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 losses were greater than expected.

Savlian must really feel like a fool now. I bet he's all torn inside because he was too focussed on Hlodir to realize that Simion was out again.

And congratulations on the new thread! Few actually manage to do this, though there are notable exceptions. *cough*Trey*cough*

Whoa....nicely done. Savage in its descriptions, bold in its expressions.

SGM as I have recently adopted!

Seems like everyone wants to visit Simion now... Savlian, Morag Tong, Giant Duluth Beast, and who knows who else?

But what will The Voice have to say about it all?

Woo! First update on the new thread. I hope your all excited! Because I am! I figure that I'm likely not going to fill this thread up before we reach a conclusion. So expect one sometime in this thread! When that'll happen though, I'm not so sure. Anyways, here's the update:


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It didn’t take Savlian much time to get to Simion’s house. He decided to go alone and left the two guards who had taken him to Bernise’s. Savlian felt that this was something he had to deal with personally, and alone, less Simion felt like talking about something better left unsaid. Namely, the fact that Savlian had allowed him to get away with killing the Town Guardsmen just so that Vernon would die. While most would agree that getting rid of Vernon benefited the entire town, some would likely disapprove of Savlian’s methods and do something about it. No, this had to be dealt with. Quietly.

Savlian stepped up to Simion’s door and stared at the dark brown wood. The realisation that he was about to face a cold-blooded killer had now sunk in. Observing each successive crime, Savlian had noticed that each murder looked to be progressively more violent each time. It was as if Simion was enjoying his killing more and more. Obviously, Savlian had no way to control Simion. This was the only way he could end this threat without his deal with Simion being broadcasted.

Calmly he eased his broadsword in his sheath, making sure it wouldn’t catch should he have to withdraw it. He tested the doorknob and to his slight surprise it was unlocked. Silently, Savlian opened the door just enough for him to squeeze through before closing it once more.

Darkness greeted him as Savlian looked around the modestly furnished room; a lone chair was placed oddly in the centre of the room. The oppressing darkness also held an odd quality about it, since outside these walls the sun was shining brightly. The dark and heavy looking drapes thoroughly blocked out nearly all light, which made Savlian wait patiently for his night vision to sink in. Once his vision was somewhat restored, Savlian began to explore the house.

I’m playing right into his advantage, aren’t I? Savlian couldn’t help thinking about as look for signs of the assassin. For all he knew, Simion could be lurking up right behind him, dagger poised to sink into his throat. Savlian kept checking his back to make sure it was clear. This idea was getting worse and worse as he progressed slowly through the house, his senses straining to catch the slightest noise. If he had thought about it better, instead of having his guilt get the best of him, he would’ve tried to get Simion on his own terms. Now, he could be nothing more than a sitting duck.

“You’re not going to find him here.”

Savlian nearly jumped when he heard the raspy voice, but his instincts kicked in. He immediately turned to the direction of the voice, broadsword held tightly in his hand. He then noticed the mass of extra darkness placed upon the staircase; it seemed to get getting larger.

“Stay back!” Savlian warned, pointing his sword at the shadow.

The black mass stopped increasing in size. Instead, it moved to a desk and in moments an oil lamp was lit.

Savlian blinked from the sudden brightness and rubbed his eyes. Once he recovered he found out the black mass was a robed Dunmer. The black robe hid most of his physical features, but Savlian thought he looked somewhat lean. The Dunmer’s eyes glowed with a calculating look as he stood passively by the desk, the flickering light causing even more shadows to his all ready ash-coloured face. Savlian knew that what stood before him was an assassin.

“You’re looking for Simion correct?” the Dunmer inquired.

“Yes I am. I take it you’re with the Morag Tong?” Savlian responded.

A moment of surprise flashed across the Dunmer’s eyes before he cleared his voice. “Yes, my name is Taris and I serve Mephala faithfully. I was sent here to take care of Simion. Turns out he’s fled; I just finished searching the place when you arrived. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“Well the last time the Morag Tong sent a lone assassin to take out Simion, I found their body sprawled out on the streets,” Savlian said coldly, disappointment ringing in his voice as he sheathed his broadsword. Looking up, Savlian thought he saw movement from within Taris’ robes. Savlian thought it was likely a crossbow being put away.

“So you figured out Lavos was one of ours? I would’ve thought you’d think he was a Dark Brotherhood member,” Taris said mildly impressed.

“That I did, it took a little while though,” Savlian said, pausing momentarily before continuing, “I would’ve thought they would send more of you to deal with Simion if one failed.”

Taris smiled, and Savlian then saw that the Dunmer was quite young looking, there was youth in that smile. “Oh yes, there’s more of us this time. I… just wanted to try to get him on my own, though it was against my Master’s wishes. More than foolish of me, I know, but at the time I thought I could accomplish it. If Simion was here, it would’ve been more than likely that you would find my body sprawled against the floor.”

Savlian’s thoughts drifted to the Dunmer with the face tattoo inquiring about Lavos when Taris mentioned his master. The mer had definitely exuded some sort of presence when he had met him. It was very likely that he was one of the “others” Taris mentioned.

“Well, if he’s not here, I must go find him. It was certainly interesting to meet you, Taris,” Savlian said and began to head for the exit.

“Captain wait!” Taris called out, which left Savlian feeling a bit surprised. He didn’t introduce himself to the assassin.

“What is it? Do you know where Simion might’ve gone?” Savlian asked.

“No, it’s not about that. I want to tell you to stay out of this. Let the Morag Tong deal with this problem; we know what we’re facing here,” Taris said, his voice taking on a concerned edge.

“Yes, it seems that you’ve got the situation handled very well,” Savlian said sarcastically.

Anger crossed the ember eyes of Taris. “I haven’t seen you put him behind bars yet, so I wouldn’t carry on with such comments. Simion is an assassin, only other assassins will know how to deal with him, especially because he’s a skilled assassin. You’ll only get yourself killed if you continue to press him. He may have all ready decided that you’re the next victim, and if he has, you aren’t going to last long,” Taris said quietly yet with a dangerous tone placed upon his words.

Savlian stared directly into the smouldering eyes of Taris. “I’ve made some bad choices in my life, I know. But one choice that wasn’t a wrong one was becoming the Captain of the Town Guard. Since I’ve received the position, I’ve done everything possible to protect this city from the plague that was ruling it; I basically had my neck on the line, every single day, the constant reminder that a greedy, money hungering mongrel could simply say “Go kill Savlian” and it would happen. I managed to solve that issue and a new plague has arisen, one that’s killing the people I hold dear to me. Kvatch has a special place in my heart; I’m not going to watch her people suffer while some secretive assassins try to accomplish something they have previously failed at.”

“You see, I have yet to fail. I had to figure out who was behind these killings while your people knew who it was right from the get-go. We’ve been matching wits so far, as if this were some sort of twisted cat and mouse game. Well, if this is a game, I intend to not lose. If he wants to come at me next, I gratefully accept it, because that means the game will close, the winner will be determined. I will be ready for him!”

Savlian didn’t even care to see Taris’ belittled expression as he exited the house of Simion Mandrake.

Hmm... is Simion trying to flee from The Voice?

I'm sure the Morag Tong will be back in fuller force...

I'm convinced that Savlian will meet the MT again. He appears to be determined but I do hope that he keeps his guard up at all times. Simion can be a worse enemy than the count ever was.

Ohh, how could I have missed the update? Veerryy Nice Mallet, keep it up bro~!

The Bloodlust continues! Muahahaha!



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Stress and weariness racked Savlian’s senses as he made his way to the Count’s Castle. His altercation with the assassin Taris was still hot in his mind. Could they honestly believe that he would step aside and leave this chase alone? It was almost laughable! If anyone was going to defeat Simion, it would be him. Unlike what the assassins believed, he did know Simion’s personality; at least he thought he did. He thought his abilities in forming a criminal profile on a suspect were quite good. This was becoming more of a battle of wits rather than steel between Simion and Savlian, and wits was something Savlian didn’t lack. Sure, Simion had bested him during his first interrogation, but at that time, it was only suspicion rather than certainty that had led Savlian to interrogate Simion in the first place.

Savlian was still fuming when he entered the Count’s office. Ormellius was sitting at his desk, a significant bundle of parchment and paper cluttering it as he peered intently at one particular piece held in his hand. His eyes broke away from the parchment to view who had entered his office. Seeing it was Savlian, the eyes went back to the paper.

“These murder reports are upsetting me, Captain,” Ormellius said sternly, not looking up from the parchment he was reading, “From what I understand here, it seems that these murders are similar to the ones done against the Town Guard.”

Savlian stood rigidly, eyes fixed ahead of him. “That’s what’s suggested in the report, sir. To me, it seems that whoever is doing these murders though is a copycat, as the attacks are much more vicious in intention than the ones done against the Town Guard.”

“Maybe that is because the killer knew that these people could not fight back, unlike the guards,” Ormellius snapped back, setting down the parchment and rising from his seat.

Savlian couldn’t help be feel uncomfortable where he was standing. This was the first time he had seen the Count angry with him, at least, a Count who Savlian respected at least. It made the feeling all the much more worse because of that.

“That could certainly be the case, sir. I intend to get right on this. It shouldn’t be long until we get whoever this is,” Savlian replied as calmly as he could manage.

“This should’ve been dealt with long ago, Captain, even before we had to deal with Hlodir,” the Count stated with an authoritative tone, driving the message home. He turned his back to his Captain and with a wave of his hand he dismissed Savlian.




The situation was getting more hard pressing for Savlian as he paced about in his room, thinking about Simion and how to capture him. A barely touched meal was located off to the side; crime reports and hand written notes cluttered the surrounding area. Savlian slumped down into his bed; Savlian finally felt exhaustion from the battle, the journey home, and the stress that greeted him upon arrival.

As he rested there, he couldn’t help but think of Bernise and the horrible thing that was done to her. It was his fault she was dead. It was because he thought he could trust the word of a murderer that now Bernise was not going to tend to her garden anymore, nor enjoy the soon to be new and improved Kvatch. It devastating to think about that and yet Savlian couldn’t help it; the guilt was too strong. He finally fell asleep atop a wet pillow due to tears of frustration.




The sound of rubbing oiled leather spilt open Savlian’s eyes. An unknown dark mass hovered before Savlian; the glint of steel could be seen in what seemed to be the mass’ hand. Before Savlian could do anything, the mass jerked and fell back. Suddenly another black mass appeared in Savlian’s room. This one, held what appeared to be a short sword and purposefully moved towards the now retreating mass of the would be attacker.

Steel rang against steel as the two figures clashed with one another. By this time, Savlian was out of bed and had recovered his broadsword. The only problem was that he couldn’t tell which figure of the two struggling ones was the one who attacked him. The darkness didn’t allow Savlian to discern who was who. Instead, Savlian passively stood in the background and watched the two struggle with one another.

The battle didn’t last long. Their short blades allowed the two figures to fight at close quarters. The fluttering of robes, the clashing of steel, and the grunts of exertion were the only sounds issued from the combatants. The tables turned though when one of the figures surprised the other with a kick that sent him tumbling onto a table. Glass shattered and the one figure quickly disappeared into the night. Savlian watched the other figure rush over to the broken window. Savlian could see the moonlight the figure’s face, revealing the Dunmer named Sethyas. Looking out into the night, Sethyas cursed before turning back to Savlian.

Savlian managed to light an oil lamp, revealing the mayhem that had spawned within his room. Savlian could now see that Sethyas was still wearing his red robe. With one hand he was sheathing what looked to be a daedric katana and the other was rubbing his jaw, which was all ready bruising from the kick the attacker had planted there.

“What the hell are you doing here Sethyas?” Savlian asked, pointing his broadsword at the Dunmer.

“Saving your life it appears,” Sethyas replied a little heatedly.

“Sorry, Sethyas. Heat of the moment,” Savlian said apologetically, “I assume that was Simion?”

Sethyas looked back at the broken window briefly. “Yes, that was. As Taris had warned you, Simion was likely to kill you next, so I decided to keep an eye on you in hopes of intercepting Simion. I got what I wanted, but the results didn’t turn out how I wanted them to…”

Savlian’s eyes narrowed. “So you were treating me as if I were bait!? I think I deserve more than that!” he said incredulously.

Sethyas’ expression now softened. “I’m sorry, Savlian. While it certainly wasn’t the most ideal situation to put you in, I couldn’t let you know what I was doing. Simion would’ve smelled the trap before he even got close. Unfortunately, it turned out he caught onto it even when you didn’t know what was happening… Damn, he’s better than I thought.”

Savlian was still not that happy. “So first you tell me to leave Simion alone and let you guys deal with. Next, you set me up as bait! What are you going to do next? Strap me to the bed with a sign that says, “Kill me!” on it?”

“No, we wouldn’t do that. But remember this, Simion was coming after you anyway. If I weren’t here, you’d likely be a corpse now. If you’d let your anger dissipate, you’d see that,” Sethyas replied evenly.

Savlian sighed. “I guess that could be the case. I do appreciate the service you did for me a few moments ago, I would have rather known about it, that’s all,” Savlian said, visibly cooling down. “But if you think that this is going to stop me from continuing my hunt, you’re dead wrong, “Master Assassin”.”

Sethyas nodded. “Taris told me what you told him at Simion’s house. I guess we won’t try to dissuade you from catching Simion anymore. I wouldn’t trust us always being here should Simion try to attack you again though,” he added before climbing through the window. His head popped back into the window for a moment. “For now, I have some hunting to do.”

Savlian watched the head of Sethyas disappear into the night, he shivered as the chilly night seeped into the room. Looking around of the wreckage of his room, Savlian couldn’t help but think that he should move. Three attacks on him in his own home was more than enough reason.

Words of truth there, words of truth. Finding a different place to sleep is definitely a good idea.

I liked the conversation between Sethyas and Savlian. The conversation with the count was good as well. The murders have been going on quite a bit longer than they should have. Hmm, I wonder how Savlian continues?

Niiiiiiice! I like it, as Jackie said the conversation between Savlian and sethyas was wonderfully described! More please??!!

took me long enough to read the updates. I love the story MM. That 'dream'/out of body experience thing was creepy yet intriguing, and all the conversations were excellent. Congrats on making two threads and I can't wait for more.

ps, the conclusion better be good

What Savlian really needs is a good alarm system, with all kinds of fancy infrared beams and booby traps and all kinds of stuff. Or, he could just catch Simion. The infrared beams might be easier, though.

Man....I almost dont know who to root for....

May the best Assassin win! Hows that?

A black cloaked figured shuffled down the alleyway slowly. Not a single echoing footstep sounded, allowing the figure to appear like a shadow rather than human. The figure’s gloved hand clutched a forearm; blood glistened through the cracks between. Though the shadows covered most of the figure’s face, maddened and vivid blue eyes scanned the surrounding in a feverish nature. A dagger hung loosely in the hand of the figure’s damaged arm; a red stain crept along the side of it from the blood that managed to course down the figure’s arm.

Suddenly, the figure’s eyes focused on a ladder that ran up the side of alley wall. Carefully, the figure managed to climb up the ladder; eyes grimaced each time the injured arm had to be used. The ladder led to a niche in the building, basically a hole in the building that provided access to the unused attic. Inside, the body of what looked to be a homeless man was propped up against the wall of the far side of the attic. A pool of congealed blood coated the front of his shirt since his throat had been cut wide open.

A dim light was brought to life as the figure lit a small oil lamp. The figure carried the lamp over to a small chest, which rested opposite to a soiled straw mattress. The figure opened the chest and withdrew a vial. The contents of the vial were drained by the figure in one gulp and the figure’s eyes bulged as the healing effect of the potion went to work on the injured arm.

Simion gasped as he was able to resume control over himself from the shock of the healing potion. He looked down at his arm and found a small, pink scar peeking through the tear in his shirt. The scent of his own blood filled his nostrils with a rank sensation and his gloved hand was sticky with congealing blood. In disgust, Simion removed the stained clothing and tossed them beside the corpse.

Simion’s body looked almost ghostly pale in the lamp light. Wiry muscles, crafted from meticulous training in his profession, covered his torso, which also held more than a few scars. Simion wanted to keep all the scars he received so that he would never forget why or how he got them. As his habit would take it, he absently brushed the one above his right brow.

Maybe I’ll get this one taken care of. It’s not like I need a reminder of it anymore, he thought. He then smirked as images of Vernon being strapped to his bed as he applied his technique flashed in his head. On second thought, I don’t mind keeping it.

In another small chest, Simion withdrew a simple brown shirt and threw it on. He looked around the room. Excluding the corpse sitting in the corner, the attic wasn’t a terrible hideout place. He had discovered this place when he was a child. After class, he had time to roam around the city before getting home. It was during one of these roaming adventures that he found a ladder that appeared to have lead no where. Curious, he had climbed up the ladder to find a small opening in the wall. What he found was the only entrance to the attic of the building the ladder was found on. It seemed as though the owner had forgotten about it, so Simion had decided to make it his own little hideout. His secret place.

He had been surprised to find the attic occupied when he had fled his home. Unfortunately for the man who had decided to make the hideout his home, Simion had arrived at night and caught the man sleeping. Simion gave him what he hoped was a painless death. He couldn’t risk the thought of letting him go free only to help Savlian or the Morag Tong.

A whiff of the air told Simion that the body was starting to rot and Simion scolded himself for slitting the man’s throat instead of breaking his neck. It would’ve been much cleaner and likely harder to connect the crime to Simion should he had disposed of the body. He’d soon have to remove it; or else the stench would become a beacon just asking for attention.

He sat upon the straw mattress and looked across the room at the corpse. He couldn’t help but think that if he was going to die, he wouldn’t likely receive the blessing of a painless or quick death. Whoever was going to kill him will make him suffer. Did he actually deserve such a fate though? For those he killed during his involvement with the Morag Tong he was safe from legal persecution. But of those he’s been killing lately, the wrath of the law could easily fall upon him. It would be for those that he’d hang or be placed on the wrong of a blade.

I do deserve to die. I have become a monster and yet I’m too cowardly to accept my deserved fate, Simion thought bitterly.

“Don’t carry on about that! You’ll make me sick!” the Voice rumbled within Simion’s head, the shock causing Simion to wince in pain, “Besides, we still have unfinished business… The Grandmaster will pay with interfering! I’ll be ready for him next time!”

Despair gripped Simion as he fell back onto the mattress. “No! I can’t do this anymore!” he said in desperation.

The Voice cackled. “You’re breaking down. You’ve become weak since we killed that woman.”

Simion rose quickly from the mattress, his face contorted in rage. “No! I did no such thing. You killed her!”

“You were there. It was your body that did it. Everyone who knows about the murder knows YOU did it. Why fight it?” the Voice stated. Simion could practically see the smirk on its unidentifiable face.

“I will tell them you did it. That I was possessed,” Simion said defiantly.

“Ha! They’ll think you’re crazy. You do know what they do to the crazy criminals, don’t you? They try to fix them and it doesn’t often work,” the Voice said before breaking into a fit of laughter.

“Enough! Let me rest,” Simion said weakly, defeated.




Sethyas was still nursing his jaw, as well as a glass of brandy, as he sat in “The Flying Bosmer” awaiting the arrival of his colleagues. His encounter with Simion in battle was a shocking one. Even when he surprised the assassin, his sneak attack was detected at the last minute and Simion saved himself. During the head on battle, Simion had fought with a viciousness that was borderline chaotic, yet with enough technique to make the combination quite lethal. He was caught unexpected by the kick though, something that didn’t happen often.

“I guess I’ve become a little rusty,” Sethyas mused aloud.

“You? Rusty? Never!” Taris said, pulling up a seat beside Sethyas. Taris whistled when he saw the bruise forming on Sethyas’ jaw, “That looks like quite the wallop there.”

Sethyas couldn’t help but chuckle at Taris’ comment. He and Taris had been working together long enough to develop a friendship of sorts. Enough that Taris could say things that if another assassin of a lower rank were to say, Sethyas would have to have a talk with them.

“I take it the plan didn’t go as well as we hoped?” Taris speculated as he took a more serious tone.

Sethyas shook his head. “No. It didn’t turn out how I wanted it to. He managed to catch me and if he didn’t decide to escape, I could be dead now.”

Taris nodded. “Well, he made a mistake there, Sethyas. We’ll be even more prepared next time,” he said in encouragement.

Rah’mirr, the Khajiit, and the other two Dunmer were now at the table as well. Each of their expression was grim when they saw that Sethyas did not have a successful report.

“I believe I did injure him, that could’ve been another reason why he left. Now I’m sure that I’ll be a target now, which is both good and bad. What I suggest we do is watch each other’s backs. Simion, and I stress this, cannot be underestimated,” Sethyas said.

Those around him nodded in understanding and Sethyas continued. “We’re also giving up on our stakeout of the Captain. We’re to leave him alone, and hopefully, he’ll leave us be. He’ll have to defend himself should Simion find him again.”

“Rah’mirr thinks that’s a bad idea. We know Simion wants Guard Captain dead, so why not lie in wait while our prey attempts to take the bait?”

Sethyas sighed. “Because, Savlian is a man and not bait. I have warned him that we will not be there to help him should Simion come after him. He has accepted that fact. I am honour bound to accept his wishes. But should our paths cross unknowingly, that is a different situation.”

Rah’mirr nodded, convinced that was how it should be. “What shall we do now then?”

“Find Simion’s hiding spot. I suggest the alleyways.”

Excellant update MM, I foresee a collision course between all three parties: Town Guard, Morag Tong, and Rogue Assassin. I've never been able to harness the full potential of the post machine!

It does make you think there will be a slash between all of the parties involved.

Very good update MM, i'm loving this story

The meeting of the assassins. Oh, boy. And Simion is squeezing his nose shut with his fingers. I need to find something with which I can make you continue. I know, how about an Agent update? Take the bribe, take it. It works like a charm in Tamriel.

Oh jeeze man this series is fantastic! I've only recently joined these forums and have just sat down and read your entire set of stories. Love the characters, Simion is really interesting and I kinda feel sorry for the poor guy. I'll be interested to see if the voice in his head really is some type of possession or if he is just a loon. Out of curiousity, is the series set close to the attack on Kavatch in Oblivion. I expected the corrupt count to have got finished of by the daedra but apparently not. It would be a pity if this new guy became count only to get killed immediatly.

Anyhow keep up the good work, I'm really enjoy everything!

Well, to answer your question Malpense, this story does in fact take place fairly shortly before the Oblivion Crisis. In fact, if you pay careful attention to some of the characters you meet in Kvatch during the crisis, you actually meet Savlian and the Count (sorta). So yea, I kinda "borrowed" their names for the sake of staying true to the lore.

What I probably intend to do once Bloodlust is finish is write the sequel to this, which obviously involves the events of the Oblivion Crisis. Fortunately, in the game they show basically the aftermath of the situation, so I can still be quite creative with what I want to do.

I'd also liked to add that I've finally made up my mind about Simion that will definitely affect the ending of the story, and it pertains to your thoughts about his mentality. Of course, I'm going to leave it at that because who would want a spoiler? I'll just annoy those with teasers instead!

Anyways, thank's for giving my story a shot. The more readers I get, the more happier I am! Now you're stuck waiting for updates like the rest of these guys!

PS- Oh yes I forgot! I might have some time this week pull a Black Hand and go post machine on you guys! You see, it's exams week and I've finished the only one I have, so that means I have no school till Thursday. In other words, I'll have a lot of free time on my hands. But don't get your hopes up. Who knows, I might get sick. Or really lazy!

: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!

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!

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

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

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

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*

*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?

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!



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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.

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.

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

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.

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!

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 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.

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!

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.

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

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.

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!

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.

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

Self-mutilation to please a Daedra? Really, if it wasn't for the fact that the Daedra can be pretty tough customers, I would say that this goes a bit too far. Ah well, the plot gets even thicker than before so I'm pleased. Yes, very pleased.

Going too far? I must disagree with the gentleman from Cloudydania! Boethia really seems to get off from the suffering of people...come to think of it....MOST of the Daedra Princes do!

Oh yes, and I am pleased as well! Do keep it up Mallet!

Well I decided to take another creative interpretation of a familiar Morrowind character (well, familiar for you Telvanni fans) for the sake of my story. Though I think it still fits, I guess I'll see how you're opinions go with it. On with the story!



---------------------------
The annoying squawk of a cliffracer reminded Taris of some of the things he was glad he didn’t have to experience during his absence from Vvardenfell. Still, the pests of the sky were in the distance and Taris thought they would not be prone to attack him, especially since the ramparts of Moonmoth Legion Fort rested just on the other side of the foyoda. The Imperial Legion fort was not Taris’ destined location though, it was the nearby town of Balmora that Taris sought to enter. For it was there that he hoped to find someone to examine Silverbrand, and hopefully discern its properties.

The dagger was carefully sheathed upon his belt, hidden from view. He did not want any thieves attempting to pluck the valuable weapon from him before he found out all that he could about it. Taris was certain that by knowing how the dagger works, he’d be able to defeat Simion with the gathered information. Taris knew this was the only object that connected his father with Simion, this had to be what he was looking for! There was nothing trivial about this!

As he passed the fortress, which was cradled by the mountains separating the West Gash area from the Ascadian Isles region of Vvardenfell, he could see the shimmering reflection of the Odai River. In the distance he could see the palisade walls of Balmora, and the distant moaning of a Silt Strider.

Balmora was almost a third home to Taris, only precedent after his villa and the Guild Headquarters. His father had to travel to Balmora often to attend to House business and he would often bring Taris along with him. Taris would spend his time at the Council Hall, or simply roaming the city, studying its every intricacy. Over the years Taris had grown quite familiar with the layout of the city. He knew that the Thieves Guild ran the South Wall Cornerclub while the Commona Tong had been firmly established at the Council Club. An unknown assailant, thought to have been working out of interest of the Legion, had unceremoniously slaughtered the Commona Tong members. He also knew of the enchanters who held their practice in the city.

Taris knew that there were at least three enchanters in Balmora, the two obvious ones were the ones appointed to the Temple and the Mages Guild. The third though, Taris thought not too many people knew about. It was this enchanter that Taris hoped to see, though there was the possible chance that the Dunmer skipped town a wile ago.

Taris entered the familiar sight of the market square, his plain cloak wrapped around himself to conceal anything underneath it. Even though Guild duties had kept him away from Balmora for an extensive amount of time, the place still looked unchanged. He didn’t bask in the sight for long though, he had duties to accomplish. He walked behind the Mages Guild and arrived at the Odai, the river splitting the town in two. He kept on the same side of the river, heading for a collection of two story apartment homes instead of crossing over to the housing division of town. At the last house, Taris walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.

The distinctive rustling of someone moving within brought a slight smile to Taris’ face. He was still in town, which meant that the Telvanni had yet to bother him again.

The door creaked open and a suspicious Dunmer face peeked through the other side. As recognition registered, the Dunmer’s eyes widen and he threw open the door. “Taris, my friend! Come on in, and don’t mind the mess,” the enchanter said, ushering the assassin in with eager joy.

Taris carefully stepped over the junk littering the floor of “Fast Eddie’s “ apartment. Eddie was a former agent of the Telvanni until a slight with the wrong person left him banished from Telvanni-controlled cities like Sadrith Mora, and Tel Mora. Eddie had decided to reside in Balmora privately, but he still kept up the telltale Telvanni paranoia of expecting to be killed anytime. To say he was a little odd would be an understatement.

“So, sera, can I get you anything? Scrib jelly on bread? Some scuttle?” Eddie replied in his quick, raspy voice as he rummaged through his pantry.

“No thanks, Eddie, I actually want you to look at something for me,” Taris replied, getting straight to the point. He didn’t have the time for pleasantries.

Eddie caught onto Taris’ serious tone and his happy mood dampened to one that matched the situation. He pulled up a seat across from Taris and fixed him with an attentive stare. “Well, what is it?”

Taris reached into his cloak and removed the dagger, placing it on the table to his right. “I need to know anything to everything about this dagger. It’s called Silverbrand and I believe it’s related to the Daedric Lord Boethiah, I also think it connects with a current problem my Guild is facing,” Taris said plainly, not seeking to embellish anything.

Eddie studied the dagger from afar; his eyes fixed intently on the weapon. “I can hear its power ringing even from here,” he muttered as if he was talking to himself. He turned his attention back to Taris. “I’ll need time to study this, if indeed you say this is a weapon blessed by the Daedra. Come back in 24 hours and I’ll tell you what I’ve discovered.”

Taris rose from his seat, satisfied for now. A day wasn’t that big of a deal if progress was being made. As he approached the door he turned back around. “I’m sorry that we don’t have time to actually talk, but once this is over I’ll do my best to pay you a visit.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure we will. Now leave me to my studying,” Eddie said in an annoyed tone, his eyes still fixed on the dagger and his hand waving in a “shooshing” motion.

A slight grin on his face, Taris closed the door.




Taris had spent the night at the Balmora chapter Guildhall. Free rooming and food was something one couldn’t just pass up. After that, he spent the morning walking around town. Reintroducing himself was what he felt like he was doing. In the afternoon he would stop by Eddie’s place.

When he knocked on the enchanter’s door, he was surprised to not get any answer. He knocked again and still no answer. Worry crept through him once again. He silently hoped that Eddie was just so focused in his studying that he couldn’t hear the knocking.

He tried the door and to his dismay he found it locked. Something wasn’t right. Eddie wouldn’t have his door locked at this time of the day. Cautiously, Taris scanned his surroundings for signs of guards. Feeling that he wasn’t being watched, he casually took out a lockpick and carefully went to picking the lock while trying to look inconspicuous. After several stressful moments, the door lock opened with a satisfied click. Taris eased the door open and went inside.

The sight that greeted him briefly stunned Taris. Eddie stood at the back of his home. His whole body was tense and rigid, and his eyes were glazed over in a trance-like state. Within his hand was Silverbrand, poised to strike directly into the mer’s heart.

Panic raced through Taris as he lunged across the room towards the enchanter. Before Eddie could plunge the dagger into himself, Taris crashed heavily with the Dunmer, taking them both to the ground. Silverbrand clattered to the floor beside him.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” Taris shouted at the dazed Eddie.

The glazed looked vanished from Eddie’s eyes as he looked around frightfully. His eyes finally made contact with Taris’ and he visually relaxed, sighing in relief. “Praise Azura you came!”

“What the hell were you doing!?” Taris said, deciding to reiterate his question.

Eddie blanched. “It wasn’t me doing it, Taris. It was the dagger,” he said nervously, casting his eyes towards the fallen dagger. His eyes returned back to Taris and Taris could see the fear plain and clear on the Dunmer’s face.

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

Dun-dun-dun!

Very interesting indeed... I wonder how bad the news is?

Hmm. A 'Daedric' dagger so to speak....maye there is an evil Daedric Spirit inside it?

That dagger is scaring me. Nice use of Eddie though.

EEEk! Hah! Nice interpretation of Fast Eddie....and the story is heading on just excellent. This dagger interests me, a dagger that wants to kill it´s bearer? I do agree wth Eddie....."That dagger surely is bad news!"

And now, to deviate a little! Hehehe!



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Savlian’s frustrations were growing as the search for Simion continued. Simion had virtually become the needle hiding in the haystack that was Kvatch. Only this needle’s point was more than just pointy, it was deadly. It doesn’t simply want to wait to be found either, it wants to kill its searchers, and to end all attempts to be captured.

Taris had left days ago, off to search for clues to his radical claim. Savlian had then released Rah’mirr and instructed him and Sethyas to remain searching. What he didn’t tell them was that he now had people watching their movements; he wasn’t going to let them go unnoticed anymore. They seemed to make a habit out of getting themselves killed, and Savlian could do with fewer corpses on his conscience. He hoped they wouldn’t take his actions the wrong way.

Savlian was scanning a map of the downtown section of Kvatch when someone knocked on his office door. Without taking his eyes off the map, Savlian called whomever it was inside.

“Yes, what is it?” he asked in an annoyed tone.

A clearing of the throat caught Savlian’s attention, ripping his eyes away from the map. Upon seeing who it was, Savlian grimaced.

“Sorry, Ormeillus, sir. I should’ve seen who it was before speaking like that,” Savlian said apologetically to the Count of Kvatch.

The Count wore a hard smile. “You’re forgiven, as I see you’re hard at work on something.”

“That I am, that I am…” Savlian sighed, slumping into his chair.

Ormeillus approached Savlian’s desk and peered at the maps and reports that littered the desk.

“Would all of this happen to be about a report I recently received about two bodies found in the alleyways? Supposedly, two men, drenched in blood were taken in, but you released them,” Ormeillus inquired, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Somewhat,” Savlian answered hesitantly.

Ormeillus leaned in towards Savlian, so that he was eye level with the sitting Captain. “I would like to know why you released them,” he said levelly, yet in an authoritative manner.

Savlian tried to look back into the intense eyes of the Ormeillus, but he faltered. He couldn’t lie to the man anymore. “Because I had met those two men before.”

Ormeillus’ eyebrows raised slightly, the only indication that he was surprised. “And how do you know these two men?” he asked, furthering the investigation.

“We all share the same interest in finding the person responsible for all these murders, sir,” Savlian answered, visibly shrinking before the towering Count.

“You’ve told me before that these recent murders were committed by someone else though,” Ormeillus stated, his eyes taking a hard, darkened tone.

Savlian swallowed deeply. If he admitted to his lie, how would the Count react? Would he be arrested and reprimanded? Would he be forgiven? Or would Ormeillus be angry that Savlian had let him kill Vernon? Fearing that lying would only make things worse, Savlian decided that the truth had to do.

“Sir, I have been misleading you. Ever since your brother was murdered, I knew who was behind it,” he began and then proceeded to speak of his deal with Simion, and the odd alliance with the Morag Tong assassins.

After Savlian’s speech, Ormeillus was left speechless, a blank look upon his face. The Count finally took a seat on the opposite side of the desk, and simply stared off in no particular direction. The silence of the moment was beginning to become unbearable for Savlian.

“I did what I had to for Kvatch. I will always put it before anything else,” he said with conviction, his eyes shining in the lamplight.

“Yes, I can see from your point of view. Your love for this town is truly one of a kind. I just wished you would’ve simply let Simion kill Vernon then arrested him. That way, we wouldn’t be in the present mess we’re in,” the Count said, his reverie broken.

“Am I to face any punishment?” Savlian asked. Though he feared what the punishment might be, he would accept his fate.

“I only wish for you to continue your search for this madman,” he said to the relieved Savlian, “I didn’t care much for my brother; he was the odd one of our family. While I did know of his… activities in Kvatch, I could do nothing. The Emperor would not allow cities fighting amongst themselves within his capitol province.”

“That is understandable, sir. I’m glad you’re willing to see things my way,” Savlian said.

“Even though I can, that doesn’t mean I’m not disappointed in you. I suggest you don’t keep things from me again. For the next time, I might not see things your way,” Ormeillus said, the threat evidence in his voice.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Savlian said humbly.

Ormeillus then rose from his chair and stretched. “It is late. I suggest you go get some rest. We’ll start the hunt once more tomorrow,” Ormeillus said and stopped before exiting the office, “Oh yes, I’d also like to meet this Sethyas Velas.”

Savlian nodded as the Count exited his office. Once more he sighed in relief, happy with the fact that you wouldn’t be incriminated for the offence he had done. He also began to wonder whether how thrilled Sethyas was going to be when Savlian would tell him he was going to meet Ormeillus.

He could guess that he wasn’t going to be that thrilled. Far from it actually.

You cruel, cruel man! Taking away from the Taris' discovery!! Good scenery switch there! Keep it up I say!

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.