The Pillars of Nosgoth. . . To see them up close, their towering presence which pierced through the cloudy skies, making me wonder if they even went all the way towards to the stars. I had traveled mostly on foot, using the many roads that were considered safe from bandits, wild beasts, and most importantly, vampires. I have heard the tales of such creatures from many who claimed to have seen them. Some have even went as far to say that those unfortunate were carried by a winged being, having blue skin, black feathered wings, and glowing yellow eyes. . .

My name is Kellin, formely lived in Willendorf, now living freely as a traveling artist, painting the vast landscapes that my home has to offer, alongside painting portraits for noblemen and the highly priveliged. I promised myself that I would finally visit the pristine pillars, marking it as perhaps my finest art piece yet. The skies were turning clear, and there was no soul around to distract me, aside from the crows that seemed to gather nearby the steps to the center of the pillars. It was very strange to see these scavengers take such an interest in me, as if they were watching every brush stroke I made. As the hours passed, I began to notice a sudden change around me, almost ominous in presence, and as I finished off my small canvas, this presence grew close. I had bought a steel shortsword for protection, and my ability to fight isn't exactly to a high standard that is expected from the Sarafan Guard. Not that I would ever join such a over zealous group, but their obsession against demons and vampires had driven me away from them. Hatred only brings out the worst in people, and I have no intention to let hate for beings I have not met take hold.

I moved away from my small art station to survey my surroundings, looking towards the old gates to the south which lead to the distant Sarafan stronghold, a path I had no reason to venture to. The silence only made me more tense, my grip on the sword was tight, and my breathing was heavy. I turned around to discover that the murder of crows had flown off with my canvas of the pillars! Sure they could've stolen my food, but they took a painted canvas of all things! These clearly weren't ordinary birds, that much was clear. With haste, I packed away what I could into the leather bag. No matter what would come next, I intended to follow these birds, regardless of the dangers ahead.

I do not know what compelled me to keep going towards the north. I must have spent an entire day just moving forward, disregarding my lack of sleep and my ever growing hunger. All because some extraordinary birds had stolen my canvas of the pillars of Nosgoth, and with night falling, I had little choice but to find some shelter. With some luck I managed to find a large hollowed tree, just large enough for me to set up a hideaway camp. I double checked the area, cautiously making sure that any woodland creature, bandit or beast would not see my little nesting place.

I had enough bread for tonight, and just enough fruit to get me started in the morning. With a weary sigh, I rested on my bedroll, thankful that tonight wouldn't be too cold. My next step would be to take the north path to Uschtenheim, a small hamlet that was supposedly the target of vampires, but whether these rumors were true or not, is uncertain. It did not matter to me, because my stubborn nature didn't care for whatever followed next. The following morning was an early start for me, and my goal was strengthened by my determination. The clouds were a dark grey, with darker shades from the south, thus a storm was destined to arrive.

Capturing the thunder and lightning into a painting requires paitience, practice and memorising the pattern. Much as I wanted to paint again, I'd rather find myself a cosy inn, sitting in front of a fire with a mug of ale. I pushed myself as I walked the rough road, feeling the droplets of rain touch my head calmly, constantly looking for a semblance of a sign of civilisation. . .

After what seemed hours of walking, the rain began to worsen, thunder had followed me as I cautiously stepped passed rocky terrain and moved passed what seemed to be old campsites, the torn banner clearly showing the Sarafan symbol. Those hunters liked leaving their banners akin to a dog's excrement, whilst many think the Sarafan are holy and just, I however thought of them no better than the beings they claim to fight against. Call me a blasphemer, call me a heretic, I care little for confilct that doesn't involve me.

The rain thankfully stopped, but the darkened clouds remained. Soon after, I had finally discovered the small hamlet of Uschtenheim, I could see they had a small church for those who would worship, alongside signs of an Inn. Finally my trek through this damned weather paid off at last, and with a burst of energy, I moved towards the Inn. I tidy my messy thick black hair, and knocked on the door three times. My ears could pick up the footsteps moving swiftly towards the door, and I was greeted by an frail old lady, she looked as if the wind could whisk her away.

"Well aren't you a dashing young fellow?" She asked, "Come in dear." She beckoned me in and I followed, noticing three to four other patrons, and a much younger woman behind the bar. I sat myself down and placed my bag down beside me, taking a pouch of gold from my waist to lighten myself.

One patron sat down opposite me, most likely a local. He was three times my age, no hair on his head but a magnificently well kept beard. "Not often we have visitors in Uschtenheim. I hope you're not planning on leaving at night." He spoke with a surprisingly friendly tone, a much more refreshing presence than the condescending upper class of Willendorf aristocrocy I was accustomed to.

"I think after the journey I have had, I'll be happier just keeping warm." I replied, keeping a small smile, "My name is Kellin." I offered my hand in kind. The old man shook it firmly, his grip was surprisingly strong for a man his age.

"I'm Karl. The old lady who let you in is Clara, the barkeep is Alice, and the three gentlemen over there are Peter, Julius, and Morgan. You've come in at a time where most of the villagers tend to avoid even setting foot outside of their homes."

I suspected that bringing up the rumors of vampires lurking around the village could upset them, so I simply responded with, "I do not blame them. This weather is not good for anyone's health." Karl seemed to understand and nodded, he seemed like a person I could trust.

"I'm originally from Willendorf. I use to paint portraits for the nobles and families of high status, but now I roam Nosgoth, painting the vast landscapes and places of interest for my own entertainment."

The barkeep Alice approached me with a mug of ale and a simple beef stew, she smiled at me and said, "You've come a long way, I think you'll find plenty of materials to paint in this little hamlet of ours." She gave me a wink, but I daren't respond, I couldn't woo anybody to save myself.

Karl was quick to add in, "If you'd like, you can stay in the inn for a while and take in what Uschtenheim has to offer. You should check the church in the morning, there's old murals depicting a battle between the vampires and their adversaries."

This peaked my curiosity, "You have murals of vampires? I thought it was frowned upon." This made Karl laugh at my look of confusion.

"We're not Sarafan young Kellin. The church holds untainted history without the interference from those over zealous fools, who'd rather alter and indoctrinate others into believing their views on vampires."

Karl's words surprised me. Unlike the major cities and citadels of Nosgoth, this place wasn't tainted by Sarafan propaganda. . . Perhaps this little hamlet would provide more than just inspiration for my art, but clues to the mysteries that surround me. Little did I know that Uschtenheim held more than just secrets and murals. . .

End of Chapter I