Set Al-Sayyid
Changeling Fighter/Hexblade
AC: 16 HP: 27
PP: 11 PIv: 12 PIs: 9
Conditions: --
Concentration: --

Set puts a gloved forearm over his shemagh, thankful for what little protection they offered from the awful stench. He feels his own gorge rise and swallows the bile in his throat, closing his eyes for just a moment's respite before forcing himself to look again. He forces himself to stare.

A sense of urgency finally overcomes all else as he leans his Favorite against the wall and steps forward into the filth, blood and puss pooling around his boots. Pulling his hatchet free from his belt, Set chokes up on the neck of the handaxe, holding it like a dagger as he leans over the desperate creature, soiling his white robes in blood and maggots.

"Shh, rest now," Set whispers. The emaciated bull's jugular is not difficult to locate. Set puts the blade of his axe against it, opening the vein in one swift motion on one side of the bull's throat and then quickly finding the other to do the same. Set slowly rises back to his full height, fresh blood dripping down his gloves, a coat of flies crawling over his robes. He has to crush a strong urge to bolt for the door, body convulsing visibly as he stands his ground, surrounded by corruption. Almost as sickening is an imaginary chuckle from within, a twisted echo of the Shadowkeeper's laughter heard like some Pavlovian response to evil. This one's pain, at least, is at an end, he thinks. He watches what remains of the bull's blood seep out onto the floor.

Steeling himself, Set kneels back down, taking a few moments to try to look for something beyond the seemingly indiscriminate torture that plagued this beast. He chokes out a few words, describing the symbols and designs he can see through the haze of flies and camouflage of maggots. But it's not long at all before he can take no more. Set rises again, completely ignoring the symbols painted in blood on the wooden walls.

He steps out of the enclosure and moves wordlessly past Fanlomen, not even bothering to look for his reaction to the carnage as Set makes his way towards the door. Exiting out into fresh air, Set breathes deep like a man drinking from the well after walking many miles through the desert. His eyes are lost to the night, staring a thousand yards distant.