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

[canis216]

:Hypnotism: Post-machine, Mallet, post-machine :Hypnotism:

OK, so I shouldn't be talking about post-machining, since I haven't updated in a week... but I'm putting out an update tonight, I promise!

On topic... this latest update is great Mallet! Keep it coming!

[Black Hand]

Wow,....I have a term named after me now?

**makes seven updates in three hours**

As for the story Mallet, it's terribl....


.....ly addictive. Keep it up!

[Lord Revan]

*loads a shot gun and slowly creeps up behind Black Hand*

[Black Hand]

**Knows that Revan is there. Cuz, you cant sneak up on an Assassin**

"Connect the dots, Lord Revan. I said Terribly Addictive."

[Lord Revan]

Yeah, well it looked like you paused to think of something you could turn that into something good. *stows shotgun and gets back in his seat*

This post has been edited by Lord Revan: Jan 28 2007, 08:58 PM

[jack cloudy]

*A metal foot the size of Caius' house stomps down into Kvatch.*

Now, now. Let's not fight here, shall we? As for the possibility of some post-machining, sounds great!

Sidenote: I just saw a movie of Kvatch on the internet yesterday! The moment Savlian Matius came into view, I went all like: ,,Cool! It's Savlian! He looks different than I thought but still, that's a nice touch Mallet made there."


Second sidenote: Umm, I think I just smashed part of the citywall to pieces. I've found a Daedric shield and a full collection of Orcish though. Perhaps that's enough to fund the repairs?

[The Metal Mallet]

Why you smashing up my city! It's people are getting killed and you have to so inconsiderate and small her walls! Poor Kvatch! I'll still take the armour though! And yea... I guess the hypnotism didn't work, decided to rest up before school starts again rather than post machine, sorry. I just guest my normal writing atmosphere is better than my home. Anyways, here's today's update. I'm sure you'll enjoy this one!



----------------------

The alley stunk of stale sweat and garbage, causing Taris’ expression to turn sour. Beside him, Rah’mirr kept his alert eyes scanning the adjoining alleyways. Taris also knew that in the nearby vicinity, two more Morag Tong agents were searching for Simion. If the Breton was hiding in these alleys, they were going to find him.

In all his time serving Mephala and the Morag Tong, this was Taris’ first time enacting the Guild rules for those who betrayed them. He couldn’t even recall a time in the Morag Tong’s history when such an event had happened. All Morag Tong assassins had either perished on the duty or had retired peacefully, not so with Simion. Vengeance had enticed him to break an oath that should’ve never been broken. For that, it was his duty, as well as the other’s duty, to put an end of Simion’s disgrace to the Guild.

Taris had only been a rookie when Simion was still in the Guild. Even at that time, Simion was known as an accomplished assassin. He was skilled, but humble, two traits that worked really well together. That was until the Arena Underworks Incident happened. He had been assigned to clean up the mess, and what mess it was. It didn’t even look like an assassin killed the Dark Brotherhood agents. Instead, it looked as if a barbarian horde of Orcs had stormed through the Underworks. Witnessing the aftermath of Simion’s wrath had both amazed Taris as well as inspired fear for Simion. It took something unnatural to do what had been done to those assassins single-handedly.

Taris had never spoken with Simion before that incident, giving him the respect of his superior rank, and after it he decided to keep away from him all together. He had heard about the attack on Lavos and Taris certainly did not want to share the same fate.

Yet again, Taris felt that he didn’t even want to face the renegade assassin. Yet again, he did not want to share the same fate as Lavos. Sure, his career choice was dangerous, but he felt that he many years of life yet to live. He didn’t want to miss out on them.

Rah’mirr must have sensed something in his companion, as he placed his paw re-assuredly upon Taris’ shoulder.

“Do not fear, young Taris. Together, you and Rah’mirr pose a great threat to Simion. Rah’mirr will watch your back as you watch Rah’mirr’s. We will live to see the Breton’s end.”

Taris smiled as he returned the gesture to his Khajiit companion. “I needed that. Being an assassin, you’d think I wouldn’t be afraid of my own death though. I should be well accustomed to it by now.”

Rah’mirr’s expression softened. “No sane person is not afraid of death,” he answered honestly.

Taris nodded. “Good words, my friend, good words.”

Rah’mirr’s eyes returned to scanning his surroundings. “We’d best keep going,” he said warily as he started walking again.

Taris held back momentarily before continuing. Rah’mirr was right. No one in his or her right mind would be fearless of death. Bravery was simply coping with the fear to accomplish the goal. Bravery was what Taris had to conjure in order to survive his mission.

Shortly after Rah’mirr and Taris resumed their searching, a cry sounded from an adjacent alley, followed by the sound of metal crashing against metal. Instantly both assassins had their weapons drawn.

“That sounded like…” Taris trailed off as it dawned on him what was happening. Immediately, he took off at a sprint towards the source of the struggle. Plain looking brink blurred past his vision as he progressed his way through the dank alleyways. The only sound indicating that Rah’mirr was followed was the odd tapping of claws upon the ground.

Twisting around the corner, Taris arrived to a bloody scene. Two bodies were collapsed against the ground, one of them Taris didn’t know, but he quickly surmised that he was homeless. The other body was that of one of the Dunmer assassins. Blood covered the front of his body, as it appeared that a single sword slash to the body had taken his life.

In front of Taris, Simion stood locking blades with the other assassin, who was desperately trying to withstand Simion’s strength. His knees were buckling under the effort.

Simion’s eyes made briefly made contact with Taris’. In that instant, Taris stopped dead in his tracks. Something was horrifyingly familiar in that look. Something that he would have never thought he would see again.

“Father!?” he whispered in shock and fear.

It was Rah’mirr that snapped him from his discovery. “We must aid our Brother, young Taris!” he said harshly, leaping ahead of Taris to get to Simion. Taris quickly followed suit and chased after the Khajiit.

Simion caught sight of the approaching assassins. He had merely been toying with this one and decided it was time to stop playing. With one fluid motion, he shifted his pressing blade and using his momentum, he swirled past the assassin. Simion’s sword swirled in a beautiful arc and with a quick thrust backwards, the sword drove itself through the assassin’s body, piercing out the other side. The assassin gasped in pain and stared down at the crimson stained metal jutting out of his torso before his life escaped him and he slumped upon the blade.

“I have no time for you right now!” Simion shouted at the approaching assassins before hurling the corpse towards them.

Both assassins were caught off guard by the tactic and the corpse crashed into both of them, sending them both to the ground. Taris and Rah’mirr struggled between themselves and the body as they tried to get up. Once they did only the silence of the alley greeted them. Simion had disappeared.

Rah’mirr shouted a curse and kicked a nearby crate, smashing it to splinters. Taris could only look in horror as the deaths of his comrades finally registered in his brain.

“They’re dead! He killed them as if they were nothing!” Taris sobbed as he stared at the forming pool of blood enveloping the body of the recently killed assassin.

Rah’mirr came to Taris’ side, his eyes still burning with anger. “They have gone to somewhere where they shall feel no more pain. May Mephala bless them,” he said in a sombre tone, offering a prayer to their patron for their fallen comrade’s safe passage to the other side.

Taris added his own prayer before picking up his fallen comrade. “They are Dunmer, they’ll need to be taken to their appropriate ancestral tomb,” he told Rah’mirr, who went and picked up their other fallen comrade.

“We must inform the Grandmaster,” Rah’mirr said softly as Taris nodded in reply.

It was then that the sound of armoured footsteps was heard echoing off the alley walls. Rah’mirr cursed again. The Town Guard had arrived.

A pair of Imperials decked out in chain mail and the emblem of Kvatch emblazoned on their breastplate jogged into view. Instantly, they had their broadswords out and pointed at the assassins.

“Stay where you are!” the foremost guard ordered as they approached slowly.

Taris stood still and maintained a harmless stance. “We don’t intend to do you any harm sirs,” he said as nicely as possible.

“Then relieve yourself of any weapons!” the guard ordered.

Taris placed his fallen comrade softly on the ground and nodded to Rah’mirr to do the same. He did so reluctantly.

Taris handed his short sword and daggers to the other guard. “Take us to Captain Savlian; we must speak to him about this,” he said in an even voice.

The guard who had been speaking so far arched an eyebrow. “You know Captain Savlian?” he asked with some scepticism.

“We have met and spoken before,” Taris replied.

The guard paused and seemed to be thinking about something. “You’ll have to leave those bodies here for now; they’re apart of a crime scene now. We’ll escort you to the barracks instead of arresting you for the moment. Don’t try any funny business, you understand?” the guard said sternly after he had made up his mind.

“I won’t do anything,” Taris assured them, Rah’mirr nodding to the same words.

“All right, let’s go,” the guard said, ushering the two assassins in front of him.

As Taris was led along by the guards towards the barracks he hoped that he would be able to convince Savlian to get Sethyas. For he suspected he would not be able to leave the barracks anytime soon. He needed to report to Sethyas about what he saw in Simion’s eyes. He knew that look, as he had often seen the exact same expression upon his father’s face, particularly after a messy deed had been committed. Something more than simple revenge was going on here and Taris was sure this link with his father might have something to do with it.

Hopefully, he’ll be able to speak with Sethyas.

[jack cloudy]

Sorry, I didn't plan to! Seriously, you have to realize that parking a great Centurion is hard.

Anyway, the last update is very interesting. Taris and Rah'mirr share a nice relationship it appears. Then there is Simion. I've got some interesting speculations regarding the voice now.

[canis216]

Yeah, I'm wondering about that voice, too...

[Soulseeker3.0]

Wow, creepy, and i too am looking differently at the voice.... I didn't know voices could breed j/k please update soon because i'm dieing to know what the deal is.

[minque]

Very nice and intriguing as always Mallie! You, like the other post-machines, are just incredible, I just wish I could post as fast as you do....Anyway keep up the good work!

[Black Hand]

Simion is getting more and more....mysterious...I look forward to the next update Mallet....here comes the post machine!! Such a post machine!

[The Metal Mallet]

The plot thickens!!! I think.... I've definitely been enjoying all the comments I've been getting recently. It's great to see you guys making speculations and all that.



-----------------------

Savlian stared across the table at the two assassins. Both looked at him, their faces an unreadable mask. Blood from their fallen comrades still covered their clothing in dark blotches. Under any normal circumstances, Savlian would’ve been quite certain that they were the guilty ones. But these circumstances were far from normal. He knew that they looked unbreakable because the two guardsmen who had brought them in still lingered in the room. Savlian had all ready spoken with them.

“You two are dismissed; I’ll take it from here,” he told the guardsman, assuring them of his own safety.

Once the door clicked shut, the assassins visibly relaxed. The one Savlian had previously met, Taris, leaned across the table. “We need you to bring Sethyas here. I have important news to report. He has to know about this as well, and I don’t feel like repeating myself,” Taris rasped quietly, seemly conscious that someone might be listening in on their conversation on the other side of the door.

Savlian leaned back in his chair and contemplated the demand. “Fine,” he answered after some time. If he would get some answers that way, why not?

“Thank you, Captain,” Taris said, returning to his seat. He pulled out a rolled piece of plant, what Savlian guessed was Hackel-Lo, and lit it. He put the plant to his lips and inhaled the burning extract of the plant. Grey smoke billowed from his mouth upon exhale and an earthy scent filled the room.

Savlian felt relaxed by the pleasant scent, but he had to find Sethyas now. “Where can I find him, Taris?”

Taris took another pull of his Hackel-Lo before answering. “He should be back at ‘The Flying Bosmer Inn’ by now,” he said after expelling another cloud of smoke.

Savlian rose from his seat. “I’ll have to keep you two under watch while I go out and get Sethyas. It’s protocol. I wouldn’t recommend any thoughts of sneaking out because that would only further suspicion that you two are the ones behind all these murders,” he warned before leaving the room.

Rah’mirr growled quietly, his anger over the event that led to this still having an effect on him. Taris turned to his companion and offered the Hackel-Lo to him. Rah’mirr fixed Taris with a glare, crossing his arms across his chest.

Taris pulled back the Hackel-Lo. “Just thought it would help to simmer you down,” Taris offered.

“Rah’mirr wishes to be angry. He has failed to kill Simion. Because of that, Rah’mirr’s comrades have yet to be avenged,” Rah’mirr said bitterly.

Taris was concerned for his friend. He was sure Rah’mirr had witnessed the deaths of other assassins before. Yet for some strange reason, he was taking this very personally. This was something Taris had never seen in the Khajiit.

“I’ve never seen you behave like this before after one of our comrades have fallen. What’s troubling you about this?” Taris asked, concern evident in his voice.

Rah’mirr shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It seemed as though he was battling with something within him. Finally, Rah’mirr met Taris’ eyes and Taris was shocked to see them glistening. The emotion spilling through stunned him.

“Rah’mirr could’ve ended this a long time ago,” he said sadly.

“A long time ago?” Taris asked, confused by the words of his companion.

Rah’mirr sighed audibly. “After the first incident, the one where he nearly killed Lavos, Rah’mirr was deeply angered by Simion’s actions. A couple of days after the incident, Rah’mirr planned to kill Simion in his sleep. Rah’mirr would’ve made it look as if it was natural so that the Guild wouldn’t have tried to find the responsible one. But, when Rah’mirr went to commit the deed, he found Simion awake. Simion was weeping and Rah’mirr thought it was due to remorse for his actions, so Rah’mirr left him,” he said sombrely,” … Rah’mirr thought wrong it seems,” he added sadly.

Taris took a moment to absorbed Rah’mirr’s confession. It certainly revealed why he was so affected by Simion’s slaughter of their comrades. Rah’mirr had been placing all the guilt upon himself and it was finally taking its toll.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Rah’mirr,” Taris said assuredly, “I believe what you saw was real compassion. Something has changed in Simion since then. You are certainly not to blame. Simion must be held accountable for his actions.”

Rah’mirr’s head lifted. “Perhaps you are right. People do change. But I still feel bad for missing my opportunity to redeem myself today,” Rah’mirr faced Taris once more and clasped his shoulder, “I will be fine my friend.”

Taris returned the gesture. “That is good news, my friend. Now let’s hope Sethyas arrives soon.”



Sethyas was doing quite well at hiding the anxiety he was feeling. The other assassins were at least an hour overdue from meeting up once more. It was because of this a sense of foreboding was building up within him.

He absent-mindedly took a puff from his Hackel-Lo, its restorative properties attempting to ease his mind. He caught the sound of an opening door and his eyes raced to the entrance, hoping to see signs of the others. Instead, he was surprised to see Captain Savlian enter. He watched the Captain scan the room and once their eyes met, the Captain approached him.

“I need you to come with me,” Savlian said straight to the point.

Sethyas looked at him sceptically. “Are you arresting me?” he said with a hint of bafflement.

“No, I’m merely escorting you to the barracks. Some friends of yours wish to speak with you,” Savlian said, avoiding the use of any names.

Sethyas’ eyes widened. “What’s happened?” he asked hurriedly.

Savlian cautiously scanned the rest of the Inn, though he avoided looking obvious doing so. “I’m not sure yet. They want you there to hear before they talk. So can we get moving?” Savlian said in a tone that obviously said that the Captain was losing his patience.

Sethyas rose, and discarded his smoke. He nodded to Savlian and the two proceeded to exit the Inn.



Savlian entered the interrogation room, Sethyas following closely behind, and found that the two assassins still sat patiently. At seeing the blood upon their clothing, Sethyas’ expression wilted.

“Is that…” Sethyas began.

“Both of theirs…” Taris finished.

Sethyas cursed and took a seat beside his fellow assassins. Savlian took the seat on the opposite side of the table. “Start at the beginning of the altercation,” he ordered.

Taris then began to dictate their altercation with Simion, with Rah’mirr adding points when he thought it was necessary. As Savlian listened, he could see in Sethyas’ eyes emotions of anger, sadness, and even rage. The creaking of his leather gloves seemed deafening in the rather quiet room.

“I must also add,” Taris continued, “That I saw a look in Simion’s eyes that I had only seen in one person before. And that looked belonged to my father.”

Sethyas’ eyes darkened and Savlian felt like he was missing something. “Your father?”

“Orvas Dren, Captain,” Rah’mirr said, “He held quite an influence in Vvardenfell a number of years ago. He ran a criminal ring called the Commona Tong.”

“The mer was a fetcher and a murderous scumbag,” Sethyas spat out before his expression, “Though that has no affect on what I think of you, Taris.”

“I know that, Sethyas,” Taris said amiably.

Savlian decided to press the issue at hand. “So what does your father and Simion have to do with each other?”

“Well, Simion was a part of a team of assassin sent in to kill my father. They succeeded, but I believe Simion was injured during the assassination,” Taris said, looking to Sethyas to see if he was correct. Sethyas nodded that it was true.

Savlian still wasn’t following. “So? What does that have to do with anything?”

Taris ran his fingers through his black hair. “I believe that something must’ve happened between the two, something that has allowed them to act the same. I just don’t know what did it,” Taris paused as the memories rose to the surface once again, “All I know is that look Simion gave me is almost exactly like my father’s. He only had that look when he killed and enjoyed it extremely. I used to call it his Bloodlust Look, because every time blood was spilt, that look appeared on his face. As a child it frightened me, and as an adult, it sickened me…”

Savlian was frustrated. This seemed ludicrous! “So are you suggesting we try to figure out how Simion was “changed” by your father during an event that happened several years ago?” he said, scepticism dripping from his voice.

Taris fixed Savlian with a glare. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. In fact, I wish to return to my villa and look around for inspiration. I still have a mark spell placed in Vivec.”

“How quick do you think you can get back here?” Sethyas asked.

“In a week,” Taris replied.

“Go to your villa then, but if you’re over a week late. We’re going to have a problem,” Sethyas warned the Dunmer, “Is he free to go, Captain?”

Savlian thought over the ridiculous notion of the Dunmer. Still, with one of them gone, there was lower chance of finding his body on the streets. “He may leave, but don’t cast that spell out in the open where people can see. We don’t like Mythicism in Cyrodiil,” he stated, waving the Dunmer off.

Taris rose from his chair. He gripped both assassins’ hand in a brother fashion.

“Travel swiftly, friend,” Rah’mirr said before Taris left the room.

[canis216]

Oh man, stories are crossing over and over... how many times has Orvas Dren died on this site's fanfics?

Still, this 'Bloodlust' thing is kind of reminding of that movie, years back, with Denzel Washington and John Goodman and some evil dude's transient soul... I never actually saw that movie, but I remember the previews.

But anyway, this is great stuff!

[jack cloudy]

Ahah, my theories have not yet been revealed as wrong. Ok, now I want to see the results of the investigation.


Canis, I believe that Orvas getting killed is the same thing as Fargoth getting trashed in various humiliating ways. For some reason, it always happens.

[The Metal Mallet]

Haha, yea canis, with all the crossovers there's bound to be some plotholes. Fortunately, it seems that our readers here aren't bothered by them, which is nice. The most obvious plothole in mine (well, obvious if you read Black Hand's "The Tale of Sethyas Velas") is that Orvas Dren was killed by Simion. Since I decided to make my story take place after Black Hand's "Tale(s)", in which Sethyas finishes off Dren, you find the plothole of how could both of them kill him?

But meh, I'm fine with having that. Hopefully those who are annoyed with plotholes like that won't get too annoyed over that

[canis216]

Yeah, it's no problem--it just amuses me.

It's just something funny with the space-time continuum, I'm sure. Akatosh's jills just haven't found it yet.

This post has been edited by canis216: Feb 11 2007, 01:20 AM

[Black Hand]

Well, yeah. Technically in the Sethyas timeline Simion is still in Vvardenfell. I wouldnt call them plotholes at all. In crossovers there are liberties that must be taken. But thanks for interpereting Sethyas so well!

And Canis, the movie you're thinking of is called 'Fallen'. I highly reccomend seeing it...it has a great twist!

[The Metal Mallet]

Here's a little bit of a shorter one today. I have projects to do this long weekend, so I figured I'd try to belt out a quick one. It still ends on a appropriate note though



--------------------------
Taris had wasted no time in his preparation to leaving Cyrodiil. After being released from the barracks, he had immediately travelled to “The Flying Bosmer” to gather his things. After that, he paid off the inn owner and swiftly vacated the town of Kvatch.

Now, he stood off in the woods nearby the main road that led to Chorrol. Taris made sure that no one was nearby, taking heed of Savlian’s warning about the use of teleportation magic. Certain that the area was clear of prying eyes, Taris activated his recall spell.

A wave of awkwardness attacked Taris’ senses briefly; adding that to a sense of weightlessness before Taris found himself standing in his office within his villa. The place looked exactly how he left it. The shelves of books still resided in the northern corner of the room, his desk, placed in front of a large window for its use of natural light, still had the jar of ink and cliffracer quills placed upon it. Everything was dust free as well. It meant that Freda was still doing her job.

Taris examined himself and realised that his clothes were still bloodstained from the altercation in the alley with Simion. Taris had been in such a hurry to get going, he had forgotten about the blood. Well, he was going to remedy that.

Taris left his office and began to head to his room. Along the way, an older looking Dunmer female rounded the corner carrying a load of clothing. At the sight of Taris, the startled Dunmer dropped her load of clothing; a high pitch squeak gave voice to her fright. Taris stopped and raised his hands to chest level, showing that he was unarmed.

“It’s just me, Freda. And the blood isn’t mine,” Taris said in a calming manner.

Freda’s eyes took a moment to recognise the master of the villa she worked for. Once they did, her eyes narrowed.

“I consider it quite inappropriate to spook your servants like that, serjo Dren!” she said sternly as she bent down to pick up the clothing she dropped, “Now I’ll have to clean some of these all over again.”

Taris helped Freda with picking up the clothing. Placing the last article on top of the pile, Taris gave his servant a small embrace.

“I’m sorry to have scared you, Freda. It was not my intention, and I wasn’t exactly planning on arriving back so soon.”

Freda eyed the assassin suspiciously. “You’re not in trouble with the law are you? By that blood on you, it looks like you’ve visited a slaughterhouse,” she exclaimed, her expression turning worrisome.

“It’s not like that. Actually, I’m kinda working with the law this time. Still, the reason for me being here is serious all the same.”

“Well I best stay out of your way then,” Freda said, beginning to head off. Taris stopped her though.

“Freda, if you have the time, could you locate any of my father’s possessions that we’ve kept in the villa?” he asked.

Freda looked about to ask Taris something, but stopped. Instead she simply nodded before leaving.




Taris stood in Orvas Dren’s room, his eyes taking in every nook and cranny of the room. Taris had decided to leave the room virtually untouched after his father’s death; he didn’t wish to sleep in the room of one who willingly caused those beneath him intense suffering.

The bed, long left untouched, was still made neatly. A stand of shelves still contained bits of various armours that Orvas had prided himself in collecting. One of his most cherished pieces, a pair of Daedric greaves, had been sent with his body to the Dren Ancestral Tomb. Taris hoped that he would not have to travel there to find his answer. It would only take away from the time he required to travel back to Kvatch.

The creaking of floorboards signalled Freda’s arrival. She carried a small crate, which rattled as the contents within moved about. Freda dropped the crate upon the bed unceremoniously. Brushing the dust off her hands, she looked to Taris.

“Well, that’s all that’s left here. Hopefully you find what you’re looking for,” she said, her voice hinting at worry, “Just be careful though; some memories aren’t meant to be remembered.”

Taris thanked the old Dunmer for her assistance. As she walked off, Taris opened up the crate and examined its contents. Inside there contained a couple of books, many of them religious books from the basically defunct Temple, and off the “good” Daedra. It also contained some exquisite jewellery and also an intricate looking dagger.

The dagger itself caught Taris’ attention. He picked up the weapon and read its inscription: “Silverbrand”. The name of the weapon further piqued Taris’ interest. The weapon was closely named to the legendary longsword, “Goldbrand”, which had been blessed by the Daedric Lord, Boethiah. Could this perhaps be a weapon also blessed by Boethiah?

Taris could understand why he father would possess such a weapon, should his speculation be correct. As a devout homeland Dunmer, Orvas held strong belief in traditional Dunmer religious, particularly the worship of what the Dunmer considered were the “Good Daedra”: Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah. Possessing anything blessed by those Daedra would be ample proof of Orvas’ devotion to tradition Dunmer values.

Taris placed the dagger aside and picked up one of the books. It happened to be about the Daedra, so he flipped to Boethiah’s page. What he read about the Daedric Lord got him thinking. Boethiah seemed to love violence, as if he revelled in the suffering of others. His attention returned to the dagger. It seemed more familiar now…

It was familiar! He had seen use it once before, in fact, he had seen Orvas drawing the blade across his forearm. Taris had peered into his father’s study, as he had thought he had heard a noise. Indeed the noise was the heavy breathing of Orvas, since he was cutting himself with the blade in some sort of ritualistic manner. The smell of burning flesh had been rank on his senses, but it was the crazed look in his father’s eyes that had scared him away. The same look that Simion has been using.

It looked like the answer was beginning to pull itself together.

[canis216]

Ah, this is most interesting. Boethiah behind the bloodlust, perhaps? Very intriguing.