A/N: So, having gotten bored and playing with the Live Another Life mod, I decided to see what happened if you decided to start with the Vigilants. This story follows a Vigilant (not Dovah, because every MC being the Last Dragonborn is boring) during the events of the Dawnguard. One who is not only livid, but has a burning hate for vampires. It does not adhere to canon and in fact, it's built around the Vampire Knight mod.

Nierembergia

Summary: She hated vampires after the Hall of the Vigilants burned. Joining the Dawnguard to eradicate every last bloodsucker made sense. Finding out that there was more to the vampires' schemes wasn't part of her plan for revenge, but they'll burn just the same.

*Chapter 1*

Isran hated softness.

Softness got innocent people killed. It destroyed families, took away friends and lovers, and left despair in its wake. Those who chose to do nothing when the world cried out for help, he wanted nothing to do with. Weak. Soft. Cowards.

By the Divines, he hated it.

The Vigilants of Stendarr were one group that was indeed soft, compared to the threat they were going up against. The Order had been established after the Oblivion Crisis, over two centuries ago, but they focused mostly on daedra worshippers and rogue warlocks. Isran tried for years to warn them all that the imminent threat of a mass-vampire attack was coming, but every time his warnings were waved away with insulting laughter and comments how his paranoia had warped his mind, that Fort Dawnguard was a crumbling ruin and not worth the manpower or expense to repair.

Well, who was laughing now? Certainly not him. Even though he had left with biting words back then, he didn't hate the Vigilants. He clung on to the smallest of hopes that they would open their eyes and see the real threat was the vampire scum attacking Skyrim and her people every night. Skyrim needed the Dawnguard; anyone with a damn brain could see the threat the vampires posed to normal life.

Keeper Carcette wouldn't listen. Now, she was dead, as were the rest of the Vigilants present in the Hall.

The Redguard man stood in the center hall of Fort Dawnguard and folded his arms with a scowl as one of the Vigilants who survived, Tolan, thundered into the fort. The balding old Nord wore a set of steel plate gauntlets and boots with his light blue Vigilant robes and a heavy dwarven warhammer was strapped to his back. His amulet of Stendarr was worn proudly on display and Isran resisted rolling his eyes as the Vigilant came up to him.

"Isran, a word, please," he begged.

"Why are you here, Tolan? The Vigilants and I were finished a long time ago." Isran scoffed.

"Dammit Isran, you know why I'm here!" Tolan glared. "The Vigilants are under attack everywhere! It's not just relegated to the Pale; Brother Hafkir was murdered in the swamps just outside of Morthal and another one of our order has gone missing in the mountains of Haafingar. The vampires are a more dangerous enemy than we expected."

"And now that you've stirred them up against you, you came running away to seek safety with the Dawnguard. Is that it?" Isran spat. "I remember Keeper Carcette repeatedly telling me what a fool I was, that the vampires would be squashed under your boots like worms."

Tolan's head lowered and his hands balled into fists. "Isran...Carcette is dead! The Hall, everyone... they're all dead! You were right, we were wrong! Isn't that enough for you!?" His glare met Isran's, and the Redguard let out a heavy sigh.

"I never wanted this. I tried to warn you all. I'm... sorry, you know." Even after leaving them, even after everything that was said between him and Carcette and his belief they were too weak against real threats, he couldn't hate them. The Vigilants of Stendarr took him in after he lost his family to vampire cultists who worshipped Molag Bal, the daedric lord who gave mortalkind his 'gift' of vampirism. Their losses would not be for nothing.

Looking past Tolan, he saw the gates to Fort Dawnguard open again, and in stepped two individuals. One was a young blond Nord man in a green tunic and trousers, an old iron war axe dangling from his belt. The other was a hooded woman, clad in light blue mage robes and a set of steel gauntlets and boots, with a steel warhammer hanging over her shoulder. Another Vigilant, like Tolan, but Isran could tell something with her was off. The subtle glances to mark potential exit strategies, the way her hand clasped the handle of her hammer so tightly that her knuckles were bone white. She was tense, ready to spring into action the moment the situation called for it.

Maybe, this one would be different.

"You. Come forward." He motioned for her to come to him and she did so silently, not at once relaxing her grip on her weapon. When she was within conversational range, he looked her up and down and found little to be impressed with, at least on first glance. Vigilants were not known as particularly powerful combatants, mostly relying on weaker Destruction and Restoration spells to take down their foes.

The woman lowered her hood and he stepped back, as did Tolan.

The old Nord choked and uttered out a surprised squawk. "Elise!?"

She was young, barely old enough to join the damn army with her blonde hair tied into a bun yet letting several bangs fall across her face. She looked delicate, at least facially. Breton, if he had to guess. Her green eyes burned with rage and despair at losing her comrades, but she met his gaze evenly and to her credit didn't waver. "I heard you were looking for recruits."

Straightforward, blunt, and with more fire than what he was used to seeing from a Vigilant. "Got a fire in your belly to kill vampires?"

"I want revenge!" she spat. "I want to make every last one of them suffer for what they did." She had Stendarr's righteous anger burning in her heart, but fire needed to be controlled lest it destroyed everything in its path. The woman was a fighter through and through; Isran wasn't blind enough to not see it. But he had no idea what her skills were and before he could send her out on a mission, he needed to properly gauge her. No point in putting in effort if she was going to quake at the first sign of trouble or get herself killed.

"Elise, was it?" Isran asked. When the woman nodded, he folded his arms and laid out the facts. "I can appreciate anyone who is willing to give me a hand against these damn vampires. What I don't need are useless recruits who'll get themselves killed. Those who aren't made out for this work will get more innocent people killed with their recklessness. I need to see what you're made of."

"I survived the attack on the Hall. Isn't that enough?" Elise snarled.

"Luck is one thing. Survive a mission for me, and I'll see all that I need to for myself. If you pass, then you'll be a Dawnguard. Die and I'll know you'd have been of no use." Isran stared her down and her fiery gaze burned in anger. She looked seconds away from drawing her weapon and Tolan stepped in between them, shooting both of them a glare.

"Enough!" he roared. "We have enough problems without fighting amongst each other! Elise, while I'm glad to see you have survived, you need to understand that hunting vampires is much more dangerous than anything our order has ever gone up against. Daedra worshippers are nothing compared to these bloodsucking scum. Isran needs to know how much you can handle."

Elise hissed in irritation but she backed down, gritting her teeth. "Fine. What do you need me to do?"

"A vampire has been stalking Ivarstead. I have good men here, but they're needed in the fort while I rebuild the order. Your job is to kill the damn vampire before it enthralls the entire town. Be on your guard," Isran warned. "The law is unaware of the threat and the vampire will be casting its foul illusions to blend into society. Do it discreetly if you can."

Elise nodded coolly and turned around, ready to leave, when Isran called her back. "Take a look around the fort first and take whatever you need. There's not much, but you're welcome to whatever you can use. The armory is to your left at the far end of the main hall."

Elise didn't answer. The Breton quietly walked down towards the armory to get suited up and Isran finally let out a breath and turned to stare at the young blond man nervously shuffling back and forth. "You, boy! Stop skulking in the corner and get over here. What's your name?"

"M-my name is Agmaer, sir!" Like a scolded child he flinched and slowly approached, nervously eyeing Isran as the Redguard man snorted.

"Do I look like a sir to you, boy? I'm not a soldier, and you're not joining the damn army." Damn kids these days had no backbone. He supposed he couldn't help the boy being intimidated by him, especially since he witnessed a glaring contest between Isran himself and the possible new recruit. If Elise had half of the skill to back up her venom, he'd welcome her with open arms. If not, then he felt no need to dwell on it any more than it deserved.

"Yes, si- " The boy stopped, correcting himself. "Isran."

Isran rolled his eyes. "Didn't I tell you to step forward?" He could see the smears of dirt on his cheeks, the lean muscle of someone used to farm life, not battle. "Farm boy, eh? What's your weapon?"

Agmaer blinked stupidly. "My... weapon? I mostly just use my pa's axe, whenever wolves are attacking the goats or... something..."

"My pa's axe..." Isran tilted his head back and stared upwards at the giant hole in the middle of Fort Dawnguard's roof, looking up at the sun for answers. He found none and let out a bark of laughter. "Stendarr preserve us." The blond boy began to deflate and look at his feet shamefully, ears burning red. Isran stopped laughing and motioned for him to follow him. "Don't worry. We can make a Dawnguard out of you if you're willing to work for it."

"I am," Agmaer said determinedly, standing taller. "I'm here because I want to make a difference. I refuse to live in fear of the night." Isran bit back another snort of laughter. That was something he loved about Skyrim's people. The Nords hated running away from battle, refusing to run away even if terribly outnumbered. They may sometimes have gone too far in the pursuit of honor and glory, but when against a foe like vampires, all of that went out the window. They'd do whatever it took to win. The harshness of Skyrim had a way of revealing a man's true self.

"Here, take a crossbow. Let's see how you shoot." Isran shot Tolan a look that said to wait for him upstairs and the old Nord nodded slowly, turning right to go up the spiral staircase that led to the second floor of the fort. With him gone and Elise in the armory, he could give Agmaer a brief introduction into the training he so desperately needed if he were to survive in the Dawnguard.

"A crossbow?" Agmaer's eyes widened and he looked in confusion at the bulky wooden weapon Isran plucked from the top of a crate. "I, uh, I never shot..."

"Yes, a crossbow. The perfect thing for taking out those bloodsucking scum." Isran handed it over to him along with a pouch filled with steel bolts. "Just take a few shots at those crates across from you. See where your aim is."

The blond man took the weapon, plucking a bolt from the pouch and pulled the string back. Isran watched him take his first shot at the crates, only for it to miss by about a foot and ping off the wall. Agmaer glanced over to Isran, expecting some sort of rebuke, but the Redguard wasn't concerned with the miss. Not everyone was a master marksman. "Watch the recoil. It takes some getting used to."

Speaking of master marksmen... he didn't want to admit it, but he was wrong how he treated Sorine Jurard. Isran had thought her as arrogant, but she was whip-smart and great with weapons, especially fascinated with the dwemer. The crossbow he had just given to Agmaer was one of her own design, and he came to the realization that he needed her expertise here. Mending that bridge wasn't so easy, though. They hadn't left on good terms and last he heard, Sorine was off in the Reach convinced she was on the trail of the biggest dwarven ruin in Skyrim.

There are other people the Dawnguard needs. Isran watched as Agmaer's second shot narrowly missed the top of the crate. I can't allow past grudges to hold us back. If we are to win this war, then the Dawnguard will need their help. I need their help. "You'll get the hang of it."

He'd have to move quickly to get the people he needed, before the vampires got it in their heads to attack the Dawnguard while it was still weak. Tolan was a start.

The Dawnguard armory wasn't as empty as Isran led her to believe, Elise discovered. The fort had its own forge, workbench, grindstone, tanning rack; everything a blacksmith might need to make weapons against the vampire threat. Several suits of steel armor were stacked onto the workbench and the blonde Breton helped herself to one, casting aside her Vigilant robes. The armor seemed to be tailored exclusively for the Dawnguard; tough reinforced leather that allowed mobility while her torso and lower body were protected by thick steel. Elise shifted her balance to get used to the weight before pulling on the matching gloves and boots that came with the armor itself.

My initiation. Her lip curled into a snarl and she let her old steel warhammer drop, flexing her shoulders. Does he seriously think I'm going to get killed like everyone else? Are we all considered weak to him?

Visions of the Hall alight with flame flashed before her eyes and she clenched her fist, rage boiling behind the grief at losing her friends. The Vigilants were her family, the order that had taken in an angry teenage girl who had her parents murdered by daedra worshippers. Now, they were all gone. Carcette, everyone, they were all dead. It was only through sheer dumb luck that she wasn't at the Hall when it was attacked. Elise had been sent out to Winterhold of all places to investigate a series of disappearances by Frostflow Lighthouse and slew the giant chaurus reaper that dwelled beneath the ice. She went back to the Hall to report her findings and success, only to find the Hall had been attacked by vampires while she was gone.

You will all be avenged, Elise vowed, picking up an unusual warhammer lying against the tanning rack. She felt it vibrate in her hands and its enchantment whispered in her mind. The warhammer was specially enchanted to be extremely damaging to vampires and she smiled cruelly. The perfect weapon to get her revenge. I shouldn't be so angry at Isran. I should be thanking him, in fact.

He gave her an opportunity to kill her first vampire. She should be so grateful. Throw me into the fire. Not holding my hand, like how the Vigilants used to. She didn't come here to get coddled. She came to hunt vampires and slaughter them like the animals they were. Elise was fine with that.

The blonde woman strapped the warhammer to the back of her armor, ready to come swinging out in a moment's notice. Unfortunately, this was likely going to be an operation that required stealth, and there was nothing exactly subtle about a hammer smacking someone in the face. The noise alone would alert every guard in town. She needed something quiet.

It's obvious. I need a bow of some kind. She had some marginal training, enough to keep her hand steady and not miss at a certain distance, but it wasn't her preferred method of combat. Elise much preferred letting her hammer do the talking, charging into battle and feeling the satisfying throb in her hands as it crushed her foes. It was pure primal rage at its basest, the yearning for adrenaline rushes that only brute violence could provide. Her Ebonyflesh and various Restoration spells made her a walking tank, purposely bred for the front lines of battle.

Sneaking around wasn't her specialty. But it looked as though it would be a skill she would be forced to learn anyway. She grumbled irritably under her breath and spied a funky bow-like weapon lying on a wooden table near a small archery range. What's this? Curious, Elise picked it up and briefly remembered it was what the orc outside was shooting with. A crossbow. He had one when he approached me about the Dawnguard in Dawnstar, too.

Elise held the weapon in her hands and studied its mechanism until she figured out how it worked. The force propelled by its mechanism was far stronger than any normal bow, meaning that whatever she fired from it would tear through vampires like rolls of paper. But as she found out, no regular arrow would fit. Whatever it shot was obviously smaller, and Elise found a small leather pouch filled to the brim with steel bolts. Each of them was razor sharp, and Elise loaded one into her crossbow.

The blonde woman aimed it at the humanoid dummy set up in the archery range and squeezed the trigger. Razor sharp steel flung forth like a troll, striking the dummy center mass and shaking it. Elise smiled at the results and clipped the weapon to the belt that ran diagonally across her armor, fitting the pouch of bolts next to her ingredient pouch. A few potions rolled around inside it, most of them for restoring any lost magicka in the field. It never hurt to be prepared, and as plainly put out to her, being careless against vampires meant certain death. And dying meant putting innocent people at risk.

Fully armored, the Breton woman left the armory and stopped at the main entrance, watching as the chatty young boy who accompanied her up to the fort practiced with his own crossbow. As far as first impressions went, he didn't exactly leave a good one on her. He was too nervous, no backbone at all, and yet here he was, looking more and more at home with each shot he took. Isran was standing off to the side, expressionless.

The Redguard's eyes met hers and he gave her a brief nod. That was all she was going to get out of him.

Elise left the fort, bumping into the friendly Breton man who stood guard outside of it, clad in a lighter version of her own armor with a strange runic war axe on his belt. He smiled at the sight of her in armor and offered some words of confidence to her. "Isran found something for you to do? I knew he'd like you. Good luck."

Luck? She almost laughed at the notion. Elise didn't believe in luck, and neither it seemed did Isran. He was all about getting proven results. Luck only carries one so far. Against vampires, it won't mean a damn thing.

She walked down the front steps and through the courtyard, passing by the farm that had been planted outside the fort. Isran was smart enough to know they needed to have a steady food supply. Looks like the Dawnguard is serious about dealing with the vampires. It's a war against them. Elise was willing to do anything it took if it meant she got her vengeance.

Beyond the barricades that officially marked the end of the fort's territory in Dayspring Canyon, Elise broke into a light jog, panting as she moved around in armor much heavier than what she was used to. Normal steel armor was still heavy, but by Stendarr! The Dawnguard armor felt more akin to wearing a steel coat. Still, she didn't bother wasting energy to complain; the extra weight would come in handy if a vampire got up close. Heavy means it'll save me from a sword. It's just a manner of getting used to the weight. Then I won't notice it at all.

Elise stopped by the small lake on the edge of Dayspring Canyon, taking a few moments to catch some fresh spring water in an empty potion vial. I'll need a carriage to make it to Ivarstead by tomorrow. She grimaced at the thought of having to spend a night barely sleeping in one, but it was a short two mile walk to Riften from Dayspring Canyon. It wouldn't be anything she couldn't handle. Even if she wasn't as battle-hardened as Isran or even a senior Vigilant like Tolan, she was not some weak maiden who needed a big strong hero to save her. By the Divines, she hated whenever she stopped at a tavern and some local mercenaries would leer at her like she didn't know how to pick up a sword. She'd be a terrible Vigilant if she couldn't smack someone around with a hammer.

Or her fists. Elise would admit to starting a few tavern fights in Dawnstar and Winterhold, usually when some drunk couldn't just leave her well enough alone. Bloody tramps. Every city and every tavern had them. I'll investigate the town and come up with a plan to get rid of the vampire stalking it. Like Isran warned, this isn't a mission I can go in swinging. As much as she hated them, vampires were an enemy always worthy of respecting, in a manner of speaking. Taking one carelessly was a sure way to end up becoming its next victim. Beat them at their own game.

Ivarstead was already freed from the vampire holding it hostage. The bloodsucking scum just didn't know it yet.

Isran left Agmaer to get toured around Fort Dawnguard by Celann, trusting that his appointed second-in-command would get the rookie suited up and out training. The boy had talent and while nervous, he possessed the talent of a marksman. Give or take a few months and he would soon be sent out across Skyrim, bringing down the Divines' justice upon the abominations plaguing the land. If he lives long enough. The old Redguard had seen far too many bright youngsters put themselves into an early grave over the years. Agmaer would make a fine addition to the Dawnguard if he survived the training, but Isran's mind was on the other addition to his band of vampire hunters.

Elise was different compared to most Vigilants he had dealings with throughout his life. Fiery, unwilling to sit around while the vampires made a meal out of Skyrim's people, and someone who liked to let their weapon do the talking. She was off. Not insane or madness, but not quite all there. For a lack of a better term, she was guarded, like someone who had seen the worst the world has to offer and spat in the face of it. The ones who survived living through hell always came out changed.

She reminded him of Celann in his earlier years. The Breton man had mellowed out a little over the past ten or so years, but before he used to be as bloodthirsty as Isran himself. It was why the two of them saw eye-to-eye and were able to put past disputes behind them to work together, despite their arguments after they left the Vigilants together.

Tolan was waiting for him in his quarters, the old Nord glaring disapprovingly at the torture devices Isran had scattered around in the event they happened to capture a vampire instead of killing it where it stood. Isran ignored it and set his hammer down on a nearby table, snatching up a half-empty flagon. He sniffed its contents, and after making sure the liquid within wasn't rancid he downed it, wiping his mouth. "Tolan, what do you know about my new recruit?"

"The farm boy?" the old Nord snarked, purposely playing dumb. "You tell me."

Isran stared, eyes flat.

Tolan snorted and scowled, glaring thunderously at the torture devices. "Elise had only recently been made a full Vigilant. We picked her up six years ago after we performed a raid on a suspected daedra cult. She was thirteen then and asked to join. She's a barely contained sack of anger and blood, far more bloodthirsty than someone her age should be. Carcette thought her as too brash and violent for our cause, but the girl is resilient of nothing else. Her grasp of magical theory made her a talent and she was finally trusted to go out on a job for us. She was absent from the Hall when it was attacked; somewhere in Winterhold, if I remember correctly."

"She's a mage? Looked more like someone used to letting their hammer do the talking to me."

Tolan laughed bitterly. "Don't let that fool you. She's vicious. Brother Hafnir found that out the hard way after he goaded her into a fight. Even though she spent most of her teenage years with us, she never really fit in. She's... off. Not mad, like men corrupted by daedra, but far from what one could call normal."

Isran understood that too well. It was the same reason why he and Celann never really fit in with the Vigilants. Their hearts were in the right place; he never denied that. But they weren't prepared to go to the lengths he was to maintain order. Quite a catch had fallen into his lap. "I need your help, Tolan."

"I thought you had labeled us all soft. That we're cowards and our deaths proved our weakness." Tolan's eyes burned angrily.

"Tolan..." Isran met his thunderous glare head-on. "I need to know the whereabouts of Sorine Jurard, Gunmar War-Bear, and... Florentius Baenius." The last name on his list had him mentally screaming. Gunmar was a giant brute of a Nord who had a hatred of vampires matching Isran's own, and a master at training animals to be war beasts. He was relatively easy to work with. Florentius on the other hand... that was a mess he did not want to deal with. The old Imperial priest liked to think of himself as a direct channel to Arkay, and he had a habit of spouting his nonsense wherever he went. But he was also one of the very few remaining practioners of sun magic remaining in Tamriel, a deadly subsection of Restoration magic that was especially effective against the forces of the undead. That knowledge made him a formidable ally and combatant. He may have been a priest, but Florentius had seen his fair amount of bloodshed.

"Florentius?" Tolan barked out a laugh. "Last I heard, he was helping out the Vigilants in the northeast of the Rift."

"Why? What are they doing there?" Isran pressed.

"Excavating some ancient Nordic barrow called Ruunvald. Florentius seemed to think it was important." Tolan shrugged. "Carcette was quiet about the details, though. I'll see what I can find out about Sorine and Gunmar. You have anything on them?"

"Sorine is in the northwest part of the Reach, near the border of Haafingar if the information is correct. She was on the trail of a set of dwarven ruins. As for Gunmar, he was out in the southeast of the Rift looking for more beasts to tame." Old bastard got it into his head years ago that his experience with animals would come in handy. Trolls in particular. Gunmar was funny like that. Isran had once laughed openly at the idea of slapping a set of iron armor onto a troll and pointing it in the direction of a vampire coven, but now that idea wasn't looking so bad. At this point, with a war on the brink of breaking out between vampires and mortalkind, Isran was willing to try everything and anything to win.

"I'll see what I can do. The Reach is a long journey, though," Tolan warned. "I may not be back for several weeks."

"Then worry about Gunmar for now. I trust you to be able to hold your own. After Elise finishes up with the task I gave her, I'll send her to look for Sorine. Something tells me she'll be of greater use with more freedom."

"You expect her to survive then."

"I expect to get results. That's why I gave her a task immediately that'll tell me if she's cut out for this." He'd never find out if she was cut out for the Dawnguard by having her sit on her backside all day. Sending her out to deal with a vampire that had already begun to enthrall a town would be enough to tell him if she would be any use to the cause.

"You always were one to throw people right in and see if they sink or swim." Tolan ran a hand over his balding head. "For once, I can't disagree with you."

Tolan left Isran behind to seek out Gunmar and the Redguard man stroked his beard. The old Nord had his heart in the right place and he wanted to avenge his fallen comrades. Elise was even more thirsty for vengeance. It was hard for him to not look at the potential rewards the Dawnguard were primed to reap; Gunmar would be relatively easy to convince to work with and he was one of the best blacksmiths Skyrim had to offer. Sorine was a master with a crossbow and always tinkering to improve weapons. Florentius was an adept in sun magic, a vampire's worst enemy.

The future looked all but certain now.

A/N: Thank you all for reading the first chapter. I don't know when the second will be up, but hopefully sooner as opposed to later. See you all next time.

-Kagerou#9718