A bit of a shorter one again, but there's always the chance I'll get in another update tonight. I'm feeling creative...


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Simion paced around his room throughout the night, contemplating his course of action. He still remembered the friendship he had with Lavos. There were plenty of good memories of joking around, and laughing. With those good ones come bad memories though, terrible ones even. One such memory drove him to retirement.

He didn’t recall much of the night that Lavos and him had defeated the Dark Brotherhood threat in Vivec. He remembered infiltrating the under works and disposing of the sentries along his path to their main encampment. He remembered thinking of an appropriate tactic to take out the assassins at the encampment. During his thought process, Lavos had enacted on his plan. With the diverted attention of the assassins, he had snuck up behind them. Once the blade hit the flesh of his first victims everything dissolved in a haze which soon followed darkness. Next thing he knew was waking up back in the Guildhall and being told he nearly killed Lavos. He had taken the news terribly; guilt and fear encompassed his thoughts for a long time. Long enough that he had made the decision to retire; he simply couldn’t trust his abilities anymore.

With his return to Kvatch though, his vengeance rekindled itself. He had hoped that the time off from killing had quelled this… bloodlust, but it hadn’t. With each time with each time he spilt blood, the voice became stronger, more controlling. Yet, he needed to do this, and if Lavos got in the way Simion would have to get him out of the way.

Consciously, he didn’t know if he could. The guilt from just injuring him still lingered in the recesses of his mind. The interference that Lavos could make must be avoided though. An idea crossed his mind.

Maybe he could bargain with him.

He could tell Lavos his situation, in confidence as friends, and hoped that he would allow him to do what he had to do. The Guild trusted Lavos so if he claimed that Simion had no involvement with the murders, he would have free reign to do what he must. If he declined, then he would send Lavos to his ancestors.

“No! He must die now! He knows what you’ve done… I can feel it…” the voice hissed within Simion’s head.

“I don’t care! Even if it’s just speculation right now, I’m going to tell him anyways. The point is to try to make him understand,” Simion said aloud to the air.

Great… it’s starting to get to me…

“He is not loyal to you. He is loyal to the Guild! He will kill you before you have the chance to finish. Strike him down now while he is unaware of our suspicion!”

“He’s my friend, he will listen. He will understand!” Simion said defiantly. He had to overcome this. He had to show he still had control.

“Enough years has past for the friendship to die. I saw your “friendship” die in the sewers of Vivec along with those assassins. All by my hand as well…” the malicious intent echoed within Simion’s mind. Pain erupted with each syllable causing Simion to drop to his knees, clutching his head.

“Stop!” Simion cried in pain, uncontrollable tears streaming down his cheeks. The pain was excruciating. What felt like hours of pain only lasted moments and the pain ceased its existence. He realized that if the voice could do that, control was limited. “Do not fear, I will be well prepared if he thinks he can kill me. You just have to trust me.”

The next time he met with Lavos, he would either be an ally or dead.

His thoughts were answered by the dark laughter of the voice.

AAaah. Treachery thy name is Insanity. Wonder if Sheogorath has anything to do with this? Or has a the Idea of being a legal Assassin within the Morag Tong created a schism within this poor outlanders mind? Will Batman defuse the bomb before the Joker gets away?....oh wait, wrong channel....

Who will win, the master or the apprentice? Oh, I can't bear to think about the fight. Whatever the outcome is, I think that the survivor (if any.) will regret what has happened.

oh aye....exactly what he said.....*shrugs*

Intense internal conflicts here make this update an interesting read, plenty of emotion throughout it but it doesn't seem to move the plot forward much. Please do continue when you can, I'd like to know what happens next.

Whew! Well I hope this one furthers the plot, just because this one is probably the largest update I've done yet. Hopefully the work I put into it turns out well. I particulary proud of it Enjoy!


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Lavos descended the stairs of the tavern, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His head was throbbing with a headache due to lack of sleep and drinking. Even under the influence of inebriation he couldn’t rest soundly. His thoughts were plagued with his near death experiences with the Guild, particularly the instance with Simion. Throughout the night all that Lavos could see was the maddening gaze of Simion and hear his haunting words. “All enemies must bleed!”

Shuddering, Lavos quietly ate a small breakfast and mulled over what he should do today. His binge had caused him to forget about checking up on Simion. Lavos didn’t know if Simion had turned himself in for questioning. Given his suspicions, Lavos figured he didn’t. He knew Simion was the stubborn type, but it was more than that this time. It was guilt keeping him from turning himself in.

Lavos looked up from his meal and nearly choked. Standing in front of him was Simion. Lavos broke into a coughing fit to clear the food caught in his windpipe. After recovering he noticed Simion nodding to a chair, asking if he could take a seat. Lavos nodded a confirmation and Simion casually pulled out the chair and sat down, facing him directly.

Lavos cleared his throat. “Did you turn yourself in?” he asked quietly, using his peripherals to see if anyone was paying any specific notice of the two assassins talking.

“No, I decided not to. They can find me if they wish to speak with me,” Simion said, keeping his tone low. Lavos couldn’t read any emotion across his face.

“How did you find me?” Lavos asked. Still in disbelief that he was talking to Simion at the tavern. Where he thought he was safe. He would’ve known if Simion followed him back to the tavern. Lavos was reasonably sure that he wasn’t that good to go unnoticed. Now his base of operations was compromised.

A small smile crept along the edge of Simion’s lips. “I know you Lavos. You’re not the type to stay at a dead end cesspool of an inn. You like things clean, yet fun, since you’re a talker. That tells me you would want to stay at a quality establishment, but not the Ritz. Now there’s a few inns like the one I described, but I knew you were here to see me. Logically that means you’ll pick one close to my home. This happens to be that inn.”

“I see that you’ve kept your mind as sharp as your skills it seems,” Lavos said, while scolding himself mentally for picking a place so obvious. After his first meeting with Simion, he should’ve realized what he was up against and moved to somewhere further away. With Simion now here, Lavos decided he may as well know why.

“Why are you here, Simion?”

“I need to speak with you, but not here. I have some explaining to do. Meet me at my house at midday. Do this for our friendship,” Simion said, a pain expression crossing his face with his last words. He then abruptly rose and exited the inn.

Lavos simply stared at the door for a few moments, the food on his plate no longer held any interest. He slid the plate aside and rose from his chair. He then went up to his room. Silently, he gathered up his belongings, consciously concealing a dagger on his back. Simion may have seem sincere in his words before he left, but there was always a chance that it could be a crafty ruse. Lavos couldn’t risk any possible danger to himself. He wanted to continue his existence and start to enjoy life.

Since arriving in Kvatch, Lavos had begun to sense weariness within himself. The continual test on his nerves since arriving were taking a toll on him. It was very difficult to predict what Simion would do. His sudden appearance this morning proved that. The simple fact that Simion could just be around the corner, ready to sheath a knife into his back, set his nerves on edge. After this issue was settled Lavos figured he would give retirement a serious thought. The stress was finally starting to get to him.

Sighing, Lavos shouldered his pack and left the room. He didn’t know what he was going to do until midday, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stay at the inn.



Lavos stood outside the door of Simion’s home. He looked up to the sky, a hand across his brow to shade his eyes. The sun hovered directly overhead at it’s zenith. Lavos judge it was roughly close to midday. It was time to see Simion.

During his wait, Lavos had spent most of the time contemplating what exactly Simion was going to tell him. He surmised it wasn’t going to be good. No one says “I have some explaining to do” and tells you something nice. It’s always something that is either going to shock you, repulse you, scare you, or sadden you. In most cases it was a bitter mixture of some of those elements.

It definitely told Lavos that Simion was involved with the murders in some way or another. The best case scenario that Lavos could come up with was that Simion was a scout for the murderer, and was merely assisting him that way and not killing. That look in Simion’s eyes told of a different story unfortunately. They told Lavos that indeed it was Simion committing these acts of murder.

Worse, they told Lavos he enjoyed it.

Lavos made up his mind that he was not going to wait any longer. He stepped up to the door and knocked softly on it. After a few moments the door creaked open and the steel blue eyes of Simion peered at him. Simion stepped back from the door and opened it wide to allow Lavos in.

“Greetings, friend. Come right in and take a seat,” Simion said cordially, gesturing towards a pair of chairs around a small table.

“Greetings,” Lavos returned the greeting and stepped over a lantern on the floor, blackened with overuse that it would take a solid cleaning for any light to pierce through. Lavos thought it was a peculiar place to leave a lantern, but then again, Simion wasn’t a normal person. Not anymore.

Lavos took a seat on the closest chair while Simion walked around the table to take the chair on the opposite side. Simion rested his hands on the table, fingers folded together, and looked across at Lavos. Lavos suddenly began to feel uncomfortable and shifted in his chair in an attempt to find comfort. It almost seemed as if Simion was interrogating him with just a look. Perhaps he was. Reactions from Simion’s stare could give him the answers that Simion wanted.

The silence was starting to grate on Lavos. “Well, what do you have to explain?” he nearly blurted out.

Simion took a deep, heaving sigh and sat back in his chair, breaking the eye contact. He stared up at the ceiling, as if asking the Divines for the proper words to use, and slowly began to explain.

“You should know better than anyone that I wasn’t one to talk about my past before the Guild, right? I figure you probably assumed that it was a bad past. Well you’re right. Just before I discovered the Guild, I was wandering the cantons of Vivec begging for food. I would sleep in the under works because I knew that the Ordinators didn’t patrol those areas…” Simion stared off once more, a distant look in his eyes.

“Do you know what raw sewer rat tastes like? I’ll tell you right now, it’s not pleasant. But a starving youngster has to do what he must to survive, correct? In fact, it was the hunt for food that brought me to the Arena Storage Room. I had hit the jackpot I thought; actual food! There was even a discarded sleeping pallet in one of the side rooms. It was as if I had finally found a home. That’s when I heard a noise.”

“I thought it must’ve been a bandit of some sort, coming to drop off some loot. The place was filled with an array of weapons and currency, common to a bandit hideout now that it dawned on me. I hid behind a crate, and found out something surprising. I thought the person approaching would be entering through the entrance that I came in. Instead, they appeared coming out one of the side doors in the storage room. Once I spared a glance at this person I realized it couldn’t be a bandit. He was dressed to formally in a very expensive looking robe. I was obviously intrigued by this stranger so I decided to follow him as he exited the storage. After a few minutes of tailing him, I just couldn’t take the urge anymore and decided to tug on his robe to get his attention. Boy did he jump at that! I did regret it immediately when I found a dagger suddenly pressed tightly against my neck. Turns out I had been tailing Eno Hlaalu himself! He was stunned by my account of following him, and actually sneaking up on him. He didn’t believe me until I described the room he appeared from. From that moment, I officially became a member of the Morag Tong.” A wry smile had begun to form across his face at his relation of his past. It quickly vanished. “But I digress, that’s not what I really wanted to explain.”

Lavos simply sat there, transfixed by Simion’s reminisce of his past. He had always wanted to hear about Simion’s path. To know if his assumptions were right. To know that he had such natural talent left him dumbfounded. At any given moment, Simon could’ve ended his life with ease. Lavos wouldn’t have known what hit him.

With the opportunity to find out more, Lavos pressed him on. “Then continue, friend. Tell me everything.”

Simion took a moment to recollect his thoughts and continued. “You know that Kvatch was the town I was raised in. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I had to leave to escape the pain and memories that lingered in my home. This home. For this home has been stained with far too much blood… most of which is my father’s…” Simion trailed off, his words coming out slightly louder than a whisper.

“My family was murdered right before my eyes, for reasons unknown to me at the time. It took me a long time to figure out why. When I did, it was still unjust. The one responsible left this scar above my eye. Almost every time I see it, or brush my hand against it, brings back that horrifying night. How I stood mute, clutching my bleeding head, as I witnessed the terrible things they did to my father before they granted him his pleas of death. The fact I could do nothing has constantly bothered me. My time with the Guild was beneficial; it distracted my mind from my past. I could completely forget about it and start anew. Since retirement though, I felt a calling. It called me back here. Once I came back I realized why.”

“My parents’ killer still lives. I’ve seen him. The calling was for vengeance. My skills with the Guild has given me the tools that I need to achieve it. I have yet to do it though. I needed to make sure that I was still able to do what I must…” Simion trailed off once most, and looked intently at Lavos, attempting to read his reaction.

Lavos felt cold all over. He caught the meaning behind Simion’s last words. He couldn’t avoid asking the obvious question. “So you’ve been killing Town Guards to make sure you are prepared to murder your parents’ killer?”

A solemn look took over Simion’s face. “Yes. The murders done have been by my hand.”

Lavos couldn’t believe the absurdity of what Simion was doing. “Simion, you’re an assassin! If you sought vengeance with one man, why must innocents suffer? The one you’re after sounds like some street thug, it would’ve been simple to sneak into his home and cut his throat. One murder wouldn’t have caught our attention.”

Simion’s eyes darkened. “Lavos, you should know fully well that in some missions innocent lives are taken. They get in the way, and the only way to get them out of it is by the edge of a knife. In this case, the guards are the innocents,” Simion quietly explained, restraining his obvious anger at Lavos’ remarks.

Lavos wasn’t convinced and pressed on his attack. “The guards weren’t in the way. You’re playing some sort of sick game with this person. You’re intending to instil fear into him by showing how hopeless it is to get away from you.”

Simion couldn’t suppress his feelings any longer as he lurched up from his seat. “So what? The honoured user deserves what I’ve been doing! I want him to be looking around every dark corner, fearful that I’ll be lurking there, ready to do him in! It is the least I can do for my family,” Simion barked into Lavos’ face, spittle collecting on his lower lip.

Lavos averted his face, and casually wiped a glove across his face. “Why the Town Guard then? They’re good men, here to protect Kvatch. I would understand you killing street thugs. Killing the guards just doesn’t make sense,” Lavos said calmly, returning his vision on the heavily breathing Simion.

Simion tensed visibly and returned to his seat stiffly. “You have no idea who I’m after that’s why. The Town Guard protects the man I’m after. He’s connected with them. By hurting them, I’m hurting him. I’m not after some street thug. If you want some assurance, I can offer you the promise that I will not be going after the Town Guard anymore. Unless they get in my way. I intend to finally end this. I need you to accept that,” he said, his voice taking on a pleading tone, “As a friend, you would let me do this.”

Lavos studied Simion closely, putting his skills to use. He needed to discern whether Simion was being truthful. He had to put his friendship aside in this matter. Innocent lives had been taken and now it was up to Lavos to decide if more lives were to be taken.

Looking at Simion, Lavos saw his old partner from the Guild, only worn down. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes seemed hollowed under darkness. Yet, he did see his friend there, asking him for forgiveness and approval. That alone made Lavos want to say yes but somehow the word seemed caught in his throat. Something seemed to nag at him for further assessment.

The time it was taking Lavos to deliberate with himself seemed to be taking a toll on Simion, as something flashed across his eyes that made Lavos remember. Simion was mad. Right now, he had control, but that wouldn’t last forever. It was that madness that expressed itself through Simion’s eyes that told him despite what Simion said, he wouldn’t keep his word. The madness wouldn’t allow it. It wanted mayhem, relished in it. Lavos’ mind was made up. Simion had to die.

Lavos cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Simion. The answer is no. There’s something wrong with you, and as a friend, I have to help you the only way I know I can,” Lavos said sadly, cautiously edging his hand to his concealed dagger.

A look of outright pain etched itself onto Simion. “No? How can you say no? You’re my friend… You’re supposed to understand…” Anger suddenly burst forth from Simion and Lavos knew that look in his eyes. “The Voice was right! You’re not my friend! I should have dealt with you from the moment we met again. Just like the Voice told me to do!” Simion hollered, standing up.

Lavos pushed aside his chair as he rose and drew his dagger. “Calm down, Simion. Just calm down…” Lavos said as gently as possible.

“No! And how DARE you draw a weapon on me!” Simion cried, stomping his foot.

Before Lavos knew what happened. Red hot pain laced across his entire body. It was so excruciating that he couldn’t even admit a cry to emote the pain he felt. He felt cemented to the spot where he stood, eyes spotting a broken lantern, charred black, resting shattered in front of him. He couldn’t comprehend how it had gotten there, or how it had shattered. His eyes found Simion, whose face was red with anger and frustration.

“You should have let me do what I must do, Lavos, like a good friend would’ve. I can’t let the Guild get involved with this. It grieves me that this must happen,” his face then took on a sick expression, “Though I am really enjoying the site of what’s flowing down your back.”

Lavos couldn’t even feel what he was talking about. It was becoming hard to concentrate on anything. At least the pain was going away, but a numbing coldness was taking it’s place. It was hard to keep his eyes open. He wanted to say something, yet the words wouldn’t come forth. He wanted to tell him it was too late. That the Guild was coming after him once they got here. He wanted the last laugh. The only thing he could do was smile at the madness before him as the darkness overtook him.



Simion watched Lavos’ eyes close for the last time. He raised his foot off the loose floorboard and the knife embedded in Lavos’ spine fell out, causing the body to collapse. Simion knew he should’ve felt sad about the death of his friend, yet the blood pooling behind him made him enjoy every moment of it. From the moment the lantern concealing the dagger sticking out of the floor went flying over Lavos’ head and the knife planted itself into Lavos, Simion felt an intoxicating euphoria come over him. Each moment of watching the life drain from Lavos was bliss to Simion.

The only thing that marred the whole experience was the sudden rueful grin that came across Lavos just before he closed his eyes.

**Standing Ovation**

Brilliant! Keep it coming!

Woo! Another update, this one comes straight from the job! I have a bit of spare time on my hands.... Ohwell, enjoy!


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Simion sat on a chair, hands buried in his face. His shoulder racked with silent sobbing, the ecstasy of the murder had long since diminished. He raised his face from his hands, revealing a red and tear stained face. Grief, sadness, and shame encompassed his being as he stared down at the body sprawled on the floor.

He had just killed his only friend he had. No longer would he have someone who understood him to talk to. Sure, he had plenty of disagreements with Lavos before, but they had always been able to settle them eventually. In this case, all arguments were settled permanently. Simion hated it. He couldn't believe that he did it. But wait... It wasn't him who did it. The Voice did it, not him. Since the incident, the throbbing in his head and the mutterings of the Voice had ceased. It was satisfied for now. For how long, Simion had no clue. It would come back, and Simion had no idea if he could resist its persistence.

He couldn't even resist it to save his friend.

A knock at his door caused Simion to jump, hand instinctively going for his dagger. He realised that the knock was too polite to be the Town Guard, so it must be a neighbour or some stranger. He couldn't let whoever it was see the body of Lavos. It would be hard to make up a suitable excuse to explain why there was a dead body in his house.

Wiping away the wetness from his cheeks, Simion tried to compose himself as another polite knock sounded against his door. He opened the door slightly to see who it was and saw the young Imperial who lived across the street. Her concerned expression made him uneasy. "Yes?"

"Sorry to disturb you Mr Mandrake but I thought I heard some odd noises. Is everything all right?" the Imperial asked.

Simion had hoped that the daily noise of Kvatch would mask the argument and the potential noise of a struggle if he ended up having to fight Lavos. It seemed it hadn't worked perfectly. "I broke a lantern and cut myself cleaning it up. Got a bit angry with myself. Sometimes yelling at your stupidity helps," Simion said, attempting a smile.

The Imperial smiled back warmly. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I cut my fingers while preparing vegetables and I just feel like screaming at myself," she said, admitting a chuckle.

Simion let out a soft chuckle as well. "I think I have the situation under control now. But thanks for your concern Miss...?"

"Bernise," she finished.

"Bernise," he repeated, "I'm sorry for not knowing your name, I've been here long enough that I should know. I guess I'm still getting used to being back," he continued, sounding embarrassed.

"Oh, it's understandable, Mr Mandrake. Just take your time," she said kindly, "Well, since my concern is satisfied, I'll take my leave then. Have a good afternoon Mr Mandrake."

"You as well, Miss Bernise," Simion said softly as he closed the door.

He sighed loudly, happy he defused a possible situation. It was then that he realised the throbbing sensation was returning. With that he knew the Voice was soon to follow.

"Do you honestly think she buys that? If she did, she's sure to change her mind once she spots one of those posters around town. She'll turn you in on an instant!"

"No! I've done enough needless killing! It's your fault Lavos is dead! I will not let anyone else be harmed. There's only one more person to kill and then I'm done with it. Done with you!" Simion said determinably.

Simion could almost sense the Voice grinning inside his head. "You seem to be forgetting something... You have a dead body in your house. If the Town Guard were to suddenly showup, just the bloodstains around the house would ruin everything. So what are you going to do with the body?"

"It's the middle of the day so right now, I leave him as he is. Once it's late enough, I sneak out of my house and stash him in an alley. I'll remove his valuables and make seem as if he was mugged. The wound is unlike any I've done to the Town Guard; they'll think it's someone else," he said, hoping to believe his words.

"Fine. That's good enough. For now, clean this place up and stick the body in the corner or something..." the Voice trailed off and the throbbing ceased.



Later that night, a stealthy Simion exited his home with a large lump hanging over his shoulder. He peered into the darkness. Satisfied, he carried the lump to the nearest alleyway.

Little did he notice the flicker of closing curtains coming from the home of a young Imperial woman from across the street.

Ohh, poor Bernise. Or poor Simion...we shall see.

Ah, yes. There's great tragedy and despair here. It's so sad.

Normally I would get depressed from these situations but you make it all good. The descriptions, the thoughts, the voice. They give shape to the story and force me to keep reading.

Another shorter one, kinda hit a fit of laziness plus long hours of work this week tired me out. Enough of the excuses though! Hopefully I'll get the next update out a bit sooner than this one.

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Savlian’s mood could be described as furious at best. Someone obviously thought Savlian was sticking his nose in business that was better left alone. That someone was Hlodir if the Orc was speaking the truth. Unfortunately, the Orc’s word wasn’t going to be enough to arrest Hlodir. The Count would demand better proof and Savlian intended to get it.

Hooking onto the Orc’s arm, Savlian said, “You and me are going down to the barracks for a talk,” and began dragging him towards the barracks.

Savlian knew exactly what had to be done to get ample proof of Hlodir’s guilt. If, indeed, the Orc had been issued orders by Hlodir to murder Savlian, then the Orc would’ve seen his face. All that was needed was to get the Orc’s description of Hlodir, and see if it actually looks like Hlodir. The Count would not be able to deny that proof, as well as the Orc’s testimony.

Unceremoniously, Savlian tossed the Orc onto a chair in the interrogation room. The room was completely unfurnished, excluding the chair, and there was a steady drip of water hitting the concrete floor in the corner. Savlian at first intended to get that problem fixed, but once he found out that the incessant dripping got answers from crooks better than standard procedure he kept it.

The Orc was in rough shape, considering he was beaten down twice in one day. His green trousers were caked with mud from the rainy weather, and his shirt was in ruins. Not only was it ripped from the struggles he had been in that day, but a large red stain filled the upper portion due to a wound to his head being struck with a sword hilt. His face was bruised from Savlian's foot to the face that had finally knocked him out and a trickle of blood still ran down his chin from a tooth being kicked out. He looked exceptionally tired, his eyes downcast at the floor, guilt written across his face. He could only guess at what was in store for him and he did not like his possibilities.

Savlian paced before him, gathering his senses. The adrenaline was still pumping through his system from the narrow escape from the assassins. Interrogating took time and precision, the point was to get every possible piece of information from the suspect. If one was too hasty, something valuable could be missed.

After enough pacing, Savlian figured he was calm enough to proceed. He looked at the Orc intently, measuring him up. The Orc had a look of defeat, so the procedure should go quite well. He then looked over at the scribe next to him, waiting with ink and parchment. Nodding that he was ready to the scribe, he turned his attention to the Orc once more. “What is your name?”

The Orc wetted his lips and hoarsely said, “Barlok gro-Mann, sir.”

“Well, Barlok, today you and I have had a few altercations have we not? First I catch you in a drug bust, you run away and then later tonight you try to kill me in my sleep. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir,” he said weakly, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“Those are serious crimes, Barlok. Considering it was me you were trying to kill, death seems to be the only suitable punishment for yourself…” Savlian trailed off, observing the horrified look of the Orc and decided to continue, “But, I could always be convinced to show you some mercy. You just have to help me with a few things.”

Eager to save his own neck, Barlok blurted, “Just tell me what you want and I’ll do anything that’s possible to help you!”

Savlian smiled. That’s exactly want he wanted to hear. “Well first off, I want the names of those you’ve been working with. My job is to get skooma off my streets. It’ll be a lot easier to do my job if I know who is involved with this drug operation.”

With that, the Orc began to list a barrage of people involved in the drug trafficking operation that he knew of. Savlian kept a careful eye on the scribe, just to make sure none of them were missed. When Hlodir’s name was vocalized, Savlian cut the Orc off.

“Hold on a second. Wasn’t Hlodir the one who told you to kill me?”

“Yes he did. If you ask me, I think it’s because he didn’t want you catching onto who is behind the drug operation,” Barlok said plainly.

Savlian’s curiosity was piqued. “Does that mean you know who is behind the operation then?”

Barlok went to speak but hesitated. Savlian immediately jumped on it.

“They’re not going to get to you here, it’s safe to tell me,” Savlian said, attempting to encourage the Orc.

The silence before the Orc spoke felt like torture to Savlian. But the name Barlok uttered at barely a whisper stunned him.

“Count Vernon Goldwine, sir.”

It seemed inconceivable at first, but suddenly Savlian knew that Barlok wasn’t lying. It explained some of the Count’s actions. The previous criminals involved in the drug operation weren’t being taken for private interrogation. They were being silenced by the Count. It also explained why he didn’t let Savlian arrest Hlodir. He hoped to change that though.

“Barlok, can you give --” Savlian began but a knock on the door cut out what he was going to say. Savlian opened the door and found himself facing another guard.

“Sir, there’s someone here to see you,” the guard said.

“You can tell them I’m busy. I’m doing important work here,” Savlian said, slightly annoyed at being disturbed by something so trivial.

“I think you should speak with her though. It’s regarding the serial killer,” the guard said calmly, obviously expecting Savlian’s initial reaction.

Savlian now found himself at an impasse. Both situations were important, and he felt that he should personally deal with both. After weighing both the situations in his head, he made up his mind. He turned back to the Orc and the scribe.

“I’m going to put you in a special cell for the time being. It’s away from the public cells, so you’ll be by yourself. Hopefully no one will know you’re here. I’m going to issue an order to not allow anyone but myself to release you from your cell, even if it’s the royal guard trying to get you out. You’ll be perfectly safe there,” Savlian stated to the Orc, who simply nodded grimly.

Savlian returned his attention back to the guard waiting at the door. “Show me to this woman.”

Uh oh, living next to a murderer ust cause nightmares. Now Savlian has two problems. The count and Simion. I wonder if the guards are still loyal enough to their captain to put the count away. Or wait, this is Kvatch, right? Maybe the Daedra will attack and Savlian *cough* accidentally *cough* hits the count while defending him.

So much possibilities. I want answers. So please continue.

Excellenty described, I felt like I was watching one of those police shows! As Cloudy Said, continue!

And continue I shall. This update is yet again brought to you from work. Rainy Saturdays are soooo boring!


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Savlian followed the guard to the room where he left the witness. During the walk, Savlian pondered on just what this witness had to say. He wasn’t in the mood to be bothered with trivial suspicions, as they would interfere with the dangerous situation he found himself currently in. The town of Kvatch was becoming a nightmare for Savlian. Not only did he have some psychotic killer murdering his men, but also the ruler of the town was actually trying to kill him to cover-up his involvement with a massive drug operation. If this witness was just wasting his time, he was going to give them a piece of his mind.

The guard waved Savlian through the door into the armoury. At Savlian’s questioning look, the guard replied, “She asked for privacy. Next to the interrogation rooms, this is the next private place at this time of night.”

Savlian thanked the guard and told him to return to his duties. He watched the guard walk out of view before entering the armoury.

The room was pitched in darkness, excluding a flickering light of a torch at the far corner of the room. Savlian wove his way instinctively past stands of armour and weapon cases. As he approached the source of the light, Savlian saw the flickering silhouette of a woman. He rounded the crate of arrows and stood before the person holding the torch. She wore a simple grey cloak over modest clothing. Her dirty blonde hair was neatly tied behind her head, but the torchlight left her face shadowed.

“Evening, Ma’am. I’m Captain Savlian Matius. Are you the witness I’m supposed to meet?” he asked calmly. Sometimes witnesses were often distressed. It was understandable in this case; this lady could’ve possibly seen the killer murder someone. Death was hard to witness for some people.

The lady stepped forward, allowing the torchlight to hit her face, revealing the young Imperial woman he had talked with earlier that day. “Sorry to bother you this late at night, Captain, but I thought it was important enough,” she said apologetically.

“Don’t worry, I was up anyway. I’m sorry, but I don’t recall if I ever got your name from this afternoon.”

“It’s Bernise,” she said, extending her hand, which Savlian shook and greeted her once more.

“Now I know you wouldn’t come here asking for me unless it was serious. So what do you have to say to me?” Savlian asked, becoming serious.

Bernise stared intently into Savlian’s eyes, her own eyes glistening in the light. “My neighbour matches the posters you’ve been posting around town and tonight I saw him carrying a body out of his house,” she said, her voice mixed with shock and horror.

“How certain are you?” Savlian asked eagerly, his patience broken by the day’s events.

“His face is nearly identical to the picture on the posters, he has the same scar. I was watching him leave the house with the body from my own home. Though it was dark out, I’m quite sure I could make out the hands dangling behind his back. I think it was a Dunmer, but it was too dark to distinguish what race the body was.”

“So who is this neighbour of yours then?” Savlian asked.

“His name is Simion Mandrake,” she said shuddering, almost as if she was repulsed by the name now.

“Mandrake? The recluse?” Savlian asked.

“Yes, the one we were talking about earlier,” Bernise answered.

Savlian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It makes sense… Isolation is a sign of odd behaviour. Serial killers aren’t usually the most stable mentally, yet they exude stability to the public.”

Bernise’s eyes shown with understanding. “That’s exactly what he did to me. He lied straight to my face, with a sorry little smile on his face.”

Savlian looked at her confused. “What are you talking about?”

Bernise, looking embarrassed, replied, “Sorry. Earlier today, I heard yelling and some thumping coming from Mr Mandrake’s house. Later on I went to his home and asked him about it. He just acted embarrassed and said he cut himself on a broken lantern and threw a fit. It was after that that I found the posters and became suspicious.”

Savlian absorbed the information for a few moments before asking, “Around what time did you hear these noises?”

Bernise thought for a few seconds and answered, “Around midday, Captain.”

“Thanks you Bernise, you don’t believe how beneficial your report is. Do you have anything else to tell me?” Savlian asked, making sure he had gained all possible information. She shook her head no and he continued, “Well then, you best be off home. I’ll escort you home if you’d like.”

“No, that might draw suspicion if he happens to see me,” she said.

“Smart thinking. Just make sure you lock yourself up safely. If what you say is true, and I believe it is, then you are living next to a very dangerous man,” Savlian cautioned.

“What are you going to do about it though, Captain?” Bernise asked fearfully.

“I have a body to find,” Savlian replied grimly.

DUN DUN DUN!

Our brave hero, Savlian, ventures out into the night. Shall he find the body of he who lost his life in his attempt to bring back the slayer's sanity? Will he survive the great dangers of the night? Will the count find a way to slay our valiant defender of the innocent? Will it rain? Will it snow? Will it be a sunny day? Or will the weather be something else? Stay tuned here, where the night is coloured Sanguine without any involvement of the Dark Brotherhood!

Note: Unfortunately, our Tamrielan weather sattelite was knocked out of orbit by a stray fireball. Curse those bloody mages.

Whatever you do Mallet, just keep writing.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Sep 2 2006, 08:31 PM

**Randomly casts fireballs into the Atmosphere attempting to see if Secunda and Masser are solid**

Ooops. Sorry about that Jack!

And yeah MM keep writing brother. I am VERY intrigued.

Great stuff you write here Metal M! Really interesting and a definite must-read. I beg your pardon I haven´t commented as much as I really wanted to, but that thing called RL..is very intrusive sometimes!

Anyway keep it up it´s really good!

Yay! The first week of school is done and I still find time to write! Though my updates might be more on a weekly basis now. I think before school started it was like that anyways but whatever. For all I know today I might pull a Black Hand and make like 5 updates today!

Anyways, time to continue!



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Dawn’s first rays of sunlight were just beginning to cascade across Kvatch when Savlian found the body of a robed Dunmer. No valuables or money were found on the Dunmer, so the most likely situation was that the Dunmer was killed in a mugging. Given Bernise’s report though, Savlian knew this was simply a cover-up. While it didn’t have the flair that the usual murders did, Savlian still felt the malicious intent committed upon this mer. He knew that the same person that had been killing his men killed this mer.

But what was the reason? When Savlian first examined the body, he knew right away that this was a stranger to Kvatch. Did he happen to witness a murder and the murderer knew he witnessed it, so the only resolution was to remove him? Or did he know the murderer?

Upon pondering that question, the mortician present at the scene called Savlian over.

“Look at this,” the mortician said, indicating a black tattoo located on the inner forearm of the Dunmer, “What do you think it is?”

Savlian studied the marking closely, finally voicing his answer, “It looks like a hand to me. A Black Hand….” His voiced trailed off after realising what he was saying.

The mortician fixed Savlian with a curious look. “What’s the problem, Captain?”

“This Dunmer is an assassin…” Savlian whispered, “Though I have no idea with what faction.”

Savlian’s knowledge on the Morag Tong and the Dark Brotherhood were very limited. He had heard the coined term “the black hands of Mephala” before. He knew that Mephala was the patron of the Morag Tong, but that’s about it. He also found out when interrogating a captured Dark Brotherhood murderer that the top five ranking members of the Brotherhood are known as the “Black Hand”. Unfortunately, that was the only information they could get out of the assassin before he was executed.

The tattoo alone wasn’t too helpful in determining which faction this Dunmer was apart of. Savlian was leaning on the Morag Tong though. While it was certainly very rare for the Morag Tong to pursue a writ that goes out of Morrowind, it wasn’t unheard of. Savlian also thought the Dark Brotherhood would only allow actually members in the Black Hand to wear such a tattoo. If that were the case, this assassin would be extremely skilled and probably would’ve put up a fight if his life were threatened. Signs of struggle weren’t evident, so Savlian felt that the Dunmer was likely a Morag Tong Agent. This still posed some more questions though.

Was this Dunmer an accomplice that failed to meet his partner’s standards? Again the question on whether the Dunmer knew the killer could be brought up. If the answer was yes, then what caused the killer to murder someone they knew? More than likely, if they knew each other they were both in the same faction. It certainly explained the skill present in these murders. The thought that this was involving the Morag Tong was becoming more certain as Savlian thought about it more. He knew that the Morag Tong practice was considered legal, at least in Morrowind. Certainly they would be upset if they found that one of their agents went rogue and started they own killing spree. Obviously, they would send someone to “dispose of the situation”, less it’s discovered a Morag Tong Assassin was behind the murders. It would tarnish their reputation of being honourable and neutral.

What still unsettled Savlian was that the Dunmer looked like he enjoyed his death. A smirk was stretched plain across his face. How can anyone be seriously happy with his or her own death? To Savlian, that was unimaginable. His goal was to preserve life whenever possible by apprehending, or, in the worse case, eliminating the threats on life. It was something he felt like he had to do. He had spent too much time as a threat on life and needed to redeem himself. So what could possibly make someone smile at his or her own demise? Some sort of deception? The wound to the base of the back of the neck wasn’t instantly lethal, so he would’ve been able to react in facial expression at least. Wounds like that generally render the victim immobile, and given Savlian’s presumptions, it was a surprise attack. Betrayal didn’t seem that amusing to Savlian. There was obviously something missing that Savlian wasn’t likely going to figure out. For all he knew, the Dunmer might have been in a delusional state and thought of something funny just before death. Savlian was just going to have to leave that unanswered it seemed.

Savlian was finished with his work here. He told the mortician that the rest was up to him and if any urgent discoveries were made that he was to be informed immediately. By now, the sun had risen well over the horizon and Kvatch was slowly waking up. People were all ready beginning to roam the streets, and discussing with each other the latest gossip or the weather, which was nice compared to the gloom of the day before. It was then that Savlian realised how tired he was. He wasn’t really sore anymore, but he was absolutely drained of energy from lack of sleep and the extended use of adrenaline.

He set off towards the barracks; as his home was still too damaged to return to. There would be bed there he could use. He would need his wits sharp when he took Mr Mandrake in for questioning.

Oh I like this one...I like this one a lot....I wonder why?

Hmm, I dunno. Maybe because it frequently involves the discussion of assassins? It mentions the Morag Tong and the Dark Brotherhood? Possibly a CSI reference (possibly, it is a crime drama basically). Maybe the mention of your name, Black Hand? I could keep making assumptions but I think that's enough.

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