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> Bloodlust, Written by a Fan Fiction Newbie
The Metal Mallet
post Jun 28 2006, 04:43 AM
Post #21


Master
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Joined: 18-June 06
From: Kitchener, ON, Canada



Bah! My daily update schedule ruined! Ohwell, it's not a huge deal. As long as you get material some of the time my readers will be happy right? RIGHT!?!?!?

Well, I'll continue and find out...

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Patience is a necessity if a killer expects to work on their craft for a long time. Any fool could just approach their target and behead them before they realize what’s going on. Unless the victim isn’t a fool, and guards are naturally suspicious, so the direct approach would definitely cause problems. Even if the target was a fool, the direct approach still can lower the lifetime of a killer just because there are the chances for witnesses. Witnesses tend to tell guards what a killer looks like, therefore the length of a killer’s career is substantially lowered.

The killer knew all about this. That was why he took his time to find his target for the night. He needed to be as inconspicuous as possible, and keep his eyes open for the right opportunity to rise. He was constantly peering into the alleyways, his amulet resting underneath his shirt allowed him to see in the darkness. It seemed the guards were smartening up their act; not a single guard was lurking around in the alleys this evening.

Looks like tonight is going to be more of a challenge, he thought as he thumbed at the scar above his right brow, I hoped it was so. Preparation is key for what I need to do…

As the killer progressed down the streets of Kvatch, he quickly noticed that the guards were no longer alone, they always had a partner with them. Some even had parties of three or four. He quickly decided to focus on a party of two. Given the right situation, he could take both out before they realized what was going on. Hopefully the sensation pulsating in his head didn’t drive him into anything too hasty.

“Blood! I demand it! Can’t you feel it? It’s calling…answer it!”

I will, I hear it too. I just have to maintain my control, one mistake and I could ruin everything.

“Yes… his blood calls the loudest. I want to see it sooo much! The sound of it spilling will sound better than any symphony ever created. I can picture it so vividly… the sound of ripping flesh… the geyser of crimson… the fear in his eyes before the life fades away from them… beautiful, picturesque isn’t it?”

It is… I want it now… No! I mustn’t be tempted right now! I have work to do, the blood of two men will satisfy for now. All I need is to figure out which two…

Raucous laughter suddenly erupted from around the corner ahead of the killer. Instantly, the killer made his way in the direction of the laughter, intent on who was behind this boisterous laughter. A rush of excitement began pulsating in union with the odd sensation that had been travelling with him.

Peeking around the corner, the killer witnessed two men stumbling around with their arms over each other, laughing hysterically. They were obviously drunk and it looked like they were moving on to the next pub. The swords strapped around their waists told the killer that indeed, they were Kvatch guards, supposedly off-duty this evening. The killer smirked, a guard was a guard, these two men were going to be his targets this evening. The real hunt had just begun.

Trailing at a safe distance away, the killer observed the two men carefully. The one was a young Redguard, who seemed to be more inebriated than his partner. It was likely that this was his first time hitting the pubs, as the alcohol was making his stumble quite often. The other was a tall Imperial, drunk, but he was able to move straight, despite having to drag his feet along to do so. The killer decided he should still be cautious with this one as with age, a man could still be dangerous while drunk. As they entered the next pub, ‘The Flying Bosmer’, the killer knew exactly what he was going to do. The maddening pulse quickened as he crept into the alley, prepared for what was to come. It would only take patience to get away with his plan. Hopefully the urges wouldn’t ruin his frame of mind…



As expected, it took roughly an hour to hear the slamming washroom door in the upper story of the pub, followed by the young Redguard vomiting into the washbasin. A sudden rush flooded the killer’s mind. “Now! Now! Bleed him now!”

Suppressing the rush took effort and the killer began to perspire. Why was this happening? Never before had this been a problem. He was so close to what he wanted accomplished and yet this madness within his mind could ruin it all. He must suppress it!

Fortunately the Redguard was taking his time emptying his stomach, his loud retching was reaching the killer’s ear from outside on the roof quite easily. It took only a few moments to flood the urges within the calm void that his training had long since created. He then waited patiently for the retching to stop. Once it did, he leaned over the roof’s edge, and tapped on the washroom window. A shift in the light emanating from the window told the killer that the Redguard was investigating.

As quickly as he could, he slammed his fist through the window, causing a loud shattering, then grabbed the body by the shirt, and yanked the body out the window. A cry of shock escaped the drunken Redguard’s lips before plummeting from the heights of the pub. A sharp, wet crack accented the ending of the fall.

The killer then slipped into the pub from the broken window, and placed himself behind the door leading out into the hallway, knife at ready. Stumbling steps approached the door and a slurred voice called out, “Hey rookie! Ya okays in there? I tolds ya, you shouldn’t drink ‘o much!”

A few moments later the door creaked open and the Imperial walked in. Noticing the window, he stumbled closer to investigate.

“Now! Do it now!”

Almost instantly the killer reacted, viciously wrapping his arm around the forehead of the Imperial and slashing his throat open in one deft movement. He held the body up for a moment, the proceeded to toss him out the window as well. This time, a faint, wet splat told the killer the body had reached the end of its fall.

Quickly he exited via the window back onto the roof of the building. There he stood, eyes fixated on the two bodies sprawled on the ground before him. It was visionary, artwork at its finest. The blood spilled across the rivulets of the cobblestone like many small creeks, but were soon flooded into a lake of blood. He finally released the void of his training and let the rapture take over. The smell of the blood became stronger in his nostrils, the crimson more vivid, he could nearly taste it. Satisfaction protruded from ever pore of his soul. It had been too long to do this.

His thumb then brushed the scar above his brow and his feelings of rapture subsided. How could he be satisfied with this? Killing a couple of drunks was no challenge at all. Sure, there was two of them, but there did not seem to be any apparent danger at all. Maybe he was ready… maybe the fear was instilled high enough to act upon his true target. To finally achieve his revenge.

No, my tasks have been too easy so far, I need something more challenging. If I don’t I WILL get caught if I try to get my revenge at the moment. Preparation will have to continue, he thought as he began to head to the drainpipe leading back down to ground level. His moment’s bliss was ruined because of a scar, a scar left by the man he sought revenge for.

It wasn’t the mark above his right brow that drove him. No, the scars ran deeper than that. They went to his very soul, the very essence within him. Those scars had changed him, they drove him away from Kvatch, his home, for a long period of time. Since then, many changes had happened, but one thing didn’t change. The one who had scarred him still lived. He intended to change that. But first, he intended to scare him half to death. Let the paranoia sink in to torment him. The killer almost hoped that he would beg him to kill him once he got his chance, almost. Begging for his life would sound sweeter to his ears as he would ignore them. Then he would reach completion as he would spill the blood of the one who tormented his thoughts for so long…

Yet again, the killer paid homage to the homeless man with the fire barrel by giving away a few coins and relieving himself of his gloves as he engaged in a short conversation with the man. The man didn’t notice the smell of burning leather at all, his own filth would’ve easily overwhelmed most other scents. The killer didn’t mind the man’s stench though, he understood what it was like to down on his luck. He had been forced to live in similar fashion for a time. Before a significant change turned things around for him. He did not want to dwell on that memory though, his past provided the skills he needed for the future. That was all he needed from the past. That, and absolution.

As he continued back to his home, he noticed something. The pulsating sensation was all ready returning. A frown crossed his face. So soon…

Exhausted, he entered his home to formulate his next action.


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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jack cloudy
post Jun 28 2006, 01:56 PM
Post #22


Master
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Joined: 11-February 06
From: In a cold place.



Rule number 1: Never drink on the job.
Rule number 2; never drink after the job.
Rule number 3: Better yet, don't drink at all.

Hmm, the killer is getting impatient. He'll start making mistakes like this. smile.gif


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The Metal Mallet
post Jul 1 2006, 10:05 PM
Post #23


Master
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Joined: 18-June 06
From: Kitchener, ON, Canada



Well I thought my readers, possibly limited as they are, I have no idea, deserve another installment from my fic! I apologize in advance for what lies ahead...... tongue.gif


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The grisliness of the scene displayed before Savlian brought waves of nausea and frustration. The killer had indeed broken the stalemate, in perhaps their most violent offering so far. Two mangled bodies were sprawled across the street in front of ‘The Flying Bosmer’. One was Dalewin, a veteran of the guard, the force will suffer from his death. Tragic as Dalewin’s death was, the second body caused more grief for Savlian. The body of Ferrik laid smashed against the cobblestones of the road. His head was split open, blood and brain matter was pooled around his head. Savlian could barely suppress the bile that was rising up his throat.

Henrik is going to kill me…, Savlian thought, Unless the Count kills me first.

Savlian bit on his lower lip in nervousness as he surveyed the scene. It was still early in the morning, the streets were basically void of life. It was the patrolling guards that had awaken him to bring the news of what they found outside the pub. He had immediately travelled to the crime scene to look for evidence. Yet again, very little physical evidence was found. All that could be deducted was that Ferrik was killed by the fall out the window while Dalewin had his throat slit before being thrown out the window as well.

Hopelessness began to grow within Savlian. He still had no leads, people around him were dying, and the pressure the Count had on him was driving him insane. The stress was keeping him awake at night, and once he fell asleep his dreams were instead plagued by nightmares. It was always the same dream as well. He was always trying to catch an elusive object shrouded in darkness, all the while, a wall of darkness was steadily gaining on him during his chase of the object. The dream always ended with him being consumed by the darkness before catching the elusive object. Savlian could tell his mind was troubled as of late.

With a sigh, Savlian ran his fingers through his dirty brown hair and contemplated the repercussions for the night’s tragic event. Surely, the Count was going to blow his top over this. He could all ready picture the Count’s face, purple in rage because Savlian wasn’t doing his job as effectively as the Count wanted. That one of his “precious” guards was murdered yet again. Savlian knew deep down the Count didn’t care one bit about what happened to the guards. He was more concerned about how the murdered guards reflected his rule of Kvatch. People would want to leave if the situation were to get worse. If people were to leave, fewer taxes would be collected for the Count. Less money for the Count’s own use would make him furious.

While the Count could possibly throw him in jail for negligence, Savlian had a greater concern for how Henrik would react to the death of his brother. The bond between them was strong. Ferrik idolized his older brother from a young age and wanted to emulate everything about him. Henrik encouraged everything Ferrik did. He trained him, and told him about the duty of a guard. He inspired Ferrik to follow his brother’s footsteps and become a guard. That bond worried Savlian though. If Henrik thought that he was to blame for Ferrik’s death, Henrik would likely try to kill him. He still had time to try to break the bad news to him quietly. It was the best he could do.

Savlian finally looked over to the guards who brought him over to the crime scene. “I’ve seen enough, get a mortician and clean this up. Do a good job of it.” He than went off toward where he knew Henrik was staying.


Along the way, another guard stopped him. Horror filled Savlian’s thoughts, No, not another murder! This can’t be happening!

Fortunately, it was better news than that.

“Sir, I believe one of the ex-convicts you have me following is up to something. Do you want to follow me?” asked the guard.

The hopelessness that gripped Savlian only moments ago began to dissipate, and a drive began to grow. A drive that he could catch this monster. “Yes, lead the way.”



The place was a dive. It reeked of rotten food, soiled waste, and decay. The wooden shack was rundown, weather-beaten, and falling apart. The wood was stained with a brown substance that Savlian better thought was left unknown. It seemed as if the convict could leave prison, but the prison didn’t leave the convict. Savlian was glad he didn’t have to visit the cells very often, because the overwhelming stench would drive him insane. This place reminded him too much of that.

It almost seemed stereotypical that this was the place to harbour a homicidal manic. It was the perfect picture of a deranged mind. Savlian’s pulse raced as he hid behind a ruined stone fence, observing the house of Uragh zub-Grech, an Orc who had been charged with assault of the Town Guard. The picture fit well in Savlian’s mind, but there was something there, trying to tug on his thoughts but his anticipation pushed it away.

“So what’s suspicious about Uragh?” queried Savlian.

“She’s been lurking around town, talking with other shady looking people. I think she’s at least connected to what’s been going on. A scout maybe. We’ll find out once we question her I guess.”

Savlian just nodded. A movement caught his eye and he immediately took lower cover behind the fence and motioned the guard to do the same. He held a finger over his mouth to signal for silence. The guard nodded in understanding.

Just over the wall, a faint grumbling was heard by a gruff, feminine voice. Instinctively, Savlian knew that must be Uragh so he slowly peeked over the edge of the fence to observe what she was up to.

Uragh was large for a female Orc. She looked incredibly strong, which left Savlian to wonder just how due to the living conditions she was living in. The apparel did fit the conditions on the other hand. Her farmers shirt, once white, did not recognize its original colour anymore. It was more of an off-yellow with many brown blotches spread throughout the shirt. Her black pants were not in much better shape, they were quite tattered and mud caked.

Her grumbling was over carrying a large crate that she appeared to have difficulty carrying. The crate was closed, so Savlian could not tell what was in it, but the objects were definitely rattling loudly. His curiosity changed as a red-stained knife fell out of Uragh’s belt as she fumbled with trying to open the door to her shack. The red stain screamed murder weapon to Savlian as he sprang over the fence and rushed over to the shack.

“Hold it right there! Put your hands up!” Savlian called, placing his hand over his sword in case things were to get out of hand.

Uragh dropped the crate in shock. With a curse she went to her belt for her knife. Upon realizing it wasn’t there she cursed again and took off towards town.

Savlian gave chase. He heard his partner call out to him but the excitement of the situation caused him to ignore it. I have the killer! She ran, so it MUST be her! He thought as he leaped over the stone fence again during his pursuit.

Uragh’s speed was surprising given her size, she had a sizable lead on Savlian. Savlian was a fit man though, and he was steadily gaining on the Orc. He hoped he didn’t lose her in the crowds of Kvatch. He did not want to lose his chance at ending the madness sooner rather than later. He was not going to let her escape.

Uragh entered a rundown warehouse located on the outskirts of the city. Carelessly, Savlian followed her into the warehouse. Upon entering, he found Uragh standing in the middle of the vacant warehouse. He soon realized that vacant wasn’t the truth of the situation as he heard multiple pairs of footsteps echoing in the vast warehouse. Looking around Savlian discovered 3 other grimy looking people slowly surrounding him. Two of them were Dunmer, while the third was another large Orc male. None of them were happy to see Savlian here. All three of them were armed with knives.

Savlian had ran into a trap and his partner was no where to be seen.


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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minque
post Jul 1 2006, 11:48 PM
Post #24


Wise Woman
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Joined: 11-February 05
From: Where I can watch you!!



Ayyye......many updates I see, getting more and more interesting......keep it up ya hear!



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Chomh fada agus a bhionn daoine ah creiduint in aif�iseach, leanfaidh said na n-aingniomhi a choireamh (Voltaire)

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Black Hand
post Jul 2 2006, 07:41 AM
Post #25


Master
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Joined: 26-December 05
From: Where the sun shines everyday in hell.



Well, since you often drop into my thread and give me praise, figured I'd do the same for you.

Wonderful, Bloody Wonderful! Pardon the pun.

You seriously have a way with words that I wish I had, each sentence flows with a jen ne se quias. Eloquence, yeah thats the word I'm lookin' for.
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jack cloudy
post Jul 2 2006, 09:46 AM
Post #26


Master
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Joined: 11-February 06
From: In a cold place.



No, not the hero! Hmm, daggers against a sword. If he's better than the average guard and actually up to the level of a PC, he might get out alive.


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Fabulous hairneedle attack! I'm gonna be bald before I hit twenty.
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The Metal Mallet
post Jul 2 2006, 11:30 PM
Post #27


Master
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Joined: 18-June 06
From: Kitchener, ON, Canada



Time to see if Savlian survives this... who knows, I might pull a George RR Martin and kill off a main character just for my own amusement. No one is safe! Hahahahaa! Ok, the power is getting to me...


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The eyes of the thugs surrounding Savlian sparkled with malcontent for him. They wanted to hurt him. Badly. A sly grin broke across Uragh’s face. “I think it’s about time the good Captain here met his maker. Kill him.”

As the three goons crept closer Savlian drew out his broadsword. While his attackers may be armed, there only possessed low quality daggers. They needed to get close to use them. Unfortunately for them, his broadsword was long enough that he could possibly keep them from getting close. The nearest Dunmer pounced first, flicking out with his dagger. Savlian easily intercepted the flick with his broadsword and pushed him off, quickly turning to parry the attack on the second Dunmer. He rewarded the Dunmer with a kick to the midsection to ward his off.

The male Orc had yet to act, he was busy talking to Uragh, obviously questioning her for the appearance of Savlian. His angered expression clearly showed that he wasn’t happy with it. Savlian put a mental note on the Orc’s position as he returned his attention to the Dunmer.

Savlian tried to keep both the Dunmer in his sights, but they were trying to keep one of themselves behind him so the effort was proving futile. Savlian opted for an aggressive attack. He made a sudden rush at the Dunmer ahead of him to try to take him off guard but his cross swing was avoided by an agile roll to the side by the Dunmer. Savlian had to quickly regain his footing as the Dunmer behind him went in for the attack. The attempt brought a small slash to the Dunmer’s arm. A quick yelp escaped his lips before he backed away again to reform his stance with the other Dunmer. They were obviously hesitant to break through Savlian’s guard. Personally, Savlian wished he brought his shield. This problem would be fixed by now if he did have it.

It seemed with the yelp of the injured Dunmer, the male Orc decided to join in the fight. This was going to make things more difficult for Savlian. His attackers now formed a rough triangle around him, trying to keep two behind him now. Suddenly, the Orc rushed Savlian, raising the dagger high over his head and roaring. Savlian was able to deflect the dagger with his sword but the force of the attack, as well as the force the Orc colliding with him, knocked him to the floor violently. A flash of light, and a brief moment of blackness enveloped Savlian’s eyes.

Immediately, the two Dunmer sprang onto the downed Captain. Amidst the tangle of bodies, flashes of blade strikes appeared, followed by grunts and groans. A sudden shriek of pain erupted from the struggle and one Dunmer was kicked away. Savlian rose out of the tangle bloodied, but relatively unharmed. His chest heaving under the effort of surviving the twin attacks of the Dunmer. The other Elf was writhing on the ground, clutching at his abdomen, vainly trying to hold in his organs. Savlian decided to spare him the pain with a stab to the heart. The remaining Elf cursed at him, then charged wildly at him. Savlian easily side-stepped the attack and swung his sword at the Elf’s exposed back. A loud thud, brought by the flat of the blade, sent the attack sprawling across the floor. Savlian mentally cursed at himself for making that small mistake.

Now the odds were back to two versus one. Savlian was not relieved though. He had used a lot of energy to avoid being stabbed to death on the ground, and the injuries he did received ached as the sweat mixed with the blood. He needed to finish this quickly or else he would tire out. With a determined set to his eyes, he raised his sword and began to engage the Orc. This one was obviously running the organization, so it was likely that if Savlian disposed of the Orc, the other would give up.

Unlike Uragh, this Orc has much slower footwork so Savlian all ready knew what he was going to do. He charged at the Orc, but before reaching him, he dove down at the Orc’s legs, holding his broadsword out, he slashed his sword and rolled back onto his feet. The attack made a deep laceration on the Orc’s thigh which staggered him to the floor. The Orc roared out in pain as he collapsed to the floor, no longer able to support any weight on it. All the while, the Dunmer stared, dumbfounded that his leader was down. The Orc decided he wanted to go to his death fighting as he lunged at Savlian with his good leg. The attack caught Savlian by surprise, so his reaction to avoid the attack wasn’t fast enough. The Orc’s dagger was planted firmly into Savlian’s calf as he attempted to jump away. Savlian crashed awkwardly in pain, he quickly yanked out the dagger. He bit down on his lip to avoid yelling out in pain. At least the Orc was now unarmed.

Savlian got up, and stumbled over to the Orc, who was now yelling any profanity that came to his mind. A few quick stabs later and the string of profanities ended. The Dunmer suddenly jumped out of his shock and bolted for the door. Savlian couldn’t give chase due to his injury so he picked up the Orc’s dagger, took quick aim, and tossed the dagger. A sound of metal sheathing into flesh echoed across the room as the dagger planted itself in the middle of the Dunmer’s neck. Soundlessly, the Dunmer went rigid before collapsing loudly on the floor. Savlian knew he was either paralyzed or dead, possibly both. What concerned him now was where did Uragh go?

His question was answered quickly as a green blur began to head toward to warehouse exit.

No! Was all Savlian could think as his only lead reached the doorway.

As she did, a fist suddenly appeared from the entrance and clocked Uragh right in the jaw. The bone-jarring blow sent Uragh crashing back into the warehouse. Another Kvatch guard walked in. It was the one he thought had abandoned him.

“Sorry I was late, if I knew this was going to happened I would’ve followed you right away. I wanted to investigate that crate she dropped,” he said as he nodded to the now unconscious Orc, “It was filled with skooma. So I don’t think we’ve got the right suspects here. But I got to say, capturing skooma dealers is a very good thing.”

Savlian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But her knife, it was bloodied I saw it.”

“Sorry sir, it wasn’t blood,” the guard said hesitantly as he pulled out a rusty dagger, “It was only really rusty. This is her dagger.”

Anger surged through Savlian’s thoughts. I can’t believe how foolish I was to think that an Orc could be a sneaky assassin! I was blinded by my own eagerness to end this! Look what it got me! An injured leg, and still no suspects. At least they were skooma dealers…

Savlian wiped the sweat and blood from his face. “Good investigation work then. I’m glad to get skooma off the streets any day. Arrest Uragh on accounts of drug trafficking, resisting arrest, and attempted murder. Get word to healer, I can’t walk on this leg right now.”

The guard nodded as he picked up the large Orc and walked out. Savlian sat down on the cold warehouse floor. Hopelessness began to creep back into his soul.

What am I going to do now?


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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DarkHunter
post Jul 3 2006, 12:17 AM
Post #28


Mouth
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Joined: 10-April 06
From: Balmora, what was the Council Club...



Oohhh.... What can happen? what will happen ... all right no more pointless questions.


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A skull, some blood, and a flying mace. Not much to work with. ~Imperial Legion Captian.
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Toroabok
post Jul 3 2006, 05:41 AM
Post #29


Agent

Joined: 10-November 05
From: B-Town



MAN! this story is getting more compelling each time i read it. truthfully, i dont care if the heroes die. i just want the murderer to survive! biggrin.gif


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jack cloudy
post Jul 3 2006, 10:27 AM
Post #30


Master
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Joined: 11-February 06
From: In a cold place.



Skooma? Oops, wrong suspect. smile.gif I'm glad to see that Savlian survived. He is indeed above your average guard.


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Fabulous hairneedle attack! I'm gonna be bald before I hit twenty.
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Lord Revan
post Jul 6 2006, 02:48 AM
Post #31


Master
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Joined: 6-May 06
From: Texas, USA





Keep up the good, if not sadisticly bloody, laugh.gif work.

Sometimes though the murderer sounds like a vampire, but oh well..... smile.gif
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The Metal Mallet
post Jul 6 2006, 03:01 AM
Post #32


Master
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Joined: 18-June 06
From: Kitchener, ON, Canada



So far, the day for Savlian could be compared to walking in the planes of Oblivion without any clothes. Absolute misery. He had received word shortly after getting mended from his injuries that the Count wanted to speak with him. The little sense of accomplishment of capturing drug dealers were vanquished with that summons. Savlian knew he was going to get a verbal lashing, and it would get worse the longer it took for him to get to the castle. So he had immediately set off in the appropriate direction. Just thinking of the trip caused his hand to instinctively massage his sore jaw. He had ran into Henrik along the way, the result didn’t go too well. Henrik’s words still echoed in Savlian’s head after the punch to the jaw by Henrik.

“You’re failing everyone Cap. I’m going to get things done, my way, and you better stay out of it.”

Failing. That’s all he’s done so far. Fail. Sure he had made attempts to discover who the killer was, but so far all his methods had failed. His failures had cost him 6 lives of men and mer who worked for him, and expected him to succeed. They looked up to him. The best thing he could do for them was let them die it seemed. A successful leader would not have let this happened, he would’ve had this monster behind bars or dead by now. Not Savlian though, he let the killer continue his now more violent rampage. Kvatch was beginning to fear its streets. He was doing an injustice to his fair city. He needed to figure out some way to make up for it. Regretfully, Savlian entered the castle grounds, he figured that the Count would be lounging in the garden at this time of day.

Observing the scenery of the sprawling gardens, Savlian found it ironic how such a beautiful place could contain such a despicable person. The gardens were a lavish, organic, and serene place with colourful flora, towering trees, and trimmed hedges. It was truly a peaceful looking place. It just simply boggled Savlian’s mind that someone with is inconsiderate, egotistical, and brutal would spend time in a place like this.

Indeed, Savlian did find the Count in the gardens. He was lounging in a chair that was looking out over the scenic gardens. His butler, Brixley, was holding a parasol over the Count’s head so he would avoid the possibly chance of being burnt by the sun. The smug expression on the Count’s face told Savlian that he was going to enjoy ragging on him.

“Well it’s about time you arrived, Captain. It has been over an hour since I sent word to speak with you, I wanted you here immediately,” the Count said cynically.

“Sorry, sir, I ran into the older brother of one of my deceased men. It didn’t go well.”

“No less than you deserve I assume… Now has your investigation improved?” asked the Count.

“We have been following the lead that the murderer was someone who was previously in prison. This method has just recently stopped a local skooma dealing operation. I expect this method will discover the identity of the killer soon,” replied Savlian. He knew the last part was a lie. This person definitely was not a former criminal, at least not in Kvatch. He hoped that showing confidence in the investigation would lower the Count’s rebuttal.

The Count’s face contorted in a wicked looking way for a brief moment before answering. “Which is more dangerous, Captain? Skooma dealers or a homicidal maniac? Hmm?”

Savlian stood silently.

“That was not a rhetorical question!”

“The maniac, sir,” Savlian practically sighed.

“Right. The maniac. So I strongly suggest you focus on the maniac instead of the dealers from now on. I’m beginning to question my decision in making you the Captain of the Guard if you can’t keep my town safe. That is the duty of the Captain is it not?”

“Yes it is, sir,” Savlian answered through gritted teeth.

A cold expression crossed the face of the Count. “Well then, do your job. Make sure it is done soon, or else I will need to replace you. I personally think Hlodir would make a good replacement. He is exceeding beyond your capacity in the job he replaced you for previously. I’m sure he would be able to do both jobs even, if need be.”

Savlian simply nodded, snapped a salute, and vacated the gardens. He had work to do. It was upsetting that such a beautiful place made him so angry…


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
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Lord Revan
post Jul 6 2006, 05:14 AM
Post #33


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From: Texas, USA





Who here HATES the count?.........................

well, anyway he gets his when the Deadra visit Kvatch, but whatever it was was too good for him nono.gif
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jack cloudy
post Jul 6 2006, 09:23 AM
Post #34


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Joined: 11-February 06
From: In a cold place.



Eh, everyone seems to hate the guy. He isn't exactly trying to be pleasant, so that could be expected. I'm waiting4updates. smile.gif


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sins_to_dark
post Jul 6 2006, 06:23 PM
Post #35


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Joined: 13-February 06
From: Bristol, England



Great story looking forward to updates smile.gif


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The Metal Mallet
post Jul 9 2006, 01:41 AM
Post #36


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Joined: 18-June 06
From: Kitchener, ON, Canada



A little bit of a shorter one today, surgery does be bothering my concentration. I'm expecting my next update to be a bit more interesting.


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

The Count blew a sigh of relief once Savlian vacated the gardens. He now had a situation to deal with. He needed to find out if any of the skooma dealers were apprehended. If one of them were, Goldwine needed to relieve the guard of their prisoner for “private interrogation”. If the Guard were to interrogate any skooma dealers his whole operation could be blown! Even the Count of a town can be executed for dealing with the stuff. It was Imperial Law, it was above him. A sense of panic and anxiety was building up in him.

“Brixley, I want you to immediately find Hlodir. Tell him to pay a visit to the town barracks and relieve any prisoners that have been arrested under charges of drug smuggling. They are to be interrogated by the Count’s private enforcement,” the Count ordered Brixley. A simple nod confirmed the message and Brixley calmly strolled away.

The stress had been unbelievable lately for the Count. Now things had become worse. Another murder threatened the reputation he had for running Kvatch, and now there was the chance that he could get arrested for breaking Imperial law.

He needed to get out of the sun now that his parasol was gone, so Count proceeded into his castle to try to cool himself down. Unfortunately the anxiety was making him perspire intensely. He almost felt like praying to the Nine that this current situation would work out for his benefit. He knew though that his success was based on his motives and not that of the Nine. What he needed right now to calm him down was food. Food always did his nerves good. It was the most probable fact of why he possessed a little pudge with his body.

After helping himself to some cold mutton and some cheese Brixley appeared in the dining hall. The ever blank expression across his face gave no sign of what he was going to say. Goldwine hoped that it was good news.

“Sir, Hlodir has brought an Orc by the name of Uragh into your private dungeons for interrogation. Would you like to see her?” asked the butler.

A broad grin crossed Goldwine’s face as he rose out of his seat. “Lead the way, Brixley.”


The dungeons of Castle Kvatch held a special place in the Count’s heart. He had many eventful experiences within these cold, stone walls of his dungeons. Many screams have echoed across the empty halls. Many pleas for mercy have went unanswered. Many supposed “runaways” ended up here; their intelligence rewarded with their death. Just hearing the pained panting coming from the upcoming cell sent chills of pleasure down Goldwine’s spine. Hlodir had all ready started his work.

The Count entered the cell in time to see Hlodir give Uragh a solid slap across the face. The flesh on flesh exclamation echoed loudly. Fresh blood trickled from the corner of Uragh’s mouth from the blow. She cursed audibly. When her eyes glimpsed the Count, they widened in fear. She knew what was going to happen.

Goldwine sadly looked down at the Orc chained to the walls. “Uragh, Uragh, Uragh. You screwed up. You do know what that means, correct?”

Tears streamed across Uragh’s face now. “Please sir, you don’t have to kill me. I tried so hard not to get caught, just like you asked. I never told none of the guard that it was you who wanted the skooma. I didn’t tell no one!” she begged, dropping down to her knees.

“I can’t trust you back on the streets, even if I did pardon you. It would get suspicious eyes on my back. I’m doing you a favour. Would you rather stay locked up in the dungeons for the rest of your life, or just end your miserable existence, you good-for-nothing Orc!” the Count’s anger had finally snapped, “You ruined my whole operation! Now I have to find some new lowlifes to get my operation back on track. That could lead to me getting caught again and the potential chance of me getting arrested! All because you could not simply keep the operation hidden. I pretty much had the whole thing planned out, but your stupidity lead Savlian to find you!”

In the heat of his rant the Count grabbed a nearby dagger and stormed over to the now cowering Orc. Each stab accented each word, “You! Failed! Me! MISERABLY!! You! Failed! Me! MISERABLY!!” screamed the Count.

He stopped his frantic stabbings for a moment and looked down at himself. “Now look what you’ve done!” he screamed at the corpse of Uragh, “You even ruined my good suit!”

From behind his back Hlodir chuckled.


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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jack cloudy
post Jul 9 2006, 08:13 AM
Post #37


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Joined: 11-February 06
From: In a cold place.



What an arrogant, self-centered, wimpy, fat son of a Cliffracer. nono.gif His logic horrible and he's so.....words can't describe it. Wow Mallet, you really know how to make me hate the bad guys. smile.gif If Savlian finds out.....Skooma-sweet revenge. evillol.gif


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Toroabok
post Jul 10 2006, 12:20 AM
Post #38


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Joined: 10-November 05
From: B-Town



this story is great. needs to be a book in oblivion biggrin.gif i dont usually hate bad guyz, but savlian sucks kwama eggs. tongue.gif is the bloodthirsty criminal (my fav) after savlian? i hope so. maybe, like, that one bosmer guy that died was the killers brother or something? and the bosmer that got hurt real bad is the killer? idunno...deems more like a dunmer than a bosmer, though. (hes more evil) but yea, this is a great story. keep up the good work goodjob.gif


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The Metal Mallet
post Jul 10 2006, 12:28 AM
Post #39


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From: Kitchener, ON, Canada



Things will reveal themselves in time. For instance, this post will reveal something...


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An unknown presence snapped the killer’s eyes open immediately. A shadow in the corner of his eye flickered across the room, a flash of silver flying from the folds of wispy blackness. Instantly, the killer twisted his head as the throwing knife penetrated his pillow. He withdrew his knife in a swift motion and squared off before the shadow. Two burning red embers for eyes stared back at him. The shadows around the figure receded and a robed Dunmer calmly strode up to the killer.

“It’s good to see you still have your sense of awareness, Simion,” the Dunmer quietly stated as he strode past the killer to take a seat.

Simion kept a straight face, masking his shock, and followed the newcomer to a seat across from him. “I thought testing was only for trainees, Lavos,” Simion said as he took a seat. He still kept his knife at hand though, the initial shock of the attack still clung to him.

Lavos chuckled to himself. His red eyes glowed as he looked at Simion. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I had to get you back from the time you tried that on me.”

“You didn't come a long way just to break even with a little game we played a long time ago. What actually brings you here?” Simion asked, rubbing his finger along the side of his knife.

A serious tone suddenly came from Lavos, the previous mirth in his eyes had changed to a stern, penetrating burn. “We like to keep tabs on retired guild members. Back in Morrowind we heard word of a string of murders happening in Imperial Province, Kvatch to be more specific. Since you’re here, I thought I would see what you were up to,” Lavos said, inquiry reflecting in his eyes.

“I know full well that it is against guild policy to continue my profession after I’ve retired. I’m not a fool. I would be breaking the law, writs aren’t even issued in the Imperial Province. I came here because I needed to get away from the House Wars,” Simion calmly said, staring directly at Lavos.

“Well I’m glad you still remember the rules, you did teach them to me, so I shouldn’t have questioned you about it. I have been reading about these murders though. They seem to have your… flair,” Lavos said suspiciously, fixing him with a penetrating stare as if he was trying to pierce through Simion’s defences.

“Personally, I think it’s the Dark Brotherhood. Some rich outlaw wants to weaken Kvatch’s defences so they are hiring a Dark Brotherhood agent to assassinate guards. Makes sense does it not?” Simion replied. He knew all the tricks of the trade that the Morag Tong used for interrogation. Inside he was furious that they were observing him. After all he did for the guild! They get involved with his personal goals.

“Yes, the Brotherhood is likely the culprit to this, the guild just has to make certain of these things, that’s all Simion. I apologize again for the stupid stunt I tried there, I might’ve killed you if you haven’t kept up with your skills,” said Lavos.

“It was all instinct there, Lavos. I accept your apology all the same. Would you please leave me to my retirement though? If the Dark Brotherhood knew there was a former Morag Tong member living in their territory, I could become a potential target,” Simion said as he began to usher Lavos to the door.

As they reached the door, Lavos turned around. “We must keep in touch. The guild has missed you terribly, the stories have been less interesting without you there. Why don’t you come out of retirement? You’re still young, and it seems your technique won’t take long to refresh,” Lavos asked with a dash of hope mixed in with his voice.

“I’m sorry, the killing became to much for me. You saw what happened with my last contract, I almost killed you. I need to stay away from it, less that madness takes me over again,” Simion sadly said, “Goodbye, Lavos. I will try to write to the guild though, or at least to you.”

“Farewell,” Lavos said as he exited the house.

Simion slowly closed the door. If Lavos honestly thought he fooled him, he thought wrong. Lavos was going to be sticking around Kvatch now, snooping on him, and likely vying for information from the guards on the conditions of his murders. This was going to be another obstacle to overcome, he now must avoid suspicion from his former guild member. He knew that Lavos really thought he was the culprit, but Lavos’ loyalty to him gave knowledge to Simion that the guild was, indeed, suspicious of him.

He must die! If he suspects you, he must bleed!

It has only been a day since the last murder and yet the pulse inside his head was nearly driving him mad. It was alarming how quickly the pulse had returned. It threatened his very control over himself it seemed. He must achieve his vengeance soon, or else he would lose his mind to this chaos within his mind. Yet, with Lavos now watching from the shadows, he must be more wary…

He made up his mind; he was going to hunt tonight.


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I am currently a Writer in The Order of Schola.
Official Fan Fiction Forum "Commentasaurus"

"This body, holding me makes me feel eternal. All this pain is an illusion" - Parabola (Tool)
"This here ain't called boasting, it's called truthin' " - Mango Kid (Danko Jones)
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Toroabok
post Jul 10 2006, 02:38 AM
Post #40


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Joined: 10-November 05
From: B-Town



niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.....this story gets better and better....hmph...he needs to just slit Lavos' throat. evillol.gif emot-ninja1.gif


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