Well, you desided to waste your time on my fan fic so i desided i could spend some time reading yours.

And i can say this... you story is excelent, please keep up the good work. and yes, Vengeance is a good topic i'm just happy i took it before you did

ps... i got first page 6 post

I've always planned to call this Bloodlust anyways The reason is fairly evident I hope... But thanks for joining the Metal Mallet Train, Soulseeker! All aboard! So I think I'll continue with a partial post, I wanted to get down this whole part but I should really start some of my chemistry work. If I don't get lazy I'll finish this update within the next couple of days. Here it is!


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After a few hours rest, Savlian headed for the Mandrake residence. He brought along two other guards to provide a proper escort for Simion, and to deter any violence that could possibly happen. Guilty men generally didn’t feel like going down to the barracks for questioning.

Despite the rest, Savlian still felt uneasy about the matter. It was as if something felt misplaced. Maybe it was because he feared that he was going to have to trade blades with someone who could kill a magnificent swordsman like Henrik. Savlian hoped that was the case, but realising it didn’t seem to push the uneasiness away.

Before he knew it, Savlian and the guards stood outside Simion Mandrake’s home. The late afternoon sun warmed Savlian’s back, but he still shivered. The placed simply looked uninviting. No windows were open, all with dark drapes covering anything that could be seen from the inside. Even the solid wood door looked ominous. Invited or not, Savlian still planned to see whomever was inside.

Savlian strode up to the door and knocked on it solidly, a hallow thud accenting each knock. Moments later, the sound of a latch being removed reached Savlian’s ears and slowly the heavy door creaked open and the face of a Breton peered out at him. A calculating look crossed across his steel blue eyes before he began to speak.

“What can I do for you officers?” he asked quietly.

“That’s Captain for me,” Savlian said sternly, “Are you Simion Mandrake?”

“Yes, I certainly am,” he said non-hesitantly.

“We need you to come with us to the barracks. We need to have a talk,” Savlian said, motioning for Simion to come outside.

Simion hesitated for a moment before saying, “All right, but why do you need to talk with me?”

Savlian sensed that Simion might be playing the stupid card, but he couldn’t tell. The Breton did sound genuine in his question. He pulled out the wanted poster and showed it to Simion.

“We want to talk with you because you match this description.”

Simion visibly paled at the sight of the poster. “I see…” he managed to force out and stepped out of the doorway.

Savlian began to walk away with Simion following behind him. The two guards brought up the rear placed left and right to Simion. He wouldn’t be able to flee if he tried. At least Savlian felt that way.

Savlian’s first impressions of Simion were mixed. Simion possessed the leanness of an assassin, yet he look almost scrawny as there was no visible muscle on him. What did offset that particular discrepancy were Simion’s eyes. Whenever Savlian glanced back and met Simion’s eyes, he noticed the vast amount of intelligence within them. There was always that calculating look to them. It was this intelligence that made Savlian wary for the entire walk back to the barracks.

Upon arriving at the barracks, Savlian immediately led Simion into a more modest interrogation room than the one he used for Barlok. Since Savlian couldn’t just assume Simion was behind this, he had to place him in a common room. If the room was anything worse than this, Simion could complain about being wrongfully mistreated and anything he said would be void. Savlian desperately needed this to lead him somewhere; he couldn’t afford a void interrogation.

Savlian sat down on the chair on the opposite side of the table from Simion, who was sitting comfortable in his chair. Savlian clasped his hand together and rested them on the table, fixing Simion with a gaze.

“Have you seen these posters around town?” Savlian asked his first question.

“No, sorry I haven’t. I don’t leave my home very often,” Simion replied calmly.

Savlian picked up the poster and examined it closely. “Well for not leaving your home very often it seems that someone was able to describe you quite well. They described your scar perfectly and the shape of the face is nearly spot-on,” he pointed out.

“Just because I said I don’t leave often doesn’t mean that people don’t see me. This scar does draw attention…” Simion trailed off.

First Reply! Excellent Alternate viewpoints going on here MM. I wonder what Simion is thinking, probably how he's going to hack Savlian into a million little pieces.

Ah, a battle of wits and the tongue. Not as sharp as a good sword but just as deadly. Continue, please.

very nice MM, i can't wait for more of the interigation... I should get back to mine....

“Well it certainly seems that it draws unwanted attention if you’re being fingered for something as serious as this,” Savlian continued.

“That seems to be the case,” Simion agreed, maintaining eye contact with the Captain.

Savlian paused momentarily, reclining back into his chair and returning forward again before continuing. “You’re known to be a recluse. Care to tell us why?”

“I’m still trying to get used to being back in Kvatch. You probably know that I left town for a long time,” Simion answered, looking for confirmation. Savlian nodded so Simion continued. “I had a lot of feelings to sort out and I decided I didn’t want to be bothered by anyone while I did that. It’s been taking longer than I expected,” he said sadly.

“Why would you even come back here?” Savlian asked incredulously, “I’ve heard the rumours and you being back here just doesn’t make sense.”

Simion turned his face away from Savlian, a distant look to his eyes. “It is true that I was basically abandoned by my folks. They just simply disappeared,” Simion said, a look of pain and anger melding on his face. “I came back because it is my home, not theirs. It’s just that coming back has brought back the feelings of that day that I found myself abandoned. I am simply trying to overcome that feeling through perseverance. In time, I’ll open up to those surrounding me.”

“Can you think of any reason why your parents abandoned you?” Savlian asked, aware of the feeling within himself that told him something wasn’t registering right.

Simion faced Savlian once more, his visage red from wearing his emotions on his sleeve. “No. I have yet to figure out a reason. All my time spent with them I thought I was feeling their love. It must’ve been a charade, since they decided to leave me,” Simion said, his voice cracking with emotion.

Savlian dismissed the subject and continued on. “Around what time are you usually outside?”

“If I do go outside it’s generally after the sun goes down,” Simion replied, still trying to pull himself back together.

“That’s an odd time to go out,” Savlian commented.

“It’s so I don’t have to talk to people. I need those walks just so I can get out of that house and some air,” came Simion’s reply.

“Well I just happened to receive a report that you were spotted removing a body out of your home in the middle of the night. What have you to say about that?” Savlian asked, emphasising the challenge.

“Whoever reported that to you must’ve been mistaken. It’s understandable when it’s late at night to see things that aren’t really there. I was probably taking my laundry to the creek to clean them,” Simion replied, remaining composed.

Savlian felt sceptical about that defence, yet all he had was the word of one person and no hard evidence. It almost seemed a fluke that the creek was in the direction of the downtown area where the body of the Dunmer was found. Unfortunately, the argument about the darkness distorting Bernise’s vision would work quite well.

It also bothered him that Simion was unresponsive to his questions. Other than the obvious reaction to his parents’ abandonment of him, Simion had answered all his questions calmly, never once expressing outrage or guilt. It was like reading a completely empty book, and it frustrated him like nothing had ever before.

Only one more question came to Savlian’s mind. “How do you feel about the homeless?”

Simion did a double take before answering. “Well, I feel sorry about them. I know what they go through. When I left here… I didn’t have the appropriate funds to sustain a permanent or even daily lodging. Fortunately, an understanding group were able to take me in and I was able to get back onto my feet.”

The answer to his question brought to mind another important question to Savlian. He nearly expressed his embarrassment openly but maintained composure. “This “understanding group” you’re talking about, it wouldn’t happen to be the Morag Tong would it?”

“No, of course not. It was a sect of the Imperial Cult actually,” Simion said resolutely.

“Oh sorry. It’s just that I’m thinking off the top of my head you see. Thing is, we just recently found the body of a Dunmer bearing a Black Hand tattoo. The logical conclusion we came up with is that the Dunmer is an assassin of the Morag Tong,” Savlian said dryly.

“Well if you found a dead assassin it seems that your problem is solved. Somebody has done you a favour. About time. How many of your men have died? Three? Or was it five?” Simion asked mockingly.

Savlian seethed within himself. How DARE he question my credibility! That scrawny piece of guar dung! If only I could…He didn’t finish his thought since he knew the consequences on acting on such a thought. It was then that he realised he was up against a formidable opponent. Savlian had dealt with such comments before by others with ease, yet with one comment by Simion and he was ready to kill the man on the spot! Simion was toying with him.

Well two can play at that game…

“Humph. I think not. You see, from what I got out of the crime scene was this- This Dunmer knew the person behind this. They ran into a disagreement of some sorts and like the coward this freak is, stabbed his own buddy in the back, relishing in the suffering he induced. This time he wasn’t knifing a complete stranger, but someone he knew like a friend. I got that just from seeing that this likely skilled assassin didn’t even put up a fight. Whoever it is, has been leaving cracks in their method, and soon enough I’m going to break those cracks wide open and have this monster hanging from the end of a rope,” Savlian said, laying the words heavily on the person sitting in the other chair.

Simion calmly cleared his throat and said, “A very interesting theory, Captain. I do hope that it’s my idea though. That way, this situation would be over now.”

Nothing! He didn’t even blink furiously! Savlian thought desperately. Simion wasn’t cracking on his best methods. Not even a drop of sweat had oozed out of him.

Hiding his dejection, Savlian said, “Well that’s all I have to say to you, Mr Mandrake. I do suggest you desist on the sketchy behaviour though. It will help in avoiding things like this.”

Simion shrugged out of his chair and walked towards the door. He turned around and faced Savlian. “I’ll keep that in mind, Captain. Good day.”

And Savlian simply watched the threat of Kvatch walk out of his barracks.

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

All right, there's the conclusion of the interrogation, hoped that turned out well. Expect an update Saturday (my time at least, I don't know what'll be elsewhere). Hopefully I won't be bogged down with chemistry this time

Very nice. I love it when stuff like this happens, even if it is for the worse. I love it when the people keep a cool head and are multiple steps ahead of the interigator. Now lets see how long Mr. Mandrake can keep it befoer eit all goes to his head.... (which i doubt will happen but still)

sweeeeeet....I'm liking Mandrake more and more.....

I almost hope he gets away with it. But you would have to be brilliant, and always five steps ahead. Possibly, just possibly, Simion is....

Darn, slippery as an eel, isn't he? Oh yeah, time for the slaughter, part 2!

Everyone's comments are always so interesting, and enjoyable to read. Glad to see that you find Simion a interesting character, he's always fun to write. Savlian and The Count are a close second though. So you get a double dose with this one: A little Simion and a little Savlian. Enjoy!


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Simion slammed the door loudly upon entering his home, releasing his pent-up feelings over the events of the afternoon. He slid his fingers between his hair anxiously and gracelessly slumped onto a chair.

They were catching onto him. Or Captain Savlian was at the least. Just from that small meeting he had with Savlian, Simion knew he was a dangerous opponent. The Imperial showed intelligence and a sharp mind. Just as quickly as Simion rattled Savlian, though Simion gave him credit in hiding it well, Savlian came back and rattled him. Fortunately Simion could conceal his reaction slightly better and Savlian didn’t pick up that he hit a nerve. Simion could almost say he was impressed with Savlian deduction so far. With the few mistakes Simion had made, Savlian had set sights on him as the culprit and had almost perfectly deducted what happened to Lavos.

Even though his mistakes had been few, they had been costly. Simion also knew the fault behind them as well. It was that infernal voice in his head. It plagued his mind, his actions, causing slip-ups that would’ve otherwise been avoided. At least, that’s what Simion believed. Though, Savlian avoided names, from the question about the homeless Simion figured that one particular bum had grown suspicious of him, likely on the night he was injured. He also had a good idea on who saw him leave his home with Lavos’ body. Simion had picked up Bernise’s sudden wariness during the day. She had been too curious the day before and now she was avoiding him; it spoke volumes to him. A sensation began to come over him and he knew what was coming.

“You must make them pay for what they’ve done. Death is the only suitable punishment!” the voice howled inside Simion’s head, sounding as if there was a thunderstorm storming within.

Simion winced and visibly shook at the sound of the voice inside his skull. “They are not involved with my mission. They are not Town Guards, they’re innocents,” Simion objected aloud.

“Don’t be foolish! It is because of them that you are under suspicion. They are threats to the mission and therefore must be eliminated!” the voice threatened.

“No! You are the reason I’m under suspicion. All you’ve been is a nuisance!”

“If it weren’t for me, you would be dead. That Redguard… even those Brotherhood assassins back in Vivec, it was me who defeated them, not you. Everything I’ve said has been true so far. Didn’t I tell you that the woman would suspect you?” the voice said.

“I can’t. If I do, Captain Savlian would instantly turn his attention back onto me. Right now, it is best to leave him questioning my guilt. Besides, we should focus on our main goal. I am tired of waiting. I’m going to finish this tonight and finally be done with you. So let us put everything else aside and get this mission done,” Simion said authoritatively.

A dry chuckle echoed in Simion’s head. “You’re right, that’s the best thing to do. This hunger might finally be satisfied.”

So Simion and his inner turmoil began their formulating for the finale of their mission. Simion vowed that the display would be a spectacle for Kvatch to remember decades from now.




On the other side of town, Savlian was reading over the scribe’s account of the interrogation between him and Simion. He hoped to find something there, something subtle that would reveal something crucial. He just couldn’t let the feeling go that he just let a serial killer walk away. There was an aura about the Breton that radiated violence. Yet nothing he read incriminated Simion at all.

Frustrated, Savlian threw the paper aside, growling in anger. “He seemed too slick! Even if he was innocent, he should’ve shown some anxiety,” Savlian shouted at the air.

A slick interrogation wasn’t evidence that he was behind this though. While it may grow suspicion, he needed something certain, something that couldn’t be argued over. At that moment though, he had to check up on a few things. He left the interrogation room and headed towards the private cells.


When he arrived, something felt out of place. These cells were normally quiet, but not this quiet. It was when he turned the corner that his blood turned cold.

Collapsed on the floor was the on duty guard and Barlok’s cell door was swaying ajar.

I sense we are starting to reach a finale with this, almost makes wonder if your going to take some liberties......damn that Goldwine!

Wooo-ooops! Should be more careful with those! God, I've read up to the one before that post, and this is one good Fan Fic!

It surely is! Easy to read and follow, you´re doing a great job you know!

It could be drawing to a close, but I'll leave that up to speculation for now

As for today's post, it'll be interesting to see the comments for this one. We'll see if anyone has been paying attention to their reading

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Savlian only absorbed the situation briefly before hurrying to the fallen guard’s side. He rolled the guard onto his back and examined him quickly. Realising that he was only unconscious, Savlian shook him lightly to wake him up.

“Gracius! Wake up!” Savlian urged his fallen comrade.

A low groan escaped Gracius’ lips and his eyes fluttered open, a lost look to them. Once they focused on Savlian he nearly jumped.

“Sir!” was all that Gracius got out before Savlian interrupted him.

“What happened here, Gracius? Why is Barlok gone?” Savlian demanded.

Still recovering from being knocked out, Gracius spend a few moments rubbing the back of his head and thinking before answering. “At first I was bothered by some Imperials in the Count’s colours. They demanded that Barlok was to be turned over to them by orders of the Count. I related your message to them and they left in a huff. About an hour later, they come back only this time a big Nord was with them. I go to repeat myself and that’s the last thing I remember.”

It didn’t take an Arch-Mage to figure out who the Nord was. Savlian knew it was Hlodir. Obviously he was sent on behalf of the Count. Now his only viable witness was likely dead at the hands of the Count’s “inquisitor”.

Whether it was because of the interrogation beforehand or just a culmination of everything that had been happening, Savlian couldn’t deal with it level-headedly anymore. Balling his fists, he kicked and pounded at the concrete walls of the prison until both his hands were too sore to continue. Tears of anger and frustration ran down his cheeks while Gracius sat in mute silence, questioning whether or not he should say anything.

Savlian sighed heavily and slid down the wall into a slumped sitting position, a defeated look across his face. It was then that Gracius decided to speak to his Captain.

“Captain, if you don’t mind me saying, but shouldn’t you be mad as hell? I know I would be if the Count was beating up my men. I would go there and give him what ho! Get what I’m saying?” Gracius said with encouragement.

Savlian looked over at Gracius. “You know what? I am mad!” he said, his voice rising in intensity, “Just because he’s the Count of Kvatch doesn’t mean he’s above the law. I am the law! I’ve let this go on for too long. I’m going to show him who does the ordering around here!”

Savlian then rose to his feet and marched out of prison, a determined look on his face. Gracius smiled. His Captain was back.


Count Goldwine was content for now. Only a few hours ago he had received word that Barlok was in their custody and had all ready begun his “interrogation”. He had gone down to make sure everything was being done properly and he was happy to find out that it was. By the time he was there, Barlok was a sobbing wretch, begging for his life to be spared. It took nearly all his willpower to not end the pitiful Orc’s life then and there. Fortunately he kept it, and received an extra half-hour to do some personal interrogation himself before he grew bored and finished.

Goldwine was more than a little annoyed with the order Savlian had made to keep Barlok in his custody. The Town Guard worked for him! They should do what he told them to. They were to be meek and unquestionably loyal to him. Savlian seemed to think otherwise and that could be dangerous for one of them.

He was going to have to tell Hlodir to smarten up his men, or else another one might be caught. Eventually, one of these captives will be unattainable and then the whole operation would come crumbling down. That had to be avoided at all costs. Goldwine knew that he could never survive prison, and he certainly didn’t wish to be executed. He loved his life even more than his love for money and profit. No, prevention was the best cause of action for now. Even if he had to send Hlodir to finish off the Captain he would do it.

But for now, he was going to enjoy his small victory.




It was during his elaborate evening-time dinner when a commotion erupted from down the hall. All Goldwine could hear was some heated exchanges and then rapid footsteps echoing off the marble floor. Suddenly the dinning room doors burst open and Captain Savlian Matius headed straight for the Count.

Seeing the expression on Savlian’s face sent ripples of fear down the Count’s spine and he began trying to get out of his seat. His panic was causing him difficulty though.

“No you don’t, Vernon,” Savlian said and toppled the chair holding the Count over. The chair crashed loudly against the floor and before the Count knew what was happening, Savlian had him pinned down from above.

“Help! Guards!” the Count hollered in fear. He didn’t want to die now, especially not like this.

Savlian opened his mouth to say something, but before a word came out a mob of arms surrounded him. The Count then found himself being pulled up by Hlodir while Savlian struggled against the Count’s Personal Guard holding him down.

“You damn coward! How dare you go against my orders!” Savlian yelled at the Count, who was trying to straighten out his clothes.

Hlodir walked over to Savlian and delivered a straight fist to Savlian’s stomach, knocking the air out from him. “Shut up!” Hlodir ordered.

Savlian glared at Hlodir and he took racking breaths to regain his air.

It was the Count’s turn to deliver a fist to Savlian’s stomach. “How dare you enter my home and make accusations at me!” Goldwine snarled and then smacked Savlian hard across the face, “You ruined my meal!”

Despite being hit, Savlian said, “You stole a criminal from my prison. I want an explanation.”

“I don’t have to answer your demands. Fortunately I’m a nice person and I’ll answer it though. What I want, I get. That’s the quickest way to explain it. The long way is that being the Count of this town, I need to take interest in those who break my laws. I enforce justice around here,” the Count said with a smirk.

Savlian breathed heavily, trying to maintain his cool. “I, too, enforce the law. If I requested for a criminal to be held in my prison, I expect that request to be accepted,” Savlian said in an even voice.

The Count took on a mocking tone, turning his back to Savlian. “The thing is, Captain. I rule this town, which means I am above you. If I want the criminal, I get them. No objections. It makes me upset that you would make an “order” such as you did. I only did what I did to make you realise that. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. You are not above the law.”

The Count abruptly turned around and clutched Savlian by the chin, bringing himself up to Savlian’s ear. “You’re wrong. I am above the law. I’ve been making people disappear for years, even before you were around to do it for me. It’s how I got this town. I could even make you disappear and get away without a blemish upon me. Don’t think I won’t either; you’ve all ready seen what I can do to you. Now you be a nice, complacent Guard Captain and you won’t have to worry about that,” the Count whispered harshly, throwing his hand off Savlian’s chin and backing away.

The Count then double-checked to see that he looked orderly. “I’m done with my meeting with the Captain. Escort him off the grounds,” he said calmly before exiting the dining room.




As Savlian was being led out of the castle, something about what the Count whispered bothered him. It was as if he heard it before. It obviously wasn’t the threat, for that only further intensified his hatred of the man. It emboldened him to put a stop to him rather than submit. He had only inept men at his command and the next time they try something, he was going to capture the whole lot of them. He would then go to the Imperial Court with his evidence and have Vernon Goldwine hang.

So, if it wasn’t that, what was it? Then it clicked:

“I’ve been making people disappear for years, even before you were around to do it for me.”

Yes, I know what that means, 'Ive been making people dissapear for years"....and it relates inimately to the other main character and people that were once near and dear to him.....is an alliance possibly forming here?

I wonder if Simion and the count are forming an alliance, too. Just, Simion was the actual murderer, and the count wants his Skooma! It looks like he'll go to great lengths to get his drugs!

Tsk, still too tied up with honour. Maybe Savlian should hire some assassins. Yeah, that would work.

Hmm... definitly not Simion! Maybe one of... the Dark Elf's friends!

Very nice MM! So.... the count and Simon are the same people? j/k can't wait for the Morag Tong finnaly get there.

Hehe, nice spectulations everyone, but I'm not going to say if any of you are thinking in the right direction. Things will begin to fall into place in the not so distant future. Well this is today's update:

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The sun had long since descended beyond the horizon, plunging Kvatch into darkness. While the rain and stormy weather had relented from the previous day, the clouds still hung thickly in the skies, blocking all possible moon and starlight.

For the most part, Kvatch was quiet. The town centre, which was never entirely asleep, still had some occupants roaming the streets to head to the next tavern. Outside of that though, the town was in nearly mute silence, only the odd cough sounding from the wall sentry gave truth that there was still existence outside of the town centre.

In one spot of the town, the silence was broken as a back door carefully creaked open. A figure, cloaked in black emerged from the opening and carefully closed the door once more. This time, no nosy neighbours were going to see him sneaking out of him home. This time, things were going to go flawlessly.

The figure decided to take the long way to his destination. The quickest way was straight through the heart of the town, but the figure intended to avoid as many people as possible. All distractions had to be avoided. He didn’t know whether his problem could drive him to do something he couldn’t escape from, which would blow his main goal.

He kept to the shadows the entire time, avoiding the odd lamppost that was lit. The environment he was heading to required him to keep his night sight. Plus, sudden light was painful when using a constant night eye enchantment. An added bonus was that he didn’t even stumble across a single person. Not even a patrolling guard. They were likely concentrated in the centre of the town where he had made his previous attacks. The fools didn’t get it at all. They were merely fodder for the main course.

Roughly an hour later, the figure reached his first roadblock, the Town Guard Barracks. In order to get where he was going, he needed to get past that fortress of stone without being seen. Then again, this might prove to not be so difficult. Why would a town guard expect a criminal to walk right past their front door? They wouldn’t, meaning their guard would be down. He just hoped that his thinking was correct, and that no one would be entering or exiting the barracks very soon.

He pressed himself up against the cool granite of the barracks wall and began to slide his way across it, hoping that being so close to the wall would avoid detection from those possibly patrolling above him. Before reaching the large doors, the figure paused. Holding his breath, he listened carefully for sounds of movement. When silence answered his call, he slipped past the door and hurried past the barracks. The first obstacle was passed.

After gaining some distance from the barracks, the figured scaled up a wall with a grappling hook. The feat only took a matter of seconds, exceptional for the size of the wall. Due to the relatively poor design of the building, the figure was able to jump from the top of the wall unto a ledge of the building. His soft shoes cushioned his jump, allowing all noise to be muffled silent. Taking out his knife, the figure was able to unlatch a nearby window and infiltrate the premises.

Scanning the room, the figure found himself in an unused servant’s room. He silently exited out into the hallway, making sure that it was empty. He made his way silently along the halls, heading in a purposeful direction. He knew where he was going; all he needed to do was be silent. Before he got far though, footsteps were heard descending a nearby staircase.

Alerted by the noise, the figure hurried to a position behind a statue. From there he could get a good look at the staircase, and likely avoid detection from the person descending it. The first thing seen was the flickering glow of a candlestick, and then black dress shoes, followed by a Breton in a fine suit of livery. In his one hand was the candlestick, and the other a stack of letters. It didn’t take much to figure out this was a servant of the head of the house.

Perfect, he’ll take me right to his door, the figure thought as he stalked out of his cover once the servant had turned his back to his hiding spot.

After minutes of following the servant carefully through a maze of hallways and rooms, the figure sensed that they were approaching the room that which he desired. It was time to get rid of a possible witness. Unsheathing his knife, the figure crouched down and quickened his pace, drawing ever closer to his victim.

His adrenaline pumped through his body, but he was able to maintain a steady, silent-breathing rate. Once he was within range, he sprang, striking at the servant with the knife. It sunk right into the heart of the man, yet the figure’s hand clamped over the mouth of the man muffled any chance of a cry of pain. He held the servant there, stomping out the fallen candle quietly, until the body went limp. The stacks of letters were spilled across the floor but the figure didn’t care. He had spilt blood, and was hungry for more.

The door stood before him, behind it was the man who had ruined the only real life he had. While this man had flourished in his crimes, the figure had been wallowing in poverty and striving to survive. It took a lot of willpower to not scream out his rage even now, after all these years. All he simply needed to do was open the door and end it. Reap his vengeance.

He all ready pictured the display that he would leave this monster in. He could sense the excruciating pain he would put him in. It would be his greatest masterpiece yet. His blood will be the most pungent, the spray of it will be the most awe-inspiring, the sight of it…

His thoughts ceased suddenly as something cold, hard and sharp rested against his shoulder and began to press against his neck. He was sent into stunned disbelief when a voice quietly rose behind him.

“That is as far as you go, Simion.”

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And I think I'll leave it right there
I'm cruel sometimes I know!

You cruel son of a mating kagouti!!!

Excellent Update, my friend.

Ha! I'll be surprised if it's Savlian!

Simion slowly spun around to face his assailant. The whole time he wondered what he possibly could’ve done to be caught. He had been so careful! At least as careful as he could be; the voice did cause a few slip-ups, but those mistakes couldn’t have hinted that he was coming here.

Once Simion’s eyes fell on his captor they widened. He was staring straight into the eyes of a determined looking Captain Savlian Matius. Savlian smirked with a hint of darkness at Simion’s reaction.

“H-how…?” Simion managed to choke out as a whisper.

“A fortunate series of events for me, but they would be unfortunate for you,” Savlian said evenly, readjusting his grip on his broadsword.

Savlian’s cryptic answer set off a nerve in Simion. “No! I need to know how! I deserve that much!” he whispered heatedly at Savlian, his voice heavy with conviction.

“What you deserve is a good hanging. But I’ll satisfy your curiosity if you satisfy mine,” Savlian said, pausing to wait for an answer. Simion nodded, so Savlian continued. “The first thing I knew about you was that you were supposedly abandoned by your parents, as they had disappeared on you. Then you, yourself said that they disappeared on you. It just so happened that when I was talking to Count Goldwine, he said something that jogged my memory. You see, I know about what Goldwine does to the people of Kvatch. What he collects is additional money and if people catch on, he gives them a warning to shut up or they next time he “makes them disappear”. Recently, I found out that before I arrived in Kvatch, Goldwine was doing this business himself in order to fund himself for his quest for Lordship. Given that you were a child when Goldwine was doing this, and the repeated fact that your parents “disappeared”, I just made a connection from there.”

“If you knew what was going on, why didn’t you stop him?” Simion asked.

“Because I’m a man of the law. He deceived me when I first started working here. Since then, I have been making the best effort possible in curbing the amount of “disappearances”,” Savlian said and then asked, “Now, for my own curiosity, was I correct? What really happened to your parents?”

Simion stood mute for a few moments, thinking on his possibilities. Here he stood with a sword to his neck, his whole operation smashed along with it, and his captor wanted to know about his parents. Something was odd about this, Savlian wasn’t trying to slap him in chains and take him away. It seemed like the only reason why he had a sword to his neck was to keep Simion from attacking. The thought of attacking did cross Simion’s mind. The operation could be saved if he could kill Savlian quietly with a surprise attack. The problem was, Savlian was a seasoned veteran, he knew what he was dealing with here and Simion didn’t think he was fast enough to get away from a sword that was all ready pressing against him. He decided that the best thing for him now was to hear out the Captain and figure out what he wanted.

“Fine, Captain, I’ll tell you what happened…”



The storm came shortly after the Mandrake family’s evening time meal. The chill brought on by the heavy winds caused the family to huddle close to the fireplace. Vincent Mandrake, the man of the household, spoke quietly with his wife, Mayden. Simion sat upon her lap, listening to their conversation every now and then or fixing his attention on the dancing flames in the fireplace. Eventually, Simion began to doze off, soothed by the pleasing voices of his parents.

When the quiet snores of Simion reached his parents’ ears, they ended their conversation in order to put Simion into bed. There seemed to be no frets for the family at all as they all retired for the night, the howling winds buffeting the home ineffectively.


Simion woke to what he thought was a peal of thunder. He found that odd, as he wasn’t expecting a thunderstorm, just a lot of wind. Listening carefully, he could still hear the winds moaning through the air but there was something else as well. Murmurs. Curious, Simion left his bedroom and started to head downstairs, where the source of the murmurs originated. He stopped a few steps down, just enough so he could see the bottom floor.

His father was holding his mother against him while three men stood around him. Even from a distance, Simion could see the tears in his father’s eyes. He had never seen the men standing around his father before. They certainly didn’t look friendly. They were all Imperials, but the one closest to Simion’s father stood out from the other two. He seemed to exude power, a very dominating one. The large rings on his fingers also told Simion that he possessed wealth.

“You’ve been cheating me, Vincent. I don’t appreciate that at all. You’ve just received only a small taste of what’s to come,” the lead Imperial said darkly.

“Vernon, with taxes so high I only have so much I can give you. I need to provide for my family,” Vincent pled, still cradling the still form of Mayden in his arms.

One of Vernon’s thugs turned to the other and said, “Hey buddy. Would you call a male widow a midow?”

The other thug laughed. “That was a good one!”

Vernon turned around and looked at the two thugs sourly. “Shut up you two.”

The Imperial then turned his attention back onto Vincent. “As for you, it’s time for the payment,” he said as Vincent began to back away, terror struck.

Simion couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene before him as the three Imperials began to beat on his father. Vincent couldn’t put up a fight, his will was shattered with the death of his wife. Only the occasional whimper or cry of pain rose from Vincent.

The Imperials backed away momentarily and Simion saw that Vincent was unconscious, his body beaten badly yet was not bleeding. He noticed Vernon nod to one of his thugs, who then proceeded to snap Vernon’s neck.

The sickening crunch caused Simion to cry out in fear, anger, and pain. Immediately three heads swivelled in his direction. Vernon smiled mischievously and motioned for the thugs to get him.

Simion didn’t know what came over him but when the thugs reached him on the stairs, he lashed out with his foot on the knee of the closest one. The blow caused the man to cry out in pain and fall backwards, tackling his partner with him as they crashed down the stairs.

Instead of fleeing, Simion went straight for Vernon, bolded by his attack on the thugs. Simion lunged at the man who was still wearing his grin. For his size, Vernon was nimble enough to side-step Simion’s attack. As Simion turned around to face his opponent, Vernon’s ringed fist slammed right into his face, toppling him to the floor.

Dazed, Simion felt wetness on the right side of his face, above the brow. He couldn’t regain his feet and terror rose up within him as he thought that he was now going to be the next corpse.

Vernon simply stood there, inspecting his ring for any damage. “That took some courage kid, but we have more important things to do than play fight with you,” he said smirking.

The last thing Simion saw before blacking out was Vernon walking out of his home with his thugs carrying the bodies of Mayden and Vincent Mandrake.

“…Shortly after that, I left home. I simply couldn’t live in the place where that happened,” Simion finished, voice heavy with emotion.

Savlian remained quiet throughout the whole recollection. He saw something new in Simion now, a loss of innocence. Since that night, Simion has faced a hard and cruel world all on his own, and it was way too early for him to do such a thing. Simion was a victim of circumstances. But this still raised questions.

“Why did you have to kill my men when all you wanted was Vernon?”

“I figured that if Goldwine was now Count of Kvatch, then his whole damn organisation would be corrupt. I would be doing the town a favour by getting rid of them,” Simion said calmly, his caution receding due to the lack of being arrested as of yet.

“You figured wrong. Those were good men you killed. But I’m willing to make a sacrifice for them…” Savlian trailed off, fixing Simion with a awkward glance.

This was what Simion was waiting for. “You want to make an arrangement of sorts?” he asked, all ready knowing the answer.

“Yes. If I walk away from this, I want this to be your last murder. I won’t pursue you about your previous murders, though that breaks me inside, I’ll do that much for you to get rid of Goldwine. Overall, more lives will be saved this way,” Savlian said, not sounding happy about the situation one bit.

Simion extended his hand and said, “My last murder.”

Savlian felt like he just made the biggest mistake of his life as he gripped Simion’s hand and walked away.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm... I suspect the Daedra attack soon.

HaHA! So I was right, but not in quite the way I was suspecting...

Very good.

Indeed very good Mallie! In fact really darn excellent!

Time to move things along. Hopefully I can keep things interesting after this. And I'll tell Abu this right now. The daedra attack on Kvatch won't happen in 'Bloodlust'. If I do decide to write it, it'll be in a sequel. Hopefully I'll keep the sequel a little shorter than this, and move onto a project that might prove interesting to my fellow writers here. But that's getting a bit ahead of myself. Here's the update!


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Vernon walked briskly, his cloak swishing softly with each step. Anticipation poured throughout his body, excitement and nervousness flirted with each other. Vernon needed to remain a sombre demeanour though. He couldn’t express his true feelings, but by the Divines, he was happy. He was getting what he wanted, he was sure of it.

He finally reached the large double doors at the end of the hall. They were heavy with intricately gilded designs crawling up the sides of the doorframe. The dark brown object was his only obstacle, one he simply needed to push past. Vernon took pleasure in doing so, throwing the doors wide open as he stepped through them.

Bright sunshine greeted Vernon as he entered his large courtyard in front of his castle. A respectable, awed hush from the crowd outside reached his ears. That only enhanced his feeling of greatness; it gave him the power to do what he wanted to do. He saw how every eye in the crowd followed him as he made his journey across the courtyard to where his throne sat awaiting him.

He also noticed that some of the crowd would break their gaze on him to murmur something into their neighbour’s ear and glance over to their right. That was acceptable as well, considering the event about to take place. It wasn’t often that an execution of this scale happens.

Beside the crowd was Vernon’s newly constructed gallows, specifically made for this execution. It was a monstrous pile of greyed wood, practically an eyesore compared to the beauty surrounding it, but that was how Vernon wanted it. Punishment was meant to be ugly and scary. Intimidation was the only way to get through to the criminals that their fate was sealed as soon as they committed their crime.

At least the crimes that Vernon didn’t want.

The point of being a Count was control. That even goes for crime. There is no way that all crime could be abolished, so the next best thing to do is at least control the crime. Vernon had that controlled, for the most part. There were just a few loose ends to deal with.

Vernon reached his throne and regally sat himself down. All murmurs in the crowd immediately silenced. All were anxious to hear what Vernon was going to say. It always amused Vernon how the public thirsted to witness death. He intended to quench their thirst this afternoon. He, above all, was a crowd pleaser.

Standing in front of the gallows were three men, two of them in Vernon’s colours and the other, an Imperial, held in between them, his head bowed. His sandy brown hair was stringy and dry, his skin pale in drawn. Captain Savlian certainly wasn’t the proud man he used to be.

It had taken quite some time in Vernon’s personal dungeons to break the Captain. It was a personal triumph for Vernon once he did though. Now was the time to make use of his scapegoat.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Vernon started, drinking in the crowd’s attention, “I’m sure you have all been interested in what has been going on over the last few days. As you may have known, some unknown “serial killer” has murdered members of our Town Guard. Captain Savlian here was assigned to the case in catching this killer. Since assigned to the case, the killer has killed three more guards. Captain Savlian’s negligence raised my suspicions, so I had the Captain followed. My informant passed on information that he witnessed Captain Savlian murdering the fourth victim. Since being arrested, Captain Savlian has also admitted to murdering countless other residents in Kvatch who were thought to have gone missing.”

Upon hearing Vernon’s words, the crowd rose up in a flood of heated voices, angry at the one responsible for killing their own people. Surely, some participants in the crowd had family members that had gone “missing”. Vernon could barely suppress a snicker at his ingenuity. Captain Savlian worked perfectly as a scapegoat for the “missing” people since he was taking the blame for murdering the guards. Sure, the actual murderer had yet to be found, but he had Hlodir on the case now and Vernon felt confident in Hlodir’s abilities.

Vernon raised his arms to the air to silence the crowd, which slowly complied. “As your Count, I am equally as appalled as you are about Captain Savlian’s crimes. As Count, I have deemed his punishment to be death by hanging. Many the Divines judge you appropriately,” Vernon concluded to the appraisal of the crowd turned mob.

The two guards led Savlian up the stairs to the top of the gallows as the mob shouted their profanities at the dispirited Captain. He kept his head bowed the entire trip as the guards stopped him in front of the rope. They slipped the looped rope around his neck and awaited Vernon’s command.

Vernon silenced the crowd once more. “Would the Captain like to say some final words?”

All attention was turned to Savlian, curious to see what a mass murderer would say before death. Many were disappointed when Savlian simply shook his head no, followed by a drop of liquid falling from his bowed head.

Vernon nodded to guard by the lever, anxious to see the results. The guard complied and pulled the level down. A loud groan erupted from the gallows as the trap door fell open with Savlian plummeting downwards…


A shadow crossing across the moonlight on Vernon’s eyes snapped them open. Before him stood an ominous shadow, which began to lean before him. Before he could call out, the shadow wrapped a hand over his mouth, efficiently muffling it.

Horrified, struggled within his covers that were binding him from escape. The shadow brought its head to Vernon’s ear. “Time to pay for what you did to me, Vernon. Vengeance is mine!” It whispered harshly.

Vernon moaned in horror as a glint of steel appeared in the shadow’s hands.




Four riders, dirty with the dust and dirt of travel entered through the gates of Kvatch at dawn. Three wore simple brown robes, two of them were Dunmer, and the other a Khajiit. A Dunmer in a well-made red robe rode slightly in front of the three.

Clenching the reins in black leather gloves, the red-robed Dunmer turned back to his three companions. “Find Lavos, report at the assigned location 24 hours from now. After that, we’ll go from what we find out,” he ordered quietly as the three riders rode off in different directions.

Hanging back, the red-robed Dunmer hoped that Lavos would be found. Things could get quiet messy dealing with Simion if that wasn’t the case.

An old friend is in town!!!

Hmmm... I wonder how they'll get him.

Oh, will he get time to finish the job or will he be stopped by the sneaky assassins? Tune in next time.

Well, jack, I think this update tells you whether or not Simion completed his deed or not...


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Savlian didn’t know what to expect when he entered the Count’s bedroom. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. The once pristine white covers were stained so heavily with crimson it looked nearly black. The stench of the blood was all ready rank with decay. Once Savlian’s eyes fell upon Count Vernon Goldwine, he couldn't believe what he was witness to.

The sight of him nearly caused Savlian to vomit on the spot. He was forced to turn his back on him to recollect himself, taking several deep breaths before returning his gaze on the fallen Count. The display of absolute violence done upon the Count astounded Savlian. The Count was still in his bed, hands bound to the bed posts and his back against the headboard in a sitting position. His throat had been sliced completely open, yet that was not the disturbing factor for Savlian. It was that the Count had been disembowelled quite thoroughly. Savlian could tell that the Count lived through some of it at least, since Vernon’s face was the perfect image of convoluted agony and fear. It amazed Savlian how Simion was able to do this without Vernon screaming in pain and anyone noticing. Not to mention how frightening that aspect was. This was a prime example on how talented Simion was at his profession.

A young Imperial Town Guardsman walked up to Savlian, a grim expression on his face. “Did you notice the body in the hallway? Looks like the butler. Brixley I think his name is, or was, actually.”

“Yes, I noticed. The way I see it is that the butler basically led whoever did this to the Count’s room, took out the butler to insure privacy, then proceeded with their grisly attack on the Count. I’m still shocked that no one heard anything all night,” Savlian said, turning towards the guard, “If you were being disembowelled, wouldn’t you scream and yell for help?”

“Maybe the killer sliced his throat before doing that,” the guard offered.

“No, judging by the expression on the Count’s face, he saw what was happening to him and didn’t enjoy it. This was a crime of emotion, possibly vengeance. The killer wanted the Count to see what was being done to him. Who ever did this likely enjoyed what they did, simply because this would take time to do. They didn’t seem afraid of being caught,” Savlian said solemnly, shaking his head sadly.

“Do you think this was done by whoever has been killing guards in the Town Guard? Brixley’s execution out there looks like something from one of those crime scenes,” the guard inquired, looking to see if his deduction was a good one.

“Possibly, I certainly agree with you on the execution of the butler, but looking at this… this is completely different. This is vicious, vile, vengeful. It’s also unrelated to the Town Guard. I don’t see any reason for whoever has been killing our men to do this,” Savlian answered, retaining his grim expression.

“Sounds reasonabe,” the guard agreed, “Have you’ve seen all that you need to? I think it would be best if we get things a bit more pleasant looking before those rats at the Black Horse Courier have a field day with this.”

“Sure, go ahead. I need to deal with the succession issue for now,” Savlian said before dismissing himself from the room.

With Vernon dead, the next ordeal to deal with would be who was to govern Kvatch. As with most hierarchies, the next in the bloodline would be given control of Kvatch. If Savlian remembered correctly, that would be Vernon’s younger brother, Ormellius Goldwine. Vernon had never taken a Countess for his court, so he had no children.

If Savlian’s memory was correct, Ormellius was currently living in Chorrol, serving as an army commander. Savlian needed to get word to Ormellius quickly before a power struggle within Kvatch erupted. His fear of this was mainly due to Hlodir. As being the Count’s right-hand man, and likely having influence with most of the Vernon’s household, he posed a threat on the leadership of Kvatch.

Knowing the network Vernon had created, word of his death would have all ready reached Hlodir’s ears. One of two things would happen. Either he would flee, taking as many men as possible, or try to overtake the castle.

It was then that Savlian realised how empty the castle was. Hlodir had all ready evacuated his men. Was he planning an attack on the castle, or simply fleeing back to his drug lab hideaway? Or maybe, something else?

I’m going to need to act quickly, because the sooner I’m done dealing with this, I’m bringing you down, Hlodir, Savlian thought as he headed to his barracks.

Yes...bloody wonderful!!!

I really like the detective-like manor expressed in this update, it allows the reader to really build a visual image of whats going on in the story. Great work, please continue.

Yuck. I hope that Simion washed his hands before leaving.

Hmm, I don't trust Hlodir. I've got the feeling he'll pop up behind our good captain's back real soon.

Commander Ormellius Goldwine and his detainment had rode out of Chorrol shortly after receiving the word that his brother, Vernon, had been murdered. When reading the letter that was sent by the Captain of the Town Guard, Ormellius could feel the sense of urgency of the writer. He had been keeping a steady observation on what was happening in Kvatch, just in case he came into power there, and now he was certainly glad he did.

Ormellius was quite the opposite from his brother; while Vernon had distanced himself from his family to make his own money in Kvatch, Ormellius devoted himself to the military. Around the time that Ormellius was becoming a decorated soldier, Vernon purchased his title of Count of Kvatch. It came as no surprise to Ormellius, Vernon was always resourceful. He knew Vernon’s personality, so Ormellius found it hard to believe that Vernon purchased his title legitimately. Eventually, Ormellius had established himself as a worthy commander of the Chorrol Garrison. With that power, he was able to set up his own private investigation on what was going on in Kvatch.

He had found out that a lot of dirty business was going on in Kvatch. Unfortunately, his investigation never led to any connections to Vernon directly. Kvatch’s tax records were unattainable, so he had no way to prove the complaints of citizens being overtaxed. He also knew about the mysterious “disappearances” and the skooma drug ring. Again, they didn’t have any names on which to continue the investigation. It was a very frustrating matter at the time. Ormellius intended to correct these problems now with his brother gone.



Ormellius was about two hours away from Kvatch when along the rode they were travelling on riders began to materialise in the distance. The roads had been quite quiet during their journey; with only the odd merchant wagon or farmer greeting them along their way, but this was their first time coming across a group of riders.

Suspicion gnawed on Ormellius’ mind, so he decided to hold up the horses and wait for these riders to arrive. The detainment, confident in their commander’s action, complied readily, some making sure their weapons were easy to reach.

As the silhouettes of the riders became more distinguished, Ormellius noticed that they only numbered three. With only three, the riders would have to all be accomplished mages or masters at their weapons to defeat Ormellius and his detainment. His apprehension receded with that assurance.

Moments later the riders, consisting of two Nords, and an Imperial, stopped before the Commander’s detainment. The large Nord at the head of the group stepped down from his horse and walk towards Ormellius on his horse.

“Greetings, Count Goldwine. I wish t’be the first t’congratulate you on your succession as Count o’ Kvatch,” the Nord said rather elegantly, despite his rough looking clothes, and bowed down to a knee.

Ormellius kept his face emotionless as he answered. “Thank you, Nord. Might I ask whom I am speaking with?”

“My name do be Hlodir Windblower, faithful servant o’ the former Count,” Hlodir replied from his knee.

So this is whom the letter mentioned to be wary of… Ormellius thought as he studied the Nord. “What is it that you wish to speak with me about, Hlodir?” he asked in a light tone.

“Well, sir, I was hoping t’keep serving the Count o’ Kvatch. I offer “services” that your Lordship would find quite beneficial,” Hlodir said, flashing the best smile he could.

Ormellius flashed a smile as well. “I’m sorry, but I have to inform you about some disheartening news for you. I am not my brother. I have no use of your “services” whatsoever. Now I suggest you ride along before I decide to enact your punishment for your crimes right now,” he said, his tone becoming harsher with every sentence.

A scowl of hatred replaced the smile that was on Hlodir’s face as he rose from his feet. “With Vernon dead, you don’t want me for an enemy. Kvatch is mine!” Hlodir nearly hissed at Ormellius as he hopped onto his horse.

“Well be sure to stay out of “your” city, or else you’ll be arrested and executed,” Ormellius called out to the backs of three riders heading north.

Well, so far, so good.




A red-robed Dunmer sat at a corner table in “The Flying Bosmer”, eyes casually scanning the patrons milling about in the tavern. There was a grey haze cast about the rafters of the room due to excess amounts of tobacco smoke. The Dunmer added a puff of grey smoke himself, but of the hackle-lo variety that he brought along. He had tried tobacco once before and found the stuff vile. Plus, the restorative effects of the native to Morrowind plant seemed more effective than what these Cyrodillic called “quality smoke”. He shook his head in disbelief of the ego of the Empire. He had to admit though, they made good brandy…

Looking up from the table, he noticed his fellow companions making their way to his table. The Dunmer finished off his hackle-lo; eager to hear the report, yet he kept his face even.

The Khajiit was the first to speak. “Rah’mirr has heard no news about Lavos. Rah’mirr fears for the worst,” the Khajiit said solemnly.

The red-robed Dunmer nodded thoughtfully then turned his attention to the two other Dunmer, who shook their heads sadly.

“Then in all likelihood, like the note said, Lavos is dead. How Simion could kill his best friend is beyond me, but since he has, we’ll have to be extremely cautious. Right now, we scout for him. Everyday, at this time, I want reports. Once we find him, I’ll take it from there,” he said, his tone deadly serious, “No more Tong members are going to die from here on out. Understand?”

The Dunmer watched as three heads nodded in compliance before leaving.

Black leather gloves creaked as the Dunmer flexed his fists as he stared down at them in retrospect. The lump of a ring predominately caught his attention. With that ring, everything had changed for him; he went from a simple assassin to a leader of an entire province for a time that had the greatest need for him. The ring had certainly cost him much, but he persevered to do what was needed.

He sighed. “Just when I hoped the burdens on my life were finally vanquished, this had to happen,” Sethyas Velas quietly said out loud to no one in particular.

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I would just like to thank Black Hand for allowing me the privledge of using Sethyas for cameo purposes. Hey, if Tellie and minque can do it. I can too!

Sorry Hlodir, no candy this time. I'm sure that we haven't seen the last of him.

Sethyas versus Simion? This would be an interesting battle. The master assassin against the madman with quite a bit of skill of his own. I bet my money on Sethyas though. Hey, Sethyas killed a god, I haven't seen Simion do that.

Wow. Not stroking MY ego here, but Mallets, you got all the intricacies down pat, you definitely have been paying attention to my story, and of course you wrote it down in the style I have come to love!
Keep it up!

Oh me oh my! I have sooooo much reading to do!

I decided to start on your story first because I wanted to see what some of the "New Blood" had to offer since I was last here. It seems that the writing is as strong as it was before (No big shock with that one) which makes me want to catch up on each and every story here. It will take me a while to do it but I will read them all!!!!

Mallet I do have to say you really have a talent for writing and I think that you enjoy doing it as much as we enjoy reading it. Keep up the good work, it was a lot to take in reading all seven pages at once but if that is what it takes then so be it! Congrats on a great story, a riviting storyline and spectacular characters. Keep it coming!

Bloody Nord! Woops, did I say that? Anyway... nice one!

I can't believe i missed this much, were have i been? Anyways.... fabulous! I loved all the description you put into it all. It was grisly but well done... so, was it a silence spell or just a good hold onto the mouth? I love the conversation between Goldwine and Hlodir, even if it was anti-climactic (at the moment, I'm sure something big will happen eventually). I love this story, please keep up the good work.

I would just like to announced that I've officially written over 100 pages of text for this story! While I don't think my story is long enough for another 100, I still feel quite proud of myself. This has been the longest piece of work I've ever written and I'm so happy about all the positive comments I've been recieving from everyone. It has certainly inspired me to make sure I finish this piece, in order to satisfy all my readers. Thanks again, here's the update:

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Savlian stood outside the gates of Kvatch, a retinue of Town Guard surrounding him. Town banners, which hung off the gates and the lances some of the guards were carrying, fluttered in the slight breeze. Savlian intended to give Ormellius a good impression of what Kvatch truly was, and that they would certainly intend to protect him. Given Ormellius’ service in the Legion, he couldn’t possibly be corrupted as well. Savlian hoped it was so; he didn’t know if he would survive if he had to serve under another corrupted ruler.

Minutes later, Savlian could see a large party of riders travelling up the twisted path that ended where he now stood. Sunlight reflected off the steel armour of the armoured soldiers as they surrounded a rider that wore no armour. With every moment of their ascension, anticipation rose in Savlian. He now hoped that things would start turning around in this town now with Vernon dead and Hlodir banished from the city. If Ormellius turned out to be much like his brother, there would be no simple way to get rid of him, next to committing the crime himself. There would be no assassin wanting redemption for this man to take advantage of. Of course, this all depended on whether Ormellius was indeed like his brother. Savlian was soon to find out about that.

Ormellius was a hard looking Imperial. His jaw was square with a small chin, while his lips were a thin line across his face, which certainly looked like one not prone to smiling. His dark brown hair was still quite solid in colour, but a few flecks of grey speckled his temples. His presence still exuded power and strength from Savlian’s perspective. Savlian was impressed to say the least as he rode forward to greet the new Count.

“Greetings, milord! Captain Savlian Matius wishes you welcome to Kvatch,” Savlian said in a respectable manner, placing his fist to his heart in a soldier’s salute.

“Thank you, Captain,” Ormellius said, returning the salute, “We have much to discuss, don’t we?”

“Indeed we do, but for now, let us escort you to your new home,” Savlian responded. He then signalled to begin the procession and open the gates.

A company of Town Guard led the procession, followed by Savlian riding beside Ormellius and his company of riders, and the rest of Savlian’s greeting party brought of the rear of the procession. Savlian rode silently beside the new Count, who was equally silent. His eyes scanned the new environment; much like a hunter would scan a forest, absorbing every possible niche of the town. Savlian studied Ormellius as he did this in his peripheral vision. Ormellius certainly exuded a soldier’s mentality, something Savlian thought would be good for the town.

It wasn’t long until the procession reached the castle beside the barracks. It was there that both the front and rear procession broke off to return back to their duties and Savlian followed Ormellius and his company into the courtyard of the castle. It was here that Savlian chose to address Ormellius once again.

“Sir, would you like to be briefed now, or would you like to settle in first?”

Ormellius dismounted from his black steed and faced Savlian. “I would prefer to speak right now. Would you lead me to somewhere we can do this?” he asked.

Savlian nodded and headed into the castle, Ormellius following in tow. He led him past the dining room, through several hallways and finally into Vernon’s old study. This room wasn’t used all that often, as Vernon wasn’t one prone to read books, especially those more focused on laws, regulations, and commerce. Vernon had had his own agenda for those topics. Savlian felt it was ideal to begin the new reign here.

Savlian set out chairs for both Ormellius and himself. They sat down facing it each other, each examining the other, judging their character. It was Ormellius who spoke first.

“I’m sure you, like myself, are relived that my brother is no longer ruling this town. I have to let you know that since I heard about Vernon’s succession in becoming Count, I have been keeping my eye on the activities going on here.”

“Well sir, I know there has been problems here for quite a wile, but I would like to let you know that I did everything I possibly could to ensure the safety of the citizens of this town,” Savlian said seriously.

“I believe you. I’ve noticed the decrease in problems as soon as you were named Captain of the Guard. No one but Death would’ve been able to completely stop Vernon given the position he was in. If you interfered with his plans enough, he would’ve had you killed,” Ormellius said sincerely.

“He recently tried to, shortly before he was murdered. Fortunately, with him gone I think it’s safe for me to get back into my home,” Savlian said, releasing a dry chuckle.

Ormellius didn’t share the laugh. “As for that murder. What’s the situation on that? I know that there has been someone murdering your men, but this seems unrelated,” he said, fixing Savlian with a tough stare.

Savlian paused for a moment. What should he say? Should he tell him everything he knew? Or something that would satisfy Ormellius? He did tell Simion that he would go free if he did not commit anymore murders…

“We think the Dark Brotherhood was involved in the murder of Vernon. It makes sense that someone in Kvatch, obviously upset with being overtaxed, asked the Dark Brotherhood to take out Vernon. We don’t know if we’ll be able to narrow down suspects to find who paid for the job. As for the Town Guard murders, it’s dead cold. Whoever has been doing them has been really clean. We haven’t caught a single clue. It does seem that our preventative methods are working though. There hasn’t been a murder is a few weeks. We think we’ve scared them off,” Savlian said evenly, sounding like he was giving a report. He was used to lying to Counts it seemed.

Ormellius nodded absently. “Well it’s good that whoever killed your men has stopped. Unfortunate that you couldn’t catch them though. And I certainly don’t feel like pursuing the Dark Brotherhood; they’re too elusive for us. I guess that’s all we need to speak about,” he said, extending his hand across the table, “Good work, Matius, I hope you continue your excellent work.”

Savlian shook the extended hand and smiled. “It’s simply a part of my job, sir,” he said, and rose out of his chair and began to exit the study.

“Wait a moment, Captain. I forgot about one issue,” Ormellius said quickly to get Savlian’s attention.

Savlian turned around. “Yes?”

“It’s concerning Hlodir, my party and I ran into him on our way here. Fortunately you warned me in the letter you sent me, as I sent him scurrying away. I want you to bring him down. He rode north from where I ran into him.”

“Follow me to the map room and show me,” Savlian said, waiting for the new Count to follow him out.





Hlodir was furious. How dare that stuck-up soldier deny him! He was pivotal to the success that was Kvatch! Without his help, how could Ormellius become rich? The fool! Just for upsetting him, he was going to make him pay. Savlian too. He had a personal grudge against the Captain of the Guard, and him breaking his nose didn’t help end it. Yes, he had something special planned for Savlian. It just so happened that he ran into his special ingredient on the way back to his hideout.

“Valrus, welcome t’me humble abode,” Hlodir greeted the robed Altmer, waving his arm across the abandoned fortress he now called home.

Valrus sniffed the air. A disdained look came across his face. “Smells horrid! But I guess it is better than a cave… most of the time,” he said bitterly.

Hlodir laughed boisterously. “You’ll get use t’it me friend, you’ll get use t’it. But now we have some plans t’discuss and it’ll require your “magical” expertise,” he said, smiling slyly. Indeed, they were going to pay.

Hmm, I don't know if lying to your new count is such a good start but then again, I don't think that talking would have brougth good results either.

Hlodir is up to something sneaky. When it involves mages, things are going to get messy, very messy.

Congratulations on reaching 100 pages. This fan here will happily read it till the very end.

excellent update MM and congrats on reaching 100 pages. Hlodir with a mage and a posse of followers(I'm assuming he has peoples) in an abandoned castle with multiple grudges... thats not exactly a good thing.

Should be interesting, congratulations on reaching 100 pages by the way.

I'll be looking forward to the next update as well so keep em coming.

Great MM! You´re doing very well really. Now this was a good read, I enjoyed reading it! Keep up the good work here!

Thank you for all the congratulations guys, and gals. Your present: another update!! Happy you are, yes?

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Savlian spent almost an hour in the map room with Ormellius, pouring over maps of the surrounding area around Kvatch. They focused their concentration to the area Northeast, as that was where Ormellius ran into Hlodir, and it was the direction he ran off to once his altercation with Ormellius was done. The problem was that there didn’t seem to be anywhere suitable for Hlodir to reside. The only thing Savlian and the Count could come up with was that he had set up a camp in the wilderness with his men.

Frustrated with the lack of headway, Savlian was forced to dismiss himself from the Count to see to his daily duties. Ormellius understood, and told him that he would continue to look at the maps for a possible location while Savlian was gone. It was ideas like that that had Savlian impressed in just the few hours Savlian had met the new Count. Ormellius displayed a determination that Savlian had only seen in his men before now. He knew now that things were going to start to turn around in Kvatch. No longer would a blanket of suppressed fear cover the citizens of this town. With Ormellius and Savlian working together, Savlian knew they would be able to bring about a new age for Kvatch.


When Savlian entered his office in the barracks, he found that it wasn’t empty. A Dunmer sat on a chair that was at one of the corners of the room, a placid expression on his face. The Dunmer wore red robes that were quite well made, but dirty from obvious travel. His red eyes glowed with a calculating look. What did stand out the most was a large, black tattoo that covered most of his face. To Savlian, it looked like it resembled a hand; a hand that he believed that he had seen before.

Even sitting in the crummy chair, the Dunmer still exuded an unknown sense of command. It was as if his presence filled the room, yet his demeanour was calm and relaxed for the most part. The Dunmer rose from his chair, an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry for just appearing in your office, the guard told me I could wait for you in here,” he said, extending a black gloved hand, “I’m Sethyas.”

Savlian shook the extended hand. “Captain Matius. What can I do for you, Sethyas?”

Sethyas’ expression hardened. “I would like to report a missing person. A friend of mine, you see,” he said, worry tingeing his words.

Savlian took out a piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink. “All right. I’m going to need some information on the missing,” Savlian said evenly, turning to the Dunmer, “I’ll need his name, race, and roughly his age, build, and appearance.”

“His name is Lavos Saren. He’s a Dunmer like myself and he’s around 100 years old, so basically he looks like he’s 32 translated to human years,” Sethyas stated, taking a breath, “As for his appearance. He’s of slender build, about 6’11, messy black hair. He generally wears dark robes. He also has a tattoo similar to the one on my face, only it’s on his arm. Hmm, what else?”

Savlian stopped writing once he heard about the tattoo. He now remembered where he saw it before. Slowly, he put down his quill and faced Sethyas, his expression grim. “I’m sorry that I have to be the one to give you this information, but I think we’ve all ready found Lavos. We found him dead in an alley; someone had attacked him. We haven’t been able to find out who he was, as he is a stranger to this town but your description matches the body. I don’t think many people have that hand tattoo,” Savlian said regretfully.

Sethyas sat there silently for a few moments, eyes cast away from Savlian at the floor. His expression was unreadable, but Savlian thought he noticed anger surging through the Dunmer’s eyes.

Finally, Sethyas spoke, his voice hollow. “Do you know who did it?”

Savlian had a good idea who it was, he never asked if Simion committed that murder though. “No we don’t, who ever did it, didn’t leave behind any evidence. It looked more like an assassination since there was only one wound on the body and no signs of self-defence,” Savlian decided to tell him.

Sethyas rose from his chair, his face solemn. “Thank you for letting me know, Captain, but I’ll leave you to your duties now,” he said quietly and began to head for the door.

Before the Dunmer could leave, Savlian said, “I’m sorry for your loss. I’ll make sure to do my best in finding who killed him.”

Sethyas nodded absently before closing the door behind him. His footsteps quickly faded down the hallway.

Savlian leaned back into his chair, as thoughts came storming through his mind. Savlian had a good feeling that he was just speaking with another assassin. Savlian had surmised that the Black Hand tattoo was a sign associated with the Mephala praising Morag Tong. This Dunmer, sporting such a tattoo right on his face, was associated with the dead Dunmer with the tattoo on his arm. Putting two and two together, Savlian believed their association was based in the Guild. Yet, there was something more to Sethyas than just being an assassin. Assassins are usually ones who wanted a low profile. There seemed to be a mix between that and someone who drew attention simply with his presence. It was really perplexing to Savlian.

Feet pounding along the hard concrete floor interrupted his thoughts. The sound was getting louder and suddenly a guardsman burst through his office door, panic clearly evident on his sweaty face.

“Sir, the treasury is under attack! Some of it is in flames!” the guard said urgently.

Savlian lurched from his chair and quickly donned his armour and equipped himself with his broadsword and dagger. “Let’s move!” he shouted at the guard as he rushed out of the office towards the treasury.

Hmm, Sethyas made his appearance. Well done, his prescense was truly visible.

Treasury in flames? Hmm, this sounds like a case of: ,,If I can't have it, no one can!" I think I know who did it.

Treasury in flames...gee I wonder who did that?

As for Sethyas, nice atmosphere he exuded there! makes me wonder what he'll do next! No folks, I'm not savvy to the rest of the story, I would'nt want to know, it would spoil these great updates.

And it sounds like Ormellius and Savlian are working well together, hopefully Kvatch has at least some turnaround before some irratable neighbors throw down the ebony gauntlet!

great update... and the treasury is on fire? that can't be good.

After your recent contribution to the tale of Sethyas, I felt I needed to finally wade into this already long story. I'm really glad I did, because I've found it quite exhilarating. Having read this entire story today, I'm dreading have to wait for updates like everyone else has done all along. I've really enjoyed your very visceral descriptions of each combat/killing, and the incredible depth you've brought to our favorite guard captain. I'm looking forward to your next update.