Bloodlust, Written by a Fan Fiction Newbie Options

[jack cloudy]

Poor Simion. Now just what is that voice? Oh, if it belongs to someone who's not known as Simion's imagination, that thing definitely deserves a good whacking. It makes me sick.

Ahem, while I hate the voice, I love the story. Keep it up.

[Black Hand]

Yes! lovely sadistic update!

Ding-Dong! Tong calling!

[Soulseeker3.0]

I loved the update, it is a shame the voice has complete and utter control of Simion though. I'll be waiting for the next update.

[minque]

Yes! lovely sadistic update!

Ding-Dong! Tong calling!

I loved the update, it is a shame the voice has complete and utter control of Simion though. I'll be waiting for the next update.

Oh yes..me too, I´m waiting, you´re a very good writer MM!!!

[The Metal Mallet]

Wow, with work being so busy today, I'm surprized I was able to get this update done! Damn I'm tired! Anyways, enjoy the update!


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

The voice abruptly disappeared as Simion fumbled around in the dark to light a lamp. The clumsiness was mainly due to recovering from the effects the voice had on him rather than the lack of light. Another soft knock sounded against the door when Simion finally got a lamp lit. He gave himself a quick inspection, making sure there was no blood upon him.

Who could possibly be knocking on my door? Simion thought warily as he approached the door. Then it struck him. Savlian! He must’ve figured out it was Simion all ready. Simion certainly wasn’t prepared to be taken away though. He readied a knife as he slowly unlocked the door.

In the darkness stood a robed form. The glowing red eyes quickly gave away that the robed figure was a Dunmer, which shocked Simion at first as he thought he was staring at the ghost of Lavos. He then realised that the face seemed darker in places. The robed figure took a step closer and Simion found out the reason for why the Dunmer’s face was darker; it was because of a black hand tattoo covering the majority of his face. With that, Simion made the connection of whom he was facing.

“Sethyas! What brings you to this neck of the woods? Come in!” Simion said cheerfully, hoping to mask his astonishment.

Sethyas walked casually in, peering at his surrounding and getting a baring on what he was dealing with. "Sorry to have woken you up, but I felt the need was urgent enough,” he said apologetically.

Simion was still trying to figure out why Sethyas was even here. He had never really spoken with the mer before. Simion was all ready planning on retirement as Sethyas had just began his rise in the ranks of the Morag Tong. That didn’t go to say that Simion knew nothing of the man. He was considered one of the Tong’s most revered assassins, not to mention he was the Incarnate of Neravar Indoril.

“It’s no big deal, Master Sethyas. What’s the urgent thing you speak of though?” Simion inquired.

“Please, call me Sethyas, Simion, you’re retired; there’s no need for formalities,” Sethyas said, helping himself to a chair, “As for the urgent need we must speak of. It’s in regards to Lavos; he’s missing.”

Simion felt himself go cold. Even from the grave, Lavos was still trying to defeat him! Simion maintained composure though. “I don’t see what that had to do with me, Sethyas,” he said, faking ignorance.

Sethyas paused, observing Simion, his eyes glowing with thoughts that Simion couldn’t even detect. Simion was good at guessing at people’s thoughts too.

“Well, we thought that since he was your friend, he would’ve visited you. Has he come in contact with you?” Sethyas continued.

“No,” Simion replied curtly.

“Strange, I would’ve thought for certain that he would’ve contacted you. Have you not even received a message from him at all?”

“No, not a word at all. We didn’t really part on the most amiable of terms, but you wouldn’t know of that,” Simion answered.

“Actually I do, Lavos mentioned the incident where you nearly killed him after taking care of the Dark Brotherhood located in the canal works to me. Did you ever figure out why you did such a thing? I’m curious now,” Sethyas asked casually, though his eyes still held a piercing gaze upon Simion.

Simion couldn’t help but feel a little tense under such a gaze. “What I believed to have happened was that my inhibition to kill took control, I couldn’t stop it until it was satisfied,” Simion answered slowly.

Sethyas nodded slowly, but his expression said something else. “I just find it odd that someone with your experience and training would just lose it like that… “ he said, trailing off.

“I believe it was mainly due to the fact that I was killing our sworn enemies. I enjoyed killing them, which led to the loss of control,” Simion said, defending himself.

“Probable, I guess,” Sethyas said absently, fingering at his ring underneath his black gloves.

Simion was starting to get bothered by the mer’s statements. “Well if that’s all you wanted to talk to me about, you got your answer. I would like it if you could leave now; I still wish to have some sleep tonight,” Simion said stiffly.

Sethyas rose from the chair, taking a final look around. “Of course, I’ll leave you to rest. Sorry for bugging you about something as trivial as Lavos,” Sethyas said apologetically as he headed for the door, which Simion held open.

Just before Simion closed the door, Sethyas turned around to face him once more. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Simion.” After that he, walked off into the night.

Simion closed the door, resting his head against it in mixed relief and anxiety. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked aloud quietly.

“It means he knows! Are you that foolish to believe that one of the Tong’s best assassins is just going to pay you a visit simply because Lavos is “missing”?” the Voice echoed within Simion’s head, the suddenness staggering Simion.

“What?” Simion said, confused before he could actually comprehend, “Of course! Lavos must’ve left a message to them. They knew he was sent to speak with me.”

“Yes… You’re finally starting to understand. Now, what must be done?”

“I must… eliminate them.”




Dren, as well as his other compatriots milled about in “The Flying Bosmer”, sipping various bottles of alcohol. Even at this time of night, the Inn was still rather busy and smoke filled the rafters of the place. Dren’s eyes hurt just thinking about it.

Dren’s fingers tapped impatiently on top of his table. His thoughts were troubled.

Why would Sethyas tell us he wanted to see Simion alone? The man is obviously dangerous! He thought as the minutes crept away.

Dren was more than relieved when he saw Sethyas enter the Inn. They exchanged nods before Sethyas sat in the seat opposite of him.

“So what did you find out?” Dren inquired.

“He’s been killing,” Sethyas said quietly, “I saw a bloody glove underneath a table.”

Dren thought as much. “So what’s our next course of action then?”

Sethyas sighed. “We stick to the code. We have to kill him.”

[Black Hand]

*drool** That was one of the best descriptions of Sethyas I read....dammit,...I dont get to say that! (Even though it was.)

And it appeared my suspicions were confirmed, I enjoy seeing where this will lead next, keep it up friend!

[minque]

Woah! Nice cameo there! I really enjoyed reading this, not to mention the appearance of our Sethyas! Good work Revie! Really good work, keep it coming!

[The Metal Mallet]

Revie!? I'm Mallet silly!!!

But thanks for the comments both of you. And I'm glad to hear that I'm doing Black Hand's character justice.

This post has been edited by The Metal Mallet: Dec 9 2006, 08:47 PM

[minque]

Revie!? I'm Mallet silly!!!

But thanks for the comments both of you. And I'm glad to hear that I'm doing Black Hand's character justice.

IIIIIIHH!!! Jeez Mallie! I´m SOOO sorry! ahhh can you forgive me? I just have a conversation with Revie in the RP......so I think I must have mixed you two.....ughh must be age!

[Lord Revan]

Amusing......... anyway MM, well done. This has always been a great and interesting story since the first chapter. So keep up the great writing!

[Soulseeker3.0]

Huzzah, great update MM, and i loved Sethyas's and Simion's conversation, brilliant.

"please sir, can i have some more?"

[jack cloudy]

It's reaching a climax here. Keep going, my addiction must be satisfied. Crap, the voice has me in his grip!

[mplantinga]

So much death and planning of death. I wish there was some way to resolve the issue without having to kill. But, I guess the story is about bloodlust, so perhaps I'll just have to deal with it.

[The Metal Mallet]

Alright, first off, I forgive you minque . Secondly, I can understand your sentiments mplantinga, it's just that I intended my story to be "gritty" and "dark", so I know that my story won't sit well with everyone. I'm am playing around with an idea for the conclusion, I have yet to make up my mind on which path I'll take though. I won't spoil it anymore than that though Here's the update!



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

Savlian was torn with two decisions he had to make. Two threats on Kvatch stood before him, yet he could only effectively pursue one of them at a time. One path led to Hlodir, the other, to this copycat murderer. Both were dangerous, but deep down Savlian knew Hlodir was the bigger threat. He possessed followers willing to do his dirty work. He likely had them all over the town, organising their next movement with the overall failure of their treasury attack. Savlian knew he had to dispose of Hlodir in order for the attacks to stop. Hlodir possessed a dangerous charisma that could replenish those he lost in battle. The murderer would have to wait; Hlodir was indeed the most important issue.

After his short investigation at the murder scene, Savlian returned to the Count’s Castle and went over the maps once more to figure out Hlodir’s hideout. They decided the only likely place north of the spot that Ormeillus ran into Hlodir, was a cave called Jgorg. Tomorrow, they would launch an attack upon the cave, hopefully catching them unexpected. Savlian spent the rest of the day working with Ormeillus on organising the attack.

“I think that’ll be enough planning for today, Savlian. Or should I say night,” Ormeillus said as he glanced out the window to see darkness. A glass of brandy was held in his hand.

Savlian took his attention away from the charts of tallies of infantry and battle tactics. He rubbed at his dry eyes. “We’re not finished though,” Savlian replied.

Ormeillus waved off Savlian’s remark. “I can finish it on my own. I need to stay in Kvatch, so I won’t need my rest as much as you will, since you’ll be leading this attack. I need you rested,” Ormeillus stated, taking a sip of his brandy afterwards.

Savlian thought about objecting, but realised that he was indeed tired and needed some rest. “You’re right. When do you want me to arrive at the barracks?”

“0900. On the button,” Ormeillus said, his militaristic tone setting in as he returned his attention back to the charts, “You’re dismissed.”

Savlian snapped a salute before exiting the room. He immediately directed himself to his home.

On the journey, Savlian’s mind couldn’t help but drift towards Simion. Savlian knew the Breton was smart, he had seen it when he interrogated him. So obviously, Simion would’ve done the smart thing and stopped killing so that he could avoid charges from his previous murders. He wouldn’t just throw his life away would he? Savlian didn’t think so, but why did he have this inkling that Simion was behind the murder of Madsen? His murder could be blamed on coincidence; the homeless can upset certain types of people into violence. Yet, the conclusion that Simion was getting Madsen back for speaking to the authorities made a good motive for this to happen.

Savlian frowned and shook his head in frustration. No, Simion was keeping his end of the deal. It was simply a copycat who didn’t have the guts to kill a guard, so they resort to killing hapless people like Madsen. That had to be it.

Savlian wearily entered his home and began to remove his cloak. An odd creak sounded from the corner of his bedroom. Savlian’s tired eyes immediately sharpened. His house wasn’t the creaking type. Savlian edged out his broadsword and stalked towards the source of the creak. He entered his bedroom and looked around, only to find emptiness. Everything looked as it should have looked. Except for the wind gushing out his open window.

A sudden roar erupted from his closest as two men dressed in dark clothing burst out of it, daggers poised to attack.

Savlian quickly threw a nearby chair at his attackers, buying himself time to prepare himself as the two stumbled over each other when the chair collided into them. Savlian thrust out his sword, and the first attack fell to the ground. The other decided to throw his dagger at Savlian, catching him in the shoulder of his sword arm.

Savlian cried out in pain, his sword dropping to the floor. The attacker pulled out another dagger, his face grinning in contempt. “I’m gonna stick ya pig!” he sneered and lunged in for the attack.

Savlian swerved around the thrust of the attacker’s dagger, and he grabbed a hold of it at the hilt. The two men struggled between each other over control of the dagger. Savlian used his momentum to smash his attacker into the hard, hoping to stun him and gain the dagger. The attacker took the smash well, and seized the dagger still lodged in Savlian’s shoulder. Lances of pain shivered through Savlian’s body as the attack twisted the blade lodged in Savlian’s arm. Savlian released his grip from the dagger, and received an elbow to the face. He staggered backwards, his eyes watering from the blow.

His attacker yelled in fury as he charged at Savlian once more, his confidence brimming since the Captain was hurt. Savlian saw the blur heading towards him, so he decided to duck down and wrap his arms around his attacker, propelling him into the wall once more. This time, the attacker’s head smashed into the sturdy wall, knocking him unconscious. The attacker and his knife clattered to the floor as Savlian sat back. His vision was clear once more, but the pain still remained in earnest. Savlian gripped the knife in his shoulder and winced at the applied pressure. Quickly, he pulled the knife out of him and nearly passed out from the pain in doing so. Blood ran freely down his arm.

Savlian knew he kept some potions in his cabinet, so he slowly worked his way over and got one. Savlian downed the potion and nausea gripped his stomach as the tissue and damaged muscle of his shoulder began to knit itself together. Savlian’s breaths came out raggedly. He was beyond exhausted, but now he had a mess to clean up.

Back in his bedroom, Savlian studied the first attacker, who now rested in a pool of his own blood. Savlian was certain that he wouldn’t be getting up, so he continued to the second attacker. They were still unconscious, but Savlian ensured his safety by tying the Imperial up. Just as he finished, the attacker came to.

“Ugh…. What the?” the attacker stated groggily, as they began to struggle against the ropes.

“Good, you’re awake, we have some talking to do,” Savlian said cheerfully as he fiddled with one of the attacker’s dagger.

The eyes of the Imperial widened. “Uh, sure! We can talk. I tell you anything you want,” he sputtered out quickly.

“Excellent! First, we’re going to go for a walk though,” Savlian said, maintaining his mockingly warm tone.



“Savlian! I thought I told you to get some rest!” Ormeillus said heatedly as he peered at him from the crack of the opened office door.

“I have someone with me. I was attacked in my home again. Let me in,” Savlian said in a no-nonsense manner.

Ormeillus expression immediately went from angry to concerned as he opened the door to allow Savlian and his captive in. “Come! Come! Are you all right?”

“I’ll survive. Right now, we’ve got some questioning to do,” Savlian said, motioning to his captive, who now was sporting a heavy layer of perspiration.

Ormeillus nodded and turned towards the captive. “Who ordered you to kill the Captain of the Guard?” he demanded.

“Hlodir sir. He said I’d get 500 septims if I returned with proof,” the captive said complacently.

“Hlodir! I figured as much,” Savlian said, looking over the Count’s additions to tomorrow’s attack.

“Wait… I remember you! You were with Hlodir that day I spoke with him on the road from Chorrol. You know where his hideout is, correct?” Ormeillus said, anticipation rising in his voice.

“Yes, I was there that day, and yes, I know where his hideout is. It’s an abandoned fortress, called Fort Falkrek,” the captive said.

“Falkrek? But that’s south, the Count saw you travel north,” Savlian said in confusion.

“That’s right, we did travel north. Once we were out of your view, we circled back and headed south,” the captive stated simply.

“Of course! Hlodir would’ve expected I would remember the direction he rode off when he left. He’s smart for a Nord,” Ormeillus said, angry with himself.

“Well, it seems that most of these plans are useless now,” Savlian said dryly, slightly annoyed that all that work was for naught.

“Actually, we’ll just delay the attack until nighttime. Falkrek is actually closer than Jgorg, so we’ll spend most of tomorrow redoing our tactics. For now, I want you to place this man in a cell in the barracks and get some rest there. You seem to have a problem with sleeping at home,” he ordered, though the last part was said light heartily.

Savlian nodded his understanding; he was more then simply tired now. Tomorrow wasn’t going to get much better though. With Hlodir defeated though, he knew it would be worth the exhaustion.

[Soulseeker3.0]

excellent update MM, you made me cringe when you talked about the knife getting twisted out of Savlian's arm. I like it please keep up the good work

[mplantinga]

A spectacularly visceral description of the attack on Savlian. Too many of those and may own stomach may have some nausea problems.

I do hope that the Imperial told the truth; I'd hate to see Savlian walk into an ambush at the Fort.

[minque]

Oh my, bloodlust it´s the name of this story and....well it´s really suitable! But well written as usual...and I have confidence in Savlian..I mean you won´t let him die , right?

[jack cloudy]

Wow, the attacks are neverending. Who needs the Daedra? All we need is a crazy Nord and a possessed Dunmer.

Somehow I've got the feeling that the assault on the fortress will be a slaughter. I don't know why. *looks at the title*
I really don't know why.

[The Metal Mallet]

The late afternoon sky was particularly sunny for this time of year, a good sign in Savlian’s books. It was as if the Divines themselves were granting good weather for a safe journey. Savlian appreciated it, as his destination was not a good one. He and Ormellius rode with a large contingent of soldiers towards the “abandoned” Fort Falkrek. There, Hlodir awaited them, though the visit was going to be a surprise one. Hopefully.

Savlian kept silent for the majority of the journey, his thoughts preoccupied with the upcoming battle among other things. He couldn’t help but think that his feud with Hlodir was fast approaching a decisive conclusion. That only one of them would survive the outcome of this battle.

Savlian briefly clenched the reins of his horse. He intended to make sure it was he who would survive the outcome of this. Ormellius and Savlian had spent sufficient time in the morning to reform the tactics to take Fort Falkrek. Their idea was basic, but effective. Plus, the factor of it being an unexpected attack certainly bettered their chances.

Ormellius looked over to Savlian, who nodded assuredly. Even in the little time they had met, Savlian discovered that he felt a sense of comradeship with the new Count. Maybe it was because Ormellius was a soldier himself, or that he genuinely cared about Kvatch, but Savlian knew that this was a person who would help Kvatch. By eliminating Hlodir, the last remnants of Vernon’s rule would be abolished. Afterwards, Kvatch had nowhere to go but up. Savlian felt hope with such thoughts.

“Darkness will arrive shortly,” Ormellius said softly, “When it does, the march will have to slow. We don’t want to injure the horses.”

Savlian nodded as his eyes scanned the horizon for the ruins. “I take it we’re still a few hours away. By then, darkness will have fully arrived.”




Hlodir picked at his venison ravenously, allowing the juices of the meat to run freely down his chin. It had been a busy day recruiting, so he had forgotten to eat all day. His hunger was well worth the effort though. He had managed to coerce a considerable amount of people to make the trip to the fort; the promise of a piece of Kvatch’s riches having a decision-making effect on those willing to join.

His thoughts still dwelled on the attack on the Treasury. While the Treasury was destroyed, he lost quite a few men, one of those being his mage, and none of the gold was recovered by his men.

What he didn’t know was whether Savlian took part in the battle. It was likely, but none of his survivors could say that he was there. Hlodir hoped that his assassins did their jobs, that Savlian was taken care of. Though Hlodir assumed he would find out once he performed his next move. It was undecided at the moment, but once he figured it out, he knew it would be successful.

He took a swig of his mead and smiled smugly. Soon, Kvatch would be his. Count Hlodir did sound nice on his ears. All that was needed was for Ormellius and Savlian to disappear.

Rapid, echoing footsteps reached Hlodir’s ears. That was one thing he didn’t like about the depths of the Fortress, sound carried quite easily. He did notice that they were getting louder though. Shortly, an Orc burst through his doorway, his black hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

“We’re under attack!” said the breathless Orc.

“What!? By who?” Hlodir demanded, rising from his seat.

“I couldn’t see them, they’re hiding in the darkness. I think they’re soldiers though.”

“Savlian!” Hlodir said cursing. He unsheathed his longsword and led the Orc out of his room.

Somehow he found me. But how? I was sure I led Ormellius off in the wrong direction. That only means… those bastards! My assassins betrayed me!



“Fire!” Savlian shouted as the archers released another volley of arrows into the encampment surrounding the ruins of the Fort. It turned out that the assassin has spoken the truth. When darkness had fallen, the campfires of those surrounding the Fort acted as a beacon for Savlian and his men. The camp’s sentries had been lax in their duties, so Savlian managed to have the whole Fort surrounded easily. Now, Savlian intended to thin their ranks with a barrage of arrows.

Cries of pain and despair sounded from those entrenched in the encampment as the arrows ploughed into them. Before any form of retaliation could be made, Savlian unleashed another volley of arrows. Savlian signalled to a specific archer, who fired a single flaming arrow up into the air. It was time to use the steel.

Sounding a battle cry, Savlian brandished his broadsword and charged into the encampment. Soldiers ran alongside him, shouting their own battle cries. The noise they created was deafening. Savlian saw fear stricken eyes as he stormed from out of the shadows to engage the enemy. His sword bit into the flesh of all enemies within his reach. Nothing was going to stop him from finding Hlodir.

It seemed that some semblance of order had been established in the enemy ranks as now sounds of steel clashing against steel rose from the sound of dying men. Survival was ultimate goal in this battle. Hlodir and his men were fighting for survival presently. Savlian and his men were fighting for their future survival. If Savlian were to fail here, they certainly would’ve failed in the future. What mattered most was to avoid failure.

Savlian noticed one of his fellow soldiers struggling with a raggedy Breton, so he lunged in to aid his comrade with a well placed thrust that brought the Breton down. The soldier nodded his thanks before his expression suddenly turned alarmed. He looked as though he was going to attack Savlian, but in reality he parried an attack that Savlian didn’t noticed was coming for him. Savlian immediately regained his composure and helped finish off the attacker. Savlian nodded his thanks before setting off one more.

The battle was set at a gruelling pace, with no mercy given to any side of the battle. Slowly though, the bandits in the encampment were beginning to tighten together around the entrance of the Fort as the battling Kvatch soldiers continued to pressure them. Desperation clung to the eyes of the bandits as they vainly defended themselves, consistently falling to the Kvatch steel.

Savlian shouted encouragement to those around him to further their momentum. He began to notice that bandits were slowly filtering themselves through the entrance of Fort, as though they would find safety within its confines. Savlian realised that if Hlodir was anywhere, it would be within the Fort. Savlian intended Hlodir to fall to his sword, so he gathered those around him. Using their shields, they formed a human battering ram of sorts and charged through the bandits in their way to the Fort entrance.

Upon entering, the ram broke open as the Kvatch soldiers engaged those surrounding the entrance. Savlian ordered the entrance to the fort to be locked and blocked. No enemy was going to attack their rear. Savlian felt that only Ormellius would have the equipment capable to breach the doors. Savlian gathered his small force together.

“From here we take things slowly, I suggest to shed some of the armour so we can manoeuvre better. We’re the only ones in here, so don’t count on backup for a wile. We can only count on each other,” Savlian said quietly, peering down the hallway for signs of approaching trouble.

“Sir, I think we’re going to need to split up. Though we are a small force, we’re still too big to be travelling down these halls together,” one of the soldiers voiced.

Savlian nodded. “You’re right. I suggest groups of about 4-6. Once we find some forks, we’ll break off from each other. Everyone understand?” Savlian said, looking each man in the eye for comprehension. Satisfied, Savlian wiped the blood off his broadsword.

“Alright, let’s move out.”

[canis216]

Ah, excellent update. You are good with these fights.