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]

I just want to mention something for my piece. For some reason I think I'm having tense issues with some of my paragraphs. I'm not too sure myself, but if anyone notices any tense issues, I'd be grateful if you pointed them out.

For someone with English as their native tongue, it's weird that we can still have problems with this kind of stuff. English, what a fickle language!

On with more!


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Over the last few days, an eerie silence had fallen over the town of Kvatch. The patrons of the town hurried about with their duties. They very rarely stopped to converse with each other. Doors were often locked during the day; even when the residents were still inside. None of them wanted to tempt the “Kvatch Killer”. Just because whoever it was has only been murdering guards, did not mean they wouldn’t move onto the citizens of the town.

Savlian did not like the current situation at all. His guard and the killer had seemed to have reached a stalemate. While Savlian’s new patrol method seemed to be working, his spies for the released convicts had yet to report any suspicious behaviour. It was a stalemate that the killer still had the advantage in. Savlian still had no idea who this person was and until he did, the killer was free to do as they pleased, so long as they kept up the effort of leaving no evidence.

Frustrated, Savlian continued his patrol. Living up to his own plan, he had the rookie, a Redguard by the name of Ferrik, on patrol with him. He was the younger brother of one of the veterans of the force, Henrik. What Savlian intended to do today with Ferrik was teach him the ropes of being a town guard. He wanted to show him what to look for while on patrol, how to take care of situations in a non-lethal matter, and how to follow up on leads given to the guard by citizens. Standard stuff. Ferrik didn’t really need any pointers on how to defend himself. Like most Redguards, his swordsmanship was extraordinary. He still needed to know that the responsibility of a guard is to prevent violence, not provoke it. If a situation could be handled without drawing your weapon, Savlian expected his men to solve it without violence.

It hadn’t always been that way. Before Savlian became the Captain of the Guard, there were many accounts of unnecessary violence of behalf of the guards. After enduring his previous occupation as long as he could, the Captain of the Guard position called to him. He needed to atone for the deeds he committed in his past…

So lost in his thoughts was Savlian, that he didn’t notice the person walking around the corner of the upcoming street and walked right into him.

“Are ye blind lad! Why don’t ya-,” began Hlodir but then noticed who he was talking down to, “Well, would ya looky at this. It do be Savlian! How are ya?”

Savlian’s eyes darkened.

“I’m fine. Now if you’ll excuse us…”

Savlian attempted to continue on but a muscular arm blocked his way. Savlian followed the arm up to Hlodir’s grinning face. “You do know it is an offence to lay your hands on a town guard, correct?”

Hlodir lowered his arm but kept his wide grin. “Well that’s no very nice t’say t’a friend. You must be stressed from this murderer thingy. Have ya caught ‘em yet?” Hlodir asked, faking concern.

A cold stare was the only answer Savlian gave.

“No yet then? Ohwell, I guess ya have things t’do, so I best be leavin’ ya,” Hlodir finished before continuing on his way down the street, chuckling the whole time.

“Umm … sir? What was that about?” Ferrik asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about. Let’s keep going,” replied Savlian coldly.

Savlian hated everything Hlodir represented. He knew about Hlodir’s duties as a “problem solver”. In fact, he knew them quite well, as he first started his work with the Count as his “problem solver”. At first, he thought he was punishing criminals. They payout was excellent, and it was easy to rough up criminals to try to straighten them out, so why not do it? Once he did find out though…



Savlian slammed the scrawny Bosmer onto the table, causing the table to splinter loudly. That wasn’t a problem though, the Bosmer’s farm wasn’t close enough to anything for someone to overhear the “business” that was taking place.

“Okay, you scum, the Count knows what you’ve been saying about him, and he wants your slanders to desist. This is your warning, if we happen to cross each other again in this situation, no one is ever going to see you again. Got that?”

“What are you talking about?” sobbed the Bosmer, “I haven’t said anything criminal. I just said I was being overtaxed…”

“You dirty liar!” Savlian yelled as he grabbed the Bosmer’s arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed him into the wall violently, “Now admit your slanders, or more pain is going to happen…”

“But I’m not lying! I’m not lying! It was just the taxes! By Talos I swear! Stop please!” wailed the little Bosmer.

Dumbfounded by the Bosmer's outright swearing to Talos, Savlian slowly released his grip on the Bosmer and backed away. He stared at the Bosmer intensely, “You’re not lying are you?”

“Why would I!? I’m just a farmer, what could I do that’s possibly criminal? I can barely afford my home, that’s why I’ve been saying that I’m being overtaxed…”

Speechless, Savlian quickly vacated the small farm. He needed answers from the only person who knew the truth…



The truth from that pained memory was that the Count had lied to him about his “problems” being criminals. They were merely people who were catching onto his money scam on the city who needed their mouths shut. It tore Savlian up inside that he did such horrible things to innocent people. In order to try to make up for what he did, he requested to the Count to be his Captain of his Guard. The Count granted that request and hired Hlodir to take over the “problem solving business”. Unlike Savlian, Hlodir knew exactly that he was hurting innocent people, he relished it. That made Savlian sick to his stomach. He couldn’t do much about it either. If he were to arrest or kill Hlodir, he would be only killing himself as the Count would likely charge Savlian for treason. Savlian now tried to fix things indirectly. He tried to convince the Count to give back more of the money, and lower the taxes on the residents he was overtaxing. He hoped that the little effort he could do would be enough to keep people from openly voicing their complaints.

Savlian sighed. There’s only so much I can do for this town, and it’s still not enough for what I’ve done…

Savlian, now silent continued down the street with Ferrik, who was now concerned about his Captain. But being the rookie that he was, he didn’t know if he should voice his concern. He shrugged inwardly. There must be a lot going on in his mind right now…


Later that night…

The sensation was building up again… “Blood!” it screamed, “Give me blood!”

The pounding of the sensation was beginning to give the killer a headache. This was the worse this sensation had gotten for him so far. Never before had the feeling of reckless… violence been so strong within him. He desired to release his fury upon his enemy immediately. To bathe in his blood, to inhale the wonderful fumes of his life force. He wanted to witness the spark and cackle in his enemy’s eyes fade away to nothingness.

But in order to do that successfully, he needed to wait. He needed to make sure he was ready. He needed to be calm…

“Blood!”

Remember your training…, he told himself, void your mind…

“Blood! It calls! Don’t you hear it!?”

A flash of anguish crossed the killer’s face. Patience! He thought, the time for blood will present itself shortly. Hopefully then this pounding will leave…

The killer strolled casually along the streets of Kvatch, eyes always searching yet not appearing so to the passer-by. Something seemed… different tonight, as if the atmosphere of the town had morphed into something more uncomfortable for him. A hint of reluctance was beginning to creep into his mind. But the raging pulse taking up the core of his mind fended it off into the dark recesses of his mind. There should be no reluctance at all. He was a trained killer. What he ran into, he should be able to deal with. Tonight he would further his conquest.

I can hear the blood spilling all ready, he thought as a smile broke across his face.