The Vigilants of Stendarr V
The marsh was quiet. Too quiet. The only thing Falrielle could hear was the sound of the water swishing beneath her boots, and Sven's breathing.
'Calm yersel' doon,' she said. 'Yer hert is beating lik e drum.'
'What?' Sven yelped.
'Calm yourself down,' she repeated. 'Your heart is beating like a drum.'
'Sorry, Mentor.' The bit his lip and continued, 'Are you sure Brother-Vigilant Gideon won't hit us?'
Falrielle smiled. 'Positive.' She lifted her head and sniffed. While a Wood Elf's sense of smell is sharper than a human's, Falrielle's was a cut above the rest. She closed her eyes and sniffed again, concentrating. She smelled the musk of scavenging foxes, the sulphurous odour of the waters, the pungent aroma of rotting plants, and the brine of mudskippers and crabs. She nearly gagged when she caught a whiff of pitch. She raised a hand. 'We're here.'
Falrielle bit her finger and then held her arm out, letting the blood trickle into the water. The first drops sent ripples across the still marsh. The second drops sent the leeches and the fishes into a feeding frenzy, thrashing about sending specks of water and mud on Falrielle. The third drops made the air heavy. Very heavy.
'Initiate,' she said as she unhooked Bite from her belt. 'Do you feel the change in the air? Like your head is squeezed between an iron vice? That's magicka and all creatures of the arcane emit them. Remember this feeling – this one belongs to vampires.'
The silence returned though this time, it returned with a smothering presence. Falrielle caught the whiff of death in the air and tightened her grip. She perked her ears, listening to somethings moving amongst the reeds and in the water. She counted at least twenty – a small horde enough to slaughter a village. Falrielle spun her mace, feeling her wrist limber up for the fight. Any moment now, she told herself. Any moment now…
'Look!' Sven said, pointing straight up. Balls of fire like comets screamed across the misty sky. Falrielle counted nine – no, ten of them and they were all flying towards them. Falrielle grimaced. Gideon always did like to be thorough when he worked – just like she trained him.
'Keep your head down!' Falrielle grabbed Sven and shoved him to the ground. 'Cover your-'
The order came too late. Like lightning from the heavens, the fireballs crashed into the earth and exploded with a deafening bang. What followed was an eerie silence, then a blast of air so hot and so powerful, that were it any hotter or stronger it'll flay the skin off a man. After a moment, Falrielle's hearing returned though it was no blessing.
The loud crackling of the flames gave her a throbbing headache and the light did her no favours. Falrielle gritted her teeth and rose, focusing on the number of breaths. Twenty-two… Twenty-three…
Falrielle detected the unmistakable scent of burning flesh and readied herself. 'Up,' she said, pulling Sven from the ground. 'If you have to die, die on your feet. Die fighting. Die like a true Nord!'
Twenty-six… Twenty-seven…
They're here.
An emaciated creature, tore from the burning reeds and lunged at Falrielle. She couldn't get a clear look at the creature, her eyes barely worked in the best of days, though she did see a faint shadow, a translucent mirror image of the creature shooting out and pawing for her throat.
Falrielle pivoted, feeling the creature following the shadow's movements and slashed the air. The shadow moved again, clawing upwards and Falrielle leaned back. The creature followed the shadow, unable to stop itself and its momentum carried its body dangerously high. The Vigilant twisted her shoulder and swung Bite downwards, smashing the creature's head like a gourd. Its headless body crashed into the mud but it kept fighting, clawing wildly at nothing in particular. It is known to vampire hunters that Bloodfiends are quite difficult to kill when compared to their regular, more sane brethren. It wasn't because of any particular adaptation or mutation to their form – they were just like cockroaches and are to be dealt in the same manner: A hard stomp.
The Vigilant freed her leg when more of the mad creatures emerged from the bushes. Some looked fresh; teeth bared sure, but they still had their clothes and hair. Others, hideous aberrations with a menagerie of fangs, suckers, stingers, and talons. Falrielle smirked bitterly – whatever they were now, they were unmistakably elves in their previous lives. A pair came for her while another ran for the Initiate.
'Sven!' Falrielle shouted, barely parrying a slash from a Bloodfiend whose jaw was missing. She tried to shove her way through but these vampires were especially keen for her blood. She looked on in horror as one of them leaned in over the boy, its jaw distending like a snake's.
Sven, no, his shadow moved for his axe. Sven followed and then in one quick motion, smashed the head of the axe at the creature's face, knocking it to its side. The Initiate rolled free and stood on his feet, axe ready.
Falrielle had the urge to smile in pride but one of the Bloodfiends shrieked and she answered with a swift boot to the ribs. The vermin doubled over, foolishly presenting its head for Bite's bloody kiss. The creature however was too close to make a proper strike. Falrielle reached over and grabbed it by the waist. Then, with all her might, she hoisted the creature high and slammed the Bloodfiend, headfirst into the ground. Falrielle caught herself grinning from the song of battle-fever that playing in her heart.
She rolled back as a shadow pounced from her flank. A heartbeat later, a Bloodfiend trailed the shadow's lead and Falrielle spun, swinging Bite and smashing her would-be attacker's head. Her body moved and she found her fist connecting to the temple of a particularly sneaky vampire. Her attack was imprecise and slipped but Falrielle followed with a precise knee to the chin. Before she could deliver the finishing blow, another tackled her, bringing both to the ground.
Falrielle twisted and turned until she was on top of the creature. The Bloodfiend shot its stinger but it only chinked her breastplate. She seized its tongue with one hand and with the other, pounded its head again and again, laughing as she did. Then with her free hand braced in the creature's eye socket, she pulled hard, feeling nerve and muscle slowly rip. The creature screamed and steamed with yellow haze before the tongue tore itself free.
She stood up, gruesome trophy in hand and roared. Falrielle could taste blood – her blood in her mouth. For a moment she wondered if she had been wounded before realising that she had just bit her tongue in her frenzy. When three Bloodfiends charged at her, Falrielle bent low in a feral stance, demanding that they give her a fight.
Golden sparks danced between the vampires. The creatures erupted in blinding flame, melting skin and searing flesh. Falrielle watched as the creatures stumbled forwards before blowing away as ashes in the wind. She was furious. She turned, demanding to know who dares? Who dares to steal her kill? She glanced around and found Gideon, firing more spells, incinerating Bloodfiends before they could close in.
Falrielle heard a deep whoosh sound, followed by a pained shriek. She spun; weapon ready only to find a Bloodfiend with an axe embedded in its back. She stomped the creature's head; its weakened head giving way to her boot and retrieved the weapon. It was Sven's.
Where was the boy? Where was Sven?
His screams answered her question. A pack of the creatures had pinned the Initiate and Falrielle smelled his blood in the air. She pointed at him and barked, 'Gideon!'. The mage immediately understood and fired a beam of light, burning away the vampires.
She found Sven bleeding and whimpering but she knew he'll live.
'On your feet, Vigilant!' she said as she pulled him up. 'The fight's not over. We-'
Falrielle's ears twitched.
She emerged from the darkness, her figure almost seemingly made from the smoke and the mist. Falrielle caught Sven staring, mouth agape although she couldn't blame him. She was beautiful, very and inhumanly beautiful. Her petite face and loose white dress were too dainty to be in the heart of the marsh. Her skin was almost as pale as Falrielle's but her hair was long and lustrously dark. Through the chaos of battle, Falrielle caught a whiff of her scent, chrysanthemums, and groaned. Sven took a step forward with an entranced expression on his face though a quick whistle was enough to bring him back to reality.
'Stay back,' Falrielle said. 'This one is not like fighting Bloodfiends.'
'Mentor?' Sven raised his weapon.
'Fall back and help Gideon,' she said. 'Deal with the rest of the Bloodfiends. Keep them off me. I'll handle this one.'
Sven hesitated before nodding and doing what he was told to do, clumsily sploshing in the water. Falrielle took in a deep breath, feeling the very air vibrate in her lungs.
'You've a taste for elves, dinnae you?'
The woman in white smiled pleasantly.
'I dinnae suppose,' she began. 'I've bumped into the Pale Lady of legend, have I?'
The woman shook her head.
'Pity.' Falrielle shrugged, and brought Bite to her shoulder. 'I was hoping to meet a celebrity – add another trophy to my collection.' She flashed an evil smile. 'But I suppose you'll do.' She bent low. 'Let's go!'
The two lunged. Falrielle swung Bite down while the Bann brought her talons up. A shadow made for Falrielle's neck and the elf dodged, but not fast enough. The Bann tore a gash across Falrielle's cheek though Falrielle's own attack found no purchase, only swinging at air.
Falrielle spun, avoiding a folly up that would've eviscerated her if she was even a heartbeat too slow and parried another slash that made overbalanced her. With elven grace, Falrielle allowed the force to carry her in a pirouette and like a quintain turned and struck with a satisfying crunch.
When the Bann drew in breath, Falrielle disengaged and rolled aside. The creature let out a shriek so powerful that her voice alone smashed a tree into splinters. Falrielle wiped the mud off her face and readied Bite but the vampire was gone. She raised her head and sniffed. The vampire was still here, just a sabrecat amongst the reeds.
The Vigilant pricked her ears up and listed. She heard Sven scream in righteous fury. Gideon's spells crackled and exploded. Bloodfiends howling in hunger and madness. The fires roaring with rage and the stream flowing peacefully. The frogs, the toads, the crickets singing beyond. She heard all of them and silenced them with a thought. She exhaled and listened. Listened for… leathery wings?
Falrielle threw a hand to her left and bent her fingers into a warding gesture. She focused on an image in her mind; a solid brick wall, a barrier between her and her foe, and held her breath. From the tip of her fingers, a shimmering wall of light, like ice materialised. Right on time.
Water, mists, smoke, reeds, and Falrielle herself recoiled as if hit by a battering ram. Her shoulders still ached when the Bann swooped down having foregone its disguise in favour of its natural form; that of a giant demonic bat. The shadow darted and Falrielle jumped aside, narrowly missing a swipe that would've took out her eyes. The Bann grinned widely, proudly showing off her needle like teeth before veering up into the sky, laughing.
She tracked the creature, Bite at the ready. Thrice the Bann dove for an attack and thrice Falrielle repelled the vampire but neither could make a decisive blow. Falrielle managed to clip the vampire but Bite was a mace, not a sword and a mace needed more than clips to do any real damage. In return, the vampire made several glancing blows at the Vigilant, the worst of it dented Falrielle's breastplate and sent her stumbling on her heels.
The Vigilant pumped out her chest in a taunt, and the vampire hissed and charged. The Bann screamed and the Vigilant raised a ward. The force was much greater than before and Falrielle found herself slowly sinking into the mud. The Bann advanced, not as swiftly as an arrow loosed from a bow but just as deadly.
Falrielle shuddered. She was never particularly good with magic, not even with wards but holding the Bann's scream back was like fighting a hurricane. However, like a hurricane, Falrielle knew there was an end to this and her brick wall will persevere. She just… needed… to… hold – There.
Falrielle dropped her ward as soon as the Bann stopped screaming and began swinging Bite in an uppercut. The shadow dodged the attack and so did the vampire, who did so with an additional laugh. Falrielle answered by releasing her mace and firing a well-timed cross. Her silver-studded fist found solid purchase in the Bann's jaw, sending the creature careening through the mud.
She smirked and cracked the knuckles. Falrielle strolled over, playfully bouncing Bite on her shoulder. Before she could bring Bite down, smashing the Bann's head into wondrous gore, she saw the shadowy outline of the Bann move.
Too late.
The vampire turned and howled a macabre tune. Falrielle reflexively raised a hand though not fast enough to summon a ward. The scream hit her hard, knocking the wind out of her, crushing her bones, pierced her ears, and rattled her brain. The Vigilant flew backwards for a good ten paces and landed on her back.
Falrielle rasped and writhed like a fish out of water before turning over to puke. She forced herself to her feet, stumbling as flashes of black, white, and red filled her vision. She puked again or rather heaved and squinted her eyes, trying to find her quarry amidst the spinning world. Was this it, she asked herself? Would this finally be her hour?
A clawed hand, as cold as death, seized Falrielle by the hair and her back, exposing her neck. Glancing up, Falrielle saw not the monstrous bat but the beautiful maiden again. The maiden grinned, baring her fangs before sinking them in the elf's neck. Warm blood soaked her shirt as she struggled; punching, kicking, wriggling – anything to break free from the vampire's grasp though she knew it was futile. Vampires like Banns were far stronger than a human.
The Bann suddenly spasmed in agony and loosened its fingers off Falrielle's hair. The elf spun, took careful aim and dealt a precise blow, crushing the vampire's throat. The vampire fell back, clutching its throat and foamed dark red in the mouth – the Sunfire's effect taking hold.
'Fuck! Did ye hae tae bite sae deep?' Falrielle feeling her wound. 'Ah hae tae git bloody stitches fur thae. Wi' needles! Ah hate needles!'
The vampire choked in response.
'Whitevur.' Falrielle reached for her boot, pulled out her knife, and ran her fingers over the blade. 'Ye knae, A've ne'er killed a Bann afore.' She smiled. 'Thanks fur bein' me first!'
She giggled and stabbed.
Name(s): Bann or Dame Crieuse or Bean a' Caoineadh
Classification: True Vampire
Province(s): High Rock, Skyrim
Average Height: Varies (In disguise), 5ft 8in (In True Form)
Average Length: Varies (In disguise), 6ft 10in (In True Form)
Average Weight: Varies (In disguise), 130lbs (In True Form)
Quick Description: Powerful type of vampire. Can disguise themselves as dark-haired, human or elven maidens dressed in white. True form that of a humanoid bat with sharp claws and fangs. Can use voice to enthral victims. Can scream to kill.
Extended Commentary:
The first collected folklore of Banns hails from the province of Cyrodiil. Ironic, considering that there have been no Bann sightings in the Imperial heartlands ever since the end of the 1st Era, no doubt the work of the bloodsuckers of the Unseen Court. The tales and legends of Banns vary but the core details of their origins are the same.
As the story goes, the first Bann was a farmer's wife, heavily pregnant with their firstborn. Their marriage however was not a happy one for their union was not only loveless but the husband also took to drink. As she carried, the farmer grew paranoid, suspecting that the child she bore was not his but another. Despite her protests, the farmer would not listen and one night, after drinking too many a cup, the farmer forced himself upon the woman, stabbing her in her stomach before leaving her to die on the floor of their house. With her dying breath, the woman cried out to the gods for vengeance. She called out to Nine and the Seventeen but only one answered, He Who Corrupts.
The woman rose as the first Bann and tore her husband limb from limb. After the kill, the black hunger took her and though she slurped up all of his gory remains, she felt no satisfaction, no satiation. Still ravenous, the Bann sniffed around, finding prey in the terrified farm animals but again, that was still not enough. She sniffed around for the third time and caught a strange, sweet scent. This one coming from within. Mad with hunger, the Bann reached for her own stomach, ripping it open to feed on babe which she sought vengeance for. Only after did she finish licking her fingers did she return to sense. Realising what she had done, the Bann cried out in frustration, her eerie voice echoing in the valley, the harbinger of a violent death.
Stories of the Bann often involve travellers or nocturnal village folk encountering beautiful, pale maidens with long-dark hair wandering about in the light of Secundus. They would also say ladies also carry upon them the aroma of chrysanthemums or plumerias. The people in these stories, usually young men, would find themselves entranced by the supernatural beauty of these creatures before they froze in terror as the maidens would transform into a monstrous form with fangs, wings, and talons as they tore them apart.
Separating truth from fiction is an arduous task, like shifting saw dust from flour with a roll of paper. Some are easy, like the superstition of never allowing things like dogs barking or clothes to hang outside overnight – no doubt a measure to ensure a restful sleep and to avoid tempting the village pervert, respectively, some aspects of the Bann are more difficult to cipher. However, thanks to the tireless work of our predecessors like Senior-Vigilant Gilen Mandavu and the independent hunter Salzaarthi Camon, we do have some clear facts of the Bann.
Their famous disguise of pale women or or she-elves with long, dark hair, wearing white funeral gowns are true. No other descriptions have been reported. It is unknown if it is mere coincidence that Banns have the same fashion sense, or that they're all brunettes, or if the Bann's strain of vampirism would induce such a mutation but what matters to us is that they're disguise is consistent. Also like in the stories, the overpowering scent of chrysanthemums or plumerias herald their presence, so it would do one well to familiarise themselves with what those flowers actually smell like. When these parasites are ready to feed, bones snap, skin tears, as the talons, fangs, and the wings reveal themselves, making them resemble giant bats. Their appearance nonetheless cannot be mistaken with Giant Bats for their mishappen faces and bodies still bear some remnants of their disguised forms as can be referred to in following autopsy sketch by Senior-Vigilant Mandavu.
Banns are highly territorial, refusing to tolerate the presence of any other True Vampires in their domain. This also makes Banns rare, with the sporadic reported sightings of the creatures limiting themselves to the remote regions of High Rock and Skyrim. Banns have a supernatural need to dominate and are known to entice False Vampires, mortal thralls, and other dark creatures to their servitude. The most infamous of these was the Nameless Chieftess of Svartskög who enthralled villages for generations before the Dawnguard mounted her head on a spike.
Vigilants fighting Banns will have their skills tested to their limits. Banns are fast, vicious, and messy eaters and have no issue with feasting on ragged scraps off their talons. Their uncanny ability to fly gives them unappareled control of the fight. Banns also have magical voices, whose whispers unheard yet still felt by the ears require the strongest of wills to resist lest they be charmed and whose shriek carries the strength to send a pack horse flying. They however are not without weaknesses.
Banns with their need to dominate, will never back down from a challenge no matter how futile it may seem. This makes them straightforwardly predictable and easy to goad into making mistakes. Banns attack and only attack. Vigilants only need endure before the parasites make an opening for a counterstrike. Mages may set up mental barriers to ward off the creature's attempt to charm but if magic is not an option; hard, practiced meditations will train the mind and even if that is not possible, a pint of Thunderkeg Ale or anything strong will provide some mental shielding. Regarding their infamous shouts, a solid barrier is the safest option, followed by a ward. Banns like all Undead are weak to fire and the use of holy water, either as a weapon coating or projectile is also effective. Silver as always. Frost magics are useless and so are poisons.
Stendarr be kind, Banns rarely spread the curse of vampirism. It's their territorial nature. They would rather kill than risk the propagation of a rival vampire.
~ Excerpt from Codex Vigilas: Bestiary: Vampires: Banns by Senior-Vigilant Isran, Master of Wards