High-pitched screams echoed out of the dark and grimy corridor. J'arthar was holding a knife wet with blood. Next to him was a young Breton woman strapped to a table. He was slowly cutting pieces of her skin off. Taking his time, he flayed of pieces of the Breton woman's skin. Small incisions covered her face, one of her eyeballs had a deep gash in it that ran down her cheek. It looked around. J'arthar had skills in Restorative magic, and liked to keep his victims alive for as long as he could. He cut them and systematically healed them, so he could start again without getting a new victim. Yet, when a prisoner decided to become insubordinate, the Khajit enjoyed the last moments they had alive.
After several more minutes of cutting and agonizing screams, the woman finally died. Her skin was completely flayed, and her scalp lay at the top of a pile of flesh and dried skin. It's a shame she had to bite me, I haven't had a woman in here for the past 2 years and I was starting to like this one, he thought. He cleaned off his knife and set it on the surgical table next to him, and began to work on cleaning the body fully.
First he took the body and dipped it in a vat of preservative. He didn't want it to smell, and even though he lived in such a macabre palace J'arthar hated the smell of rotting flesh. All his victims were preserved and then thrown in a vast pile of bodies kept in the main chamber. It was under lock and key, as was the rest of the Aylied ruin. He made sure to buy the best locks, and updated them constantly. His operating table was also always clean, even if the rest of the ruins were not. Hung on the walls were scraps of skin, hair, and bone. Pieces from some of his favorite prisoners. His work as a traveling doctor made sure that he could always get new "patients" from all across Cyrodill.
It took several hours for the body to finally become fully preserved. Once he took it out the Breton woman's muscle was gray, and her face was locked in eternal pain. The Khajit was a cruel man, for the vat that held the preservative was lined with black soul gems. He made sure their soul didn't escape, it was for another of his experiments. He wanted to see the effects that angry souls would have when released after being held in captivity for a thousand years. He himself would not get to experience it, but before he died he wanted to make sure they were at least sent out into the world. This was one of his main projects, and he had small hammers on the soul gems that would cause them to open after a thousand years.
He finished cleaning up and changed into his leather armor and sheathed an iron dagger. Close to the table where the examination table was a cabinet filled with all different types of vials. Green, blue, red, pink, and purple vials dominated it's shelves. He grabbed two of the purple vials and one of the green ones. These will make it easier to get a new patient, he thought with a slight smirk. He knew he could grab someone in Cheydinal, it would be such an easy thing to do. Sneak in, steal someone, and sneak out. He loved how simply foolish all of Cyrodil was, they even accused goblins and necromancers of the crimes.
J'arthar closed the gates and with precision locked each one. It took about 2 hours to secure and test every lock. Each lock was extremely hard to pick, and J'arthar believed that even the fabled Gray Fox would have problems opening them all without the keys. He finished with the last lock and headed up and out of the ruins. He exited through the secret entrance on the other side, the main entrance had fallen in years ago and helped to discourage adventurers and anything else curious about its contents. The place had been picked clean by Archaeologists years ago. J'arthar paid little to nothing for the ruins, and the squatters that had resided in it got a very nasty surprise when they found themselves locked in a room. They weren't his first murders, for he took pride in those murders. For 3 years he traveled around Morrowind silently killing people in their sleep, but he was getting older. It was so much easier and more artistic to kill them in his sanctuary.
His black horse was still in the Bruma stables. The walk wasn't that bad, he enjoyed the scenery and cold weather. It made him realize that he too was a living breathing human being. That feeling made him want to perfect his art, and for that he needed a victim of each race. There were so many Imperials around, and they were the easiest to get. He needed a dark elf, he wanted to sew the skin of one on his wall. The only problem was how adept they were at being light sleepers. This was why he was heading to Cheydinal, there was one Dark Elf that couldn't escape him. Tamara was her name, and she lived in a small house with her son Zulas.
It took him around a day to grab his horse and arrive at the patient's house in Cheydinal. He had to stop in Bruma and buy a few supplies. Rope, a cloth sack, and some traveling food. He arrived midday in Cheydinal, ready to snatch his victim. He would have to give her and her son their "medicine" first. On a normal visit he would only give the actual medicine to them, but medicine wasn't all that they were going to get.
The trip was a little shorter than expected, and the only person he ran into was an Anvil guard with a bad sense of direction. J'arthar was let into the city gates and he strolled along the city streets to Tamara's home. Zulas opened the door and greeted him with a solemn face, "Mr.J'arthar, my mother passes away in the night. Her sick heart couldn't hold on." J'arthar's heart filled with anger, and he tried hard to suppress it, "Have you already disposed of the body?" Zulas nodded, "Cremation sir, it was swift and her corpse felt no pain. Her soul has moved to the beyond now, she is with The Nine."
"So if she is dead then who are you staying with boy?"
"No one sir, they'll be foreclosing on me as well."
"Do you have any other family?"
"Just my mother and I, that's why I've had to stay here alone."
J'arthar thought for a moment and after a few seconds he concocted an idea, "Boy, how would you like to stay with me?" Zulas's eyes lit up, "Really sir? After everything you've done to try to help my mother and I of course I'll come with you. On one condition."
"What kind of condition?"
"Let me bring my mother's ashes."
"Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way," J'arthar smiled. Zulas had no idea that this was going to be the most terrible mistake of his life. J'arthar's mind started working on a solution to him finding out that the doctor lived in an Aylied ruin. His brain took a split-second to work out his plan. Hit the kid on the back of the head, easy as that.
J'arthar led Zulas to his horse in the stable. He decided rather than buying the boy an entirely new horse, he'd just let him ride on the doctor's. That way, he could always watch him. As they rode he asked the doctor some pretty simple questions. Questions that pertained to whether or not he was married, where he lived, how far out he lived. The questions started to get on his nerves, and it seemed a little rude for a boy his age to ask so many questions. What was the purpose of Zulas knowing where he lived, did it even matter?
The sun drew away from the sky, and it started to grow darker. J'arthar saw lights in the distance, "Alright Zulas, I believe that this is a tavern up ahead. I'll pay for rooms, and let you have your own." Zulas nodded, "Alright, I'd just like a room with a window."
"Why do you need a room with a window?"
"I like to stare outside and look at the stars."
"Fine, but I'm being generous. Remember that."
Zulas nodded and J'arthar set the horse in the new stable. The tavern was relatively new, and the name was Stiletto Night. J'arthar had passed this inn a couple of times, and only knew that there were rooms upstairs and alcohol downstairs. They were famous for the Backstabber, a drink that was your friend then gave you a nasty wake up call. He decided that rather than drink he'd just go straight to his room, Zulas wasn't old enough so he would also have to get into his room.
J'arthar talked with the Argonian woman who was serving and giving room keys. They quickly discussed the weather, and J'arthar acquired the room keys. "Here Zulas, I did have enough heart to get you a window seat. Think of this gift as the first of many." Zulas took the key and nodded, both of them then headed to their bunks. J'arthar was ready for a good night's sleep.
Zulas sat alone in his room, the window was open letting the night air in. He pulled out a small package and carefully look it over. This was what his mother had given him, she had always had a knack for gifts. She had the power to see in the future, and Zulas was told to open it on this day. Carefully, he unwrapped the package. Inside was a knife with a note wrapped around it, the note said Behind you. Zulas looked behind him.
J'arthar missed the boy, but only barely. He had turned around right before the club hit him. There he was staring at the doctor with his mouth open, completely unsure of what to do next. The doctor had no choice now, he would have to explain himself to the boy, "What? You thought I actually cared about your other and you? That I was planning on helping you? Pff, you were but little foo-" J'arthar stopped. Something thudded against his chest, when he looked down a sword's blade was sticking through his ribs. Then he heard her voice," Well done my son, this will indeed help your admission into the Dark Brotherhood. This fool was starting to become a nuisance." The blade slowly slid out of his chest, and he dropped to the floor. His plans died with him, but not his experiments, but the timer kept ticking.