Fantasy-Medieval RPG

[HellsSniper]

Legatus Pizkre nodded.

Pizkre: Deal. Let us go.

[Mysterie]

Natalya took his hand and led him upstairs to the room she had prepared, grinning. Everything was going the way she had planned.

[HellsSniper]

One of the Legatus' guards stood up.

Guard: Legatus! Are you sure that is a good idea? She is not a regular.

The Legatus looked at his guard, But she is beautiful!

[Mysterie]

Natalya smiled a sultry smile at the guard. "Don't worry, I won't bite. Unless he wants me to, that is."

[HellsSniper]

Guard 2: Milord, I agree, go with a regular.

Pizkre: All you care about is my safety! She's a wench...what will she do!?

Pizkre looked at Natalya.

[Theo Gren]

GENERAL

Name: Keiran Tenebrae
Nickname: N/A
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Occupation/Class: Mage
Alignment: Evil

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Weight: 175 lbs
Height: 5'7"
Skin tone: Pale
Build: A little thinner than average from malnutrition.
Hair color and style: Black hair turning grey-white at the tips. He hasn't been able to cut it , and thus it reaches down past his shoulders. He keeps it held back in a loose braid.
Eye color: Blue-grey
Clothing: Ragged grey shirt and pants covered by a hooded black robe trimmed in silver.
Piercings/Tatoos/markings (if any): There's runes telling of Baltha's rising, reign and fall tattooed up his arm, across his back and down the other arm, and ornate art all along his back.

PERSONALITY

General Personality: Keiran doesn't relate to people or consider how they feel, always feeling most at peace alone or with the dead. He doesn't fear death, and almost envies the stillness.
Likes: Quiet, solitude, the rush of power from connecting with magic.
Dislikes: People talking to him for too long, being interrupted, failure.
Bad experiences: The death of Gwendolyn. The second death of Gwendolyn.
Best memory: The rush of magic, the feeling of being whole again, when he swore himself to Baltha.
Skills: He's an expert and necromancy and combat magic, sometimes able to channel the force of a god against his enemies.
Things they find difficult: Ever since he swore himself to Baltha, he's been disconnected from humanity. He also cannot play scrabble to save his life.
Biggest Desire: Finding a way to bring Gwen back, really back, not just as a corpse.
Worst Fear: Finally understanding someone, just to have them die.

HISTORY/BACKSTORY: Keiran had the perfect life, until it was all stolen away from him. His lover was killed, his home burned, his family captured during a raid. He cursed the gods and took Baltha as his patron, begging her give him the power to bring Gwendolyn back. A rush of magic took over him, and he brought back her corpse as a mindless abomination. Soon enough he was discovered and thrown into the dungeons of Mayhearth, locked there seven years, until the guards were slaughtered and the city fell. He was free.

[Mysterie]

Natalya grinned cheekily. "I just want to get to know him a bit." She winked at the guards. "If you get my meaning."

[HellsSniper]

Pizkre: Look at this one!

One of the guards began to draw his sword.

Guard: My lord, we need to regroup at Kehill.

[Theo Gren]

Keiran watched out the window as Mayhearth fell. Fiends sweeped out from their warships and clashed with the army that had formed to hold them back. For a few moments, it seemed the guard was winning, but the left flank broke and the invaders had swarmed. Now, the city was burning.
Heaving out a sigh, he sunk down and sat on the floor, chanting under his breath. libera, liberum, libertatem in mortem. Audire, exaudi servus. Da libertatem ad servum tuum.
One of the guards saw him, but it was too late. The tattoos on his arms started to grow darker and clearer. Black smoke leached out of the cracks in the stone floor and gathered into two orbs in his hand that seemed to suck in the light. Keiran made a casual flicking gesture and one flew at the guard, sinking into his chest. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. His veins turned black and the color leached from his eyes, leaving blank white pits. The guard stiffly unlocked the door and Keiran stepped out, a black cloak materializing around him. He was free.

[Mysterie]

Natalya rolled her eyes at the guard. "I don't get it. He's your boss, but you're trying to tell him what to do?"

[HellsSniper]

Guard: And you are over stepping your boundaries wench.

The Legatus watched as the argument began to heat up. One of his guards had his sword half-drawn and the other had his hand on the hilt.

Legatus Pizkre: One wench will not be the death of me...

The guards sighed.

Guard: We do not have much time Legatus, we will wait down here.

[Mysterie]

Natalya smiled at the guard, tugging Pizkre's arm to lead him upstairs. "You won't be disappointed." She led him into an empty room.

[HellsSniper]

Legatus Pizkre follows Natalya up to the room.

He grins and starts undoing his uniform, revealing his necklace.

Legatus Pizkre: Let's do this.

[Mysterie]

Natalya smiled, moving behind him to help him slip his shirt off. Smirking behind his back, she slipped her dagger from her leg sheath and quickly slit his throat. "Sorry, but your luck with women has just run out. Pervert." Working quickly, she severed his head and tied it up in his shirt, then snatched the bloody necklace from his body and pocketed it. "Sweet dreams, Pizkre." She climbed out of the window and ran to the stables.

[HellsSniper]

Pizkre's body stayed in the room, blood flowing from his severed head.

One of the guards was sitting below the room and drinking ale. When he went to take a sip, blood spilled from the ceiling. The guard looked up and saw the blood seeping through the wooden floor.

Gaurd: Legatus!

The guard jumped upwards and ran into the room, he saw his Legatus' body. Two more guards followed and stared in awe.

Gaurd: We must report this assassination to Lord Tyrus, but we must continue onward to Kehill! Send a scout and get the men moving.

The guard paused.

Gaurd: And burn this inn.

The guards nodded and walked off, as the first guard picked up his Legates' body and brought it outside.

The guards began a burial as the inn behind them burned in the night. The innkeeper hanging from a tree and the woman being raped. None assassinate a Legate without punishment, even if it is not them being punished.