Aspirant Dolor is... talented, if a touch careless. The dagger he discarded lurks within these caves somewhere, though I know not where. I can smell it. The fear-musk from his kills stands in the air after the act because he lets them marinate first. They stand-lie-sit stock still as the poison fills their limbs with lead, knowing only two perfect facts:
They are going to die.
There is nothing they can do about it.