Almost like a predator, the Nord could nearly smell the scent of Vampires. The cold blasts of air didn't affect him, as his Nordic blood protected him. His Ancient Nordic armor helped with that, as did the Helm of Yngol.
A cry of battle, and a woman flung herself at him. Impossible strength for a Breton woman her size grabbed at his wrists, but his own strength matched her. He catches her wrists, and throws her across the clearing, giving him time to prepare.
A steel battle axe was unsheathed, and held aloft in one hairy, scarred hand. His breath clouded in the air, as the two silently began to size one another up. She moved first, quickly utilizing a spell that only Vampires used. He was wary, and circled her.
As she extended her right arm, he slammed his axe downwards, catching her at the middle of her hand. The half that was caught was immediately torn off, and the rest was a mangled, bloody distraction. A cry of outrage followed by a punch to his chest occurred, and he was surprised to see that the punch merely dented his armor. He hasn't budged.
"What are you?" She asked, and he swung his axe with every ounce of strength in his body. It hit her in the side, and nearly cleaved her in two.
"The end of you." He said, his voice was the only sound to be heard in the area. He tugged at the axe with a wet rip, and grabbed her body. Ripping a piece of cloth off of it, he cleaned the two sides of it. His hands grab at the axe, and he sheathed it onto his back.
He was becoming frightened by this sudden outburst of Vampiric activity. As Skyrim's protector, and as the leader of the Companions, he was expected to lead the men and women of the Companions into battle. He had been too busy killing whatever Vampire made themselves known to do so, however.
The walk back to Windhelm was among one of the easiest. Just as he believed so, a bandit leapt out of the snowberry bush. Quickly unsheathing his axe, he deflected the man's sword with the pole of his axe, and slammed the butt of the pole against the man's knee. Upon the man's fall, he slammed the heel of his grieves against the man's face. A crunch signified the breaking of the bandit's nose. The Nord reached down, and lifted the Imperial off of his feet, easily.
"Why do you live a life of crime? Even if you get the money, where can you use it?" This was one of his biggest issues. Despite looking the part of being some barbarian, he made the effort to understand as much as he can. That was a significant amount of things.
The sudden feeling of wetness on his cheek caused him to sigh. A large hand slammed into the man's face, knocking him out. The Dragonborn grabbed the man's collar, and began to drag him to Windhelm.
Around a half hour later, he finally pushed the doors to the Hall of Kings open, and threw the man in front of Ulfric Stormcloak, his best friend.
"Ah, Dragonborn. I see you have brought me what looks like a broken bandit. Is it you I have to thank for this piece of filth?" He asked casually, and the Dragonborn bowed his head.
"Guards, take him to the dungeon." The guards immediately grabbed the struggling Imperial. His strength was no match for the Nords, though.
"I'm worried of the amount of Vampiric activity around the province, My Lord." The Dragonborn spoke, and Ulfric looked as if he wanted to laugh.
"I am not your lord, my friend. You are the most powerful man in the province. You could easily dismantle me." Ulfric said, and casually threw a hand up.
"I have fought tooth and nail for you to get to where you are, Ulfric. I would never turn on that, or you. You are one of my best friends." Ulfric's smile became warm, and nodded.
"Agreed, Stormblade. Your very name made the sons and daughters of Skyrim fill with hope, and filled any Imperial bastard with dread. Your very name could have won battles." Ulfric said. Memories of him slaughtering Imperials filled his mind, and he shook his head. They had won the civil war, but at what cost?
"You are conflicted. Come, let us go somewhere more private." Ulfric stood, and the Dragonborn followed. They made their way to his quarters, where he sat in a comfortable chair.
"I am worried, Ulfric. My purpose is no more. I have vanquished Alduin, and I have united Skyrim as one. There is no more for me to do. Why do I continue living?" His proud and strong shoulders seemed to sag, and the usual cheery silver eyes seemed to dim.
"When the time is right, you will be needed, Dragonborn. Skyrim is not the only lands of Nirn, as you know. Maybe your fate lies in the other parts of Tamriel." He suggested. The Dragonborn looked up, and the strength of his eyes quickly returned.
"I have heard the guards chattering. Some sort of Vampire hunter group. They call it the Dawnguard. Have you heard of it?" The man stroked the hair on his chin, before finally remembering.
"I have. A fort off of the side of Riften. It used to belong to the Jarl, and that's where he started the Dawnguard. At one point, Skyrim was extremely dangerous to travel. The Vampires were brave. Foolish, but brave." He concluded. Stormblade stood, and he shook the man's hand.
"It is always a pleasure, friend. Farewell." Ulfric said, and crawled into bed. Stormblade quickly walked out of the castle, and into the Skyrim atmosphere. Easily walking by the guards, they all stopped him.
"Gilmar, Helda, how are you? Alvar, it's been a long time. I'll have to buy you a mug, sometime!" It continued until he had finally left the city. He didn't mind it at all, truthfully. The Stormcloaks were a brotherly/sisterly group. They were all kin to one another.
The hike to Riften was done in the usual fashion. Constant vigilance paired with a taste of paranoia kept him from being eaten alive by a frostbite spider. He hated the damn things, and wished they would die out.
As he walked by a Dwarven ruin, he quickly marked his map as to where he would have to return. He loved the Dwemer, and the mystery behind them. It was extremely fascinating to him how quickly they had vanished, and the fact that what they had left behind made any race seem as if they were imbeciles. He shook his head, and he continued forward.
His thoughts drifted to the fact that he was going this far due to his lycanthropy. People were not aware of this fact, and he was quite happy about that. His mastery over the beastly transformations had come to the point that his beast form was more powerful than any other in the lands. Fitting of the Dragonborn.
He began to clean his fingernails with the small dagger he kept in his satchel. The dirt and grime underneath quite honestly disappointed him, and he promised he would take a bath when he returned. Lakewood was a perfect spot for a bath.
Within the night he was there, and the music of the heavens played to him. The auroras were full-strength, tonight, and he found himself in awe. Even if he had grown here, he found himself still in awe as to how beautiful his homeland truly was. Skyrim never ceased to amaze him.
He entered the city, and stared at the guard that had attempted to haggle him when he first arrived. The man knew better now, especially since he had saved the entire city from a Legendary Dragon.
He quickly walked up to his only friend in the city, Mjoll the Lioness. Her strong but beautiful face stared into his.
"Mjoll, how goes it?" Her blue eyes light up, and she hugs him tightly. A slender but strong arm snakes around the back of his neck, and pulls him in tightly.
"You gave me a scare, Dragonborn. When I heard you went to Sovngarde I thought they meant you had fallen in battle. I got drunk, and I prayed to the Gods that you had been granted the honor. You of all people deserve it." She said, and laid a hand on his shoulder. It was no secret to him that she harbors feelings for him, but he was just not ready to be a husband, or a father. He had too many responsibilities.
"Thank you, my friend. I need your help. I have heard that they are reopening a fort nearby. Do you know anything about it?" His silver eyes blink, and she thinks for a second. It was not apparently known by her, and he felt himself becoming aggravated. He figured with her ties to the guards she would be able to tell. He bid her farewell, and began walking to the center of town. A fresh apple would do him good.
"I hear they're reforming the Dawnguard. Vampires hunters or something, in the fort near Dayspring Canyon." He heard a passing guard say to whomever he walked with. His eyes widen, and he nodded. It was about damn time. That apple could wait. He turned to walk away.
"Screw that." He turned back and bought the apple.
As he munched on his apple, his walk was slow. It was at night that he truly took his time to bask in the beauty of his homeland. Skyrim was beautiful during the day, but it was the aurorae that made it truly special. His view of Nirn's two moons was priceless. Too bad he couldn't draw if his life depended on it. His hands were too heavy for such detail, and he knew this. Trying would be fruitless.
He finally saw the beginning of the canyon. He shrugged through the small cave, and grumbled as he was forced to bend over. He continued cursing under his breath until he was finally on the other side. The land here was beautiful, as well. He took a deep breath of the clean air and sighed in content. Easily walking forward, he moved past rabbits, and the occasional elk.
A blond boy of maybe seventeen stood there. He was well-built, but he was no warrior. A handsome face stood out, but his slouched shoulders took away any attention that may have been paid to his features. Sky blue eyes met his own silver ones, and he could see the man blanch. The Helm of Yngol must have intimidated him, and Stormblade didn't blame him. Most men shook in their boots when they took in the sight of his form.
"Oh, hey there! Are you here to join the Dawnguard, too? Truth is, I'm a little nervous. I've never done anything like this, before. I hope you don't mind if I walk up with you." Stormblade laughed a hearty laugh, and clutched at his stomach.
"It is no trouble, lad! Company is always welcome." Stormblade himself was more than likely to not be much older than this man. Being twenty-eight, he was young. He, however, had seen more than anyone his age. It was both sobering and enlightening.
"Hey, uh, don't tell Isran I was afraid to meet him by myself? It wouldn't be the best introduction for a Vampire hunter." Stormblade laughed again, as the two walked together. Stormblade was more filled out, and a couple inches taller. He was large by Nord standards, nearly the height of an Altmer. Nearly. He hated that he had missed it by an inch or two. Despite that, he was taller than most other men he has come across, and his strength has been matched by few. By name, the only men that have gotten close to-and matched in the former's case-were Chief Burguk of the Dushnikh Tribe, and Farkas of the Companions.
"Do not worry, whelp. You are fine with me." The two walked up the pathway to the massive fort. The sight of which unnerved the smaller Nord, and impressed the larger. Stormblade quickly bumped into an Orc whilst staring at the fort. He made a cry of surprise, and the Dragonborn quickly stepped back, ready for whatever may follow.
"Be careful next time!" The Orc shouted. His dark hair was shaved on the sides and back, and was placed in a small ponytail. The man's tusks were large, and he had the usual yellow eyes of the Orsimer. He squinted his eyes, and Stormblade could see the intelligence behind them. This was not your typical Orc, that was certain.
"You there. The Dawnguard is looking for anyone willing to combat the growing Vampire menace. What say you?" His baritone voice echoed around the clearing, and Stormblade rubbed a hand against his chin.
"I was already aware of what was going on. The sudden increase of Vampiric activity in Skyrim has been an unsettling development. That is why I have come here." The Orc nodded, and began walking towards a tree stump.
"You'll want one of these, then." He handed the crossbow to the clearly confused Nord. Stormblade has never seen a weapon of this sort, and it was clear. Polished wood was topped with a carved metal arc. A trigger of some sort sat at the bottom, and fit his finger in there nicely.
"You've never seen a crossbow before, eh? These are the best blood sucker killing weapon you'll find, guaranteed." He was extremely excited about the weapon, and it was clear. However, Stormblade was not much of an archer. His aim was horrible, and his dislike of bows led him to complete disregard over this weapon. He handed the weapon back to the Orc.
"I'm not much of an archer. Thank you anyways, though. Come, whelp. Let us talk to this Isran, shall we?" The Orc gave them a parting word, and the two were off. They rounded a small hill, and came upon an Imperial man standing at the top. He wore the same buckled armor the Orc wore.
"New recruits. Hmmm. Isran will decide what to make of you. Go ahead in, he's right inside." The man said. He crossed his arms, and Stormblade decided he was unimpressed with the showing.
"I'll tell you, the only thing more surprising than hearing from Isran was hearing that he needed help. I realized things must have been bad, apparently I was right." Stormblade nodded and agreed.
"You knew Isran before this mess? I assume you two worked together?" The Imperial nodded, and sighed.
"I did. There was a time, years ago, when we were both Vigilants of Stendarr. We were both equally dissatisfied with the group. Of course, their hearts were in the right place, but Isran and I were never comfortable there. We left together, but our partnership did not last long. I found his methods...Questionable." He left the last bit there, and the Dragonborn didn't know what he should think about it. Questionable methods were something to be aware of, but in the topic of Vampires, was it necessary. It was a sticky situation, for sure.
Easily pushing through the front doors, his boots echoing against the fairly empty chamber. Sunlight poured through the roof, and into the center of the room. The young Nord stood behind him, and he took all of the attention. Two men stood in the middle of the room.
"Why are you here, Tolan? The Vigilants and I were done with each other years ago." A Redguard man stood in the middle of the room. He was strongly built, and was bald. Startlingly blue eyes made themselves known to Stormblade, who was rather put off by them. Typically, blue eyes were mostly common amongst Nords, then Imperials. It was incredibly rare to see them on a Redguard of all people.
"You know why I am here, Isran. The Vigilants are under attack everywhere. The Vampires are much more dangerous than we previously believed." The man seemed to plead for help.
"Now you're running to safety with the Dawnguard, is that it? I remember Keeper Carcette telling me that Fort Dawnguard is a crumbling ruin, not worth the coin or the men needed to repair it. Now that you've stirred the Vampires against you, you'd like to come to beg for my protection?" The harshness in his voice bewildered the Dragnborn. Stormblade frowned, as he stared at the Redguard. This man was not someone who made good first impression, that was for damn sure.
"Isran, Carcette is dead. The Hall of the Vigilants...Everyone...They're all dead. You were right. We were wrong. Is that not good enough for you?" The broken anger at the end startled the Redguard back into composure, and reality. He sobered, and looked down at his feet.
"Yes, well...I never wanted any of this to happen. I tried to warn all of you. I am sorry, you know." He pushed by the Vigilant of Stendarr, and approached the greater of the two potential threats. Walking up to Stormblade, he noted the apparent strength of the Nord.
"Who are you? What do you want?" His eyes begin to tighten, as if looking for a slip up.
"I am Stormblade, General of the Stormcloak army, Harbinger of the Companions, and the Dragonborn of Legend." The proclamation surprised the Vigilant and the young Nord, but the seasoned Redguard didn't budge an inch.
"Why would the mighty Dragonborn come to us lowly Vampire hunters? To what do I owe this honor?" His sarcasm made the Nord angry, and it was apparent.
"If you have something to say to me, Redguard, I suggest saying it." A thick finger slammed into the man's chest, and he stumbled. Isran glared at the Nord, and wiped off the spot of his armor.
"You Nords and your lack of self-control." Stormblade grit his teeth with that, and shook his head.
"I heard you were looking for Vampire hunters. I came because I was worried for Skyrim, and I have noticed their activity." He said, and the man thought for a second.
"You heard right. It's good that word is beginning to go around, but that means the Vampires will begin to know as well."
"What do you need me to do?" Isran already knew the Nord was very capable. His track record showed that he very rarely screwed up, and he always fixed said screw-ups, somehow.
"I need someone in the field taking the fight to the damn Vampires. At least while we're repairing the fort. Tolan was telling me about a cave the Vigilants were looking into, they believed there was a connection between it and the recent Vampire attacks. Tolan, tell him about...What was it? Dimhollow?" Isran turned to the man, and the Nord stepped forward.
"Yes, that's it. Dimhollow Crypt. Brother Adalvald believed that it had some sort of ancient Vampire relic. We didn't listen to him any more than we did Isran. He was at the Hall, when it was attacked." The man said, and hung his head, dejectedly. Stormblade felt for the Nord.
"That's good enough for me. Go see what these Vampires want in Dimhollow Crypt. With any luck, they'll still be there." Isran said, growling at the end. Stormblade merely nodded.
"I'll meet you at Dimhollow. It's the least I can do for my fallen brothers." The Vigilant of Stendarr said. Stormblade's eyes immediately became flat, and unentertained.
"Absolutely not. You will only get yourself killed." Stormblade said, and Isran nodded.
"I agree, the Vigilants were never trained for…"
"I know what you think of us. You think we're soft, and we're weak. You think we're cowards, and that our death proved our weakness. Stendarr grant that you do not have to face the same test, and be found wanting. I'm going. Perhaps I can assist you." He added. The Nord shook his head.
"You would only slow me down, Vigilant. Live, friend. Restart the Vigilants. I shall kill them in your friends' names." Tolan looked torn. He had wanted to go, but he knew that the Dragonborn was right.
"I'm on my way there, now. I shall be back when my job is done. Until then, Isran. Good luck, whelp." He left the fort laughing over Isran's comments on the farm boy.
It had taken three days to reach the Crypt, and he was excited to be back in nature. Being pent up in cities for too long made him feel coddled, and weak. He made his way through the entrance, and quickly began moving forward. He stopped when his sensitive hearing began picking up voices.
"These Vigilants never know when to give up! I thought we'd taught them their lesson at their precious Hall." An accented voice called throughout the cave.
"To come here alone...A fool, just like the rest of them." A disgusted female voice responded. Stormblade walked forward, wondering who they were talking about.
"He fought well, though. Jeron and Bresoth were no match for him." The male said back to the female.
"Ha! Those two got what they deserved. Their arrogance had become insufferable." She said back, clear satisfaction laced in her voice. Deciding enough was enough, Stormblade ripped into the cave. A black hound of some demonic sort launched at him, and nearly bit him. He slammed his axe down on its skull, and the hound died in a howl. He heard the chatter stop, and he turned to see two Vampires.
"Look what we have here. A lone Nord. I wonder what he'll taste like." A Breton and Dark Elf made themselves known, and he chuckled.
"You won't be finding out anytime soon." They launched into combat. He deflected a dagger with the flat part of his blade, and sent the man off balance. He turned just in time to be weakened by a red spell. He grunted through the pain, and slammed the end of his pole in her nose, enjoying the crunching sound. His eyes widen as a dagger found a chink in his armor. He growled into the air, the sound echoing.
He ripped the dagger out, and shoved it straight under the jaw. The dagger pushed out of his skull. He lifted the body, and threw him at the Breton female. As she laid on the ground, he lifted the axe high above his head, and slammed the blade down on her face. It lodged into her skull, and blood sprayed his face.
He walked up to Vigilant Tolan's body, and his anger subsided. He knelt beside the man, and laid a hand on the man's face, and closed his eyes. He would have to be buried like a Nord, and not left there like an object.
Lifting him from his spot, he laid him down gently on the snow, and turned. He walked through the now open gate, and continued moving forward. He took a right into a narrow corridor, and smelled the sickly scent of Vampires and death in the air. The scent led him to the right, and a Vampire held her hands up. A red light blasted at him again, and he felt himself weaken. He growled, and spun, trying to gain momentum. The axe swung through the air, and he hit her in her neck. One of the steel blades slammed into the neck of the Vampire, and she coughed blood. He ripped the axe out, and her life ended on the ground. The frostbite spider she had attempted to resurrect also died.
"Who's there?" He heard being called. Another black hound leapt at him through the doorway. Stormblade caught the dog by the collar, and slammed its skull off of the ground. He threw the beastly dog at the Vampire it accompanied and charged them both. He swung the axe, causing the Vampire to back up. She danced around his blade, while readying her spell. He looked at the ground, and found a small urn he could throw at her. Quickly, he threw the pottery off of her face. While she was distracted, he hit her in the stomach with the pole, and slammed his axe into her rib cage. She cried out in pain, and the Imperial Vampire was no more.
Easily skirting by her, he continued down the hallway. He stopped at the sight of a Draugr Deathlord.
"Talos curse me." He said to himself. The Draugr spotted him, and pointed. The undead smelled like...Well, death. The glowing blue eyes of the undead never sat well with Stormblade, as long as he could remember. The Draugr ran forward, and they clashed their blades together. Due to no openings becoming available, Stormblade smashed a fist into its face, staggering it. He slammed his axe into the undead's knee, lopping the leg off at that joint. The creature hopped on a single leg, before the Dragonborn kicked it in the chest, sending it against the stone wall. The wall cracked and split where it landed.
He watched as the intelligent, evil eyes of the Deathlord died out. The blue light of ancient curses quickly faded. Hopefully the soul of the Nord was redeemed. Thousands of years of undeath was a punishment that would change the soul of any mortal man, even if they could not control what they were doing in their undeath.
He pushed on, quickly coming into a small opening. Water pooled in the center of the room, and there was a woman sitting on the rocks across from him. By the stature, she looked to be Breton. He was growing tired of seeing these-once-people becoming these creatures. He had no issues with Vampirism, it was the actions that the monsters-those that took pleasure in being murderers-that he had issues with. As he walked across the water, he felt a hand grab his exposed knee. He looked down, and saw the glowing blue eyes of a skeleton. The bones creaked, and their jaws rattled. He looked over, and saw multiple holding his legs. He quickly ripped one leg away, and grit his teeth as their bone dug into his flesh. It healed quickly, but it still hurt.
He smashed a heavy boot down on one of their skulls, crushing it underneath his boot. The Breton Vampire quickly stood, and she got her magic ready to fight him. This was a sticky situation, and he had to be careful on this one. Looking around himself, he saw where the skeletons were, and how much time he had. Lifting his axe above his head, he set it back, and threw it as hard as he could. The axe spun through the air, and slammed into the Breton, sending her flying into the wall. The rock wall easily caught the axe, and she was left impaled on the wall.
He quickly took out the two axes that were sheathed in his hips. While not being nearly as dangerous with one-handed weapons, he still was formidable with them. He easily caught the blade of one, and broke another skeleton apart with another. On the last, he hit the leg with one, and came down with another. Standing, he took a deep sigh. While Lycanthropy may have blessed him with extra stamina, going three days straight of hiking had taken a toll on him. He sat on the floor, and took a deep breath. Reaching for his satchel, he took out a still fresh piece of mammoth steak, and a potato.
When he had finished his meal, he stood. He continued to walk up to his axe, and saw the struggling Vampire. While she was strong enough to free herself as a Vampire, she didn't have the reach to do so. He stood in front of her, and decided some answers were well-deserved.
"Your kin attacked the Hall of Vigilants. Why? What did you have to gain from this?" He asked, and looked into her orange eyes. She laughed, the mad cackling making him feel hopeless for the interview.
"You really think I'd tell you?" She didn't expect him to pull a dagger from her skeleton friends, and held it against her throat. "What now? You're going to stab me?" He quickly sliced her in the face, and grabbed salt. While it was not one of their weaknesses, he hoped she would still feel it. He threw the salt in the wound, and waited for her to react. She didn't.
He pulled the axe from the wall, and grabbed her by the throat. He slammed her down with one arm, and kept her there using his Lythocampric strength. He took out an axe from his hip satchel, and held it above her head. She laughed all the while. It was when her head rolled down the small hill that her laughing ended. He stood, and sighed. He didn't want to do that. Grabbing his axe by the pole, he lifted it out of the dirt. He continued walking with it in his right hand, and moved through the doorway.
Moving through, he found himself in another catacomb. The scent of Draugr, Vampires, and those hounds polluted the already musty air. Cringing as he entered the catacomb, he was faced with what he smelled. Except, they all turned to him. Seriously?
He sidestepped a downward swing from the great sword of the Draugr only to nearly step into a dagger of the Vampire. He narrowly avoided another stab by the Deathlord, and had to think quickly.
"Wuld Nah Kest!" He felt himself being thrown down the hallway, and turned to see the Vampire and Draugr both being confused. The hound leapt at him, and caught his armored wrist. He slammed the head of the dog against the wall, chipping the stone. He threw the Dog on the floor, and stepped on its neck.
The Deathlord came first, and held him closely, as they both fought for dominance. The undead Nord pressed on, relentless in its attack. It's inability to feel pain leaving it with an advantage. He felt a sword stab him in the side of the throat, and fell to a knee. He roared into the sky, as his bones popped and cracked. A solid fist send the Vampire tumbling down the hallway, and the Draugr swung his greatsword. A clawed hand caught the blade.
Towering over the Draugr, the Werewolf unleashed a roar that could have deafened any normal man. He snaps the blade in his paws, and backhanded the Draugr. It crashed against the wall, where it went flying through. The Werewolf bolted down the hallway, and slammed into the retreating Vampire. Easily, it tore into the undead flesh of the Vampire. Blood sprayed everywhere as the impossibly strong teeth of the Wolf ripped a chunk out of her shoulder. She cried in pain and shock as she began to bleed. She tried to drain his health, but he caught her arm. He lifted her from her arm, and crunched his jaws over her head.
Spitting brain matter out of his now untransformed mouth was certainly an interesting experience, that was for sure. He wiped the blood from his mouth, and washed it out with the nearest clean water that he found. He pushed on his feet, and realized that he had forgotten the Ring of Hircine at home. It was fine, he was ready for any unexpected attacks.
He quickly found there was another gate. Another Vampire made quick work of an enormous Frostbite spider. Stormblade easily pushed the lever, and prepared himself for a difficult fight. The spider rose in a purple light, and he couldn't help but shudder in disgust. Necromancy disgusted him to no ends. As the spider lunged, the Vampire threw a bolt of lightning. Stormblade rolled out of the way, and made it so he could easily lunge to his feet. He danced around the spider, making certain that the Vampire was behind it at all times. When the spider lunged again, he caught its legs, and threw it back at the Vampire, successfully taking them both off guard.
He quickly dispatched of the surprised spider, and it dissolved into ash. The look seemed to be one of grudging gratefulness. The two quickly circled one another. The Breton man smiled cruelly, and savagely. His sharp teeth put on display for the Lycanthrope.
"So, a lone Nord has cut down every single Vampire thrown his way. I can't help but be impressed. You haven't faced one of my caliber, though." The Vampire's voice was soft, and melodious as they circled one another. The Vampire's voice made him feel sleepy, as if the fighting he had done finally caught up to him. His arms began to feel heavy, and his eyes heavier. It was as if the stamina the Wolf gave him was totally nullified. He tried to fight it off, but he felt himself begin to crouch on the ground. He couldn't control his fatigue.
He fell to a knee, and slouched forward. He heard the soft laugh of the Vampire, and felt himself becoming even more weak during it. His eyes finally closed to end the burning, and he felt himself begin to cloud. He heard the steps towards him, and felt the Wolf fighting the magic.
"WAKE UP!" His eyes snapped open, and he moved fast enough to catch the Vampire off guard. Laying an uppercut to the jaw of the Vampire, the Breton's tongue flew out of his mouth. He screamed in pain as blood flew from his mouth. Stormblade ran towards the Vampire full speed, and ran him through with the end of his axe. He lifted it above his head, and stood with the body above him. The Vampire laughed, and pushed off of the blade. He went flying off of it, and backflipped in the air. He landed on the ground, and the two clashed again. Their battle for dominance lasted seconds, as the massive Nord threw him across the room. The Breton dodged the swipes of Stormblade, and attempted to hit him. A stab of his own, and a blade was run through his stomach.
A large roar was heard around the room, and the Nord slammed his axe down on the dagger. It broke in the back, and he ripped out the front. He felt his insides and skin healing, and spun towards the Vampire. They continued to circle one another, testing one another. The two quickly met in the middle, and began parrying and countering one another's blows. Stormblade slammed the dagger he held out of the Breton's hand. When he prepared a downwards blow, the Vampire unleashed a barrage of lightning. Stormblade grunted, and yelled through the pain. He took a strong step forward, and fought through the lightning. The Vampire's eyes widened, and Stormblade finally stood above him. His armor was smoking, and his skin was singed. The Nord's broad shoulders rose and fell in rhythm, and he stood over the Vampire. His nostrils flared, and he grabbed the man from his arms. He lifted him above his head, and slammed him down on the ground. He roared as he swung his axe down on the man. It tore into his stomach, and he ripped it to the side, effectively gutting him.
He turned from the sight of the man's torn stomach, and trudged forward. His skin stung as he healed, as it was sore, and sensitive. He shifted uncomfortably in his armor, and took a deep breath. He opened the old wooden door, and entered the cavern.
"I believe you, Vigilant. I don't think you even know what you've found here." A Vampire said. "So, go and meet your precious Stendarr." The snapping of a neck was heard, and the unease of another Vampire could be smelled from even where he stood.
"Was that truly a wise idea, Lokil? Maybe he could have been some use of us." The other Vampire said. From what he could smell, there were two Vampires, and the scent of an Orc. However, it was strange. While the Orc smelled relatively normal, there was something odd about it. It was as if it had something added to it.
"He knew nothing. He outlived his usefulness when he brought us to this place. Now we are able to give Harkon the prize. We will not return without it. Vingalmo and Orthjolf will make way for me." Lokil said, and Stormblade could sense the arrogance from the spot where he stood. A thick eyebrow raised at the man's self-absorption.
"Don't forget the one who brought you the news of the Viglants' discovery, Lokil." The second Vampire said.
"I never forget who my friends are, nor who my enemies are." He said, a stubborn determination could be heard in his voice. If he were not the enemy, Stormblade could have respected that sentiment.
He looked over the sides of the walkway, and a bolt of lightning nearly hit him square in the face. Using his speed, he quickly sent himself flying the opposite way, back into the room. He waited at the top of the stairs, and fixed his helm. He waited for them, and braced himself. At the sight of the first Vampire, he struck with full strength. However, he saw the second raising their hands, getting ready to shoot a bolt of lightning. He slammed a foot into the knee of the first, and grabbed him. The bolt of lightning hit the Vampire in the back, and-using the iron helmet he wore-smashed his forehead against the nose of the first. He threw him over the side, and listened as he landed on the stone floor below. He quickly leapt off of the stairs, slamming his shoulder into the second Vampire.
As the Vampire rose, the Nord quickly used his axe to sweep his feet from him. The Vampire quickly leapt over the pole of the axe, and threw a dagger at Stormblade. Using the blade's momentum, he caught it at the hilt, spun, and threw it with all of his strength. The blade went straight through the right shoulder, where the Vampire wielded his draining spell. His right arm quickly hung limp, and the Dragonborn stabbed straight with his axe. The steel spike went straight through the Vampire's flesh, and as he pulled back, he slammed the blade of the axe into the man's left ribcage. His cry of pain faded as his life slipped away then and there. Stormblade turned to see the other had started towards the staircase. He held his axe in a hand, and rushed the smaller figure. Dodging a bolt of lightning, he quickly leapt in the air, and brought his axe down with him. Even if he didn't hit him where it intended to, he had the upper hand.
As the Vampire became more pressed, it made more mistakes. A strong slam against the thigh bone of the Vampire sent it to the ground, and crying out in pain. The bone was shattered.
His life was ended as the blade at the top of the axe was shoved through his throat. The Vampire gargled as he died, before finally resting. Stormblade ripped the axe with a wet tearing sound. He walked forward before being surprised by an Orc. The warhammer he carried was made of iron. Grabbing his axe, he sidestepped a power attack. When the hammer stuck in the dirt, he slammed the Orc's jaw with his pole, snapping it immediately. The Orc stood despite this, but he could see the pain in the eyes of the Orc. Despite ripping his hammer back out of the ground, and marching around the place, angrily, it seemed as if his eyes and face told a different story.
"Kill me," He heard the Orc whisper, and a tear of pain and anguish fall down his face. The Nord screamed a battle cry, and lunged forward. The sudden surprising strength behind the attack left the Orc unable to defend properly. A stab to the thigh dropped him, where he sliced the Orc's throat with the blade. The body crashed onto the stone floor, and his blood pooled around his head.
He moved into the middle of the cavern, where a strange stone construction was found. An altar sat in the middle. His nose caught the smell of blood in the air, as he made his way towards said altar. When he rested his hand, he cried out in shock as his hand was pierced by a small blade. He looked at his hand, and saw that it had already begun knitting itself. He looked around, and noticed a purple flame had ignited in one of the chalices.
After matching all of the chalices to their correct spots, the floor began to shake, and move. After separating for a couple seconds, it began to lower into stairs. He stares at the stone compartment as the front began to move. As it lifted, a Vampire of seemingly nobility fell out of the stone. She caught herself before she smacked her skull, and coughed. She was startlingly beautiful.
"Where is...Who sent you here?" Like all Nordic women, her voice was easy on the ears. He chuckled.
"Who did you expect? Am I not your Prince Charming?" He laughed, and she looked incredibly puzzled. Her lack of reaction quickly sobered his mood.
"I was expecting someone...Well, someone like me." So that's why she didn't find the quip funny. Makes sense.
"A Vampire. Orange eyes, powerful scent, and a potent aura. I'd say you're one of the purest Vampires on this realm." He guessed, and she seemed taken aback by how much he could note within a quick couple of seconds.
"Despite my friends wanting me to kill you, I sense that you're not a threat to regular mortals. Why were you locked away like this?" He asked. His large hands moving in the air as he spoke.
"That...Complicated. I'm not sure I can trust you yet, either. Sorry." He nodded, respectfully. He would most likely do the same if it were him in her position.
"If you'd like to know the entire story, being me back to my family." She added, staring into his silver eyes.
"Done." He said, without a single thread of hesitation.
"My family used to live off of an island on the coast of Solitude. By the way, good to meet you. My name is Serana."
R&R, please! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!