Bloodlust, Written by a Fan Fiction Newbie Options

[The Metal Mallet]

Greetings, I have been a fairly longtime reader of the Fan Fiction section of these forums (back when it was still W4O) as a guest. I thought it was about time to get out of "veil" per se. Hopefully, this Fan Fic will be enjoyable for you guys as your fics have been enjoyed by me. Criticism is always appreciated. Anyways, here it is!


- Bloodlust -

The knife slashed through the man’s throat with ease, causing an eruption of blood to pour out the gaping tare. A shocked gurgle escapes the man’s lips as he begins to pale. The only warmth he feels is the body that is holding him up and the bodily fluid running down his chest. His eyes finally cloud over, still locked in their state of shock. The body is then silently lowered to the ground.

The killer stares down at his latest handiwork. What a rush! The sound of the blade tearing through skin and flesh, the sudden burst of blood spouting out the wound, even the sickly sweet scent of the man’s life force intoxicated him. He inhaled the scent deeply as he bent over to clean off his knife on the man’s shirt. This was just another stepping stone in order to prepare himself for his main goal.

Vengeance, he thought, I will have it soon. I just need to make sure my skills are up to par to get away with this. Hopefully this gets you quivering in those expensive boots of yours as well.

The figure cloaked in darkness exited the alley where he committed his crime, casually integrating with the night’s pedestrians. As he passed a homeless man and his fire barrel, he casually tossed his bloodstained gloves into the flames. An experienced killer will not leave any incriminating evidence. Fortunately he didn’t get any blood on his clothes this time.

After handing the homeless man some coins, he continued on. The journey home was uneventful after that. No one paid any attention to the moderately well-dressed man walking down the street. No one knew the chaotic thoughts running through his mind at the moment. No one knew the pain and suffering he has gone through to get this far, or the lengths to which he’ll go to achieve what he wants. All they see is an average man who prefers black colours and cloaks. No one would suspect he was the one behind the current string of murders that have been happening.

The killer arrived at his home, located in a quiet, peaceful part of Kvatch. As he hung up his cloak, he contemplated his next move. The best approach would be to wait a couple of days before initiating his next murder. There was no need to be hasty and become careless. The point was to get away with his mission in the end; suspicions must be avoided at all costs.

As he climbed into bed, his thoughts were still running through his actions of the night, reliving every beautifully bloody moment. He closed his eyes and knew what his dream was going to be. It has always been the same recently.

Sweet, bloody revenge.

This post has been edited by The Metal Mallet: Jun 19 2006, 05:52 AM

[The Metal Mallet]

Great job Metal Mullet biggrin.gif and keep up the good work...

My hair might grow long in the back, but I hope to avoid mullets at all cost! I think they would look terrible on me. Of course, this is all in good humor.

The Sherlock Holmes comments are quite flattering But I do see the relation, forensics can't really exist in either of those times. And right now, I can't see cases being solved with magic. So logical deduction would fit the best in TES.

Anyways, thanks for commenting so far, on with more!


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With Captain Matius dealt with for the day, the Count could now continue with the rest of the day’s more… rewarding duties. Tax collections. Oh how the Count loved collecting his money. He had a nice comfortable sum locked away in the town’s coffers. Sure, he had to give some of it away due to the provincial laws for pension plans, widower funds, and orphanages, but he could control how much he gave out. This left some people unhappy, angry even, but the Count had long since developed a method to keep these people from voicing their feelings to the public.

It just so happened that his method needed to be invoked today. The proprietor of a local bank was beginning to raise complaints about the insufficient amount of funds to provide for his customers, according to the Count’s observatory network. With situations like these, it is best to have it taken care of before it became a problem. The Count planned on using his problem solver. Seemed logical enough. A problem exists, who better to solve it than a problem solver?

“Brixley!”

Moments later, a soft pattering of feet lets the Count know that Brixley has arrived. “Sir?”

“I need to speak with Hlodir please. Let him know it’s rather urgent.”

“As you wish sir.” With that, Brixley quickly vacates the Count’s room. His footsteps quickly fade away.

Goldwine slides into a more comfortable position in the cushioned chair. He stares intently into the flames in the fireplace, as it was a chilly day in Kvatch, and takes a sip from a vintage Tamika wine. He could all ready hear the septims spilling into his hands.

Meanwhile, in town...

A cry of anguish rises out of the Bosmer as Hlodir nearly breaks his opponent’s hand against the tavern table. Laughter erupts from the rest of the patrons of the tavern as the Bosmer silently sulks away, clutching his injured hand, and Hlodir scoops up his earnings from the “friendly wager” of an arm wrestle. Strangers were always so gullible to Hlodir’s tactics. He enjoyed playing up the stereotypical Nord; a drunken, slow-witted people from the cold, harsh north. Unlike some, Hlodir had brains. Sure he was a drunken brute at heart, he was a Nord, but he enjoyed using his cunning to take advantage of people. Generally strangers, as they were generally ignorant. When they meet Hlodir, they see the massively drunken Nord they expect to find at a tavern. In reality, Hlodir wasn’t drunk, he knew the feeling well enough to put up a showing of being drunk, but his mind was as clear as a Skyrim river in the spring. Once a challenge is made, the stranger thinks they can win a large sum of coin, taking advantage of Hlodir’s drunkenness, but they soon find out that Hlodir is indeed, not drunk. Today the unfortunate Bosmer found that out.

“A round for me friends dear barkeep!” cries Hlodir, which is quickly followed by cheers from the patrons of the tavern. Hlodir returns back to his mead; since his fun for today was done, it would be fine to get drunk now. He downs the large mug quickly, gulping loudly. Upon completion a large bang is heard from the mug being slammed onto the table. A hearty belch follows shortly after. Hlodir sighs happily. There’s nothing better after a fine amount of winnings than a large mug of mead.

Around 3 or 4 mugs latter, Hlodir never was one to remember how many mugs he drank, a tap on his shoulder turns him around. A sneer began to spread across his face from noticing the rags and dirt that covered the fellow, beggars were always bothering him to spare his coinage, but it stopped short once he saw the face. It was Brixley, his employer’s butler. “What do ya want, lapdog?”

“Our employer wishes to speak with you; he said it was rather urgent,” Brixley meekly stated.

“Well you go tell him that I’ll show in the next half hour, I got a drink t’finish,” Hlodir said, all ready returning back to his drink. He knew that Brixley was all ready on his way to the Count. He also knew the limits of Verny’s patience. At least it looked like his fun for today wasn’t going to end. Goldwine always had interesting duties for him. Good thing he wasn’t too drunk yet.

Hlodir the Nord finished off the last of his mead, sat up, fixed his collar on his expensive shirt, then proceeded out the tavern. More earnings were to be made today.


Later on...

Adamus Prophilis, proprietor of the Kvatch local bank was glad the day was about to end. Today had been exceptionally busy; many customers wanted to make transactions but most were left disappointed. He simply couldn’t give out so much money anymore, the town taxes kept pulling money out. It was rather frustrating. Having to deal with complaining customers each and every day made him wish to do something violent. Just something to make them quiet. Anything. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that to a person. What he could do though, was question why so much money was being taken from him. Taxes normally do not cost that much. Many other establishments seemed to be doing just fine, so why was his business nearly bankrupt? No matter, these were thoughts to think about for another day. For now, Adamus just wanted to get home.

Adamus was just about to lock up the front door and leave out the back when the door popped open. Adamus groaned inwardly. The last minute customer, how I despise you, thought Adamus as he put on his best fake smile for the well-dressed Nord who walked in. “Hello sir, welcome to the Kvatch Bank! How can I help you?”

“Greetings t’ya good sir, I would just like t’make a small deposit this evening. Sorry about arriving so late, am no trouble am I?’ asked the large Nord nicely.

“Absolutely not good sir. Like I say, ‘any business is good business’,” Adamus replied, “Now lets see how much you’re going to deposit.”

The Nord pulled out a rather large purse of septims. Adamus had never dealt with this much money before. This was definitely good business indeed. “Ya see, the situation is that I’m making sure the damn town doesn’t take my money. Taxes have been killing me lately. It almost seems as if they’re trying t’rob me,” the Nord said, looking rather upset about the situation.

So, this poor fellow has the same problem as I do. Maybe I should share my sentiments…

“I know exactly how you feel. I think the town is doing the exact same thing with me. I was actually thinking about complaining to the Count. I now have more incentive to if other people are suffering from this like me,” Adamus said eagerly, hoping the Nord would think it’s a good idea.

“Well that does sound fine and dandy but I gots a better idea. Since the town has been messin’ with you, I think it is your turn t’mess with them. Sounds good, no?” rumbled the large Nord.

“And how would I do that? Do you all ready have an idea?” asked Adamus. He couldn’t believe the good luck he just struck. A way to screw over the Count! It was perfect. It would only take the information this Nord could provide. His wife would be overjoyed!

“Well…,” the Nord looked over at the front door, “I want t’avoid anyone hearing about this. Do ya have a way to make this more private, lad?”

It took a second for Adamus to catch on. “Oh! Sure, it’s past closing time anyways,” he said, attempting to cover up his moment of stupidity. He locked the front door and tugged on it a few times to make sure it was locked. This was a bank, there’s always a chance criminals would want to attempt to break in. “My office is a nice quiet place we can talk about this. Follow me.”

Adamus led the Nord into the back of the bank, where his office was located in a quiet corner. He loved that his office was windowless. There are just too many distractions outside when you need to get work done. Lamps work perfectly fine for light.

“Okay, so what is this pla-” Adamus said while turning around before abruptly being silenced by a mound of flesh compacting with his face.

Flashes of light and darkness filled Adamus’ mind when suddenly he realized he wasn’t standing up anymore. Somehow he had fallen. It was rather confusing; so much that his head hurt. A sudden coppery taste washed upon his tongue. It took a moment for Adamus to realize it was blood. But whose? Surely it couldn’t be his. How could that happen?

He was about to ask that question aloud when suddenly he felt nothing but air between his feet as someone was holding him up. The flashes and fuzziness stopped for a moment to show Adamus that it was his new Nord friend holding him up. How nice, he’s helping me up, I must’ve fainted or something. Work has been so hard on me lately…, he thought.

His thought process began to change when suddenly no one was holding him up anymore, yet there was still air between his feet. He first felt the bone-jarring hit against the wall before he felt his feet crumpled against the floor. Pain racked up and down his body.

“Ya know, ya shouldn’t say things that could get a man hurt in front of strangers. Ya never know who might be listenin’.”

Who was saying that? It sounded familiar but Adamus couldn’t place it. The flashes had returned and the coppery taste in his mouth was making him feel sick. A slap jarred his senses and left the right side of his face numb. A quiet splash of blood hitting the floor was heard.

“Hey! Look at me lad when I’m speaking to ya!” the familiar voice said harshly.

Adamus tried to focus his eyes, he didn’t want to get hit anymore. Everything hurt. What did he do to deserve this? “Please… no more,” he said weakly.

Adamus’ eyes focussed to reveal that it was the Nord who was looking down at him. It wasn’t the same person though. His face was covered in darkness and his eyes burned with hatred. Adamus was petrified.

“Ahhh, so ya want me t’stop, eh? Well the Count does not want to hear anymore talk about your money problems then. Ya see, me job is t’make sure people keep their traps shut. Next time ya see me, I’ll make ya disappear. Understand?”

Adamus nodded slowly.

“Good,” Hlodir said as he brushed himself off, straighten his collar, and headed to the door. Just before exiting he stopped and looked back at the bank proprietor, “Next time ye be careful when going down the stairs, ya hear?”

With that, he was gone.

This post has been edited by The Metal Mallet: Jun 22 2006, 05:35 PM