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 seems things have sloooowed down here Ohwell, I had difficulty getting this one out, I really wanted to get to another flashback but writing just this little bit just has drained me, so I decided to get the preamble out now and post the flashback next time. So sorry about the slight boredom with this one in advance


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Lavos walked down the streets of Kvatch with a grim expression. His second visit with Simion left no doubt that he was behind these murders. It grieved him deeply that he would now be forced to kill the man who trained him in the ways of the Morag Tong, but that was what their doctrine stated: Those who retired must end their practice of the assassination art. The punishment for breaking it was death without mercy. Yet, even with that rule, Lavos did not wish to kill Simion. For example, he wasn’t sure his technique would be capable enough to defeat his former master and trainer. Simion still possessed some of the best natural skill that the Guild was privileged to have received. He would need assistance.

He entered “The Dining Lodge” where he was staying for his duration in Kvatch. The room was slightly hazy from pipe smoke and the pleasant scent of roasting mutton wafted out of the doors leading into the kitchen. A few of the tenants looked up from their mugs or conversations to see who the newcomer was. They turned away once they got a looked at the Dunmer wearing a simple robe (wearing a Guild robe would be asking for the Dark Brotherhood’s attention). Lavos waved to the innkeeper as he headed to his room. The Imperial, cleaning out a mug simply nodded a greeting and returned to the conversation he was having with a patron.

Closing his room door, the din of the inn was immediately silenced. Lavos stood in place for a few moments, drinking in the silence. An assassin like himself seemed to find comfort in silence. When there’s silence that means there generally isn’t anything that could surprise you. With silence there was safety. Most of the time. A great assassin can instil fear even in the silence. Only a few could do that, and Lavos wasn’t sure if he was one of them. He knew for certain that Simion was though. Fortunately, Lavos felt confident that Simion was still within his home, or else he would have reason to feel some anxiety.

Lavos took a seat at the desk provided for him and took out a piece of parchment along with quills and ink. He took a moment to compose his thoughts and then began to write.
Upon completion, he looked at what he wrote:

To my fellow guild members,

I arrived in Kvatch safely; the journey was long but it gave me time to collect myself. My hopes for Simion’s innocence were forsaken. He is indeed the culprit and thus, must be removed. The madness in his eyes gave away his lies. I fear that I may need assistance, as he has maintained his skills. I intend to monitor him and attempt to prevent him from killing again, though doing so will likely end my life. I’m quite sure he will not expect me to send this letter, so use discretion upon arrival. Only then, will we be able to end his madness once and for all. May Mephala guide my hands in this endeavour. Since this may be the last thing I write, I want you to know I value my time spent with the Guild. I couldn’t ask for a better second home.

Lavos


Lavos reread the letter, making sure he had written down what he wanted. After folding up the letter into the envelop, Lavos melted some black wax onto the letter to seal it. He then stamped the letter with the insignia for the Morag Tong. Looking at the note in satisfaction, Lavos headed back downstairs with it.

Lavos walked up to the innkeeper, concealing the letter. “If I needed something sent with urgency and moderate secrecy, who would I go to?”

The innkeeper looked at Lavos thoughtfully for a few moments. He then smirked. “I happen to employ someone who deals with those types of “somethings” quite well. I need a few more details though,” said the innkeeper, keeping his voice low.

“I need this letter to get to Mournhold. From there, my informant can pass it on to the right people,” Lavos said calmly. The reaction he read from the innkeeper told him this wasn’t going to be cheap.

“Mournhold’s quite a distance away… but if you want it rushed, I can get it there in a week at the earliest. Though from the looks of you, I don’t think you can afford it,” the innkeeper mused.

Lavos cautiously revealed two small purses, fat with septims. “They’re gold too, if that was what you’re wondering,” Lavos said casually, “If you want them, just deliver a letter to the innkeeper at “The Winged Guar” in Godreach. Tell him, “The Webspinner spins a message”. He’ll understand.”

The Imperial nodded and said, “Come. We need to update your lodging fee.”

Lavos followed the Imperial into an office-like room beside the bar table. Closing the door behind him, the din of the inn died once more.

“I understand your apprehension about exposing that much gold, so I thought it best to finish our business in here. My inn is generally a safe one, but you never know who’s paying too much attention,” the innkeeper stated, looking expectantly at Lavos.

Lavos simply handed over the money and letter and reminded the innkeeper of their agreement. The innkeeper assured him and gave him a bonus. Drinks tonight were on the innkeeper. Now that was an offer he couldn’t refuse.