Bright-Scales-Glimmer strode along the path, his soft soled boots allowing him to move as a ghost. In his right hand, he held a long, oak wood staff, with a strange hook made out of steel, topping it off. A long, black overcoat obscured most of his features, but couldn't hide the tail, that gave him away as an Argonian.
Though, it was unlikely anyone would see him on a night such as this, thanks to the pouring rain. Bright wasn't particularly bothered, his leather pants, gloves, and tunic protecting him from the worst of the cold, while the hood kept the deluge out of his eyes. Apparently, Bright hadn't been stealthy enough in his journey, as his keen sense of smell soon picked out the unwashed stench of those that have been either hiding, or following, for a long time. Planting his staff on the cobble stones of the road, he waited. 'If I'm right, I won't have to wait long...'
Moments later, three hooded and masked men stepped onto the road, all of them bearing curved, dangerous looking ebony blades. "You should have stayed in Riften, lizard!" Roared one of the men, tearing the mask off of his face to reveal a scarred visage. The Nord was one of the assassins Bright had dealt with before. And let live, which had obviously been a mistake.
"If you wish to die, so be it. I will not stop you" the three Dark Brotherhood assassins leapt forward was one, two going out to flank the Argonian, a third coming straight on. Immediately, Bright shifted his stance, and lifted his staff above his head, spinning it rapidly. The brotherhood assassins slowed, unsure of how to proceed. Bright had no such doubts about his martial prowess. He lunged forwards, hooking the end of his blade under one mans' arm, and yanking, hard. Fabric ripped, and blood spattered the ground.
The man cried out, his dagger clattering to the ground, and his arm falling limp. Enraged either by their comrades disarmament, or the Argonians prowess, both men closed in on Bright. He turned, curving his tail to minimize his target profile, and slammed a hand into one mans' face, calling upon his ability. A purple-white aura surrounded the Argonian assassins fore-arm, and with a crackling boom, blasted apart the mans' face with a small lightning bolt.
Bright grimaced, feeling his energy wane. He wouldn't be doing that again for a while. The third man proved to be little more than a coward. Seeing his friend unarmed, and his other companion with a scorched and broken face, he turned and fled. Bright turned to the last remaining man, who'd drawn a second knife in his free hand, and was advancing, once more. A spin of a staff later, the scarred Nord assassins head was on the ground, and the rest of his body wasn't far behind. Cleaning the hook-blade on the corpse, Bright continued his journey towards Falkreath.
It didn't take him long to reach the fortified town. The rain hid his approach until he was nearly on top of the two guards standing to either side of the gate. "Halt! What's your business in Falkreath?" It probably would have been faster and simpler to kill the two men, but no one was paying, and they hadn't drawn weapons, although both looked very much on edge. Holding his scaled hands out to his sides, one clutching his hook-staff. Thee guards stared at the exotic weapon, not looking entirely reassured.
"My business is the bandits that are behind the disappearances. I intend no harm for the people of Falkreath" The guards looked at each other, then back to him. All this time, rain fell, drenching Brights' long coat, although his scales shed the water with ease, and his form-fitting leather armour was water proof. The guards obviously just wanted to go back inside their guardhouse, where the Argonian could see the light of torches, and feel the warmth seeping into the cold, rainy night air. "Okay, Argonian. Behave yourself inside, and you won't have any problems with us"
The assassin bowed slightly at the waist, and moved through the gates. He guessed that he'd most likely find out more about the bounty on the bandits inside the local tavern, a place called 'dead mans' drink'. 'An appropriate name, considering the demeanour of the guards...' Bright thought, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder as the gates slammed shut behind him. 'Interesting security, for mere bandits...' he mused, walking into the tavern and noticing a female Altmer that was attractive, for a Mer, with red hair, and an impressive body.
Deciding to wait before speaking to her, he took a seat where he had both the majority of the room, and the door in his field of vision. Now, all he had to do was wait and see if others entered as well. He suspected more would indeed arrive. Few could resist the lure of ten thousand septims.
