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Snippet #2679625

located in Helton, a part of The Age of Gifted, one of the many universes on RPG.

Helton

A nice safe place to rest... If you don't mind death, decay, and skeletons.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Seth Ghysels Character Portrait: Gale Eden Character Portrait: Roderic Montana
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Beads of sweat had started to fall an hour ago- maybe more, maybe less, Seth wasn’t paying attention exactly. They slid down his face, warming the already flushed skin before coming to pool at his collar. He had been sent moving about for most of that time, as well, only stopping to listen to Montana’s instruction when it came. His muscles were sore, and there was a bit of that familiar queasiness that came with frequent teleportation, but Seth considered that a good thing. It meant progress. Improvement.

Now, rocking back and forth on his heels, he listened once more to his teacher, green eyes obedient and intrigued. Seth was almost puppylike in his fascination- although that could be said about the boy no matter the situation. Even now, with the indentations of muscle visible beneath his shirt and on bare arms, and with the deadly gleam of hatchets in hand, he seemed more like a schoolboy than anything.

The effect was distorted, somewhat, by the light frown that touched his lips at Montana’s advice. It wasn’t one of disapproval, or of any sort of upset- it was thoughtful. Quiet. His eyes didn’t leave the other through this change, and as direction was given, Seth gave a brief nod to show his understanding. He had never attempted to use his teleportation in such a way- why bother, when you were so used to using it in the typical manner?- but it would be interesting. Fun. Helpful. Absently, he ran his arm across his mouth, hands tightening around the handles of his axes with the comfort of a hitter with a bat.

Within moments of Montana’s signal, Seth was gone- off to the land only others of his Gift seemed to know. He drew himself out just as fast, appearing at the side of the first target. With a swipe of his arm, the linen that made up the bag split, vomiting sand across the tiled floor. He didn’t stay to watch his efforts, instead moving to the next to repeat the process. And the next. And those after.

It was at the seventh that he slipped up. Rather than burying deep into the “torso” of the target, it instead nicked its side, leaving a shallow cut instead of anything particularly noteworthy. Granted, on a living person, there would be a chance of it eventually becoming lethal.

But “eventually” was not what he had been aiming for. Jaw clenching, Seth spun on his heel, surveying the damage for a slow moment. Not good. While he could still simply redo his attack and continue down the line, there was little margin for error now. And with the time wasted now with indecision…

He made his choice swiftly, and with little hesitation after that. Willing himself out of existence, he teleported to the dummy before Montana, planted his hand firmly upon it, and brought it several feet away again before disappearing once more.

When he reappeared, it was behind his tutor, arm lifted to swing at Montana’s back.