Rolled 19, 9, 9 = 37 (3d20)
>>5466711>>5466607>>5466504>>5466382>>5466358>>5466342>>5466129>>5466026>>5465995>>5465932>>5465892>>5465818You take a moment to carefully consider your feelings on the matter and realize that, while you ARE upset, the initial spike of adrenaline and anger ahs long since faded.
“No, not mad,” you confess. “more… Impressed than angry.”
Ivno and Olu both look at you with surprise and even concern, but with a gesture and a look they fall back a step.
“I could see my way towards employing such skills for myself.”
Azonia the Duelist is now the surprised and concerned one, looking about as if for spies now surveying HER.
“What is the matter, Duelist?” you ask her. “You are one of the city’s mercenary soldiers, yes? From a lesser noble house?”
“What? How did you—?"
“I have connections in high places,” you interrupt her by way of explanation. “As you well know.”
She pouts slightly.
“I anticipated meeting you here, you know,” you say. “You are not of Minothel’s House, you only frequent it. Your won house is in a clientistic relationship with Tlintear, but not an EXCLUSIVE arrangement, not an especially close one… Except for you. You take many jobs from them, speak up in their favour, treat their house as your own, strive for status and belonging ithin it. Why? Why Tlintear?”
Azonia the Duelist sighs in defeat, more willing to admit a loss on the field of spycraft than swordplay.
“The parties, the fashion…” she smiles a grim little smile, eyes narrowing. “The surface-steel, the opportunities. And, like I said, they know how to perform a proper sword-dance. They know the value of mastering an art.”
You nod slowly.
“So treasures from the surface, excitement, the opportunity for combat and to improve your skills through concerted effort… Have you heard the good word of the Serpent Ascendant?”
She groans, and moves to turn away, but you stop her.
“Imagine joining MY forces in fights against great beasts like the Ghoul Supreme… Or Shoggoth… RO Devourer… And doing this on the surface, where wine and foe-blood flow like water, and every slain adversary leaves you with your pick of colourfully-dyed fabric for expert Dwarven craftsmen to stitch the finest of tabards and gowns for you.”
She pauses in her retreat, and looks over her shoulder at you through narrowed eye.
“The price?” she asks, characteristically straight and to the point.
“Tell me what you know about the assassin who came to my followers’ home, to injure my Fleshweaver and kill my elf.”
[Leadership check]
