Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20170520212120/@comment-5543592-20170521061004

"I feel I have a personal interest in figuring out who is responsible for this." Lambert said, dusting off his robes as he was pulled to his feet. He frowned at a tear in the fabric.

"Normally, I would rely on Szeth for these more martial aspects, and feel oddly short-handed without him."

Szeth zipped through the air, clothing ripping around him. He didn’t lay flat and extend his fists out or anything dramatic when he used this ability. It was like a giant hand had picked him up by the scruff of his shirt and carried him quickly along. His feet hung over the empty air and he held his arms slightly out by his sides, palms facing down. Szeth had summoned the mask over his face. Its magic worked similar to his sword, where it didn’t exist unless he wanted it to, and it was bound to him. He could lose hold of it, but the mask would disappear on his command and reappear on it as well. The mask would be his until his demise, upon which the Skaal would send people to reclaim it. The Skaal possessed numerous masks, nine in all, and each contained powers as potent and fierce as Szeth’s.

He did not hate the mask, even though it was the burden upon which his sentence was build. It did not get bloody, nor did those familiar with him recognize it when they saw it. That was good—it was a tool, nothing more. It was not to blame for the killings, he was. He only wore it now to protect his eyes from the wind.

Szeth dropped from the sky suddenly, sending himself plummeting face first towards the ground. The fall was not controlled, it was a reckless pursuit of death. The earth loomed before him, and Szeth resisted gravity’s pull once again, so that he was drifting into a soft landing.

He could not levitate forever. His magicka needed to regenerate—it was the only limitation to what he could do.

Szeth glanced to the right as a party of men emerged from the bushes. They were men-at-arms, and a knight was among them. They bore the crest of some Breton house. The symbol was familiar to Szeth, in passing. He’d seen it once before.

(Flashback)

Szeth approached the party. They were celebrating some holiday. It would be ended soon. Szeth was here to kill everyone.

His current oathmaster had given him simple orders. Kill everyone in the room without exception and be seen doing it. Szeth wondered why, what someone could possibly gain from killing the entire Bergama nobility and its monarch. How anyone could benefit at all from the chaos that would bring, all that death.

But Szeth did not ask questions. It was not his place. He obeyed. His honor did not permit him questions.

The Bergaman Keep had a great hall where the party was being held. With a vaulted ceiling and wide open floor mostly filled with tables now for the feast. The floor was raised three steps at the back of the room, making up the King’s high table where he sat with his dukes. The festivities were ending soon, so there was more quiet conversation than eating at this point. The doors hung open but guarded, and Szeth approached them.

He was not dressed as a servant. Instead he wore a ridiculous tight leather outfit of black and red as well as a black cloak and hood. His oathmaster wanted him to look the part of an assassin. Szeth would’ve preferred something made of loose cloth. The leather restricted his movement, outlined his shape as an easy target, and his opponents could grab hold of the cloak.

The guards stopped him, one lifting his spear to ward Szeth off. They were not trained in the sword, as they weren’t men-at-arms or knights, merely soldiers of some kind, but likely sergeants, as their weapons and armor was well hewn and composed primarily of steel.

“Halt. No one is permitted to enter the hall at this time.”

Szeth did not answer. The hallway stretched before him, lanterns hanging from stone walls, the ceiling low as it approached the doorway into the keep. He was a heretic, walking on stone like this. But the southerners built everything out of stone, so it was required to fulfil his duties, regardless of how Szeth felt.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth continued forward.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I said stop.”   The guard repeated, he and his comrade lowering their spears.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth continued towards them in a walk, then stopped twenty feet out, and took a deep, calming breath. He began to glow alight with magicka, a visible aura of violet energy steaming off his skin like boiling water from a pot.

<p class="MsoNormal">The lanterns of the hall winked out one by one, first from the far end, up to the guards, who bracing themselves, in a mild state of panic. The hallway was dark, save for Szeth, who glowed faintly, and then exploded with light. The Skaal broke towards the guards in a death sprint, tearing the cloak from his shoulders and tossing it aside as he did so. He held his right hand out to his side, as if preparing to grab something.

<p class="MsoNormal">The first yelled, stepped forward and thrusting his spear at Szeth. Szeth jumped to the side towards the wall, and landed on it feet first, the guard’s attack missing him completely. The soldier recoiled, disoriented by now having to fight someone who was standing on the wall, but didn’t get the chance to think much about it as a sword formed in Szeth’s outstretched hand. A massive Daedric claymore, six feet in length, with a wicked singled-edged blade that was serrated at the hilt and then undulated slightly along the blade’s length in an almost crescent shape. Water dripped from it, as there was a fresh sheen of dew on the blade, like Szeth had summoned it from a grassy field.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Daedric weapon!”   The closer guard shouted. They were unfamiliar with Szeth’s abilities, but they recognized something as deadly as that sword well enough.

<p class="MsoNormal">The soldier thrusted at Szeth again, and the Skaal checked it with the safe edge of his blade, knocking the spear thrust of target. He then leapt forward, falling from the wall to the floor, and slammed his palm into the soldier’s chest.

<p class="MsoNormal">The man shot towards the ceiling, up becoming down for him. Landed head first, and fell flat, disoriented. The second soldier yelled, and drove his spear towards Szeth, who was still in motion. The Skaal turned, moving faster than was natural, a faint outline of violet light following him. His sword dissipated into nothing and he reached out, grasped the length of the spear. He jerked it away from the soldier, whilst ramming his shoulder into the man’s chest, forcing the guard to let go of his weapon. Szeth then cocked his arms back, and slammed the butt of the spear into the guard’s mouth. The man’s head snapped back, most of his teeth shatter or cracked, bits of enamel flying to the floor and was thrown off balance. Szeth spun the spear over his head, bringing the point around, and it slicing cleanly through the soldier’s throat in a whoosh of air.

<p class="MsoNormal">As the body dropped to the floor, Szeth turned, holding the spear point up, towards the ceiling, beneath the soldier still trapped there.

<p class="MsoNormal">The man yelped in fear and surprise as he released what was about to happen. The magicka that had switched gravity for him in the first place was wearing off, and he slowly began to slip from the ceiling, like wet piece of paper that had dried out.

<p class="MsoNormal">He began to scream, first lowly, and then a high-pitched wail as down became down again, and he landed with an audible crunch chest-first on the spear point.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth let the spear fall, the guard’s body halfway up the weapon and strode into the hall. He closed the iron doors behind him and cast levitation on both, making it so that one door was being pulled towards the other.

<p class="MsoNormal">He’d gotten attention now. Nobles were rising from their seats, women in gowns, men in extravagant regalia. They were craning necks, trying to see what the commotion was about.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth summoned his blade, and it’s appearance was greeted by several cries of shock. He stepped towards the nearest table, and with a careless swing, decapitated three people. The hall broke into pandemonium as they watched the bodies slump to the floor and blood fountain. Screaming filled the air as everyone made a dash for the exits. Royal guards had blocked off one, to escort the king through. At the high table, the monarch was already surrounded by several of his men, while others were coming to meet Szeth.

<p class="MsoNormal">The Skaal stepped forward, disappated his blade again, and laid a palm flat on a table either side of him. Casting levitation on it several times over, he made down the direction of the king, and sent the heavy oaken tables towards the ruler at terminal velocity.

<p class="MsoNormal">The guards coming for Szeth threw themselves to the floor to avoid being hit and Szeth could see, before one of the flying tables blocked his view, that the king and his guards were doing similarly.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth took a running start, leapt up onto one of the tables, and then shot into the air like an avenging angel, claymore in his hand once again, glistening.

<p class="MsoNormal">He swung below him in broad sweeping strokes, trying to kill as many of the hapless nobles as possibly. The point of his blade cleaved a woman’s head open down the middile, it’s razor sharp edge took of a man’s arm. The claymore could cut through almost anything, and never blunted.

<p class="MsoNormal">He slammed down on the king’s high table, wood cracking beneath him as he rapidly levitated himself towards the ground, increasing his hold on the earth.

<p class="MsoNormal">A guard swung a warhammer at him and Szeth caught it at the haft, suddenly as dense as a block of iron. The thrust his sword forwards, through the guards chest, and then leapt down, advancing on the king. Three more guards stepped in his way, raising two swords and a battle axe.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth did hesitate, lunging forwards. The guards didn’t break, instead all extending their weapons forward so they could impale him when he tried to charge, but Szeth had other plans.

<p class="MsoNormal">He changed gravity for himself, so that the ceiling became down, and it pivoted upward, his feet doing a 180 so that they were pointed toward the sky. He sailed upward slowly, before moving at a quick pace, until he was behind the guards and then dropped back down again.

<p class="MsoNormal">One smooth stroke cleaved through the spines of each, despite their armor, and the men crumpled.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth turned around, just in time to raise his blade and block an attack from the king who had slammed greatsword down at Szeth, the weapon brought over by four guards coming from weapons’ racks on the side of the room. One of them was in Ebony armor, and had a sword and shield to match, clearly the bodyguard.

<p class="MsoNormal">Blood covered the floor in shallow everpresent pool behind Szeth, and bodies decorated the keep, slumping over tables, tossed across the floor, all lying in awkward positions, most of them dismembered in some way.

<p class="MsoNormal">Killing was the greatest of sins one could commit. But Szeth had no choice. He was Bloodless, he did what his masters commanded. He was crying, he realized, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. He had no choice.

<p class="MsoNormal">It’s their fault.   He rationalized, raising his sword as the king and his men advanced. Their fault for being too weak to kill me.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth stepped forwards to meet the attack one of the guards, the hilts of their swords locking. Szeth reached out, touching the guard’s sword, and cast levitation on it several times, increasing the weapon’s weight exponentially.

<p class="MsoNormal">The man was nearly pulled off his feet as his weapon became too heavy to hold, and Szeth sliced open the man’s back with a quick downward stroke. He sidestepped as the second, third, and fourth guards came forward to meet him, avoiding a stab meant for his side. He swung out in a wide arch with his much longer blade, forcing the guards back.

<p class="MsoNormal">One of them lost his balance, stumbling onto his heels, and Szeth was on the man in an instant. The guard barely had time to register the claymore being thrust up under his chin, the blade entering his brain, the point cracking through his skin like a bird hatching from an egg.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth tore his weapon free, taking most of that soldier’s face with it, and slammed his claymore forward in two-handed parry as both the guard in ebony and the other remaining solider attacked at once each of them going for a different side. He cast outward with levitation, drawing both of the soldiers’ swords to his own, and was able to catch both swords on his blade. He braced his feet to keep his balance against the men’s combined strength. Their surprise had having had their own attacks redirected was visible, and Szeth used that to his advantage.

<p class="MsoNormal">Stepping forward, pressing his weight against the locked blades, he kicked the regular soldier in the shin with the point of his toe, and cast levitation through it. The man was pulled off his feet like someone had tackled him around the waist and was thrown towards the wall on the opposite side of the room, seventy feet away. Szeth didn’t bother looking to see the mess it made.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth disengaged from this last guard, the one in Ebony, stepping back to gauge his opponent.

<p class="MsoNormal">This man appeared skilled. Perhaps he could kill Szeth. End his torment. Szeth had been Bloodless for far longer than he desired. Every day he rehearsed the events in his mind that had led to his exile. His wrongful exile. His sanity demanded that he had been correct about what he’d discovered. His honor demanded he’d been wrong.

<p class="MsoNormal">The killings had to mean something.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth stepped forward, sweeping his claymore in an overhanded chop at the ebony guard. The man raised his shield, the blow sliding off its smooth surface, and thrust a stab towards Szeth’s side. Szeth angled his body to avoid the stab, and leaned into his sword, putting more weight onto the man’s shield. The soldier seemed to understand what Szeth was doing, and stepped underneath his shield, holding it overhead, bracing it against his shoulder, whilst trying to get inside Szeth guards. He brought his arm back to deliver a close ranged stab for Szeth’s stomach, just as Szeth cast levitation on his claymore, making the weapon weigh as much as a mammoth.

<p class="MsoNormal">The shield acted as a sort of sandwhich press, almost flattening the ebony soldier beneath it. Szeth could hear the bones in the warrior’s arm and shoulder shatter under the impossible weight. The soldier stepped back, teetering, and then fell to the ground, unconscious.

<p class="MsoNormal">The king watch as Szeth stepped forward, planted a foot on the ebony soldier’s chest, and drove his sword through the guard’s visor.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth looked up as more guards approached. The nobles, including the dukes, hadn’t been able to escape yet. Szeth had sealed the doors well. There were probably a hundred or so people in the room, most of them unarmed.

<p class="MsoNormal">The king leveled his greatsword towards Szeth   in a defensive stance just as the Skaal carelessly lowered his own. They locked eyes, and the King of Bergama flinched at maddening look in Szeth’s.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth strode forwards, raising his claymore to dispense death. “I am Bloodless.” He murmured.

<p class="MsoNormal">Szeth wondered briefly what Bergaman warriors were doing so far out here.

<p class="MsoNormal">It was inconsequential. Lambert had given him a task, and he was honor bound to fulfil it. That was all that mattered.

<p class="MsoNormal">He walked for a bit, until his magicka had recharged and he was out of sight, and then took to the air once more.