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

[The Metal Mallet]

Another shorter one today. I hope you enjoy it all the same, though.



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Savlian walked into the Infirmary wing of the Barracks, a concerned expression on his face. The stench of blood, medicine, and bedpans greeted his nostrils as he entered. Rows of beds lined the walls of the room. Very few of them were occupied though, as only the few who had received serious injuries in the final battle against Hlodir still remained. That was not totally correct though, two beds had recently been taken. In one rested the silent corpse of a guardsman. The sheets had been pulled the body, covering it completely but a blotch of dark blood stained the cranial region of the body. Savlian’s gaze held upon that spot momentarily.

Another body on my conscience… he thought bitterly and turned his attention to the patient lying across from the body.

Sethyas rested in his bed slightly seated. His body was slightly paler due to blood loss, making the black hand tattoo that covered his face all the more vivid. Bandages covered several spots on his chest and a large padded bandage covered much of his right forearm. His eyes were closed, and his even breathing told Savlian that the assassin was likely sleeping. Savlian calmly pulled up a chair beside the bed and waited for Sethyas to awaken.

It took little more than an hour for Sethyas to stir. His ember eyes winced as he tried to sit up even further. It wasn’t until then that he noticed Savlian sitting beside him.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting that long,” Sethyas said, his raspy voice covering up the grogginess in his voice.

Savlian shook his head. “No, not long. I felt that you deserved some rest though. You’ve been looking like Guar dung as of late,” he replied with a dry smirk.

Sethyas frowned but said nothing. Savlian continued. “How are you feeling?”

Sethyas looked down and examined his body. “Just a lot of minor slashes, excluding the one on my arm. That one was deep,” he paused briefly, “Why don’t you give me some potions so I can get out of here?”

“Like I said, I feel like you deserve some rest. Potions will only make you feel that much weaker. Let yourself heal naturally for a bit. Regain your strength,” Savlian replied.

Sethyas’ frown increased. “I’m not going to sit here idly while he’s out there!” he said heatedly.

Savlian knew he wasn’t going to sway Sethyas mind so he conceded. “Fine, but for today you’re resting. You’ll get your potions tomorrow,” he said in an annoyed fashion. After Sethyas expression brightened Savlian continued, “So what happened?”

Sethyas struggled through his depiction of what happened. Savlian thought he explained well, giving a thorough description of the fight. It was unsettling hearing how drastically the tables had turned upon Sethyas.

“He was just toying with me after he stopped me from killing him. It was as if I was fighting someone completely different. Something changed in his eyes… in his movements. It caught me off guard,” Sethyas replied, a haunted look etched on his face, “He wasn’t even trying until I kicked him and then he just went nuts! Normally I know how to deal with those types, but I was just out of it. I could only react; only focus on defence rather than offence… I’d be a goner if your men didn’t show up.”

Savlian’s expression was grim. “Just be thankful that they did. Now you have the chance to redeem yourself,” he said with encouragement.

Sethyas cursed. “I should’ve known something suspicious was going to happen when I heard that noise!” he sighed, “I guess the lack of sleep has been affecting me…”

Savlian rose from his chair. “Then I’ll let you get some rest then. I’ll speak with you again tomorrow,” he said, bidding Sethyas goodbye.

A gnawing pit of doubt gripped at Savlian’s gut as he left the Infirmary. Sethyas’ description of the fight perturbed Savlian. Sethyas was the Grandmaster of the Morag Tong, and according to his statement, he was nearly killed by an assassin that previously was of a lower rank and retired. Sure, the lack of sleep Sethyas had could’ve affected the outcome of the fight, but Savlian thought Sethyas’ excuse was more of a cover up for Sethyas’ wounded ego. Still the fact that a great assassin was defeated so easily did not help Savlian’s confidence one bit.

But he was only defeated so easily after this supposed change happened… Before that, Sethyas had been doing fine, or so he said. Could this change only be triggered when Simion’s life was threatened? Perhaps Savlian could defeat Simion before this “change” happens.

Savlian shook his head. No, he couldn’t have changed; it just didn’t make sense. Sethyas must’ve just become overconfident and when Simion caught his second wind, he managed to mangle the bewildered assassin. That was the logical explanation. Sethyas was just being influenced by his partner’s ridiculous claim that Simion was possessed or something. In the heat of battle, one can see strange things that aren’t there, especially when there’s blood loss added into the mix. That had to be what affected Sethyas. If Savlian had seen it once, he had seen it plenty of times.

It just so happened that as Savlian left the Infirmary, he came face to face with the Khajiit assassin, Rah’mirr. They both nodded a greeting to each other but Savlian held the Khajiit before he entered the Infirmary.

“Might we speak for a brief moment?” Savlian inquired.

An inquisitive look crossed Rah’mirr’s face. “Sure, Rah’mirr will speak with you, Captain.”

“Good. What I want to talk about pertains to Sethyas. I –“ Savlian stopped short as Rah’mirr’s face suddenly turned from calm to alarmed. “Oh no! He’s fine, he only suffered some scratches. Sorry to frighten you like that,” he said quickly, attempting to ease the Khajiit’s mind.

Rah’mirr sighed in relief and his expression returned to the original calmness he displayed. “Go on then, Captain.”

Savlian took a moment to rethink on the phrasing of his question but quickly decided to be blunt. “I was just curious to know if Sethyas has a history of seeing things.”

“Seeing things?” Rah’mirr asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

Savlian shifted his weight of his feet in awkwardness. “You know, like he sees things that aren’t there or he misinterprets events,” Savlian elaborated.

“He is the Nerevarine, of course he can see things we can’t see,” Rah’mirr replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Nerevarine? What the heck is that?” Savlian asked.

Rah’mirr’s eyes widened. “You must forget what Rah’mirr told you. Rah’mirr has made a foolish mistake!” he said, scolding himself before entering the Infirmary in a hurried manner.

Savlian simply stood there and scratched his head. This is becoming more and more strange…

[Black Hand]

Nice Depiction there! The Nerevarine sees things we cant?....

[The Metal Mallet]

Well, he does see Azura, and haven't you written like doubled visions from the past and stuff like that before? You know, like the one he shares with Nerevar? I could be confusing that with Trey though...

[jack cloudy]

For someone living in a world with a mage guild and magical beasties running around in the countryside, Savlian seems rather unwilling to consider the influence of magicka when he's on a case. Still nice stuff though.

[Black Hand]

Well, he does see Azura, and haven't you written like doubled visions from the past and stuff like that before? You know, like the one he shares with Nerevar? I could be confusing that with Trey though...

oooohhh. Yes, yes I have....

[minque]

Well, he does see Azura, and haven't you written like doubled visions from the past and stuff like that before? You know, like the one he shares with Nerevar? I could be confusing that with Trey though...

Ahhh Mallie....great as always! And about seeing Azura...well I know one who sees her pretty often and that person isn´t even Nerevarine..

[mplantinga]

I just got caught up, and I've really enjoyed the things you did with the last few updates. I especially enjoyed Simion's fight with Sethyas. I wonder if the use of silverbrand will be required to defeat Simion? That would be an even more interesting battle, if both combatants are possessed during the fight. I guess I'll have to (try to) be patient and wait to find out.

[The Metal Mallet]

And we're back! Or should I say, I am back! Here's the long-awaited update to my story, enjoy it for what it's worth!


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As Savlian returned to the barracks, his thoughts kept going back to Rah’mirr’s odd comment about Sethyas being a “Nerevarine”. The fact that the Khajiit told him to forget about right after only furthered his curiosity. Obviously, this title held some importance, and Savlian wanted to find out what that exactly entailed. But the problem was how he was going to find this answer. All possible path eluded him.

Savlian did not want to Sethyas right out, mostly because he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the assassin should this title be something completely inane or trivial. He also was just speaking with Sethyas so it would be inconsiderate to the mer’s recovery to bother him about such a thing. No, Savlian would just have to find an alternative method.

During his trek back to the barracks, Savlian took a spur of the moment detour to the Count’s Castle. The dismissal from attending the meeting between Sethyas and the Count refreshed itself in Savlian’s mind and his curiosity was piqued once more.

Savlian casually knocked onto Ormellius’ door and the Count bade him to enter. Savlian opened the door and saw that Ormellius at his desk, his concentration set upon the documents that took up copious amounts of space on his desk.

“Sir, if I could just take your time for a second,” Savlian asked courteously.

“Ask away,” Ormellius replied, not even taking his eyes away from the document he was looking at.

“Have you ever heard of the term ‘Nerevarine’ before?”

Ormellius’ eyes lifted from the page and fixed Savlian with a sceptical and suspecting gaze. “Where did you hear that word?”

Savlian all ready knew the Count knew something as soon as he looked at him the way he did. “I heard it from the assassin, Rah’mirr. That’s what he called Sethyas, but he became very quiet about the subject as soon as I mentioned it to him. It’s unsettling.”

Ormellius paused momentarily, but then his eyes returned to the page he had been reading. “It’s nothing that concerns you,” Ormellius replied in a concluding tone.

Frustration attacked Savlian’s senses and he started to waver on his feet, his thoughts struggling between curiosity and obedience. Finally, he stood still. “Sir, I know you know something about this matter. I’d like to know what it is,” Savlian said with forced evenness.

Ormellius looked up from the page once again, only anger and annoyance were displayed in his eyes. “I thought I told you that this matter does not concern you,” he reiterated in an icy tone.

Savlian didn’t back down though. “If you expect me to co-operate with these assassins I need to know about this. I believe it’s connected to this case. This is why you excluded me from your conversation with Sethyas wasn’t it?” he shot back.

Ormellius shot up from his chair. “Yes! Our talk was about that, and among other things. I dismissed you because you didn’t need to be involved in our discussion. Now you keep that tone in check, Captain,” Ormellius warned the reddening Captain.

The Count didn’t intimidate Savlian; he had faced worse for several years with Vernon. “I don’t deserve having information like this withheld from me. It’s not fair,” Savlian said.

“Yes, and you’ve been completely honest with me,” Ormellius interjected sarcastically.

The commented silenced the Captain for a moment, casting his eyes downwards and to the side. “Be that as it may, I did tell you the truth in the end,” Savlian finally said, his voice hard.

“I appreciate that, but that was completely necessary. This on the other hand isn’t. Now, is there anything else we need to discuss because if not, I suggest that you take your leave,” Ormellius said as he returned to his seat.

Tight-lipped, Savlian hastily saluted his superior before vacating the room. Within, Savlian was fuming but to those around him, it only appeared that the Captain was simply sombre. It wasn’t until he was within the isolation provided by his office in the barracks that he unleashed his emotions.

Slamming his fists on his desk caused the objects on top of the desk to rattle. Savlian growling in frustration and pent up anger as he paced around his office. He wrung his hands through his hair and clenched his fists at his sides. How could this not be important! Savlian fumed, why couldn’t he just tell me?

Savlian couldn’t help but think that he had lost the Count’s trust in him that he was now paying for it. Perhaps that meant he would eventually be told what he wanted to know. Savlian sighed. No, Ormellius didn’t seem to be the type that did that. Ormellius seemed to stick to his original viewpoint, at least in matters like these. If he was going to get the answer, it would have to be another alternative method.

From within his desk, Savlian pulled out a bottle of brandy and a glass. The last time he drank, he ended up on the losing end of a Hlodir beating. Savlian scoffed. Well, now there was no more Hlodir to bother him. He popped the bottle open and poured himself a glass. Holding the amber substance before his eyes Savlian made a sombre toast before emptying the glass in one gulp.



Savlian awoke with the vile taste of bile in his mouth and a queasy stomach. The bottle of brandy resting on his desk was nearly three-quarters empty. Not bad for one who doesn’t drink all that often… Savlian briefly thought then winced as he realised that he was beginning to develop a headache. By listening to the noise of activity in the hallway, Savlian could tell the day was all ready well under way.

Savlian made his way to a convenient washbasin and splashed his face with cool water. Looking in the mirror, Savlian saw bloodshot eyes and a groggy mug staring back at him.

And I thought Sethyas looked bad…

The sudden thought reminded Savlian that the assassin was to be released today. Quickly Savlian attempted to make himself look presentable before making his way to the Infirmary.

Once there, he found that the assassin was all ready out of bed and dressed. It seemed like the rest had done wonders for Sethyas, as vigour seemed to have replaced the sagging in his face. The Grandmaster had shaved as well.

Sethyas smiled as he saw Savlian appeared. “Good morning, Captain. My! You look like you had a rough night,” he said, stifling a snicker.

Savlian glowered at first but eventually smiled. “Good to see that you recuperated well.”

Sethyas nodded. “Yes, I feel much better. My arm wound still gets sore from time to time though,” he replied, indicated the still bandaged arm.

“Sorry to hear that…” Savlian started then paused, “But can I ask you about something privately?”

Sethyas instantly transition from a light to a serious mood, picking up the hesitance of his company. “Sure,” he replied before leading the Captain to a secluded section of the Infirmary. Once there, Sethyas asked him what was going on.

“Well, I stumbled across a title I’ve heard about you. Have you ever been called “The Nerevarine”?” Savlian asked.

Sethyas studied Savlian for a few moments. Then he snickered, “It’s not often that someone asks me that and honestly not know what he or she are talking about.”

Savlian was surprised by Sethyas’ reaction. “So what does that title actually mean?”

Sethyas then went into a quick summary of how he was suspected by the Empire to be the one who was involved in a Dunmer prophecy. That he was the reincarnation of a long dead Dunmer General. He briefly told of the trials that he had to do in order to prove the prophecy was applicable to him. He also mentioned the purpose of the prophecy. The whole story left Savlian dumbfounded.

“To say the least, I’m known throughout the land. Though sometimes it’s only under the title of Nerevarine. Most people don’t know what I look like or my true name. Count Ormellius on the other hand did. He’s pretty bright for an Imperial,” Sethyas added with a smile.

“So that’s what your meeting was about right?” Savlian inquired.

“Yes, I also gave my account and what’s been going on,” Sethyas added.

Savlian frowned. “So he was checking if I was being truthful. He has lost trust in me,” he said bitterly.

Sethyas placed a hand on the shoulder of the Captain. “I’m sure he still trusts in your abilities, Savlian.”

“Well, he certainly will, once I put this situation with Simion to an end!” Savlian replied with conviction.

“I do hope Taris gets here soon then. He must have the answers we need,” Sethyas said, much to the chagrin of Savlian.

[Lord Revan]

Tension between Savlian and the Count. Sounds a lot like Karme, "what goes around comes around."
Certainly seems like the clock is ticking for Simion, not long before midnight!

[jack cloudy]

I was hoping that they'd become friends. Guess that isn't so easy. A Count has things to do, and I bet he's still busy cleaning the mess of his death brother.

[Black Hand]

Nice to see an update here, sorry that I've been lax in my participation in the forums. Work sucks, on a side note...

[canis216]

I've been lax myself... work is partly to blame, as is other writing (for class). I just haven't been in Morrowind-writing mode. But it's nice to see this story updated. As always, I'm eagerly awaiting whatever may come next.

[The Metal Mallet]

All righty! Our slight detour is at an end. Let's see how Taris is doing!

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A stiff sea breeze blew off of Taris’ face as he stood on the prow of Mercy’s Gift, a transport boat that ran from Ebonheart to Sadrith Mora. Zafirbel Bay was exceptionally beautiful this time of year, but Taris’ mind was preoccupied with more important things. His talk with Fast Eddie still ran through his head:

“That dagger, Taris, is bad news. Very bad news.”

Taris examined the fear-stricken Dunmer with concern on his face. “Take your time, Eddie.”

Fast Eddie got to his feet and attempted to compose himself. Running his fingers through his hair only made him look even more dishevelled than before. It took a few more moments of Eddie take deep breaths before he was finally able to talk.

“Silverbrand is definitely a weapon associated with Boethiah just like you surmised. My initial examination of the blade revealed a relatively strong fire enchantment, much like the one that the legendary katana, Goldbrand, possesses. But considering the concern you expressed about the weapon I decided to further delve into the enchantment on the blade,” Eddie stated in slew of words before his breath gave out.

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down Eddie, I need to follow along remember,” Taris instructed Fast Eddie.

Eddie nodded and took a deep slow breath. “As most native Dunmer know, Boethiah is a revered God around here, so any artefact blessed by Boethiah is equally as revered. It is also known that Boethiah has a lust of battle and of bloodshed, which is why tournaments and duels are held to celebrate and serve him. The lust of bloodshed is key here. Boethiah loves it, and by examining this blade, I found something.

“The enchantment on this blade reacts to the blood that’s spilt over it; in more ways than one. It’s as if the blade can judge a person by having their blood placed upon it. It’s like a trial by fire, if you survive the ordeal a “gift” is placed upon you, otherwise the blade kills you. This gift is basically a manifestation of Boethiah’s bloodlust, which is created by isolating sections of the user’s mind with like-minded ideals as Boethiah. It then basically creates a separate identity within the user and harbours itself there, choosing when to take control of the user basically at will.

“For some, this manifestation might only be inclined to get into fist fights all the time and satisfy itself with broken bones or a bloody face. But for others, let’s say those who are all ready murderers or killers, the manifestation is constantly hungering for bloodshed and death. That is why your father, and this assassin killed so many people, to appease the manifestation.”

Taris took the information in silence, processing all the information that was given to him. Something glaring came to mind though.

“Why were you about to kill yourself then?”

“Like I told you before, the blade judges you. It knew what I intended to do once I decided to use my blood on it. It didn’t want such information to be revealed so it sought to get rid of me. Fortunately you showed up. And I’m certain that it didn’t bestow its “gift” upon me if that concern comes upon you as well. I just can’t handle that blade anymore. Gods, I suggest that no one should handle,” Eddie answered as he paled once more as the event that could’ve happened resurfaced in his mind, “But if you do have to handle it, make sure you kill the person with it and make sure you don’t bleed on it. Your manifestation would be a bad one due to your profession,” Eddie answered.

“Is there any way to get rid of the manifestation?” Taris inquired, somewhat relieved that Eddie was going to be ok.

Eddie scratched his chin; his eyes had a look of contemplation upon them. “Possibly, I personally can’t try anything because of the current situation I placed upon myself. I do know someone you can trust who might be able to figure out a way.”



That person was where Taris was heading to now. Genille Aenagwen was a private enchanter in Sadrith Mora and a supposed friend of Eddie. The Telvanni allowed her to perform her practice within the city because she provided her services at discounted rates for House members. Taris silently hoped that she was everything that Eddie said.

Stepping off of the docks Taris approached the gateway entrance to Sadrith Mora. Staring up at the mushroom towers and homes Taris couldn’t help but think about how unique Vvardenfell was, and about how strange the Telvanni could be that they would think a giant, hollowed out mushroom would be ideal shape for a home.

Pushing the thought aside, Taris flashed his Hospitality Papers to the guard attending the gateway and was waved through. Taris had long since given up on the reasoning behind the papers that allowed him access to the city. If anything, it was just a scam for the Inn to make some extra money.

Taris made his way past the street vendors hawking their wares and proceeded past the Morag Tong Guildhall, placing him into the private business district of the town. Taris read the banner outside of one of the mushroom homes: Private Enchanter: Genille Aenagwen. Taris entered the home, bowing through the small door.

The home was relatively dark; the light source was a cool blue emanating from pods that grew out of the walls of the building. Genille, an Altmer, was sitting at a table, busily working on what looked like a robe. Taris cleared his throat.

“Yes, yes! Just get comfortable. Can’t you see I’m busy?” she said in an annoyed tone, her eyes not once looking over to see who her customer was.

Taris’ face tightened, but he didn’t say anything as he took a chair that was conveniently placed beside the exit. As he waited, Taris paid particular attention to Genille. As with most elves, it was difficult to determine exact age, but Taris felt confident that Genille was much older than he was. Taris thought he could see small wisps of grey in her auburn hair, yet her golden skinned face was not creased by time. Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she worked on the robe, which for the most part involved her going through shelves of soul gems, which sparkled against the blue light. Once she finally picked a soul gem, it didn’t take long for her to place the small stone onto the robe and cupping her hands over it. Genille closed her eyes and Taris could see her mouthing unheard words before a flash of purple burst through the cracks between her fingers and vanished. Taking her hands away, Taris could see that the gem no longer was there and that the robe now appeared to have a slight purple hue to it.

Shaking the robe, Genille examined the robe at an arm’s length. With a sound of satisfaction, she folded up the robe and placed it in a closet. Finally, she turned to Taris.
“What can I do for you, sera?”

“I have an object for you to look at. Fast Eddie said you could help me out,” Taris said as he began to rummage through his pack.

A warm smile crossed Genille’s face. “Oh! So you know Eddie! I hope he hasn’t been in any trouble lately. How’s he doing?” she asked.

“Well, he nearly killed himself when he was looking at this, but besides that he’s seemed to be doing fine,” Taris said, hoping to cut the small talk as soon as possible.

It seemed his comment worked as Genille’s face turned serious. “Well let’s see it then.”

Taris removed an object covered in cloth. He unfolded the cloth to reveal Silverbrand and a letter. “That letter is from Eddie. It contains his account of his discoveries; I strongly suggest you read that first,” Taris instructed.

Genille scanned through the note. Her expression changing from wonder, to shock, to horror at times. Finally she placed the note down, her face was paler than it was before and she kept casting glances at the blade resting on the table.

“Are you all right, Genille?” Taris asked.

“All right… No, I don’t think I am. You’re asking me to tinker around with an enchantment that could kill me!” she snapped.

“Oh… Well, if that’s the case I’ll just be on my way and find someone else to look at it,” Taris said, crestfallen.

“No! You can’t go. Eddie’s right about trusting me. Any other enchanter you go to with this will likely try to exploit a weapon like this. We can’t risk that,” Genille said in a rush.

“So you’ll look at it?” Taris asked.

Genille sighed. “Yes, I’ll look at it. I want you to come in each day though; I don’t want to end up killing myself either.”

[mplantinga]

Another excellent update. I'm really enjoying the story behind this complex enchantment. I do hope that Genille is able to determine a way to break the curse without suffering too much herself.

[Black Hand]

AWE-some!! Keep it up mally!!

[jack cloudy]

What the Hand said. Silverbrand just sounds scary though it also explains the Voice's nature.

[The Metal Mallet]

Wow, nearly a month since I last updated this. Sorry for the wait. Holidays and catching up certaintly takes away from my writing time unfortunately. Also, since I'm getting quite close to the epic conclusion of this story, I feel like I need to take my time with it in order to give it the justice it deserves. I don't want it to feel lackluster, so that might separation the frequency of my updates somewhat, but hopefully that won't be the case.

Well, enough of my prattling, here's today's update!



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As the days passed, Taris began to get more frustrated and anxious knowing that each day spent trying to break the enchantment on Silverbrand gave Simion more time to cause damage. For all he knew, Sethyas and the others could be dead, leaving him, a relative rookie, the job of finishing off Simion alone. Taris didn’t know if he could manage such a dire responsibility. Not without Sethyas there to encourage him.

Despite his anxiousness, Genille was firm about the fact that she had to take her time studying the weapon. Going too fast would likely end in tragedy, something she certainly wished to avoid and Taris was forced to comply with her wishes. He didn’t have to be happy about it though.

His time spent in Sadrith Mora had now fell into a routine based around Genille. Every morning, he would pop into Genille’s for an update on the situation. Following that, Taris would either browse the shops or taverns around town. He would eat all of his meals with Genille, which he thought was an effective way to make sure she didn’t harm herself. Not once did he stop by the Morag Tong Guildhouse. He wouldn’t be able to handle the questions about the current situation should he visit his Guildhall.

One particular afternoon, Taris decided to head to the beach coast to seek some change in scenery. Genille had said at lunch that she thought she was close to making a breakthrough in her studies but warned Taris to not get too optimistic. Perhaps his visit to the coast would help settle the rising anticipation.

A salty breeze gently blew around Taris as he stared off at the waves lightly lapping against the beach. Taris couldn’t help but wonder why life couldn’t be like the tides: constant, unyielding, and predictable. Things would be much simpler; not a complex mess like things currently appeared to be.

Yet Taris knew that life could never be like that. Sure, some things were fated to be, else why would the Gods exist? But outside divinity, life was unpredictable. Youngsters aspiring to be warriors and soldiers become bakers or politicians after receiving their first injury. The rich merchant suddenly goes bankrupt after a major investment collapses. Nothing in this world is easy and consistence. Else, everyone would survive life late into his or her lives. Life was meant to be hard and difficult to manage. People were meant to persevere through their obstacles and overcome their problems. That was what Taris decided to do.

Taris jumped as a hand lightly placed itself on his shoulder. Turning abruptly around, Taris found himself staring into the wide eyes of Genille.

Taris eased down. “Sorry Genille. One in my profession can get edgy when someone manages to sneak up on them,” he said apologetically.

Genille, no longer wide-eyed, answered back. “I didn’t intend to sneak up on you.”

Was I that lost in my thoughts? Taris thought. Sethyas would kill me for such folly… It seems that this mission has really done a number on me…

“Do not worry about it, Genille. I’ve been out of sorts lately due to all this Silverbrand business and whatnot,” Taris said tiredly as he ran his hands across his face.

“Well I have some good news for you then,” Genille said smiling, “I believe I’ve solved your problem.”

The exhaustion and apprehension immediately drained from Taris’ face. “You have? That’s great!” he said, elated.

Genille’s smile widened and she began to head back to town, beckoning the assassin to follow her. Taris readily complied with the Altmer, so eager was her to find out how to end this madness that had been plaguing Kvatch.

The two elves entered Genille’s shop and Taris saw that the blade had been left on the table. Genille pulled out a seat for herself and indicated that Taris should take one as well. The two took their seats and Genille pulled the blade closer to her; she fixed the blade with a calculating gaze.

“So… How do we get rid of the manifestation?” asked after a few moments. Genille had yet to start since it appeared that she was going over her thoughts.

Genille lifted her eyes from the blade to Taris. A hard, determined look greeted him. “This isn’t going to be easy, I’ll tell you that much,” she said sternly.

“Well I can’t give up now. I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” Taris said with conviction, returning the determined look to the enchanter.

Genille nodded. “Good. This is what I’ve figured out. The blade and its enchantment are key factors in getting rid of the manifestation within Simion. In order to destroy the manifestation, the blade must rejoin with the enchantment. In other words, Silverbrand has to be piercing the flesh of Simion, just coated in his blood is not enough given the circumstance that removing a manifestation is tougher then getting one. That’ll be the tough part. Once that is done, the enchantment stone must then be broken.”

“Enchantment stone?” Taris asked, completely ignorant of the term.

“Basically, an enchantment stone is the result of the reverse process of enchanting. The removal of an enchantment back into a soul gem. Thing is, the soul gem turns to stone and becomes useless. Only a few limited enchanters know how to even perform such a feat. Fortunately for you, Eddie knows the only enchanter capable of doing this on Vvardenfell,” she said grinning.

Taris looked around the shop. “So where’s the enchantment stone for Silverbrand?”

Genille’s expression turned serious once more. “I have yet to perform that feat. I need you here to look after me since I have no idea how the enchantment will react to me removing it. This is the other tough part,” she said with a grim smile.

Taris nodded. “I can do that.”

Genille took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She opened them and resolve replaced the worry she displayed earlier. “Time to get this over and done with then. I suggest you give me some room,” she said, nodding towards the chair by the exit, “Lock the door while you’re at it.”

Taris went and locked the door, all the while the tension seemed to build in the room. Finally, he had a goal to reach for. Yet, for it to even be considered, Genille needed to make this happen. There was nothing he could do for her but give her support and protection. Hopefully that would be all she needed.

“Good luck, Genille,” Taris said kindly.

Genille smiled to Taris before setting her intention the Silverbrand. She cupped her hands over the blade and closed her eyes in concentration. To her right rested a Grand Soul Gem, an object that could hold the mightiest and most powerful souls.

It didn’t much time before Taris could hear a faint hum originating from Genille’s hands. A dark red miasma began to seep from the cracks of her fingers. The hum began to rise in pitch and black flashes of anti-light began to complement the red miasma. Taris could then see that Genille was shaking in exertion, sweat was rapidly forming across her brow. Taris began to edge out of his seat, worried for the safety of the enchanter but almost instinctively, Genille shook her head. It was as if she was in tuned with her surroundings, yet she did not need to use her eyes to do so.

Taris felt relieved for a few minutes as he carefully watched the shaking Genille for signs of danger. It was then that he began to hear a searing sound rising above the hum. Genille’s hands were burning.

“Genille!” Taris cried, rising out of his chair.

The Altmer began to shake her head furiously, even though her face was contorted in pain. She still wanted to go on. Now the entire table was shaking and the black essence had completely taken over the red miasma and began to hover over Genille’s head. Taris stood conflicted between letting Genille have her way or ending the pain she was going through.

“Genille! Just hang on!” he urged, “I think you’ve almost got it!”

The black essence was slowly being sucked into the soul gem and as it did the extremity of the situation seemed to lessen. First the rumbling went away, and then Genille’s hands were no longer being burnt. Finally, the last cloud of the black essence seeped into the soul gem and instantly the crystal turned to stone. Genille collapsed against her table, her body shuddered as she tired to regain her breath.

Taris wrapped his arms around the Altmer and held her close. “You did it Genille! You made an enchantment stone!” he whispered into her ear.

“Could you… perhaps… see to my… hands please?” she managed to gasp out before she started struggling to chuckle.

Taris distanced the embrace. “Oh yes! Of course! Your hands,” he said dumbfounded before cursing his thoughtlessness.

Genille sat weakly in her chair as she watched Taris bustle around for an ointment or potion. “It’s all right Taris. I’m going to be ok.”

[jack cloudy]

Wow, that was great. I loved the Enchantment stone bussiness. Unexpected but well written. Now Taris has a weapon that can 'slay' the voice. The only remaining problem is actually sticking it into Simion without getting killed.

[The Metal Mallet]

Man, it feels like I'm getting close to ending this. You'll find out why when you finish reading this...

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


The hunt for Simion continued. Savlian, Sethyas, Ormeillus, and Rah’mirr have been combing the city for days and yet the assassin still eluded them. Fortunately, it seemed that the constant searching was keeping Simion locked up in his hideout as no attacks have happened since the altercation with Sethyas. Still, anxiousness and frustration weighed heavily on the searchers, knowing that Simion wouldn’t stay quiet forever.

Rah’mirr and Sethyas walked down the darkened alleyway silently, all their senses concentrated for any potential threats. Savlian and Sethyas decided that it was no longer even safe them to walk the streets alone. Two people had a distinct advantage than one.

“Haven’t we all ready checked these alleyways?” Rah’mirr growled bitterly.

Sethyas fixed him a hard look. “Yes, but knowing Simion, he could be constantly be circling around town trying to avoid us so we need to double back to make sure. Don’t let this search get to you,” Sethyas said, knowing his fellow assassin was starting to lose his patience.

A sour expression crossed the furry muzzle of Rah’mirr. “You’re right, Master. Rah’mirr just don’t like how quiet it has been.”

A flickering in the moonlight caught their attention. Instinctively, both assassins immediately headed to the rooftop of the building where the flickering appeared. Once they got up there, they found the rooftop empty. Sethyas bent down and peered at the ledge of the building.

“Someone was here,” he said quietly, pointing at a patterned of displaced sand and pebbles, “something brushed this debris from where it rested.”

No response from his companion alarmed Sethyas so he turned around quickly, his Daedric katana unsheathed. A short distance away from him, Rah’mirr was crumpled on the rooftop, gasping for breath. A blackened figure stood over him.

Sethyas shouted at Simion, drawing the Breton’s attention, and he began to charge at him. Rah’mirr suddenly lunged at Simion as well but Simion violently kicked him away before taking off into the night.

Sethyas stopped beside Rah’mirr, who urgently waved him on, telling him he would be fine. Sethyas then began to pursue the assassin into the night, leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

Secunda and Masser provided just enough light for Sethyas to make out Simion’s billowing cloak flapping ahead of him. Sethyas noticed that the Breton was consistently looking behind him to check on his pursuer.

Good, Sethyas thought, doing that will only cause him to worry and make a foolish mistake.

Suddenly, Simion dropped out of view. He had taken the pursuit back to the ground. Sethyas followed suit, dropping down to ground level by leaping onto a drainage pipe of an adjacent building. Upon landing, the sounds of shouting and clashing metal reached his ears. Simion must’ve run into some guards. Eagerly, Sethyas rushed towards the source of the fighting.

Rounding the bend, Sethyas saw that Simion was dealing with Savlian and two other Town Guardsmen. Simion was busy bobbing and weaving around the multiple swords swinging out at him. Suddenly, Simion kicked out at one of the guardsmen, sending the guard into the wall of the building. The guard’s head smacked the brick with a sickening crack and he was down.

“Help us out, Sethyas!” Savlian said in between swings. Sweat was all ready beading on his forehead as he concentrated on not getting killed.

Sethyas, quickly threw himself into the fray, but not until Simion disarmed the other guardsman and finished him off with his own sword. For some reason, Simion wasn’t armed until now. Simion made ready use of his new found weapon though, all ready matching the sword strokes with his two combatants. Sethyas knew this was the “second” version that caught him unexpected last time. That would change this time.

Amidst the three of them, steel twirled and twisted their dance of death. Even with the two-to-one advantage, Simion was unrelenting. Either he managed to parry both swords, or he would parry one and dodge the other. It was inhuman!

That’s because he is, a voice in the back of Sethyas’ mind said.

Both Savlian and Sethyas continued to press the attack, all the while Simion fixed them with a chaotic smirk as he avoided their attacks. It came as a shock to Sethyas when Simion cried out in pain and fell back away from the incoming blades. A throwing knife had planted itself into Simion’s shoulder and it obviously caused some discomfort. Sethyas looked back behind him and saw Rah’mirr. His back was hunched over yet he was on his feet, his one arm dangling uselessly to his side, another throwing dagger was held in his good arm.

Simion growled in pain as he ripped the dagger from his shoulder. The lapse in fighting allowed Rah’mirr to get closer and surround the cornered Breton.

“Put down the sword, Simion,” Savlian instructed, his chest heaving from the exertion of the battle.

Simion’s broadsword clattered to the ground, his other arm clutched the bleeding wound on his shoulder. His sickly smirk didn’t vanish though. His eyes were narrowed in a dangerous fashion. Sethyas felt uneasy. Something didn’t seem right.

Savlian pointed to the ground. “Face to the ground, Simion.”

Simion shook his head.

Savlian’s expression darkened. “You’re trapped, Simion. There’s no way out. Just get on the ground right now or else I’ll have an excuse for killing you right now!”

Simion’s smirk widened. “You couldn’t kill me if your life depended on it!” he said mockingly before breaking into a fit of twisted laughter.

The insult put Savlian over the edge. With a growl of rage, Savlian lunged at the assassin. Both men were taken to the ground and as Sethyas and Rah'mirr went in to help, a smokescreen went off, blanketing the entire area in smoke. Curses and more shouts sounded out in the haze and by the time it dissipated, only Savlian, Sethyas and Rah’mirr stood in the alleyway.

Savlian cursed loudly. “No! I can’t believe that just happened! This is ridiculous!”

Rah’mirr looked at the Captain of the Guard. “Maybe if you weren’t a fool and searched him before lunging on him like that, the situation could’ve been avoided!”

“Do not chastise me!”

“Rah’mirr does what he pleases!”

“Open your mouth one more time, Furball, and you’ll regret it!”

“Furball! Rah’mirr will –“

“Enough!” Sethyas shouted, glaring at the both of them. “Mistakes were made. Get over it. Just be glad he didn’t decide to kill us in that smokescreen instead of running away. Now we have the chance to give him some payback,” Sethyas said, indicating the blood trail leading off down the street.

“We follow this carefully enough, we’ll know where he’s staying and properly take him out. Now let’s go.”

“Hold on. Rah’mirr cannot go on. Rah’mirr thinks some of his ribs are broken in addition to his arm,” Rah’mirr muttered through clenched teeth.

“Then go on to the Infirmary, Savlian and I will continue on,” Sethyas instructed before leading the Captain of the Guard along the blood trail.

Rah’mirr watched them disappear out of view before setting off to the Infirmary. “Good luck,” he mumbled.



A robed Dunmer passed through the gates of Kvatch. Though tired from the constant travel, he still stood straight as he walked towards “The Flying Bosmer”. In his pack, a wrapped up dagger and what appeared to be a large stone were cradled within.

All I need to do is find Sethyas or Savlian and we can finally end this, Taris thought as the tavern came into view.

[jack cloudy]

Oh boy, things are heating up, big time. I see what you said. It definitely feels like the climax is near. I'm sure it will be a good one .