Vampires.
Monsters, night predators, terrible blood drinkers whose thirst for blood was completely insatiable.
The Magnus Opus of Molag Baal, one of the few Daedric Princes that has been recognized as unabashedly evil, who unleashed the plague of the vampires through the first Daughter of Coldharbour., Lamae Bal.
The first pure-blood vampire was an unwilling Nedic tribeswoman, Lamae Beolfag, a priestess of Arkay that was raped by Molag Bal, the Daedric prince of domination and enslavement. After the ordeal, Molag drop a shed of blood of the brown of Lamae, and bandoned her to her luck.
A tribe of nomads found the broken woman and took care of her, but that act of mercy brought doom to the tribe. Despite the healing attempts of the nomads, Lamae perished, but when she was burning in her funeral pyre, she rose as a pure blood vampire.
Blind by rage, Lamae slaughtered the nomads, rip the throats of the women, ate the eyes of the children, and rape the men to death. Killing the tribe and partaking in their blood, Lamae turned her own funeral into a carnage.
Lamae hated Molag Bal, hated Arkay, and became a nightmare that expanded her curse everywhere. She became the Blood-Matron, and the first Daughter of Coldharbour, who received her powers directly from Molag Bal himself. The disgusting method on where Lamae become a vampire, started something akin to a tradition for the pure-blood vampires.
Females will be offered to Molag Bal on the day of his summoning, and they will be raped, savagely, brutally, by the Daedric Prince. The few that survive such horror, become pure-blood vampires, and it is considered a great honor among the pure-blood clans.
Since that accursed day, the Sanguinare Vampiris, as the curse of the vampires is known in Skyrim, traveled all over the lands, bringing pain and suffering wherever they appear.
It must be noted, that the tale of Lamae is not the only one about the origin of the vampires. According to the Tribunal Temple doctrine, vampires surged from the corpse of an enemy that Molag Bal defeated, though, there is no clear reference about what enemy did Molag Bal profaned to create the vampire menace.
Anyhow, arguing about where does the bloodsuckers come from is a moot point, they exists. They are dangerous, cunning, ruthless, and armed with a myriad of diverse magical abilities that made of the profession of hunting them, quite the daunting task.
Leaving apart the younger vampires, those that are still trying to polish their supernatural abilities, the biggest threat of the vampires may not be their inhumane strength and resilience, but their innate abilities to summon undead, subjugate individuals to their will, and, how the can infect other innocents with their malady. Curiously enough, a pure-blood vampire is more than probable that will sneer at those vampires that did not share the blood of a pure-vampire, be it from a Daughter of Coldharbour, or, one of ancient lineages under the servitude of Molag Bal, that have been "rewarded" with pure-blood for their service.
One would argue that the blessing of being infected with the curse of the vampire condition, as if it was a reward, is of very ill taste, but, again, the vampire curse comes from Molag Bal, nothing good ever comes from that Daedric prince. Also, the only thing that none can debate, is that a vampire is a very powerful enemy, with a myriad of supernatural tricks, resilience, and strength.
Many individuals of scarce morals, seeking power of any kind, at any cost, have been seduced by the promises of power of the blood, or, merely a victim, infected with Sanguinare vampiris, that is forced to broke its morals to survive, in a world that has turned hostile for them. Such hostility is reciprocated, usually through violence, that results in thralls, gargoyles, and other vampire associated monsters causing harm to anything and anyone around.
There has been reports of vampires ruling over a spot of land for a long period of time, lots of Clans reside all over Tamriel and beyond, with their blood mutating and changing, but those kingdoms tend to end in violence and tragedy. Perhaps due to their own nature as predators, vampires found tremendously difficult to empathize with the fragile and short-lied bags of blood around them, and due to such differences, any long term involvement outside of slavery, is a very hazardous task.
Even so, that has never stopped vampires of any kind to carve their small kingdoms, and it's worthy of note that some of them, like House Ravenwatch of Rivenspire, had demonstrated that vampires can raise above their curse, and become rulers and protectors of the land, alas, they are the minority.
The majority of the vampire clans, houses, bands, whatever, rule through fear, slavery, magical domination, and brutality, something that fit their supposed origin as the ill-begotten progeny of Molag Bal. Perhaps, the most clear example would be one of the most famous clans of vampires, whom took residence on Skyrim. The Volkihar Clan of vampires, that, according to the legends, were able to transform into powerful hybrids of man and bat, and that were able to mesmerize their victims and call the help of gargoyles in battle.
True enough, all clans, and blood lineages of vampires, do have their particular gimmick, even those very far from the blood of Lamae are able to develop quite the unusual magical capabilities, although, blood magic and necromancy will always be a staple among all vampires.
For creatures like these, nightmares in the undead flesh, being on the role of prey is something very uncommon.
Sure enough, with the permanent menace that the Daedric princes are, with uncountable hordes of dremora and lesser daedra under their command, the vampires are not the apex predators of Tamriel, but they are dangerous enough, to practically all civilized societies to shun, or at least, put severe leashes on them before the Sanguinare vampiris become the death toll of a kingdom.
In the Fourth Age, a disgruntled Vigilant of Stendarr called Isran, made two and two, and realized that something odd was taking place in Skyrim, under the shadows of the returned dragons, and the fratricide civil war ongoing.
There was a new player in the lands, and it has very big teeth.
Of course, at the beginning, no one in their sane mind payed any attention to the ramblings of Isran, disparaging Isran's theories as if he was just being a paranoid zealot that saw vampires in any shadow. Truth to be told, if the Vigilants of Stendarr would have paid more mind to the words of Isran, maybe the Hall of the Vigilants would still exists, but they did not, and when the Volkihar clan torched the place to the ground, the Vigilants were all but eradicated in Skyrim.
However, Isran had already jumped ship, and reformed the Dawnguard, an ancient order of Vampire Hunters in the lands of the Hold of the Rift, that, in the past, where the bulwark of humanity against the vampire menace. Unfortunately, the Dawnguard was destroyed by their own corruption, when the ancient warriors decided to turn themselves into vampires to hunt other vampires. The curse was stronger than them, and the honorable order of warriors became exactly the very same thing that they hunted.
But the hunt was anew, a new Dawnguard, lead by Isran, had taken residence in the old, but unbroken, Fort Dawnguard, and, from there, the warriors of the Dawnguard prepared for the incoming conflict against however is the mastermind behind the multiple vampires sights and attacks all over Tamriel.
Vampires found themselves being the prey, a position that they did not enjoy in the slightest, worst of all, certain new member of the Dawnguard, a Nord from the Skaal tribes of the island of Solstheim, not only was incredible efficient in hunting and killing vampires, but he also taught city guards how to identify vampires and thralls among the local populace.
There is little need to say that all vampires in Skyrim wanted the head of said Nord on a plate, but so far, none of them has been able to best him, be it in physical or magical combat. Several vampire lairs, affiliated to the ascending Volkihar Clan or not, were cleansed by the mysterious Nord of Skaal ascendancy,
One of said lairs was Gallows Rock.
The place where the survivor of another cleansing on Falkreath Hold had taken refuge, after the Silver Hand; the beastblood hunters organization; was slaughtered. Taking advantage of the corpses, the defensive position, and all of the other advantages, the last survivor of the Bloodlet Throne, bunkered down, and started to weave the usual vampire conspiracies.
Perhaps victim of his own nature, the need of blood of the vampires is overwhelming and vital for them, as it is the only thing that could provide sustenance, the vampire did not hunker down and wait patiently for a more calmed times, and the moment that he took the wrong thrall, he earned the attention of the very same person that cleansed the Bloodlet throne.
In the Bard's College, they taught a certain musical event called making a Bis, the resume would be that whenever a popular song is being sang, making a bis is repeating it, as soon as the last rhyme or accord is song.
What transpired on the Gallows Rock could be called a bis, but for the vampire hunting business, or any extermination business to be fair. Substitute the vampires for bandits, cultist, or whatever and it would be a text book example of the extermination of a small group.
But with the addendum of being made by only one man entering into the defending fortification, instead of a squad of soldiers or warriors. However, the Dawnguard warrior never fought alone, for the man was a master of the conjuration school of magicka, and, if the rumors are to be believed, a necromancer of incredible power.
It was truth, and, at the same time, it was not even close to the truth.
Alas, for the nightstalker vampire that was fighting for his life on the deeper halls of the Gallows, such disquisitions were very irrelevant, as the vampire was way more worried about the blood toned greatsword that was trying to bisect him, like that same weapon has done to the thralls that the nightstalker kept around as if the steel armor that they wore was wet papyrus. The enslaved bandits, mere puppets to feed and to use as workforce, did not even slow down the hunter a little.
The reworked mechanical traps, and the scarce runes that the vampire had managed to scrounge to bolster the defenses, did not slow down the hunter all that much either, perhaps the biggest challenge was the gargoyle that the vampire commanded, but the beast was reduced to ashes by an avalanche of magical bolts that carried the touch of the sun, something anathema for most vampires.
Volkihar vampires, specially those of old age, are notable resilient to the touch of the sun, they can walk under the sun, as long as they cover themselves up, and endure the weakening that the light produced on them, but the gargoyle was not that fortunate, and the sun bolts were more than enough to fry the beast in a shower of sunlight and the dying screeches of the gargoyle.
After that, the last vampire of the Vighar Court, who once ruled over the lands under the shadow of the Bloodlet Throne, decided that making like a tree, and get lost in the forest, was actually a very nice idea.
Sadly, even if running away was the best part of valor, the nightstalker vampire was unable to run much far before a couple of floating swords tried to kill him. Only thanks to the augmented reflexes of his vampire condition did he managed to survive the original strike of the magically propelled blades.
The red colored greatsword was still dripping the blood of the thralls that it has mutilated like they were cattle, and the other weapon, a floating steel greatsword that had electric arcs dancing over its surface, was the weapon that deal the final strike to the vampire's strongest thrall, piercing the armored chest of the thrall and electrocuting the body until it was a smoking piece of charred flesh and half-melted steel.
The glass sword of the vampire, enchanted by the mages at Winterhold with a vitality draining enchantment, clashed against the floating swords, never, in all his long un-life as vampire, has the struggling Nnghtstalker witness such a display of telekinesis.
Telekinesis was one of the most basis spells of the school of Alteration, any adept mage should be able to cast it with little effort, but the kind of skill that the vampire was witnessing was very rare, and only at the hands of true masters of the magical arts.
Using his own magical skills, the vampire deflected the electric blade with a hasty ward spell, and hammered the flat of the blood dripping greatsword, tossing to the side of the hall, and making it dig its blade into the stone, trying to trap the floating weapon into the sturdy stones of the fortress. It was not a bad idea, but the red toned weapon was an artifact of tremendous potency, and despite the inhumane strength of the vampire, and the exceptional quality of his enchanted glass blade, the great sword slit out of the stone as if it was butter.
Reinforcing the ward, the vampire tried to win enough time to escape through one of the holes of the underground halls; made during the battle that killed the Silver Hands previously residing here; into the form of a swarm of bats, disappearing in the cold and snowy night of the Eastmarch Hold.
Out of nowhere, and much to the surprise of the vampire, who always thought that his wards were pretty strong, a green, dark, tentacle that dripped a poisonous and acidic slime, blitzed past the nightstalkers ward, clench the torso of the vampire, who hissed at the acid of the slime, before the vampire was forcefully dragged back to the room from where he had tried to escape.
The deep baritone voice of he hunter, who carried an undertone of feral quality, was waiting for the vampire, in an expression of hunting joy.
"Get over here!".
The hunter pulled the greenish tentacle that had erupted from the edge of the strange and disconcerting sword that the Dawnguard hunter took from the corpse of Miraak, the First Dragonborn, and in show of superior strength, reeled the vampire back to him.
In honor of the vampire, it must be said that the former Altmer resisted with all his might, and thanks to his vampire state, he was stronger than any human, but ultimately, he was comically overwhelmed by the colossal strength of the hunter.
The vampire raised his glass sword to block the incoming decapitating strike of the hunter, but the silvery waraxe, engraved in runes that spelled doom for any creature of the night, surpassed the parry of the vampire and beheaded him. The rune engraved axe cut through the unnaturally pale of the vampire in a flash of sunlight, turning the flesh of the vampire into ashes in less than a blink.
The flying head turned into ashes before it could even hit the nearby walls of floor, leaving a sot mark on the walls.
With a chuckle, the hunter recalled the floating blades to him, and passing the hand with the sword of Miraak over the ashes, both the ashes and the sword turned into quick streams of light that stored themselves into the ring that the hunter carried around his thumb.
Personal, magical, storage spaces are something that any mage capable of achieving them gets as soon as they could. The most famous container would be the bag of holding, or the holding backpack, but for really powerful enchanters, the options are not that limited. Jewelry, rings, clothes, anything really, could be turned into a storage container. In the case of the hunter, he created two rings with such capacity, two steeled storage rings that he carried on the thumbs of each hand.
Storing the other floating weapons as well, the hunter raised his helmet covered head and channeled a quick spell to detect life all around him. The spell was powerful enough to cover most of Gallows Rock, and soon it was clear that there were only two living beings in the fortress.
Taking the helmet of the Dawnguard of his head, a unique helmet make of gold and ebony instead of the usual steel, the Dawnguard hunter scratched the side of his head in relief, and stored the helmet into the rings. Already taking into consideration that the hostage that he had come to rescue would react more positively to a friendly face than a helmet face.
After a quick inspection of his Dawnguard armor, and taking mental note of fixing several plaques broken after the fight with the servants of the vampire, the hunter walked deep into the fortress, into the prison cages that the Silver Hand used to contain beastblood prisoners.
The vampire used those same cages to hold thralls, potential servants that needs mind control, or, to kept some undead contained before they are deployed to the spot that they need to guard. All vampires tend to act on those parameters, mind enslaved thralls, aspirants to become vampires, and gargoyles or vampire hounds as guards, not counting the vampires of the court.
Even the weakest vampire of a court is a dangerous predator, that, if it is left unchecked, could cause a lot of harm.
In part ashamed of how the nightstalker vampire managed to slip under his nose from the cleansing of the Bloodlet Throne, the Dawnguard hunter took haste in chasing him down, after the vampire made the mistake of kidnapping one of the friends of the hunter.
Well, perhaps friend maybe a strong word, business associates may be a better explanation. Still,. She was important enough to guarantee the personal attention of the; although he will never speak of himself in such terms; best vampire hunter of Skyrim.
Of course, due to such attentions, Gallows rock was again filled to the brim with corpses. And people still wondered how come necromancy was a soaring business, with the Civil War, the Dragons, and several other threats lurking around, corpses was a cheap coin these days.
With a hand gesture, the glass sword of the vampire floated at the hand of the hunter, who eyed it with curiosity, and softly smiling at the reflection on the blood covered blue material of the blade.
Captain Krein of the Dawnguard, Krein of the Many Blades, as he was nicknamed, stared back at the hunter.
Krein was a colossus of a Nord, part of the race of Men, though, more than one has joked about how Krein had Mer blood, Orsimer blood to be precise, or giant blood, due to his gigantic stature, that makes him stand above even the usually taller Orcs and Altmer, and very muscular psyche. The facial features of Krein were of traditional Nord stock, but with the marking of the Skaal blood showing in his features. Orange red, short hair, and slim cheeks. Contrary to other Nords, Krein did not sported beard but a well groomed mustache, of the same color of his short hair, resting in his upper lip.
In the reflection of the sword, the tip of an elongated fag peeked through the smirk of Krein, along his green eyes, that turned bear like for a couple of seconds, showing the presence of Beastblood in his veins.
Among the Dawnguard, it was hardly a secret that Krein was of beastblood, anyone from the original batch of recruits of Isran knew of such secrets. It was revealed when a warband of vampires attacked Fort Dawnguard, and Krein transformed into a fourteen tall mass of fur, muscle, claws and fangs that tore the vampires and their thralls apart as if they were nothing. Contrary to the popular imagery that most people had of the savage beastblood of any kind, werewolves, werebears, werelions, or whatever, Krein did not lost an iota of his senses, and continued being as rational as normal, but enveloped in a gargantuan bear suit.
Huffing, Krein stored the enchanted weapon into his ring, and proceed to walk into the thrall pens. The glass sword was an enchanted weapon that will go straight into the Dawnguard armory, or, more likely, fenced to Riften, for whomever wanted to purchase it. Running an organization like the Dawnguard was not cheap, and enchanted weapons can be sold for a pretty sum.
Septims are septims, after all.
As Krein walked over the halls that he has been battling until he finally put an end to the nightstalker vampire, he idly watched how his own conjured help looted everything that it was not nailed down, and dealt with the aftermath of the battle.
Namely corpses, and other gruesome remains of the necromancy experiments of the vampire. There was a reason why the vampire had chosen Gallows Rock, beyond the fact that it was a small fortress on its own. The previous settlers of the fortress was the organizations called the Silver Hands. Beastblood hunters with a chip on their shoulder, and that did not squirm at the living experiments with all kind of beastblood they capture.
The book Physicalities of the Werewolves, of unknown author, is their bed book, and that book is a compendium of the most painful possible tortures to apply to werewolves. From an academic perspective, the book was incredible detailed and complete, mirroring the avid curiosity of the writer, who, in a show of horrible irony, did not actually had any grudge against beastblood, he was just curious.
Sometimes, the pursuit of knowledge is bathed in the blood of the innocents, and the resolve of the mad.
The vampire just took advantage of the torture dungeon that the deceased Kev the Skinner; the leader of the Silver Hand on the fortress; had installed in the fortress to reenact the Bloodlet Throne as much as possible.
But Krein knew that something was off the moment that he saw the alchemy contraptions that the vampire installed on site. To say that a vampire interested in fertility potions and virility mixtures is an unusual occurrence would be putting it mildly, but that was exactly what Krein found at the alchemy station that the vampire had, along several books about Kyne blessed rituals of fertility, and a small statue of Mephala, and Dibella, on an improvised altar on the room where Kev the Skinner was torn to pieces.
The entire situation differ wildly from the usual patterns of the vampires that Krein has found in Skyrim so far, however, the answer rested among the personal belongings of the vampire. Gallows rock was a pragmatical place, built and fated to be a fortress, not a leisure spot, but, as all vampires as soon as they could, the vampire ordered his thralls to build a comfortable enough room for him.
One of the undead under the command of Krein, a Wrathman covered head to toe in white bone protective armor, brought Krein the coffer with the loot that they have collected from the vampire dwellings. The usual babbles, assorted coins, and jewelry, along a series of mementos and trinkets of arcane utility. Among those mementos stood a book, an old book with the markings of the Sinod library, that contained the tale of the Gray Prince.
Now, Krein understood what the nightstalker vampire was trying to start in the Gallows rock fortress, though, Krein frowned at the idea.
The Gray Prince, also know as Agronak Gro-Malog, was the Grand Champion of the Imperial City Arena till the year 433 of the Third Era, when he died in a battle to kept the rank of Grand Champion.
The notable orc was the son of a powerful Cyrodil bloodline vampire, Lord Ludovicus, and, for the moment, the only known case of successful interbreeding between any strain of Sanguinare Vampiris and any race of Men, Mer, or Beasts. The tale of the Gray Prince was a tragedy, but the existence of the Grey Prince proved that half-vampires could exists, and, if Agronak was the baseline, then such births will be quite sorted out by any Court all over Tamriel.
Alas, and being a bit rude, Krein also remembered that most of the vampires see those not of the blood as meat to eat, not as meat to get laid with.
After way too many lairs reduced to ashes, Krein has seen more than enough feeding thralls to recognize that, from the perspective of the vampires, they are not sexually appealing, well, not more than an appetizing meal. On the other hand, vampires are of mortal origins, for the most part, so they may still have the passions of their mortal origins, and consider have some thralls more apt for sexual gratification than just to feed on them. Or the two things at the same time.
Passing one hand over the contents of the coffer, they were stored into the ring, adding their value to the growing hoard of Krein. A very nice hoard, that was still growing with each mission that he accomplish for the Dawnguard. Little by little, Krein was cleaning Skyrim of the vampire menace, but the problem was that Krein has yet to found the redoubt of the mastermind behind the sudden eruption of vampires all over the country.
Someone has lit an inferno under the asses of all the courts of Skyrim and beyond, and Krein wanted to know why. Enough volatile was the country already between the Dragons and the ongoing civil war to add the leeches to the mixture.
The only reason why Krein had not join the Stormcloaks, and proceed to eradicate the Thalmor; and any Imperial legionary stupid enough to be on Krein's way, from the surface of Skyrim, was that the Dawnguard was free to operate all over the lands, as long as they remain neutral about the civil war.
Meaning, that the moment that Krein shoved the head of any Thalmor Justicar up their ass, in front of any legionary, without a very good reason, the Empire will revoke the Dawnguard permission to operate in Imperial controlled provinces, and the Dawnguard will be treated as criminals, akin to Talos worshipers.
Now, to be fully honest, if Krein would have been the only one affected, then Krein would have accepted it with a smile, but the problem is that it would have affected the entire Dawnguard, and with the order still in diapers, and regaining their strength for the inevitable conflict to come with whoever has provoke this vampire uprising, such setback could be disastrous for Skyrim, the Empire, and who knows what other lands.
Only the Thalmor are foolish enough to try to play their long term games with the progeny of Molag Bal, not to mention, that Krein suspected that the Thalmor knew way more than they say about what is going on with the vampires. The Altmer sect of milkdrinkers, that rose to prominence after the Oblivion Crisis, has brought more than one headache to Krein, way before Krein joined the Dawnguard.
The Thalmor are a cult, sect, whatever they wanted to call themselves, of elven supremacist from the Summerset Island, the hiomeland of the Altmer race, they rose to the top after the Oblivion crisis, and have been mucking things up since then. Leaving apart their apparent desires for conquest and control, Krein had another kind of axe to grind with all of them, and with the buffoon of the Emperor Mede, that rule over a collection of worms, chickens, and bootlickers that formed the Council these days.
Krein was a survivor of the Battle of the Red Ring, a former battle mage from the Shadow Legion, that was captured by the Thalmor soon after they captured Cyrodil, and forced to fight for his life in demented and grotesque gladiatorial combats for the amusement of the Thalmor and their dremora pets.
To make things worse, after an unsung hero freed him and others from the Arena, and killed the bastard behind the horrors that took place in the plundered capital, Krein had to see how the Emperor failed to even fight for the city, and the same hero that rescued Krein from the Arena, had to pick up Goldbrand, and command the Legions in a devastating attack that butchered the Thalmor to the last.
Any ember of any faith that Krein could still have for the Empire, died an agonizing death, the moment the White and Gold Concordat was signed.
To twist the knife a bit more, the Concordat was exactly the same that the Empire rejected vehemently at the beginning, but now, it were the same demands with the nice addendum of a mind blogging amount of gold coins
Krein abandoned the Shadow Legion the next day.
Depressed and frustrated, Krein returned to the lands where he grow up, Solstheim, and there, he lived with his adoptive Skaal family. For a decade, Krein enjoyed the relative peace of the snowy mountains, living a peaceful life, in harmony with the environment, and deepening his magic power, along learning how to craft Stahlrim, with the idea of inheriting the smithing business, and become the blacksmith of the village.
An attack from a frenzied werebear put an end to such humble ambitions, the attack was just the consequence of the raising influence of an ancient warlord, Miraak, the First Dragonborn, returning from his exile at Apocrypha, and ready to conquer the lands that he failed to conquer on the Mythic Era.
Krein was dragged into the conflict, as Hermaeus Mora; the mastermind behind the old Dragon Priest; was after the ancient knowledge of the Skaal, whom resisted with all they have against the Daedric prince, Daedric Prince that was known among the Skaal, as the Enemy, the antagonist of the Creator.
The consequences of that battle, the lines that Krein had to cross, will forever haunt him, and forced him to abandon the island, and travel to Skyrim.
A price must to be paid for victory, and Krein paid it, in full.
Such price?.
His name,. His life. His world.
In Windhelm, he meet Durak, one of the new members of the Dawnguard, and joining an organization like that sounded mighty fine for Krein, it had a sliver of the discipline and organization of the Legions, but, after showing how Krein worked best alone, or in small squads, Isran let him do his thing, as long as the vampire ashes continued flowing.
And the ashes did continue flowing.
Vampires are nasty creatures for the most part, there are very, very, rare exceptions, those that understood the curse that run through their veins, or those that got sick a tired of the eternal cycle of violence and feeding, an eternal game of domination with zero chance to achieve anything resembling fulfillment or happiness.
A loser's bet, if Krein has ever saw one. Neither was lycanthropy, for it will sent the beastblood into the Hunting grounds, transformed into their beast form, and hunt for the rest of the eternity. For some people, that was a blessing, for others, it was a nightmare, but for the Daedric Princes, pebbles don't get to vote about the avalanche..
Reaching the cells were the dusted vampire hold his possible thralls, Krein raised an eyebrow at the state of the last living survivor of the many kidnaps that the nightstalker leech did all over the hold.
The reason why Krein learned about the refitted vampire lair, was how the vampire had kidnapped a valuable contact of Krein inside of Windhelm, Krein did not dare to use the word friend to describe his relationship with the contact. In the past, due to common associates, not entirely moral, but an unfortunate necessity to be wary of any situation that might occur outside of the common folk eye, Krein had to work with the lass in several occasions.
There was a reason why the vampire had chosen that particular woman, among all the possible ladies of Windhelm, reasons beyond the mere try to impregnate a woman, any woman. Nay. The exterminated vampire wanted a pureblood, Altmer vampire-born, so to speak, and instead of going for one of the many female Thalmor agents and Justicars around Skyrim, the vampire went for the Altmer that lived in the capital of the rebellion.
The merchant was a staple on the market of Windhelm for a decade after the Great War, now, she was a citizen of Windhelm that everybody knows, and had done business at some point. The woman was the contact that the Dawnguard had in the city, well, one of several, but she also had contacts with the Thieves Guild, and with all kinds of navy business all over the Hold and beyond.
That did not matter to the nightstalker, that just wanted a fertile Altmer woman to try to produce a replica of the Grey Prince, but of pure Altmer blood.
Niranye fitted those criteria and was at the reach of the vampire.
The Altmer woman was on the bedroll of the cell, face down, ass up, presenting her hindquarters to be mounted like a cat in heat, and moaning like a drunken nymph. The aphrodisiacs that the vampire had feed her with had hit her like a hammer, and right now, Niranye was, basically, a bitch in heat. Her fingers blurred in and out of her flooded labia, as she moaned and bit on the mattress, unable to achieve release from the burning in her loins.
Unfortunately, the alchemy concoctions that the vampire used are pretty potent, and even if Krein knocked the lass down, the moment she was awake, she will be back at square one, riding any sod that crossed her sight. The only remedy was to give her precisely what she craved, otherwise, she will be trapped in that state, unable to get release.
With a simple command, Krein's armor and clothes went back into the ring, leaving him almost naked; his boots were still on him; before he pushed the doors of the cell out of the way with a telekinetic pulse.
Telekinesis, the spell that Krein mastered long time ago, and that had evolved into being a unvaluable tool for basically everything, from combat to all kinds of chores, tasks, crafts, or anything that Krein could need.
Niranye listened to the door of the cell opening, and with hunger in her mistified eyes, jumped at the mostly naked muscular nord in front of her, and proceed to suck on the mighty cock of Krein with loud abandon. Krein let the lass slurp at her leisure, it must be said that Niranye was very adept at the art of oral sex, and Krein found himself quite impressed with the tongue talent of the drugged Altmer.
With a telekinesis pull, once Niranye had managed to raise the cock of Krein to its full mast, Krein levitated the whinning woman, that desired to continue sucking virile nord genitalia, but the whines of protest, soon become whines of mind blogging orgasm, when Krein proceed to plunge the flods of Niranye to their limits. The Altmer woman hanged from the torso of Krein, her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist, as Krein completely dominated her.
Using the fine buttocks of Niranye as leverage, Krein raised her up and penetrating her again, and again, and again, hitting the deepest parts of her womb, and filling her to the brim with the greatest meat sword that Niranye has ever experienced in her life. There was no subtly, to delicacy; rutting may be used as word to describe the kind of mind blogging sex that Krein put Niranye through for all the time that was needed for the altmer to finally collapse under the cavalcade of orgasm that she was experiencing.
A veritable pool of sexual fluids formed on the floor of the cell. Niranye's cum and Krein abundant ejaculation pooled at their feet. Any witnesses of the event would be flabbergasted at the amount of seed that Krein was capable of ejaculate, but it was a curious contrast between the two. Niranye had been cumming non-stop, a constant flood of feminine cum running down the legs and waist of Krein, and when Krein finally reached his climax, the man cum by the gallons.
Cleaning both of them with magic, Krein dressed up a thoroughly satisfied Niranye, put back his gear up, helmet included, and carrying the incoherent, but blatantly static, altmer merchant, in a bridal carry, Krein commanded the rest of his conjured servants to vanish; storing all the loot on Krein's ring for later check it and made inventory, and opening a portal, Krein walked out of Gallows Rock, and into his manor on Windhelm.
The rift was a magic that Krein used a lot of quickly move all over the country, and for Krein's steward at Windhelm, it was an already common sight to see the rift opening, and the lord of the manor walking out of with it.
Jokingly, the steward usually commented how common was as well, to see Krein bringing a glowing damsel in distress on his arms.
Unfortunately, Krein was in for an unpleasant surprise.
The moment Krein stepped out of the portal, an arrow went for his heart, but thanks to the embedded protections of the armor of Krein, the arrow did not pierced through the enchanted alloy of Krein's armor.
Raising an eyebrow, Krein frowned in disgust, at how his steward was kneeling at the side of the room, bruised and battered, and a trio of Silver Hand warriors; unmistakable due to their silver weapons; were already prepared to kill him.
The swords of Krein materialized out of thin air, and Krein proceed to let the weapons turn the rude invaders of his manor into mince meat.
If there was something that annoyed Krein was rude guests like that, but, well, silver was not cheap, and lo and behold, idiots carrying pounds of silver walked right into his home.
Now, if Krein could discover how, by the Nine, had managed these three idiots to slip into his home, and wreck both his steward, and his stuff, he will be able to hunt down, and pay whoever is responsible for this in the same coin.
It was only fair, after all..