Nahlot had tried his hand at a lot of things in his life: mercenary, guard, bounty hunter to name a few, yet he did think that becoming a vampire hunter would be an all more glamorous career. So far in his new venture, he had been tasked with building defences, forging and maintaining armour and weapons, and had even been sent searching for people who could do those jobs properly. So it was only now that he could get to what he does best.
That's how it came to be that he was trudging along the muddied ground in the North-West corner of Skyrim, scouring the area for a vampire enclave that had been hiding out in the mountains. Word had it that these vampires were responsible for a spate of recent murders in Haafingar, and as the Dawnguard were the only real vampire fighting unit in the northern province, they had been called upon to deal with the threat. Regardless of the fact they had just been reformed after hundreds of year's absence.
The Breton was meant for this kind of work, not that anyone could usually tell. He was built as a natural mage as were most of his kind, warriors were rare among the people of High Rock yet here walked one of the exceptions. He supposed that was one of the reasons he was pretty good at what he did, killing things. Few people expected a Breton to swing an axe like he could and he could swing an axe with the best of them, by the Nine if he was honest with himself he was pretty much expert at killing things.
Adjusting the strappings that bound his war axe to his armour, Nahlot glanced back at his companion who lagged behind though she seemed to be eager at the chance to get to grips with this vampire threat as much as he was.
Now this Nord was much more akin to a true warrior born and bred in the ice and battle, and the war hammer and heavy armour added to the effect nicely as well. He reckoned she probably had more exciting stories to tell than he could hear in a month's worth of drinking. Yet they hadn't had a chance to be shared yet, both Breton and Nord were newcomers to the Dawnguard, and this was their very first assignment for either of them.
"Your first time?" a heavily accented question carried its way to Nahlot on the breeze.
"For what?" The Breton stopped a while to walk alongside his comrade. Though slightly taller the Nord woman wasn't overly imposing, discounting the hammer, armour and war paint adorning the left hand side of her face. Yes despite all that she even seemed decent, something severely lacking in Nahlot's usual list of acquaintances.
"With vampires I mean, have you ever faced one before?" The Nord brushed some of her dirty blonde hair way under her helmet.
"Vampires? No, not that I remember." The Breton answered with a short huff, "Still, can't be all that different from slaying a normal blood-sucking freak." He laughed and received a small chuckle in return.
The Nord regained her composure and became serious all of a sudden, "When I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how dangerous they could be,"
"Really?" Came Nahlot's surprised reply, "Well your still here so they couldn't be that bad," he chuckled as they wound their way across the frozen tundra, "I can't imagine they'd be able to drop a seasoned warrior so easily."
She smiled faintly as she dropped her head, "I lost a good friend that day." Nahlot noticed her hand reach up over her collar, as if to touch an amulet.
"I'm sorry." Was all he could say in return and he cursed himself a fool. They carried on in silent thought for a while, until the Nord spoke up.
"This looks like the place." She said a hint of emotion still clung to her voice. Nahlot looked up ahead to see the remnants of a camp laid out before him, a darkened cave entrance cut into the Cliffside. Blackened ash in the centre of the camp told them it had been used recently, they were on the right trail.
Without a word to each other, the vampire hunters immediately crouched down and began to cautiously approach the camp. Taking cover behind some nearby trees, the Breton assessed the situation.
"Looks like they'll be inside there if anything," Indicating towards the cavern he turned back towards the Nord woman, "You ready for this?"
She took a long breath and closed her eyes, when she opened them again all Nahlot saw was pure hazel steel. "I'm ready, let's have it done." He believed her, and her strong hands calmly prised the war hammer. The Breton nodded in reply and drew his axe and readied his shield as they swiftly approached the cave entrance.
The darkness in the cave loomed over them, yet they pressed on through. One of the last things Nahlot would have thought of the Nord was stealthy considering her heavy gear, yet she swooped from shadow to cover with unexpected ease. The pair came across no resistance, little evidence that anyone other than wolves had ever set foot in this place. A short burst of laughter crashed that thought.
Nord and Breton froze, fully expecting to be caught in a flurry of arrows. Nothing came, except another noise, a voice from down the cavern.
Nahlot looked over to the Nord woman whose eyes we locked on the passage ahead of them. "How shall we take this then?" He whispered just so she could hear.
She looked at him blankly as though the answer was obvious. "Sneak up to them, strike them down." The Nord stated flatly.
Well that was a simple enough plan, he could do that thought Nahlot.
Smirking slightly he nodded his approval and without another word quickly crept into the passage, the Nord right on his tail. Small amounts of light were emanating from the other end. The sounds of voices instantly triggered the Bretons warrior instincts, there were at least three of them, he could tell that much at least.
As they reached the end of the channel, the hunters broke any attempts of stealth and launched themselves into the cavern with cries of war. The vampires were still for a second, four pairs of deathly glowing eyes stunned that their home had been invaded. Then all was hostile and they rushed to drive back their attackers.
With a cry of fury Nahlot threw himself into the fray, shield bashing the blade of a vampire away from his chest as he landed a hit with his axe. Across the room he could just see the Nord setting herself against a pair of vampires, and winning by the sounds of her jeers and their moans.
Nahlot's foe snarled in rage and resorted to his bladed gauntlet's as he tried to rip the Breton's face to shreds. Grunting with effort, Nahlot used his shield to heave the vampire away from him. Before the beast could regain its feet, the vampire hunter had reached him and slashed his blade across the throat of his prey.
A sudden shove to the side took Nahlot to the floor and he felt dazed as his head met a rock. The vampire slashed at his face with a dagger, the sting made Nahlot hiss as he raised himself to repel another attack. This one aptly dodged under the swing of his axe and tackled him back to the ground.
Before he could even think about getting up again, Nahlot cried out at the searing pain in his neck. The vampire had claimed him. Feeling his strength waning, he barely registered a shout of shock. Vision already fading, he caught the blurred outline of the vampire recoil back as another shape came to his rescue.
His senses threatening to leave him, Nahlot tried to stumble to feet but only managed to trip and fall over. The clashes of the battle happening just a few feet away from him sounded like another world. He felt around desperately for some leverage, his axe lying uselessly on the floor away from him. A muffled scream immediately followed, then no more and the Breton was left in darkness.
Some unknown hands grasped him and forced him into a sitting position. He put all his effort into a punch, a last attempt to drive back the vampire, but it was caught easily. "Easy …" that accented voice cut through the blur and the adrenaline, "you'll live." Blinking a few times brought back some of his vision, and Nahlot could just make out a figure in front of him.
The Nord who was with him for the attack, she was looking him over for injuries. He could see her expression turn from concern to amusement. "Didn't you say something about how easy they were to kill?" Her tone was teasing, not malicious.
"Yeah, well we all have off days." Nahlot moaned as he tried to sit up, a sharp shock of pin rang out from his neck and he remembered the bite. The Nord woman instantly saw his pain and looked to his neck.
"A bite eh, been getting too close to these beasts?" Her amusement refusing to abate, much to Nahlot's annoyance.
"Very funny," the Breton replied dryly, "You don't have a potion or anything do you?" His senses return along with a spate of worry of his current predicament, left untreated he'd likely become the very thing he was hired to kill. The Nord didn't seem to be overly concerned though.
"Relax," She put a comforting gauntlet on his shoulder, "we can get one from Solitude, it's not too far from here. We'll need to clean the wound to avoid infection though." She eyed the wound as a minor inconvenience, it felt like a bloody big one to Nahlot.
"Here," She forcibly pushed him across the cavern to a small basin conveniently located there, and almost wrenched his helmet off him, "tilt your head to the side." Then she did that for him.
"What are you doing?" His head was still a bit of a blur, so he wasn't expecting her head to suddenly dive in and her lips to meet his neck. It took him a good few moments to realise she was sucking the poison out of the wound. As soon as it started it had ended, and she spat the vile remnants on the floor and rinsed her mouth out.
"There," she stated simply as she began applying a dressing to the wound, "you'll feel a little groggy for a while, just until the poultice gets to work."
"Uh … thanks." Nahlot was still in a bit of a haze, though the pain was already easing in his neck.
She chuckled a little as she none too lightly thrust his helmet back on his head, covering his eyes. "I'd be a pretty poor leader if let you die on my watch."
That brought Nahlot out of his stupor, "Wait, who made you the leader?" His expression was one of great scandal.
"Well," The woman looked back their recent battle, four corpses and pools of dark blood littered the cavern, "three kills to one I'd say." Her smirk growing at the fact he was clearly annoyed with her claim to leadership. She removed her gauntlet and offered her hand as an olive branch, "Mjoll, Mjoll the Lioness if you like titles."
Nahlot took Mjoll's hand which was surprisingly soft for a hammer wielding warrior, "Nahlot … I've no title really." He replied sheepishly.
"Oh," she thought for a moment as he gently got up to stand, "then Nahlot the Nibbled perhaps? I'm sure the bards would love to tell your tales." She chuckled as she helped support him as they walked towards the exit.
"Nice," Sarcasm dripping off his tongue, "and I was hoping to be remembered for slaying a dragon or stopping an ancient evil." He hissed slightly as he struggled to walk under his own will.
"Good luck finding either of those, though if you do be sure to bring me along for the ride, you never know if there's an amorous vampire about." Mjoll teased as he made a half-hearted swing at her with his axe.
They came out of the cavern to be greeted with a cascade of blue and green ribbons dancing across the skies. "Nice night for it." Nahlot murmured as they made their way back towards the capital.
Mjoll sighed slightly in response. "Come on then," She smiled, removing her support as he regained the full use of his body, "we'll get your potion then it's straight to the inn, I'm buying."
"Oh?" Nahlot perked up, he could just go for a Honningbrew right about now, "I'm beginning to like this partnership."