The Dancer smiled over the tray. It had been simplicity itself to get this far. The red-nosed man in his polished black armor had been so pleased to buy her that drink, well he would have been, that was his favorite bar at his favorite time to drink. So many pretty ladies there too, all of them mere windowdressing to the vision that greeted him. The loosely bound black hair, so tantelizing to run hands through, those slim shoulders almost visible under a fine robe that hinted more than it revealed, that pale throat with smooth skin that promised further temptations, were that robe removed...all it took was a startled gasp, followed by a relieved smile as he 'accidentally' trod on the hem of her clothes, then stepped off to catch her as she stumbled, a little blush around her surprised eyes, a roguish wink from him, and he'd captured the attention of the most striking woman on the streets of Thorns. She couldn't have been a working girl, no. Not with that clear accent, the glow of health and the delicate way she sipped from her bowl.
No, he hadn't thought twice about bringing her to his office. He was the Junior Receiving Overseer! Sure there was a big shipment coming in tonight, but that just proved how capable he was! It had been the right idea to throw in with the Thornguard right as they were restructuring. Sure he'd had to grease some palms to climb so fast, but look at him now! He could whip some slaves, brutalize some subordinates and then sooth his knuckles with a little light paperwork and collect a fat coinpurse for a job well-done. Good sake, a wood-floored office with elegant cabinets for all his important papers, and now this creature sitting on a stool next to his confiscated ornate blackwood office chair and matching grand blackwood desk. Sure, soon he'd have to walk out to the balcony and look down on his men as they chivvied some wretches into the cages, but then he could return, make some light banter and wait for the numbers to be brought for him to sign his big fancy seal...yes sir, things were going great...and then the alarms blared.
He stands, bloodshot eyes casting about. What is he supposed to do again? Who, what? Where is that light coming from, why is it so hot? His sword it...the desk! He turns, groans, a pain in his chest, black eyes stare into his bloodshot ones, dripping, the taste of copper...
"Goodbye."
The Junior Receiving Overseer falls down dead, his sword, still dripping heart's blood raises above his body. Flames caper down the length of the blade, causing the blood to sizzle and pop. The Dancer smiles gratefully at the Overseer's body as fire spreads across the floor, the desk, the cabinet and its important bureaucratic contents, she needed to procure a disposable weapon on-site for this operation, and he had good taste in short blades. Striding out, she looks down at the chaos as fire consumes the office behind her, rendering her a dark silhouette against a background of conflagration. Her intel had been good, the raid was tonight. Time to make contact.
Spoiler: OOC & RollsJoin battle! Wits(4)+Awareness(5)+Fast Reflexes (1) +Stunt(2), spending 5m on Flash Fire Technique.
(3d10)[1][2][9](12)
(3d10)[6][2][2](10)
(3d10)[3][7][4](14)
(3d10)[2][6][5](13)
+3
Flash-Fire Second set:
(3d10)[6][4][9](19)
(3d10)[1][5][10](16)
(3d10)[3][4][1](8)
(3d10)[6][8][8](22)
+3