Castling
Twenty-Second Day of the First Month 293 AC
You never understood Tor, not truly, beyond his most base and fundamental desire. What you saw of him was unlovely to be sure, but was it any worse then what the likes of Saan did, still less Azema? Anger still burns in your gut... Why? A strange thing to fall into contemplation at a time like this. Yet if not now, as part of you already plans the best and swiftest way to take a life, then when? Behind your flesh-mask you have all the time one could ask for even here upon the busy streets of Pentos...
At last the answer comes to you: you wish to make an end of Tor 'Longstrider' because he compelled you and your friends into becoming complicit in his sins, naught but tools to his use, and serving no higher purpose than his own aggrandizement. You have done things dark and terrible, but never for so petty a cause as personal power. Whether it is virtue of pride that drives you is more than you can say, and just as you are unwilling to condemn a man to death on impulse so too do you refuse to be locked in eternal indecision.
After assuring yourself as best you can that the man before you is the treacherous Braavosi mage, you quickly catalogue his wards: a shroud of unseen armor and an anchoring in earth's strength just as you now bear.
It will not save him, you vow.
You motion inconspicuously to Ser Richard and whisper the plan in his ear upon a spell wrought of wind. Another man might have hesitated or at least questioned a slaying in broad daylight. Not so Ser Richard Lonmouth who has been with you since your days as a companion of thieves, murderers, and thugs. Honor has its place, but it is not here this day.
The two of you drift closer to Tor, though not directly towards him through the crowded marketplace. Where is he going, you wonder, even as you call on memories of old to borrow arcane powers not your own, spells not of war but stealth and deception.
You linger in the mouth of an alley, side by side, Ser Richard unseen as you are but also shrouded in uncanny silence... and then you cast forth an unraveling and on its heels you speak a single word. By its power you make your play like in Cyvasse. The world blurs with a painful lurch as even surprised and striped of his protections Tor almost withstands the spell by will alone. Let it not be said of the old man that he was not strong of will as he was dark of heart.
Around you shoppers gasp and point in shock... though more amazed than alarmed at seeing a man vanish into thin air. You swiftly turn on your heel. There you see with relief and, if you are being honest,
surprise, Tor lying in the alley in a rapidly expanding pool of his own blood. Just like that your task is done.
What do you do next?
[] Take the body and return to Sorcerer's Deep, you would not put it past Tor to set up contingencies in the event of his death
[] Store the body away and continue your watch.
[] Write in
OOC: Tor did have a small chance, but it was only small since you guys did achieve total surprise and you used clever tactics.