Chapter 1: Where it all Began
Morning had arrived in the cold, summer wilderness of the northwestern half of the Rift. Birds sung their songs as the yellow rays of the sun shone across the forested land, highlighting the dew that stuck on the long grass that littered the ground. A grey-colored rabbit ran, happily, along the forest's floor, past the trees, flowers, and rocks, soon coming to a halt in front of a large cave that laid against the rock face of the mountain nearby.
The small, fuzzy creature perked its ears up, and looked into the dark, abysmal cavern, as if in wonder. Before it could investigate further, a low, rumbling growl came from inside.
Squeaking in fear, the small rodent ran off, back into the woods, as a loud stomping noise echoed from inside the abode, and a brutish shape began to emerge.
A troll exited the cave, and walked is furred, hunched frame out into the open, holding a bone of some sort in one of its three-clawed hands. Its three, olive-colored, pupil-less eyes blinked, and looked around at its surroundings, before it let out a tremendous yawn, as it stretched its large, long, muscular arms and apish body out, in a sleepy manner. The large beast's brownish, mosslike fur had a green tint to it, complimenting its eyes, as seen when it walked into the sun's light.
After swatting a fly away from its long, gray face with its other hand, the troll trudged over the grass and tree-filled terrain, dragging the bone it held behind itself, occasionally lifting it up to nibble on the bare, white object with fanged teeth, like a young child with a toy.
It wasn't long before the lumbering brute came upon a small, desolate cottage in the middle of the forest. The shack appeared to be old, and in ruin, with most of the wall on its front side rotted off, exposing its interior. The rest of the wood that made it up and its roof appeared to be in a similar state of disrepair.
Without so much as a second thought, the troll entered the building it knew so well, tromping inside as if it owned the place, its large, three-clawed feet causing the floorboards underneath it to creak. The first thing it looked to was an empty, human-sized bed nearby, then to a bookshelf of intact condition just next to it.
When it approached the shelf, the beast stuck out its free hand, and grabbed one of the multiple books in its massive paw. When it brought it back to itself, it revealed a book with a brown, decorated cover, and the title the Cake and the Diamond on it. The troll dropped the bone it was carrying, which bounced onto the floor, as if forgotten so quickly by its owner, by the presence of this new item.
With exceptional care not to shred any of the paper inside with the claws and bare strength it possessed on its big, meaty fingers, the troll turned the pages of the old tome until it reached the page where it last left off from the day before.
And then, under the scant rays of light that showed through the rotting walls and highlighted the text of the book, it began to read.
"That sounds like an awful string of bad luck, Freya" Keerava spoke, in her raspy voice, to the brown-haired nord woman clad in Dawnguard armor, who sat on a stool in front of the bar counter, inside the Bee and Barb. "First you fail to find that one vampire you spent nearly eight years tracking down, and then get kicked out of the Dawnguard for it? Awful, awful luck."
"You bet it is, argonian" she replied, after taking in a sip of the Black-Briar mead in front of her. "They won't let me back in until I hunt him down and kill him, to "prove" he's real, and has been stalking me for so long. It's all about discipline and skill with those people. Then, one small mistake later, you get your reputation reduced from being an adept hunter, to a mere novice."
"Don't worry" the argonian bartender went on. "As long as you keep paying for rent, always know you've got a home here."
Freya let a small chuckle escape the lips on her tan face, at Keerava's comment, as the sound of the door to the inn was heard creaking open from behind her. Looking back, they both saw someone enter.
The skinny figure, clad in a long, black garb and cape, his head covered by a hood, kept his head lowered, and walked up to where Freya sat, and Keerava was serving drinks. As he stood next to Freya, she saw his mouth, and most of his face, was covered in bandage-like cloth, save for where his eyes would have been.
"I'll h-have a bo-bottle of m-m-mead..." he stuttered in what sounded like a quiet, shy, and muffled, but audible breton accent, plopping a bag of coins in front of the argonian. With a wry look, she took the bag, and placed a bottle of nord mead in front of him, which he promptly snatched in a gloved hand.
As he moved away, to a table nearby, Freya could hear as something underneath the person's robe, causing a rattling noise, like old bones, or wood clanking together, drawing her attention.
Deciding to test her luck and curiosity, she picked one of her hands up, off of the counter, and a purple glow started to shine in her palm, as she focussed her mind to creating a detect life spell. Each of the people in the room's outlines were then enveloped in a light blue color, indicating that they were alive.
All, except for the hooded figure.
"Well... What do you know..." Freya whispered to herself, her face curling into a sneer. As she finished the spell, the purple glow in her hand disappeared, and she took in a deep breath from the energy spent making it.
"I think I'll check on... Something… Be right back" she spoke, picking up her closed, metal helmet, and placing it over her head, covering it. "Keep my drink safe."
"Um... Sure" Keerava replied, as Freya walked over to the newcomer, on of her hands on her sheathed axe, at the ready.
The hooded creature, whatever it was, not noticing the approaching nord, appeared to be shivering, and a feeling of cold was radiating off of his body. This wouldn't have seemed odd, had it been winter, but, unfortunately for the hooded being, it was the middle of summer, and the vampire hunter's suspicions were piqued to the fullest at this point.
"Mind if I sit here?" she asked in a faux polite tone, just as the mysterious person was about to lift their mead, and take his first sip.
"Y-yes... I mind" he said, in a nervous voice, his teeth chattering, as he lowered the bottle. Freya sat down anyway, to which the stranger replied by lowering his already low, hooded head further, as if hiding something.
"What d-do you want?" he asked. "I h-have n-no business with you, or an-anyone here. G-go away. Let m-me try to dr-drink."
"Trust me..." Freya started, as she unsheathed her war axe, and laid it on the table, in front of him. "I think you have business with me. Important business. One that makes drinking the least of your worries."
After shifting his head up, making a quick glance at her with his eyes from underneath his hood, he cowered it back again. What Freya was startled by when he did this, though, was the two, blue lights that showed in the darkness from behind the cowl, like blue embers, in the place of where his eyes were.
"What do y-you want?" he asked again, the sound of his voice changing into a more fearful one.
"I want to know what's under that hood of yours" she blatantly responded. "Now."
"I... I can't d-do that" he replied.
"Why not?" she wondered, the pitch of her voice becoming more hostile with every syllable.
"Th-that's c-complicated" he said. "And f-for reasons I'm n-not so sure of mys-self. Please… Please j-just g-go away. I m-mean you no harm."
"Do it, or I'll kill you... Undead" she threatened, having enough with the coyness her opponent was showing. Whatever was underneath the hood let out a gasp when he heard her mention the "u" word.
"Well?" she inquired, pawing at the axe, when he became still, save for the shivering he still exhibited.
With great reluctance, the being lowered its head again, and very shakily pulled the cloth that covered its face off, throwing it on the table. He then, with trembling hands, and a whimpering voice, pulled the hood down, revealing what it truly was, to the shock of Freya, and the surrounding people watching the spectacle, some of which yelled out in astonishment.
It was a skeleton.
On the forehead of the now-visible skull, above the two, glowing sockets, was what appeared to be a very noticeable symbol of an eye, carved into the blank bone, glowing a slightly purple color.
"By Ysmir..." Freya gasped, with mixture of confusion, and surprise in her words.
Before she could pick up her axe, the undead creature brought his arm up, and sent a blast of pure ice magic from his gloved hand, hitting the Dawnguard, full-force, and encasing half of her upper body, and the chair she sat on, in solid ice.
Freya grunted in retaliation as she tried to break out of it, and the undead pulled its hood back over its face as it stood up, and immediately started running off, passing all of the shocked patrons of the bar as it burst out of the door in a hurry, even pushing some aside, each of which were too surprised to even retaliate.
It was only a few seconds later that Freya finally broke the ice covering her, and rushed off, trying to catch up with the wretched undead creature, who was now fleeing out of the front entrance to Riften, while everyone else around it yelled in fear, and anger at the sight of it.
The chase was on.