The smell of black powder suffuses the marksman's rugged clothing, a remnant of each deadly shot. Bracing the musket against their shoulder, the sniper takes a long, steadying breath as they draw a bead on their target, adjusting their aim for the immense distance between them. Muttering a prayer and beseeching their god for a clean shot, the marksman pulls the trigger. An agonizing moment passes as the bullet travels through the air like a lead meteorite—then the target crumples to the ground, a neat hole drilled through their skull.
~ Played by Colby - d4 (D&D Optimized)
