Guild Wars 2

Author’s note: This scrap of parchment was discovered floating under a bridge in Lion’s Arch. The recruit who found it believes it may have something to do with the recent murder of hylek merchant Akbati, whose gruesome death chilled and disturbed all who heard of it. Though Lionguard have been told to be ever-vigilant should the killer show their face, there has been little progress until now. Some say that the note was meant to be found; whether or not this is true is known only to the one who left it. I can only hope that its author remains as far from civilization as possible, and that we all sleep with an eye open lest this killer finds us to be suitable prey.
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Contrary to some stories, blood is not hot. It is usually lukewarm, with varying degrees of heat. The only time it is hot is in comparison to something like snow, and if you’re foolish enough to waste such a vital substance so blatantly, then you won’t last long; it is too easy to track and too difficult to wash out. For one to truly appreciate vitae and its properties, you must cultivate patience, charm, and a clean palate that is willing to test and taste many streams before settling on a favored flavor. The best blood is not the cleanest- its vessel must experience an ageing to impart the subtle notes of atmosphere. The only difficulties with obtaining such a fine liquid arise from the wariness of its holder.

This is where the patience and charm come in handy. A smile works best to lower the guard of many. Even the most battle-hardened veteran will be willing to crack a grin in return should you offer one first. From then on, you must burrow into their trust like a worm in dead wood.

I prefer to be thought of as a scientist first, but for those of you who are wondering, I am sylvari, born of the Pale Tree. Though I was brought into this world only a few years ago, I emerged from my pod fully-grown, feminine in form and with a head of pale green leaves for hair and a body composed of pale-gray petals. I am pretty, I suppose, if you are concerned with that. It is rather useful against those who are inclined to trust their eyes over their instincts; more than one subject has realized that even the most bewitching blossoms can hide deadly poison. I try to make their passage easy, if it is required. Noble subjects require noble deaths. With those honored, they will not need to scream or plead; a simple draught tipped through sleeping lips or poured into an opened vein will render them unwaking to the world around them. Their passage, so calm and willing, is a gift, and I honor the discoveries I am able to make by giving their names to those who find them.

Yet for the ignoble, the coward, the fool who dares to play with life, there is only pain. Though the nobleman’s passage is one of peace and calm, leaving only whispers of a merciful angel of death, when a coward dies by my hand in this manner, the gossips tell tales of something more sinister – an avenging ghost or wraith which descends upon the wicked, exposing their dark lives like a festering wound before the knife. Only their scattered misdeeds show them for who they truly were, and as their name is matched with their crimes, the pain they inflicted becomes evident. Those who had screamed that their deaths were unfair are slowly quieted as the realization dawns upon them: What they thought they knew were nothing more than falsehoods put up as distractions from the foul deeds committed in secret. I will admit to enjoying these deaths more than others, for with them, I allow my curiosity to play on their reactive forms. How does a muscle – such as this one, right by the shoulder – work when it is severed from its kin? How long does it take for one of hearty constitution to break under the pressure of pain and for his screams to finally wear away? How long can a cut bleed, and if there are many, how long until the victim bleeds out? These questions and others are answered by the wicked, and as their victims wept for their fallen children, so too will their oppressors answer in blood, in gold, in tears, and finally, in death. I become a warning to the malicious and a warily-respected guardian for the innocent Both experience and vitae are able to provide fully; do not waste the opportunity to study. After all, the flavor of life is different for all, and you should be willing to step where others dare not go.
For now, my dear reader, fare well, but take care. Know that if you stray from the noble path, I will be your guide back to the straight and narrow – and I will carve off what needs to be removed in order for this to happen.