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Zak Quotes

Browse 15 quotes about Zak.

Zak Quotes

“Perte miye Zaknafein!” the orc cried, and all of the Boscaille soldiers similarly stopped and shouted, in the next refrain. And then, “Perte miye Zaknafein,” the fifty thousand Callidaeans chanted in unison and harmony. On and on it went, louder and louder with each refrain, and the Merry Dancer lights above seemed to sway and dart with every syllable. Fifty thousand voices lifted in the chant. Fifty thousand aevendrow, kurit, Ulutiuns, and arktos oroks jabbed their fingers to point at Zaknafein, this stranger they did not know, this poor fellow who had stumbled upon their land and seemed to be in the last hours of his life. “Perte miye Zaknafein!”

“It is hardly just the matrons and their priestesses, though. As this has sorted, there seem many more against our revolution than for it.” “For many reasons, though,” Zak reminded. “Fear of their matrons and of Lolth, of course. Or simply fear of this unknown future the Baenres have offered. They know the way it’s been, for the entirety their lives, even for those whose lives have spanned centuries. They know their place within that truth. They know the boundaries, the lines not to cross, the acts that give them gain and those that offer only pain. What do they know of this promised world beyond Lolth, particularly when it, too, from their perspective at least, will be under the designs of House Baenre?”

“Consider this part of your journey a growing experience,” Jarlaxle explained. “You don’t have your son’s scimitars anymore. Do you think I would allow my second—” “Kimmuriel is your second.” “He’s the other half of my first. In my part of Bregan D’aerthe, in my, shall we say, personal journeys, you are my partner.” “You called me your second. Now I’m your partner? And does Artemis Entreri know of this new arrangement?” “We’ve a fight coming. Are you going to argue about everything?” “Titles matter.” “What would you prefer?” “Your better,” Zak said, and he pulled the eyepatch from his head and tossed it back to Jarlaxle.”

“He is drow,” Zak answered before Jarlaxle, who was now floating back down. “As are you—you cannot levitate?” The surrounding aevendrow stared at him as if they had no idea what he was talking about. “Now, this is an interesting turn,” Jarlaxle said, setting down beside them. “So it was the Faerzress all along, the barrier to the lower planes, which gave us this inner magic.”

“He stared at it for a long while, hating himself for having to so manipulate his friend yet again. That thought surprised the drow; when in his entire life had he ever felt such a twang? In his betrayal of Zaknafein those centuries before, perhaps? He looked at Entreri again, and he felt as if he was staring at his old drow companion.”

“Not one but three rays came forth in response, each splitting to strike at Zak and at Galathae. The first made him feel heavy, as if his limbs were wrapped in thick metal. The second made him realize that he couldn’t win and should flee for his life. The third showed him the truth of the world, that the real monster here was Galathae, and so he should strike at her! But he looked at her, bathed in holy light, serene and yet focused in her efforts to resist the rays—the same rays that had hit him.”

“Zak thought of his homeland, Menzoberranzan, the city and the cavern that had stood for millennia. Every drow family tried to put their mark on it, be it with circling stairways flowing from stalactite to stalactite, highlighted with faerie fire of varying hues, but those were such little details, he thought. He was sure that the city looked very much as it had soon after its founding.”