A New Threat, The sequel to "Bloodlust" Options

[The Metal Mallet]

Oooooo, what could this threat be!? The mystery! Haha, it probably won't be too long for you guys to figure out what the threat is. I'll eventually drop the obvious hint once I reach the correct point. For now, I leave you in suspicion...

Now to start this puppy off with a cliche beginning but I liked what I wrote so I'm keeping it this way!


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I found myself in a dark void; the darkness was heavy and oppressive. Yet, for some odd reason I could plainly see my hand when I brought it to my face. To my sudden shock I saw that my hand was covered in dark, congealing blood. I quickly gazed at my other hand and found the same result; the fluid was actually becoming sticky. My heart felt like it had risen to my throat and I struggled to breathe. There had to be some sort of logical explanation for this!

I felt like running, but the void was so dark I had no idea which way to go. Anxiety crept up my spine and my sticky hands clenched into fists and began to shake. I closed my eyes then and tried to slow down my heavy breathing. I tried to get myself collected and calm. Attempts at trying to discern why I was in this situation were beginning to be futile so instead I decided to focus on calming my nerves. Finally, after nearly tumbling off the summit of my sanity, my chest stopped heaving breaths and slowed to a normal rate. My heartbeat ceased hammering and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then I heard a voice.

My eyes snapped open, only to see the familiar void. I turned about in a circle, looking in all directions for the source of the voice, but to no avail. The panic was slowly returning once again. Had my mind actually snapped? Was the voice a figment of my mind? I looked down and saw my bloodstained hands once again. It was becoming increasingly annoying trying to keep my fingers from sticking together.

The voice sounded again.

I looked up and saw nothing once again. This time I knew the sound came in front of me! The voice was more of a moan than any words, but I knew it was human.

“Who is there?” I called out. Strangely enough my voice echoed along the void.

I stood waiting, my ears straining for a reply. Yet nothing came. I called out once more, my voice cracking with nervousness. Still, no reply.

Absentmindedly, I wiped at the sweat on my brow and instantly groaned in disgust as I felt the substance on my hand smear against my skin. Revolted, I attempted to keep my hands as far away from me as possible. The brownish-red colour was beginning to haunt me. I closed my eyes again, this time to shut out the vision of my hands. I couldn’t stand the sight of them.

After a few moments, when I thought I could deal with situation, I opened my eyes once more. A hooded figure in a brown robe stood before me. Startled by the sudden appearance of the figure, I cried out and jumped back.

“I bet you’re wondering about that blood on your hands aren’t you?” an indiscernible voice said from the recesses of the hooded figure. I couldn’t see a face. Within the robe I could only see darkness as deep as the void that surrounded me.
“Yes,” I replied weakly.

“Well…” the voice began. I could almost feel the smile spreading across its face, “It’s the blood of your victims.”

The moaning noise sounded from behind me and I whirled around and found emptiness. Swallowing hard I turned back around to the stranger.

“My victims?”

The hooded head nodded slightly. “Yes. Let me show you,” it said, gesturing behind me.

Taking a deep breath, I turned around slowly. I expected the worse but I only found myself staring at the void once again.

“I don’t see anything,” I said dumbly.

An odd sensation swept past my ear following my words. It was as if a slight breeze had blown past me.

“Just wait,” the voice hissed into my ear.

Annoyed, I turned to face the figure to tell it to get away from me but the hooded figure was no where to be seen. Sweat was running freely down my back now. Just what the hell was I getting into?

Just then the moaning voice returned and I whirled back to the direction the figure had pointed out to me. I stared in horror as a familiar person lurched towards me. She was a middle-aged Imperial with brown hair. She was hobbling towards me and it appeared as if each step caused her harm. Her hand clutched at her body as she was covered in bloody stab wounds. Her normally smiling face was contorted in pain.

“Bernise!?” I called out incredulously.

The low moan that I had heard previously escaped her lips. She was in such agony!

“Why couldn’t you help me?” she gasped, “Why did you let me die?”

Tears sprung from my eyes. “I tried! I was too slow. It hadn’t dawned on me until it was too late!’

A gurgling noise sounded to my left and faced another familiar face. Blood poured down the chin of Madsen, the homeless man. He could not speak since his murderer removed his tongue but his accusatory eyes told me enough.

“Whhhhhyyyyyy…”

All around me those who had passed on in a horrible fashion appeared, most of which were assassinated Town Guardsmen. All of them accused me on why I couldn’t save and why I failed them. The torrent of voices were crashing upon me, overwhelming me. I couldn’t take it, yet I was surrounded. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t flee. All I could do was fall to my knee, close my eyes, and clamp my hands to my ears screaming “Stop it!” over and over.

Almost on command the voices did stop. I opened my eyes in amazement but then I realized why they stopped. The hooded figure had returned. It stood before me within the circle of long dead comrades. It gestured in an all encompassing manner.

“This is but of sample of all those you’ve damned,” the figure stated.

Slowly, I regained my feet. “No… Someone else killed them. I am no murderer!”

I felt the smile emanating from the stranger once again. “Though you may not have driven in the blade, you could’ve prevented all these deaths…” the figure paused and reached for his hood, “Besides I should know, I was the one who killed them.”

My eyes widened as the figure revealed himself as Simion, the Breton assassin that had plagued my town 3 years ago. The crazed look was still in his eyes and that recognizable smirk was still etched to his face.

I stood frozen in place, uncertain in what I could do. I was trapped with the most dangerous man I had ever faced on the job.

“What do you want?” I managed to choke out.

Simion stepped closer, yet I remained rooted in my place. For some reason my feet did not seem to want to respond to what my brained wanted them to do.

“I’m simply performing a job. You see, everyone here has hired me to show you the pain they went through. What better assassin to hire than the one that killed them, right?” Simion replied joyously.

Rather nonchalantly, Simion removed a silver dagger from within his robes. Another smirk returned to his face as he stopped inches away from my quivering body.

“I’m going to take my time with this.”

I could only stare at the dagger as it plunged into me.




I awoke with a start. My bed sheets were damp with cold sweat. Almost without thought I looked down at my hands. Relief flooded me as I found them cleaned and unstained. It was just a dream. Just like the other ones had been.

“Damn, Savlian, it’s been a wile since you had one of those,” I quietly said aloud. I pushed back the hair that was matted to my forehead and followed that by rubbing my arms in an attempt to warm myself up.

Looking out of the window to my room I noticed that it was still dark. The stars were dim though and judging by the purple haze to the east, dawn was not far off. I gazed back at my bed thoughtfully. A little more sleep was an option but my dream put a quell to that notion. Instead, I decided I was going to go to work early.


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Now, though it may appear that there's going to be a lot of reoccurring characters in this story, I'll tell you now, that is most likely not going to be the case. Who knows though, based on how this story develops I just might toss in someone familiar. I doubt it, but I truly can't say what'll happen.

I also hope I don't take a year and a half to finish this story. Based on what I plan to do with this one, I expect it to be much shorter than "Bloodlust" but then again, I never thought "Bloodlust" would ever be as long as it turned out to be...

[The Metal Mallet]

The cold wind swept past me as I exited my home, which immediately made me pull my cloak closer to myself. It was early spring which meant that the nights were still bitterly cool given the altitude of the where the city stood. Sure, from a defensible stance, the small road that wound its way up the cliff provided as easy way to defend the city yet it didn’t change the fact about how cold the weather could get up here. I smirked as I recalled an instance where a travelling merchant from Bruma was actually caught off guard by the cold.

Dispelling the random thought, I continued on towards the town barracks, my footsteps echoing against the cobblestones and dark houses. The wind gusted once more and I shrank into my cloak even more to fend off the chill. An eerie sensation washed over me as I made my journey. It felt like I had eyes staring at my back. My paced quickened in an attempt to get rid of the sensation yet it continued. I couldn’t help but glance behind me, just to order to convince myself I was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary was all I saw. Just calm, empty streets. By the Divines I wished morning would just hurry up and get here.

I hurried on, hoping that I had quelled my anxiety yet the feeling persisted. Images of my dream flared into my mind and I panicked. I raced down the street and as I rounded a corner I abruptly stopped and plastered myself against the building I was beside. My heart was racing, my chest was heaving and I had no reason to feel this way!

In frustration I sagged downed into a sitting position, my wrists resting against my raised knees. I admonished myself for letting a dream bother me this much. Simion was dead! I saw his corpse being taken away before I passed out. There was no need to worry.

Yet, every time I had a dream involving that horrible case 3 years ago I ended up a paranoid wreck for at least the next day. I was surprised that no one I worked with really noticed anything when that happened. I must admit, shortly after Simion was killed the dreams plagued me nearly every night. They weren’t always the same, yet they were frightening similar and it always ended with Simion killing me in some fashion. Over the years, the dreams began to dwindle quickly. The last time I had a dream like this was months ago. I had finally thought I had put the past behind me but it appears that isn’t the case.

I rose from my position. Rays of sunlight were beginning to pierce the maroon sky. I sighed in relief, the source of light all ready comforting me. I looked around and what I once thought looked threatening appeared safe and normal once again. I then realized that the barracks was not far away and my journey carried on at a more reasonable pace this time.

The Kvatch barracks was located directly beside the gateway that led to the Castle of Ormellius Goldwine, the Count of the town. Its position proved to be the perfect defence for the Castle as troops could immediately aid the Count should trouble rise. Over the last few years should trouble had yet to rise, a feat that I found much pride in. My men and I cracked down heavily on the various smuggling operations that had long existed in the town due to the rule the previous Count held. Now, crime was almost a memory to the people of Kvatch. Sure, there was the odd robbery or mugging, but we did our best to keep this one of the safest towns in Cyrodiil. Since the removal of the corruption in the town, I had made it a personal goal to keep things going as well as they have been.

The guard standing watch outside the barracks gave me a salute as I approached and smirked. “Early start for you today, sir,” he commented congenially.

I returned the salute. “Yep, I woke up early and couldn’t go back to bed so I thought I may as well.”

The guard simply nodded and opened the door for me. I walked in and was greeted with the all too familiar flickering torchlight of the barracks. The stone building was built for defence so there were not too many windows within the corridors of the fortification. Even during the day the torches burned, that was how little light entered into this section of the barracks. I proceeded down the hallway, my leather shoes echoing softly against the stone walls. Echoes of other men and women roaming the building could be heard as well. The barracks could provide rooms for the entire Town Guard if needed so there was often much activity going on within the confines of the building. During the night and early morning, it was the Night Shift and conversely, the Day Shift kept things busy during the day. I personally found much comfort in the constant buzz of the building. It is the silence that gets to me. I always get a feeling that I’m being hunted while things are silent.

At the far end of the corridor, I reached my office. I unlocked the door with the large ring of keys I was entitled to and stepped in. The same neat and orderly room greeted my vision. I am a man that enjoys his simplicity so I must admit my office is fashioned in a Spartan nature; just an uncluttered desk, a few thinly padded chairs, a coat and cloak rack, and a large cabinet filled with drawers for all my paperwork. As Captain of the Town Guard I received lots of paperwork which usually consisted of reports and investigations from my men and scheduling information. All financial and expenses were handled by a town official who had the office across the corridor from mine. I was glad I didn’t have to deal with such things; numbers and figures weren’t things I cared for. That doesn’t mean I don’t hold respect for those who can handle such things. In fact it is quite the opposite; I admire those who can do something I cannot.

I turned around and removed the papers and envelopes contained in the mailbox that was built into the door. It was rather convenient since guards that couldn’t find me could simply stick their reports or whatever information they wanted into the slot on the front of my door. Shuffling through the paperwork I slowly made my way to my chair. All of it was the usual paperwork I received on a daily business. That was until I turned up the last one.

It was a personal summons from the Count. No intention or emotion was held within the note, just a formal summons to meet Count Goldwine before noon today. I dropped the note onto the desk and neatly placed the rest of my paperwork beside it. I contemplated when exactly I should meet the Count. Over the years of working for him I found he was an early starter just like me. A person who had lived the military life rarely seemed to escape early starts. So based on that I knew he would be awake by now. Looking at the stack of papers beside the note and I judged that there wasn’t that the time to handle the stack wouldn’t take long. My curious piqued and my decision made, I rose from my desk. It was time to see the Count.


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There's one thing I need to figure out before I get to the brunt of the story. I want to get to that brunt quickly but I know I need to do a few things first, I just need to figure out what those things are... Oooh! I just got it now... Hehe, that idea should prove well...