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]

Realizing how big this flashback is, I'm kinda glad I posted that smaller one. This one is pretty large for my postings. Hopefully you enjoy it, because I enjoyed writing this one.


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“Parry. Parry. Lunge!” said Simion as he stroke out at Lavos, who was following the commands given to him by his teacher. “Good. Now it‘s time for a break,” Simion said as he blocked the lunge.

Lavos stepped away from his instructor, smiling at a job well done. It still fascinated him seeing Simion use his daggers. At first it took him a little bit to get used to his skills being humbled by Simion, but since then he figured that it was a good thing. How else could he get better at using his daggers if there wasn’t someone better than him? He now appreciated every session he had with Simion, drinking up all the possible knowledge offered.

Both assassins were busy towelling off their sweat when the Grandmaster himself entered the room, a serious expression on his face. “Good, you’re both here. Meet me at my quarters as soon as possible. We’ve serious business to discuss,” Eno Hlaalu quickly stated and vacated the room as both assassins nodded their understanding.

“Let’s step to it then!” said Simion said eagerly as he quickly patted at the sweaty areas on his body. Moments after he gathered up his cloak and ushered Lavos along to the Grandmaster’s quarters.

Lavos knocked quietly on the door before entering. The first sight he saw was Eno huddled over a desk, staring worriedly at a piece of parchment. Before thinking, Lavos said, “Is there a problem, Master?”

Eno jumped from Lavos’ question, looking across the room at them with wide, practically frightened eyes. It shocked Lavos to see the Grandmaster in such a state; his earlier calm demeanour was now shattered. It would take something very serious to scare Eno Hlaalu.

Eno sighed audibly, “Oh, it’s just you, good. Come.”

Both assassins shared a look with each other as they approached the Grandmaster. Both knew that something strange was going on. They also knew it was very serious if Eno was acting suddenly paranoid.

Eno brought his voice down to a whisper, “Now you both know that we’ve been at war with the Dark Brotherhood for a long time, correct? Now what I thought was a minor threat a few minutes ago has changed. Read this note I found as I entered my quarters.”

Lavos and Simion both read the note and their eyebrows raised in shock. By chance a Tong operative entered the Arena under works and discovered a large contingent of Dark Brotherhood agents. The operative could only guess that they’ve been slowly swimming into the under works over a long period of time. He only spotted five agents in view, but he was certain that he heard activity that numbered closer to 3 times that amount.

“We knew of their recent occupation of a Daedric shrine in the St.Olms canton, but this… This astounds me. We’ve become lax in our defences close to home. I fear they may have found our headquarters, or at least deducted that it’s in this canton,” Eno continued, fixing them both with a worried gaze. “Now, the problem is, how do we deal with this threat? If I send too many, our pre-emptive strike will be discovered and a good many lives on both sides will be loss. If I send too few, the great number of opponents might prove too painstaking to take out, and they’ll be discovered.” The Grandmaster pondered silently for a few moments, then continued. “What I’ve decided is to send my two best agents, you two. So prepare yourselves quickly, they could all ready be on our doorstep and if any word of our true location were to get back to their main headquarters, the Guild as we know it could be doomed!”

“Lavos and I will do our best, we won’t fail the Guild, Grandmaster,” Simion said solemnly and vacated the room with Lavos in tow.

Both assassins geared up quickly, grabbing every necessary apparatus to get the job done as silently as possible. While Simion grabbed an impressive looking bow, Lavos loaded up on heavily poisoned throwing knives. Marksmanship, had never interested him. Simion carried two sturdy daggers and had a shortsword strapped to his back. Lavos decided to go with four daggers, two were of Ebony, his family heirlooms. The other two, which he planned to use more readily, were of simple steel. They both doubled checked that they had everything and headed towards the exit of the Guildhall.

Right after Lavos exited the Guildhall, Simion laid a hand on his shoulder and motioned for silence. He silently stalked into the storage room while Lavos hung back, listening intently. A muffled cry reached his ears, shortly followed by Simion reappearing. He waved at Lavos to follow. As Lavos entered the storage room, he noticed the dead Dark Brotherhood agent slumped against the back wall, out of view from those entering the main entrance of the storage room. Lavos swallowed heavily. Seeing an agent that close to the Guildhall was worrisome. There could be a dozen of them roaming the canal works as they stood there. Lavos noticed Simion striding away and quickly followed him.

Lavos wasn’t surprised to find the Ordinators normally guarding the canal works face down in a pool of their own blood. Obviously, the Brotherhood didn’t want any distractions while they searched for the Guildhall. It always troubled him how the innocent are always the true victims during wars such as these. These Dunmer were simply at the wrong place during the wrong time. The whole canton was going to get into an uproar once their bodies were discovered. At least he knew the Guild wouldn’t be threatened by that, as he was quite certain that not even the Temple guard knew of the Guildhall hidden right in their Arena canton.

After searching the rest of the canal level of the canton, they found no other signs of the Dark Brotherhood. Knowing that, Simion decided to break the silence. “We must act quickly. It seems that the agent we ran into was a scout, and I figure they’ll get suspicious if he doesn’t return to report soon. I suggest we take separate entrances into the under works and work our way along. That way, if they begin to catch onto our presence they might believe we are overwhelming them with attacks from different sides.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Let’s just hope that we don’t kill each other while doing so,” Lavos said lightly.

Simion went to the nearby trapdoor. “I’ll take this one, you pick one away from here, that way we’ll likely run into each other when most of them are dead, hopefully,” Simion said grimly. Lavos wished Simion wasn’t always so grim about his work; the man never took a mission lightly. Unlike Lavos, who liked to lighten up the mood with quips every now and then. But now was not the time. He couldn’t take this mission lightly. He quietly watched Simion climb down the trapdoor and then proceeded to find one himself on the opposite side of the canal works.

The stench of fetid water entered Lavos’ nostrils as he entered the under works of the Arena. He had to admit, it would take a strong stomach to swim through that water. He cautiously scanned his surroundings. He realized that no assassin was guarding the trapdoor. He shook his head sadly at the Dark Brotherhood’s ineptitude at conducting cautious protocol. He fingered at his throwing knives nervously, figuring that they would probably be used before the up close and personal daggers.

He stalked through the under works, keeping in the shadows. He knew he had to employ every skill possible, because he was hunting the most difficult prey an assassin could hunt. Another assassin. For if you knew the practices of an assassin, you could better defend it. It took exceptional skill to elude these defences, for he had to be silent enough that the trained ear of an assassin would not hear him. He would have to be precise in every action he was to commit to, for if he didn’t his cover could be blown and he would have multiple trained murderers upon him. It was unnerving to Lavos, who now understood what he was up against. Setting aside his nervousness was difficult, but doable because of his training, and he continued on his path until voices ahead stopped him in his tracks.

“I do believe Jessup should’ve arrived back now with his report These canal works aren’t that big are they?” a foreign voice questioned.

“Give him a few more minutes, Brother. He knows what he’s doing, maybe he found something and is heavily studying it. He is the thorough type,” another voice answered and torchlight was slowly becoming visible to Lavos.

Lavos’ heart jumped. Two! So soon! This would require some risky work. He slid out two throwing knives into his hand and angled himself where he would get a good view of them but remain out of their torchlight. It felt like an eternity for the two assassins, still in conversation to appear, but once they did Lavos prepared himself. He held the knives comfortably in his hands, took careful aim, throw both simultaneously and chased after their path. Two soft sounds of metal piercing flesh reached Lavos’ ears as he reached the two assassins before they fell to the ground. He absorbed their weight and eased them to the ground. Closed-in dark areas were perfect for that technique. A swift footed assassin could throw a knife and catch their victim before they collapsed to the floor loudly if their aim was good. If it wasn’t, the initial shock of the thrown object would normally leave them open for a shortsword or dagger strike once the assassin reached his victim. Lavos was fortunate to achieve a textbook move.

Setting his victims in a dark corner, Lavos continued on, keeping his senses as heightened as possible. He discovered a single patrolling assassin and easily finished him off by slitting their throat. It nearly shocked Lavos that these assassins weren’t in tune with their surroundings at all. Not once did he see the assassin look behind him nervously, even though they knew they were nearby the Guildhall of their enemy. It was almost as if they thought this was their headquarters all along.

A brightly lit area caught Lavos’ attention. Right away he knew this was the main encampment and settled to scope it out before acting. Raucous laughter reached him as he edged closer to the encampment. He saw about 10 assassins huddled around a bonfire talking loudly amongst themselves and drinking. He did noticed that all of them were still armed though, and that posed a serious problem. There were absolutely no shadows to disguise himself in and he lacked the technique for Illusion magic to make himself invisible. He was vastly outnumbered as well…

A small smile crept across Lavos’ lips. He decided what he was going to do, it was risky, but then again, this whole mission was. Hopefully it would attract Simion as well, which would help greatly. The first thing he did was study the assassins and picked out what he could only guess was the possible leader. He then picked out another assassin who looked like a threat. Seizing two throwing knives, and remaining in the darkness outside of the fire, he threw the knives at his intended targets. Both hit true, killing both men instantly and immediately the assassins rose to their feet, cursing loudly. Lavos quickly threw two more knives, but just to injure rather than kill. He then spoke loudly.

“Give up, Dark Brotherhood! The Morag Tong has you surrounded and outnumbered! Drop your arms and surrender peacefully, else enact Mephala’s wrath!”

The assassins looked amongst themselves, hesitation and fear evident across most eyes. Some even bent down to set down their weapons. Suddenly, two assassins cried out and fell to the floor. Simion appeared behind the group and slashed out viciously with his shortsword, cleaving down two more assassins. The remaining assassins instantly set their attack on Simion. Lavos, shocked by Simion’s attack, quickly entered the melee, drawing his steel daggers. The fighting area was suddenly condensed into a frightening mob. Both Lavos and Simion had the near advantage of striking at any body within their site while the assassins had to worry about hitting their own brethren. The fighting was frantic and messy, basically hack and slash. Very unlike an assassin, but it was done to survive.

It felt like hours of fighting had taken place in Lavos’ mind, but in actuality, it was only mere minutes. His body ached from exertion of the battle as he stood there with Simion. Simion had his back turned against him and was panting loudly, apparently from exertion as well. The scene before them was a bloody mess of crumpled bodies, none had survived the fight, they had made certain. Lavos turned to Simion.

“Good job, Simion. Let us go back and report that the Guildhall is safe,” he said tiredly, clasping his teacher’s shoulder.

Without warning, Simion swung around, slashing out with his shortsword. The sword grazed across Lavos’ torso, sending him to the floor, hollering in pain. “All enemies must bleed!” Simion hissed at the sprawled body before him.

The last thing Lavos saw before darkness enveloped him was the maddening glint in the eyes of Simion.



The burning sensation across his chest snapped him out of his state of unconsciousness. A Morag Tong member was applying a dressing to a large gash across his chest. He also saw Eno Hlaalu hovering over his bedside as well, looking down warmly. “You did well, both of you.”

Lavos looked over at the bed beside him and saw Simion asleep atop of it. He recoiled instantly, causing everyone to jump. “Keep him away from me!” Lavos silently hissed at the others, “He did this to me!”

A look of concern crossed the Grandmaster’s face. “Are you certain? We found him collapsed atop of the corpses of the Dark Brotherhood members in the Daedric shrine in St.Olms. When did he attack you?”

“When we finished off the members in the Arena under works, I clasped his shoulder and told him that we did a good job and he attacked me with intent to kill me! He said “all enemies must bleed” and stared at me. There was madness in his eyes!” Lavos said, fear ebbing from his voice.

“This sounds grave indeed…” Eno quietly mused, “I’ll have to look into it.”



“Would you like another drink, friend?” the innkeeper asked, snapping Lavos out of his reverie.

“…Oh! Umm, no thanks, I think I’ll just head to my room now,” he said slowly, rising out of his seat. He should really cut down on drinking. Digging up the past like that was painful.