A Blood Omen fanfic? OH NO!

A few things here. First, I want to do a fanfic for Blood Omen, the first game in the LoK series, but I do NOT want those bastards at fanfiction.net to get their yaoi-stained hands on it! Thus, I must use the safe haven of this board.

The thing is, Blood Omen’s status as a RPG is VERY debatable; it certainly has a lot of RPG elements, but it plays more like an action game. And the rest of the series is nothing more than a bunch of platformers (like Tomb Raider shudders), so I definately CAN’T do fanfics on them on this board. Of course, Star did get away with a Metroid: Fusion (aka the only good game in the Metroid series) fanfic, so why can’t I?

So, would this be allowed?

Tsk, tsk, Galloway, a veteran like you should know that here, all stories are allowed. :slight_smile: Write and post away. As for whether it’s for the archives or not those who have played the game can discuss.

Me actually owning the original BO, I say let it in. It’s got some RPG elements in it (strengths and weaknesses etc, and a big (for it’s day) world, and some other stuff, so let it in the archive already! :stuck_out_tongue:
Of course, I am a big LoK fanboy.

Blood Reign
By d_Galloway

Chapter 1: Ressurection…at a Price

I slowly rode my way into the hamlet of Ziegsturhl. The only thought that crossed my mind was how pathetic this excuse for a settlement was. A few small buildings, the largest of which was a pub, hardly constituted as anything. If it were not for my dire situation, I would have never even thought about entering such a place.

I tethered my horse to a tree near the entrance of the hamlet and entered the pub. Like the rest of this god-forsaken settlement, it was nearly empty. The few patrons did not even lay an eye upon me; they were too busy with the ladies of the night. I took a seat by the bar.

“The tavern is closing!” shouted the bartender. “Go back to your homes, men!” Everyone else left, except for me.

“What?” I shouted. “No mug of ale for a weary traveller? I could reward you greatly, for I am from Coorhagen and am of noble blood.”

“I stay open for no man in these dark times,” replied the bartender. “Things come with the night that no sane man would welcome.”

I sighed, then left, cold of heart and stone, into the long, bitter night.

As I made my way out of the tavern, I felt that something was wrong. I turned towards my horse, only to find it brutally mutilated. Large carts were turned over, blocking the only exits out of the hamlet. Then I heard someone shout, “There he is! Get him!”

I turned, and saw lowly brigands rushing out from all sides. They were lowly brigands, not worthy of being struck by my blade, but I had no choice. I drew my sword and shouted my battle cry, “Vae Victus!”

One of the brigands charged at me, only to fall when my sword went straight through his chest. I then sliced open two others in one stroke, then stabbed another from behind. And yet, the brigands still threw themselves at me. They were pathetic, unwilling to realize how outmatched they were. I raised my sword to strike the last few of my attackers down.

Then I felt something strike my back, followed by a sharp stabbing pain. I fell to the ground as the last of my attackers backed away. I could hear one shout, “Finish it!”

Then I felt something stab straight through my body. Pain washed all over me, then I felt nothing as darkness consumed me.

I found myself chained to two pillars. Around me was fire and molten rock. I looked down, and saw an iron sword stuck through my body. It was no doubt the same weapon that had struck me down.

I looked across the endless horizon. Vae Victus…“suffering to the conquered.” How ironic, I thought. Now I was the one that was suffering. It was nothing simple like physical pain; rather, it was a cruel jab of impotent anger, the hunger for revenge. I didn’t care if I was in Heaven or Hell; all I wanted was to kill my assassins.

“Imagine this,” said a haunty voice from behind. “Kain, nobleman of Coorhagen, trapped in the eternal abyss. How pathetic.”

“Who dares to speak of me like that?” I shouted. “I was overpowered by an entire army of assassins!”

“Oh, really?” said the voice. “Then explain this.” I felt the sword being pulled out from behind. It wasn’t a feeling of pain, though; it was only a tingling sensation.

Finally, my mysterious speaker appeared in front of me. He was a tall, bony man with a black robe and clothing that seemed to be made out of human bone. He freed me from my chains, then said, “I will give you what you wish: revenge on those that murdered you.”

“How could you offer me such a thing?” I said.

“Patience, Kain,” he said. “I am Mortanius the Necromancer. I can return you from the grave, at a price.”

“I care not for what the price is!” I shouted. “I seek nothing but revenge! I will destroy my murderers!”

“Of course you will!” said Mortanius. “Now, we shall begin…” I then felt pain for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. I felt my body quiver and shake with newfound power. My hair began to turn a disturbing shade of white, while my teeth began to transform into fangs. Mortanius handed me the sword my attackers had used, and before I could help myself, I licked the blood caked onto it.

“What is this?” I shouted.

“I have returned you from the grave,” said Mortanius. “Now, pass through the flames, and you will return to the land of the living.” I rose to my feet and staggered through fire and magma, finding that it did not damage me as I wore my new armor.

The necromancer laughed behind me. “You will have the blood you hunger for.”

I found myself in a cold, stone coffin. Normally, it would take a great deal of strength to lift such the lid of such a thing, but I was able to throw it clean off with one nudge. I climbed out of the grave, finding that someone had recently opened it. I never doubted for a second that the necromancer had a hand in this development.

I looked at my pale body, examining the many changes I had endured. The necromancer was right; I had been restored at a price. In my foolishness, I had not realized what this price was. I had awakened to the pain of a new existance…as a vampire.

(to be continued)

Chapter 2: Blood and Revenge

I opened the door to my tomb and entered the mausoleum. Lying at my feet, however, was a scroll. When I examined it, I found a series of arcane runes written in a strange pattern. The only english words were at the bottom. They read:

“This spell is linked to your grave, and will allow you to return to rest if you become weak. I hope it will aid you.”

I smiled. The necromancer had promised me much, it seemed. I decided to call this the “Sanctuary” spell, because of its function.

I continued through the mausoleum, until I found a gravedigger. He raised his head from his menial task and looked straight at me, then gasped. “A…a monster!” he shrieked, before raising his shovel and swinging at my head. I smashed the shovel with one punch, then sliced the gravedigger’s head off with one clean slice. A fountain of blood erupted from his body. Filled with my unholy hunger, I raised my head and allowed the blood to flow into my mouth.

My thirst quenched, I continued my way, until I was finally out of the accursed mausoleum. The first thing I noticed when I exited the cold, dark tomb, however, was the terrible feeling I felt when I entered the unforgiving light for the first time. I had not expected such cruelty, even after discovering about my curse. Then, as I continued down the path, it began to rain. As the water hit the back of my neck, I felt the flesh begin to burn and cinder. I then remembered that water is acidic to vampires, and thus ducked into a smaller tomb until the rain stopped.

I decided to explore the tomb more thoroughly. A few gravediggers tried to stop me, but they did little more than quench my appetite. Then, to my horror, I found a young woman chained to a wall, as if someone had decided to throw her into this portal to hell simply for their cruel amusement.

“Please!” she shouted. “Help me!” I admired her beauty, her flawless complexion. She was perfect in every way. That is why I did not hesitate to sink my teeth into her neck. She squirmed briefly, then slumped lifelessly against the wall. Just a short walk away from her, though, I spied a small satchel. When I opened it, I found a series of curious devices, shaped like a three-pointed star with blades.

I remembered these objects from a weaponsmith in Coorhagen. They were called flails, small throwing weapons capable of ripping the flesh clean off a man’s bones. Thanking my luck for these small weapons, I pocketed them before leaving through a secret passage leading out of the cemetary.

(to be continued)


Oooh, a novelisation. Cool. As with so many early PS1 games, the storyline was severely mauled and cut down in BO. Hopefully we’ll see this fic do it justice.:cool:

Nice… Maybe this will make me start a project on Raziel, just to see how it turns out.

The rain had stopped, and the clouds parted, revealing a full moon. The darkness seemed to empower me, making me stronger than I thought possible. The wind picked up a familiar stench from the woods in the distance. In life, I would have not regarded such a thing, but now, I could tell exactly what that stench was. It was the smell of my assassins.

I raised my sword in preperation. My hunger was growing again, and I had a specific meal in mind this time. I made my way into the woods, until I was right next to the source of the stench. I ducked behind a tree, and saw my assassins, all drunk and resting.

“Can you believe how easy that bastard went down?” I heard one say.

“That guy was such a wimp,” said another. “We’ve had harder times than that.”

I cursed their bragging. I had slaughtered many of their kind; they only killed me because I was stabbed from behind. They were cowards…and cowards do not deserve to live. I grabbed a tree branch and purposely snapped it in half.

The brigands looked up from their pathetic drinks. One of them picked up his sword and approached the trees I was hiding behind. His expression when he saw me was breathtaking. My sword went straight through his neck, sending his head rolling down his body.

The others rose to their feet and charged. “What matter of sorcery is this?” shouted one of them.

“We killed him once,” shouted another. “We can do it again!”

Not even I can remember exactly what occured during the carnage. Limbs flew everywhere, screams drowned out all other noise, the ground was soaked in spilled blood, and all other signs of death filled that one spot. When it was over, my assassins were dead.

I filled myself on their blood, content with the knowledge that the bastards that killed me were banished to hell. My vengence was complete…

“Not so fast, Kain.” I could hear that blasted necromancer’s voice ringing in my head. “Those fools were only the instruments of your murder, not the cause. Seek out their masters. Seek out the pillars…”

(to be continued)

Chapter 3: The Pillars of Nosgoth

I pondered the necomancer’s words briefly. The only pillars such a man could mean were the Pillars of Nosgoth. In my many journeys, I had never seen anything as beautiful as the pillars, and yet, many spoke of strange powers and occurances at the bases of those very objects. When I was alive, I did not give any attention to these wild claims, but after being cursed with vampirism, having walked through the flames of Hell itself, I no longer had the will to doubt any possibility.

I walked down the road. I began to note many of my new abilities; I could see perfectly well in the pitch-black night, and my strength seemed to be restored as I finished sucking the blood out of a body I had dragged along. I discarded the corpse in the nearby water. Then I spied a small wooden sign, next to a stone bridge. It pointed to the east, and simply said, “Ziegsturhl.” The town I was murdered in…

I followed the road, until I was back in the pathetic town. A few young women were conversing by the tavern window, oblivious to my presence. That is, until I snapped one of their necks from behind. The others tried to scream, but I quickly finished them with one slash from my sword. I then drank their fresh blood.

I walked into a nearby house. A fat, slobbering drunk and his dirt-stained wife were eating a pathetic meal of moldy bread and filthy water. The man stood and grabbed an axe, but blocked his swing with one hand and ripped out his heart with the other. I then took the axe and threw it at his cowering wife. It imbedded itself straight into her neck.

I left the corpses, now drained completely of blood, lying on the porch. It seemed I had effectively taken care of half of the hamlet’s population. That left only the tavern. I smashed the doors open with one kick. The patrons rose to their feet in horror.

“What do you think you’re doing, stranger!” shouted a lowly whore. “Get out!” She walked up and slapped me across the face. Not unexpectantly, I felt nothing from her strike, and returned her hatred with a smile. Then I sliced her in half.

The others jumped at me, each one carrying some sort of makeshift weapon. The tavern owner cowered behind his counter. I tore my attackers apart, then drank what little blood I could salvage from them. The tavern owner crawled back as I approached.

“Please, no!” he shouted. I reached into the satchel I had procurred in the crypt and removed three of the flails.

“When I was a man,” I said, “you denied me a simple mug of ale. You were worried that ‘creatures of the night’ would come and kill you. Well…” I threw the flails. One ripped his head off, one tore open his chest, causing his organs to spill out onto the floor, and the third shevered his manhood from his body.

“…I guess one did,” I finished. I grabbed some oil-soaked rags from a corner of the tavern and lit them ablaze with some flint and my sword. The tavern began to burn almost instantly. I walked away from the carnage, and the hamlet, feeling much more relieved.

I continued down the road. Only a few foolish brigands dared to attack me; most stayed as far away from me and my bloodied sword and teeth. Finally, I reached a cliff, which overlooked the distant pillars.

Once again, I was entranced by their beauty. It seemed that even vampires were not incapable of emotion. However, something was very wrong. I could feel a sense of sorrow and dread resonating from the pillars. Still, I pressed on, oblivious to what was awaiting me.

(to be continued)

Next time: Kain meets Ariel, and begins his quest proper.

Interesting, if gruesome. That’s quite a trail of death the protaganist is leaving behind him. You’re writing is good: well described without belaboring the point and progressing plot-wise at a reasonable pace. There were a few little typos (shevered instead of severed for instance), but not a distracting amount.

Originally posted by demigod
Interesting, if gruesome. That’s quite a trail of death the protaganist is leaving behind him. You’re writing is good: well described without belaboring the point and progressing plot-wise at a reasonable pace. There were a few little typos (shevered instead of severed for instance), but not a distracting amount.

That’s one of the best things about the LoK series. Kain is NOT a hero, nor is he even close to being one. Whenever he does something, it’s only to serve his own ends. He slaughters entire towns just for the hell of it. He kills his friends without remorse (except for about two instances is the series, none of which occur in Blood Omen). Unfortunately, he’s been upstaged by another character in the Soul Reaver arc, which is better than Blood Omen 2, which is an abomination to gaming of all kinds.

After nearly an hour of stopless walking, I reached the Pillars of Nosgoth. Their imposing forms were stained black and cracked, as if they would crumble at any second. On each was inscribed a symbol, for which that pillar would stand: the Pillars of the Mind, Conflict, Nature, Energy, States, Dimension, Time, Death, and Balance. They were arranged so that the Pillar of Balance would lie in the middle of the great stone platform, while the other eight would surround the sides.

However, it was not the pillars that caught my gaze this time; rather, it was the apparation that was floating among them. I instantly recognized it as a ghost, a spirit trapped to this world through either anger or grief. From what I could tell, it seemed to be the latter in this case. The ghost was a woman, with a long dress that seemed to cover her legs. Her face was partly-rotted off, her hair was old and twisted, and her gaze seemed to stare into what little soul I had left.

“Look upon the Pillars!” she moaned. “See the destruction that has been wrought onto the world!” She turned away from me. “Nupraptor, your madness has shattered our dreams and blinded you.”

“Shut up, spirit,” I shouted, “or I’ll send you back to Hell!”

The ghost turned back towards me. “There is nothing to fear from me, vampire,” she said. “I am merely a shadow of my former self: Ariel, Guardian of the Pillar of Balance, a member of the Circle of Nine. Still, I can provide you with the answers you seek…”

“All I seek is a cure for my curse!” I shouted.

“There is no cure for death,” said Ariel. “There is only release. If you can help restore the Pillars of Nosgoth to their former glory, you will be able to find peace at last.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Were not the pillars always like so?”

“No,” she replied. "When I was alive, I was a member of the Circle of Nine, the Protectors of Hope. Our mission was to preserve the Pillars of Nosgoth, in order to maintain order in all of Nosgoth. For countless millenia, the Circle of Nine has existed. When a Guardian finally died, after hundreds of years of extended life, a new Guardian was born; the others would then seek this child out and train him or her to be a Guardian. It was the perfect order of things.

"The problems began five hundred years ago. In order to exterminate the threat that the Circle perceived the undead to be, they created the Sarafan, a devote order of warrior monks who exterminated all forms of undead. Eventually, they tracked down and killed Janos Auldron, who was said to have been the greatest vampire to have ever existed.

"This, in turn, angered the vampire Vorador, who was rumored to be descended from Janos himself. He broke into the Circle’s stronghold and attacked them. Their defender, Malek, Guardian of Conflict, was not there at the time of the attack, and as a result, six members were killed. When Malek finally arrived, Vorador defeated him, but left him to suffer the wrath of his masters. The only other two surviving members of the Circle condemned his soul to be forever sealed inside his armor, thus making him the Circle’s permenant defender.

"While this blow was severe, the Circle continued to thrive. Many years ago, I was chosen to be the Guardian of the Pillar of Balance. When I met my fellow Guardians, I fell in love with the Guardian of the Mind, the mentalist Nupraptor. He, in turn, fell madly in love with me. Then one night, I was ambushed and murdered. My feet were sliced off, half of my face was burned away, and I suffered numerous stab wounds. When it was over, there was a horrific, bloody mess.

"Nupraptor found my body, and went mad with grief. Seeing nothing but pain and death around him, he sewed his eyes and mouth shut, leaving only his mental powers to communicate with the outside world. He then sensed that a member of the Circle had orchestrated my murder, and in a blind act of revenge, brought his insanity onto each of the other members. They soom turned their agendas away from doing good and towards acts of evil and greed.

“The Pillars represent the mental state of each Guardian. When Nupraptor committed his revenge, the Pillars instantly turned black and cracked from the corruption. They continue to decay even now. Due to the current state of the Pillars, another Guardian was never born, which leaves only one possible action.”

“You wish to have me kill Nupraptor,” I concluded. “If it will free me from this nightmare, then so be it.”

“Please, bring peace to Nosgoth,” said Ariel.

“I care nothing for Nosgoth!” I shouted. “I do this only for myself!”

“Then do it for yourself,” said Ariel. “Find and kill Nupraptor, then bring the item that binds him to the Pillar back here to restore it. You will find it by searching for something unusual on his person. He is in his Retreat to the northeast. Beware the Unspoken…” She then faded away before my eyes.

I walked away from the pillars, and thus, my quest for Nupraptor began…

(to be continued)

Okay, two things:

  1. Is this going to be allowed into the archive?

  2. I need a title.

  1. Methinks so.

  2. I am the world’s worst entitler, so I’ll skip this one ^^;;

I’d like to help you with a title, but I can’t think of an adequate one. If you feel you have to, maybe you could just give it a temporary title for now and change it later when you get a good one.

I added a title. What do you think?

Meh. A bit unoriginal, but i’m too lazy to comment propperly.

Chapter 4: The Search for Nupraptor

I continued down the long road, until I reached a strange shrine. On the front steps lay a scroll, which I promptly open. Once again, my “friend” the necromancer had left me something.

“One of a vampire’s greatest powers is the ability to shapeshift. There are four forms a vampire can assume. The first is the bat form, which when invoked will allow you to transform into a flurry of bats that can reach any place in Nosgoth with ease. However, it is best that you know the area first, lest you get lost in the middle of a swamp or rainstorm. Use it wisely. Inside this shrine lies another skill.”

I smiled as the incantation at the bottom of the paper was etched into my mind. The necromancer really HAD thought of everything. He really wished me to suceed.

I stepped inside, and saw a scroll resting on an altar. I opened the scroll, taking note of the seal on the paper. It was no doubt the necromancer’s “calling card”.

“Inscribed is a magical spell, handed down by the ancient magi through the centuries. While natural light weakens a vampire, this spell creates a halo of magical light, which allows you to see in the darkest places without any drain on your power.” I decided to call this the “Magical Light” spell.

I stepped out of the shrine, only to see a handful of knights standing outside. “There he is!” shouted one of them. “He’s the one that slaughtered Ziegsturhl!” The knights rose their swords and morning stars and charged. I drew my sword and swung at them, cleaving three of their heads off in one stroke. The only remaining knight continued his defiant charge. I smiled as I grabbed his arm and tore it clean off; he still tried to fight. That’s why I ripped out his still-beating heart before pushing him out of the way.

I continued down the road. Brigands continued to attack, but I easily made meals out of them. However, as night began to fall, rainclouds came, accompanied with thunder claps. I quickly ran into a nearby cave as the rain began to fall.

I leaned against the wall, looking at the falling rain. Before, I had admired such weather; now, with my current situation, I loathed it. Then again, I never knew how to swim, so I tended to stay out of water, but there was a difference between staying out by your own will and staying out for the sake of your existance.

Then I noticed a figure in black drop something in the cave. He had not been there when I entered. I drew my sword and charged, but the figure dissapeared before my eyes. I looked at what he had dropped, and saw another scroll, once again bearing the necromancer’s seal.

“This will allow you to assume the form of a wolf. When in this form, you will be able to move at a much greater quickness and grace, and allows you to clear large gaps that you normally could not cross.”

I smiled, then sat down and waited for the rain to stop. When it finally did, I cursed my luck; the sun was beginning to rise. I picked up my equipment and left the cave, continuing to the south.

(to be continued)

Naughty, naughty vampire, no biscuit! … EEK! OKAY, TAKE IT!

Title works fine :slight_smile: I’ll change the archives then…