A New Threat, The sequel to "Bloodlust" Options

[The Metal Mallet]

Oooooo, what could this threat be!? The mystery! Haha, it probably won't be too long for you guys to figure out what the threat is. I'll eventually drop the obvious hint once I reach the correct point. For now, I leave you in suspicion...

Now to start this puppy off with a cliche beginning but I liked what I wrote so I'm keeping it this way!


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I found myself in a dark void; the darkness was heavy and oppressive. Yet, for some odd reason I could plainly see my hand when I brought it to my face. To my sudden shock I saw that my hand was covered in dark, congealing blood. I quickly gazed at my other hand and found the same result; the fluid was actually becoming sticky. My heart felt like it had risen to my throat and I struggled to breathe. There had to be some sort of logical explanation for this!

I felt like running, but the void was so dark I had no idea which way to go. Anxiety crept up my spine and my sticky hands clenched into fists and began to shake. I closed my eyes then and tried to slow down my heavy breathing. I tried to get myself collected and calm. Attempts at trying to discern why I was in this situation were beginning to be futile so instead I decided to focus on calming my nerves. Finally, after nearly tumbling off the summit of my sanity, my chest stopped heaving breaths and slowed to a normal rate. My heartbeat ceased hammering and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then I heard a voice.

My eyes snapped open, only to see the familiar void. I turned about in a circle, looking in all directions for the source of the voice, but to no avail. The panic was slowly returning once again. Had my mind actually snapped? Was the voice a figment of my mind? I looked down and saw my bloodstained hands once again. It was becoming increasingly annoying trying to keep my fingers from sticking together.

The voice sounded again.

I looked up and saw nothing once again. This time I knew the sound came in front of me! The voice was more of a moan than any words, but I knew it was human.

“Who is there?” I called out. Strangely enough my voice echoed along the void.

I stood waiting, my ears straining for a reply. Yet nothing came. I called out once more, my voice cracking with nervousness. Still, no reply.

Absentmindedly, I wiped at the sweat on my brow and instantly groaned in disgust as I felt the substance on my hand smear against my skin. Revolted, I attempted to keep my hands as far away from me as possible. The brownish-red colour was beginning to haunt me. I closed my eyes again, this time to shut out the vision of my hands. I couldn’t stand the sight of them.

After a few moments, when I thought I could deal with situation, I opened my eyes once more. A hooded figure in a brown robe stood before me. Startled by the sudden appearance of the figure, I cried out and jumped back.

“I bet you’re wondering about that blood on your hands aren’t you?” an indiscernible voice said from the recesses of the hooded figure. I couldn’t see a face. Within the robe I could only see darkness as deep as the void that surrounded me.
“Yes,” I replied weakly.

“Well…” the voice began. I could almost feel the smile spreading across its face, “It’s the blood of your victims.”

The moaning noise sounded from behind me and I whirled around and found emptiness. Swallowing hard I turned back around to the stranger.

“My victims?”

The hooded head nodded slightly. “Yes. Let me show you,” it said, gesturing behind me.

Taking a deep breath, I turned around slowly. I expected the worse but I only found myself staring at the void once again.

“I don’t see anything,” I said dumbly.

An odd sensation swept past my ear following my words. It was as if a slight breeze had blown past me.

“Just wait,” the voice hissed into my ear.

Annoyed, I turned to face the figure to tell it to get away from me but the hooded figure was no where to be seen. Sweat was running freely down my back now. Just what the hell was I getting into?

Just then the moaning voice returned and I whirled back to the direction the figure had pointed out to me. I stared in horror as a familiar person lurched towards me. She was a middle-aged Imperial with brown hair. She was hobbling towards me and it appeared as if each step caused her harm. Her hand clutched at her body as she was covered in bloody stab wounds. Her normally smiling face was contorted in pain.

“Bernise!?” I called out incredulously.

The low moan that I had heard previously escaped her lips. She was in such agony!

“Why couldn’t you help me?” she gasped, “Why did you let me die?”

Tears sprung from my eyes. “I tried! I was too slow. It hadn’t dawned on me until it was too late!’

A gurgling noise sounded to my left and faced another familiar face. Blood poured down the chin of Madsen, the homeless man. He could not speak since his murderer removed his tongue but his accusatory eyes told me enough.

“Whhhhhyyyyyy…”

All around me those who had passed on in a horrible fashion appeared, most of which were assassinated Town Guardsmen. All of them accused me on why I couldn’t save and why I failed them. The torrent of voices were crashing upon me, overwhelming me. I couldn’t take it, yet I was surrounded. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t flee. All I could do was fall to my knee, close my eyes, and clamp my hands to my ears screaming “Stop it!” over and over.

Almost on command the voices did stop. I opened my eyes in amazement but then I realized why they stopped. The hooded figure had returned. It stood before me within the circle of long dead comrades. It gestured in an all encompassing manner.

“This is but of sample of all those you’ve damned,” the figure stated.

Slowly, I regained my feet. “No… Someone else killed them. I am no murderer!”

I felt the smile emanating from the stranger once again. “Though you may not have driven in the blade, you could’ve prevented all these deaths…” the figure paused and reached for his hood, “Besides I should know, I was the one who killed them.”

My eyes widened as the figure revealed himself as Simion, the Breton assassin that had plagued my town 3 years ago. The crazed look was still in his eyes and that recognizable smirk was still etched to his face.

I stood frozen in place, uncertain in what I could do. I was trapped with the most dangerous man I had ever faced on the job.

“What do you want?” I managed to choke out.

Simion stepped closer, yet I remained rooted in my place. For some reason my feet did not seem to want to respond to what my brained wanted them to do.

“I’m simply performing a job. You see, everyone here has hired me to show you the pain they went through. What better assassin to hire than the one that killed them, right?” Simion replied joyously.

Rather nonchalantly, Simion removed a silver dagger from within his robes. Another smirk returned to his face as he stopped inches away from my quivering body.

“I’m going to take my time with this.”

I could only stare at the dagger as it plunged into me.




I awoke with a start. My bed sheets were damp with cold sweat. Almost without thought I looked down at my hands. Relief flooded me as I found them cleaned and unstained. It was just a dream. Just like the other ones had been.

“Damn, Savlian, it’s been a wile since you had one of those,” I quietly said aloud. I pushed back the hair that was matted to my forehead and followed that by rubbing my arms in an attempt to warm myself up.

Looking out of the window to my room I noticed that it was still dark. The stars were dim though and judging by the purple haze to the east, dawn was not far off. I gazed back at my bed thoughtfully. A little more sleep was an option but my dream put a quell to that notion. Instead, I decided I was going to go to work early.


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Now, though it may appear that there's going to be a lot of reoccurring characters in this story, I'll tell you now, that is most likely not going to be the case. Who knows though, based on how this story develops I just might toss in someone familiar. I doubt it, but I truly can't say what'll happen.

I also hope I don't take a year and a half to finish this story. Based on what I plan to do with this one, I expect it to be much shorter than "Bloodlust" but then again, I never thought "Bloodlust" would ever be as long as it turned out to be...

[jack cloudy]

Hmm, kidnapping. Well, it doesn't look as if Simion popped out of his grave, so no worries.

Or maybe there are worries. Hmm, I smell a complot.