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]

Well it's nice seeing you back and commenting, Mazelure, I appreciate them. Especially from those consistantly posted, it's nice to see you're enjoying my writing . Even those just reading, thanks for giving this a chance. But enough of my sappy appreciation Update time!


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As Savlian approached the Dralen residence, voices coming from along the outer wall were steadily getting louder. Silently, Savlian strafed across the road and flattened his back against a neighbouring house. Peaking around the edge, he had an excellent scope of Vadame’s home. Moments after Savlian found his cover, two figures appeared heading to Vadame’s house, cloaks over their heads to avoid the rain. Both the figures were rather large and a distinctive rattling of glass bottles reached Savlian’s ears even from the distance where he was situated. Before approaching the door, the figures cast glances around their surroundings guardedly. Savlian was able to identify one of the figures as a Nord, due to a distinctive beard. Satisfied that the coast was clear, the figures knocked on the door and patiently waited for it to open.

Moments later the door opened and a young, red-haired Dunmer poked her head out the doorway to survey the street before allowing the figures to enter. Savlian was able to see the whole scene from his vantage point. Indeed it did seem these figures were shady. Even Vadame herself had shown a want of secrecy. Not to mention the rattling bottles could be among a number of illegal things. Savlian had a vague idea what exactly were in those bottles. The best thing to do was investigate.

Savlian hesitated a moment. He wasn’t in the ideal physical condition at the moment to confront likely 3 armed suspects, 2 at the least. It would probably be a good idea to go get some assistance. Then again, by the time he did that the suspects could be gone, having completed their business with Dralen. Indecision reflected in Savlian’s eyes. Did he have time to get help? Or could he take on these criminals? Realization then sparked. He still had the advantage of surprise. He peeked around the corner of the house and noticed that Vadame had her drapes blocking the windows. He could get in front of the door without them seeing him getting there. If he could rush into the house and disarm everyone, no conflicts would arrive. Savlian had made up his mind.

He quickly closed the distance between him and the Dralen home, thanking the rain for masking the sound of his heavy boots smacking against the cobblestones. He now stood in front of the door, adrenaline beginning the pump through his veins. The pain and swollenness from last night receded. Flexing his fingers, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his broadsword. Easing the well-honed blade out of its sheath, Savlian took a steady breath to ease his nerves. This was a risk he was now committed to. He couldn’t pull back now, even if he wanted to without jeopardizing catching these criminals. He slowly knocked on the door. The murmurs from the other side of the door quickly died and footsteps approached.

“Who is it?” called a female voice.

“Tax Collector,” Savlian said calmly, taking a step back from the door. It was about time he used this method for something good.

As the door opened up a crack so Vadame could peer out at the would-be Tax Collector, Savlian heavily kicked the door, sending the Dunmer sprawling across the floor. Savlian charged in, sword ready into the room. The Nord went for a hand axe resting on the table, but a quick smash over the head with a broadsword hilt incapacitated the Nord. Turning his sword on the other figure, Savlian said “Hands up!” The figure complied. Savlian approached the now recognized Orc, and removed him of his weapon.

“Sit!” he commanded, surveying the room. The room was lightly furnished with the necessities, a couple of chairs and a table. On the table rested multitudes of skooma bottles. Just as he expected. He looked over at the Orc. “Where did you get the drugs?”

The Orc stared at him angrily, keeping his mouth firmly shut. It looked like some persuasion was needed to get what Savlian wanted. Savlian edged closer to the Orc. “I’ll ask you nicely one last time, Orc. Where did you get the drugs?” Vicious intent was clearly evident in Savlian’s eyes.

Before the Orc could speak, a terrifying screech sounded from across the room. Before Vadame stood a ghostly spectre, shrilling its death-like call. Vadame pointed directly at Savlian, smiling intently. The spirit then rushed at Savlian. Instinctively, Savlian grabbed the silver throwing dagger within his boot. Taking quick aim, Savlian threw the dagger, flying through the spirit and embedding itself in the shoulder of Vadame. The spectre wailed in pain as it dissipated while Vadame collapsed to the floor unconscious.

Turning around Savlian was suddenly bowled over by the Orc rushing out of the house, carrying as much skooma as he could possibly get his hands on. Cursing, Savlian ignored the vacancy of the Orc; he still had two perfect culprits to get answers from. A groan from Savlian’s right revealed that the Nord was coming to. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t going to like it.

Savlian roughly picked up the Nord and shoved him into a chair. “Now you’re going to tell me where you got these drugs from!” he said angrily.

Bewilderment was still evident in the stunned Nord’s eyes. Looking around, the Nord groaned, “Where’s Lug-Arglog?”

An idea instantly formulated in Savlian’s head. “He’s outside, dead. I did you a favour, you would’ve thrown up if you saw what I did to him,” Savlian sighed, “He should’ve talked…”

The Nord stared at Savlian in horror, gulping audibly. “Drugs ya asked abou‘? Right! Err, a Nord by the name o’ Hlodir told use t'deliver this skooma to Vadame. She distributes it to the local dealers… I think,” the Nord blurted out as quickly as possible.

Hlodir! That could only mean the Count is involved in this… Savlian thought. Things had just become more difficult.

“Well then, looks like you and Vadame here are going to pay a visit to the prison.”