Desdemona breaks into a narrow clearing where moonlight silveres the trampled grass. Ahead, a lean middle-aged man waits in a weather-dark cloak, his drawn sword barring the path toward Lavendara.
His face is narrow and weathered, with iron-gray hair tied at the nape and one pale scar crossing his cheek. A dull red cord marks his otherwise plain attire.
the assassin
Blackwood. Your uncle paid well for this meeting, and I have no wish to disappoint him.
Behind Desdemona, branches sway and snap along the dark trail. The assassin has driven her here deliberately, her escape route narrowed to the waiting blade before her.
the assassin
Do not reach for the road. Do not call into the trees. This clearing is quiet, and it will remain so.
The sword tip lowers a fraction, steady rather than hurried. Perfumed wind from Lavendara barely reaches the woods, carrying the promise of the city beyond him.
✓ Quest Accepted
Secure the assassin's evidence
“But are your loyalties to him or to coin? Perhaps we could talk?”
SUCCESS (Superb Diplomacy, rolled +0)
Desdemona Blackwood
Are your loyalties to him, or to coin? Perhaps we could talk.
The assassin studies her across the silvered grass. His sword remains raised, but its point drifts aside, no longer fixed upon her.
the assassin
Coin bought my presence. Your uncle bought the name on my contract. Those are not the same loyalty.
He lowers the blade and steps toward a moss-covered stone at the clearing's edge, leaving the path open without fully turning his back.
the assassin
Very well. We can talk. I will hear what Blackwood's heir thinks her uncle's life is worth.
the assassin
If she offers more than coin, this meeting may yet become useful.
The forest settles around them. For the moment, the assassin's sword hangs at his side, and negotiation has replaced the threat of immediate steel.
“I will be honest.... I do not have much to offer you, since I fled in such haste, but I do have a family relic. A dagger made of rare materials. Surely selling such a fine piece would be worth something? Something is still far better than nothing, is it not?”
SUCCESS (Superb Diplomacy, rolled +0)
Desdemona Blackwood
I have little else to offer. I fled in haste, but I possess a family relic, a dagger forged from rare materials. It must be worth something. Something is better than nothing.
Desdemona draws the relic and extends it across the moonlit space. Its unusual metal catches the pale light, while the assassin’s attention fixes upon its edge and hilt.
the assassin
A Blackwood relic. You offer a piece of your family’s name to purchase your freedom?
He accepts the dagger carefully, testing its balance and inspecting the rare workmanship. The red cord at his wrist shifts as his grip closes around the hilt.
the assassin
This is worth more than a purse of coin, and less than your uncle fears it is. Still, it settles the contract.
the assassin
She gives up inheritance without bargaining for herself. Either she is desperate, or the rumors have misjudged her.
The assassin steps fully aside and lowers his sword. The trail toward Lavendara lies open, while the family relic disappears beneath his cloak.
“Sir, I thank you for your mercy. I have nothing left to bargain with, but could I ask one favor of you?”
SUCCESS (Superb Diplomacy, rolled -1)
Desdemona Blackwood
Sir, I thank you for your mercy. I have nothing left to bargain with, but could I ask one favor of you?
The assassin pauses at the edge of the trail, one hand resting beneath his cloak where the relic lies. Moonlight catches the scar across his cheek.
the assassin
You may ask. Mercy bought me silence, not obedience, but I will hear the favor before I judge it.
He turns enough to face her fully, sword lowered and no longer barring the road. The forest remains still around the clearing.
the assassin
She has spent her last bargaining piece, yet speaks as though courtesy still possesses value. Perhaps it does.
the assassin
Name it, Blackwood. If it lies within my power and does not revive your uncle's contract, I will consider it.
“May I ask for your cloak? If I were spotted in Lavendara, word would surely reach my uncle. I have no desire to condemn either of us to a grim end. A cloak could hide my face, and I could trek on elsewhere unnoticed.”
SUCCESS (Superb Diplomacy, rolled -1)
Desdemona Blackwood
May I ask for your cloak? If I am spotted in Lavendara, word will reach my uncle. I could hide my face and travel onward unnoticed.
The assassin considers her request beneath the cold moonlight. Then he unfastens the weather-dark cloak, revealing a plain charcoal tunic beneath, and holds the garment toward her.
the assassin
Take it. The road remembers faces less readily when they are covered. Keep to the lesser paths, and do not wear the Blackwood name openly.
The cloak settles into Desdemona’s hands, heavy with forest damp and faintly scented by smoke. Its hood is broad enough to conceal her horns and violet hair.
the assassin
You owe me no further payment for this. The dagger settled our bargain. Consider the cloak an investment in my continued silence.
He steps back into the moonlit clearing without his cloak, his scarred face stark against the trees. The trail toward Lavendara remains open, while the darker paths wind elsewhere.
the assassin
Go before dawn, Blackwood. By sunrise, I will be nothing more than another rumor among the trees.
+ New Item Acquired
Assassin's cloak
“Thank you. I won't forget this, or your counsel.”
SUCCESS (Superb Diplomacy, rolled -1)
Desdemona Blackwood
Thank you. I won't forget this, or your counsel.
The assassin receives her words in silence. Moonlight traces the scar on his cheek as the forest wind stirs the cloak now resting around Desdemona’s shoulders.
the assassin
Then remember the counsel, not the man who gave it. Names draw attention, and attention gives danger a road to follow.
He inclines his head, accepting the gratitude without ceremony. His empty hand falls away from the sword at his side, and the tension leaves his stance.
the assassin
Walk softly, Blackwood. Lavendara rewards those who arrive as strangers and punishes those who announce themselves.
The assassin turns toward the darker woodland, the stolen relic hidden beneath his tunic. Behind Desdemona, the trail descends toward Lavendara’s distant lights and its perfumed promise.
For a moment, only branches whisper between them. Then the assassin disappears among the trees, leaving the road open and his counsel behind.
“"Desdemona walks the path to Lavendara in silence, the hood of her newly acquired cloak raised."”
FAILURE (Mediocre Agility, rolled -2)
Desdemona follows the descending path beneath her raised hood, the assassin’s cloak muffling her silhouette as Lavendara’s distant lights shimmer through the trees.
The trail abruptly ends at a ravine split through the hillside. Recent rain has swollen the darkness below, carrying broken branches and cold mist beneath the shattered bridge.
Desdemona Blackwood
The bridge was destroyed recently.
Across the gap, the proper road continues toward the city gates. On this side, muddy hoofprints turn sharply uphill, vanishing among thornbushes and leaning pines.
A small bronze bell hangs from a post beside the ruined crossing, its surface marked with Lavendara’s flower sigil. Beneath it, fresh red wax seals a folded notice.
Wind worries the notice until one corner tears free. In the moonlight, a few words become legible: ROAD CLOSED BY ORDER OF THE CITY WATCH.
The ravine blocks the direct descent, while the unmarked uphill trail offers the only apparent passage. Lavendara remains visible, near enough to promise arrival and unreachable for now.
✓ Quest Accepted
Reach Lavendara
“Can I reach Lavendara by following the hoofprints uphill?”
YES, BUT (Likely, rolled 64)
Desdemona follows the fresh hoofprints uphill, threading between thornbushes and leaning pines. The path climbs steeply, but the marks remain clear in the rain-softened earth.
Near the crest, a thorn catches the assassin’s cloak and tears a long strip from its hem. The sudden rip of fabric echoes through the trees, and the hood slips back from one black horn.
Desdemona Blackwood
The cloak is damaged, and my concealment is no longer complete.
The hoofprints pass through a weathered stone arch hidden among the pines. Beyond it, lanterns gleam along a narrow service road behind Lavendara’s outer gardens.
Perfume-laden air rises from the city, mingling with wet earth and crushed flowers. The uphill trail has delivered Desdemona to Lavendara, though the torn cloak now marks her passage.
Ahead, the service road bends toward shadowed garden walls and a small postern gate. Somewhere beyond those walls, bells murmur softly in the waking city.