#istor

Ah, Indra, Isbeth and Istor, the wolf pack. Some people join the Zhent but you were born to it.

Let's face it, intelligence isn't your strong suit but you're more loyal to the Network, or at least your people in it, than some incredibly lucky agents we won’t name.

You're tough, fearless, capable. You won't move up the ladder and frankly you don't want to. You're useful enough that you probably won't be sacrificed and your lack of ambition means you won't be backstabbed.

You'll survive, just don't expect to be rewarded too handsomely.

Z’ress: “That's because you're a moron. I'm not here to kill you, Istor.”

Istor: “Why not?”

Z’ress: “Because I'm better than you. Always have been.”

Istor: [chuckles] “Well, I've always known that. So why are you here?”

Z’ress: “To give you my condolences. I'm sorry you lost your brother. It doesn’t feel real right now. Later, for a long time, it’ll feel impossible. You will carry him with you for the rest of your life. One day, you'll realize he's been gone longer than you knew him. It's horrible, terrible, tiring work. It's duty. It's love. None of it will ever be right. [pause] Ildan deserved to die. But nobody deserves what you’re going through. So. My condolences.