The Hundred: Zeist

There is always the faintest whisper, the final thin gleam of reflected light, which betrays the nearly perfect ambush. With Zeist, there is nothing. For Zeist is treachery made into a tool of death. It often manifests as a thin blade, perhaps a modern foil, or a broadsword of mysterious aspect, or a sabre built for a halfling. Sometimes, it is another weapon from another age; it can be arquebus or bolas, blowpipe or crossbow. In all aspects, it is silent and difficult to see; I have seen it as an icepick before.

In the great myth-cycles, the hero is betrayed by the weapon more powerful or more corrupt than he; sometimes, the hero is corrupted by the power given to him by it. There is none of that here. Zeist works only for those with only the slimmest chance of salvation, or for those who by its use will stand to lose such chances. It is a tool that corrupts the corrupt, and helps the evil along their road to a deserved doom.

Zeist is sentient; it has a peculiar empathy which arouses the worst and most craven impulses of the impromptu murderer. Whether a replacement killer or a substitute assassin, the weapon works to ease the path towards the breaking of contracts and the bending of words. The success of the slayer depends on the degree of deceit he has used, urged gently upon him by the quiet empathy of the instrument in his hands. The wielder will talk to Zeist more and more; while it will never be 'my Precious' to him, it will be 'my Friend' or 'my Companion-in-Adversity'.

The fate of the one who handles it is terrible indeed; slowly, he will come to fear betrayal. He will come to sense treachery in every act and a traitor in every situation. And when Treachery has come to the end of its working relationship with the man, it will take his life when he least expects it – perhaps on the day that he essays to shave with a naked sword.