[ hhislast​ ]
All who truly could bear the title of assassin were capable of scaling walls and flying over rooftops, crows on the wing, running down their prey and claiming their kill.
He was pretty sure they weren’t meant to scale cliffsides.Â
Not me at any rate, Zevran thought to himself as he reached for another handhold, gritting his teeth. Frankly speaking, however, he had gotten himself into this situation; he had dropped his dagger, it had skittered away and fallen from the side of the cliff. Thankfully it had landed on an outcropping of rock, not too far away, and Zevran had figured that well, it wasn’t much of a descent.
He had immediately regretted the decision as soon as he had looked up to go back the way he came. But now, an hour later, he was finally heaving himself back up onto the path, and once on solid ground he lay there for a moment, out of breath. Sundermount was an unforgiving lump of rock.
