Our Young and as of yet nameless man has been busy for a few months, learning... learning many things, things I'm sure you all are dying to know, but we wouldn't want you knowing too much too soon, would we? Needless to say, grief and rage are a hell of a motivator, our young man looking far less clear-eyed, and clean-shaven. Long hair that had once been pulled back neatly falling in loose black strands, a face once youthful and chiseled given a few lines in grief, and a generous, but as of yet short face of hair. Sitting at a table, in a solitary room, a sparse but well taken care of bed, that of an inn, most certainly. Before him on the table sat that blade laid out on its flat, its leather-wrapped steel handle contiguous with the blade it came from facing the young man's left, and laid so it whispered

"Come now, revenant that walks. The path to power is never so clean. Yours already is bloodied with all your friends and family. No matter the mastery of tongue you have gained, the funeral pyre you are building requires more than your rage and loss." A pause, whilst still our young Revenant sits there in silence, a stern troubled expression on his face accented well by the dark hair circling his mouth and chin. "What is a few hundred more souls, you are not facing a few measly brigands or a town guard. Corruption starts at the top. You think there will not be one capable of speaking the tongue, or some other mystery to combat you in the king's own palace?'' With this, those eyes once brown narrowed, the first stains already swirling around the iris, like reaching tendrils of corruption matching the same color of the gems on that blade. That however was his only response.

A long silence continued between the two before finally, our young revenant spoke. "I do not disagree with your conclusion, blade, but you've taught me too much to think simple slaughter will be enough. To claim them after death, I must have made them mine in life. Their last thoughts must be of me, and patient as I am... Raising an army of Martyrs to my Oath will take too long." He said as he sat back. "and I do not think myself able to torture and ruin the innocent." A dark amused chuckle resounds through the link the two share.

"Innocent, guilty, it doesn't matter. They are just assurances, kindling; a message from you to those you've sworn Oath to that you have not forgotten nor abandoned them." A brief beat of silence between the two. "A song to comfort their loss, sung in blood and terror." Despite himself, our young revenant's lips twisted into something resembling a smile at that. The idea appealed to him, and with that, he picked up the blade and stood. "Fine... then let us compose this song." He said as he walked out of the room into the night. Poetic or not, the night was the best time to do such dark deeds.

And So our young Revenant found himself haunting the doorway to a house of ill repute, not a brothel per se... ohh no doubt, it reeked of sex, coin, and spirits. It was not open to the public, little more than the private domicile of what passed for organized crime in the large riverside village he found himself in. It paid taxes as a brothel, it was how the smugglers that operated it kept the local officials off of their back. Perhaps there were a few innocent souls inside, perhaps they are not the blackest souls one could find... but it would do.

Opening the door and walking inside, all eyes turned to him; A stranger with a bare blade in hand, the silhouette of the officer's long coat, stiff broad shoulders with those iron epaulets. Their first thought was not of hostility, nor of anger, it was of fear and survival. These were not hardened murderers, and few this close to the capital didn't understand that a northern officer was just that. The Man behind the bar cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Sir, we were not prepared to serve one of the Kingdom's Finest. If you give us a moment we'll clear a table and gather some girls for you to choose from, yeah?" maybe they could take him after all, but few here didn't have at least some family to call their own they'd rather not abandon. Victory? possible... but not without deaths they weren't willing to trade for it. Not without the loss of limb that would cripple their ability to work. So why not pretend to be what they were on paper, at least for the night?

those stained eyes of our young revenant closed, a brief mirthful smile coiling on those lips like the dying throes of a beheaded snake. "Apologies, I came here expecting many things.'' He spoke softly, almost melodically as the Northern accent often came across in the common tongue. "Hospitality was not one of them." He continued as he closed the door behind him. Giving a soft sigh and a shake of his head in regret at the things he would do. "But, I will at least be honest with you." he said as he raised his head to look around the room, looking into the eyes, the faces of every soul in the room, from the quivering pleasure girls, the unsteady hands that have yet to be blooded by violence, and the rare few mastering a tension in their bodies as they prepared to fight. "None of what will happen to you is deserved, or earned. I'm sure it is little comfort, but you all deserve to know that nothing you have done, or could have done could have caused or prevented tonight. I brought this on you." He said letting the silent tension fill the air, simply standing in the doorway as he centered himself for what is to come.

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One man, a stocky, shorter man was not one to simply let this be, he stood pushing the girl off of him as he pulled the small field hatchet from his belt. "You'll not find victims here." He growled before moving up to the Revenant, eyeing his relaxed stance, no trained warrior, but he'd been in a few scraps. Doing what he thought was best he darted in, opposite of the revenant's sword arm, raising his hatchet to strike down at his head... only for the crack of bones and the sudden jarring feeling of his arm being thrown up from a strike he did not see, broken fingers dropping the blade as the revenant just stared at him, a subtle frown on that bearded face. "For your Bravery, I will not drag you into what else goes on this night." He said, not even letting the words sink in before the blade came up in a flash that saw his head removed.

A cry from one of the girls filled the silence of the tense room, even as the revenant leaned down dipping his fingers in the quickly cooling blood. Rubbing it between his fingers as he returned his gaze to the rest of the room. A few of the smarter ones got up and tried to get to the back door. but even as they rushed, the revenant calmly spoke. His words not those of the common tongue, his voice not that of a mortal. The sound seemed to drip like blood from a wound, their meaning, even in the foreign tongue they spoke not, understood clearly.

"And So does Blood call to Blood, as Darkness Calls to Silence." The shadows whimpered as he spoke.

"I Speak the word None wish to hear." And the winds battering against the windows stilled as if in horror.

"Of this Voiceless Grief, I give to you." Even the hearth stilled in silence, the flame crackling no more.

"For this word is without Light. So I speak it to you; DESPAIR"

And so all who heard it knew it. Crawling up their throats, robbing their muscles of strength. The overwhelming hopelessness, not of their own, but of all who had felt it before, calling the certainty to their minds... that there was no escape, no reprieve. Collapsed did all who were standing, as tears came to their eyes. Falling back in their seats, those who had not moved, wailing sobs taking their throats. With everyone so indisposed did our revenant get to work, clearing the center of the room of tables, and placing wooden chairs on their faces in a circle. One for each poor blameless soul in the room, the legs sharpened, Only then did he bring each over, sitting them on the floor against the upturned backs of the chairs, even as they begged, they bargained, were their arms impaled on the sharpened wooden legs, between the bones of the forearms each to prevent them from pulling free.

Even as the spell did fade, did despair keep with them. The Monster that had beset them was clear from the very start, death was the only mercy they would receive. That there was no fault of their own, nor means in their possession that could avoid their fate tonight. None of them warriors. None of them soldiers, perhaps not honest folk, but simple folk all the same. With much of the risky work done, did our revenant turn to look at the souls he had condemned, one by one, over every face, the once stern, fearful, or anxious... all shared the same expression. they were lost. He gave a soft sigh as he shook his head, and spoke to his captive audience in that soft almost melodic northern accent of his. "I would apologize to you all, but if I was so consumed by regret this far into the night, I would never be able to finish what needs be done." He said with a momentary pause, giving a long soft inhale, and equally slow exhale as he walked to the one that would be the first tonight.

"We have a song to compose, you and I. A dirge so great, that the very king will be struck by its melancholy and loss." He gripped the man's chin, the kindly barman who had offered him hospitality despite not being welcome. "You will do me a favor and lend me your voice. All of you will." He said with a chilling finality as a knife was drawn. "You'll have to forgive me, for this at least I am regretful... I am not a skilled torturer, this will take some time before your verse is finished."

The Revenant was not a complete fool, there was a reason all of them were arranged so they were facing each other... so they could all see as he broke down, and eventually killed in this horrible fashion, a torture of its own. Without his skill in torture improving too much, though it did improve, whilst the first took hours to break to the point needed for this ritualist harvest of souls for our Revenant, the last several only took minutes. By the time dawn had come around, there was nothing left in this house of ill repute but death and blood.

Our Revenant left the town, a somber mood over him. He had to admit a few things to himself in the wake of this Atrocity... the first of his but no doubt far from the last. He enjoyed it, a little. The Control, the power... still it left him feeling cold. Colder than the death of all he knew. After all, not a single one of those souls deserved their fate. Not one given a real chance to avoid it. Even with their souls bound to him, fed to his resonance, knowing it was for a purpose it didn't seem right. It wasn't fair, it was uncouth, undeserving. Dirty. He would have to do better next time.

Because there would be a next time. It would be even more shameful towards his victims tonight if they died for nothing, as undeserving as they were. He took their hope, their dreams, their lives, it was the absolute least he could do, but to make sure they had a purpose.