Role

Chapter 2

Iroenyphe bent over the parchment, her tongue sticking out one side of her
mouth, penning missives for her Fortress brethren.

Her, the Marshall! Was this enough? Wanting, trying to better? She was not the
most accomplished assassin in the guild, nor even the most tempered assassin
of the Fortress. But she had been given this responsibility by Baerinika, and
by the Gods she meant to do give it her all.

She stood up and stretched, her back cracking from sitting too long. Taking
out her father's pipe and taking a long drag, she wondered what he'd think of
all this. Her, a deadly assassin, now helping to lead the Fortress - the same
he had happily told tall tales about, around the fire at night. He had loved
those old stories, of knights taking the fight to the Darkness. Saving those
in need.

She wiped the mist from her eyes, and put her hand on the hilt of Darkbane.
For the Light. For her father. She would do this. Would there be trouble along
the way? Always. But she meant to face it with bravery and conviction.