Spetznaz Assault Teams wrote:Benyamin Do'urden
The Dark Brotherhood
Leyawiin, Cyrodiil
Benyamin rolled his eyes. "For the love of... yes. Okay? Happy? For the love of the thrice damned gods is there no end to the god forsaken mer in this place! Stupid question I know, in a Thalmor fortress, in a Thalmor City, but still. A man has his limits! I've already slaughtered..." He paused, his eyes rolled upward, and he appeared deep in thought.
"Lets see, I did for four, add the guard, plus those two sentries... Yup. Seven of you already. My short friend did for two, and my lady friend in the back did four. Thirteen. Want to go for fourteen? Really we'd just as soon walk out of here and out of your hair, but hey. Your call." As he spoke Benyamin engaging in mental dialogue with Petnea, but gave no outward sign.
What is she?
Mage, powerful
Chances of our getting past?
...
Well?
I was checking the status of her mind.
And?
She doesn't have support coming.
Dralin let no emotion pass her face, but a great disapoinment filled her. Is this what had become of the Brotherhood?
She shrugged it off, rolling her wrists. The man continued to babble, but she sensed that the psionist was speaking with him through his mind. No magic was involved in this deduction, just common sense. She picked her blades out of the corpse of her capture, the one she had been labeling an idiot for years. She felt... Sorrow.
But she shrugged this off too.
And then she turned to see Eneyla. She looked between her family, the Brotherhood, and her master, a Thalmor.
And she no longer knew what to do.
She dropped the blades, and leaned against the wall, mind racing.