Role

Chapter 7

Been a long while since I've been back in Seantryn proper, feels like.

Well. Not that long, but mostly its just passin through, you get me? Not
really stoppin to take it in.

But that Iskrith laddy from the chasm has tasked me to cause a magical
destructive disaster, and lets be honest here: where else would I go? We've
got unfinished business here, and he might be thinkin this would be tough
me not being a mage, but Angram Freth'aran's got his ways.

The Dragon's Head is the same as ever. Busy, full o' patrons. That'll do.
When they get to running this'll just be that much sweeter, ya know? Well,
not for them, but it'll just make this finer.

I could've put it all to the torch, and to be honest: I reckon that's what
Iskrith's expectin after our chat. Its tempting, because I do love a bit of
the arson to get me going in the mornings.

But I've got a different fire in mind tonight, see.

Noone noticed at first. Just sittin casual in the corner, ya know?

Me and me suffering pal here.

Then the first patron began to bleed out of his eyes, and people started
panicking. Too late though. The scourge is a hell of a thing, and I'd got
this one express delivery. Mages are so often so easily turned to your
purpose for such supposedly smart ladds and lasses.

I let 'em go, of course. They'd be spreading this particular fire all
through Seantryn now that the kindling be lit, and that's just fine.

Iskrith be wantin a disaster?

Angram Freth'aran drained the last of his beer. As shite as it always had
been here.

Seantryn Modan be on fire tonight, and the flames be in the blood.

Time to dispose of this mercenary. Can't be havin him whine to the guild
about breach of contract now, can I?