Bloodlust, Written by a Fan Fiction Newbie Options

[Soulseeker3.0]

Well, you desided to waste your time on my fan fic so i desided i could spend some time reading yours.

And i can say this... you story is excelent, please keep up the good work. and yes, Vengeance is a good topic i'm just happy i took it before you did

ps... i got first page 6 post

This post has been edited by Soulseeker3.0: Sep 10 2006, 01:01 AM

[The Metal Mallet]

I've always planned to call this Bloodlust anyways The reason is fairly evident I hope... But thanks for joining the Metal Mallet Train, Soulseeker! All aboard! So I think I'll continue with a partial post, I wanted to get down this whole part but I should really start some of my chemistry work. If I don't get lazy I'll finish this update within the next couple of days. Here it is!


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After a few hours rest, Savlian headed for the Mandrake residence. He brought along two other guards to provide a proper escort for Simion, and to deter any violence that could possibly happen. Guilty men generally didn’t feel like going down to the barracks for questioning.

Despite the rest, Savlian still felt uneasy about the matter. It was as if something felt misplaced. Maybe it was because he feared that he was going to have to trade blades with someone who could kill a magnificent swordsman like Henrik. Savlian hoped that was the case, but realising it didn’t seem to push the uneasiness away.

Before he knew it, Savlian and the guards stood outside Simion Mandrake’s home. The late afternoon sun warmed Savlian’s back, but he still shivered. The placed simply looked uninviting. No windows were open, all with dark drapes covering anything that could be seen from the inside. Even the solid wood door looked ominous. Invited or not, Savlian still planned to see whomever was inside.

Savlian strode up to the door and knocked on it solidly, a hallow thud accenting each knock. Moments later, the sound of a latch being removed reached Savlian’s ears and slowly the heavy door creaked open and the face of a Breton peered out at him. A calculating look crossed across his steel blue eyes before he began to speak.

“What can I do for you officers?” he asked quietly.

“That’s Captain for me,” Savlian said sternly, “Are you Simion Mandrake?”

“Yes, I certainly am,” he said non-hesitantly.

“We need you to come with us to the barracks. We need to have a talk,” Savlian said, motioning for Simion to come outside.

Simion hesitated for a moment before saying, “All right, but why do you need to talk with me?”

Savlian sensed that Simion might be playing the stupid card, but he couldn’t tell. The Breton did sound genuine in his question. He pulled out the wanted poster and showed it to Simion.

“We want to talk with you because you match this description.”

Simion visibly paled at the sight of the poster. “I see…” he managed to force out and stepped out of the doorway.

Savlian began to walk away with Simion following behind him. The two guards brought up the rear placed left and right to Simion. He wouldn’t be able to flee if he tried. At least Savlian felt that way.

Savlian’s first impressions of Simion were mixed. Simion possessed the leanness of an assassin, yet he look almost scrawny as there was no visible muscle on him. What did offset that particular discrepancy were Simion’s eyes. Whenever Savlian glanced back and met Simion’s eyes, he noticed the vast amount of intelligence within them. There was always that calculating look to them. It was this intelligence that made Savlian wary for the entire walk back to the barracks.

Upon arriving at the barracks, Savlian immediately led Simion into a more modest interrogation room than the one he used for Barlok. Since Savlian couldn’t just assume Simion was behind this, he had to place him in a common room. If the room was anything worse than this, Simion could complain about being wrongfully mistreated and anything he said would be void. Savlian desperately needed this to lead him somewhere; he couldn’t afford a void interrogation.

Savlian sat down on the chair on the opposite side of the table from Simion, who was sitting comfortable in his chair. Savlian clasped his hand together and rested them on the table, fixing Simion with a gaze.

“Have you seen these posters around town?” Savlian asked his first question.

“No, sorry I haven’t. I don’t leave my home very often,” Simion replied calmly.

Savlian picked up the poster and examined it closely. “Well for not leaving your home very often it seems that someone was able to describe you quite well. They described your scar perfectly and the shape of the face is nearly spot-on,” he pointed out.

“Just because I said I don’t leave often doesn’t mean that people don’t see me. This scar does draw attention…” Simion trailed off.

[Black Hand]

First Reply! Excellent Alternate viewpoints going on here MM. I wonder what Simion is thinking, probably how he's going to hack Savlian into a million little pieces.

[jack cloudy]

Ah, a battle of wits and the tongue. Not as sharp as a good sword but just as deadly. Continue, please.

[Soulseeker3.0]

very nice MM, i can't wait for more of the interigation... I should get back to mine....

[The Metal Mallet]

“Well it certainly seems that it draws unwanted attention if you’re being fingered for something as serious as this,” Savlian continued.

“That seems to be the case,” Simion agreed, maintaining eye contact with the Captain.

Savlian paused momentarily, reclining back into his chair and returning forward again before continuing. “You’re known to be a recluse. Care to tell us why?”

“I’m still trying to get used to being back in Kvatch. You probably know that I left town for a long time,” Simion answered, looking for confirmation. Savlian nodded so Simion continued. “I had a lot of feelings to sort out and I decided I didn’t want to be bothered by anyone while I did that. It’s been taking longer than I expected,” he said sadly.

“Why would you even come back here?” Savlian asked incredulously, “I’ve heard the rumours and you being back here just doesn’t make sense.”

Simion turned his face away from Savlian, a distant look to his eyes. “It is true that I was basically abandoned by my folks. They just simply disappeared,” Simion said, a look of pain and anger melding on his face. “I came back because it is my home, not theirs. It’s just that coming back has brought back the feelings of that day that I found myself abandoned. I am simply trying to overcome that feeling through perseverance. In time, I’ll open up to those surrounding me.”

“Can you think of any reason why your parents abandoned you?” Savlian asked, aware of the feeling within himself that told him something wasn’t registering right.

Simion faced Savlian once more, his visage red from wearing his emotions on his sleeve. “No. I have yet to figure out a reason. All my time spent with them I thought I was feeling their love. It must’ve been a charade, since they decided to leave me,” Simion said, his voice cracking with emotion.

Savlian dismissed the subject and continued on. “Around what time are you usually outside?”

“If I do go outside it’s generally after the sun goes down,” Simion replied, still trying to pull himself back together.

“That’s an odd time to go out,” Savlian commented.

“It’s so I don’t have to talk to people. I need those walks just so I can get out of that house and some air,” came Simion’s reply.

“Well I just happened to receive a report that you were spotted removing a body out of your home in the middle of the night. What have you to say about that?” Savlian asked, emphasising the challenge.

“Whoever reported that to you must’ve been mistaken. It’s understandable when it’s late at night to see things that aren’t really there. I was probably taking my laundry to the creek to clean them,” Simion replied, remaining composed.

Savlian felt sceptical about that defence, yet all he had was the word of one person and no hard evidence. It almost seemed a fluke that the creek was in the direction of the downtown area where the body of the Dunmer was found. Unfortunately, the argument about the darkness distorting Bernise’s vision would work quite well.

It also bothered him that Simion was unresponsive to his questions. Other than the obvious reaction to his parents’ abandonment of him, Simion had answered all his questions calmly, never once expressing outrage or guilt. It was like reading a completely empty book, and it frustrated him like nothing had ever before.

Only one more question came to Savlian’s mind. “How do you feel about the homeless?”

Simion did a double take before answering. “Well, I feel sorry about them. I know what they go through. When I left here… I didn’t have the appropriate funds to sustain a permanent or even daily lodging. Fortunately, an understanding group were able to take me in and I was able to get back onto my feet.”

The answer to his question brought to mind another important question to Savlian. He nearly expressed his embarrassment openly but maintained composure. “This “understanding group” you’re talking about, it wouldn’t happen to be the Morag Tong would it?”

“No, of course not. It was a sect of the Imperial Cult actually,” Simion said resolutely.

“Oh sorry. It’s just that I’m thinking off the top of my head you see. Thing is, we just recently found the body of a Dunmer bearing a Black Hand tattoo. The logical conclusion we came up with is that the Dunmer is an assassin of the Morag Tong,” Savlian said dryly.

“Well if you found a dead assassin it seems that your problem is solved. Somebody has done you a favour. About time. How many of your men have died? Three? Or was it five?” Simion asked mockingly.

Savlian seethed within himself. How DARE he question my credibility! That scrawny piece of guar dung! If only I could…He didn’t finish his thought since he knew the consequences on acting on such a thought. It was then that he realised he was up against a formidable opponent. Savlian had dealt with such comments before by others with ease, yet with one comment by Simion and he was ready to kill the man on the spot! Simion was toying with him.

Well two can play at that game…

“Humph. I think not. You see, from what I got out of the crime scene was this- This Dunmer knew the person behind this. They ran into a disagreement of some sorts and like the coward this freak is, stabbed his own buddy in the back, relishing in the suffering he induced. This time he wasn’t knifing a complete stranger, but someone he knew like a friend. I got that just from seeing that this likely skilled assassin didn’t even put up a fight. Whoever it is, has been leaving cracks in their method, and soon enough I’m going to break those cracks wide open and have this monster hanging from the end of a rope,” Savlian said, laying the words heavily on the person sitting in the other chair.

Simion calmly cleared his throat and said, “A very interesting theory, Captain. I do hope that it’s my idea though. That way, this situation would be over now.”

Nothing! He didn’t even blink furiously! Savlian thought desperately. Simion wasn’t cracking on his best methods. Not even a drop of sweat had oozed out of him.

Hiding his dejection, Savlian said, “Well that’s all I have to say to you, Mr Mandrake. I do suggest you desist on the sketchy behaviour though. It will help in avoiding things like this.”

Simion shrugged out of his chair and walked towards the door. He turned around and faced Savlian. “I’ll keep that in mind, Captain. Good day.”

And Savlian simply watched the threat of Kvatch walk out of his barracks.

---------------------------------------------

All right, there's the conclusion of the interrogation, hoped that turned out well. Expect an update Saturday (my time at least, I don't know what'll be elsewhere). Hopefully I won't be bogged down with chemistry this time

[Soulseeker3.0]

Very nice. I love it when stuff like this happens, even if it is for the worse. I love it when the people keep a cool head and are multiple steps ahead of the interigator. Now lets see how long Mr. Mandrake can keep it befoer eit all goes to his head.... (which i doubt will happen but still)

[Black Hand]

sweeeeeet....I'm liking Mandrake more and more.....

I almost hope he gets away with it. But you would have to be brilliant, and always five steps ahead. Possibly, just possibly, Simion is....

This post has been edited by Black Hand: Sep 20 2006, 01:06 AM

[jack cloudy]

Darn, slippery as an eel, isn't he? Oh yeah, time for the slaughter, part 2!

[The Metal Mallet]

Everyone's comments are always so interesting, and enjoyable to read. Glad to see that you find Simion a interesting character, he's always fun to write. Savlian and The Count are a close second though. So you get a double dose with this one: A little Simion and a little Savlian. Enjoy!


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Simion slammed the door loudly upon entering his home, releasing his pent-up feelings over the events of the afternoon. He slid his fingers between his hair anxiously and gracelessly slumped onto a chair.

They were catching onto him. Or Captain Savlian was at the least. Just from that small meeting he had with Savlian, Simion knew he was a dangerous opponent. The Imperial showed intelligence and a sharp mind. Just as quickly as Simion rattled Savlian, though Simion gave him credit in hiding it well, Savlian came back and rattled him. Fortunately Simion could conceal his reaction slightly better and Savlian didn’t pick up that he hit a nerve. Simion could almost say he was impressed with Savlian deduction so far. With the few mistakes Simion had made, Savlian had set sights on him as the culprit and had almost perfectly deducted what happened to Lavos.

Even though his mistakes had been few, they had been costly. Simion also knew the fault behind them as well. It was that infernal voice in his head. It plagued his mind, his actions, causing slip-ups that would’ve otherwise been avoided. At least, that’s what Simion believed. Though, Savlian avoided names, from the question about the homeless Simion figured that one particular bum had grown suspicious of him, likely on the night he was injured. He also had a good idea on who saw him leave his home with Lavos’ body. Simion had picked up Bernise’s sudden wariness during the day. She had been too curious the day before and now she was avoiding him; it spoke volumes to him. A sensation began to come over him and he knew what was coming.

“You must make them pay for what they’ve done. Death is the only suitable punishment!” the voice howled inside Simion’s head, sounding as if there was a thunderstorm storming within.

Simion winced and visibly shook at the sound of the voice inside his skull. “They are not involved with my mission. They are not Town Guards, they’re innocents,” Simion objected aloud.

“Don’t be foolish! It is because of them that you are under suspicion. They are threats to the mission and therefore must be eliminated!” the voice threatened.

“No! You are the reason I’m under suspicion. All you’ve been is a nuisance!”

“If it weren’t for me, you would be dead. That Redguard… even those Brotherhood assassins back in Vivec, it was me who defeated them, not you. Everything I’ve said has been true so far. Didn’t I tell you that the woman would suspect you?” the voice said.

“I can’t. If I do, Captain Savlian would instantly turn his attention back onto me. Right now, it is best to leave him questioning my guilt. Besides, we should focus on our main goal. I am tired of waiting. I’m going to finish this tonight and finally be done with you. So let us put everything else aside and get this mission done,” Simion said authoritatively.

A dry chuckle echoed in Simion’s head. “You’re right, that’s the best thing to do. This hunger might finally be satisfied.”

So Simion and his inner turmoil began their formulating for the finale of their mission. Simion vowed that the display would be a spectacle for Kvatch to remember decades from now.




On the other side of town, Savlian was reading over the scribe’s account of the interrogation between him and Simion. He hoped to find something there, something subtle that would reveal something crucial. He just couldn’t let the feeling go that he just let a serial killer walk away. There was an aura about the Breton that radiated violence. Yet nothing he read incriminated Simion at all.

Frustrated, Savlian threw the paper aside, growling in anger. “He seemed too slick! Even if he was innocent, he should’ve shown some anxiety,” Savlian shouted at the air.

A slick interrogation wasn’t evidence that he was behind this though. While it may grow suspicion, he needed something certain, something that couldn’t be argued over. At that moment though, he had to check up on a few things. He left the interrogation room and headed towards the private cells.


When he arrived, something felt out of place. These cells were normally quiet, but not this quiet. It was when he turned the corner that his blood turned cold.

Collapsed on the floor was the on duty guard and Barlok’s cell door was swaying ajar.

[Black Hand]

I sense we are starting to reach a finale with this, almost makes wonder if your going to take some liberties......damn that Goldwine!

[Abu the Cat]

Note: Unfortunately, our Tamrielan weather sattelite was knocked out of orbit by a stray fireball. Curse those bloody mages.

Whatever you do Mallet, just keep writing.

Wooo-ooops! Should be more careful with those! God, I've read up to the one before that post, and this is one good Fan Fic!

[minque]

this is one good Fan Fic!

It surely is! Easy to read and follow, you´re doing a great job you know!

[The Metal Mallet]

It could be drawing to a close, but I'll leave that up to speculation for now

As for today's post, it'll be interesting to see the comments for this one. We'll see if anyone has been paying attention to their reading

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Savlian only absorbed the situation briefly before hurrying to the fallen guard’s side. He rolled the guard onto his back and examined him quickly. Realising that he was only unconscious, Savlian shook him lightly to wake him up.

“Gracius! Wake up!” Savlian urged his fallen comrade.

A low groan escaped Gracius’ lips and his eyes fluttered open, a lost look to them. Once they focused on Savlian he nearly jumped.

“Sir!” was all that Gracius got out before Savlian interrupted him.

“What happened here, Gracius? Why is Barlok gone?” Savlian demanded.

Still recovering from being knocked out, Gracius spend a few moments rubbing the back of his head and thinking before answering. “At first I was bothered by some Imperials in the Count’s colours. They demanded that Barlok was to be turned over to them by orders of the Count. I related your message to them and they left in a huff. About an hour later, they come back only this time a big Nord was with them. I go to repeat myself and that’s the last thing I remember.”

It didn’t take an Arch-Mage to figure out who the Nord was. Savlian knew it was Hlodir. Obviously he was sent on behalf of the Count. Now his only viable witness was likely dead at the hands of the Count’s “inquisitor”.

Whether it was because of the interrogation beforehand or just a culmination of everything that had been happening, Savlian couldn’t deal with it level-headedly anymore. Balling his fists, he kicked and pounded at the concrete walls of the prison until both his hands were too sore to continue. Tears of anger and frustration ran down his cheeks while Gracius sat in mute silence, questioning whether or not he should say anything.

Savlian sighed heavily and slid down the wall into a slumped sitting position, a defeated look across his face. It was then that Gracius decided to speak to his Captain.

“Captain, if you don’t mind me saying, but shouldn’t you be mad as hell? I know I would be if the Count was beating up my men. I would go there and give him what ho! Get what I’m saying?” Gracius said with encouragement.

Savlian looked over at Gracius. “You know what? I am mad!” he said, his voice rising in intensity, “Just because he’s the Count of Kvatch doesn’t mean he’s above the law. I am the law! I’ve let this go on for too long. I’m going to show him who does the ordering around here!”

Savlian then rose to his feet and marched out of prison, a determined look on his face. Gracius smiled. His Captain was back.


Count Goldwine was content for now. Only a few hours ago he had received word that Barlok was in their custody and had all ready begun his “interrogation”. He had gone down to make sure everything was being done properly and he was happy to find out that it was. By the time he was there, Barlok was a sobbing wretch, begging for his life to be spared. It took nearly all his willpower to not end the pitiful Orc’s life then and there. Fortunately he kept it, and received an extra half-hour to do some personal interrogation himself before he grew bored and finished.

Goldwine was more than a little annoyed with the order Savlian had made to keep Barlok in his custody. The Town Guard worked for him! They should do what he told them to. They were to be meek and unquestionably loyal to him. Savlian seemed to think otherwise and that could be dangerous for one of them.

He was going to have to tell Hlodir to smarten up his men, or else another one might be caught. Eventually, one of these captives will be unattainable and then the whole operation would come crumbling down. That had to be avoided at all costs. Goldwine knew that he could never survive prison, and he certainly didn’t wish to be executed. He loved his life even more than his love for money and profit. No, prevention was the best cause of action for now. Even if he had to send Hlodir to finish off the Captain he would do it.

But for now, he was going to enjoy his small victory.




It was during his elaborate evening-time dinner when a commotion erupted from down the hall. All Goldwine could hear was some heated exchanges and then rapid footsteps echoing off the marble floor. Suddenly the dinning room doors burst open and Captain Savlian Matius headed straight for the Count.

Seeing the expression on Savlian’s face sent ripples of fear down the Count’s spine and he began trying to get out of his seat. His panic was causing him difficulty though.

“No you don’t, Vernon,” Savlian said and toppled the chair holding the Count over. The chair crashed loudly against the floor and before the Count knew what was happening, Savlian had him pinned down from above.

“Help! Guards!” the Count hollered in fear. He didn’t want to die now, especially not like this.

Savlian opened his mouth to say something, but before a word came out a mob of arms surrounded him. The Count then found himself being pulled up by Hlodir while Savlian struggled against the Count’s Personal Guard holding him down.

“You damn coward! How dare you go against my orders!” Savlian yelled at the Count, who was trying to straighten out his clothes.

Hlodir walked over to Savlian and delivered a straight fist to Savlian’s stomach, knocking the air out from him. “Shut up!” Hlodir ordered.

Savlian glared at Hlodir and he took racking breaths to regain his air.

It was the Count’s turn to deliver a fist to Savlian’s stomach. “How dare you enter my home and make accusations at me!” Goldwine snarled and then smacked Savlian hard across the face, “You ruined my meal!”

Despite being hit, Savlian said, “You stole a criminal from my prison. I want an explanation.”

“I don’t have to answer your demands. Fortunately I’m a nice person and I’ll answer it though. What I want, I get. That’s the quickest way to explain it. The long way is that being the Count of this town, I need to take interest in those who break my laws. I enforce justice around here,” the Count said with a smirk.

Savlian breathed heavily, trying to maintain his cool. “I, too, enforce the law. If I requested for a criminal to be held in my prison, I expect that request to be accepted,” Savlian said in an even voice.

The Count took on a mocking tone, turning his back to Savlian. “The thing is, Captain. I rule this town, which means I am above you. If I want the criminal, I get them. No objections. It makes me upset that you would make an “order” such as you did. I only did what I did to make you realise that. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. You are not above the law.”

The Count abruptly turned around and clutched Savlian by the chin, bringing himself up to Savlian’s ear. “You’re wrong. I am above the law. I’ve been making people disappear for years, even before you were around to do it for me. It’s how I got this town. I could even make you disappear and get away without a blemish upon me. Don’t think I won’t either; you’ve all ready seen what I can do to you. Now you be a nice, complacent Guard Captain and you won’t have to worry about that,” the Count whispered harshly, throwing his hand off Savlian’s chin and backing away.

The Count then double-checked to see that he looked orderly. “I’m done with my meeting with the Captain. Escort him off the grounds,” he said calmly before exiting the dining room.




As Savlian was being led out of the castle, something about what the Count whispered bothered him. It was as if he heard it before. It obviously wasn’t the threat, for that only further intensified his hatred of the man. It emboldened him to put a stop to him rather than submit. He had only inept men at his command and the next time they try something, he was going to capture the whole lot of them. He would then go to the Imperial Court with his evidence and have Vernon Goldwine hang.

So, if it wasn’t that, what was it? Then it clicked:

“I’ve been making people disappear for years, even before you were around to do it for me.”

[Black Hand]

Yes, I know what that means, 'Ive been making people dissapear for years"....and it relates inimately to the other main character and people that were once near and dear to him.....is an alliance possibly forming here?

[Abu the Cat]

I wonder if Simion and the count are forming an alliance, too. Just, Simion was the actual murderer, and the count wants his Skooma! It looks like he'll go to great lengths to get his drugs!

[jack cloudy]

Tsk, still too tied up with honour. Maybe Savlian should hire some assassins. Yeah, that would work.

[Abu the Cat]

Tsk, still too tied up with honour. Maybe Savlian should hire some assassins. Yeah, that would work.

Hmm... definitly not Simion! Maybe one of... the Dark Elf's friends!

[Soulseeker3.0]

Very nice MM! So.... the count and Simon are the same people? j/k can't wait for the Morag Tong finnaly get there.

[The Metal Mallet]

Hehe, nice spectulations everyone, but I'm not going to say if any of you are thinking in the right direction. Things will begin to fall into place in the not so distant future. Well this is today's update:

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The sun had long since descended beyond the horizon, plunging Kvatch into darkness. While the rain and stormy weather had relented from the previous day, the clouds still hung thickly in the skies, blocking all possible moon and starlight.

For the most part, Kvatch was quiet. The town centre, which was never entirely asleep, still had some occupants roaming the streets to head to the next tavern. Outside of that though, the town was in nearly mute silence, only the odd cough sounding from the wall sentry gave truth that there was still existence outside of the town centre.

In one spot of the town, the silence was broken as a back door carefully creaked open. A figure, cloaked in black emerged from the opening and carefully closed the door once more. This time, no nosy neighbours were going to see him sneaking out of him home. This time, things were going to go flawlessly.

The figure decided to take the long way to his destination. The quickest way was straight through the heart of the town, but the figure intended to avoid as many people as possible. All distractions had to be avoided. He didn’t know whether his problem could drive him to do something he couldn’t escape from, which would blow his main goal.

He kept to the shadows the entire time, avoiding the odd lamppost that was lit. The environment he was heading to required him to keep his night sight. Plus, sudden light was painful when using a constant night eye enchantment. An added bonus was that he didn’t even stumble across a single person. Not even a patrolling guard. They were likely concentrated in the centre of the town where he had made his previous attacks. The fools didn’t get it at all. They were merely fodder for the main course.

Roughly an hour later, the figure reached his first roadblock, the Town Guard Barracks. In order to get where he was going, he needed to get past that fortress of stone without being seen. Then again, this might prove to not be so difficult. Why would a town guard expect a criminal to walk right past their front door? They wouldn’t, meaning their guard would be down. He just hoped that his thinking was correct, and that no one would be entering or exiting the barracks very soon.

He pressed himself up against the cool granite of the barracks wall and began to slide his way across it, hoping that being so close to the wall would avoid detection from those possibly patrolling above him. Before reaching the large doors, the figure paused. Holding his breath, he listened carefully for sounds of movement. When silence answered his call, he slipped past the door and hurried past the barracks. The first obstacle was passed.

After gaining some distance from the barracks, the figured scaled up a wall with a grappling hook. The feat only took a matter of seconds, exceptional for the size of the wall. Due to the relatively poor design of the building, the figure was able to jump from the top of the wall unto a ledge of the building. His soft shoes cushioned his jump, allowing all noise to be muffled silent. Taking out his knife, the figure was able to unlatch a nearby window and infiltrate the premises.

Scanning the room, the figure found himself in an unused servant’s room. He silently exited out into the hallway, making sure that it was empty. He made his way silently along the halls, heading in a purposeful direction. He knew where he was going; all he needed to do was be silent. Before he got far though, footsteps were heard descending a nearby staircase.

Alerted by the noise, the figure hurried to a position behind a statue. From there he could get a good look at the staircase, and likely avoid detection from the person descending it. The first thing seen was the flickering glow of a candlestick, and then black dress shoes, followed by a Breton in a fine suit of livery. In his one hand was the candlestick, and the other a stack of letters. It didn’t take much to figure out this was a servant of the head of the house.

Perfect, he’ll take me right to his door, the figure thought as he stalked out of his cover once the servant had turned his back to his hiding spot.

After minutes of following the servant carefully through a maze of hallways and rooms, the figure sensed that they were approaching the room that which he desired. It was time to get rid of a possible witness. Unsheathing his knife, the figure crouched down and quickened his pace, drawing ever closer to his victim.

His adrenaline pumped through his body, but he was able to maintain a steady, silent-breathing rate. Once he was within range, he sprang, striking at the servant with the knife. It sunk right into the heart of the man, yet the figure’s hand clamped over the mouth of the man muffled any chance of a cry of pain. He held the servant there, stomping out the fallen candle quietly, until the body went limp. The stacks of letters were spilled across the floor but the figure didn’t care. He had spilt blood, and was hungry for more.

The door stood before him, behind it was the man who had ruined the only real life he had. While this man had flourished in his crimes, the figure had been wallowing in poverty and striving to survive. It took a lot of willpower to not scream out his rage even now, after all these years. All he simply needed to do was open the door and end it. Reap his vengeance.

He all ready pictured the display that he would leave this monster in. He could sense the excruciating pain he would put him in. It would be his greatest masterpiece yet. His blood will be the most pungent, the spray of it will be the most awe-inspiring, the sight of it…

His thoughts ceased suddenly as something cold, hard and sharp rested against his shoulder and began to press against his neck. He was sent into stunned disbelief when a voice quietly rose behind him.

“That is as far as you go, Simion.”

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And I think I'll leave it right there
I'm cruel sometimes I know!