After making a fool of herself with Kaius, Sofia had done what she knew best. Get drunk.
Not just regularly drunk, but entirely, bone wateringly, mind devastatingly drunk. She knew that the first thing that Gunmar had done when he arrived besides lock up all of his critters was set up a still. The fiery mixture that she had swiped from it after leaving the dining hall tasted like an equivalent to a punch to the head and a mouthful of firesalts. As horrendous as it was, it was serving its purpose and getting her end-of-the-world drunk.
What it wasn't doing was getting her brain to shut up. That tiny little voice in the back of her skull, the one that had always been warning her about such things as 'punching that guard in the head' or 'hanging out with the stranger smelling of fire who dropped his pack on her in the stables' was incessant and refusing to go away.
So she continued drinking, constantly moving about the fortress and despite her words to Kaius she wasn't seeking anything, or to be precise… Anyone… For one of the few times in her life she didn't feel like finding the first guy to show her any attention and drag him somewhere. Instead she just wanted to find some hole somewhere, pull the dirt over herself and hide away from the world.
As she couldn't do that at the moment she had settled for the next best thing; drinking until she couldn't feel feelings anymore.
"Kaius is such a bastard..." She slurred to herself, each word and syllable blurring together until it was a single khaiusishsushabashard. "of course he has a wife. Of course he has children. And stupid me has to go and stick my foot in it like that. In front of her as well."
The bottle filled with the potent alcohol burned her mouth but it was numb from the other two bottles she had finished already. "I mean; it's not like I can help myself. He's the first guy who I have actually like liked and then he has to go ahead and treat me like a person."
The bottle in her hand seemed to grow heavier for a moment and she leant against the wall, feeling the cold stone press into her bare shoulder. "Why can't he treat me like everyone else does? Wouldn't that be easier? But no. here I am, roaming about some bloody fortress in the arse end of Skyrim feeling sorry for myself."
Again taking a mouthful of alcohol and wincing, she sighed and flopped fully against the wall, feeling the chill onto her bare flesh and realising that she was deficit some articles of clothing she hadn't earlier. For a brief moment she wondered when or how she lost her chainmail shirt before she wondered whether she even cared.
"What do you think I should do? I mean, it's not like I haven't simply wandered off and left a guy in the middle of the wild before." If the bottle had any answers, it refused to give up such secrets and she took a swig instead. "Then again, Amauoc was an idiot. I get drunk and love drinking but I've never been that drunk to get married to a hagraven. It also wasn't my fault that he gave the thing his ma's ring."
Pressing down hard, the silence in the corridor echoed her words and she suddenly found herself feeling extremely self-conscious. It wasn't a feeling that she had ever truly enjoyed and she dealt with it as she always did, by attacking it head on.
Kicking off the wall, she stepped, staggered and swayed into the approximation of being upright, briefly stopping and leaning against a torch sconce before swinging into motion again. "Damn Kaius and being all noble. And honourable. And nice. And handsome. And nice."
She blinked, staggering and taking another mouthful as she tried and failed to grasp the train of thought running through her mind. Instead she found herself staring at the bottle in her hand suspiciously as it was distinctly lighter than what she supposed it should have been.
"Fuck him, fuck everything, fuck –hic– oh. Great. –hic– Just what I need."
The hiccups began and she sat on a nearby crate that looked older than what she did, giggling for a moment before lowering her head to her chest. "Gods –hic– damn –hic– it –hic– all."
For the third time in the past hour, the bottle was empty and she stared at it while trying and failing to contain the hiccups. There were barely any dregs in it from the potent grain mixture and she sighed. "Of course –hic– I have to get feelings for a man that –hic– can't have any for me."
Throwing the bottle across the floor, it bounced and rattled alarmingly loud and she jumped at the noise. Dragging the fourth and last of the potent brews from where it had been jammed between her belt and her hip she began pulling at the cork, hissing for the rolling bottle to be quiet before breaking out into giggles.
She was halfway through removing the cork when she realised that she wasn't alone in the corridor. A few meters away stood a shadowed figure, standing silently and watch her go about opening her last pilfered bottle.
"Hey there."
Freezing like a deer caught by a hunter, she was in the process of pulling the cork out with her teeth as she heard the voice. It was soft and subtle, but obviously a man's.
"Hey there –hic– yourself. Can't you see –hic– that I'm busy?"
Partially concealed in the shadows, the man stepped forward, moving closer to where she sat on the chest and the nearby torch sconces. "I can, but I was wondering whether a gorgeous creature like yourself would like some help with that?"
Her instincts for identifying a fool had paid off handsomely over the years as she had travelled from tavern to inn to coaching house on a wave of free booze and coin that her looks provided her. Normally, such a reaction from any man would have sent them into overdrive and her into a mass of batting eyelashes, swinging hips and poses that would accentuate her 'assets.' This time the tiny voice, mostly drowned in alcohol hissed directly into her ear and forced her to look the man in the eye.
He was a little taller than she was, not as tall as Kaius but roughly the same height as Isran. There was none of the hardness that was present in either of those men in this individual but he moved over to her with a winning smile on his face.
"You look like you could do with some company."
"You might think that, –hic– but unless you are bringing more bo–hic–oze you can go think that elsewhere."
If he was put out by her tone he didn't show it, instead he continued to move closer until only a few short metres separated them. "Is that the price of spending time with someone of your beauty?"
The tiny voice was now screaming and if it had hands it would be alternating shaking her brain and giving slaps up the side of the head. Slowly though it was beginning to break through the alcoholic daze and she began watching him very carefully.
"Maybe. Maybe I just –hic– want to be alone."
"Solitude is a double edged sword."
She looked him over with an appraising eye, and only one eye as she had to close the other just to be able to focus. He was definitely shorter than Kaius and had a few centimetres on her but there was something strange about the way he stood there. Like the rest of the Dawnguard he wore the steel brigandine of the Order but unlike the others it clung to him like a sack rather than the finely tailored and crafted suit of armour. What's more was Sofia could see that there was a darkened stain smeared into his collar.
"I don't know you."
"Oh, I'll introduce myself in that case." The smile was filled with perfect white teeth, framed in a handsome, weather beaten face of Redguard ancestry. "I'm Namasur."
Despite the alcohol her gaze hardened and she staggered upright. "I –hic– still don't know you."
"Well, I'm new to the Dawnguard. Arrived yesterday."
"No you didn't." The alcohol was thundering its way through her veins and clouding her brain but the certainty was obvious. "I have been helping train –hic– every member of the Dawnguard for the past three we–hic–eks. I've never seen you before."
"Oh well. It doesn't matter." The smile this time was darker, the eyes clouding with shadow until burning glows appeared. "After tonight the Dawnguard won't exist."
Hissing and now obviously wearing stolen armour, the vampire's fangs pushed out of its gums and removed any doubt from Sofia's mind. Even with the booze in her veins she was expecting the attack, but because of her drunkenness there wasn't much she could really do about it. Unarmed, partially naked and having lost her chainmail shirt somewhere over the previous hours she had no choice but to fall back on her magicka, magicka that was being hindered by the fact that she was struggling to stand up straight let alone anything else.
The spell still managed to crash into the onrushing creature of the night and stop it in mid stride. In her haste she had reflexively cast the first spell that she could think of, which in her current state of mind was not what could be considered a 'normal' spell.
"What the…" the vampire hissed, stopping in mid motion, jaw open wide in surprise as it looked down at where the spell had hit it in the chest. The bolt of magicka was no firebolt, cast lightning or ice spike but a glimmering green splatter that clung to its clothing and stolen armour like glue. Unlike glue however it was spreading, eating and consuming and within seconds Namasur was completely naked.
"What the fuck was that?"
Sofia's grin, despite the anger and incredulity of the situation before her put even the vampires fang filled maw to shame. "Bet you weren't –hic– expecting that!"
"I'm going to break you in half and rape your corpse!"
The second bolt of magicka was not a clothes-eating spell that she had got one of the students at the college of Winterhold to teach her those years before. This one was a real spell taught by Kaius and it hit the vampire in the face and shattered its teeth and broke its nose. Kaius had never told her where he had learned the spell but it hit with all the force of a punch from an orc with the burning effects of a bolt of lightning.
Stunned, bleeding and trying desperately to see, the vampire was completely unprepared as Sofia staggered towards it, moving in closer as it tried to get its bearings. Before it even realised what was happening her last bottle had been broken over its face before the shattered glass was jammed into a throat.
If she hadn't been so drunk she would have been more concerned by the fact that she had just been attacked by a vampire. Instead she found herself looking down at the broken bottle clenched in her fist and the way the now burning vampire was writhing on the floor was being helped along by the highly flammable mixture it was coated in. It seemed to be such a waste of good alcohol.
Sighing loudly in annoyance, Sofia toed the crumbling, smouldering remains with a boot and looked about the darkened corridor. Somehow the importance of what had just happened managed to make its way into her mind and she turned and began stumbling her way as fast as she could in the direction of the living quarters. The alarm needed to be raised.
Shortly after Sofia had left the dining hall, Serana had followed suit. Choosing to retire to the privacy and solitude of her 'quarters' rather than spend any more time with others, it was a comfort when the wooden door closed her off to the world. It was strangely comforting being enclosed and locked away like a fragile trinket, and in a lot of ways it was all she was used to. Her home had never really felt like a home and there was little difference between the time before she was placed into Dimhollow and the months since being awoken.
She knew that she was supposed to feel bitter or betrayed at the fact that the Dawnguard, a group of vampire hunters were providing her with greater freedoms than what her own family had both before and after they became vampires. Her fate it seemed was to be forever locked away from the world, reading and dreaming and imagining what it was like outside the stone walls where she… existed…
But then she didn't really have to imagine anymore. At least not everything. It was this thought that make her growl to herself and put down the book she had been reading about the history of the 2nd Empire. She had seen a tiny fraction of the world during the journey between Dimhollow and Castle Volkihar. Kaius, Sofia and Lydia may not have been the nicest or subtlest of travelling companions but they treated her almost something like an equal. Sofia and Lydia may have been wary, and there had always been the overhanging threat that Kaius would have simply killed her at a moment's notice but they were fair.
The Dawnguard, despite her initial expectations didn't go out of their way to treat her unduly or otherwise abuse her. There was no torture, no beatings of any kind and nor did they treat her like an animal. She got the impression that they all were doing so on purpose and not just because of the unspoken issues rising from Kaius' presence. They were treating her well because they expected themselves to and they were striving to be better than the creatures they hunted. Serana remembered all too well after Kaius had turned down her father's offer of his blood and had been banished from the castle. She had been locked away in her room as though four thousand years hadn't past and she was a teenager again. guards had been posted outside of her door and other than the thrall who would enter and obediently offer their throat to her there had been no interactions at all.
Gods-be-damned, her father hadn't even bother coming to check on her but instead had been content with the fact that she was in his 'care' once more. At least someone from the Dawnguard would knock on her door before entering to see if there was anything she would like or to merely check on her. Once or twice a day they would even provide a waterskin filled with the lukewarm remnants of a deer or other animal's blood, as well as ensuring that she was able to walk about whenever and almost wherever she liked. It was… confusing to say the least.
What was even more confusing was the sudden sounds of scuffling outside of her door that made her rise to her feet. The guards, as they always had these previous days had simply let her shut the door behind herself and didn't even bother with the motions of locking it. Those responsible for her guard duty were equipped with the best weapons, armour and a collection of Sorine's 'trinkets' and Serana knew that it would not take much for them to use them.
There was a fleshy thump, and a rattle of metal on stone before the jingling of keys and the shuddering of a lock made itself heard. This was immediately suspicious and she moved away from the door, feeling the way her fangs slowly slid out of her gums at the realisation that something was not right. Whoever was fumbling with the lock hadn't realised that it had been unlocked to begin with and had obviously expected it to be locked shut the begin with judging by the muffled curse of annoyance as they realised their mistake. Before she could move or decide what to do the door creaked open, and a pair of individuals moved inside.
If Serana wasn't wary before, then the sight of the two vampires who walked into the room was more than enough. They were grinning with their mouths full of fangs, blood still dripping down the front of their tunics from where they had recently fed. Judging by the still and prone figures of her two 'handlers' there was no doubt who the two vampires had fed on.
"Salonia. Stalf. I would say that it's nice to see you both but I would be lying."
Both of the vampires grinned fiercer and she found herself hemmed in between them. Both were not hiding their true forms in the slightest, and while she recognised them both from her father's court they were not some of the originals. They both had the stink of middle-aged vampires about them, and Serana only knew their names from the few short weeks she had stayed at the castle after Kaius' departure.
"Princess. Your father has missed your presence." Salonia Caelia may have been a beautiful woman once, but the years of vampiric pollution in her veins had corrupted her flesh to match the darkness of her soul. The eyes burned with fire, and like many of the later generations of the Volkihar clan her face had been twisted, nose flaring out and becoming ridged like a bat and lips and face growing taut across shifting bones.
Her companion grinned with his full predatory nature. Stalf had once been a minor thane of one of the northern holds, but any nobility of his birth had been drowned in his vampiric blood. "He has sent us to retrieve you."
"I'm not going anywhere, and I'm certainly not going back to the castle."
"Well, suit yourself." Salonia's voice was sibilant and mocking as she moved closer to Serana. "It's really too bad you know. The little accident you had here, but what do you expect when a vampire goes to a group of cattle for help?"
"Yeah, too bad." Just as mocking, Stalf's tone was lowering itself to a crawling whisper and the grin they both shared were terrible to behold. "Lord Harkon's daughter, dead so soon after finally returning to the family."
"I suppose we're just lucky that I was here to return the scroll to Vingalmo, so he could make sure Harkon gets it back."
Stalf stopped in mid stride, his face even more hideous when twisted in surprise. "Wait, what? That's not what we agreed. We take it back together."
With her back against the wall, Serana could only watch in confusion as the two vampires' attentions turned away from her and to each other.
"Idiot." It was impossible for Salonia to place any more hatred and loathing into the single word as she spat it in Stalf's face. "you didn't really think I'd let you walk out of here either did you? Vingalmo wants you both dead."
Surprisingly Stalf seemed to enjoy this confession, and he dragged his sword from where it was at his side. "Well that's just fine. Orthjolf told me to finish off anyone who got in the way."
The clumsy lunge with his sword was not directed at Serana, but at Salonia instead, jamming it forward with the full intent on skewering the other vampiress where she stood. In the space of a heartbeat the battle between the two of them had erupted in all the fury and violence that the vampire race could afford, and Serana found herself little more than a spectator to their undying hatred. A sword and dagger clashed together, clothes ripped under bestial talons and fangs bit and snapped fruitlessly trying to sink into pale flesh.
For her part, Serana had skirted around the brawling creatures as quickly as her own dark abilities allowed herself too, trying desperately to ignore the way that her body coiled and tingled with the promise of a dark power unlike the thin-bloods who had come to kill her. She knew all too well just how powerful she truly was, what powers and abilities she could call upon but despite the terrible lure she resisted and bolted through the opened door.
Salonia and Stalf had just enough time to mutually realise what was happening before the solid oaken door slammed closed in their bestial faces. Both had been too invested in killing each other that they couldn't do anything before it had closed with a boom and the lock snapped shut. This room hadn't been chosen to house Serana at random, it was hardened, reinforced and the walls, floor, ceiling and door had been imbued with some of the most powerful enchantments available to containing the undead. Even Kaius would have been stuck inside for several hours before being able to break free, and there was no chance for the two half-breed vampires now contained inside.
Not wasting any time, Serana rushed over to the nearby bell hanging from the wall. It had been placed in case she or any other vampiric occupants within the cell were attempting to escape, but now she began ringing it as hard and as loudly as she could. Judging by what her vampiric hearing was picking up her alarm was almost not needed at all, as the fortress began echoing with the sounds of screams, roars and the clashing of metal on metal.
Unknown at the time, Gunmar had been one of the first of the Dawnguard who had realised they were under attack and had managed to sound the alarm. He had been wandering in the direction of his own quarters near the smithy and animal pens when he had heard suspicious activity within the main hall. Almost comically, he had blundered right into the middle of a small group of vampires, three of which were cursing and grunting and hauling back on the wheels that controlled the portcullis and raising the enormous metal grating.
No more than a glance was needed to realise that they were in serious trouble, especially as he took in the sights of a pair of guards lying motionless on the floor, and an enormous crowd pressing into the gateway. There were dozens of thralls, and several furless, black skinned dog like creatures in the press as well as several more vampires waiting for the portcullis to be raised. Without hesitation he had turned and fled, ripping an alarm bell off the wall in his haste and ringing it as loud and quickly as he could.
As effective as it was in alerting the fortress to the threat they faced, it was just as effective at drawing the creature's attention to him. Within seconds of the brass tolling echoing through the fortress that was returned by a chorus of orders being shouted it was obvious that he was being chased. Gunmar may have been many things, but a runner was not one of them and he had been quickly caught by a pair of the blood sucking monsters and a small pack of their attendant thralls.
It was all he could do to curl up into a ball and weather the punches and kicks that rained down incessantly. He was larger both in size and body mass than all of them, but when the fight was eight against one there was little he could really do. What was worse was the way that they were obviously not attacking the fortress with the intent on killing them all. The fact that the creatures held back and didn't feed did not bode well for anyone. They were seeking to destroy the Dawnguard, but they were not going to pass the opportunity to increase the number of thralls they could feed upon.
A sandalled foot crashed into his face and he was left snorting and coughing from the wash of blood that streamed down over his mouth and chin. An eye went dark after one of the thralls grabbed him by the hair and punched him as hard as she could and he could feel the layers of bruises that were already beginning to show. The pain was incredible, and even worse than the time that he had gotten drunk and fought that cave bear the Khajiit caravan had tamed.
"Enough. I might like my meat tenderised but we don't want him crippled."
Unable to properly see with one eye already swollen shut, Gunmar could do little but look up at the grinning creature standing in front of him. It was undeniably a vampire, the twisted visage was unmistakable but the thin, malnourished individuals surrounding it were all mortals. Men and women alike they all had the same, stupefied expression that had always made him think of domesticated bovines. Each and every one of them were thin, heavy scar tissue packed densely around their throats and wrists and were dressed in a collection of rags and pieced together armour. The vampires had never been content with arming or equipping their thralls, they were only here to act as labourers and meat shields against the Dawnguard.
"Lift him up."
A pair of hands, bone thin and cold gripped him under the armpits and they dragged him upright. The two thralls were smaller than him but after the beating the mob had just provided him it looked as though all of the fight had left him.
"You'll do I think." The vampire said simply, giving him a quick up-and-down with its burning eyes with disgust written into its features. "I'm not one for the taste of Nord but others will appreciate the morsel."
A little more than a glance from the creature was all that was needed to command the two thralls holding him by the arms and for the briefest of seconds he made the show of being compliant. Then the second was gone, and he twisted around, slamming his head as hard as he could into one face before turning, pulling the other close and slamming a knee into a groin with such force that the thrall was lifted several centimetres off the floor. Despite being bent to the will of a corrupted and damned monster there was little in the world that could allow a mortal to remain standing from just injuries and they both folded over in agony.
"Get him you useless scum!" roared the vampire as Gunmar exploded into activity. His injuries were slowing him down but he was thankful that he didn't have far to run. His living quarters were nearby, and he had chosen such a room because it was adjacent to the smithy and the animal pens. From the sounds of things, the rest of the Dawnguard were in the middle of a battle for survival and would be unable to lend him any aid, but he had other friends to call upon.
The key hanging from its leather loop around his throat was snatched away in mid run, and ducking and weaving through the corridors and semi-abandoned rooms he managed to buy himself precious time from the mob of thralls surging after him. They were baying for his blood almost as much as their vampiric masters were, but he didn't allow himself any time to consider the situation he was caught in. Purely running on adrenaline and forcing himself to ignore the vivid collection of bruising and swelling all over his body he kicked open and door and leapt inside without hesitation.
Slamming the heavy wooden door closed and flicking the latch, he knew that he had seconds to spare and only if he was lucky. The cavern where the animal pens were located was a canopy of noise, of dogs barking and howling at the sound of battle that they could hear throughout the fortress but he didn't waste any time with them. Isran had allowed him to purchase just over two dozen war and hunting dogs but for the most part they were still needing weeks of training before they could fight against vampires. There was only one pen and one pen only that he skidded to a stop before, fumbling with the enormous lock and chains that kept the reinforced door closed and grunting with relief as his key clicked into place.
The punch, when it arrived drove all of the air out of his lungs and he was thrown several metres away from the enormous door. Abstractly he sensed rather than felt the way something snapped in his chest when he landed, finding himself suddenly more concerned with the fact that he was having problems breathing more than anything else. That and there was the issue that another vampire was now looming over him.
"Very clever meat. Very, very clever." It growled at him, moving over to where he had landed as he groaned in agony and tried to roll over.
"Oh, don't rise on my behalf. Take a seat!" A leather boot pushed him back down, the heel grinding into his sternum and he tried to push it weakly away. The leg within the boot and tunic was harder than ebony and impossible to dislodge but he tried anyway.
The door that he had slammed behind him was little more than matchwood to the first vampire and its pack of thralls, and it exploded aside with a well-placed kick. In seconds the room was filled with almost a dozen thralls and the two vampires, all moving about and looking at the squirming Nord under a vampiric boot.
"Are these your pets?" growled one of the creatures, grinning triumphantly as it gestured to the collection of closed pens where the chorus of growls and endless barking was emanating from. "Then it is going to be fitting watching them all die."
Spears, daggers, swords and axes were drawn by the thralls as the two vampires ordered their minions to move towards the pens. They were obviously not expecting Gunmar's reaction of laughter as he looked at them all, and the door that he had almost be successful in opening.
"What's so funny meat?"
Spitting blood that dribbled down the side of his face, he didn't relax the grip he had on the vampire's leg on his chest. "Stendarr's wrath is about to fall upon you."
"We don't fear your impotent god any more than we fear you, meat."
At their backs, the chains assisting in keeping the reinforced pen closed had fallen away and the door itself trembled as the creature within nudged it curiously. One of the thralls saw the strange movement and moved closer, dagger held in a thin, anaemic hand but still grinning confidently.
The corrupted mortal's expression turned to horror as the door slowly swung open, and they had to crane their head back to look into the eyes of the creature the pen contained. Almost two and half metres tall, and weighing half a tonne of pure muscle the enormous shaggy troll stepped out into the light of the cavern and looked about the small collection of beings in front of it.
It's triad of eyes in the centre of its skull squinted at the sight of so many being in front of it, but as it moved out of all fours its gaze only seemed to linger on the man under the vampire's boot. The man who had raised it from a trolling to the enormous beast it had become.
To the vampires and the thralls, it was not the sight of a fully grown troll in the fortress that was the most concerning. What was worse was the way that it had covered in thick leather and armoured plates, its already resilient hide that was immune to most weaponry, having been enhanced with metal rivets and bolted directly into its flesh. Gunmar had spent years training the creature since it was an infant, and taking full advantage of its incredible healing ability and complete immunity to pain he had created an armoured behemoth capable of fighting a dragon with reasonable chances of success. The armour alone weighed more than a warhorse's barding, and he had further enhanced its deadly nature by fixating a pair of enormous blades on the back of each wrist.
Unable to whistle through his swollen lips, Gunmar laughed triumphantly in the horrified face of the vampire standing on him.
"Stendarr." He said simply, calling out loud enough to draw his pet's attention.
"Kill."
Fura Bloodmouth was in ecstasy. After so many months of hearing about the pesky vampire hunters, and after so many years since she had a true hunt she was knee deep in death once more. Lord Harkon had commanded her to lead the glorious attack against the fortress and in doing so had sent his greatest killer.
She had slaughtered her way through every hunter she could find, choosing not to pause or restrain herself or take prisoners like the other vampires were doing. She did not give mercy, she did not have restraint and when her Lord commanded her to kill, then that was exactly what she did.
The other pitiful members of Harkon's court could concern themselves with herding the cattle and fleshing out their stocks of thralls but she was a killer to the core. Let Orthjolf and Vingalmo have their petty schemes and ceaseless bickering. A thousand years of dealing with them allowed her to know that they only desired political power and would never understand the true power of the blood.
It was this power that drove her onwards through the halls of Fort Dawnguard. She swirled through the darkness, wrapping it around her like a cloak but unlike the halfbreeds and weaklings following in her wake she chose to reappear within full sight of her prey. To simply fall upon the cattle and feed was not good enough sport and she was not going to simply let this killing be over with before she had her fill of death.
One of the hunters was borne down screaming, his throat ripped to ribbons by her fangs even as he tried unsuccessfully to jam a sword between her ribs. These Dawnguard were exceptional foes, and the others she had killed had been some of the closest fights she had in centuries but they were still mortal fools. Even with their tricks and devices she was not a mere youngblood and although two of the vampires following in her wake had been left as burning ash and bones from silver swords and distracting powders she had remained untouched.
Another died as she ripped an arm away, sword and all and left the shrieking vampire hunter to be born to the ground by another of Harkon's court. Some blood had already gone down her throat but she was seeking better prey to slake her thirst. The leader of the hunters would have been preferable but she was resigning herself to the possible fate of consuming his subordinates instead.
It wasn't as though Fura was limited in her selection. The living quarters housed a considerable number of the hunters and even with a hunting pack at her spine and a collection of thralls following there were so many to choose from. The largest collection of beating hearts was behind one of the double doors at the far end of the corridor, and choosing to ignore the fact that all the rooms either side were completely empty she rushed onwards.
Her pack was readied, the collection of thralls prepared to charge forward and the doors were closed in their faces. No doubt the hunters were realising their folly of taunting the true masters of the night and were trying desperately to hide. Maybe they realised that the very beating of their hearts were drawing the predators right too them, maybe they didn't. It didn't matter to Fura as she stepped in front of the doors and kicked them open with an enormous crash and splintering of wood.
She was expecting screams, pleas of mercy and the pathetic grovelling of mortals when faced with half a dozen vampires and a dozen thralls. Instead she found herself staring, mouth falling open in shock at the sight of the Dawnguard arrayed before her.
Standing off to the side of the collection of hunters, Sorine Jurand grinned underneath the helmet she was wearing. "Oooh. You made it. Congratulations."
Two ranks of Dawnguard, all half-dressed and wearing a collection of armour pieces they had managed to drag on were arrayed in a semi-circle around the main entrance to the barracks. While underdressed and mostly lacking their armour, what they weren't missing were their weapons. The six vampires and their mortal thralls found themselves staring at thirty loaded crossbows; all of which were loaded and pointed in their direction.
Fura's mouth struggled to form words and in some abstract part of her mind she noticed how two of the orc hunters were wielding arbalests so enormous they were practically dismounted ballista. There was a hint of shuffling and the creaking of trigger mechanisms as the assembled Dawnguard adjusted their aims.
"Fuck me." she stammered, a split second before she and her pack were punched off their feet by the first volley of silver tipped bolts.
Despite their hatred and opinions of the Dawnguard, the vampires had come in full force. Four or five thralls for every vampire, and several dozen of the lesser members of the Volkihar clan had come to utterly destroy the order entirely and while many of their number were getting bogged down in the unexpected fighting throughout the fortress, there were others who had very specific tasks. Some, like Stalf and Salonia had been tasked with finding and retrieving Serana, and others had been ordered to find the Elder Scroll and confirm the truth of whether a Moth Priest had arrived at the fort recently. For those few creatures who found the cowering priest in his quarters, his eyes covered with a strip of cloth they soon turned to tormenting the old man.
Shoving, pushing and prowling about him as he tried his best to cower and turn his blind eyes towards his tormentors, Dexion had been filled with a terror that he had never thought possible. The trio of vampires and their small collection of thralls were running about the room, growling, shrieking and cackling as they took great pleasure in terrorising him, but another voice, a friendly voice was the greatest thing to have ever reached his ears.
"I guess you weren't lying then Arkay, there really are vampires in here."
As one, the collection of the damned and corrupted turned to the appearance of the orange robed priest casually strolling his way into their midst. He was unarmed, unarmoured and outnumbered but there was no sign of fear about him. Despite soon finding himself surrounding by the vampires and their mortal pawns, Florentius had continued on with his seemingly one-sided conversation with the heavens.
"Are you seeking your death?" Growled one of the vampires as Florentius moved closer to his elderly friend. "Or do you think that your god will protect you?"
"Hold your tongue. The dead do not speak." Even for the vampires, there was something strange with the gleaming expression in Florentius eye as he made sure that Dexion was fine. "Arkay has been watching over me for years now, not that I will need his help with you lot."
"Some confidence you have there, priest. Let's see how your blood tastes."
"See how they doubt you?" there was a sigh from Florentius as he spared a glance upwards. "It is my sworn duty to see Arkay's wrath delivered to all the undead. Will you and your kind deign to raise an army, fall into ranks with those mortals who embrace a heretical order and expect to stand uncontested? Arkay will not allow it. I, will not allow it!"
The star shaped pendant with the rounded citrine gem was plucked from his throat, and all the vampires present had their gaze drawn to the collection of beads hanging from the amulet. Each of the beads were crudely made, but were undeniably silver and they watched with amusement as Florentius wrapped them around a fist.
"I once killed thirty vampires with my bare hands you know." The manic gleam in his eyes was growing stronger by the second as he lowered himself into an experienced fighting stance. "I'd tell you to ask Arkay but it's easier to show you all instead."
He had been expecting this moment to come from the very instant he had chosen to rebuild the Dawnguard. He had planned, schemed, prepared but when the vampires finally attacked Isran was no longer sure he was truly ready for it. despite all their best efforts, months, if not years of designing and preparing they had still managed to breach the fortress's defences and were cutting and biting their way through his hunters.
Even before the first warning bell began sounding he knew that something was wrong. Years had attuned his instincts to incredible levels and he was no longer certain whether his senses were entirely human anymore. The same warning instinct that saw him cladding himself in his armour instead of commencing his nightly mediation allowed him to slay the first vampire who kicked open his door before they realised they were under attack.
But nothing else was going according to plan. A dozen of the creatures had managed to infiltrate their way past the guards on the ramparts and their focus had been clear. They had rushed the main hall, opening the gates and the portcullis and allowing a veritable flood of the damned and cursed into the forts interior. Death hounds, thralls and vampires alike were swarming through the fortress and he knew that the main hall had to be held if they were going to have any chance to survive the night.
Enacting one of his many, many contingencies, the length of chain slithered and writhed its way down the pulley system he had installed above the walkway outside of his quarters. The walkway was only large enough for two men to walk abreast, as was the spiralling stairwells which as effective as it was in bottling an assaulting force, it was counterproductive in allowing the defenders to counter attack and reclaim the fortress.
In full view of several shocked thralls, Isran took a running start, hurdled the balcony railing and simply reached out and grasped the unspooling chain with both hands, catching it and dropping down the five stories only slightly slower than if had simply fell. Audibly grunting as the chain suddenly stopped he released his grip, ignoring the twinge in his shoulders as he dropped, rolled on the ground floor and came up fighting.
Surrounded by enemies and alone in a sea of evil he didn't reach for his blessed rune hammer slung down his spine. There was a time and a place for such an application of force and power and this was not it. instead his hands moved of their own accord, punching a thrall off her feet, spearing a throwing knife into the chest of another before shattering a gourd of silver dust across the head of the third. Even before half of them realised of the threat in their midst two were already dead or dying, and the handful of vampires within the hall were already feeling the effects of the silver particles in the air.
Then he drew the Light of Dawn.
He had practiced with the incredible blade relentlessly over the months since Kaius had pressed it into his hands but this was the first time that he had drawn it in true battle. There had been that more recent attempt to slay Kaius that he used the blade, but Kaius' skills were proof against even the incredible enchantment that allowed it to cut through anything. Against a pack of thralls and their undead masters it proved its true worth.
One thrall simply fell into two pieces, the look of shock on the man's face etched into Isran's mind as the immaculate weapon cut him from shoulder to hip without even a tug of resistance. Another died as he swiped his legs out from under him and cutting his head off before he could even fall or realise the injury. The blade made a complete mockery of everything standing before him, cutting and gashing and disembowelling everything and everyone in his path to the chained wheels controlling the portcullis.
Screaming with pain and rage, a vampire rushed him despite its flesh peeling away from the effects of the silver dust. Isran didn't even slow down, throwing a bolt of pure starlight from his hands that stuck the being in the face and left its flesh smouldering. One eye was left charred and blackened from the holy bolt, but its true introduction to pain began as Isran impaled it through the chest on the Light of Dawn.
Kaius had told him several times about the weapons unique ability against vampires, about how the sparkling, gleaming sword with lights twinkling in the depths of the blue-black metal would come to life when it tasted vampiric blood. For his part Isran had simply passed it off as a fabrication, as another tale from his hated adversary with no merit or founding in reality. As he kicked the shrieking vampire off the edge of the sword he discovered that yet again he had been wrong about Kaius when the entire blood soaked length erupted with vampire scaling light.
The vampire he had speared with the Light of Dawn shrieked and died in a burst of ashes and burning bones, dropping backwards in a writhing mass as the light stripped it of flesh. For those few seconds that the light shone from the enchanted weapon every vampire in the room felt its caress, leaving them covered with weeping red sores as though they had sprayed with boiling oil.
For the first time in decades, Isran was left openly shocked as he looked at the sword in his hands as the light faded away into nothingness. The blade was still gleaming with distant lights in the metal, but the realisation that this truly was the ancient sword of legends left him grinning fiercely behind his wiry beard.
Again he went on the attack, but the unique nature of the sword had drawn the attention of every foe within the hall and they rushed him en masse. Thralls roared and screamed as they were cut down, a death hound yelped as he stabbed it in mid leap and flicked it over a shoulder and a vampire shrieked its last as its life was burned away by the sword's enchantment. Even for him there were too many, and without support he found himself overwhelmed.
Latching onto the armoured plates covering his shin, a deathhound ripped him off is feet and began worrying and shaking his leg back and forth in an attempt to maul the flesh. the vicing pressure in his leg was incredible, but was quickly forgotten as a thrall managed to kick him in the ribs that knocked the wind out of him. They swarmed his suddenly prone form even as he killed and cut with the Light of Dawn. A thrall dropped screaming as he chopped her legs out from under her, and another was pulled in close before the sparkling blade cut his throat in a wash of blood. but for every foe he killed, another two took their place.
"Fus ro dah!"
As unstoppable as an avalanche, the wall of power and sound ripped through the press and blasted them off their feet. In the back of his mind Isran knew that it hadn't been aimed at him in the slightest, but the power of the Thu'um was enough to feel like a punch to the face even though it hadn't touched him directly. For those who it was aimed at they had no chance. Bones shattered, flesh was pulped and the broken remains of several thralls and a vampire were thrown away like broken toys. One of the thralls bounced off the wall with such force it left a humanoid starburst of blood and gore dripping down the stonework, and the vampire simply exploded in burning viscera.
Seizing the momentary advantage that the explosive wall of death had provided, he kicked the death hound gnawing on his leg with the other. Like a snapping branch he felt its jaw break a second before he hacked down with the Light of Dawn, ensuring that it wouldn't rise again.
Kaius had joined the battle, as had a handful of Dawnguard at his back and judging by the snorting and bellowing roars echoing from the direction of the animal pens, Gunmar's pet was being put to good use. A handful of thralls were fleeing from that direction and were completely heedless to anything or anyone, even their corrupted loyalties to their vampiric masters unable to withstand the horror of facing half a tonne of very pissed off and heavily armoured troll.
Despite his hatred for Kaius, it was obvious that his training and interactions with the Dawnguard were paying off. There was no fear or uncertainty in any of the dozen hunters following Kaius into the maelstrom that was the main hall, they simply moved with ice in their veins, hacking in short economical movements and protecting their comrades at all times. several took turns loading and firing their crossbows, ensuring that every two seconds one of each pair was firing and the other loading with mechanical precision. Their appearance, and Kaius' ability to speak the tongue of Dragons finally forced the vampires to realise that there was no salvaging the situation.
In ones and twos initially, thralls and their undead masters turned to flee and within seconds it had turned into a full rout. A thrown pair of daggers had knocked the locking mechanisms for the wheels keeping the portcullis raised and grinding and shrieking it ground closed, trapping a number of the beings within the hall and trapping them between the enormous metal gate and the Dawnguard.
Clearly showing their supernatural abilities, a trio of vampires had realised their plight and had thrown their muscles into the portcullis while their thralls and several of their number dropped with silver tipped bolts lodged deep in their flesh. The collection of death hounds was already dead or very close to it and the floors were coated with blood and ash but in sight of all present the trio managed to haul the portcullis up on their shoulders, roaring with the effort.
There was nothing that they could do to stop the last of the creatures from escaping, despite the continuous volleys from the handful of Dawnguard crossbows many of the thralls were sacrificing themselves as human shields to protect the half dozen vampires in the press. Isran railed at the thought of letting even as single one escape and charged forward with the Light of Dawn raised high but a gloved hand, tipped with talons grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him onto his back.
Striding forward with broadsword tightly gripped in one hand, there was no doubt about Kaius's true nature as he snarled through a mouth completely filled with needle like fangs. His jaw was somehow unhinged to allow the enormous lengths of the razored teeth that had replaced his mortal and there was nothing but inky blackness in his eyes. Even the bones of his face were jutting and erupting forward, twisting his visage into one of vampiric hatred even as he shouted Yol Toor Shul directly into the press of corrupted humanity.
Kaius inhaled deeply during the Yol, exhaling with hurricane force for the Toor Shul and his very breath turned the air to fire. Purposely drawing out the last two words he turned the enclosed gateway into the heart of a furnace, filling it with white hot flames that hurt to even glance at. The shout only lasted for a few seconds before the fires had passed and Kaius stepped back with a grin on his face that Isran could only describe as draconic.
None of the vampires or the thralls that had been in the gateway survived. Many had simply ceased to exist in the roaring power of Kaius' Thu'um. Here and there a few molten blobs of metal could be seen rapidly cooling into the stone floor but these were all that was left of the various swords, maces and other weapons their foes had been wielding. Nothing of flesh or cloth or leather remained.
Smiling, no signs of the vampire was left on Kaius' face as he moved closer and into the passage that had only seconds before been filled with a mass of enemies. Not even the four centimetre talons on each finger were visible on the hand that had pulled Isran out of the way of his dragon's breath.
"Looks like I owe Sorine some money." He said simply, laughing as he looked at the way the portcullis glowed with heat and began clicking and popping as the metal cooled. "It really can stand up to dragonfire."
