Bloodlust - The Continuation, And the likely conclusion as well!!! Options

[The Metal Mallet]

Well, here's the link to the previous thread: Bloodlust - The Beginning

You can continue your praisings of my written words here. Expect an update next Saturday. I don't expect I'll get one out sooner. School starts again

[The Metal Mallet]

Sorry about the delay. Saturday was quite busy and I always have bit more trouble writing at home due to the fact that they're are plenty more distractions! But I guess a good writer shouldn't make excuses... Ohwell, I still do! Here's today's update! The next one should be a bit more action-packed for those of you anxiously waiting for some more bloodshed.


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“What!?” Sethyas asked incredulously, his fork clattering upon his plate.

Savlian couldn’t help but look around the Inn to see if anyone was drawn to Sethyas’ outburst. Satisfied that no one cared, he repeated himself.

“The Count wishes to meet you. I suggest you’d don’t deny him.”

Sethyas leaned in towards him so that his face was merely inches away from his face. At this distance, Savlian could tell that Sethyas hadn’t been sleeping well lately. The assassin’s ember eyes seemed dimmer than they should’ve been, and they also sported heavy bags hanging underneath making his face appear as if it was drooping. Unkempt stubble littered his chin and the tone of his skin seemed paler than it should’ve been. Perhaps the stress of the situation was having its way with him.

“I came here under secrecy! I have a duty I must see to. I do not have the time to congregate with politicians! Especially Imperial ones!” Sethyas whispered harshly, his eyes briefly lighting up to an intense red.

Savlian was slightly taken aback by Sethyas’ prejudice remark. He couldn’t understand why Sethyas would be so hostile about this situation. If anything, Sethyas should be privileged to receive the Count’s audience. Obviously, there was something beyond the current situation that was making Sethyas react this way.

“Well I should warn you, Sethyas. If you don’t meet with Ormellius, your cover will most certainly be blown. On the other hand, you will more than likely preserve your secrecy if you do meet him. I can vouch for Ormellius; he’s a fair man.”

Sethyas’ eyes drifted downwards to the table, where they stayed while he thought on his decision. Savlian thought by the set of the Dunmer’s jaw, he was clenching his teeth. Finally, after a few moments, Sethyas ran his hands through his black hair, eventually clasping them behind his neck.

“Fine, I’ll go see this Count, but this better not take long,” he said in a defeated sigh.



Sethyas was more than a little agitated that he had to meet the Count of Kvatch. He had more pressing issues to deal with, namely finding Simion. But on the other hand, when your much needed secrecy is being threatened, a slight inconvenience can be tolerated in order to maintain your secrecy. So it was upon this reasoning that Sethyas now being led to Count Goldwine’s private office by Savlian.

There had been no conversation between Sethyas and Savlian as they had made their way to the castle. Sethyas was still somewhat sceptical of the Imperial, especially since he now revealed that they were willing to manipulate him in order to get what they wanted. Even now it seemed that Sethyas could not escape the Empire’s clutches. It was this that did little to improve his thoughts about Imperials in general. Very few had managed to earn his trust, and while Sethyas thought that Savlian might eventually earn that trust, this present manoeuvre had left Sethyas with a bitter taste in his mouth.

Savlian knocked upon the office door three times then waited for a reply. A muffled, stern voice called them in. Walking through, Sethyas immediately examined the surroundings of the office. There was a subdued aura of elegance encompassing the office. It wasn’t heavily furnished; just a grandiose mahogany desk and three large, and comfortable looking chairs. Draped along the walls were expertly drawn maps, some of which focused on certain areas while others were complete provincial maps. Sethyas attention then drifted to the man sitting behind the desk.

Ormellius was a broad-shouldered and fit middle-aged man. His face was clean shaven and his expression hard. Intelligence danced in his eyes. He was garbed in fine cloth, but it was cut in a rather conservative and militaristic style. No sense of elegance or vanity seemed to emanate from the man. Sethyas figured that this was the kind of person that took everything and anything seriously.

“Sir, this is the mer you asked for,” Savlian said, gesturing to Sethyas.

Count Goldwine rose from his chair. “Thank you, Captain. You may excuse yourself now,” he said as he rounded the desk.

Surprise flashed across Savlian’s eyes briefly before it was replaced with blank servitude. Clasping his right hand to his heart and bowing slightly, Savlian turned on his heel and exited the office, leaving Sethyas with the most powerful man in Kvatch.

The Count extended his hand. “Greetings, Sethyas Velas, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said humbly.

Sethyas gripped the hand with a black gloved hand. The Count’s grip was firm, but not crushing. As the handshake broke away though, Sethyas thought that the Count’s hand brushed against his ring in a purposeful way. “The greeting is humbly returned,” Sethyas replied.

The Count then beckoned Sethyas to take a seat, while the Count returned to the seat he had previously used. Under the desk, the Count retrieved two glasses and a bottle of Cyrodillic Brandy. “Care to have a glass? I have heard that our brandy is a favourite of yours,” the Count offered nonchalantly, popping the cork off the bottle.

Sethyas was caught off guard by the comment. “Sure…” he replied hesitantly as he looked carefully at the Count.

The Count busied himself with pouring the glasses, though he looked across the table at the Dunmer and a flat smile crossed his lips. After finishing topping off the glasses, he passed one over to Sethyas. “I won’t toy with you anymore, Sethyas. I have heard of your exploits before…” he said before taking a sip of the brandy, “Nerevarine.”

Sethyas scoffed. “So I take it that’s why you felt my hand for Moon and Star when we shook hands.”

The Count shrugged. “Subtlety was never my forte. I prefer blunt, straight to the point truth. I’m good at that.”

Sethyas took a sip of brandy, but still kept his apprehension. “So Count Goldwine, for what reason is it that you brought here?”

The Count clasped his hands and rested them upon the table. “Well, it does pertain to the current situation we’re dealing with. You see, Savlian had kept me in the dark about most of the details of this Simion problem until recently. He brought up your name, and to find out you, the Nerevarine, was in my town, I knew I had to speak with you.”

The Count’s statement made Sethyas curious about something. “Before we start talking about Simion I have one question: how well known am I here?”

“Well I personally keep an eye on international news. I like to keep on top of things. Plus, I believe we both share an acquaintance. His name is Caius Cosades. Other than that, I don‘t think many outside of the Blades would really know what you look like. They‘ve heard of the Nerevarine, but not many recall your name,” Ormellius replied.

“Caius! That old dog! I haven’t heard from his since he was recalled,” Sethyas exclaimed, “Speaking of which, how is he right now?”

“Last I heard he’s trying to separate himself form the Blades. Or at least, that’s what he told me, though sometimes you can’t trust a single thing that man says,” Ormellius replied as they both shared a laugh. Clearing his throat, Ormellius continued. “It’s time to get serious. I want you to tell me everything you know about this Simion situation. Don’t exclude anything.”

Sethyas followed the Count’s wish. He gave an account of his side of the story, informing him about what Simion was like while he was still in the Morag Tong, to the strange event against the Dark Brotherhood. He continued on, speaking of the trip to Kvatch and what had happened while he was here. The whole time, Ormellius listened carefully to his words, though he took sips of his brandy from time to time. After Sethyas was finished, the Count remained silent for a few moments as he pondered on the information.

Finally, his eyes met with the assassin. “Both of your stories match up, with some slight variances but nothing that would tell me that Savlian was still withholding information.”

Understanding dawned in Sethyas’ eyes. “So that’s why you asked Savlian to leave.”

Ormellius nodded before draining the last bit of his brandy. He looked out of the nearby window and noticed that the sun had moved a significant distance since Sethyas had arrived. “Looks like we’ll have to end our discussion here Sethyas; I have other duties to attend to before the day ends,” he said rising from his seat and extending his hand once more, “We’ll have to talk once again once this situation is taken care of. For now, I hope you choose to co-operate with us in catching Simion. You’re expertise will go a long way with us. Plus…” he paused, “Surely Simion must be less of a threat then say Dagoth Ur, or whatever other beasts you’ve dealt with.”

Sethyas made no comment to that statement as he returned the handshake; instead he simply thanked the Count before leaving. Once he was outside the castle he sighed audibly. The Count believed him to be some sort of hero, someone specifically here to vanquish evildoers with ease. That was never the case. All the things Sethyas had accomplished had been done simply because they had to be done. Had he not been thrown into the mess, he would’ve avoided it. But life had decided not to give him that luxury, instead choosing to involve him in prophecy and bloodshed.

The Count also thought that Simion was a simply challenge compared to what Sethyas had dealt with before. Again, that was not the case. Simion was something new, unique, for Sethyas. This was not some crazed god, inhumane beast, or an inept person underestimating him. Sure, he had dealt with assassins before, but Simion was an anomaly. He could certainly be the most skilled assassin he faced, but it is his sickness, his madness, that left a sense of uncertainty crawling up Sethyas’ spine. Right now, he was involved in a game of cat and mouse, and presently he didn’t know which character he was. Just thinking about that gave him the feeling that he was being watched. Shrugging the feeling away, he continued on, heading back to “The Flying Bosmer”.

He did not notice the quick flicker of black cloth whipping behind the cover of a chimney overhead.