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]

A little bit of a shorter one today, surgery does be bothering my concentration. I'm expecting my next update to be a bit more interesting.


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The Count blew a sigh of relief once Savlian vacated the gardens. He now had a situation to deal with. He needed to find out if any of the skooma dealers were apprehended. If one of them were, Goldwine needed to relieve the guard of their prisoner for “private interrogation”. If the Guard were to interrogate any skooma dealers his whole operation could be blown! Even the Count of a town can be executed for dealing with the stuff. It was Imperial Law, it was above him. A sense of panic and anxiety was building up in him.

“Brixley, I want you to immediately find Hlodir. Tell him to pay a visit to the town barracks and relieve any prisoners that have been arrested under charges of drug smuggling. They are to be interrogated by the Count’s private enforcement,” the Count ordered Brixley. A simple nod confirmed the message and Brixley calmly strolled away.

The stress had been unbelievable lately for the Count. Now things had become worse. Another murder threatened the reputation he had for running Kvatch, and now there was the chance that he could get arrested for breaking Imperial law.

He needed to get out of the sun now that his parasol was gone, so Count proceeded into his castle to try to cool himself down. Unfortunately the anxiety was making him perspire intensely. He almost felt like praying to the Nine that this current situation would work out for his benefit. He knew though that his success was based on his motives and not that of the Nine. What he needed right now to calm him down was food. Food always did his nerves good. It was the most probable fact of why he possessed a little pudge with his body.

After helping himself to some cold mutton and some cheese Brixley appeared in the dining hall. The ever blank expression across his face gave no sign of what he was going to say. Goldwine hoped that it was good news.

“Sir, Hlodir has brought an Orc by the name of Uragh into your private dungeons for interrogation. Would you like to see her?” asked the butler.

A broad grin crossed Goldwine’s face as he rose out of his seat. “Lead the way, Brixley.”


The dungeons of Castle Kvatch held a special place in the Count’s heart. He had many eventful experiences within these cold, stone walls of his dungeons. Many screams have echoed across the empty halls. Many pleas for mercy have went unanswered. Many supposed “runaways” ended up here; their intelligence rewarded with their death. Just hearing the pained panting coming from the upcoming cell sent chills of pleasure down Goldwine’s spine. Hlodir had all ready started his work.

The Count entered the cell in time to see Hlodir give Uragh a solid slap across the face. The flesh on flesh exclamation echoed loudly. Fresh blood trickled from the corner of Uragh’s mouth from the blow. She cursed audibly. When her eyes glimpsed the Count, they widened in fear. She knew what was going to happen.

Goldwine sadly looked down at the Orc chained to the walls. “Uragh, Uragh, Uragh. You screwed up. You do know what that means, correct?”

Tears streamed across Uragh’s face now. “Please sir, you don’t have to kill me. I tried so hard not to get caught, just like you asked. I never told none of the guard that it was you who wanted the skooma. I didn’t tell no one!” she begged, dropping down to her knees.

“I can’t trust you back on the streets, even if I did pardon you. It would get suspicious eyes on my back. I’m doing you a favour. Would you rather stay locked up in the dungeons for the rest of your life, or just end your miserable existence, you good-for-nothing Orc!” the Count’s anger had finally snapped, “You ruined my whole operation! Now I have to find some new lowlifes to get my operation back on track. That could lead to me getting caught again and the potential chance of me getting arrested! All because you could not simply keep the operation hidden. I pretty much had the whole thing planned out, but your stupidity lead Savlian to find you!”

In the heat of his rant the Count grabbed a nearby dagger and stormed over to the now cowering Orc. Each stab accented each word, “You! Failed! Me! MISERABLY!! You! Failed! Me! MISERABLY!!” screamed the Count.

He stopped his frantic stabbings for a moment and looked down at himself. “Now look what you’ve done!” he screamed at the corpse of Uragh, “You even ruined my good suit!”

From behind his back Hlodir chuckled.