The voice in Bann-Je's head tells him to clean and to repeat

The voice in Squint's his Eye's head tells him to kill silent and clean

The third voice tells them both things that only a god would know

Too bad it isn't always coherent

Oh gods, she wanted to kill them all.

Rage. All consuming rage. She was desperate and angry and a fire burned in her head just behind her eyes. She'd bite her lips but she had already broken through them twice and the pain in front of her teeth only served to further set them on edge. And to think there was this gods forsaken solid door between her and them. It was infuriating. They had even teased her. Three unsuspecting slabs of meat dared try to sneak up on her, as if she were the prey, not the predatory. She toyed with them just out of spite, just because she could, all the better to see the fear on their faces when she jumped over their sword points and tore them each to pieces. She drank and fought as she could, finishing off the last just before she followed him down their fall to the bottom of the tower. And still, three did not satisfy her.

But a small voice whispered that it was for the best. The quiet whimpers in her mind fearful and despairing over the crescendo that raged in her mind. This was wrong. This was all going wrong, at least that's what a small child cried, a little girl she had ceased to be years ago but the ghost of the little one had never gone away. This was not who she was and it frightened her.

But she was so hungry! And thirsty! It was as if hunger was melding into thirst and her thirst was so vast it had become hunger. And she had not eaten in her whole lifetime. And they would put the feast behind a solid metal door and bar her from it! And they called themselves her "friends." If they were so sincere they would learn their places, bow before her and offer up their lifeblood like the cattle they were; so easy to manipulate and so complacent to follow orders. Even the strong willed Nord who liked to fancy herself an unbreakable woman still became as docile as a lamb if you spoke to her the right way. The two beastmen were exactly what they were called; beasts who could easily be cowed into submission.
She wanted them dead.

The most common thing to do in a situation like this was to drop into mechanical movements, familiar routines and repetitions since they were somehow comforting to most of the races of Nirn. Muraat was practicing what might quickly become an obsolete position as temporary tower host downstairs at the entrance. He also had quietly disposed of the bodies of the Thalmor agents that morning. No one would suspect their final resting place as that one dune out in the back. Besides, bodies were bad for business. Everyone else was in Do'Ravier's room which also doubled as his study. The Khajiit himself was sitting at his large desk which was better described as a table, too many open books sprawled out in front of him and stacked in piles. He was not even looking at them, choosing only to stare ahead wide eyed and without focus. A single finger tapping the table idly and without thought. Sylva was helping him by scouring through the library, still trying to find books that might have any relevance to his search.

Bann-Je understood that medicine, at least the restorative side of it, was not his area of expertise. Curing diseases was another matter altogether and it was clear that even Do'Ravier was not able to tackle it. But the one voice in his head screamed that things would be at least marginally better if he made the place shine like a mirror so he got to sweeping and dusting. The other voice remained silent because there was nothing to kill. The last voice blathered something about a giant triple headed slug outside.

Sibylla stroked her ax head with a whetstone again, just as she had been doing for the last half hour. This was far beyond any of her abilities. Getting their friend back was something more for the cat to do and even he was unsure on how to go about that. The only other possible solution she could offer would be more permanent and there would be no getting Claudia back if that happened. It was something they did not want to contemplate. It was hard to ignore the thought in the back of their minds, though. Claudia's screams, shrill, angry and spine chilling, were still filtering through the heavy metal door that also happened to be Zelphia's living space.

Perhaps half the reason they were still hesitating to react was because of the things they saw that morning that persisted in haunted them. All of them had different images spied from different viewpoints but the bottom line was the same. At the sound of the ruckus, Sibylla had emerged from her room with just a simple robe, her shield and ax ready. She was just in time to watch Claudia lunge for Bann-Je. There was nothing natural in the Imperial's movements, even at the speed at which she moved. They resembled that of a starved animal more than anything else and the speed was so great only Bann-Je's equally insane reflexes allowed him to dodge in time. When Claudia hit the spot that the Argonian had been in, it bought Zelphia just enough time to tackle Claudia on the spot. It stopped the newly birthed vampire all for three precious seconds before she squirmed from Zelphia's grasp and made a lunge for Do'Ravier.

Perhaps the only thing that kept Claudia from sinking her new fangs into his neck was that he had somehow caught her face with his paws. Either way, the cat could have only been lucky because there was no way he would have been able to bring his hands up in time as a reaction. When Claudia connected with him, the force brought them both onto the floor, the wind knocked from the Khajiit and Claudia snarling hungrily. Do'Ravier's muscle shook with the strain of trying to keep her from his neck and for a moment someplace in his mind he noted that her eyes were a deep, bloodshot red and it disturbed him how disconnected that observation was. He could feel her fangs starting to run through the hair on his neck when she was suddenly pulled off of him by Zelphia.

"Run, you fool cat!" the older vampire shouted, hands firmly holding the Imperial back. Do'Ravier had never moved quicker in his life before.

The struggle became tense as Zelphia continued to hold Claudia back and it was clear they were locked in a broiling impasse that in no way appeared to remain that way for long. Zelphia was either shocked or slightly terrified. She yelled why as she continued to restrain the vampiric Imperial.

"How are you this strong? You just turned!"

Claudia continued to howl and scream, jaws always opened to reveal her teeth and fangs. They started to realize that Zelphia was noise to her, an obnoxious noise. Her only focus was opening up her former teammates just to consume their blood.

"I-I need help!" Zelphia suddenly shrieked, realizing that she was losing her hold on Claudia and this time that inadequacy would prove fatal.

"Help!"

"How?" Do'Ravier shouted in panic. None of his spells were geared towards incapacitation and as powerful as Claudia appeared, one barest miscalculation would mean the difference between Claudia being gravely injured or dead.

They suddenly heard Sibylla let out a battle cry which drowned out all of them and saw the Nord rushing from down the stairs. Before any could react the Nord leaped down from the lowest landing and brought the face of her shield in a staggering punch towards Claudia's head. There was a sickening smack, enough so that Bann-Je and Do'Ravier, who had winced, were certain that was it for Claudia.

Then they heard her screaming again in rage.

"Enough!" Sibylla cried and driver the flat of her shield down on her friend again and again and again. Just when she thought her arms could go no more Claudia suddenly went limp and hung in Zelphia's grasp.

"...My gods...that would have pulped a dozen heads...how is her face only flush?" Sibylla panted.

"Something's wrong. No time to wonder. Help me get her shackled in my room. Now!" Zelphia barked. Claudia's non-belligerent form was firmly grasped in the tight, tense hands of her hands and frantically rushed up the stairs where they bound her lips in eight shackles, two for each limb.

And that brought them to their current situation.

"What are we going to do?" Sibylla asked again, the Nord's voice devoid of most of it's usual imposing vigor. As far as Bann-Je and Do'Ravier were concerned, it was the most helpless sounding they had ever heard from her.

"I've donated blood. Muraat has donated blood. Sylva has donated blood and that has all been within the space of this morning. I donated more again this afternoon and you just did awhile ago. We don't have anymore more of those Dwemer needle capsules and healers generally discourage cross contamination. My healing magic can help to alleviate the blood loss but it is not self sustaining. We'll need to let our bodies naturally replenish depleted blood or we'll slowly but surely grow weaker. We're in a bind and I can't find an answer in these books." Do'Ravier explained with a grumble, frustratingly slamming a book shut.

"Will any blood do? My camel Karl is still standing out there doing nothing and I'm sure he's got plenty of blood to spare."

"Zelphia once explained that for a vampire, animal blood is like living off of lettuce leaves and fruit rinds. You'll survive but it won't slack the hunger. And Do'Ravier is under the impression that what we know as 'hunger' does not begin to describe what a vampire feels."

"So we just sit here and wait it out?" Sibylla snapped, clearly against the idea.

"I'm not finding anything! There's always speculation of a cure but if there is one, only the Divines or a Daedra Lord would know!" the Khajiit hollered.

"The voices in my head tell me that it might have been misplaced." Bann-Je announced. He was ignored.

"Are you still bickering about what to do about your friend?" Zelphia grumbled, stalking into the room.

"And what if we are?" Sibylla growled.

"You can't do anything." the vampire shrugged.

"What do you mean we 'can't do anything?'" the Nord reiterated venomously. Zelphia did not seem fazed by the woman's ire.

"I mean it's a waste of time and energy trying to figure out what to do. She'll either snap out of her murderous haze or...she'll never come out. She'll just disguise it." Zelphia explained, leaning against a bookshelf.

"And there's nothing that can be done to help her come out with some form of sanity?" Do'Ravier inquired with a frown.

"Pfft. I haven't found one." the vampire scoffed.

"Well, we have to do something!" Sibylla protested.

"Why? Aren't you the type that believes the Divines sometimes intervene?" Zelphia inquired. No one could tell if she was mocking them or shaming them.

"That doesn't mean we should just sit around doing nothing!"

"You've done everything you can do, right? Isn't that a sign that everything is now in the Divines' hands?"

Sibylla scowled and glared at her but then stomped off. Do'Ravier felt bad for his Nordic friend, he even shared her sentiments but he also knew Zelphia had a point. Looking back at the vampire, he shot her a wry look.

"Are you sure you're not a priest, or have you ever moonlighted as one in those three centuries of yours?"

"Bah, long story. I guess I better go back and check on my infernally loud new roommate. If it wouldn't be biting the hand that feeds me I'd start charging you louts." Zelphia grumbled before leaving.

Truth be told, while Zelphia could have done without all the noise her new cellmate was making, a part of her did feel a sense of solidarity with the younger woman. After all, as much as she would have liked to have forgotten her own transition, it was not terribly different from Claudia's. While all vampirism sprang from the same basic disease, the change manifested itself differently among different people. The pattern was there, enough for healers and inquisitors to know what to look for, but a great many details changed from bloodline to bloodline, vampiric coven to vampiric coven.

She was still puzzled by why Claudia's particular form was rather unique, even by the different standards Zelphia had learned to look for. She had done a lot of research on the matter in her three centuries. It seemed that every other decade she would decide that she would go find the cure and then the next decade give up on it. Some rumors of a cure found by witches here, another whisper of a dark promise to the daedra lords there. It was all hearsay and madness. Her best guess while Claudia was acting differently was from the description the former vigilants had given her before all of this transpired. Claudia got her disease from a coven of vampires the others swore looked sickly and diseased. Vampires did not suffer the ill effects of sickness. Oh they got weak and ornery when they lacked blood but that was a different book altogether from the symptoms she heard coming from the vampires that gave Claudia the curse. If their strain had somehow been altered by this mage of Peryite then all the rules had been changed and none could read the book.

Her new guest was expertly shackled and effectively bolted to the far wall of the cell. A heavy leather muzzle was drawn over her mouth and that too locked with chains behind her head. Her eyes were clearly angry but remained the dull pink they had always been. This meant nothing, sometimes a vampire's eyes changed, sometimes they did not. Zelphia found no pattern to it in her near three centuries of being a vampire. Claudia's loathing eyes followed her as she entered with barely a sound and slipped over to a nearby simple hammock.

"I used to be like you, you know? A nice young lady with my own life ahead of me. I even had friends; you wouldn't believe it now seeing me the I am, wouldn't you?" Zelphia chuckled to herself. Claudia just let out an animalistic growl.

"Oh hush, just listen to Zelphia's story. This was a long time ago. We still had swords and bows, we weren't beating each other with stones or anything like that. I understand it was a much nicer time. There was no silly rebellion up in Skyrim; the High Elves were even obediently part of the Empire and the Dark Elves were still rounding out cats and lizards to use as slaves. It was a simpler time then." Zelphia reported, flint cold eyes staring up into the dim light of the old Dwemer lantern wistfully.

"Did you know that I was part of a noble family? I think you are too, you got that willful spirit to you, the one that has no problem giving out orders or going on an idea that enters your head. Hahaha, we could have easily been friends. Or enemies. We're just a few too many centuries apart from each other. Do'Ravier and Bann-Je, what kind of names are those? Anyway, they tell me you were all priests of some sort before you all went your separate ways. Did you know it was a vampire posing as a priest that gave me this curse? Oh, yes, how scandalous." Zelphia giggled.

Her captured audience of one did not make any noise and Zelphia honestly was not paying attention. She tried to probe her memories of what happened next. She had come to the temple to pray at night. She was the pious type and she remembered one of the priests saying how important it was to pray many times in a day, preferably in a holy place. Zelphia had done just that. The vampire had snuck into the temple posing as one of the members of the cloth. She had seen him when she entered but did not pay too much attention to him. After all, what was so out of place of a priest being in a temple? She kneeled to pray and that was when the vampire sprang on her. The images got distorted after that and most of them involved her first kills out on the streets of the Imperial City. She remember she somehow got caught and that was why she had to flee.

Once you have fallen into the darkness, you care little for your past life. A small tinge of regret flickered in her for her parents. They seemed horrified and sorrowful the last time she saw them before she fled. That quickly disappeared too under the corroding influence of the darkness in her. Her first place of refuge were the city sewers where she lived like a little rat, preying on the stupid or occasionally coming up at night to off an unsuspecting begger and drag them down below. But, as time went on she could tell people were getting suspicious and she was tired of the damp so she left. She went east to Morrowind before rounding down south for a time in the Black Marsh. She didn't care for the taste of Argonians so she left and went...she didn't remember anymore. Maybe it was Skyrim, maybe it was Valenwood. She had been to each of those places at least twice in her travels. Looking back she was little more than a sophisticated animal. Her past life, her faith, her possessions...none of it meant anything anymore. Everything had turned into a means to an end, and that end was to kill because nothing could squash the hunger for long. And even then, about a century ago, that too started to fade and then she felt that long forgotten emotion of regret. Was that how she ended up here, trying to find a cure? It was all hazy.

"Ancient history...all of it." Zelphia murmured before rolling over and casting Claudia a sly grin.

"Now, you can choose to try and take a stand against that burning, gnawing feeling inside you. Oh you can't beat the curse, I know that's for sure. But you can also choose not to be a slave to it. So, are you willing to listen?"

The two eyed each other for a long time in the gloomy light.

The three sat moping at the lobby counter. The dinner they ate was light as none of them felt like eating. Do'Ravier and Sibylla were also slightly light headed due to the missing blood in their system which they had yet to get used to. Sylva was resting from an afternoon of hauling books around while Muraat had returned to his wife and their cozy abode in the small storehouse just outside the tower. Under any other circumstances it should have been a good evening but with their friend currently having a rather dramatic unlife change upstairs, they were on the verge of despair.

"Tea?" Bann-Je offered Do'Ravier, a steaming brew of the Elsweyr cactus tea in his claws. The Khajiit simply grunted and dragged the warm mug closer to him.

"I keep telling myself it could be worse." Sibylla mumbled to no one in particular.

"Yes, just don't tempt fate." Do'Ravier muttered.

Bann-Je didn't say anything, but one voice wondered why not tempt fate? The worst that could possibly happen would be that you ended up in an even worse situation. Chances were, you might just go crazy instead and at the end of the day, crazy wasn't too bad.

They all looked over when they heard a heavy knock on the metal doors that barred the entrance. Sibylla was simply curious but Bann-Je and Do'Ravier immediately found this as a cause for concern. Most of their regular visitors simply walked in, made themselves at home and did business. Only the new and uninitiated knocked. While this was still a sign of manners being practiced the last thing they needed was a hungry vampire upstairs and a visitor they had no prior knowledge of.

"Should I send them away?" Sibylla offered.

"No, Do'Ravier will get it." the Khajiit sighed before heavily getting up from his stool. That quickly became irrelevant because their visitor helped themselves in. The figure was slim and wore a deep purple desert robe and hood. They all quickly spotted the stranger's foot paws which were bound in light cloth wrappings, presumably to keep the foot pads from being scorched raw by the desert sands. Behind the paws was a rapidly swishing tail. Before anyone could ask, they all heard Do'Ravier sniff the air deeply. He immediately shook his head.

"What do you want, Sharza?" the battlemage asked with strained patience.

"What? That is how you greet Sharza? Do'Ravier doesn't think that might be rude?" she demanded, popping her head out of her hood in ire. Sibylla and Bann-Je cast sideways glances at each other.

"Hello, Sharza. Do'Ravier knows you do not just show up out of nowhere for no reason. So what trouble did you get yourself into now?"

"Do'Ravier, you don't believe Sharza wouldn't just miss her old life long friend and go visit the lout that almost married her long dead baby sister?" the thief protested.

"No."

"Ohh...very well, you're right, Sharza is in trouble." she pouted.

"I knew it." Do'Ravier grumbled with a sigh.

"Sharza! Where have you been, it's good to see you." Sibylla greeted, clamping the Khajiit in a tight hug. The cat woman giggled with happiness.

"Sibylla, don't encourage her." Do'Ravier grumbled under his breath.

"Oh hush, you're just mad that...what is that?"the Nord blurted, suddenly noticing something outside her door. She promptly dropped Sharza.

"Oh yes, before Sharza tells her troubles, she should probably tell you that you have problems of your own. No, Sharza did not bring this one, she does not know where that came from." the Khajiit defended herself quickly.

They all crowded outside the door to witness something they were not quite sure what to place. In fact, none of it made sense but the fact that they were all seeing it confirmed that it was no mirage. It was something quite out of a nightmare.

Thick, wet and speckled with various spots of green shades was an enormous creature that moved along the sands on a slimy monopod. Six massive stalks emerged from three protrusions that intersected into its main body. When the three raised their heads, they unveiled gaping maws with multiple rows of teeth.

"Is that...a giant demonic slug?" Do'Ravier sputtered.

"With three heads?" Sibylla demanded.

"Ah, that's what the voice in my head told me about." Bann-Je said, now content to know that the voices in his head were not completely crazy.

"Sharza thinks its headed this way." the thief observed.

"Bann-Je, get Maruut and his wife and get them in here, that storeroom would get engulfed by it's bulk!" Do'Ravier ordered. The closer it got, the more they realized it was about as tall as the first story of the tower and each head protrusion was just as wide as their bastion. How could such a thing exist?

"May Sharza suggest a lot of salt?"

"Do'Ravier highly doubts salt is going to solve this problem."

The occupants of the tower scurried to round everyone up into it's hold and quickly worked to bolt the doors. They knew not where their enemy came from, nor its purpose or how it was even made. None of this mattered, their hands were forced and now they were under siege.