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]

Simion woke to a reeling sensation in his head. Bolting upright nearly caused him to vomit from the sudden movement. The stench of blood was rank in the air and it only added to Simion’s nausea. It surprised him that blood would do that to him. He then realized why, as he was looking down at his arm. The blood was his. Looking at his bed, he saw the large red patch of dried plasma on his bed. With that sight still in his eyes, the remaining strength in his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor, panting loudly. He scolded himself for falling asleep with a mild wound, for the blood loss had sapped nearly all his strength. He crawled over to his lower cupboard where he kept a various assortment of poisons and potions. Opening it, he searched through the bottles until he found the one he wanted. Downing it in one swig, Simion immediately felt the affects of the restore strength potion.

With his replenished strength, Simion examined his wound. The wound wasn’t deep, merely a wide gash that would bleed a lot, and bleed it did. It was now bruised around the edges and his shoulder was stained crimson from the seepage of the wound. The wound itself was now a coagulated mess of dried blood. It would likely leave quite a scar once fully healed. Simion was just fortunate that it didn’t bleed more than it did, else he wouldn’t know what kind of condition he’d be in. He felt very foolish. He could’ve bled out during the night and all his effort would be for naught.

He then set out to clean up the mess. If he were to get a visitor, it wouldn’t be a good idea for them to see a bloodstained house, less they get any ideas. He first cleaned himself up by washing the blood coating his arm and dressing the wound with a salve. He then went about cleaning the bloodstains on the floor as best he could and incinerated his bed sheets. That much blood was not going to come out. He sighed as he saw the mattresses itself was stained. He couldn’t afford a new one at the moment so he simply flipped the thing over, chuckling at his ingenuity. It had taken him all morning to clean the place up, so he was famished.

After finishing his meal of boar meat with steamed vegetables, he then set about formulating his next move. He was about to make a big decision. Due to the previous night’s fiasco, he couldn’t trust his mind with more preparation missions. Then again, his condition caused him to make a rookie mistake, and those had to be avoided like the plague if he were to successfully complete his revenge. He rested his head against the table, torn with indecision. If only his mind was fine! His choice would be a simply one then. A knocking on his door snapped him out of his dilemma.

Opening the door, Simion found himself staring into the all-too-familiar eyes of Lavos, burning in their intense reddened gaze. “Back so soon, Lavos?”

A hint of amusement flickered across Lavos’ face. “Yes, I just stumbled across something quite… odd I guess would be the word for it.”

Simion registered that something was going amiss, but still kept the conversation light. “Well what was so “odd” about it?”

“Oh, I just noticed the town guard posting these up all over town,” he said, laying down a piece of parchment.

Simion could barely keep a straight face as he looked at the piece of paper with his face on it. The headline read:

WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ON SUSPICIONS OF MULTIPLE HOMICIDE
ANY LEADS ARE TO BE REPORTED TO THE TOWN BARRACKS

“Have you been lying to your apprentice, Simion?” Lavos inquired darkly, agitation lurking just on the edge of his voice.

“First of all, you’re my former apprentice, and second, that could be anyone,” Simion said, disregarding the notice.

“I don’t think “anyone” would have a scar above their right brow, much like this one shown here,” Lavos rebutted.

“Well if they are suspicious of me, they can simply take me in. If you didn’t notice from before, I’m a bit of a recluse. People tend to be suspicious of that. I have nothing to hide though,” Simion said, giving a look of certainty to Lavos. Confidence was key here. If Lavos was unconvinced, definite trouble would arrive.

Lavos decided not to press the issue any further and looked around the modestly furnished room, and sniffed indifferently. “The place smells nice, all fresh and clean.”

Simion smiled, he saw through Lavos’ questions like a glass window. “With a rainy day like this, there’s not much else to do but spruce up the abode,” he replied chuckling.

“Do you really think he buys this? He’s no fool! Kill while you have the chance!”

The voice suddenly erupted in Simion’s head causing him to stagger and drop to his knees on the floor. A look on anguish crossed his face as Lavos bent down next to him.

“Simion! Are you all right?” he asked, concern reflected sincerely in his eyes. Simion turned his head towards Lavos and nearly recoiled from the expression in Simion’s eyes. What he saw was pure, malicious intent. It disappeared quickly, but Lavos had all the information he needed now.

“Sorry to scare you there, Lavos. I just had a rough night. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. To be honest, that’s why I cleaned this place up. It reeked of vomit and… other things,” Simion said weakly.

“Well I definitely know how a hangover feels,” Lavos said smiling, “The best thing for me to do is to give you some peace and quiet. Even a little noise can give you such a headache, I know. Trust me.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” Simion said rising from the floor, massaging his temples, “I just hope you’re not offended, friend.”

“Not at all,” Lavos said, reaching the door, “I do hope you feel better.”

“I hope so too,” Simion said, opening the door, “Farewell.”

“Farewell,” Lavos said, returning the formality. Before the door could close though, Lavos grabbed it. “Could you just do me one favour before I leave?”

Simion looked at Lavos’ serious expression for a few moments before answering. “What would you ask of me?”

“Would you turn yourself in to the barracks? This picture is obviously of you, and it’s deeply disconcerting for me to see this,” Lavos asked, though it almost sounded like a plea.

Anger flared up within Simion. “As I said before, if the guards want me badly enough, they can come to me. I’m not going to turn myself in like some guilt-ridden criminal!” Simion said heatedly.

“It’s not like that though, you’d be simply telling them your alibi or something,” Lavos said calmly, tolerating Simion’s heated words.

The anger remained in Simion for a few moments but resignation crept in. “You’re right, once I get over this hangover, I’ll pay a visit to the barracks. Thank you again for your wisdom, Lavos,” Simion said gratefully.

“Bless your intelligence, Simion. It is the right thing to do. Farewell!” Lavos said and finally released the door.

After the soft click of the door closing Simion turned around, the hidden anger now apparent on his face. Turn himself in? He planned to avoid the guard at all costs. But now he was in another dilemma. Knowing Lavos, he’d would “privately escort” Simion to the barracks. If Simion didn’t, he’d be caught lying, and the Guild would come crashing down on him. If he did, then there was the possible chance that the guard would get even more suspicious of him if he answered their questions improperly. Any slip of the tongue and he was done for. He couldn’t risk that with his problem. All most as if being heralded, the voice arrived.

“You know what must be done then. Lavos must die! His blood must be spilt! The Morag Tong will not be suspicious if some thug managed to kill their operative. Kvatch, like any town, has it’s dangers. None will be the wiser…”

“You’re right,” Simion said aloud, grinning maliciously, “It’s the only way…”