Oh yeah....I think good writers could make up any excuse....the readers would wait patiently anyway! And you are a good writer! hehe I like your picture of a tired Sethyas! This story is a good read....I enjoyed it very much.

Nice update! It's well worth the wait, Mallet.

That was an interesting meeting.

I've been thinking about it, and Simion may be a worse enemy than Dagoth Ur. Why? Simple, Dagoth Ur never moved. You knew where he was at all times and you could trust him to do nothing while you planned for his demise and worked on your skills. Sure, there was the occasional Ash zombie but those weren't much trouble if you knew what you were doing.

Simion on the other hand, is stealthy and downright ruthless. He'll do anything to get the advantage before engaging in combat. And worst of all, he's moving.

My thoughts exactly Jack. And as you'll find out with this update, you see why Simion is dangerous to Sethyas... and pretty much everyone! Enjoy!


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

“Look at him…Strutting out of that place as if he owns it!” the Voice spat disdainfully within Simion’s head, “I could crush him like an ant!”

Simion crept behind the chimney of the home he stood upon, his nimble feet cradling the thatch roof with ease. Even though it was not even dark yet, his recent attack of the Tong assassins looking for him had emboldened him, pressuring him into more risky situations. Anything to help sedate the waves of pain the Voice would conjure up, Simion would do. The only thing that seemed to please it unfortunately was blood, battle, or risking his very own life. So even though he was escaping the Voice’s pain, he was only trading it in for a different pain of sorts. It was certainly more bearable, but damaging all the same. Simion absently wondered what kind of wreck his looked like. He hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror for quite some time. He could picture his haggard face in his mind. He could see his cheeks sunken from mal-nourishment, his face deathly pale, and his eyes sporting heavy, dark circles. It was a face of agony, a face of pain. A face of the monster he had become.

The Voice snickered. “Here you go again self deprecating. It would be amusing if I didn’t have to witness it every day. We have a task to do; get to it!”

Simion followed the Voice’s wish, using the rooftops to remain hidden from the red robed Dunmer below. None of his thoughts strayed from the task at hand. This was a crucial moment for him. If he took out Sethyas, he was more than certain that the Tong would likely stop their pursuit. He would then only have to worry about Savlian and the Kvatch guard; a much simpler task Simion thought.

Below, Sethyas turned left into a narrow and unused side street. Now was the time to strike. With a mighty bound, Simion leapt from one rooftop, crossed the road, and landed upon the rooftop on the opposite side. Simion cursed mentally as he realised his jump wasn’t as graceful as he hoped for since he feet clattered against the tiles of the new rooftop. Looking down, Simion noticed the Grand Master pause. Immediately Simion backed away from the ledge, his breath held anxiously as he waited for signs of discovery. Finally, after a few agonising moments, Simion heard footsteps from below. Unsheathing his dagger, a sly smile crept across Simion’s face. It was time.

Leaning over the edge, Simion could see Sethyas slightly ahead of him. Simion snaked down a rain water drain and softly touched feet upon the cobblestones. The Voice urged him on, demanding that blood be spilt. Simion desperately wanted it to. His grip tightened against the blade handle. He was now only feet away from Sethyas’ back. He arched the blade. Simion wrapped an arm around Sethyas, knife poised to slash into the Dunmer’s throat.

Suddenly, Simion found himself on his back, his head sundering in pain. Instincts kicked in as he rolled away from a descending dagger. Simion kicked out as he regained his feet, knocking back his opponent. The Voice screamed in dismay at the lost opportunity.

“You’re going to have to do better than that to catch me unawares, Simion,” Sethyas claimed, his Black Hands Dagger gripped in his hand.

“Do you honestly think I was trying?” Simion shot back, attempting to regain confidence after his embarrassing failure.

Sethyas didn’t answer as he lunged in for an attack, the Black Hands Dagger appearing to be a blur in his hands. Simion intercepted each attack with his own dagger. In a dagger fight, everything was extremely close quartered; someone was bound to get cut sooner or later. The advantage was in Sethyas’ hands though, since Simion knew the enchantment that coated the Black Hands Dagger. The thing can suck the life right out of you with just a scratch.

Simion engaged Sethyas once more, landing an elbow strike right to the jaw of the master assassin. Sethyas staggered back, dazed by the blow. Simion launched a leaping kick that caught Sethyas square in the chest, propelling him straight into the brick wall enclosing the street. Simion thrust his blade into Sethyas, only to feel it glance off the concealed armour Sethyas was wearing. Shocked, Sethyas managed to narrowly cut Simion across the cheek.

Simion fell backwards, gasping as the enchantment of the dagger sapped the health from him. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Sethyas was carefully getting back to his feet. His face was a mask of grim determination. Simion’s eyes gazed upwards where he was a bird drift across the blue clear sky. In his weakened state he knew that he was no match for the virtually uninjured Sethyas. Only the inevitable awaited him.

“I am not going to sit here and watch that happen!”

Simion found himself yet again suspended above himself in the hazy, grey cast world. He could his body surge to his feet just as Sethyas prepared the final stroke to end his life. His body caught the descending arm mid strike, instantly stopping the attack. Shock and confusion registered in Sethyas eyes as he stared into the malevolent grin of the Voice. Almost with ease, Simion body managed to toss aside Sethyas, who instinctively rolled with the fall and regained his feet easily. Simion’s body simply stood there, patiently waiting for Sethyas to make the next move.

Sethyas exchanged his Black Hands Dagger for a mean looking Daedric katana, hoping to use the length of the deadly weapon to his advantage. Sethyas charged in and swiped horizontally. Simion’s body ducked under the attack and shoulder charged right into Sethyas. Air exploded out of Sethyas’ lungs as he was tackled to the floor. Simion’s body stood up and kicked the fallen assassin, buckling him even further.

Simion watched his body brush away the crimson staining his cheek, a wry smirk now crossing his face. “Get up, Sethyas, there’s still plenty of fight left in ya,” the Voice said mockingly.

Sethyas struggled to his feet and forced his sword into a guard position. Simion’s body casually stalked around Sethyas, his eyes full of disdain and contempt. His body feinted and Sethyas flinched, causing the Voice to chuckle. Sethyas tried to lunge in for an attack, his katana was sent whistling towards Simion’s head. Simion calmly ducked under this attack and swiftly punched Sethyas right in the nose, snapping the Dunmer’s head backwards. Crimson now trickled from the nose of Sethyas, who absently brushed it away as he thought of a new approach.

Still, Simion’s body decided to wait for Sethyas to act first. Sethyas answered this by swinging his katana yet again at Simion’s head, only this time he swiftly followed the attack with a kick that caught Simion right in the jaw. Simion’s head snapped back and fell to the floor. Sethyas went for an overhead chop, yet somehow Simion’s body recovered enough that catch the attack in both of his daggers, held in a pincher formation. Simion’s body kicked Sethyas’ feet from under him and he managed to get back to his feet.

Now, Simion’s body decided to press the attack, as he used both his daggers simultaneously. The daggers looked like a whirlwind as swiped at Sethyas. Sethyas was defending the attack well until one of the daggers caught his forearm, causing him to drop his sword. He then resorted to ducking and weaving, which didn’t work at well. Fortunately his armour was providing enough protection against the silver daggers. Sparks flew as each blow struck the armour with such force.

He has him finished. It won’t be long now…

It just so happened that at that instant, a cry rose from down the street. Several Town Guard were heading towards the fight. Simion’s body caught sight of this and frowned sadly. He kicked Sethyas down to floor yet again.

“Consider yourself lucky, Archmaster, next time I’ll make sure you don’t survive,” the Voice said coldly as he withdrew a throwing knife. Once the Guardsmen were within range, Simion’s body threw the knife, which expertly entered into the throat of the closest guard. Flinging himself backwards into the other guards, the dying guard gurgled on his blood in horror. It was at this moment that Simion’s body took the advantage and fled.

As his body was fleeing, Simion managed to look back and see the guards huddling over Sethyas and the dying. The grey world only enhanced their expressions of dismay and horror. Even from this distance, the crimson blood still stood out like a beacon.

And all Simion could think was “Damn, we didn’t get him!”

Duuuulce!

??????

Not quite sure what that means, Black, my friend.

It means something nice..it just has to...because this update was indeed a ...well not exactly nice n´but well written as always.....go for it Mallie!

Dulce is Sweet in spanish.

Duuulce = Sweeeet.

Ahhh I just thought it meant something like that! Well I agree anyway

Sweet indeed... and it seems that the voice is somehow more skilled than Simion, or perhaps fully unlocks his deadly potential. Quite chilling.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oooohhh. Yes, yes I have....

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

And I thought Sethyas looked bad…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why were you about to kill yourself then?”

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you’ll look at it?” Taris asked.

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

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

AWE-some!! Keep it up mally!!

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taris nodded. “I can do that.”

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

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

“Good luck, Genille,” Taris said kindly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Simion shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not chastise me!”

“Rah’mirr does what he pleases!”

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

“Furball! Rah’mirr will –“

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

sweet jebus, that took forever to update!! But it was well worth the wait!

Yup....finally I read it through....and I agree with the previous commenters....I can see a great ending coming on! I like that you use Seth ..you depict him very well.

Keep it coming!

Well, I'll see if I can keep up with steady updates. I have a feeling though that it might be difficult for me to keep to my weekly update schedule at least until school ends at the moment. Things are really busy with final projects and ISUs that need to be completed before study for exams begin. After I'm done these projects and ISUs, I should be able to stick to my weekly update schedule. I might even be able to update more frequently than once a week when school is done.

But for this week, I don't have an update for you guys unfortunately. I have lots of philosophy and film work to do today and tomorrow. Once my film ISU (Independant Study Unit) in my other film class is completed I should have more time for writing and won't be exhausted. Lots of writing is involved with ISUs so when my normal writing time arrives, I'm just too sick of writing on a computer to feel motivated to be creative.

Hopefully my haitus on this story won't last for too long. Again I apologise for those who dillegently follow this story. I always appreciate all the pleased feedback from you guys. I will finish it, I've gotten WAY too far to not complete this.

All right, time to continue this thing after another unfortunate hiatus. Writing this one made me realize I still got the motivation to get this sucker done. I can feel this ending drawing near and I got mixed feelings towards it. On one hand I would finally finish it. The idea I had so long ago and had started twice on two separate occasions (at the time I didn't have it TES related) would actually be completely written. On the other hand, I've been enjoying writing this story so much that I'm afriad that any future work won't bring that same joy.

I have a feeling though that whatever I decide to write next, if it gets the same reception as Bloodlust did here, I'm sure I'll enjoy writing it.

But enough of my emotional banter. I'm sure you guys want to read the next update. Here it is:



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Simion slumped against the alley wall in exhaustion. During his escape from Sethyas and Savlian, he had managed to wrestle back control from the Voice. Now the full effects of the dagger that had entered his shoulder were being felt. He knew he had to get back to his hideout. The potions required to treat his wound were lying in wait for him there.

Groaning, Simion forced himself to continue on. The world briefly spun as pain laced through his arm, stifling all other feelings. He could feel his blood trickling down his arm since his sleeve was saturated with the warm fluid. But at least he was drawing near his destination. It wouldn’t be long before this problem was dealt with.

Clumsily, Simion hauled himself up the ladder to his hideout with his good arm. After an excruciating minute, he pulled himself inside his secret attic hideout, his breaths ragged from exertion. To weak to stand, Simion crawled along the floor to the cabinet where he kept his potions. After opening it, Simion scanned the contents of the cabinet. Not finding the correct potion immediately, Simion scattered the contents within along the floor. Combing through the contents on the floor, desperation started clinging to Simion, as there didn’t seem to be any potions to help his wound. His breathing became more frantic as bottles were knocked far away in frustration and fear. After a few frightful moments, Simion located a bottle and greedily drained the contents. He shuddered as he felt the flesh knit itself back together over the deep dagger wound.

Simion slumped against the far wall of the attic, relieved that he would be okay but exhausted from the fight in conjunction with healing the wound. Before he could stop himself, sleep overtook him.



Silently, Simion’s pursuers followed the trail the assassin left for them. Both Sethyas and Savlian were silent, constantly expecting to run into the assassin around the next bend. Sethyas, the fresher of the two, took the lead while Savlian tailed closely behind. Savlian knew he was a bit out of his element with a stealth mission of this proportion. Beside him stood a master of the trade so why not take advantage of that?

Sethyas stopped beside a particularly large patch of blood. Obviously Simion had rested there for a few moments. Sethyas noted that the trail continued after the spot, but he hung back, ensuring that the area was safe. Satisfied with his inspection, he waved Savlian along as they proceeded deeper into the alley.

It didn’t them long to find that the trail went up a ladder. What seemed peculiar was that this ladder appeared to go to nowhere. It simply ended three quarters of the way up the building. Sethyas moved away from the scene beckoning Savlian to follow.

Slightly annoyed that they were backtracking, Savlian tried to speak. “Seth—“

The Dunmer cut him off with a glare and kept moving backwards. After they put a building between the ladder and them, Sethyas turned around.

“I wanted to get away from that ladder before we could speak,” Sethyas explained softly.

“Okay, what for?”

“I know Simion is up there somewhere. I could just feel it,” Sethyas answered; his expression set in an unreadable expression.

“You think he jumped onto the rooftop?” Savlian offered, “Seems unlikely given that wound.”

Sethyas nodded. “You’re right. He couldn’t have jumped onto the rooftop from there. He didn't simply disappear either… I’m afraid one of us is going to have to take a risk.”

Savlian pondered the notion. “Climb the ladder and see from that perspective you mean?”

“Exactly. Problem is that Simion could simply be waiting for that. Whoever goes would basically be a sitting duck.”

“I’ll go.”

“No. I should go.”

“This is my town, and this is my problem. I’m the one who should be taking risks here.”

“You wouldn’t know if Simion is preparing to attack you or anything. I have the chance to see the warning signs before you, Savlian.”

Savlian looked away from Sethyas and thought on the subject. Finally he nodded his head. “Go on. I’ll keep on eye on you and shout if I see anything,” he said reluctantly.

Sethyas patted the Captain’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said as he withdrew the Black Hands Dagger and went back to the ladder. Savlian followed behind, his keen eyes searching for possible threats.

Sethyas twirled his dagger absent-mindedly as he peered at his surroundings, guessing where Simion could lay lurking. Whatever possessed the Breton was just as crafty as Simion so the possibility of a trap didn’t escape Sethyas’ thoughts. His dagger twirling stopped and Sethyas proceeded to creep to the ladder. Savlian stayed near the opposite wall, his eyes busy as well.

Using one arm, Sethyas began to climb the ladder, the other held his dagger, poised to strike should the opportunity call. At each rung, Sethyas paused, careful to not make any sound. Savlian silently urged the Dunmer to proceed quicker as Sethyas’ approach was torturing his patience. Sethyas made it two thirds of the way up before he decided to drop from the ladder. Startled, Savlian walked to Sethyas and was about to ask him what was going on but Sethyas grabbed him and started dragging him away from the alleyway.

After exiting the alleyway Sethyas finally stopped his jog. A frustrated Savlian stopped beside him.

“What the hell happened back there?” Savlian asked heatedly.

“I heard noise within. I didn’t want Simion to see us so we left. There’s a niche in the wall that the alleyway hides from the ground. He’s inside that building,” Sethyas answered, a smile on his face.

Savlian grinned, his anger quickly forgotten. “Well then, let’s go put him away!” he said enthusiastically.

“No. Not yet.”

Savlian turned and faced the assassin, a puzzled look on his face. “And why not? We know where he is. He’s in a weakened state and if we get inside his hideout, he’s not going to escape!” he asked, his anger quickly returning.

“Because,” Sethyas returned calmly, “We need Taris here to show us how to defeat him. It’s been a week, he should be back anytime now.”

Savlian massaged his temples. “You need to be shown how to defeat him?” he asked incredulously. “Here, I’ll show you. You take this-“ he pulled out his broadsword, “-and you stabbed it into his heart!”

Sethyas sighed in an exasperated tone. “You don’t understand. We’re dealing with something that’s beyond flesh and blood. Something has… invaded Simion’s body and it has caused all these problems in your city.”

Savlian slammed his broadsword back into his scabbard. “You know what? I don’t care what you think. I don’t care if the incarnate of Mehrunes Dagon presides within him. Steel has been hurting him, so steel is going to kill him! I don’t need you to tell me how to use a sword and now that I know where Simion is. I’m going to take a squad of men and take him out,” he said with finality, “Good-day to you Sethyas. It has been a pleasure working with you but I’m afraid that we’re going to have to do things our separate ways.”

With that, Savlian abruptly walked off. Sethyas stared off at him, incredulous that he was simply used by the Imperial.

“Why didn’t I expect this to happen? He is an Imperial after all,” he said to the air. Though the Captain had offended him, he had more important things to do. He needed to see if Taris had come back yet. If so, the young Dunmer likely would be waiting at “The Flying Bosmer” so Sethyas decided he would look there first.

Tsk, Tsk, Captain Savlian, no appreciation for things of a supernatural nature........ That could get a lot of subordinates killed, you know..... *Sing-songs the last sentence*

Why oh why do I have the feeling that the guards are going to get slaughtered?

After you've finished Bloodlust, I will be looking forward to your next piece. I'm sure it will be a good one.

Oh man, the ending is so close now... but what will Savlian do? Will Sethyas and Taris be able to meet (and form their own plan of attack) in time?

wow. I just caught up and i'd like to say that your story is awesome.

It's a shame that Savlian is so darned ignorant.

Your so close, i can't wait to see how it all ends.

I have to agree with SoulSeeker, our favorite guard Captain needs to use his head for more than errant thoughts (harsh, I know). He needs to develope an appreciation for things greater than himself (not devines) or beyond his understanding.

Well after another respite, I'm back with a small update, but an update nonetheless. If I've planned everything the way I think I have, I think there might be between 3-5 updates left depending on how I work things out. Exciting isn't it? I'm nearly finished this beast of a story! I'm shocked. Over a year of writing and it's nearly drawing to a close. Hopefully you will enjoy the ending I have planned for you (I all ready know how I want to end it, which is probably a good thing). Anyways, let's continue the story!


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After a brief respite, Savlian awoke in the twilight hours before dawn to ready his men. The mountainous height left the town of Kvatch at its chilliest at this time of the morning as the sun had yet to truly rise over the horizon. Only an indigo blotch of colour could be seen when Savlian peered to the east. Yet the cold did not matter as Savlian’s soldier tactics told him that if anytime was the most opportune to attack, it would be shortly before dawn. Hopefully Simion would be too content or tired to expect an attack at this time.

As Savlian entered the courtyard of the Kvatch castle, his squad all ready stood waiting for him; tendrils of warmed air waiving from their faces. Savlian stopped in front of the row of lightly armoured men and mer and snapped a salute. The squad members returned the gesture. Savlian studied the faces of his squad. Each displayed the hard determination that Savlian wanted them to had, but when he looked closely he could tell that there was apprehension, nervousness, and even fear dwelling within them. Savlian hoped that those emotions would fuel them rather than prove to be detrimental.

Savlian finished his scanning, nodding as if he was satisfied. “All right, it’s time to finally set things right,” he began when he noticed a silhouette standing in front of the doorway to the castle. He paused for a moment, as he was trying to figure out who it was. After a moment he gave up and continued, “I have located the hideout of the person responsible for the murdering of our fellow guardsman. I will be leading all of you to this location but I stress we try to stay as silent as possible. The man we’re dealing with is an assassin and the more advantage we give him, the tougher it’s going to be to take him out. Hopefully our numbers will convince him to give up willingly, but don’t expect that. This man is mentally unstable so it is very likely that he’ll attack. Be prepared!”

The squad nodded in understanding. Savlian nodded towards the castle gates, “Let’s move out.”

As the men began to file out of the courtyard, Savlian looked back to the silhouette again. The sun was just creeping over the horizon now and the few stray rays revealed that the silhouette was Ormellius. “Time to finally set things right…” Savlian muttered before heading towards the Count.

The Count was dressed in simpler but warm garments to ward off the cold of the morning. A curious expression crossed the stern face of the man. Savlian swallowed the pit in his throat.

“It is somewhat early to be running drills in the courtyard is it not, Captain?” Ormellius asked in a condescending tone.

Savlian ignored the Count’s attempt to anger him. “Look, sir, I think I should explain myself,” Savlian said in a serious tone.

Savlian’s manner seemed to have affected the Count as the dark glint left his eyes and changed into ones that were ready to listen. “Go on.”

Savlian took a moment to collect himself. “The stress I’ve been under since this first began has been very difficult to handle. I’ve had to deal with Vernon threatening to kill me, assassination attempts made by Simion and Hlodir. Dealing with Hlodir’s mage and his bandit army. Even trying to co-operate with the Morag Tong has been difficult. The mistrust between us doesn’t help,” he paused to process his next words. He found that Ormellius was still paying close attention. “I know I should’ve told you all about Simion and the agreement we had. The thing is, at the time I was thinking that I had to deal with another Goldwine, that I would be forced to dance between the lines of protecting this town and pleasing you. It would’ve made sense to tell you everything once I found out I could trust you, but I didn’t because I was caught up in the madness that is this situation.

“As for what I’m doing right now; I’m putting an end to it. I found Simion’s hideout with the help of the Morag Tong and I’m taking this squad and either apprehending him or killing him. I honestly don’t care which it is anymore,” Savlian said in a tired and fed up manner, his eyes locked to the ground. After a moment, he looked up to the Count.

The Count was silent. His face expressionless. He held the gaze of Savlian for a few moments before his expression warmed. He placed a callused hand upon his Captain’s shoulder. “Okay, Savlian. Consider the hatchet buried. It was a bit foolish of me to arrive here and expect immediate trust,” the Count admitted, much to the relief of Savlian.

“Now I expect you to finish this, Captain. Especially since you got him trapped like a rat,” Ormellius continued in an encouraging manner.

A now vigorous Savlian nodded as he cinched he belt tighter, “Will do sir!” he replied as he began to catch up with the rest of his squad.

“Hold on!”

Savlian turned around, “Yes?”

“What about the Tong agents? What are they doing?”

Savlian’s expression soured, “I don’t know and I don’t care. They are trying to come up with some magical way to take care of him. They think he’s possessed or something. Really, he’s just crazy. They’re just wasting their time,” he said with a hint of disdain.

Ormellius fixed the Captain with a sceptical look, “If you truly believe that, go with it then. Good luck, Captain.”

“Thank you, sir,” Savlian replied and finally joined his squad.

“All right! Now let’s not waste anymore time. We got a criminal to catch!” Savlian told his squad with a new passion.

As the squad progressed into town, Savlian felt something Ormellius said was nagging him, if you truly believe that. Savlian couldn’t help but think, do I truly think that?

Good to see that they made up, bad to see more Impies walking to their doom. Ok, maybe I'm just pessimistic but Simion will probably carve them up good. Or no, not Simion, Boethia's voice.

Well, I can only hope that the Tong gets to Simion first. Even though it is a short update it was a good one MM, SGM.

Very well written in the introduction there. Brought about stunning imagery!

Due to my current internet problem at home (I still need to figure out what exactly has caused my connection to simply not exist), I am forced to postphone the next update for my story. Hopefully by next week, this problem will be solved and I'll have an update for you guys. Personally, I'm starting to feel a little bad about all these breaks between updates but I certainly can't quit now when I'm so close to being done. Plus, I don't want to quit either.

Anyways, I apologize for making you guys wait once again.

When you wait for something good.....they say...Anyway this is good....and our old friend Sethyas is appearing in this story as well! My is he popular!

Woo! With restored internet connection comes a new update! This one kinda ends abruptly, but I ran out of time for me to work on it right now and I didn't feel like making you guys wait any longer for an update. I think I'm going to make a deadline for myself and wrap this story up before September starts. I want to do that because in September I'm moving to my student housing for college and I'm not quite sure when I'll have my internet up there. I still need to get a laptop which I will be using to surf the internet because I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be able to take the computer we have at home, even though I use it about 95% of the time. Ohwell, that's the breaks. Enjoy the update all the same.



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The streets were still deathly silent at this time of the morning. Only the soft pattering of many pair of feet reached Savlian’s ears. He silently hoped that their noise wouldn’t alert Simion. Savlian couldn’t afford to let Simion escape once again. It could possibly mean resorting to team up with Sethyas and the Morag Tong once more and Savlian simply couldn’t take their constant prattling about the “magical way” to defeat Simion.

Savlian ran his a hand through his hair, a worn expression on his face. He needed to ignore these distractions. The situation at hand demanded full attention. Don’t worry about the chance of Simion escaping unless it happens. Surely with this many men in a narrow alleyway would be able to apprehend a fleeing criminal. Everything would be taken care of shortly. Just try to stay as silent as possible and give yourself enough time to take advantage of the situation. Done right, and no one is going to die today.

Even though Savlian attempted to ignore outside thoughts and uncertainties, Ormellius’ words still managed to drive to the forefront of Savlian’s mind. It grew to the point that it began to annoy him that there might be some doubt in this situation. Just because some assassin believes that Simion was possessed and under its control didn’t mean he should believe it. What he was truly dealing with here was a schizophrenic who just so happens to have an extremely violent and deadly efficient personality capable of feats that Simion’s “normal” personality couldn’t perform. To Savlian, that made much more sense.

But then why did he have this doubt and uncertainty? Even though he had more than convinced himself on Simion’s condition, why did this nagging feel continued to scratch at the back of his skull? Was there the possible chance that he actually believed Sethyas and the others, at least at a subconscious level? Savlian didn’t want to believe so, but that could explain it.

Savlian groaned softly as his mind battled with itself. This was not the time to be doing this! He had a killer to apprehend! He was so close to putting an end to this. To finally wake up from the constant nightmare of waking up knowing that Simion was planning to end his life.

“Sir, are you all right?” a soldier at Savlian’s side asked, his expression concerned, “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Savlian smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes. “I’m fine. I just had a late night,” he replied. He nodded to an alley. “This way.”

As Savlian and his company progressed through the alleyways, a knot began to grow in Savlian’s stomach. A chaotic mix of anticipation and dread flooded his thoughts, causing discomfort. Yet Savlian pressed on, eager to end this conflict.

It wasn’t long until they reached the spot where Savlian watched Sethyas climb up the ladder only hours before. Savlian halted his group and told them through hand signals that utmost silence from now on was needed and that Simion was up the ladder. Savlian decided that he would be the first to go up, so without any further delay he approached the ladder.

Savlian kept his eyes fixated on the spot where the ladder just appeared to randomly end, knowing that once he was up there, he would find the entrance to Simion’s hiding spot. Before climbing up, he made sure that his broadsword was firmly strapped so that is wouldn’t rattle. He also withdrew his dagger and placed it between his teeth. He felt some sense of security knowing that he had a weapon close at hand while he traveled up. For all he knew, Simion could be waiting right by the entrance waiting for a head to pop up so he could decapitate it. Savlian couldn’t help but think that having a knife is his mouth wouldn’t stop that, but it was the assurance the weapon provided that counted.

Savlian began to slowly make his way up the ladder, keeping his eyes and ears pried for any sudden movements or noises. He swallowed back a lump in his throat midway through his trip. He also noticed that his teeth were clamped to the knife is his mouth so tightly that his jaw was beginning to ache. Holding onto the ladder with one hand, he removed the dagger and took a moment to compose himself. Once he felt that he was ready again, Savlian continued on.

As he got closer to the top, he could finally see the entrance to the hideout. Sethyas was right, from ground level the entrance looked like a shadow from an adjacent building. Now Savlian could plainly see that there was a gap between where the ladder ended and the roof of the building. Just two more rungs and he would find himself in the lair of the enemy.

Savlian climbed the final two rungs and peered into the maw of the hideout. The place itself was only one room, and it was still bathed in the morning darkness. Savlian thought he was the outline of a body against the far wall of the room but at this distance it just looked like a large lump. Savlian freed the knife from his mouth and pulled himself fully into the room. His eyes scanned the entirety of the room and he noticed that the lump was the only thing resembling a person at the moment. There also appeared to be a cabinet beside the lump. Vials and bottles littered the floor surrounding the lump. The coppery stench of rotting blood was rank in the air. Without looking back, Savlian stuck a hand back outside and waved his men inside.

The entire time Savlian’s men pulled themselves into the building, Savlian kept his eyes fixed to the lump on the ground. He didn’t want to move yet in fear that blocking the light that was entering the building would alert the prone figure in the back of the room. Once a comfortable amount of men had made their way inside, Savlian nodded and his men began to inch their way forward.

The knife handle felt greasy in Savlian’s palm as the anticipation of this moment had started to make him sweat. His eyes were livid with triumph. There was no way Simion could escape from this many men alive. If he made a break for it, his men would cut him down before he got halfway to the exit. Simion was finally cornered!

An errant foot caused a floorboard to creak and instantly the lump bolted to its feet and a dagger flashed from the folds of dark clothing. Simion’s pale, haggard face was finally visible. His eyes were ablaze with shock and confusion. Savlian exchanged his knife for his broadsword. Many of his men had weapons drawn.

“Drop the dagger, Simion. There’s no way for you to escape so just give up and don’t give us a hard time,” Savlian said forcefully.

The confusion in Simion’s eyes faded quickly. “Ahh, Captain! Welcome to my new abode! It’s not so nice as my last one, but it does have…” he paused to look around, his hands making an all encompassing gesture, “character,” he finished with a crooked smile.

“Enough talk! Drop your weapon!” Savlian urged.

Simion raised his hands in an unthreatening manner, his knife held limply in his hand. “Ok, ok! I’ll release my weapon. Do you honestly think I would not comply with the law?” he said, his face mocking hurt. He slowly bent down to set down his dagger. Once he got to his knees he looked up to Savlian.

“You shouldn’t lie to me, Captain,” Simion said quietly, his crooked smirk returning.

“What are you talking about?”

“You said, there’s no way for me to escape, but there is,” Simion replied, his voice taking on a gleeful tone, “I just have to kill all of you and then waltz out of here!”

Alarm shot through Savlian’s system but before he could do or say anything, Simion struck. From his prone position on his knees, Simion hurled the dagger he had at the nearest guard. The force of impact from the throw knocked the guard from his feet. He could only stare at the dagger hilt jutting from his chest before his eyes rolled up to the back of his head.
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The fight continues soon! Stay tuned!

Oh man... it is on.

Keep it coming!

The sudden killing of one of the guardsmen made the others hesitate momentarily. Despite Savlian’s warnings that they were dealing with a mad man, they couldn’t believe that someone stuck in what appeared to be a hopeless situation would actually choose to try and kill them all. The moment of hesitation allowed Simion to withdraw another dagger, followed by him launching into the guardsmen.

Savlian was Simion’s first target, but instead of lashing out with his dagger, he caught Savlian unexpected with a swift kick to the jaw, knocking the Captain away from the battle. In one fluid movement after the kick, Simion swirled around, racking his dagger against the belly of a nearby guardsman. Continuing his swirl, he raised his dagger high enough to cleave through the throat of another guard before jumping away from his attackers. When Simion landed on his feet, the thud was accompanied by two others. One from the disembowelled guard falling to his knees, moaning as he tried to keep his insides where they belonged, the other thrashing on the floor as his life steadily came streaming out of his lacerated throat.

Savlian was just attempting to get to his feet once more when Simion engaged with the group of guards once again. The guards, spurred on by seeing their comrades slain, rushed Simion, hoping to overwhelm him. Instead, it only proved to help Simion as he evaded the large and unwieldy broadswords and stabbed into any exposed area the guards left open. Shouts of pain and curses of frustration rang out as the guards struggled to hit the elusive figure in black all the wile trying not to stab each other. The room was too cramped for this many swords. What was expected to be an advantage was quickly revealing itself to be a disadvantage.

Savlian attempted to jump into the fray once again, but was met with another forceful kick. This time it was accompanied by a hiss from Simion.

“Hold on a second, Captain! I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

Many of the guards were now sporting nagging to serious wounds as they attempted to kill the sleek assassin. Desperation and worry were now beginning to dawn on them. Simion stood his ground.

“Is this really Kvatch’s finest? Because if that’s true, some serious training needs to be done,” Simion said snidely.

One guard, bellowing his rage, rushed the robed harbinger of death, his broadsword raised over his head. With a mighty swing, he tried to cleave Simion in half. Simion responded by evading the blow by whirling around the guard then driving the dagger hilt-deep into the back of the guard’s neck. Simion twisted the blade before withdrawing it. The body of the guard collapsed like a sack of grain while Simion nonchalantly cleaned off his dagger before piercing the other guards with a look of twisted, sardonic pleasure.

“Next?” he asked with his crooked smile.

The guards formed themselves into a half-moon, once again attempting to surround and contain Simion. Simion stood his ground, but his eyes constantly shifted across each guard, waiting for the one that would try to strike first. The tension built as neither the guards or Simion were committed to acting first. Simion’s crooked smile turned into a smug grin as the seconds ticked away. He even eased his dagger down to a less than ready position.

Emboldened by such a move, a guard to Simion’s right lunged in to attack with a horizontal strike aimed for Simion’s head. Simion ducked under the blow and wrapped an arm around the guard. In seconds, Simion had driven the dagger into the body of the guard many times with shuddering force. Sensing that someone was coming up behind him, Simion lashed out with a foot at the incoming guard and followed that up with throwing the dead guard in his arms into the surrounding men, ruining the half-moon. He then turned his attention to the guard his kicked. The guard had recovered and attempted to stab Simion. Simion parried the blow and then drove an elbow into the man’s now. The nose broke with a satisfying crack, and blood immediately began to pour from it. The guard dropped his weapon as a reflex to try and stop the pain, but it only led to his demise.

With another guard indisposed, only three remained, excluding Savlian, who came to their aid once again. Simion grinned at the Captain.

“About time you got up. I don’t hit that hard do I?” he asked, chuckling. Savlian’s expression hardened.

Simion focused on Savlian. “So, it’s time to take things serious eh? Ok! Will do!” Simion said brightly as he surged towards Savlian and the guards.

Savlian tried to attack once again, but it seemed to be that the assassin’s agenda was to save him for last. Instead of striking flesh, Savlian only tore into the robe of Simion before another kick knocked him away from the battle. Frustration flooded the Captain’s thoughts.

Simion didn’t care though; he had three more guards to deal with. After knocking away Savlian, he tripped up one of the guards then drove his dagger into the man’s heart as he was sprawled out against the floor. Simion rolled away from a sweeping sword strike from another attacker before regaining his feet. In a mighty display of acrobatics, Simion launched himself off of a nearby wall, which allowed him to land behind his pursuer. Before the guard could recover, cold steel slid across his neck, bringing an end to his existence.

Simion whirled around and stopped the guard about to run him through dead in his tracks with a look. The guard, having seen all his comrades die by the hands of one being, began to back away, hoping to preserve his life. Unfortunately, his fate had all ready been decided upon as soon as he entered Simion’s hideout. No one who entered his domain would continue to live past this day. As the guard attempted to run for the exit, Simion calmly tossed his dagger. It found its mark.

Savlian regained his feet once more just as Simion retrieved his dagger from the prone body of his last kill. Savlian couldn’t help but look at the chaos that surrounded him. The stench of blood was heavy in the air. Bodies were sprawled everywhere, all their faces contorted into either shock, or horror. Not a single body looked peaceful, only tarnished and violated. Simion’s steady steps snapped back Savlian’s attention.

The Breton’s face was speckled with blood, and Savlian knew it wasn’t Simion’s. Just by the steady gait of Simion’s stride, Savlian knew that the assassin wasn’t even scratched. Gods, he didn’t even appear winded by the effort!

Simion stopped several feet in front of Savlian. It was Simion who now scanned his surroundings; it seemed as if he eyes drank in every single detail of the scene around him. Every drop of blood, every horrified face, every death. Simion closed his eyes, as if his eyes couldn’t handle so much blood, and took a deep, shuddering breath of ecstasy.

“Can you smell that?” he said in a near whisper, his eyes still closed, “It’s just so… intoxicating.”

Savlian scanned his surroundings once more and was sickened as he realized that the assassin was taking joy from the scene around him.

“You’re mad!”

One eye of Simion’s shot open at the comment. The other opened more casually after a moment. “Oh, there’s more to it then that. But we don’t need to go into any details about that. Just know that I’m more than just ‘mad’ as you say,” Simion said casually. Given the current situation, even the casual aspect that Simion displayed seemed maddening.

“I don’t care what you are! Just know that this ends now with you either in chains or dead,” Savlian shot back.

Simion laughed. “I must admit, you do have some determination about you. Too bad that determination caused the death of at least 10 men. Really, Captain, how many more are going to suffer before this ends? Honestly, it disgusts me how many lives have been wasted because you couldn’t let me get away with a couple of murders.”

Simion’s words hit Savlian hard. It was true. The evidence was all around him. Many lives had been sacrificed due to his stubbornness to catch Simion and now if he were to die, it all would’ve been in vain. If he only solely focused on catching Simion, how many lives could’ve been spared?

Simion noticed that his words were taking affect. “See, you realize the truth in my words don’t you? If you got off my back, many people would still be alive. Even Bernise would still be alive,” Simion continued, his voice growing darker. He had begun to slowly inch towards the Captain.

The mention of Bernise only made him feel worse. How could he have let such a nice, kind, and wonderful woman be slain so inhumanly? She was so innocent and yet Simion brutally murdered her. It was his fault that she was dead…

Simion inched closer and closer, delighted in witnessing the self destruction Savlian was bringing upon himself. He wouldn’t know what hit him; that was how deep Savlian was digging.

Even though Savlian was tearing himself about over the fact of letting Bernise die, something in the back of his mind was nagging him. It wasn’t you who killed Bernise, it was him! , the nagging thought kept repeating. Vernon was serious threat. He HAD to be dealt with. You did the right thing. The only thing you did wrong was trust that Simion wouldn’t kill once again. It was a risk that had to be taken. But now you have a chance to avenge them! Do it!

Realization dawned on Savlian just as Simion’s dagger arched towards him with tremendous speed. With lightning quick reflexes, Savlian intercepted the dagger with his broadsword. Simion’s eyes widened in surprise before Savlian delivered a shattering punch to Simion’s face, staggering the assassin backwards.

“I may have screwed up a couple of times, Simion, but I’m here to remedy that. Because overall, you’re the main problem here,” Savlian said matter-of-factly as he readied himself.

“Bah! Killing with one stroke wouldn’t have been nearly as fun as what I’m about to do to you now!” Simion hissed before engaging Savlian.

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The battle continues next update! Oooo the anticipation!

The anticipation is killing me!

Ok, either Kvatch's finest are crappy compared to everyone else, Savlian is a superman with his broadsword, or he's just gone through a dramatic power-up. Or if none of those, he's going to get owned, owned real hard.

Oh, and I must say that was an amazing battlescene. Vicious.