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]

Whew! Well I hope this one furthers the plot, just because this one is probably the largest update I've done yet. Hopefully the work I put into it turns out well. I particulary proud of it Enjoy!


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Lavos descended the stairs of the tavern, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His head was throbbing with a headache due to lack of sleep and drinking. Even under the influence of inebriation he couldn’t rest soundly. His thoughts were plagued with his near death experiences with the Guild, particularly the instance with Simion. Throughout the night all that Lavos could see was the maddening gaze of Simion and hear his haunting words. “All enemies must bleed!”

Shuddering, Lavos quietly ate a small breakfast and mulled over what he should do today. His binge had caused him to forget about checking up on Simion. Lavos didn’t know if Simion had turned himself in for questioning. Given his suspicions, Lavos figured he didn’t. He knew Simion was the stubborn type, but it was more than that this time. It was guilt keeping him from turning himself in.

Lavos looked up from his meal and nearly choked. Standing in front of him was Simion. Lavos broke into a coughing fit to clear the food caught in his windpipe. After recovering he noticed Simion nodding to a chair, asking if he could take a seat. Lavos nodded a confirmation and Simion casually pulled out the chair and sat down, facing him directly.

Lavos cleared his throat. “Did you turn yourself in?” he asked quietly, using his peripherals to see if anyone was paying any specific notice of the two assassins talking.

“No, I decided not to. They can find me if they wish to speak with me,” Simion said, keeping his tone low. Lavos couldn’t read any emotion across his face.

“How did you find me?” Lavos asked. Still in disbelief that he was talking to Simion at the tavern. Where he thought he was safe. He would’ve known if Simion followed him back to the tavern. Lavos was reasonably sure that he wasn’t that good to go unnoticed. Now his base of operations was compromised.

A small smile crept along the edge of Simion’s lips. “I know you Lavos. You’re not the type to stay at a dead end cesspool of an inn. You like things clean, yet fun, since you’re a talker. That tells me you would want to stay at a quality establishment, but not the Ritz. Now there’s a few inns like the one I described, but I knew you were here to see me. Logically that means you’ll pick one close to my home. This happens to be that inn.”

“I see that you’ve kept your mind as sharp as your skills it seems,” Lavos said, while scolding himself mentally for picking a place so obvious. After his first meeting with Simion, he should’ve realized what he was up against and moved to somewhere further away. With Simion now here, Lavos decided he may as well know why.

“Why are you here, Simion?”

“I need to speak with you, but not here. I have some explaining to do. Meet me at my house at midday. Do this for our friendship,” Simion said, a pain expression crossing his face with his last words. He then abruptly rose and exited the inn.

Lavos simply stared at the door for a few moments, the food on his plate no longer held any interest. He slid the plate aside and rose from his chair. He then went up to his room. Silently, he gathered up his belongings, consciously concealing a dagger on his back. Simion may have seem sincere in his words before he left, but there was always a chance that it could be a crafty ruse. Lavos couldn’t risk any possible danger to himself. He wanted to continue his existence and start to enjoy life.

Since arriving in Kvatch, Lavos had begun to sense weariness within himself. The continual test on his nerves since arriving were taking a toll on him. It was very difficult to predict what Simion would do. His sudden appearance this morning proved that. The simple fact that Simion could just be around the corner, ready to sheath a knife into his back, set his nerves on edge. After this issue was settled Lavos figured he would give retirement a serious thought. The stress was finally starting to get to him.

Sighing, Lavos shouldered his pack and left the room. He didn’t know what he was going to do until midday, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stay at the inn.



Lavos stood outside the door of Simion’s home. He looked up to the sky, a hand across his brow to shade his eyes. The sun hovered directly overhead at it’s zenith. Lavos judge it was roughly close to midday. It was time to see Simion.

During his wait, Lavos had spent most of the time contemplating what exactly Simion was going to tell him. He surmised it wasn’t going to be good. No one says “I have some explaining to do” and tells you something nice. It’s always something that is either going to shock you, repulse you, scare you, or sadden you. In most cases it was a bitter mixture of some of those elements.

It definitely told Lavos that Simion was involved with the murders in some way or another. The best case scenario that Lavos could come up with was that Simion was a scout for the murderer, and was merely assisting him that way and not killing. That look in Simion’s eyes told of a different story unfortunately. They told Lavos that indeed it was Simion committing these acts of murder.

Worse, they told Lavos he enjoyed it.

Lavos made up his mind that he was not going to wait any longer. He stepped up to the door and knocked softly on it. After a few moments the door creaked open and the steel blue eyes of Simion peered at him. Simion stepped back from the door and opened it wide to allow Lavos in.

“Greetings, friend. Come right in and take a seat,” Simion said cordially, gesturing towards a pair of chairs around a small table.

“Greetings,” Lavos returned the greeting and stepped over a lantern on the floor, blackened with overuse that it would take a solid cleaning for any light to pierce through. Lavos thought it was a peculiar place to leave a lantern, but then again, Simion wasn’t a normal person. Not anymore.

Lavos took a seat on the closest chair while Simion walked around the table to take the chair on the opposite side. Simion rested his hands on the table, fingers folded together, and looked across at Lavos. Lavos suddenly began to feel uncomfortable and shifted in his chair in an attempt to find comfort. It almost seemed as if Simion was interrogating him with just a look. Perhaps he was. Reactions from Simion’s stare could give him the answers that Simion wanted.

The silence was starting to grate on Lavos. “Well, what do you have to explain?” he nearly blurted out.

Simion took a deep, heaving sigh and sat back in his chair, breaking the eye contact. He stared up at the ceiling, as if asking the Divines for the proper words to use, and slowly began to explain.

“You should know better than anyone that I wasn’t one to talk about my past before the Guild, right? I figure you probably assumed that it was a bad past. Well you’re right. Just before I discovered the Guild, I was wandering the cantons of Vivec begging for food. I would sleep in the under works because I knew that the Ordinators didn’t patrol those areas…” Simion stared off once more, a distant look in his eyes.

“Do you know what raw sewer rat tastes like? I’ll tell you right now, it’s not pleasant. But a starving youngster has to do what he must to survive, correct? In fact, it was the hunt for food that brought me to the Arena Storage Room. I had hit the jackpot I thought; actual food! There was even a discarded sleeping pallet in one of the side rooms. It was as if I had finally found a home. That’s when I heard a noise.”

“I thought it must’ve been a bandit of some sort, coming to drop off some loot. The place was filled with an array of weapons and currency, common to a bandit hideout now that it dawned on me. I hid behind a crate, and found out something surprising. I thought the person approaching would be entering through the entrance that I came in. Instead, they appeared coming out one of the side doors in the storage room. Once I spared a glance at this person I realized it couldn’t be a bandit. He was dressed to formally in a very expensive looking robe. I was obviously intrigued by this stranger so I decided to follow him as he exited the storage. After a few minutes of tailing him, I just couldn’t take the urge anymore and decided to tug on his robe to get his attention. Boy did he jump at that! I did regret it immediately when I found a dagger suddenly pressed tightly against my neck. Turns out I had been tailing Eno Hlaalu himself! He was stunned by my account of following him, and actually sneaking up on him. He didn’t believe me until I described the room he appeared from. From that moment, I officially became a member of the Morag Tong.” A wry smile had begun to form across his face at his relation of his past. It quickly vanished. “But I digress, that’s not what I really wanted to explain.”

Lavos simply sat there, transfixed by Simion’s reminisce of his past. He had always wanted to hear about Simion’s path. To know if his assumptions were right. To know that he had such natural talent left him dumbfounded. At any given moment, Simon could’ve ended his life with ease. Lavos wouldn’t have known what hit him.

With the opportunity to find out more, Lavos pressed him on. “Then continue, friend. Tell me everything.”

Simion took a moment to recollect his thoughts and continued. “You know that Kvatch was the town I was raised in. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I had to leave to escape the pain and memories that lingered in my home. This home. For this home has been stained with far too much blood… most of which is my father’s…” Simion trailed off, his words coming out slightly louder than a whisper.

“My family was murdered right before my eyes, for reasons unknown to me at the time. It took me a long time to figure out why. When I did, it was still unjust. The one responsible left this scar above my eye. Almost every time I see it, or brush my hand against it, brings back that horrifying night. How I stood mute, clutching my bleeding head, as I witnessed the terrible things they did to my father before they granted him his pleas of death. The fact I could do nothing has constantly bothered me. My time with the Guild was beneficial; it distracted my mind from my past. I could completely forget about it and start anew. Since retirement though, I felt a calling. It called me back here. Once I came back I realized why.”

“My parents’ killer still lives. I’ve seen him. The calling was for vengeance. My skills with the Guild has given me the tools that I need to achieve it. I have yet to do it though. I needed to make sure that I was still able to do what I must…” Simion trailed off once most, and looked intently at Lavos, attempting to read his reaction.

Lavos felt cold all over. He caught the meaning behind Simion’s last words. He couldn’t avoid asking the obvious question. “So you’ve been killing Town Guards to make sure you are prepared to murder your parents’ killer?”

A solemn look took over Simion’s face. “Yes. The murders done have been by my hand.”

Lavos couldn’t believe the absurdity of what Simion was doing. “Simion, you’re an assassin! If you sought vengeance with one man, why must innocents suffer? The one you’re after sounds like some street thug, it would’ve been simple to sneak into his home and cut his throat. One murder wouldn’t have caught our attention.”

Simion’s eyes darkened. “Lavos, you should know fully well that in some missions innocent lives are taken. They get in the way, and the only way to get them out of it is by the edge of a knife. In this case, the guards are the innocents,” Simion quietly explained, restraining his obvious anger at Lavos’ remarks.

Lavos wasn’t convinced and pressed on his attack. “The guards weren’t in the way. You’re playing some sort of sick game with this person. You’re intending to instil fear into him by showing how hopeless it is to get away from you.”

Simion couldn’t suppress his feelings any longer as he lurched up from his seat. “So what? The honoured user deserves what I’ve been doing! I want him to be looking around every dark corner, fearful that I’ll be lurking there, ready to do him in! It is the least I can do for my family,” Simion barked into Lavos’ face, spittle collecting on his lower lip.

Lavos averted his face, and casually wiped a glove across his face. “Why the Town Guard then? They’re good men, here to protect Kvatch. I would understand you killing street thugs. Killing the guards just doesn’t make sense,” Lavos said calmly, returning his vision on the heavily breathing Simion.

Simion tensed visibly and returned to his seat stiffly. “You have no idea who I’m after that’s why. The Town Guard protects the man I’m after. He’s connected with them. By hurting them, I’m hurting him. I’m not after some street thug. If you want some assurance, I can offer you the promise that I will not be going after the Town Guard anymore. Unless they get in my way. I intend to finally end this. I need you to accept that,” he said, his voice taking on a pleading tone, “As a friend, you would let me do this.”

Lavos studied Simion closely, putting his skills to use. He needed to discern whether Simion was being truthful. He had to put his friendship aside in this matter. Innocent lives had been taken and now it was up to Lavos to decide if more lives were to be taken.

Looking at Simion, Lavos saw his old partner from the Guild, only worn down. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes seemed hollowed under darkness. Yet, he did see his friend there, asking him for forgiveness and approval. That alone made Lavos want to say yes but somehow the word seemed caught in his throat. Something seemed to nag at him for further assessment.

The time it was taking Lavos to deliberate with himself seemed to be taking a toll on Simion, as something flashed across his eyes that made Lavos remember. Simion was mad. Right now, he had control, but that wouldn’t last forever. It was that madness that expressed itself through Simion’s eyes that told him despite what Simion said, he wouldn’t keep his word. The madness wouldn’t allow it. It wanted mayhem, relished in it. Lavos’ mind was made up. Simion had to die.

Lavos cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Simion. The answer is no. There’s something wrong with you, and as a friend, I have to help you the only way I know I can,” Lavos said sadly, cautiously edging his hand to his concealed dagger.

A look of outright pain etched itself onto Simion. “No? How can you say no? You’re my friend… You’re supposed to understand…” Anger suddenly burst forth from Simion and Lavos knew that look in his eyes. “The Voice was right! You’re not my friend! I should have dealt with you from the moment we met again. Just like the Voice told me to do!” Simion hollered, standing up.

Lavos pushed aside his chair as he rose and drew his dagger. “Calm down, Simion. Just calm down…” Lavos said as gently as possible.

“No! And how DARE you draw a weapon on me!” Simion cried, stomping his foot.

Before Lavos knew what happened. Red hot pain laced across his entire body. It was so excruciating that he couldn’t even admit a cry to emote the pain he felt. He felt cemented to the spot where he stood, eyes spotting a broken lantern, charred black, resting shattered in front of him. He couldn’t comprehend how it had gotten there, or how it had shattered. His eyes found Simion, whose face was red with anger and frustration.

“You should have let me do what I must do, Lavos, like a good friend would’ve. I can’t let the Guild get involved with this. It grieves me that this must happen,” his face then took on a sick expression, “Though I am really enjoying the site of what’s flowing down your back.”

Lavos couldn’t even feel what he was talking about. It was becoming hard to concentrate on anything. At least the pain was going away, but a numbing coldness was taking it’s place. It was hard to keep his eyes open. He wanted to say something, yet the words wouldn’t come forth. He wanted to tell him it was too late. That the Guild was coming after him once they got here. He wanted the last laugh. The only thing he could do was smile at the madness before him as the darkness overtook him.



Simion watched Lavos’ eyes close for the last time. He raised his foot off the loose floorboard and the knife embedded in Lavos’ spine fell out, causing the body to collapse. Simion knew he should’ve felt sad about the death of his friend, yet the blood pooling behind him made him enjoy every moment of it. From the moment the lantern concealing the dagger sticking out of the floor went flying over Lavos’ head and the knife planted itself into Lavos, Simion felt an intoxicating euphoria come over him. Each moment of watching the life drain from Lavos was bliss to Simion.

The only thing that marred the whole experience was the sudden rueful grin that came across Lavos just before he closed his eyes.