'Hearing' the burst of telepathic rage at his passing-- something like dimensions being ripped like cheap cloth as the bitter, infuriated soul of the ambassador flees this dimension, Ithi'Ka pauses in the darkness, peering out onto the vast room below from an exhaust vent colored a motley of patina and brass.  She lifts her hood gently over her peaked ears and white cowl of hair, becoming one with the shadows, and slinks gently back to whisper into her ring.  "What did you just do back there?"<br/><br/>She is careful to muffle the noise with the hem of her cloak, despite its minute sound in comparison to the noise of battle and machinery.  She continues.  "I found source crystal, and controls,"  she mouths almost soundlessly.  She puzzles again, her thin white brows furrowed, on the sound of the battle's conclusion.  She thinks back on what she knows of Xen'Drik, and how the lorekeepers told of the titans' fall to forces like these, wrecking all but the best of the breed into the savage, freakish hulks that most giants had become.<br/><br/>At that moment, she feels the pressure of something foreign at her waist, and finds, protruding from her bandolier mid-back, Garrett's sneaky little present.  "Hm."  He must have known she'd have no chance at the Ambassador with her bow... "Apparently, I have dispel wand, too.  Wish it could blow this place to hell."  She surveys the devout below like a looming wraith, studying them from her perch in the shadows where the eerie green glow can't quite reach.<br/><br/>Her breathing is rhythmic and all but silent as she looms over the vast room beyond, her glinting eyes disappearing behind darkened glass lenses as she settles her sundark goggles over her uptilted, metallic-white eyes.  She draws from her haversack an exquisite set of thieves' tools, unrolling the outer layer of oilcloth to reveal a polished leather case beneath, tied neatly into a compact roll.  She loosens the ties praying silently that her actions may be the death's sting that lays open the bloated belly of these sanctimonious cretins who hide behind masks of devotion...<br/><br/>(oh fuck rolltime.  just pick what matters.)<br/>Hide: 1d20+12=24<br/>Move Silently:  1d20+12=20<br/>Spot: 1d20+10=17