up on his earlier invitation to visit him—and to ‘discuss’ recompense for this insult>Join your allies—especially the Queen—to demand formal elven justcie for this crime>Forget it—this is to be expected, and this sad attempt only shows how desperate your candidates rivals are becoming>Send your own counter-assassins, for TWO can play at this game>Write-in 