Liiiiiittle author's note here: Any writing criticism is appreciated 3 I will be taking some creative liberties when it comes to characters and lore and shit, but don't worry I won't fucking break
the elder scrolls here. I know a decent amount of lore. Anyway enjoy some shitty writing and characters (i love them and i hope yall do). Also, this has a lot of swearing and gore so prepare plz,
or simply don't read if your mom would take your phone for reading this. NSFW and graphic things may occur. Gonna be a short ass prologue but anyway, plz enjoy and leave a comment with the
pros and cons
_
Night in the Dayspring Canyon was solid and massive, made only more suffocating by the high rocky walls. A cool breeze sent whispers and shrill whistles through the pine branches and rocky
crevices scattered here and there. So impenetrable was the mist and the dark that the distant torches on Fort Dawnguard appeared to be distant fireflies. The grass was damp with moisture and the
dirt stuck annoyingly to the boots of a small group of Dawnguard warriors moving down from the fort.
"The weather had to be shitty... I hate the cold," a young Dunmer grumbled. The flickering torchlight lit his face just enough to see a thick beard and greasy, shoulder-length hair. His eyes were
magenta and his ashen grey skin was dewy and young. He was only fourty-seven years old, and in the typical 500 year lifespan of a Dark Elf, that was practically a baby.
"Weeeell, maybe you should have dressed better, Brev," an Orcish woman lamely replied. She lead the small band with a shield on one arm and a torch in the other. Her skin was pine green, and
her hair was shaved short and brown. The torchlight made her brown eyes a liquid amber, the color of sunlight through an empty bottle of ale. She spoke again in her raspy voice, "you are really
an idiot, wearing light armor when you damn well knew that Skyrim is a cold bitch when it comes to weather. Don't complain unless you got real reasons too, or I'm making you travel a foot
ahead as Daedra bait."
"Okay, okay, I get it. You're mad," Breval replied. He was affectionately (at least, what he liked to believe was affectionately) nicknamed Brev. It was better than just being called "Elf" or "Rookie"
so he went with it. The Dunmer shuddered and glared at the Orc, then wiped his mustache of the midnight moisture and sniffled.
"Y' both talk too damn much," a Nord man muttered. He was taller than the other two Dawnguard members, and his hair was of platinum blonde made ginger in the torchlight. He walked behind
the Dunmer and Orsimer with a sort of lumbering step. Most people thought he was such a caricature of a Nord man.
"It isn't me who does it. Look at the rookie," the Orc girl huffed. The canyon was coming to a close ahead of them, and they would have to slip through the slim opening back into the main roads
of Skyrim.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm just excited. I wish Grel would slow the fuck down though," the young Dark Elf replied. He shuddered from the cold and scuttled after his leader, holding his torch
ahead of him as he followed suit through the crevice between the stones. The breeze only got worse and the torches blew out. The Nord man behind them uttered some curses and kicked a rock.
"Grel, I agree with Brev here fer once so y' better slow down," he called ahead.
"Alright, Armodr. Alright," she rubbed her almost bald head and scanned the surrounding area. It looked empty, but it was hard to tell. The wind had everything moving, and the fog was thicker.
Grel took a few strides and set her blown out torch behind a fallen tree log, and instead cast a magelight spell to float above her. The glowing ball of white turned her face to shining orichalcum,
and the dewdrops in her hair glowed with the same vibrance. The Dunmer and the Nord crouched with her, and they all shielded their faces from the breeze to try and get a clearer picture of the
scene. The silence was tense between the three figures in the magelight.
Breval broke the silence, asking, "so, road patrol? Or are we just gonna hide here and make up a story for Isran?" He was shivering and clutching his shoulder with one hand. They all looked at
each other with silent indecision.
"The weather is too risky, I say. Maybe we should tell him?" Armodr suggested. His blue eyes struggled to see anything in the dark, foggy, windy stretch of land in front of them.
"Isran would send us right back out here. You heard how serious he was about this patrol. This road has been victim to the most recent attacks from the damned vampires," Grel pursed her lips, as
she was a little unsure of herself. The weather was hard, they couldn't even light the torches. But something in her heart was clenching tight, telling her to just keep moving. Orcs didn't back down
for some cold winds. She was taught that much by her parents.
"Well... shit," Breval sighed. "We should just go now. We're only wasting time," he said and stood up, holding his hand out for Grel to stand as well. His gaze went upward, surveying the skies. The
moons were only barely visible through the clouds and fog, and they outlined the rocky cliffs stretching above them. And ahead, trees and winding roads. Breval felt small. Smaller than usual. He
was just a couple inches short of six feet tall and many liked to poke at him for it.
The group stuck close together, all with a magic light about their heads and their weapons drawn; a warhammer for Grel, a sword for the Armodr, and two war axes for Breval. Outlines of
crossbows were on all their backs. They walked slowly down the roads, all with their eyes peeled and their heads turning on swivels. Wind consistently battered their faces with a barrage of dew
and bone-piercing cold. The air was tense with more than the wind and dark.
A larger group was creeping up the road, flanking the small Dawnguard patrol. Their eyes glimmered yellow and all of them wore cloaks and dark armor. They whispered amongst each other, but
otherwise emitted no noise for the unsuspecting trio ahead of them.
Breval walked a little closer to Armodr, yelling to his friend through the wind, "Should we ditch this and go to Riften for a drink?"
"I wish, rookie. But it wouldna be honorable," Armodr replied. He rubbed his braided beard with his thick, sausage-like fingers. Breval grumbled and rubbed his temple, looking ahead at the vast
screen of black ahead of them. Grel's magelight was farther ahead, and he noticed it was still. The Dunmer nudged his companion and nodded at the light. Both made their way over with their
brows furrowed and their shoulders squared. As they got closer, they could see Grel crouching over something dead. Breval jogged over and crouched as well, scanning the corpse. It was a Khajiit
merchant, whose fur was matted from the rain. There was blood but not a whole lot, and that was usually concerning for a member of the Dawnguard. Grel was moving his head, looking for
the bitemarks. The two men noticed her face shift, and she immediately stood with her warhammer in hand. Not a word was spoken, but they all knew what happened.
"This feels fresh..." Grel spoke harshly over the wind. Her eyes were wide with concern. "The flesh is still... I don't know." Breval noticed Armodr nodding in understanding, and he grew nervous.
His hands clutched his war axes tighter.
"D'ya see tracks?" The Nord man asked, turning to poke at the scene of the Khajiit's death a little more. Grel stepped over the corpse to look in the bushes and the mud, and she huffed in anger.
"No, I can't see anything in this stupid-," her voice was cut short by a shrill squeak. Both men witnessed in horror a crossbow bolt fired straight through her skull. She stumbled and grabbed Armodr's
arm, red leaking out of her head, and finally falling into the mud. There was no time to mourn; The Nord's teeth bared and he backed away quickly, crouching and holding up his shield. Breval was
trembling and he scrambled to his ally, holding his axes in white knuckles. More bolts fired at them, piercing the wooden shield. The Dunmer shoved an axe into his belt and started forming a spell
in his left hand. Through the wind and fog, he could see sets of glowing eyes staring back at them. He didn't need to count to know that him and Armodr were outnumbered.
"Brev - what're we gonna do?" Armodr hissed. The Dark Elf numbly shrugged, and fired a bolt of lightning out into the dark. He heard a brief cry of pain in the dark, and saw the outline of a body.
Desperately, he fired bolts into the fray. Some hit, some missed but lit up legs and cloaks. Armodr held the shield in front of them, too afraid to reach behind to grab his crossbow. His magelight
went out in a pitiful fade. Then, it was total darkness and confusion. Breval cried out in fear when he felt movement near him and he slashed out with the axe. It skimmed nothing, and the next
thing he knew, there was no shield in front of him. And no Armodr: there was a loud yell cut off by a snapping of bone. Hands dug deep into the young Dunmer's scalp and dragged him through
the mud, slamming his face into it. His axe was ripped from his hands. There was laughing and cocky footsteps, and when Breval wiped the tears and mud from his eyes he could see a pair glowing
back at him.
"Look, a baby Dawnguard, looks like. Much less refinement than a veteran one," a Redguard man spoke, looking down at the petrified Dunmer. Another vampire kicked the downed man in the
side and he let out a pained grunt. "Think he'll be useful?"
"He better be. But either way, win-win. I haven't tasted a Dark Elf's blood before," a female voice spoke. "Let's leave the roughing-up to the rest of the court. They decide what to do, really,"
she sighed and took Grel's warhammer from the mud, and gave the Dunmer a whack in the back of the head with the butt of it. Just like that, Breval was out cold.
"It's a new one. They usually sell out sooner rather than later," the Redguard rubbed his fangs and watched as the Nordic woman picked up the unconscious Elf. "We should get something good
from Harkon, I hope."
"Like he hasn't given us enough already?" the Nord vampire replied with a huff. Another voice agreed with her, the others were relatively quiet. Save for some snickering and whispering. The
leading Redguard vampire shrugged with a sly grin. "Who knows. It's Lord Harkon." The Nordic vampire rolled her eyes, and with that, the party of undead quickly crept their ways down the
road and into the forest. They would hop shelters through the day, and avoid any day travellers as they did. Then they could deliver their Dawnguard rookie package to Lord Harkon, and hopefully
get some good information on the faction that they could work with. Anything helps, anything helps at all. Especially when there were prophecies needing completing.