Bloodlust - The Continuation, And the likely conclusion as well!!! Options

[The Metal Mallet]

Well, here's the link to the previous thread: Bloodlust - The Beginning

You can continue your praisings of my written words here. Expect an update next Saturday. I don't expect I'll get one out sooner. School starts again

[The Metal Mallet]

My thoughts exactly Jack. And as you'll find out with this update, you see why Simion is dangerous to Sethyas... and pretty much everyone! Enjoy!


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“Look at him…Strutting out of that place as if he owns it!” the Voice spat disdainfully within Simion’s head, “I could crush him like an ant!”

Simion crept behind the chimney of the home he stood upon, his nimble feet cradling the thatch roof with ease. Even though it was not even dark yet, his recent attack of the Tong assassins looking for him had emboldened him, pressuring him into more risky situations. Anything to help sedate the waves of pain the Voice would conjure up, Simion would do. The only thing that seemed to please it unfortunately was blood, battle, or risking his very own life. So even though he was escaping the Voice’s pain, he was only trading it in for a different pain of sorts. It was certainly more bearable, but damaging all the same. Simion absently wondered what kind of wreck his looked like. He hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror for quite some time. He could picture his haggard face in his mind. He could see his cheeks sunken from mal-nourishment, his face deathly pale, and his eyes sporting heavy, dark circles. It was a face of agony, a face of pain. A face of the monster he had become.

The Voice snickered. “Here you go again self deprecating. It would be amusing if I didn’t have to witness it every day. We have a task to do; get to it!”

Simion followed the Voice’s wish, using the rooftops to remain hidden from the red robed Dunmer below. None of his thoughts strayed from the task at hand. This was a crucial moment for him. If he took out Sethyas, he was more than certain that the Tong would likely stop their pursuit. He would then only have to worry about Savlian and the Kvatch guard; a much simpler task Simion thought.

Below, Sethyas turned left into a narrow and unused side street. Now was the time to strike. With a mighty bound, Simion leapt from one rooftop, crossed the road, and landed upon the rooftop on the opposite side. Simion cursed mentally as he realised his jump wasn’t as graceful as he hoped for since he feet clattered against the tiles of the new rooftop. Looking down, Simion noticed the Grand Master pause. Immediately Simion backed away from the ledge, his breath held anxiously as he waited for signs of discovery. Finally, after a few agonising moments, Simion heard footsteps from below. Unsheathing his dagger, a sly smile crept across Simion’s face. It was time.

Leaning over the edge, Simion could see Sethyas slightly ahead of him. Simion snaked down a rain water drain and softly touched feet upon the cobblestones. The Voice urged him on, demanding that blood be spilt. Simion desperately wanted it to. His grip tightened against the blade handle. He was now only feet away from Sethyas’ back. He arched the blade. Simion wrapped an arm around Sethyas, knife poised to slash into the Dunmer’s throat.

Suddenly, Simion found himself on his back, his head sundering in pain. Instincts kicked in as he rolled away from a descending dagger. Simion kicked out as he regained his feet, knocking back his opponent. The Voice screamed in dismay at the lost opportunity.

“You’re going to have to do better than that to catch me unawares, Simion,” Sethyas claimed, his Black Hands Dagger gripped in his hand.

“Do you honestly think I was trying?” Simion shot back, attempting to regain confidence after his embarrassing failure.

Sethyas didn’t answer as he lunged in for an attack, the Black Hands Dagger appearing to be a blur in his hands. Simion intercepted each attack with his own dagger. In a dagger fight, everything was extremely close quartered; someone was bound to get cut sooner or later. The advantage was in Sethyas’ hands though, since Simion knew the enchantment that coated the Black Hands Dagger. The thing can suck the life right out of you with just a scratch.

Simion engaged Sethyas once more, landing an elbow strike right to the jaw of the master assassin. Sethyas staggered back, dazed by the blow. Simion launched a leaping kick that caught Sethyas square in the chest, propelling him straight into the brick wall enclosing the street. Simion thrust his blade into Sethyas, only to feel it glance off the concealed armour Sethyas was wearing. Shocked, Sethyas managed to narrowly cut Simion across the cheek.

Simion fell backwards, gasping as the enchantment of the dagger sapped the health from him. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Sethyas was carefully getting back to his feet. His face was a mask of grim determination. Simion’s eyes gazed upwards where he was a bird drift across the blue clear sky. In his weakened state he knew that he was no match for the virtually uninjured Sethyas. Only the inevitable awaited him.

“I am not going to sit here and watch that happen!”

Simion found himself yet again suspended above himself in the hazy, grey cast world. He could his body surge to his feet just as Sethyas prepared the final stroke to end his life. His body caught the descending arm mid strike, instantly stopping the attack. Shock and confusion registered in Sethyas eyes as he stared into the malevolent grin of the Voice. Almost with ease, Simion body managed to toss aside Sethyas, who instinctively rolled with the fall and regained his feet easily. Simion’s body simply stood there, patiently waiting for Sethyas to make the next move.

Sethyas exchanged his Black Hands Dagger for a mean looking Daedric katana, hoping to use the length of the deadly weapon to his advantage. Sethyas charged in and swiped horizontally. Simion’s body ducked under the attack and shoulder charged right into Sethyas. Air exploded out of Sethyas’ lungs as he was tackled to the floor. Simion’s body stood up and kicked the fallen assassin, buckling him even further.

Simion watched his body brush away the crimson staining his cheek, a wry smirk now crossing his face. “Get up, Sethyas, there’s still plenty of fight left in ya,” the Voice said mockingly.

Sethyas struggled to his feet and forced his sword into a guard position. Simion’s body casually stalked around Sethyas, his eyes full of disdain and contempt. His body feinted and Sethyas flinched, causing the Voice to chuckle. Sethyas tried to lunge in for an attack, his katana was sent whistling towards Simion’s head. Simion calmly ducked under this attack and swiftly punched Sethyas right in the nose, snapping the Dunmer’s head backwards. Crimson now trickled from the nose of Sethyas, who absently brushed it away as he thought of a new approach.

Still, Simion’s body decided to wait for Sethyas to act first. Sethyas answered this by swinging his katana yet again at Simion’s head, only this time he swiftly followed the attack with a kick that caught Simion right in the jaw. Simion’s head snapped back and fell to the floor. Sethyas went for an overhead chop, yet somehow Simion’s body recovered enough that catch the attack in both of his daggers, held in a pincher formation. Simion’s body kicked Sethyas’ feet from under him and he managed to get back to his feet.

Now, Simion’s body decided to press the attack, as he used both his daggers simultaneously. The daggers looked like a whirlwind as swiped at Sethyas. Sethyas was defending the attack well until one of the daggers caught his forearm, causing him to drop his sword. He then resorted to ducking and weaving, which didn’t work at well. Fortunately his armour was providing enough protection against the silver daggers. Sparks flew as each blow struck the armour with such force.

He has him finished. It won’t be long now…

It just so happened that at that instant, a cry rose from down the street. Several Town Guard were heading towards the fight. Simion’s body caught sight of this and frowned sadly. He kicked Sethyas down to floor yet again.

“Consider yourself lucky, Archmaster, next time I’ll make sure you don’t survive,” the Voice said coldly as he withdrew a throwing knife. Once the Guardsmen were within range, Simion’s body threw the knife, which expertly entered into the throat of the closest guard. Flinging himself backwards into the other guards, the dying guard gurgled on his blood in horror. It was at this moment that Simion’s body took the advantage and fled.

As his body was fleeing, Simion managed to look back and see the guards huddling over Sethyas and the dying. The grey world only enhanced their expressions of dismay and horror. Even from this distance, the crimson blood still stood out like a beacon.

And all Simion could think was “Damn, we didn’t get him!”