Thallian had snaked his arm under the bandits chin, his other hand cranking the back of his head until the audible snap of the neck was heard. As the man fell to the ground, he instinctively let go, analyzing his work. Bodies littered the forest floor, multiple wounds identifiable on their bodies. Some bludgeoned to death with his shield, bones cracked and blood oozing from their mouths and multiple openings. Mutilated bodies lay in a pile, the only ones who managed to get to their weapons in time. Scoffing, he turned away, eyeing the wounds that they had applied. His torso would need bandaging and some healing, his arms bruised and cut.
Grinning, he relieved the moments in his head. He had approached the camp with weapons revealed, his intentions quite clear. Yet they had just thought another wanna-be hero had stumbled upon them, and they would create a lesson from him.
It excited him.
The first to approach was immediately impaled and forcibly shoved from his blade with his shield, leaving the man to bleed out on the floor as he kept marching forward, stride not breaking. The group stared back in shock, for they hadn’t expected that. Two rushed his person, blades at the ready as they prepared to make short work of the Lord. Swordplay ensued, but Thallian was much more than a match for two bandits, cutting them both down with ease. Stopping just before the rest, he slowly raised his bloodied sword, tapping his shield tauntingly, his unblinking eyes hidden behind his helmet.
The rest was a blur of motion and cries of anguish, as he systematically cut the bandits down without mercy, ramming the edge of his shield into skulls repeatedly. His sword sang as it feasted on the flesh and blood of those whom stood ahead of him. His helmet had a small dent from smashing his own head into them, smashing their face into a bloodied pulp before he would let them fall. During this, he hadn’t noticed a bandit had returned from hunting, and watching his friends be murdered, had jumped atop Thallian and forced the helmet from his person. Reaching back, he left himself open to attack from the front. A man slowly got to his feet, and drawing his blade, impaled Thallian in his torso. With a scream of rage and pain, his shield and sword immediately lit ablaze with Void energies. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he stepped back and lowered his shoulder quickly, throwing the man from his back onto the dirt below. Raising his boot, he stomped in the mans chest. Loud, sickening cracks would be easily audible, a testament to the mans rage. Looking to the man ahead, who was brandishing his bloodied blade fearlessly, Thallian tilted his head. He was told they would be scared of him, and up until this point, they had. Something about this man struck a nerve. Marching forward, he kept his arms at his sides. The man had struck out quickly, his sword meeting Thallian’s shield with a series of sparks as his hand snapped out, grabbing the man by the throat. Raising his shield again, he slammed it onto the mans wrist, breaking it. As the sword clattered to the ground, Thallian pulled the man into their makeshift hut.
It had been a sickeningly joyful procedure, tearing down the determined mentality he had built. Bones were snapped, burns were inflicted. Painful truths revealed, with all of their beautiful imagery. The man was nothing but a stuttering, bloodied, broken shell by the time Thallian walked out of the hut. He wouldn’t give him the pleasure of a quick death, but the punishment of a slow, agonizing conclusion to his life, finishing the remainder of any he may have forgotten.
Suddenly, he remembered what he had been doing. He pressed a hand against the wound he had received, shaking his head. There was no way around telling the truth, if anyone were to see. But he would try, of course. They gave him enough excuses prior to this, and had sworn to protect him. He was doing Their work, wasn’t he? They wanted to rid the world of filth, and that’s what he had just done. He had Their blessing, and he would be their sword. Nodding to himself, he started stuffing a bandage into the break in his armor, just to lessen the bleeding for now. “You’ll be making them proud, for once. You’ve become more than a cowardly child.” Nodding slowly, Thallian truly believed those words. He had lost all handle on what were his thoughts versus what was Theirs... But he didn’t care, “What’s next. Who, is next.” He spoke aloud, he always spoke aloud. He dared not interrupt their speech, for They were just as merciless as he, “An Archer, Young Songheart. You must prepare, for they are prepared for you. You are weak, flimsy. You would fall before a volley like wheat falls to the scythe. Useless.”
It was that word.
“Yes, yes. I shall find them, and they shall meet my blade.” He never knew who “they” were, until he saw them.
He marched off, and at that moment, he realized a startling fact.
Not once, had he been fearful of them. Of the situation. He was, truly, brave for once in his life.
