[A poet who happens to be an assassin. Soryk laughs. That... awkward, eerie laugh of his. The haughty one. Gods, those elves. If he never seemed superior before, he sure likes to laugh like he is.

Or maybe he's just taking some lessons from Seth's sinister behaviour.]

A dish best served cold. Is that a human idiom? [He chuckles.] On the contrary, heated revenge is a bit... thrilling, no? There is nothing quite like watching life leave the eyes. When it belongs to someone other than you, anyway. Makes you feel like a god and that is a feeling you can get in no other fashion.