Castle Volkihar, the Sea of Ghosts
Skyrim, Nirn
The 27
th of Last Seed, 4E202

Harkon Volkihar was a Nord by birth, with think hair and a tall, powerful body. However, he was a vampire, old and even stronger than he had been so long ago. His hair was dark and his eyes were piercing red and he dressed in red, black, and gold finery. He could afford it. He was wealthy after all. On this night, he looked up at the night sky from the wall of his island castle, just off the coast of Haafingar Hold. The moons were beautiful and the sky was endless and littered with stars. But he was watching for the foretold star, the one that would reveal where his daughter Serena was hidden away with the Elder Scroll. A star burning blue…

The sky lit up, and Harkon looked up. Everyone in Skyrim likely saw it. It hurtled to the mountains near Dawnstar, crashing with a brilliant explosion. Too near the Vigilant of Stendarr in their little lodge. He would have to take care of them. He gathered his best and finest warriors and they gathered the Death Hounds. Some flew out, others took the boats with the hounds. But as one, they storm across the land to the Vigilant of Stendarr's headquarters, then to Dimhollow Crypt…


Riften, the Rift Hold
Skyrim, Nirn
The 30
th of Last Seed, 4E202

Dione sat at her desk in the Thieves Guild Hall under the very streets of Riften. She was going over the ledger of what was in the vault. Money was pouring in. The vault was filling up with gold, gems, ingots, fine clothes, jewelry, fur…Hell, Delvin actually got the right furs this time! The last time he had overheard about a shipment of furs, it turned out to be firs, trees. Not that the wood didn't sell, just not for as much as furs would have. They were fine furs though: Cyrodiilic Mountain Lion, Great Forest Brown Bear, and West Weald Black Bear. Her attention was so focused on the ledge that she didn't notice someone had slipped behind her until she felt a hand grabbed buttocks.

"You're lucky I can tell when it's you," she pointed out.

She looked over her shoulder at her lover, fellow thief and Nightingale, and her second-in-command of the Thieves Guild: Brynjolf. He was a tall, handsome Nord man with dark red hair and charming green eyes. He gave her a smug, crooked grin and kissed her. Dione turned around fully and wrapped her arms around him. He grabbed her buttocks again, pulling her in. She ran her hands through his hair, which was clean and soft. He bathed last night, she thought as she was lifted onto her desk. Brynjolf slipped his hand into her trousers and-.

"MY EYES!" screamed Belinda, making the couple jump. They glared at her. Belinda had entered the guildhall and had her hands over her eyes.

"How did you get in here?" Brynjolf asked, letting Dione stand.

Belinda folded her arms over her chest. "The door was opened and Karliah let me in," she answered. "I'm here to see if Dione wants to go on an adventure."

"After the last adventure? Hell no," Dione responded.

"Grete recruited me for the Dawnguard and wanted to know if you were interested," Belinda pointed out. "Basically, vampire hunting."

Dione thought about it. She admittedly wanted her life to quiet down a bit more. After the disastrous planeswalks, war, and fighting Alduin in Sovngarde. However, there was the matter of a vampire killing a couple merchants in Riften. Dione had taken care of it as Riften was her home and dead merchants were bad for business.

Brynjolf watched Dione's careful consideration. "What are you thinking Lass?" he asked.

"I could learn something about warding off vampires," she answered. "After all, Riften is our home, our territory, our place of business. Vampires have been getting irritating." That did bring something to mind though, but she would not ask in front Brynjolf. Her eyes wandered to look at him. She loved him so much, but there was a whole fraction of her life he was not privy to. She wanted him to love all of her, but she could not let him. Belinda had hammered it in that many could not handle the infinite truth. Dione was afraid Brynjolf would be one…

"Something wrong?" Belinda asked.

"No," Dione answered with a poker face and neutral voice. The look in her eyes though said, "I'll explain later."

"Right, so you game?" Belinda asked.

Dione grinned. "You bet."

"Awesome! I'll feel a little better someone is around that I know will have my back," Belinda pointed out. "I'll let you two get back to it then." She climbed out of the guildhall through the secret entrance.

Dione sighed and turned to Brynjolf. "Well, the peace was nice while it last," she commented.

"Aye, Lass," Brynjolf agreed, walking over with a smirk. He pulled Dione close and kissed her lilac lips.

Later that night, Belinda was sitting at a table in The Bee and Barb Inn with Grete, Lucien, and Astral. Spyro was draped over her shoulders, sleeping lightly while Lucien sat on the floor with his face in a bowl of grilled salmon. Grete drank a mug of plain mead along with her meal of grilled chicken and flame roasted beans and potatoes. Astral merely had a glass of wine in front of them, pretending to be "normal" and seem Human. They raised the glass and pretend to sip, only to discretely pour the contents into Lucien's strategically placed bowl. Belinda had the same thing as Grete. Dione entered the inn and spotted their table. She was over and sat with them, pushing her hood back. The waiter, a green-skinned Argonian named Talen-Jei.

"Greetings Miss Desidenius; the usual?" he asked.

"Yes please," Dione answered.

Talen-Jei went off to get Dione's meal. Dione was busy fixing her hair so that it looked tidy. Er. Belinda snickered, cutting off another piece of her chicken. Dione gave her a look. "You got something to say?" she snapped.

"Had fun?" Belinda responded.

Dione rolled her eyes. "Immature much?" she snapped.

"Very," Belinda replied, sipping her mead.

Talen-Jei brought Dione her food and drink: Venison stew and a glass of red wine. "Keerava makes good soup," she told her friends. "Vekel makes good food, but mostly grilled steaks. If I feel more like soup, I come here."

"Fair enough," Belinda commented. "Everyone has their own specialty when it comes to cooking. Carlotta bakes good bread for example, though I suppose that's because she's been doing it for so long." She took a bite of chicken. "Anyway, Dione, was there something you wanted to ask about?"

"Well, I don't know how to say this in front of Grete…" Dione muttered.

"I needed a refill anyway," Grete told her with a smile. She got up and went to the bar.

"Are there Planeswalkers that are Vampires?" Dione asked Belinda.

"I only know of one," Belinda answered. "Karr mentioned him to me years ago."

"Vampires cannot become Planeswalkers," Lucien pointed out, hopping onto Grete's chair. "Sorin Markov is an exception. Things that cannot become Planeswalkers: Artificial creatures that are manifestations of mana like Angels and Demons, automatons and Golems, and the Undead. There are many theories as to why these things cannot be, and Amanisa suggested it has to do with the soul, but there always seems to be a reason why it's not so, especially when there exceptions running around the Multiverse: A Demon, though he was once a man; Sorin Markov is a vampire, and a Golem named Karn, though, no one's heard from him in a few decades."

"How do you become an exception?" Dione asked.

"Like I said: No one knows for certain and Amanisa's theory is most likely," Lucien answered. "I was born different and was told I would be important. They were right." He saw Grete coming back and hopped off her chair as Belinda nodded.

Grete sat down. "Anyway, tomorrow we'll be arriving at For Dawnguard," she informed them. "I hope you're ready. Isran is a hardass."


Fort Dawnguard, the Rift Hold
Skyrim, Nirn
The 31
st of Last Seed, 4E202

Grete roused them early the following morning, just before dawn. Dione was already at main gate, waiting for them. They went to the stable and tacked up their horses, riding off to the cave entrance for Dayspring Canyon. A young Nord man was there, wearing the clothes of a farmer and armed only with an iron axe. He was excited to join the Dawnguard and do something meaningful with his life. Grete led them out to where they saw a great fortress at the far end of the canyon. Some of the group half-expected the fort to be in ruin. Apparently Isran had been working on restoring the place for some time. Dione wondered where he had gotten the money to pay for such an obviously expensive renovation. Then again, she was a thief and a dungeon diver. She knew that could be well-paying if you lived long enough to enjoy the benefits. Clearly, this Isran had lived well past long enough to reap the benefits of his adventuring.

"Impressive," she complimented.

"Agreed," Belinda added.

Grete led them up to the fort doors of the fort. Inside, it was surprisingly clean. The front hall was a circular area with the Dawnguard sigil carved into the stone floor, surrounded by grates over water. Lucien went and looked into the water. Sunstones, no doubt to burn vampires. Above was a glass ceiling which the sun shone through, no doubt giving the gems and water the power to light up. If Isran knew about it, as seemed likely, then this would be a…SLAM! The barred doors slammed shut, cutting off access from the rest of the fort. Lucien gave this Isran credit: He was fast. He looked up to the balcony above them, where a Redguard stood in front of a control panel. The Dawnguard was known to have had mechanics that knew a good deal about Dwarven machinery. Isran had to have known enough to get the right stuff running.

"So, which of you is the great Dragonborn warrior I've heard so much about?" asked the Redguard, his voice rough.

"Uh, that would be me, and my instincts are tell me that this is a trap," Belinda answered. "Of course, I also read a lot in my spare time, so this is definitely a trap."

"Grete mentioned you were a smartass," Isran grumbled, looking down. "I hope none of you are vampires. Otherwise, this will hurt. A lot."

He pressed another button, and light with the intensity of the sun flashed. Grete and Lucien had closed their eyes, knowing what had been coming. Belinda, Ralof, Dione, and the Nord, Agmaer jumped and covered their eyes in pain. Astral was unfazed. Spyro, thankfully, was asleep and huddled on Belinda's scarf.

"OW! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Belinda shouted. "THOSE ARE MY EYES YOU JUST DAMAGED!"

Dione rubbed her eyes. "What was that?" she demanded.

"Needed to make sure no vampires entered the fort," Isran answered.

"Ugh, you paranoid fuck," Belinda grumbled, rubbing the spots and pain from her eyes. She blinked until her vision focused and she looked up. "WHY DON'T YOU COME DOWN HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!"

"I told you she would be pissed," Grete told Isran. "But nooooo, you insisted I didn't tell anyone a thing."

Isran actually chuckled, and opened the gates. He soon joined them in the front hall. He stood about two heads taller than Ralof, the tallest in the group, and looked down at Belinda. "You're not that impressive up close, kid."

"Oooh, pretend I care," Belinda responded, arms folded over her chest. She gave an annoyed eye roll. "I'll tell you what I tell every other asshole who's not impressed with me: I'm not here to please anyone. Not my fucking job." She and Isran exchanged glares, and the latter relaxed, though his idea of relaxed was Belinda's idea tense, and she wasn't relaxing a bit. Everyone knew then that the two were going to butt heads. A lot.

"Welcome to the Dawnguard, Dragonborn," Isran greeted. "You'll go a long way. For a little kid." Before Belinda could cuss him out, he turned to Dione. "Leader of the Thieves Guild and Archmage of Winterhold College. I hear you're one of the best archers in Skyrim. Can you use a crossbow?" he asked.

"Not yet, but I learn fast," Dione answered.

"Except for alchemy," Ralof pointed out with a smirk.

"Shut up, Ralof," Dione snapped.

"Well, what else are you good at beside archery?" Isran asked, looking Dione down.

"I am a Master in the Magical Schools of Conjuration, Alteration, and Destruction, I am a Master Enchanter, I can pick a lock in under twenty seconds, I can blend in with the shadows themselves, barter, and can fix my own gear," Dione answered. "My mother's made sure I could handle whatever the world threw at me."

"Grete said you can do something really impressive," Isran pointed out. "Impress me."

Dione held out her hand and formed arcane fire, ice, and lightning in her hands, fused together in a shimmering display of power and magic. She slammed her hands together to cancel the spell and then tried another. She combined a lightning, ice, and telekinesis spell and grappled up onto the balcony. Then she came back down in a bubble made from a ward, ice, and telekinesis spell. They watched. That was a new one!

"Belinda, throw a fireball," Dione ordered, ending the bubble spell.

Belinda charged a fire power, drawing power as she chanted the spell. Dione brought up a ward of fire and a Drain Magic spell. When Belinda threw the fireball, it was absorbed by the ward and gave Dione more mana. She released the spell. Isran looked at her, clearly trying not to look impressed. Secretly, he was. He had never seen magic quite like that before.

"Can you teach others to do that?" he asked.

"I can't," Dione answered. "Arcane Fusion is just something you're born with."

"Can you run a forge?" Isran asked. "You said you can repair your own gear."

"I know the basics," Dione answered. "My ma Hilda knows more. I can send for her to man the forge if you'd like. She's over in Riften with my mother Oriana and my mom Karliah."

"How many moms do you have?" Isran asked.

"My birth mother and my adopted moms," Dione answered. "They taught me everything I know. Ma is a smith and a warrior and Mother is a good merchant. Mom and my late dad are the ones where I inherited a lot of my skills from."

"Send for all of them then," Isran ordered, "they'll be helpful to the cause."

"I guess I'll send for my man as well," Dione muttered, heading out right then.

Isran moved to Ralof. "You look like a soldier."

"I was trained as a soldier," Ralof explained. "I fought for Ulfric Stormcloak, and Belinda guided me to my true calling as a healer. Dione's birth mother Karliah taught me alchemy, the high priestess of Kynareth in Whiterun taught me healing spells, and a natural healer taught me how to channel energies into other forms of healing. I've gotten really good in a few brief months."

"Good," Isran grunted, "and it's even better that you don't even need someone to keep you safe in a fight because of your soldier training." He stepped to young Agmaer, who was shuffling nervously. "What's your name, boy?" he asked.

"Ten Septims he pisses himself," Lucien said to Belinda telepathically. Belinda had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

"Have some faith, asshole," Belinda responded.

"I'm, uh…" Agmaer fell silent, feeling his hands get sweaty. "My name is Agmaer, Sir."

Isran raised a brow. "Do I look like a 'sir' to you, boy?" he asked. "I'm not a soldier like the rest of this lot you came with and it's not like you're joining the army."

"Yes si-. Yes, Isran," Agmaer yelped, almost cowering.

"Now…Farm boy, eh? What's your weapon?" Isran asked.

"Uh, my weapon?" Agmaer asked, grabbing his axe. "I mostly just use me pa's axe, and usually when the wolves were attacking the livestock. We had goats and chickens. I'm from Rorikstead."

"'My pa's axe…'" Isran repeated, looking annoyed. "Stendarr give me strength…"

"You need patience, not strength," Grete commented.

Isran huffed at her, and turned back to Agmaer. "Don't worry. I think we can make a Dawnguard out of you yet." Next he went to Astral. "Why are you hiding yourself?" he asked.

Astral raised their head and pushed back their hood. Isran and Agmaer took a step back, looking at them in shock. Grete smiled, struggling to keep herself composed. "Because, Dear, people think I am a Daedra. I assure you that it is not the case. I am an anomaly. I am raw magic power given life, form, and coherent thought. I am an Aetherborn. My kind may have existed thousands of years ago back when the Dwarves existed. It's hard to say."

"So…what can you do exactly?" Isran asked.

"I can drain life energy from living things," Astral answered. "I can use the energy to extend my life or heal others. I've been learning combat to defend myself."

"So, you're Astral? Guess I found out the part Grete was hiding," Isran muttered, giving the redhead an angry glare. "Did you hide this part from me to see if I would get scared?"

Grete gave a smug grin. "Trust me, seeing you take step back was hilarious," she told him. She had told Isran about Astral's strange ability and that they didn't have a gender, but was perfectly okay with being gendered if it made someone else comfortable. Astral was considerate of others.

"When did you become such an ass?" Isran asked.

"I spent six months hanging around these asses," Grete answered, pointing to the others.

"Right," Isran grumbled. Finally, he looked down at Lucien, who was licking his paw.

"I'm Lucien, yes I talk and I can talk in your mind as well, I can move things with my mind, I am highly educated, older than dirt, and I can whoop your ass so don't even try," Lucien introduced.

"He's also a pompous, arrogant, little shit," Belinda added. She looked to Isran. "Don't even try hiding the booze. He will find it and get into it."

"Alcohol kills cats," Isran pointed out.

"Not this one," Belinda responded.

"Being older than dirt can build quite an immune system," Lucien chuckled.

"I warned you that inviting them was essentially inviting crazy into the Dawnguard," Grete told Isran. "But considering you've lived long enough to restore most of the fort, I think we have a nice, heaping helping of crazy."

"Grete!" someone called, and the redhead turned brown-haired and bearded Breton in blue-grey armor similar to hers.

"Celann! It's been a while!" Grete responded. She went over and the two hugged briefly.

"Got unhappy with the Vigilant too?" Celann asked, stepping back.

"I left not long after you and Isran," Grete answered. "Talos sent me a vision to join the Stormcloak army, and it was true. I take it you've seen my mother?"

"I have," Celann told her. "She's was cleaning this place when I arrived."

"I brought her here so she would be safe, not to be a maid," Grete sighed. She turned to the others. "I'll catch up with you lot later. I kind of want to catch up with Celann and then check on my mother." Belinda nodded and Grete went off with Celann.

That night, Grete's mother, Maren, had prepared venison and barely stew for the few members of the Dawnguard. Aside from Isran, Grete, and Celann, there was also an Orc named Durak. By then, Dione had returned with Karliah, Brynjolf, Hilda, and Oriana. Belinda looked around. This is all of us then, she thought. We have a long way to go before being taken seriously as a group of vampire hunters. At least we have a base, supplies, and headquarters. We just need numbers now… She looked down at the crossbow Isran had given her. It was heavy, clunky, and impractical to her. Then there were the bolts, which weren't as easy to make as regular arrows. At least it looks cool, she thought. Maren came over and scooped a large ladleful of stew into her bowl. We'll also need more cooks and servants to cook and keep the place clean, especially if we increase our numbers.

"Thank you, Maren," she said to Grete's mother. The woman nodded and moved on. She was mute, having not spoken since she was freed from Northwatch Keep along with Thorald. Grete had been trying with no success to get her to speak again.

Maren scooped stew into Grete's bowl, and gave her a brief hug. "Thanks Mom," Grete said, hugging back.

"Your mother is a fine cook," Celann pointed out.

Grete nodded. "Damn right and don't you forget it." She sighed. "This is kinda like old times: Us enjoying a meal in the dining hall."

"Talking about our latest hunt…"

"Except without Carcette to give us crap," Isran added, sitting across from Celann and beside Grete. "Always saying how we should be focusing our efforts more on the Daedra. I'm sorry, were we not the Vigilant of Stendarr? Whose enemies were more than Daedra?"

"Agreed," Grete responded. "Daedra and Werewolves honestly don't bother me like they used. Let's be realistic: Werewolves can be productive members of society. And the Daedra and Undead? They're only a problem because people can be greedy and stupid. Granted, I won't hunt worshippers of Meridia or Azura because they actually care about their worshippers."

"A fair point," Celann agreed.

"But there's no such thing as a good vampire," Isran huffed.

"I find that invalid and offensive," Astral commented.

"Do you?" Isran asked.

"By technicality alone, I qualify as a vampire," Astral answered. "Sure, I'm not drinking blood or making others like me, but I can still kill a person." They sat back in their chair. "Perhaps the only reason you haven't seen a vampire who is a productive member of society is because you haven't tried looking for one yet."

"Hmph."

"But what do I know? I've only lived a few months," Astral said, sighing dramatically. "Be more like dear Grete."

"Thank you, Astral," Grete told him.