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A Plan for Chaos
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- In a Mahogany Wardrobe in the Chosen's Room X: 109 Y: 1004
Text
How weakly the city slumbers above, safe behind its walls. It forgets what lurks below. It must be reminded.
If the tyrant wishes them to suckle his accursed teat, I can make them crave it. My sweet assassins set to stalk their hearths and stifle their throats. My changelings will turn the very face of hope against them. Master choking apprentice, father hacking down son.
This city will butcher itself soon enough. And the lordling will be powerless to stop it.