There is a passion of many things in life. Some passions are a borderline "want" where we simply miss something and want it again. Some are what we feel is a "need" where we think we must have it, that there is no other substitute and without it we would hunger til we die. Bloodlust is great than both these things. They say that love is blind and yes it can be and most times it is, unless you are simply some superficial whore, (man or woman), who only sees what is on the outside. Bloodlust is more. A slave will have fire in her belly, a burning hunger, a yearning to please, to be used, to be found desireable, wanted and pleasing. Bloodlust is more.
Imagine if you will an innocent happening, a small scuffle, to become victorious in such is easy enough. You are tested again with another fight and yet again you spercede others to become victorious once again. You know no defeat, and your pride consumes you. You feel undefeatable. And here you are, another battle, you fight and you fight, but you do not see an end. You become tired, your body fights for energy, your lungs fight for air, your senses become overfilled with the stench of death, blood and sounds of the dying. You yourself may join them soon enough. On the brink of death, you have one foot crossing to the light when something urges you, drives you, presses you, commands you to fight on. Something so profound that you do not know its origins, something bestial within, something...primal.
Man was once wild and primal and it was only instincts that drove him. The echoes of hunger drove man to hunt, to kill to want to eat and feed. That wildness helps to consume him, to drive him to bring him back from the edge of darkness. To push him and fill him with such a challenge as to enrage him. "How dare they try and kill me!" Adrenaline has been far wasted long ago. It is beyond that "rush". It is that all consuming, burning lust for blood is the driving force. He becomes blinded by it, lusting for more like a hungered vampire. He sees no friend or foe, just a need to put down as many shapes as are around him. He cannot breath save for blood. He cannot see save for blood. He cannot hear save for the last beats of a heart that bleeds. He cannot feel save the slick warmth of sprays of blood. He has become the most basic of beasts, a killing machine that is driven by one thing...his lust for blood.
Bloodlust itself is dangerous for not only the one enduring it, but for those around him. It is not a place everyone would like to go. It is scary and yet comforting, even the worse addictions cannot measure up to it. There is no reasoning with one in such a state, no logic to their methods or thinking, no rules to guide them. Most times it would have to run its course or restrained by many. Bloodlust is the most destructive force a man can have from within himself. Like opening Pandora's box.
And even with all this...
Bloodlust is more.
Raz
