Fahiil

Thera

Vampires masquerading as skooma dealers. The idea was entertainingly new to me, merely tricking the moronic mortals into knocking themselves out surrounded by Vampires in desperate need of a food source. Bal's blood-spring was a source of great power, granting greater strength to the Vampires who drank deep from its depths and infecting any human foolish enough to drink directly from its red waters. But it was not blood; it did not feed.

As I strangled the life out of the receptionist for the Skooma den, I couldn't help but smile. I had secretly devoured all of her... "customers" before turning my fangs upon the Dunmer herself. The Skooma in the customers had given their blood a very nice kick going down. It burned pleasantly in the throat. "Wh-what are you?" the Dunmer receptionist begged even while my grip on her throat tightened.

"Oh, a little bit of Vampire, a little bit of Daedra. Far above standard fare, you know," I explained. I grinned widely, my extended fangs dragging across my tongue as I licked my lips.

"A Vampire? Then why not... help us?" the Dunmer asked. She was quaking as she struggled to hold onto consciousness.

I shook my head and snickered. "And pledge myself to a weakling who relies on Skooma to dominate mortals?" I chortled derisively. "A Daughter of Colharbour would never stoop so low." And with that, I grabbed the woman by her hair and tore her head from her shoulders. Blood erupted into the air. I put my open jaw above the wound that continued to spurt out the crimson liquid and hungrily drank it all down. I sighed contentedly as the blood stopped flowing and I had my fill. "Delicious."

After the rush from devouring the woman's blood ended, I sighed in annoyance and drew my blades. It was time for me to make my way through the Skooma den and kill everything. Honestly, given how weak any I fought seemed when compared to me, it was a chore. A task meant for one lower than me.

As it was, I quickly tore my way through the mine and ruins. Any that I came upon fell to my blades and fangs amidst the sounds of their own screams. The lowly, diseased rats that had taken over the Blood Spring shrieked in pain as they were torn to shreds by my skill. It turned out that Vampire blood, while not nutritious, had its own delicious kick as well. I would have to make a point of seeking out the lowly dregs of my kind and mixing their blood into that taken from other cattle. A "4E 202 Volkiharis," if you will.

I effortlessly deflected the incoming blow from the head Vampire of the little coven I had stumbled upon. He stumbled backwards, grimacing. I yawned while I approached him. "Why would a Vampire attack us!?" the fool begged as he tried to attack me again. I flicked my wrist up and his sword glanced off of my weapon. "What are you!?"

I smiled and shook my head. I closed my eyes and blocked the weakling's clumsy attack. "I am so much more, fool," I told him. I opened my eyes and decided to show him. "Watch..." My skin bled from every pore, causing the Vampire to stumble backwards in fear. When the outer flesh of my body exploded outward, melting into droplets of blood in the air, he screamed in primal fear.

I glided above the ground towards him. His sword clattered against the ground as he turned heel and attempted to flee. Fool. In a flash of black, I was before the weakling; I had glided around him as a swarm of bats. He ran right into my open claw. I opened my maw to gloat, but only the squeak of a bat came out. More threatening, of course, than a mere squeak. Really.

I coughed and shook my grey head. "There," I growled, my voice like the sound of murder. The Vampire – if it were even right to call him that – squirmed in fear within my grip. "Much better."

The Vampire's eyes widened and he struggled against my claw, which only caused the talons on my fingers to claw through his skin. "Don't struggle," I told the weakling, but he wouldn't listen. "It will all be over soon." Red energy began to grow around my hand, and the Vampire in my claw could only stare in horror as the red light began to drench his face. A moment later, the energy exploded around his skull and whatever life had remained in his bones was gone. I tossed the husk aside and turned to the final door. I concentrated my will, and golden energy tore the doors from their hinges to reveal the Blood Spring.

I drifted through the air towards the red water and allowed my body to fall to the ground. The red waters seemed to rise up to me before I even touched it, begging to be one with me. I forcefully pulled my second skin back together, a process involving no small amount of pain. As it finished, I grabbed the cruel looking Bloodstone Chalice from my pack and lowered it to the waters. As it filled, a Magickal barrier suddenly appeared upon it. I tipped the chalice over. Whatever water flowed from it was instantly replaced, an infinite supply of cursed power.

"Interesting," a Nord's voice came. I glanced upward in distaste. Harkon's liuetenant – the one I didn't kill – walked in. What was his name? Something with an r and h and f in series. The one I killed was... Vingalmo? Yes, that sound about right. "I knew when you killed Vingalmo that you would make a powerful ally."

I smiled and placed the Chalice on the ground. "What is it you want, Nord?" I asked.

He snarled for a moment, then coughed his throat. "You may not know me. I am Orthjolf." I chuckled to myself. Four consonants in a row, I had been close. "I am Lord Harkon's lieutenant. I wanted to thank you for killing my rival."

"Yes, well he was weak," I explained. I smiled disgustedly. "All it took was a single swipe of my blade to kill him."

"Indeed. You are strong," Orthjolf responded. He held his arm out. "Which is why I believe we would make excellent allies. Harkon will not rule forever.

I laughed to myself. Who did this human think he was? "I will pass, human," I stated. I picked up the Chalice in my left hand and walked forward. I began to lie. "I won't tell Harkon if you don't do anything stupid. Well, anything else stupid."

"Well, I can't have that risk, can I?" Orthjolf asked as I neared him. More Vampires jumped out from the secondary entrance into the Blood Spring. An ambush? More than I expected from the weak mind of a Nord. Though, perhaps an immortal Nord had studied more than his foolish brethren.

I sighed. "You did not bring enough allies," I explained after counting my enemies. Ten, with Orthjolf as well. Eleven, then. My blade flashed out from its sheathe before any of the Vampires could react. Five fell before they could even draw their weapons. Another three before they could track me with their eyes. The last two ended up accidentally killing each other in an attempt to do so to me. I stopped and raised my blade to Orthjolf's throat. The Nord's teeth were chattering in fear. "Well, I was hoping you would have posed a challenge for me to dominate before I killed Harkon. But it would seem I was wrong."

"If you wish to kill him, I can help you..." Orthjolf said, trying to reason his way out of death.

"You truly believe that?" I asked. I laughed cruelly. "You are nothing. A worm. Less than dirt. Harkon would kill you in a moment. Having your aid would be worth less than having no aid at all." I stabbed forward. My blade buried itself in Orthjolf's throat. "And now, you're dead as well. Pity." I pulled my weapon from his throat and sheathed it. I took a sip from the Bloodstone Chalice. "Hm... delicious." Then I stepped over Orthjolf's gurgling, dying body and into the night.

Jul

Lucius

Markarth was eerily quiet as Serana and I entered. The only noise was the wind that whistled between the buildings, only adding to the ambient terror resulting from the worrisome lack of any other noise. There seemed to be a foul smoke running through the air, a shadow that hovered between this Plane and another. Serana seemed most shaken by the foul Magick in the atmosphere, as if it was disturbingly familiar to her. Despite the fact that it was bad Serana had been incapable of stealing the Elder Scroll when she ran away, he was suddenly incredibly glad that it was not present in the city with them.

It was obvious that the power of a Daedra flowed freely from its realm and into Markarth, and corruptions of reality were made abundantly clear. The moons in the sky were shattered, when just outside the city we had seen them shining and whole. The stars were blacked out, devoid of light. That I could still use Magicka told me that, despite this, we were still present in a world with stars and the sun.

"This isn't right," Serana whispered worriedly. She looked around. "Even one daughter of Coldharbour... the hunger at birth is beyond ravenous. The streets should be lined with corpses."

"Maybe they all escaped?" I suggested. That just earned a dry glance from the woman at my side. "Yes, I know, 'wishful thinking.'"

"Someone must have moved the bodies," Serana whispered. She knelt down and traced her finger along the ground. I cringed when she placed it into her mouth. "Yeah, definitely dried blood."

"Um, ew," I began, "on every front. Also, was it a Daedra?"

"Was it Molag Bal, you mean?" Serana sked as she stood up. She turned to me and shook her head. "He wouldn't come back to an empty city for seconds. He notices us, but... as long as we don't have to fight anyone he won't care. The bloodshed and domination of battle would, unfortunately, draw him in."

"So that is how we will bring our Prince to us!" a voice cried out.

I grimaced and turned around. "Well, Serana, I hope us killing these Forsworn won't attract him, because it's that or die," I said while I glared up at the contingent of wild, Daedra worshiping half-Bretons. They were wild, each of them, with insane rage behind every pair of eyes.

History went that Markarth used to be populated by Breton-Nord half-breeds. Up until the end of the 3E, the city was ruled peacefully by the Nord Jarls who had ruled over it since ancient eras, but tensions rose more and more through the first half of the 4E. Nords and Half-breeds began to fight because of how the city reacted during the Oblivion Crisis. The Half-Breeds had always been Daedra worshipers, a tacitly accepted open secret in the Reach, and they took great offense towards their gods being assaulted by the Nord soldiers. Once the Great War broke out, the group that would come to be known as the Forsworn made their move, only to be defeated by Ulfric shortly after. The even that ignited the civil war. And now they were lords of an empty city...

"Please, fight us so our Prince may see our domination of the strong," the lead Forsworn begged. A Briarheart gleamed from a gaping hole in his chest, making his continuing life as much a result of Daedric influence as the woman who stood by me. I glared up at the veritable army before us. "We would spare you no mercy in either case."

I let my gaze fall slightly as I pulled up my Mage's hood. "If you want to die," I stated threateningly, "you are as allowed to fall by my blade as any. Enough mortal blood has been spilled here that I will allow you this one chance to turn away from assured destruction" Light danced across my eyes as I looked back up at the army. "By Talos, I hope you take it, because fighting Molag Bal is not an appealing prospect."

The Forsworn Briarheart stood silent for a moment. The crowds of half-mad Men behind him stood quiet and waiting for the command of their warpriest. The Briarheart glared down at me and laughed dryly. "Kill them."

I sighed and shook my head. "Wrong move," I whispered. I drew my sword as arrows began to rain down on us, and Dawnbreaker glimmered hungily. Serana tensed up. "Don't run. Wait."

I sensed that she froze in place. She trusted me. I smiled and glared up at the wall of metal and wood raining down upon us. "Fus Ro Dah!" I screamed. The green energy erupted from my lungs, a wall of force that caused arrows to shatter or reverse their course to rain down like death upon their original masters. Members of the Forsworn contingent screamed in pain as the arrows pierced their flesh and rent their souls from their bodies.

"By Bal..." Serana cursed behind me. The Thu'um, the first time one sees it, is a humbling power. Primordial Magick can more easily and more widely alter Nirn than the scalpel of a mage's spell.

I walked towards the opposing force, now nearly halved in a single move. "Then let us wage battle," I stated simply. Then I rushed forward, my blade already buried hilt deep in the chest of a Forsworn warrior. I shouted, "Serana, it's time to fight!"

I heard a whisper of cloth before the battle truly began, and Serana's dagger was sticking out from the eye of another Forsworn, accompanied quickly by a spike of Frost.

I turned my attention from Serana's battles and back to my own. I quickly spun away from the Forsworn I had just killed, pulling my blade from her chest as I twirled into the decapitation of another enemy. It wasn't long until I was crossing blades with the Briarheart himself. "You cannot stand against the will of of a god!" the Briarheart snapped. His headdress, the emptied skull of a deer, visibly removed whatever little humanity he had left. "You cannot stand against us!"

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing," I responded, the twinkle of the Aedra in my eyes. I smiled and laughed threateningly. "You should back off before the claws of this dragon tear you to shreds."

The Briarheart merely snarled in response before pulling away and slashing at my head again. I blocked the wolf-tooth sword as it came close to my skull, shattering a segment of the weapon's jagged blade against the flat of Meridia's saber. The semi-undead creature hissed in pain as the enchantment of Dawnbreaker strained to return the heartless – literally – creature to its natural state. Fires danced across his body and he jumped back to escape the fires I had cast upon him.

"Where are your Hagravens? I was hoping for an actual challenge," I spat as he retreated. I shot a fireball at him, but he jumped to the side. The orb of flames sailed past him, exploding in the midst of his comerades and sending their souls screaming to whatever Daedric Prince to whom they had sworn fealty. "And you going to keep sidestepping spells? It seems to be helping my friend over there more than its helping yours." The Briarheart screamed and jumped towards me. I brought up Dawnbreaker to deflect his sword, and the weapon flew away through the air. It was then I realized what a stupid mistake I had made, for the man's body collided with my own.

His fingers were wrapped around my throat before we even hit the ground, the heavy weight of my Daedric armor crashing down atop me. I couldn't summon the concentration to summon a spell to my hand and save myself, so I could only struggle against his iron grip on my throat with my own clawed gauntlets. The crazed "Madman of the Reach" ignored the metal digging gashes into his flesh and stared down from behind the eyes of a deer. I gripped at his fingers, trying to tear them open. He didn't even notice when one of them was sliced clean off by the talon-like fingers of my armor. "Die!" he hissed. I vainly slapped again at his wrist as the blackness began to encroach on my vision.

Then, suddenly, the pressure on my throat disappeared. I groaned as the wight of the Briarheart collapsed against my chest, nearly blacking out completely. Somehow, though, I was able to hold on to consciousness and see the spike of ice that had flown through his skull. Serana. I smiled and shoved the Briarheart off of my chest. "Thanks," I said, just loud enough to be heard over the screams of the fleeing Forsworn.

"Oh, you're welcome, luv."

My blood froze and I looked up at the source of the voice, a woman standing atop a bridge between two of the buildings above. She was holding Serana, unconscious, by her hair. An ornate, enchanted Daedric dagger was pressed against the Vampire's throat, ready to engulf her in flames at the slightest twitch. "I was hoping you were dead," I told her captor.

The Redguard laughed, a pleasing, if hollow, peal that echoed through the dead city. She looked down at me with wild eyes that conveyed no soul was within. Eyes I had once looked out from. She was an incredibly attractive woman, which was why I had chosen her so long ago. Redguard makes for a more exotic air, something incredibly useful for assassinations where you need to infiltrate a castle. She wore unassuming robes of deep black that were, undoubtedly, charged with enchantments nearly as strong as the ones on my armor. From her shoulders dangled a tattered cloak, glowing with an enchantment I had placed on it. The only time that enchantment had ever been placed, in fact. And it only worked once, for each wielder. "You still wear my mother's cloak, so it isn't what saved you from the fire," I said simply. I crouched and retrieved Dawnbreaker from the ground, my eyes never leaving her. "Let her go."

The Reguard raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. "This creature here?" she asked. The dagger pressed harder against the Vampire's throat, and she woke up. Serana struggled uselessly against the woman and her skin erupted in flames. Serana screamed in pain as the enchantment continued to bathe her skin in pain until the knife was pulled away. A thin line of red began to grow and leak blood down her pale throat. "Now, now, the Ayleid I knew would never have asked that. Oblivion, he wouldn't have even asked."

"My name is Lucius," I told the Redguard, cold fury in my voice. "Let her go."

"Ah, the name you were given before you realized what you are. You took it again when you forgot your place?" the Redguard spat. She lowered the blade to Serana's throat again and the Vampire's eyes widened in fear. "Lucius, you know why I am here?"

"To reclaim Ayleid for the Council," I replied calmly. I wanted so badly to kill the Redguard in front of me, without remorse. It pains me to say it, but she awakened in me a person I thought I had put to sleep long ago. I wanted to burn her to ash, as I had failed to do so long ago. I wanted to cause her pain. "You won't, Tanyin."

She snarled. "Tanyin was a mask. I am Dwemer."

Jul 7 Eruvos Vod

Ayleid

Nightmares had begun to plague me. For the first time in almost half a decade, I had dreams. If you have dreams, you have them commonly. Dreams when rarely seen have meaning; these Dreams are more than mere dreams. They are visions, words of the Aedra to be placed upon those with, as the Nords called it, Doom. According to Magickal theory, at least.

I was weak, struggling to even survive the training I was being put through daily by the Lords. Sleepless nights and days began to compound, destroying my usefulness to the Lords. If I did not regain my mettle soon, the Lords would put me down like the cur that I was. And yet, I still couldn't do it. I could not kill, I could not maim, I could not do as the Lords asked of me.

So as I laid down after a night in the Breeding Rooms, as commanded by the Lords, I was... sad. "Tanyin," I whispered. I had been in the Breeding Rooms with her; we were the strongest stock for the next generation of servants for the Lords. She had been so... so bright before then, as I once had been. Human life held meaning for her, a weakness and lie perpetuated by the human curs who had birthed us. But that was what had caught my eye, that purity, that... humanity. Beyond the obvious tactical reasons for partnering with her, of course. Exotic, clever, strong, Magickal – all were useful tools of an assassin. I hissed to myself "No, not Tanyin. Dwemer." Human names are false – humans cannot have names. Names are for superior beings, such as the elves. We are merely their servants, named for exterminated elves, those less than even humans.

When sleep finally came, I was not greeted by the scenes I had created in the weeks before. I was not greeted by fire and blood and death and Vampire and murder. I was greeted by light. The souls I had caused such suffering stared at me, calm. Sad, but... happy. Behind them stood the shapes of order that characterized Magicka, the purest form. Aetherius. Then it hit me – humans. Humans were in Aetherius.

I gasped in pain, trying to wake up. The Mer had lied to me. They had gotten me to give up on my humanity, on mercy. They had – I had enjoyed murder, or tried to trick myself into it. I had been a monster. I still didn't awaken.

I don't remember, clearly, what finally woke me up. I doubt that I ever will. What I do remember is that, when I did wake up, I was certain Talos existed. A Man who had become... more. Assured that the choice I had been struggling to make was right, I finally grabbed a blade and I ran.