Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-27783182-20140316151420/@comment-3293219-20140321114211

''Screw it... ''

Set wasn't stupid, he knew that the Daedra worshippers had no reason to capture him or even let him live. Two of them gathered around him, brandishing a conjured mace and a sword, both of them were of Daedric origin but they were pretty weak, because they were novice conjurers.

''I've fought worse... ''

One of them, a Dunmer, went for him, striking down with their mace. He was around the same age as Set but he didn't look as experienced in combat. The Bosmer jumped back as he felt the breeze of the mace as it swung in front of his chest. He lunged forward and dragged the Dunmer to the floor, throwing two heavy punches to his face as a smirk grew across his lips.

''I missed this... ''

His comrade, an Imperial decided to try his luck but the heavy chink of his conjured armour gave him away, causing Set to turn around and let the Dunmer drop to the floor.

He drew his knife and circled the Imperial, who looked like he was the younger of the two; however, he knew that looks can be deceiving. The Imperial lunged forward this time, hacking and slashing, several times as Set jumped back, the space between the blade and his chest narrowed as the Imperial's speed increased as Set's decreased.

He stopped in front of a tree, grabbing onto the bark to support himself. He didn't see it coming and his head was rocked back, hitting the bark and causing it to throb. The Bosmer winced and cursed under his breath as the Imperial lunged forward again, ready to run him through with his Daedric sword.

Set looked up and saw him striking forward and quickly leapt out of the way; the Imperial's sword penetrated the bark and dug into the tree, lodging itself in.

The Disfigured Bosmer looked up, noticing that the cultist had gotten stuck, trying to pull his conjured sword out of the tree before his opponent could strike, he hadn't noticed that Set had recovered so quickly, giving him the chance to draw his knife and run over to him.

The Imperial turned, just in time to see Set shiv him, below the ribs. The dagger pointed upwards, piercing his chest and cutting across a lung. The Cultist groaned in pain and fell to the floor as his sword dispersed, as it could no longer keep its physical form, now that it's creator had perished.

Set didn't have much time to celebrate as the Dunmer from earlier ran over to him, brandishing his mace and striking down at him. He spun around and instinctively blocked it with his dagger. He immediately regretted this as the mace struck his fingers and knocked the blade out of his hand.

''<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Shit! ''<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Set was knocked to the floor by the force of the swing and landed on a tree route that dug into his stomach, causing him to wince. He didn't bother to turn around as it was a waste of time, instead he scrambled to his feet and began to flee in to the forest, his leg missed the mace by inches as it struck the ground.

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">-

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Set stood behind a tree trunk, hearing the rustling of leaves under his pursuer's feet. The fight had become a game of cat and mouse, which was a game that The Bosmer loved, because it wasn't always obvious which was which...

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">He turned to face the direction the Dunmer would come from; he would emerge from his left, any second now. The Bosmer raised a large rock, that he had found in the woods, with the right force and the element of surprise, Set's swing with the rock would be far more effective than the Dunmer's mace.

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">He noticed that the rustling had gotten louder but he kept still and held his breath, the Bosmer was no stranger to stealth attacks, though he wasn't particularly good at them, he was able to get his enemies from the shadows, occasionally.

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">The Dunmer stepped out from behind him, walking past his left as he glanced around, facing completely the wrong direction, causing Set to smirk. The Bosmer raised the rock above his head and struck it down on the Dunmer, hitting his head with a neck breaking force.

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">The Dunmer survived, surprisingly and fell to the floor, rolling over onto his back as he groaned and reality slowly came back to him. It was then that he saw Set, towering over him with the blood stained rock in hand.

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">"Any last words?" The Disfigured Bosmer asked, smiling as he tightened his grip on the rock.

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">"M-My lord... Will take this realm... Destroy all that you cherish... Make all of your fears... Realit-" his last rhetoric was interrupted as Set got bored of his bullshit super villain speech and struck down, brutally beating his head in, long after he was dead.

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">The Bosmer gave it seven or eight good whacks before completely destroying the cultist's head and pulling away to avoid causing himself injury. He gasped and panted as he threw the dripping red rock to the floor; it landed with a thump and rolled away from him, leaving a small blood trail in the leaves.

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">"Sorry..." He panted, glancing up at his victim.

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">"Didn't catch that..."

<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: "Helvetica","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-ansi-language: EN;">He walked away and went to find his 'friends.'