Treasury on fire...well that isn't very nice at all is it. Haha great work again and I just noticed that you are a fellow Canadian as well! All hail the Canucks! (Not the hockey team, I am a Sens man myself ) But let us get back on track shall we? A great addition and a well deserved congrats on the milestone of the 100 pager!

Ah yes MM....and meeting Sethyas huh? Oh aye....a great update...well as usual I must say.....


S.G.M

....[cough]ToldYaSo![/cough]

**Looks around innocently**

What? Wha'd I say?

I'm sorry for being a little late with this update folks. The usual day I write was missed since I went to an open house for a college I'm interested in attending. Plus, this update is a bit longer than my usual ones, just a bit. I would just like to welcome those who have just recently started reading this after my collaboration with Black Hand. Hopefully you'll enjoy this as much as you've enjoyed reading Black Hand's great fic. I again express my thanks to Black for allowing me to do that.

And for Taillus: Yea, Canadian pride! You must find it a bit annoying that the Sens have been kinda up and down so far this season. At the moment though, they look like they're getting their act together. Personally I'm a fan of the Alberta teams, even though I live in Ontario. Eh, I'm weird like that.

Ok, without further delay, here's the update!

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Exiting the barracks, a squad of Town Guardsmen met up with Savlian, swords drawn. Savlian simply continued on in the direction of the treasury, hoping that they would understand to following. The echoing of metallic footsteps on the cobblestone proved Savlian right.

It didn’t take much to know there was a problem in the city. Dark smoke bloomed above the rooftops west of the barracks, where the treasury was located. As Savlian got even closer, he began to pick up the sounds of fighting.

Savlian rushed across the corner of a building and the scene was then displayed before him. Thugs, equipped with various sorts of weapons and armour, none of which were of excellent quality, were engaged with Town Guardsmen who had arrived first on the scene. Savlian took a quick survey of casualties, noting that two guards were down while about 4 thugs were sprawled on the cobblestones. He also noticed the thugs that weren’t fighting were busy dragging gold and septims from the burning treasury.

Savlian pointed to a group of Guardsmen. “You men! Stop those taking the gold. The rest of you, engage the enemy!” Savlian shouted and charged towards the thugs.

Savlian went straight for the Imperial that was giving one of his men a difficult time. Before the Imperial knew what happened, he found himself staring at the steel piercing his chest before his eyes went dim. Savlian turned to the Guardsman. “You all right? How many are in there?”

“I’ll be okay sir, just need a breather,” the guard replied, wiping the sweat from his face, “As for how many; I didn’t get a decent count, but I’d say around thirty.”

Savlian nodded. “You get your breather, but I want you back in there helping out ASAP.”

Savlian decided to see who was inside the building, two guardsmen falling in beside him to back him up. Savlian caught a thief by surprise as they attempted to leave the treasury with an overhead slash bringing them down, spilling his desired spoils on the ground.

Entering the treasury, they were immediately engaged by thugs waiting to ambush them. Unfortunately for them, their ambush was outnumbered 3 to 2. Savlian and his men easily out classed their attackers in swordsmanship, resulting in a quick dispatch. Savlian continued on through the hallways of the treasury, dark smoke swirling above their heads.

Savlian began to notice that, excluding the noise of crackling flames, the noise of the surroundings had become awkwardly silent. Savlian slowed from a quick trot, to a wary strafe, casting his eyes in every direction possible for danger. The guards with him quickly followed suit by watching each other’s backs.

The heat from the fire steadily began to rise as Savlian approached the foyer ahead, causing sweat to crawl down his spine. An amber colour emanated from the room, crawling along the sides of the wall as Savlian approached the open doorway. From within, stood three bodies, two of them looking like the sort they had previously ran into. The other one, looked to be robed, but they stood further back from the rest that Savlian couldn’t study the person any better. The radiating heat waves shifting the image of the robed figure didn’t help.

It seemed that one of the thugs noticed Savlian and his guards approaching. “Oh no! Captain Matius is here to do us in! Run for the hills men!” the thug mocked, a wry smirk on his face, “Here’s a message from Hlodir: ‘Kiss me british boat!’”

Savlian’s eyes narrowed. So Hlodir was behind this! It seemed he left Kvatch with a grudge on his shoulder, one that he didn’t want to release. Savlian intended to spoil Hlodir’s little escapade.

Savlian broke into a quick trot towards the taunting thugs, their jeers becoming more and more obscene. Both guards trailed behind him, keeping pace with Savlian. It was as he entered the foyer that he realized he made a mistake.

Just in front of the foyer doors was an adjacent hallway. As Savlian entered the foyer, thugs waiting in ambush intercepted the trailing guards, cutting them off from Savlian. Before Savlian could turn around, the foyer doors closed and a wall of flame erupted in front of them. Savlian was trapped.

He turned around instantly and intercepted the downwards arc of one of the thugs’ sword. Expertly, Savlian parried the blow, using his momentum to spin around his opponent and score a deep slash to the exposed chest of his attacker. Crimson oozed from the corners of the thugs’ lips as he collapsed to his knees before falling to the floor.

The other thug, no longer issuing taunts, warily made his way towards Savlian. He held two daggers, one in each hand, and circled Savlian. Meanwhile the flames danced along the walls, which was strange since none seemed to be spreading into the middle of the foyer.

Suddenly, the thug lunged in with a quick stab with his knife. Savlian stopped the blade and made a swipe himself, to which the thug nimbly dodged. The thug went for the kill again, this time swinging both blades in a cascading pattern. Savlian backed away from the frenzy of attacks, parrying with his sword when he needed to.

A well-timed elbow to the face after a parry by Savlian sent the thug backing away, watery eyes blurring the following strike which ended the life of the thug.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Savlian turned to head back to the doorway to figure out a way to get out and hopefully help out his men. His decision was interrupted by the sound of applause coming behind him. Savlian turned around and faced a robed Altmer, who was clapping his hands slowly. A smug look was on his clean shaven face, but his eyes were hard with not a touch of softness to them.

“I must admit, Savlian. You do wield that broadsword effectively. But, as my employer wants you dead, I must obey,” he said indifferently, raising his hands as arcane energies began to glow upon them.

A hedge mage! Savlian thought, ringing alarms within his head. This was very unexpected of Hlodir to do. Never once had Savlian come upon information that Hlodir was in league with anyone with capable magic use.

The Altmer gestured, a bolt of fire went rocketing in the direction of Savlian. Savlian rolled across the floor, the fireball exploding against the floor where Savlian had previously been.

Rising to his feet, Savlian quickly closed the distance between himself and the Altmer. He decided he wanted to finish this mage off as quickly as possible. With all the strength he could put behind it, Savlian swung his sword at the defenceless Altmer. At least, he thought he was defenceless.

The blade stopped short of landing on the body of the Altmer; instead it felt like Savlian had just hit a concrete wall with his sword. Recoiling in pain, the mage took advantage by grabbing a hold of Savlian’s arm, sending waves of electricity shuddering into Savlian’s body.

Savlian convulsed in pain, the electricity not even allowing him to voice his anguish. Eventually the grip from the Altmer was released allowing Savlian to collapse to the floor. Fighting for breath, Savlian returned to his feet to see the Altmer simply standing there, the indifferent look still upon his face.

“I thought this would be challenge. Not only are you a fool to think you could strike me, but now I know you certainly have no chance in defeating me,” the Altmer said sadly, raising glowing hands once more, “Ohwell. Time to end my fun.”

This time lightning arched from the fingertips of the Altmer, streaking their way towards Savlian while casting a blue light throughout the room. Savlian leapt to the side, landing on the floor heavily, hair standing on end from the amount of energy issued from the attack.

Dammit! I’m a walking lightning rod! Savlian thought angrily as he managed to kick off his boots, feeling the warmness of the wood upon his feet. While the flames were obviously being suppressed by some magical mean, it was still frightfully hot within the foyer.

Savlian had managed to shed a gauntlet when a quick succession of fireballs came soaring in his direction. Savlian managed to bob and weave past the barrage, but afterwards he thought he caught the scent of burnt hair.

As the mage formed another spell within his hands, Savlian tried a desperate move in throwing his dagger at the Altmer, which harmlessly smacked against the invisible shield surrounding the mage.

The mage couldn’t suppress a chuckle as he readied his hands. “Stop wasting your time,” he said smugly.

A new tactic formulated within Savlian’s mind. He decided to rebuttal. “It seems you’re the one wasting your time. Wasn’t I supposed to be dead by now?” Savlian asked in a mocking tone.

The smug look on the mage’s face quickly changed to a twisted expression. “You mock me!? You don’t understand the dire situation you are in, Savlian,” the Altmer managed, barely suppressing his true reaction.

“I actually feel quite safe, the fact that I’ve been in a burning building for 10 minutes and feel fine is attributed to you and your selflessness,” Savlian said, in the same mocking tone.

The Altmer screamed in fury, unleashing another barrage of fireballs. This time, Savlian took off at a sprint, running around the room to avoid the constant barrage of flame. The impacts of the magical attacks were beginning to cause the structure to weaken, as debris began to fall from the ceiling, cascading down in fist sized chunks.

Finally, the attacks stopped at Savlian saw the mage panting and heavy in wreaking breaths. A flickering light suddenly surrounded his body briefly before blinking out. The shield was gone.

Winded himself, Savlian strode across the room to the mage, defenceless since his magicka reserves were depleted.

“Tsk, tsk. You’d think one such as yourself would have control over their emotions. Is it not correct for the mage to master their mind before they master magic?” Savlian asked, still managing to use his mocking tone.

The mage visibly seethed in fury, picking up Savlian’s dagger and raising it to strike. But Savlian was prepared and lashed out with his broadsword faster than the mage expected. The blade went cleanly through the skull of the Altmer, and continued to sever the raised arm. The body crumpled to the floor, blooding immediately began pooling along the floor.

Savlian turned his face away, suppressing the urge to throw up. It was then that he noticed that the flames were no longer being suppressed by any magic. With the adrenaline from battle fading, Savlian began to notice how short of breath he was, and that each breath was beginning to burn. He needed to escape and escape quickly.

The doors out for the exit of the foyer were blocked by flames, but Savlian mustered the strength to pick up the body of the nearby thug, and charged through the flames, breaking through the door.

Savlian dropped the body and collapsed to his knees, each breath was beginning to be painful now. Smoke stung his eyes and he managed to rise to his feet and trudge through the hallway towards the exit of the treasury.

His vision was starting to fade and blur as he felt he was nearing the exit. The heat was so intense; it was as if his feet were aflame. Yet he still moved them, unable to accept defeat or death. Hlodir was not going to beat him with this!

With two final steps, Savlian could see blue sky and clouds through the haze of the smoke. It was then that blackness greeted him.


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Expect another update sometime Saturday. I'll actually be writing since I won't be missing my writing time. Honest!!

Ah, a tactic used by Savlian, worthy of a Sethyas Assassination! Nicely written as always!

In the tavern of “The Flying Bosmer”, Sethyas Valus scanned through the latest edition of the Black Horse Courier. Emblazoned on the front page were the words ‘TOWN GUARDSMEN KILLED DURING SIEGE UPON TREASURY’. Supposedly, a large group of bandits had suddenly appeared and attacked the Kvatch Treasury. Reports stated it was a mage that led the attack and started the fire. Though the mage and most of the bandits were killed once the Town Guard arrived, there were casualties on both sides. The Courier reported that at least 5 Guardsmen were killed, but their names were not going to be released.

He momentarily thought of the Guard Captain he spoke with the other day. Surely he would’ve went to the treasury. The man was courteous enough that Sethyas hoped he wasn’t one of the casualties at the battle. Even if he was an Imperial, he seemed a decent enough person. Sethyas shook his head sadly as he folded up the paper and placed it on the table. It seemed as though Sethyas had arrived during a time of turmoil within the city of Kvatch. There was more going on here than Simion murdering Lavos as well as some Town Guardsmen. With the recent demise of the Count of Kvatch, there seemed to be someone taking advantage of the confusion created from the Count’s death.

Sethyas’ breakfast had gone cold from the time spent reading the paper and mulling over its contents. He pushed his plate aside; he had lost his appetite anyway. He looked up from his table and noticed Taris Dren walking over to his table.

Taris was a young Dunmer that was tall and lean, but wiry. His black hair was slick back over his head and shined with scrib grease. Taris was the son of the now deceased leader of the Commona Tong, Orvas Dren, and nephew to Duke Vedam Dren. To say he was different than his father would be an understatement. While he still held some sense of Native Dunmer tradition, as he did serve the Morag Tong honourably, he did not share the same ruthlessness and criminal activity that Orvas displayed. Sethyas enjoyed the fact that Taris was against slavery the most, a trait they both shared. It was also surprising to see Taris join, since it was the Morag Tong who finally disposed of his father.

Taris greeted Sethyas quietly and pulled out the chair opposite of Sethyas to sit down in.

“Sethyas, I’ve found him! I know where he lives,” Taris whispered excitedly, his youth still evident.

Sethyas kept his relief to himself. It had taken much too long to find him. “Excellent. Now I want you to go find the others and bring them back here. We have plans to discuss,” Sethyas said, dismissing the assassin.

Taris nodded before leaving the tavern. Suddenly, Sethyas felt hungry again.

Step 1 is down. But how many are left to go?



Blinding sunlight greeted the opening eyes of Savlian Matius. Savlian caste his eyes with a hand to fend off the glare and he sat up in an infirmary bed. Looking around, Savlian realised he was back in the barracks, in the sick bay to be specific. He also realised that his armour had been stripped and he was dressed in plain clothing.

He stretched his unused limbs and immediately stopped as pain jarred him. The top of his left shoulder was still sore after having magic applied to it to heal the burn he had suffered. Gingerly moving his arms, Savlian made his way out of the sick bay and headed for his office.

On the way he passed solemn faces of guards, who smiled slightly upon seeing him. They all voiced their happiness in seeing the Captain up on his feet again, but their joy was subdued by the death of fellow Guardsmen who didn’t survive the attack. Savlian appreciated their remarks and also their grievances over the deaths of their fellow brethren. Too many of them had perished so recently. Savlian silently vowed to make a change of that.

Once he arrived in his office, he changed into his Captain’s attire. On his desk, he found reports on the damages done to the treasury, casualties, and eyewitness reports. The treasury had completely crumbled in the fire, but much of its contents were recovered after the flames subsided. There was an estimated loss of 23,700 septims in materials, excluding the building. The serious loss though was the death of five Guardsmen. Their deaths felt heavy upon Savlian as he thought that if he stopped Hlodir when he should’ve, this could’ve been avoided. Savlian couldn’t help but let a few tears of frustration escape from the corners of his eyes.

A knock sounded on his door. Savlian quickly brushed the wetness from his eyes and told whomever it was to enter.

An Imperial Guardsman entered slowly. “I’m sorry to bother you after you just get out of sick bay, but last night we found something we thought you should see,” he said apologetically.

Savlian strapped on his broadsword, which he was surprised to have found clean, and followed the ushering Imperial.

“What did you find?” Savlian inquired as they made their way out of the barracks.

The Imperial paled slightly. “It’s difficult to describe, but it’s a body. We thought it best that you see it though. You might know what to make of it.”

Savlian was troubled by the Imperial’s words, but kept silent as they progressed into the centre of the town. The stench of sulfur was still noticeable in the air from the burnt down treasury.

They finally arrived at an alleyway in the centre of the city; a guard was all ready waiting for them there.

“Glad to see you moving about Captain,” the guard said greeting Savlian.

Savlian nodded in appreciation, but wanted to get to the point. “What have you brought me down here for, Jurik,” he said, addressing the guard.

Jurik motioned Savlian to follow him into the alleyway, which Savlian complied. As soon as they entered, Savlian picked up on the scent of blood. He was starting to become begrudgingly familiar with it. Eventually, the sight of a body sprawled on the floor greeted them.

The man was Imperial, or possibly Breton. From the sight of what little clothing could be seen, they looked like rough leather rags, stained with dirt. The man’s face was unkempt, a grizzly beard surrounding his face. The man had been violently attacked. The most visible wound was that the man’s throat had been spilt wide open, dark blood covered most of the chest of the man. Savlian saw what looked like severed fingers scattered in a bloody mess around the body and a mass of muscle that Savlian was quite sure was a tongue. The image sent chills down Savlian’s spine, whomever did this, was indeed ruthless with this poor man.

Something was tugging at Savlian’s memory though. This man seemed familiar somehow; as if he had seen or met him before. It didn’t take much thought afterwards for Savlian to remember that this man was a homeless man named Madsen. Madsen was the one who basically opened up the case when Savlian was still trying to figure out who was murdering his men. Madsen had given a visual description of Simion after Simion supposedly transferred blood onto him after they had spoken with each other.

This image also reflected the same kind of brutality that Simion inflicted upon Vernon.

Jurik had seemed to catch onto that when he posed a question. “Do you think whomever did this, also did in Vernon, Cap? They look quite similar, don’t you think?”

Savlian nodded his head absently, his thoughts overcome with troubling images.

“By the Nine! We seem to have two serial killers on the loose here, Captain! Though it does seem that our methods in deterring that one whose after us seems to be working,” the Imperial added.

Savlian snapped out of his reverie. “That seems to be the case. I want you two to perform an investigation on this scene here. I want all the details you can possibly get from this. I expect the report to be on my desk ASAP, but for now, I need to see the Count,” Savlian ordered before leaving the two Guardsmen to their duties.

Savlian was overcome with distress when he exited the alley. Was Madsen’s murder simply a coincidence? Was there a copycat killer out there? Or did Simion find out that Madsen was the one who gave up Simion’s description? There indeed was a problem with that last option. If Simion was still murdering people, there was obviously something mentally wrong with him. No one in their right mind would pass up a get out of jail free card when they were simply told to not kill anymore. It was unsettling to know that Simion might be behind this.

He would have to find out sooner or later. For now, he had Hlodir to deal with.

It just doesn't end, does it? You know, I do feel bad for Simion somehow. He doesn't want to kill, yet he can't stop himself from doing it. It is sad, really.

Oh yeah, I still have to congratulate you on an excellent update.

Is Simion still out there? Is Hlodir about to be slapped with the edge of a ticked off Captains broadsword?

Find out the answers to these questions in the next great update!

C'mon! Post Machine it up and out!

Bravado (or somethin like that), I like it MM, please post summore. now, what will Hlodir do without his mage.... he seemed to be the best of the bunch (ability wise, not personality)

The houses in the middle class area of Kvatch glowed amber from their windows to fend off the night’s darkness. One such house did not though. It basked in the darkness, shrouding itself in its embrace. Within, Simion Mandrake sat in isolation at a table, staring down at a pair of bloody gloves.

He had done it. He had killed again; he had thought he could avoid doing it now with Vernon dead. Yet, he couldn’t resist the opportunity he had. It had presented itself perfectly clear, as if taunting him. He had to take it. Nothing would’ve changed his mind.

At least, that’s what he thought at the time. Now, he only thought of the wrath Savlian was going to enact upon him if he discovered that he was behind the murder. He had broken his word about killing again, and Savlian was certainly not going to allow him to continue living peacefully if he found out. Why did he even do it? He had achieved his revenge and yet he stilled murdered an innocent this time. The event was still etched in his mind…


Simion had been enjoying the disappearance of the voice within his head. Since his little “visit” with Vernon, it had stayed silent and its presence had begun to fade away as the days since the murder increased. It seemed that Savlian had kept his end of the bargain, as there had yet to be a single Town Guard snooping in his area. It was amazing what some people would sacrifice to abolish tyranny. Without the presence of the voice, he now felt the guilt that accompanied the deaths of the guardsmen he killed. At the time, all he could think about was getting Vernon, but now, the innocents he had killed to get what he wanted plagued his thoughts. With victory, there was always a price to be paid it seemed.

Life had to continue though, so Simion intended to persevere. In fact, he decided to take a nighttime stroll around town. He always had preferred the night; many years of using it to his advantage in the Morag Tong had made him accustomed to it.

His footsteps echoed off the cobblestones, the late night air was crisp, but refreshing for Simion. He was looking forward to living a simple life. For once, his normal could finally be normal.

After rounding the corner of a closed smithy, a homeless man approached him.

“Spare any change, good s-,” the man began, but suddenly went silent, his eyes widening.

Simion then realised he was face-to-face with the homeless man that he often talked with. Only this time, for some reason, he was now afraid of him. Simion decided that it was from the wanted posters of him, which had fortunately been taken down now.

“Sorry there, did I startled you, Madsen?” Simion said apologetically.

“Uh-uh yes you did somewhat,” Madsen stuttered, his face now perspiring.

Simion was starting to get the impression that something was wrong. “Are you all right man? You’re not looking to well.”

“F-f-f-fine! I’m great. So great in fact, that I don’t even need any money and you can be on your way!” Madsen said, spilling the words out as quickly as possible.

“Ok…have a good night, Madsen,” Simion said slowly and continued on down the street. It was unsettling how uncomfortable Madsen was around him.

An all too familiar feeling then swept over him. A sudden throbbing within his head began to slow down the pace of his walking. Simion’s mind raced. It was back!

“He’s so afraid of you because he knows!” the Voice hissed to Simion.

Simion despaired within. It couldn’t be back! He had satisfied it. Why would it come back?

“I am never satisfied, Simion, you should know that,” the Voice sneered, obviously enjoying itself, “What I need you to do right now though, Simion, is to make an example out of that bum. He’s the one who gave your description to the guards. I know it!”

“How do you know that?” Simion whispered out loud, still re-familiarising himself with the throbbing in his head.

“Think about it. The night that those two guards set you up, the last person you saw was the bum. Shortly after that, the posters went up. Don’t you see, he’s suspicious of you!” the Voice hissed angrily, sending waves of discomfort to Simion.

Simion clutched at his head and crouched down, eyes tightened in pain. Then they the flipped open, shining with a dangerous intensity. “You’re right,” he whispered.

Simion slowly pulled out his dagger, concealing it underneath his cloak. That fool could’ve ruined everything! For that, Simion was going to make sure that Madsen wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Simion noticed that Madsen had taken position with his back to an alleyway, the poor man. He was soon to find out what to truly fear about Simion!

Simion stalked into an alleyway nearby, and detoured through it to get to the one Madsen occupied. Simion edged closer to the back of Madsen, his feet once echoing the cobblestones now silently caressed them. All the wile, the Voice whispered encouragement and its thirst for blood. Soon, Simion could smell the stench of living on the streets on the man, an unpleasant but necessary thing Simion had to endure to get what he wanted…

“Blood!” the Voice screamed ruefully.

It was then that Simion wrapped an arm around the neck of Madsen, clamping his mouth with a free hand. Simion dragged the now flailing man into the alleyway. Simion kept a tight grip though, and used his dagger to stop him from struggling.

“You think I wouldn’t find out, Madsen? I could read the fear in your eyes like a book!” Simion hissed in Madsen’s ear before throwing him against the wall of the alley and delivering a blow to the gut that winded Madsen and caused him to collapse to the floor groaning.

“It’s time to teach you a lesson in how to keep your mouth shut,” Simion said quietly, his eyes glinting in the moonlight to reveal a sadistic image.

Simion managed to pry open a Madsen’s mouth, and with his other hand he grabbed a hold of the man’s tongue. A quick pull, followed by a gurgled cry of agony, Simion stood with a piece of bloody muscle in his hand. Madsen moaned in pain and blood readily poured from his mouth.

The sight was rapture! The moonlight reflecting on the pool of blood forming on the alley floor captured its essence perfectly. Simion studied the bloody object in his hands briefly, drinking in the sight. This was exactly what he wanted!

“This is only the beginning, Madsen,” Simion whispered and he leaned in to put his knife to Madsen’s hands…




Simion didn’t want to visit it any further. He threw the bloody gloves across the floor disgustedly. Hopelessness of the situation began to claw at Simion’s mind. He simply had submitted to the Voice within him so easily.

“As you should’ve, Simion. Because I was right! Madsen deserved death!” the Voice said, sending Simion reeling to the floor.

“It is over between us! Vernon is dead! You’ve got what you wanted. Why must you pester me?” Simion complained weakly.

“Just because I got what I wanted, doesn’t mean I’m satisfied, Simion. My thirst is unquenchable, my motivation constant, I will break you if I have to, Simion,” the Voice threatened.

“I will endure, I’ve done it my entire life, I will do it now!” Simion shouted defiantly.

The response he received was waves of sense melting pain and discomfort, causing Simion to cry out in pain and topple over the table beside him. Finally the pain subsided and Simion was able to breathe again in heavy, ragged breaths. The Voice’s laughter echoed in his mind.

It was then that a knock came from his front door.

Poor Simion. Now just what is that voice? Oh, if it belongs to someone who's not known as Simion's imagination, that thing definitely deserves a good whacking. It makes me sick.

Ahem, while I hate the voice, I love the story. Keep it up.

Yes! lovely sadistic update!

Ding-Dong! Tong calling!

I loved the update, it is a shame the voice has complete and utter control of Simion though. I'll be waiting for the next update.

Oh yes..me too, I´m waiting, you´re a very good writer MM!!!

Wow, with work being so busy today, I'm surprized I was able to get this update done! Damn I'm tired! Anyways, enjoy the update!


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The voice abruptly disappeared as Simion fumbled around in the dark to light a lamp. The clumsiness was mainly due to recovering from the effects the voice had on him rather than the lack of light. Another soft knock sounded against the door when Simion finally got a lamp lit. He gave himself a quick inspection, making sure there was no blood upon him.

Who could possibly be knocking on my door? Simion thought warily as he approached the door. Then it struck him. Savlian! He must’ve figured out it was Simion all ready. Simion certainly wasn’t prepared to be taken away though. He readied a knife as he slowly unlocked the door.

In the darkness stood a robed form. The glowing red eyes quickly gave away that the robed figure was a Dunmer, which shocked Simion at first as he thought he was staring at the ghost of Lavos. He then realised that the face seemed darker in places. The robed figure took a step closer and Simion found out the reason for why the Dunmer’s face was darker; it was because of a black hand tattoo covering the majority of his face. With that, Simion made the connection of whom he was facing.

“Sethyas! What brings you to this neck of the woods? Come in!” Simion said cheerfully, hoping to mask his astonishment.

Sethyas walked casually in, peering at his surrounding and getting a baring on what he was dealing with. "Sorry to have woken you up, but I felt the need was urgent enough,” he said apologetically.

Simion was still trying to figure out why Sethyas was even here. He had never really spoken with the mer before. Simion was all ready planning on retirement as Sethyas had just began his rise in the ranks of the Morag Tong. That didn’t go to say that Simion knew nothing of the man. He was considered one of the Tong’s most revered assassins, not to mention he was the Incarnate of Neravar Indoril.

“It’s no big deal, Master Sethyas. What’s the urgent thing you speak of though?” Simion inquired.

“Please, call me Sethyas, Simion, you’re retired; there’s no need for formalities,” Sethyas said, helping himself to a chair, “As for the urgent need we must speak of. It’s in regards to Lavos; he’s missing.”

Simion felt himself go cold. Even from the grave, Lavos was still trying to defeat him! Simion maintained composure though. “I don’t see what that had to do with me, Sethyas,” he said, faking ignorance.

Sethyas paused, observing Simion, his eyes glowing with thoughts that Simion couldn’t even detect. Simion was good at guessing at people’s thoughts too.

“Well, we thought that since he was your friend, he would’ve visited you. Has he come in contact with you?” Sethyas continued.

“No,” Simion replied curtly.

“Strange, I would’ve thought for certain that he would’ve contacted you. Have you not even received a message from him at all?”

“No, not a word at all. We didn’t really part on the most amiable of terms, but you wouldn’t know of that,” Simion answered.

“Actually I do, Lavos mentioned the incident where you nearly killed him after taking care of the Dark Brotherhood located in the canal works to me. Did you ever figure out why you did such a thing? I’m curious now,” Sethyas asked casually, though his eyes still held a piercing gaze upon Simion.

Simion couldn’t help but feel a little tense under such a gaze. “What I believed to have happened was that my inhibition to kill took control, I couldn’t stop it until it was satisfied,” Simion answered slowly.

Sethyas nodded slowly, but his expression said something else. “I just find it odd that someone with your experience and training would just lose it like that… “ he said, trailing off.

“I believe it was mainly due to the fact that I was killing our sworn enemies. I enjoyed killing them, which led to the loss of control,” Simion said, defending himself.

“Probable, I guess,” Sethyas said absently, fingering at his ring underneath his black gloves.

Simion was starting to get bothered by the mer’s statements. “Well if that’s all you wanted to talk to me about, you got your answer. I would like it if you could leave now; I still wish to have some sleep tonight,” Simion said stiffly.

Sethyas rose from the chair, taking a final look around. “Of course, I’ll leave you to rest. Sorry for bugging you about something as trivial as Lavos,” Sethyas said apologetically as he headed for the door, which Simion held open.

Just before Simion closed the door, Sethyas turned around to face him once more. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Simion.” After that he, walked off into the night.

Simion closed the door, resting his head against it in mixed relief and anxiety. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked aloud quietly.

“It means he knows! Are you that foolish to believe that one of the Tong’s best assassins is just going to pay you a visit simply because Lavos is “missing”?” the Voice echoed within Simion’s head, the suddenness staggering Simion.

“What?” Simion said, confused before he could actually comprehend, “Of course! Lavos must’ve left a message to them. They knew he was sent to speak with me.”

“Yes… You’re finally starting to understand. Now, what must be done?”

“I must… eliminate them.”




Dren, as well as his other compatriots milled about in “The Flying Bosmer”, sipping various bottles of alcohol. Even at this time of night, the Inn was still rather busy and smoke filled the rafters of the place. Dren’s eyes hurt just thinking about it.

Dren’s fingers tapped impatiently on top of his table. His thoughts were troubled.

Why would Sethyas tell us he wanted to see Simion alone? The man is obviously dangerous! He thought as the minutes crept away.

Dren was more than relieved when he saw Sethyas enter the Inn. They exchanged nods before Sethyas sat in the seat opposite of him.

“So what did you find out?” Dren inquired.

“He’s been killing,” Sethyas said quietly, “I saw a bloody glove underneath a table.”

Dren thought as much. “So what’s our next course of action then?”

Sethyas sighed. “We stick to the code. We have to kill him.”

*drool** That was one of the best descriptions of Sethyas I read....dammit,...I dont get to say that! (Even though it was.)

And it appeared my suspicions were confirmed, I enjoy seeing where this will lead next, keep it up friend!

Woah! Nice cameo there! I really enjoyed reading this, not to mention the appearance of our Sethyas! Good work Revie! Really good work, keep it coming!

Revie!? I'm Mallet silly!!!

But thanks for the comments both of you. And I'm glad to hear that I'm doing Black Hand's character justice.

IIIIIIHH!!! Jeez Mallie! I´m SOOO sorry! ahhh can you forgive me? I just have a conversation with Revie in the RP......so I think I must have mixed you two.....ughh must be age!

Amusing......... anyway MM, well done. This has always been a great and interesting story since the first chapter. So keep up the great writing!

Huzzah, great update MM, and i loved Sethyas's and Simion's conversation, brilliant.

"please sir, can i have some more?"

It's reaching a climax here. Keep going, my addiction must be satisfied. Crap, the voice has me in his grip!

So much death and planning of death. I wish there was some way to resolve the issue without having to kill. But, I guess the story is about bloodlust, so perhaps I'll just have to deal with it.

Alright, first off, I forgive you minque . Secondly, I can understand your sentiments mplantinga, it's just that I intended my story to be "gritty" and "dark", so I know that my story won't sit well with everyone. I'm am playing around with an idea for the conclusion, I have yet to make up my mind on which path I'll take though. I won't spoil it anymore than that though Here's the update!



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

Savlian was torn with two decisions he had to make. Two threats on Kvatch stood before him, yet he could only effectively pursue one of them at a time. One path led to Hlodir, the other, to this copycat murderer. Both were dangerous, but deep down Savlian knew Hlodir was the bigger threat. He possessed followers willing to do his dirty work. He likely had them all over the town, organising their next movement with the overall failure of their treasury attack. Savlian knew he had to dispose of Hlodir in order for the attacks to stop. Hlodir possessed a dangerous charisma that could replenish those he lost in battle. The murderer would have to wait; Hlodir was indeed the most important issue.

After his short investigation at the murder scene, Savlian returned to the Count’s Castle and went over the maps once more to figure out Hlodir’s hideout. They decided the only likely place north of the spot that Ormeillus ran into Hlodir, was a cave called Jgorg. Tomorrow, they would launch an attack upon the cave, hopefully catching them unexpected. Savlian spent the rest of the day working with Ormeillus on organising the attack.

“I think that’ll be enough planning for today, Savlian. Or should I say night,” Ormeillus said as he glanced out the window to see darkness. A glass of brandy was held in his hand.

Savlian took his attention away from the charts of tallies of infantry and battle tactics. He rubbed at his dry eyes. “We’re not finished though,” Savlian replied.

Ormeillus waved off Savlian’s remark. “I can finish it on my own. I need to stay in Kvatch, so I won’t need my rest as much as you will, since you’ll be leading this attack. I need you rested,” Ormeillus stated, taking a sip of his brandy afterwards.

Savlian thought about objecting, but realised that he was indeed tired and needed some rest. “You’re right. When do you want me to arrive at the barracks?”

“0900. On the button,” Ormeillus said, his militaristic tone setting in as he returned his attention back to the charts, “You’re dismissed.”

Savlian snapped a salute before exiting the room. He immediately directed himself to his home.

On the journey, Savlian’s mind couldn’t help but drift towards Simion. Savlian knew the Breton was smart, he had seen it when he interrogated him. So obviously, Simion would’ve done the smart thing and stopped killing so that he could avoid charges from his previous murders. He wouldn’t just throw his life away would he? Savlian didn’t think so, but why did he have this inkling that Simion was behind the murder of Madsen? His murder could be blamed on coincidence; the homeless can upset certain types of people into violence. Yet, the conclusion that Simion was getting Madsen back for speaking to the authorities made a good motive for this to happen.

Savlian frowned and shook his head in frustration. No, Simion was keeping his end of the deal. It was simply a copycat who didn’t have the guts to kill a guard, so they resort to killing hapless people like Madsen. That had to be it.

Savlian wearily entered his home and began to remove his cloak. An odd creak sounded from the corner of his bedroom. Savlian’s tired eyes immediately sharpened. His house wasn’t the creaking type. Savlian edged out his broadsword and stalked towards the source of the creak. He entered his bedroom and looked around, only to find emptiness. Everything looked as it should have looked. Except for the wind gushing out his open window.

A sudden roar erupted from his closest as two men dressed in dark clothing burst out of it, daggers poised to attack.

Savlian quickly threw a nearby chair at his attackers, buying himself time to prepare himself as the two stumbled over each other when the chair collided into them. Savlian thrust out his sword, and the first attack fell to the ground. The other decided to throw his dagger at Savlian, catching him in the shoulder of his sword arm.

Savlian cried out in pain, his sword dropping to the floor. The attacker pulled out another dagger, his face grinning in contempt. “I’m gonna stick ya pig!” he sneered and lunged in for the attack.

Savlian swerved around the thrust of the attacker’s dagger, and he grabbed a hold of it at the hilt. The two men struggled between each other over control of the dagger. Savlian used his momentum to smash his attacker into the hard, hoping to stun him and gain the dagger. The attacker took the smash well, and seized the dagger still lodged in Savlian’s shoulder. Lances of pain shivered through Savlian’s body as the attack twisted the blade lodged in Savlian’s arm. Savlian released his grip from the dagger, and received an elbow to the face. He staggered backwards, his eyes watering from the blow.

His attacker yelled in fury as he charged at Savlian once more, his confidence brimming since the Captain was hurt. Savlian saw the blur heading towards him, so he decided to duck down and wrap his arms around his attacker, propelling him into the wall once more. This time, the attacker’s head smashed into the sturdy wall, knocking him unconscious. The attacker and his knife clattered to the floor as Savlian sat back. His vision was clear once more, but the pain still remained in earnest. Savlian gripped the knife in his shoulder and winced at the applied pressure. Quickly, he pulled the knife out of him and nearly passed out from the pain in doing so. Blood ran freely down his arm.

Savlian knew he kept some potions in his cabinet, so he slowly worked his way over and got one. Savlian downed the potion and nausea gripped his stomach as the tissue and damaged muscle of his shoulder began to knit itself together. Savlian’s breaths came out raggedly. He was beyond exhausted, but now he had a mess to clean up.

Back in his bedroom, Savlian studied the first attacker, who now rested in a pool of his own blood. Savlian was certain that he wouldn’t be getting up, so he continued to the second attacker. They were still unconscious, but Savlian ensured his safety by tying the Imperial up. Just as he finished, the attacker came to.

“Ugh…. What the?” the attacker stated groggily, as they began to struggle against the ropes.

“Good, you’re awake, we have some talking to do,” Savlian said cheerfully as he fiddled with one of the attacker’s dagger.

The eyes of the Imperial widened. “Uh, sure! We can talk. I tell you anything you want,” he sputtered out quickly.

“Excellent! First, we’re going to go for a walk though,” Savlian said, maintaining his mockingly warm tone.



“Savlian! I thought I told you to get some rest!” Ormeillus said heatedly as he peered at him from the crack of the opened office door.

“I have someone with me. I was attacked in my home again. Let me in,” Savlian said in a no-nonsense manner.

Ormeillus expression immediately went from angry to concerned as he opened the door to allow Savlian and his captive in. “Come! Come! Are you all right?”

“I’ll survive. Right now, we’ve got some questioning to do,” Savlian said, motioning to his captive, who now was sporting a heavy layer of perspiration.

Ormeillus nodded and turned towards the captive. “Who ordered you to kill the Captain of the Guard?” he demanded.

“Hlodir sir. He said I’d get 500 septims if I returned with proof,” the captive said complacently.

“Hlodir! I figured as much,” Savlian said, looking over the Count’s additions to tomorrow’s attack.

“Wait… I remember you! You were with Hlodir that day I spoke with him on the road from Chorrol. You know where his hideout is, correct?” Ormeillus said, anticipation rising in his voice.

“Yes, I was there that day, and yes, I know where his hideout is. It’s an abandoned fortress, called Fort Falkrek,” the captive said.

“Falkrek? But that’s south, the Count saw you travel north,” Savlian said in confusion.

“That’s right, we did travel north. Once we were out of your view, we circled back and headed south,” the captive stated simply.

“Of course! Hlodir would’ve expected I would remember the direction he rode off when he left. He’s smart for a Nord,” Ormeillus said, angry with himself.

“Well, it seems that most of these plans are useless now,” Savlian said dryly, slightly annoyed that all that work was for naught.

“Actually, we’ll just delay the attack until nighttime. Falkrek is actually closer than Jgorg, so we’ll spend most of tomorrow redoing our tactics. For now, I want you to place this man in a cell in the barracks and get some rest there. You seem to have a problem with sleeping at home,” he ordered, though the last part was said light heartily.

Savlian nodded his understanding; he was more then simply tired now. Tomorrow wasn’t going to get much better though. With Hlodir defeated though, he knew it would be worth the exhaustion.

excellent update MM, you made me cringe when you talked about the knife getting twisted out of Savlian's arm. I like it please keep up the good work

A spectacularly visceral description of the attack on Savlian. Too many of those and may own stomach may have some nausea problems.

I do hope that the Imperial told the truth; I'd hate to see Savlian walk into an ambush at the Fort.

Oh my, bloodlust it´s the name of this story and....well it´s really suitable! But well written as usual...and I have confidence in Savlian..I mean you won´t let him die , right?

Wow, the attacks are neverending. Who needs the Daedra? All we need is a crazy Nord and a possessed Dunmer.

Somehow I've got the feeling that the assault on the fortress will be a slaughter. I don't know why. *looks at the title*
I really don't know why.

The late afternoon sky was particularly sunny for this time of year, a good sign in Savlian’s books. It was as if the Divines themselves were granting good weather for a safe journey. Savlian appreciated it, as his destination was not a good one. He and Ormellius rode with a large contingent of soldiers towards the “abandoned” Fort Falkrek. There, Hlodir awaited them, though the visit was going to be a surprise one. Hopefully.

Savlian kept silent for the majority of the journey, his thoughts preoccupied with the upcoming battle among other things. He couldn’t help but think that his feud with Hlodir was fast approaching a decisive conclusion. That only one of them would survive the outcome of this battle.

Savlian briefly clenched the reins of his horse. He intended to make sure it was he who would survive the outcome of this. Ormellius and Savlian had spent sufficient time in the morning to reform the tactics to take Fort Falkrek. Their idea was basic, but effective. Plus, the factor of it being an unexpected attack certainly bettered their chances.

Ormellius looked over to Savlian, who nodded assuredly. Even in the little time they had met, Savlian discovered that he felt a sense of comradeship with the new Count. Maybe it was because Ormellius was a soldier himself, or that he genuinely cared about Kvatch, but Savlian knew that this was a person who would help Kvatch. By eliminating Hlodir, the last remnants of Vernon’s rule would be abolished. Afterwards, Kvatch had nowhere to go but up. Savlian felt hope with such thoughts.

“Darkness will arrive shortly,” Ormellius said softly, “When it does, the march will have to slow. We don’t want to injure the horses.”

Savlian nodded as his eyes scanned the horizon for the ruins. “I take it we’re still a few hours away. By then, darkness will have fully arrived.”




Hlodir picked at his venison ravenously, allowing the juices of the meat to run freely down his chin. It had been a busy day recruiting, so he had forgotten to eat all day. His hunger was well worth the effort though. He had managed to coerce a considerable amount of people to make the trip to the fort; the promise of a piece of Kvatch’s riches having a decision-making effect on those willing to join.

His thoughts still dwelled on the attack on the Treasury. While the Treasury was destroyed, he lost quite a few men, one of those being his mage, and none of the gold was recovered by his men.

What he didn’t know was whether Savlian took part in the battle. It was likely, but none of his survivors could say that he was there. Hlodir hoped that his assassins did their jobs, that Savlian was taken care of. Though Hlodir assumed he would find out once he performed his next move. It was undecided at the moment, but once he figured it out, he knew it would be successful.

He took a swig of his mead and smiled smugly. Soon, Kvatch would be his. Count Hlodir did sound nice on his ears. All that was needed was for Ormellius and Savlian to disappear.

Rapid, echoing footsteps reached Hlodir’s ears. That was one thing he didn’t like about the depths of the Fortress, sound carried quite easily. He did notice that they were getting louder though. Shortly, an Orc burst through his doorway, his black hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

“We’re under attack!” said the breathless Orc.

“What!? By who?” Hlodir demanded, rising from his seat.

“I couldn’t see them, they’re hiding in the darkness. I think they’re soldiers though.”

“Savlian!” Hlodir said cursing. He unsheathed his longsword and led the Orc out of his room.

Somehow he found me. But how? I was sure I led Ormellius off in the wrong direction. That only means… those bastards! My assassins betrayed me!



“Fire!” Savlian shouted as the archers released another volley of arrows into the encampment surrounding the ruins of the Fort. It turned out that the assassin has spoken the truth. When darkness had fallen, the campfires of those surrounding the Fort acted as a beacon for Savlian and his men. The camp’s sentries had been lax in their duties, so Savlian managed to have the whole Fort surrounded easily. Now, Savlian intended to thin their ranks with a barrage of arrows.

Cries of pain and despair sounded from those entrenched in the encampment as the arrows ploughed into them. Before any form of retaliation could be made, Savlian unleashed another volley of arrows. Savlian signalled to a specific archer, who fired a single flaming arrow up into the air. It was time to use the steel.

Sounding a battle cry, Savlian brandished his broadsword and charged into the encampment. Soldiers ran alongside him, shouting their own battle cries. The noise they created was deafening. Savlian saw fear stricken eyes as he stormed from out of the shadows to engage the enemy. His sword bit into the flesh of all enemies within his reach. Nothing was going to stop him from finding Hlodir.

It seemed that some semblance of order had been established in the enemy ranks as now sounds of steel clashing against steel rose from the sound of dying men. Survival was ultimate goal in this battle. Hlodir and his men were fighting for survival presently. Savlian and his men were fighting for their future survival. If Savlian were to fail here, they certainly would’ve failed in the future. What mattered most was to avoid failure.

Savlian noticed one of his fellow soldiers struggling with a raggedy Breton, so he lunged in to aid his comrade with a well placed thrust that brought the Breton down. The soldier nodded his thanks before his expression suddenly turned alarmed. He looked as though he was going to attack Savlian, but in reality he parried an attack that Savlian didn’t noticed was coming for him. Savlian immediately regained his composure and helped finish off the attacker. Savlian nodded his thanks before setting off one more.

The battle was set at a gruelling pace, with no mercy given to any side of the battle. Slowly though, the bandits in the encampment were beginning to tighten together around the entrance of the Fort as the battling Kvatch soldiers continued to pressure them. Desperation clung to the eyes of the bandits as they vainly defended themselves, consistently falling to the Kvatch steel.

Savlian shouted encouragement to those around him to further their momentum. He began to notice that bandits were slowly filtering themselves through the entrance of Fort, as though they would find safety within its confines. Savlian realised that if Hlodir was anywhere, it would be within the Fort. Savlian intended Hlodir to fall to his sword, so he gathered those around him. Using their shields, they formed a human battering ram of sorts and charged through the bandits in their way to the Fort entrance.

Upon entering, the ram broke open as the Kvatch soldiers engaged those surrounding the entrance. Savlian ordered the entrance to the fort to be locked and blocked. No enemy was going to attack their rear. Savlian felt that only Ormellius would have the equipment capable to breach the doors. Savlian gathered his small force together.

“From here we take things slowly, I suggest to shed some of the armour so we can manoeuvre better. We’re the only ones in here, so don’t count on backup for a wile. We can only count on each other,” Savlian said quietly, peering down the hallway for signs of approaching trouble.

“Sir, I think we’re going to need to split up. Though we are a small force, we’re still too big to be travelling down these halls together,” one of the soldiers voiced.

Savlian nodded. “You’re right. I suggest groups of about 4-6. Once we find some forks, we’ll break off from each other. Everyone understand?” Savlian said, looking each man in the eye for comprehension. Satisfied, Savlian wiped the blood off his broadsword.

“Alright, let’s move out.”

Ah, excellent update. You are good with these fights.

What canis said. The detail in tactics was good. That battering ram thing, it makes me think of a tetsudo formation.

Well, I have full day work shifts for this week, so it's very likely I'll be making daily updates until Sunday. Hooray for everyone right? Enjoy!

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It wasn’t long before Savlian and his company reached the first fork in the road. The group silently broke in half with Savlian decided to take the path that led to an armoury station. Fortunately, the place was void of enemies for now. It was here that another fork spilt the group up even more. Savlian, with three soldiers in tow, decided to take a sloping corridor that seemly led to the bottom of the Fort. All the wile, echoing footsteps and the odd shout reverberated around them, masking their quiet tread.

Savlian was surprised to have not engaged any enemies so far as they continued down into the depths of the Fort. He didn’t know if he was walking into a trap, or was simply lucky so far. The three soldiers with them seemed to feel the same way, given their wary glances. They knew an outnumbered fight would be disastrous. Yet they still cautiously continued on down their chosen path, hoping they could accomplish what they sought out to do.

Their convenient luck finally disappeared when the thundering approach of multiple footsteps sounded from down the corridor. Savlian and his troops immediately held position at a choke point, a twist in the corridor that would initially hide them, and waited anxiously for their victims. Every eye gleamed with grim determination as the footsteps became louder and louder.

When brown leather of bandit armour came into view, Savlian swung out from his hiding position, lashing out with his broadsword and catching the bandit unawares. Two other bandits fell before they knew what happened before their partners tailing behind knew something was wrong. By then, it was a two against four battle that was quickly finished by Savlian and his men. Savlian turned to each soldier, silently checking to see if any of them were injured. They all nodded that they were fine and the party continued as pools of blood began to form around the dead bandits.

Their stealthy approached continued until Savlian heard the sound of voices; one of them sounded familiar as well. He called a halt and strained his ears to make out the conversation.

“Sir, from what I can tell the Fort has been breached. I’ve heard battling within these walls and in many places as well. It’s as if they’ve occupied every corridor,” a concerned voice stated.

“Divines be damned! I will not die down here! You go out there and you rush each and e’vry corridor! Terminate them like the rats they are!”

He’s just around the corner! Savlian thought as he edged his broadsword forward.

Savlian rushed the corner and ran into five armoured bandits, anticipating their attack. Savlian ducked below the horizontal slash of the first bandit and rammed into the group, causing him and the bandits to go crashing down to the floor. Fists and knives flashed and the soldiers managed to pull Savlian free and finish off the bandits as they struggled to get to their feet. Savlian brushed the blood forming across his cheek. Apparently, a knife had brushed against it.

Savlian proceeded ahead, disregarding his injury and his intent to find Hlodir increased. It just so happened in his determined march; he and the soldiers arrived at a lodging station. One that was currently being used.

Startled bandits rose from their cots, brandishing all sorts of weaponry. Savlian pushed the soldiers backwards back into the corridor. That way they wouldn’t be completely overwhelmed.

The bandits willingly followed Savlian into the corridor, only to quickly meet their demise to Savlian’s broadsword. The blades of the soldiers also provided ample protection for Savlian and destruction to their enemies as a steady stream of bandits forced them further back into the corridor.

Suddenly, a soldier collapsed to the ground, blood frothing from his mouth and a sword piercing his body. His comrade tried to go to his aid but the injured soldier waved him off as he struggled to his feet. Then, without any hesitation, the soldier charged recklessly into the horde of bandits, flailing his sword left and right. Savlian thought he saw at least three bandits fall before the soldier was finally taken down. Savlian gritted his teeth. That soldier was not going to die in vain.

It seemed the numbers of bandits were not going to stop, but Savlian noticed that some were beginning to change their attention to their rear. Something was attacking their rear! The bandits were caught between a hammer and an anvil. Savlian shouted a battle cry and applied new-found pressure on the bandits, who began to back up. Unfortunately for them, they were backing into more blades. Within minutes the last of the bandits were disposed of and Savlian found himself greeting the bloodied faces of one of the groups that had split off from them.

“Looks as though our paths eventually meet up once more,” a soldier said grinning.

“Any losses?” Savlian said in deep heaving breaths.

“None yet, just a couple of small injuries so far,” the soldier replied, looking back at his fellow soldiers just to make sure.

Savlian nodded as he examined his men, who looked exhausted but not seriously injured. He then noticed his men pulling out their fallen comrade from the bodies of fallen bandits. A slight pang of guilt struck Savlian then. He had disregarded stealth when he stormed into the lodging station, simply because he thought Hlodir would be there. Because of his carelessness, one of his men would not be leaving this place alive. He clenched his fist. There, he silently vowed to not make that mistake again.

“Let’s keep going,” Savlian said quietly as he headed towards the lodging station once more.

Upon arrival, Savlian turned to the soldier he had previously spoken with. “Where did you guys come from?” he asked, indicating the two other corridors.

The soldier pointed out which one they arrived from, so Savlian chose to enter the other one, with the familiar downward direction to it. Soon enough, voices were heard once again.

“Sir, we’re trapped down here! I suggest we yield.”

“Never! I will not bow down t’Savlian or that baffoon Ormellius! If you so much as think about dropping your weapon, I will skin your hide!”

It was then that sounds of steel on steel echoed down the corridor. A cry of pain shortly followed.

“You insolent fool! None may strike at me and live,” the Nordic voice spat.

Savlian stood around the corner of the next room, this time absolutely sure that Hlodir was ahead. He could see the long shadows of men within the room. Given their increased numbers, Savlian decided a charge would work this time.

“Now!” Savlian shouted and rushed into the room, stabbing the nearest bandit into his sternum, kicking him off his blade and stopping the strike of another bandit. The soldiers around him quickly engaged and began overwhelming the few bandits left. Once more Savlian stood in a room full of dead bodies and yet Hlodir was not among them.

Then applause reached his ears.

“Ah Savlian, tis good t’see you once more,” Hlodir said cheerfully as he walked out from a shaded corner.

Soldiers began to edge their way towards Hlodir but Savlian held them off, shaking his head. He then turned back to Hlodir.

“Face it, Hlodir, you’re finished. Put down your weapon,” Savlian said sternly.

Hlodir smiled slyly. “You don’t wanna arrest me. C’mon, we both know what you want t’do t’me. You gotta gimme that chance.”

A soldier leaned into Savlian’s ear. “Don’t do it, Captain. He’s got nothing to lose and you have everything. We’ve won! Let’s just leave it at that.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I made a vow to end this my way. I intend to keep it,” Savlian said to his troops, “No matter what happens, stay out of this until one of us is finished.”

Shocked expressions greeted him, but they all complied with their Captain’s wish. Savlian was grateful for that. He turned to a long sword brandishing Hlodir.

“Let’s finish this.”

Hmm, the final duel. Either Hlodir is nuts or he has a trick upon his sleeve. Who knows, his late mage friend might have left behind something nasty.

Great update Mallet!

Your gonna post machine it up too? Sweet....

Very nice updates MM. You indeed have skill with writing fight scenes. I honestly can't wait to see what Hlodir has up his sleeve.

**Sits silently in one of the corners, and debates on what the possible outcomes are.......**

So here's the duel. Enjoy and expect a visit from Simion in tomorrow's update!


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Hlodir grinned wickedly as he readied himself into his fighting stance while Savlian prepared himself as well. Savlian’s men stood in front of the only exit to the two rooms available, weapons ready to use should Savlian fall or Hlodir attempts an escape. Their expressions were grim, but a couple of them called out encouragement to their Captain.

Savlian circled Hlodir slowly, eyes fixed upon his target. Hlodir licked his lips expectantly.

“You know I’ve bested you in everything that we’ve both done. There will be no change this time,” Hlodir said confidently before snickering.

“Think what you will, Hlodir, but you should remember I nearly bested you when I was drunk. I wouldn’t be so confident,” Savlian said softly before engaging the attack with a darting thrust.

Hlodir parried the strike easily and countered with a thrust of his own. Savlian slid away from the attack and lashed out towards Hlodir’s feet, hoping the hamstring him. Hlodir managed to jump over the swinging steel and backed away, excitement and adrenaline dancing in his eyes.

“You can no hurt me, Savlian!” Hlodir said savagely and dived into a barrage of swipes on Savlian.

Savlian was forced to back up from the applied pressure by Hlodir, fending off blows from the left and right. If he didn’t change what was happening, he would be backed against the wall and basically would enter a desperate situation. So, Savlian parried Hlodir’s attack, pushing the blade downwards and charged into Hlodir. Both of them went crashing to the stone floor, armour and swords clattering loudly.

There, both men struggled between each other for position, seeking a dominant top position. As the two rolled around on the floor, Hlodir managed to slip out his ebony dagger. Savlian fortunately saw this and now fought against avoiding the potential stabbing Hlodir was hoping to issue.

Hlodir rolled Savlian so that he was on top of Savlian. Both men’s hands gripped the ebony dagger as Hlodir tried to drive it into Savlian while Savlian tried to resist it. The dagger shook under the exertion given off by the two opposing forces. Yet, the dagger was progressively lowering, drawing nearer, and nearer to Savlian. So close was it that Savlian could see the reflecting torchlight off the dark metal.

Hlodir growled in exertion as he applied his weight to the blade, all the while, Savlian men screamed encouragement, faces anxious now. Still, the dagger continued downward, despite Savlian’s efforts. His position was a disadvantage for this situation. He had to do something though, and as soon as he knew there was no way in stopping the descending dagger, he formulated his plan.

Savlian eased off his exertion on the dagger, allowing the dagger to descend more easily. By now, the soldiers were frantically urging Savlian on. Hlodir began to grin, saliva clinging to the corners of his mouth as he saw victory to be close at hand. But just when he thought he had it, since the resistance was all but gone, Savlian shifted Hlodir’s hands. The dagger clanged against the solid stone floor and Savlian delivered an elbow to Hlodir’s all ready injured nose.

Hlodir recoiled backwards and off of Savlian in pain, clutching at his face as Savlian rolled away and picked up his broadsword. He immediately pressed the attack on Hlodir, hoping his watering eyes would provide a hindrance in his ability to fight and defend. Somehow, Hlodir recovered quickly from the elbow and deftly defended himself from Savlian’s flurry. What he didn’t expect though was a swift kick to the stomach by Savlian.

The force of the blow staggered Hlodir backwards against the wall, the air blasting out of his lungs. Savlian aimed a thrust to Hlodir’s heart, thoughts of finishing it entering his mind. Again, Hlodir dodged the attack as Savlian approached the wall due to his attack. Hlodir took advantage of this and punched Savlian in the face with a meaty fist.

Savlian’s mind flashed and black flecks entered his vision as he backed away from his opponent in hopes to recover. Hlodir issued a roar and charged at the Captain. Savlian ducked under the heavy horizontal slash and used Hlodir’s momentum to toss him over his back and onto a nearby bench. The bench exploded into fragments of debris as Hlodir crashed through it.

Savlian engaged his fallen opponent with an overhead chop that only met a jarring hit against the floor as Hlodir rolled away and regained his feet. They were back a square one.

Hlodir chuckled dryly and wiped the blood from underneath his nose. “Heh, I guess ya could say I underestimated you a wee bit.”

Savlian decided to try to reason with the Nord once more. “Give it up, Hlodir. We don’t need to continue this.”

“Why would I want t‘do that? So you could just execute me publicly for the population. T’ease their paranoid minds as they watch me head roll off like a pig! No! I will die trying t’kill the one I hate the most! You!” Hlodir spat and charged in once more.

Savlian had had enough. As Hlodir raced towards him, Savlian quickly took out his silver dagger, ducked under Hlodir’s swooping attack, and plunged the dagger deep into Hlodir’s knee. The attack caused Hlodir to yell out in pain and collapse to the floor clumsily

Calmly rising back to normal height, Savlian walked over to the Nord bent over in pain, clutching at his knee. Blood ran freely between the grimy hands of the Nord. As Savlian’s shadow enveloped Hlodir it caused the Nord to look up.

“May the Divines judge you appropriately,” Savlian said solemnly as he raised his sword.

Hlodir’s eyes stared straight into Savlian’s as the sword plunged into him. There they remained until they glazed over in death. No sound of pain escaped his lips for that whole moment.

Savlian removed the sword and cleaned off the bloodied blade. His men looked to him, a solemn silence permeating from them all. It was Savlian who broke this silence.

“Let’s head on out.”

Spectacular!

**Standing Ovation!!**

In the end, Savlian still had a trick, or dagger, up his sleeve. Great work.

Great story, I enjoy reading it and look forward to the next update.

indeed you have a great talent for describing battles and fighting....so vivid and ..ehhh bloody! So great Mallie...just so intriguing, I´ve got a lot to learn from you!

Great duel scene MM, can't wait for more of the story.

Well, I guess tomorrow turned out to be *cough* almost a week, so I apologise for any of those I misled. To make up for that, here's an update. One which I hope my loyal readers will find quite intriguing. Enjoy!


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While Savlian was busy marching his way to Fort Falkrek, Simion was attempting to deal with the current threat upon him. The situation was grave if the Archmaster himself was in Kvatch and speaking with him. Like all assassins, he knew that Sethyas didn’t visit him to ask about the whereabouts of Lavos; there was more to it than that. He knew Sethyas was sizing him up, or possibly looking for something else entirely. His eyes landed on his bloodied gloves underneath his table.

That was what he was looking for; proof that Simion was responsible for the murders. Well he certainly found a credible source in the gloves, but there were other possible sources as well. He had dealt with one of them. That rat Madsen was not going to open his mouth anymore. But there had to be others as well. Somehow Savlian had linked him with the murder of Lavos, but he had no clue of how. Someone must’ve noticed his meetings with Lavos; whether it was at the taverns or his home Simion didn’t know. He was going to find out as soon as possible. He would need to before the Morag Tong found them.

It seemed that luck was shining on him today as his answer was found sooner than expected. In fact it was answered shortly after he stepped out of his home. He was just closing his door when he looked across the street to find Bernise tending to her garden. Bernise was perhaps the only person he had a modest relationship with, as they had spoken before. He began to approach her home in hopes of greeting her, but when she looked up and saw him a familiar look crossed her eyes. The same look that Madsen gave him the other night.

Hurt feelings rose up within him, but Simion hid it well. He smiled warmly to Bernise.

“Good morning, Bernise. Enjoying the fair weather for once?”

Bernise rose from the ground slowly, brushing of the dark, brown earth from her knees. She hesitantly forced a smile of her own.

“Good morning to you as well, Simion,” she said in an unsteady voice and paused momentarily, “I’m sorry, but I need to see to some things inside.”

With that, she quickly gathered up her gardening equipment and entered her home, shutting the door with a hurried force.

Simion frowned. It seemed she was the one who knew of Lavos. Regrettable as it was, he was going to have to make sure she didn’t speak to anyone else about Lavos.

The familiar sensation of the Voice’s arrival left Simion’s stomach roiling.

“It’s about time you started figuring things out on your own. She has to die before she opens her mouth once more!”

Simion nodded slowly as he walked away from Bernise’s home. Somehow, the day just didn’t seem so bright now.

Simion was just about to enter his home when his hand stopped halfway from reaching the door handle. Shock rippled down his body as he realised just what he had done. He had complied to the Voice’s wishes without resistance. He had willingly decided that Bernise had to die, without any goading whatsoever from the Voice.

Was the idea that logical? Or could it be that the Voice had broken him now? Was he simply a shell of what he used to be? These questions went racing through his mind as he stood transfixed before his door.

“Open the door! Do you want people to be more suspicious then they all ready are?” the Voice hissed, snapping Simion from his frozen state.

Simion entered his home and managed to slump into a chair. Everything he did seemed to take so much more effort. He felt drained and lost, his mind drifting off in every direction with no focus.

Simion’s vision began to blur, as if a haze was enveloping his sight. Simion knew he wanted to fight against it, yet his concentration was broken, lacking focus as it drifted aimlessly in the depths of his mind. It was as if he had lost completely control of his body.

Simion could feel the haze growing more and more powerful, and his sense on consciousness slipping. Try as he might, it couldn’t be stopped. He was caught in a battle that he was completely helpless in fighting. The last discernable thing Simion noticed before the haze consumed him was his own voice. The frightening part was that he knew he was incapable of forming these words, yet there they were, echoing against the walls of his empty home.

“It’s time to do things my way.”




It was as if he was having an out of body experience, only much more twisted and convoluted. Simion found himself looking down upon himself in his chair. The world around him was cast in swirling shades of grey. Nothing seemed solid, as if he was floating in some sort of imaginary sea.

Simion was still busy trying to comprehend what was going on when he noticed his body moving. It moved purposely to his wardrobe, where it began changing into his “night time” attire. It seemed that everywhere his body went, he was forced to follow unwillingly. Simion witnessed his body unsheathing one of his daggers and checking the blade for signs of damage before sheathing it once more.

What am I doing? Is this some sort of dream?

Simion didn’t know the answer to his questions, but his body decided to sneak out the back door of his home. Simion noticed that the sky held two large orbs in the air, swirling in the inky haze he was trapped in. Somehow, between his fadeout and this out of body experience, daylight had long since disappeared. Yet, Simion didn’t feel like the transition was that long, as if the transition to where he was now had only taken moments.

Simion’s focus returned to his body, which was now carefully travelling through the empty street before it slipped through the backyard of one of his neighbour’s home. The eyes of his body were the only things that didn’t shimmer and sway in this world. They were perfectly clear, and horrible. The expression within those eyes showed a lethal determination. A complete disregard of life except for one’s own life encompassed them as well.

Seeing that expression would’ve sent shivers down Simion’s spine if he could’ve felt it. It suddenly dawned on him what was being done here. His body was paying Bernise a visit. Simion could see his body’s eyes fixed upon the serene looking house not too far from his own.

With slick agility and speed, Simion watched his body stealthily enter Bernise’s backyard. His body calmly inspected the windows and doors of the home, probably looking for signs of Bernise being awake.

Seemly satisfied with its observations, Simion’s body began to pick the lock of Bernise’s back door. All the while, Simion could only watch helplessly as the inevitable was rapidly descending upon Bernise.

She was only doing what was right. I deserve to be punished!

Simion’s body ignored his mental cries and quickly popped the lock. The door opened soundlessly and the body proceeded into the house, virtually dragging Simion along. He did not want to see what was bound to happen. Yet try as he might, he could not escape whatever was keeping him bound to following his body.

Simion was forced to watch as his body ascended the stairs carefully, followed by a short sneak down the hallway and into Bernise’s bedroom where a petit lump rested in the bed.

Simion desperately tried to pry his eyes away from his body inching its way towards Bernise, but he had no eyelids to conceal the events unfolding before him. Nor did he have the ability to flee from the scene. He felt utterly helpless.

It was then that his body unsheathed his dagger. It was that moment that Simion noticed new feelings in his body’s crystal clear eyes. Excitement, expectation, even pleasure were mixed with the previous expressions in those eyes.

The body rose from the crouch that it had travelled the entire distance so far. Its hand shot out to clamp upon the mouth of Bernise, whose eyes bulged at the sudden pressure upon her face and glistened in fear at the sight before her. A low, muffled moan managed to escape through the gloved fingers of his body’s hand.

The body brought his hand holding the dagger to his face. Resting an index finger against its lips, the body signalled for silence.

“Shhhh, Bernise. I’m only here to keep those pretty lips of yours closed. Permanently,” the body said in a croaked whisper before plunging the dagger into Bernise’s abdomen.

Simion would’ve quivered at seeing Bernise shudder from the impact of the blade, but he had to body to quiver in. Crimson began to bloom from the wound. Somehow he could see the blood in this grey world he was stuck in. The splash of colour was all the more vivid due to its stark contrast to the world he could see.

Delight sparkled in his body’s eyes as it withdrew the blade from her body, rivulets of blood sliding down the darkened metal. Bernise, ever one to cling to life, tried to free herself from her constricting sheets and call out for help. The body’s hand was still firmly across her mouth though, which also kept her from moving too much.

Simion loss count of the number of times the dagger descended down into Bernise’s body. He knew it didn’t take long for her moans of pain to stop, and yet, the blade still descended. The sound of it was torture upon Simion’s imaginary ears; the sight of the blood was burning his imaginary eyes.

Finally, the attacks stopped and the body stood over what was once a living person. Drops of blood fell from the dagger held loosely to the body’s side. Simion could see his body’s eyes drinking up the scene before it, relishing every bloody moment of it. Simion watched as the body caressed Bernise’s cheek with his dagger, leaving a crimson smudge. Simion felt he was going to vomit from such a display.

A wry smile cracked the body’s lips as it wiped the dagger cleaned, sheathed it, and then proceeded to exit the house the same way it came. It even locked the door on its way out. All the while, the only thought running through Simion’s mind was this can’t be real… This can’t be real… This can’t…



Simion’s eyes fluttered up and he gasped aloud and stood bolt upright from his chair. He looked around and found himself back in his home, sunlight peeking through the closed drapes of his windows.

“It was a dream,” Simion said breathlessly as it only seemed moments had passed since he blacked out.

It was then that he looked down and saw himself decked out in his night time attire. The black leather was covered in dried blood. Simion felt like retching all over again as that all too familiar feeling rose up within his mind.

“Hope you enjoyed last night’s show,” the Voice cackled as Simion stared down in mute horror at himself.

Hmm, I hate to say it but that Voice can probably function even with Simion death. What is needed here is a supernatural way of dealing with the problem. Mere steel won't work. Dang, that Voice is getting nastier every time.

Nice display in the 'dream' scene with the contrast between the grey and the red. And yes, I realize it wasn't a dream. It just sounds right to call it so.

Edit: I think you might be forced to start a new thread. You're getting close to the post limit.

That was freaky. He's totally losing control... scary stuff. I guess Simion really needs help now.

Uhhh......jeezers.....gulp, that was....bloody? And aye....you´ll have to start another thread pretty soon I gather...

My my Mallie, you are one of a kind!

Hehe, glad to see the reactions I got from that post. To celebrate, I think it's safe to assume that this will be my last update post for this thread... Wow 10 pages of this stuff, I'm quite amazed. But do not fear, Bloodlust will continue on it's next thread! Here's the thread closer!


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Savlian was surprised to see dawn’s morning light beginning to pierce the sky when he stepped out of the entrance of Fort Falkrek. He didn’t think it would’ve taken the whole night to accomplish vanquishing Hlodir, but that seemed to be the case. That simple sight made Savlian also realise how exhausted he was.

That exhaustion was partially lifted as he saw the signs of victory surrounding him as the soldiers of Kvatch were celebrating victory. It seemed that many of them were happy to relieve the bandits of their booze, as many of them looked as if they had spent the remainder of the night drinking. One of them even stumbled up to the captain and handed him a bottle of brandy; a drunken smile fully enveloped his face.

Savlian smiled and cheerfully clapped his hand against the soldier and accepted the bottle of brandy. He took a hearty swig before passing the bottle to one of the soldiers that went into the Fort with him. Wiping his mouth, he thanked those around him and told the soldiers that travelled into the Fort with him to meet him in a day’s time in Kvatch where they were to be rewarded appropriately for their courage. His promise was greeted with eager and happy faces.

Dismissing himself from his men, Savlian went in search of Ormellius. He actually found him with the soldiers left to guard the bandits who decided to yield to the Kvatch soldiers. It was a smart decision, though they would be put into jail for a time, it certainly seemed better than death.

When Ormellius noticed Savlian, a great smile beamed across his hardened face and he gripped Savlian’s forearm graciously. Savlian returned the grip himself.

“Glad to see you’ve made it! I take it that our “problem” is solved?” Ormellius asked, before breaking down and chuckling to his little wise crack.

Savlian couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Yes, sir. Your “problem” has been taken care of,” Savlian replied, going along with the joke.

Ormellius motioned for Savlian to follow him as he led Savlian away from the battlegrounds. With their fun done, Ormellius returned to his usual serious self.

“If you had taken much longer, I would’ve knocked down that door and got you. Whether Hlodir was dead or not wouldn’t have mattered. I’m glad that he’s dealt with though,” Ormellius added before going silent a moment, “How many casualties did you have?”

“Only one. How did we fair out here?” Savlian inquired.

Ormellius turned back to face the scene of the battle. Despite the overall good feeling of victory, Ormellius still bore the burden of those men who lost their lives during the night. He could see, even at the distance they stood, the men assigned the duty to search through the bodies of the dead for soldiers of Kvatch.

“Last time I checked, we had 50 men lost, though I estimate we’re probably around a hundred now. It’s going to take most of the morning to bury the bodies and prepare transports for our dead and wounded; I suggest you get some rest while that happens. I am not going to burden you with duty such as that,” Ormellius said, avoiding any display of emotion whatsoever.

Savlian thanked the Count for the relief of duty, but despite being tired, he didn’t immediately go to a tent made up for him. Instead, he made a quick tour of the battle, observing those celebrating the victory, to those assigned the task of searching through the bloody battleground for their own men, some of which the searchers were bound to know. He even visited the captured men, whose eyes were all downcast to the ground; all ready accepting their confinement as armed pikemen kept guard around them. It was after all that that Savlian decided to rest.



Savlian was a bit surprised to find two of his men waiting exclusively for his arrival when the army arrived back to Kvatch after an uneventful journey.

Can they not even look after the city for two days? Savlian thought bitterly as he waved his men to him.

“We’re glad to see you survived the battle, sir. Unfortunately, we have a bit of an urgent situation that we think you should look at,” the foremost Guardsman said in a voice mixed with embarrassment and relief.

“What could possibly be so urgent?” Savlian said, his words slightly heated at the inconvenience of the discussion.

“Well, it has to do with the case you’ve been following. We’ve found another body; murdered in her own home this time,” the other Guard said regretfully.

Savlian reeled on the inside. Again!?

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. Indeed, you’ve done the right thing,” Savlian said apologetically, “Now, take me to where this scene is.”

His men led him away from the army procession and quickly into town. They took a quick route through side streets and alleyways until eventually Savlian noticed that they were entering the middle class residential district of the town. The district that Simion lived in.

Before he knew it, he was walking right past Simion’s home. He could feel almost a foreign, cold essence exuding from the home. His eyes stood fixed on the place, looking for signs of life.

“Sir? This is the place,” one of the guards said, snapping Savlian gaze.

“Oh!” Savlian said, slightly startled. His gaze then fell on the house. “Oh….”

Savlian stood before the quaint little home of Bernise. The woman who had noticed Simion supposedly removing a body from his home. The woman who Savlian had told that nothing would happen to her.

“Well…. Let’s head on in.”



As soon as Savlian saw Bernise’s bedroom, he immediately recoiled from the scene; he was too shocked and hurt to actually see what was there. One of the guards approached Savlian and asked if he was okay. Savlian simply waved him off. He needed to actually see the crime scene.

The scene was a bloody one. Bernise’s torso was savagely attacked, yet everything else seemed undamaged, the only blemish being a smug of blood wiped against her cheek. She looked frightfully pale, almost as if she was a doll. It sickened Savlian, that someone would do this. And now he was certain who was responsible. There was no coincidences that could change his mind. In fact, his previous thoughts disclaiming Simion was at fault for Madsen’s murder was just wishful thinking.

Simion was removing those who could incriminate him. He had broken his vow to avoid killing. He was going to pay. Savlian was going to ensure it.

Savlian had been so focused on defeating Hlodir, his personal grudge getting the best of him that Simion managed to kill freely once more. Now Savlian was paying for it with the death of someone he assured would be safe. He had to stop this madness once and for all.

He needed to plan a visit with Simion.

So true! My god this is intriguing...Now I´m closing this thread, and let´s hope this story continues in another one!

Keep posting MM!

And here is the LINK to the continuation of this great story!