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"What is it?" I growled. The young teen on the other side of the door darted his wide eyes from my thunderous expression, to the visible scars on my bare flesh and the way that I held Sunchild by the middle of its scabbard as though I would strike him with it.
"T-the Aedile has r-requested that y-you come at once." He stammered, taking a step backwards and looking ever more fearful as the bed creaked behind me as Viconia rose to her feet.
Her voice was cold and bitter as she walked over to the door. "This better be important."
"A b-body has been found."
Both Viconia and I stopped in mid breath, briefly glancing at each other as the very last of the moment was yet again lost to the whims of fate. In a heartbeat both of us had gone from annoyed, anxious and concerned to deathly focussed. Quickly and wordlessly we gathered our cloaks and hoods, strapping our swords to our sides but leaving most of our armour behind in our rush.
Exiting the tavern and into the village streets we found ourselves part of the growing gathering of people from throughout the village. Lit by torches now that night had properly fallen, the flickering orange glow set the expressions of fear and concern on everyone’s faces in stark contrasts of golden hues and deepening shadows.
"Do you suppose that it will always be like this?" Viconia’s voice had lost the tremble of uncertainty and anxiety but there was still the slightest hint of it hiding within her.
"What do you mean?" The crowds parted in our passage and my cloak billowed around me as I moved, blending me into the darkness with its deep grey-black colouring. She followed close behind as we were led by the teenager, looking about at the growing numbers of villagers.
There was a soft sigh from behind my shoulder and I glanced back to see her brush her hair back and hold it there with her silver headband.
"The two of us, out adventuring within the world. Fighting evil and not having a home to call our own."
"This is not really something that is forced on us forever." I replied honestly and somewhat surprising myself. "Do you yearn for something different?"
Near the edge of the village where the carved flagstones of the highway gave way for the smaller, locally produced cobblestones there was a cluster of individuals leading on a snorting bullock as it pulled a flatbed wagon behind it. The shouts and cries were building with every metre it was pulled further into the village, and we had to start shouldering our way through the press.
"I am not entirely sure. Ever since I was banished from the Underdark I have not known anywhere that I could call home. For now I shall be content in the travelling, and the exploring of the world. But there will always be part of me that yearns for home."
I smiled at her over my shoulder, managing to push through and lay a hand on the side of the wagon, gesturing to the bullock’s driver to stop. "Yearning for "a’ home, or yearning for "your’ home?"
Her mouth curled up in the familiar smile that never failed to send shivers down my spine "A bit of both actually."
"I have never really had a home to call my own since I was a child. Perhaps the day will come where we remedy our mutual problem."
Scrambling up the side of the wagon, she walked over and leant against the raised sides, peering into where I stood over the blanket and the mass that it covered.
"Your friendship is worth so much to me, and it is not something that I am accustomed to." She rested a hand on my bare forearm as I hunched down to lift the blanket and I found myself lost once more in her golden eyes. "Thank you."
"You are welcome Viconia." The butterflies in my stomach I told myself were due to the apprehension of what lay under the blanket and not the emotions I could see in her expression. For a moment I enjoyed the touch of her hand on my flesh, before gripping the woollen layers and hauling it up and revealing what lay underneath.
The stench immediately assailed my nostrils and I felt somewhat queasy to see where the blanket had clung to the sticky gore that coated it. Over a day old, the corpse had lain in the Winter sun which thankfully was the only reason why decay and flies hadn’t colonised it already. Terrible rents covered the torso and arms and the armour that it was clad in hadn’t done much in protecting its wearer. Finger sized chunks of steel plates had been torn out of the leather brigandine, most having been snapped, cut or broken into pieces from incredible blows. The pink of flesh poked through the shreds of leather and cloth, blood having flowed freely and coating the outer layer of the man’s armour in gore which had turned black and tacky in the sun.
"Stendarr have mercy." I murmured as the dozens around us pulled away from the horrific sight, the cries of shock and revulsion at the sight of such an end enough to leave several vomiting in the gutters. It wasn’t the wounds that caused me to mutter the most basic of prayers; but the fact that Viconia and I knew the individual.
His fancy clothes were ruined with a combination of blood and other undefinable materials, the pouches of exotic ingredients shredded and their contents lost. Both sheathes were empty of their swords, but the broken handle of an exquisite rapier was still lodged where it had been jammed into his side. No quiver of bolts, crossbow or travellers pack were strapped to his back, and the thickened bevor of metal around the throat had long since been lost.
Hunched down over his corpse I stared into the wide-open eyes of Threnodir Melainis and perceiving the terror that had sustained him in the last seconds of his life. With building trepidation I stared blankly, feeling the churning apprehension growing at the sight of a single pair of punctures in the flesh of his throat where his killer had completely drained him of blood.
Threnodir Melainis had not died easily. Both gloves were shredded from where he had attempted to fight off his foe, defensive wounds from talons and fangs that pushed deep into his palms. Even the thick armoured vambraces that covered his arms from elbow to wrist were buckled and broken, the crumples forming the shape of fingers where something of impossible strength had crushed his arms in a grip stronger than steel. The throat wounds clearly showed that one of the fiends that he had hunted had managed to transform the hunter into prey, but there were signs that he had given his best before the end. Finely ground into the clothes were grey ashes that had been smeared by the blood that had sprayed from his wounds, showing that whatever creatures had bested him, one of them had died before he did.
There were little of his personal effects left on his person. Nearly everything that we had seen him wearing in Skingrad had been destroyed or was otherwise missing. Even the small collection of rings, both mundane and enchanted were missing after someone had gone to the effort of pulling them off. The creature or creatures that had killed him had seen fit to loot his corpse of any valuables and with some distaste I rummaged through pockets and pouches looking for further clues.
Gathering around in the flickering torchlight the number of villagers increased despite the terrible sight of the dead man in the back of the wagon. The disappearances that had been haunting the region had now been given a terrible face to represent them, one that permanently revealed the nature of the threat they faced. The mutterings that I could hear in the crowd showed that I was not the only one who had noticed or identified the wounds in his throat, and the level of fear was growing exponentially.
"Well, at least we know why people are going missing." Viconia stated flatly and I nodded.
"Yep. And on top of that, it or they or however many there are, seem dangerous enough to kill a hunter of their kind." I continued my patting down of pockets and pouches on Threnodir’s body, finding little of note except for a tiny leather bound book stuffed down the front of his shirt that was mostly intact. "That doesn’t bode well."
"What are you going to do?" one of the villagers standing near us called out to a chorus of similar questions.
"We’re going to wait until morning." Standing carefully on the rocking wagon I jumped down onto the cobblestones and looked around the sea of fearful faces and terrified eyes. "Then we’re going to work out where this fiend, or fiends are hiding and kill them."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that." My grin was made even more horrible in the flickering torchlight. "Only a fool hunts vampires at night. At least during the day we can find their home and kill them while they sleep."
I stood taller, looking over the tops of the crowd’s heads and raising my voice until they all could hear me. "Return to your homes, and look to your loved ones. Come morning, we will finish this."
The current of fear flowing through the village was easily detectable but there was the slightest glimmers of hope amongst the populace. From the reactions it was clear that no one in the village knew Threnodir or his occupation. All they knew was that they had the Heroes of Kvatch and Champions of Anvil staying in the village and that whatever threat prowled the region would soon meet its end on our blades.
With an undue haste the crowds dispersed to the sounds of scuffing feet and the turning of locks. Homes would be barricaded well tonight, but for Viconia and I we simply returned to our room in the tavern. The mood between us had cooled once more, leaving a thin veneer of professionalism and companionship instead of the moment of pure emotion that had passed earlier. With the hour growing late Viconia made the decision to curl into bed, stripping out of everything but her pants and tunic and disappearing under the thin, motheaten bedcovers with barely a glance or word. I instead leaned up against the wall under the slightly swinging lantern, thumbing my way through the book I had taken from Threnodir’s body.
It was a struggle at first to find passages weren’t ruined by his blood. Almost entirely ruined, there was little ink in the book that hadn’t smeared and smudged with his death. Thankfully the last handful of pages were still legible and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the charismatic vampire hunter meeting his fate in such a way. In the flickering light I read softly to myself, peeling the sticky pages apart and reading the last words of a dead man.
It has been my personal quest to find this blade, and restore it to its previous glory. I am afraid that I have failed in this endeavour. I managed to track Lord Volmyr to his lair here in Nornalhorst. It is likely that I will die here, but I write this in the hopes that someone, some bold adventurer will find his way here, and fulfil the task that I have not – to remove the stain Volmyr has put upon this glorious sword.
He has somehow managed, through foul necromantic rites and the assistance of his vampiric sorcerers, to quench its light. I do not know why he has not yet slain me, but I can feel my limbs cooling as the loss of blood takes its toll, and my heart quails to think that my end will come here, at the hands of a vampire lord, with a blade that once was a shining symbol against these loathsome creatures.
I have seen enough to know that they have tied themselves to the Light of Dawn, Volmyr has been sacrificing wave after wave of his minions. And with each death, the blade's light grows weaker. I fear that soon it will fail entirely.
I can hear them chanting now, the sound chills my soul.
With Viconia’s soft breathing as she slept in my ears I flicked my way through the rest of the journal, seeing little more details of any real use except for a crudely drawn map of the region that appeared recently added. Stuck between illegible journal entries roughly after our first meeting at Skingrad, it outlined not only the path his journey took but also his goal. Marked simply with a tiny ink stain in the shape of a cross, notated as Nornalhorst, there was enough detail for me to not only get a general idea of where it was but how far away. Using little more than my own mental map of the area I guessed that whatever Nornalhorst was, it was less than a few hours march near the western tributary of the White River. It was a short journey of less than a day in total and with this in mind I snuggled down into my rough bedroll on the tavern floor, closed my eyes and fought against my wandering mind for sleep.
When morning came and I woke from my tangle of limbs on the floor I found myself alone in the room. Viconia had risen well before I had and was nowhere to be seen. Her clothes, armour, weapons and equipment had all disappeared with her and other than the crumpled bedcovers and her lingering perfume there was no sign of her. It wasn’t unusual for either of us to wake before the other when staying indoors but this was the first time that she had taken all her possessions with her.
Quickly rising and with sleep removing its barbed talons from my mind I shrugged on my clothing and equipment, strapping all the various pieces of armour to my person and feeling the comforting weight return to my limbs once more. Weighed down with my armour, bandolier, pouches and weapons, I threw my cloak over my shoulders and made my way downstairs to the main hall of the tavern.
Ducking down below the bruising base of the hourglass I stepped out into sunlight after finding no trace of Viconia in the tavern. The hour was still early, the sun struggling to be felt through the trees and foliage of the encroaching forests and after such a night the village was still in the midst of awakening. Cooking fires were being prepared, various herbs and teas finding their way into pots and filling the air with the comforting, bitter smell that caught in the back of the throat.
The darkened shape of my travelling companion was seated against the side of the tavern, leaning back against the rough stone walls. Judging by the way the edge gleamed she had been scraping her dagger against the whetstone for several hours now, and there was a threat inherent in the consistent motions.
"Well, I see you are finally awake." Her dagger had less of an edge compared to her voice as she afforded me the merest of glances. "I hope that your pathetic exertions of last night brought at least one of us some measure of pleasure."
I stopped as though I had been slapped, staring at her dumbfounded at the tone and the hostile glare she was giving me. The last time I had seen her look at someone else in such a way had left him vomiting profusely on the ground.
The scowl on her face twisted her beautiful features into a mask of anger and disgust as she leant forward from the wall and continued staring. Dumbfounded I could only stand there in complete shock, my mouth open and trying desperately to understand what I had done to upset her in such a way.
The dagger thumped into the cobblestones as she threw it at her feet. For a second it sat there, lodged into the stone and soil quivering, before my eyes were drawn from it back to her. Every motion she made was filled with vicious intent and I struggled not to quail under her gaze or drop my hand to the hilt of Sunchild from pure instinct.
"I have watched you through the night, and every moment my stomach churned with vileness." Her lips tightened in a contorted expression of hatred I felt as though I was being smashed in the face with a maul with every syllable.
There was a momentary pause as she leant further forward and spat on the ground in front of me. "Your very presence makes me ill."
The eyes of a handful of villagers looked over to us from where they had been going about their business. The tone of voice and the non-too-subtle way she was speaking at me was drawing their attention for a few moments before they thought better of it. I barely noticed them though with how much my world was collapsing in around me until it was filled with nothing more than an angry Drow standing a few metres in front of me.
My shock and surprise was changing now, the confusion being consumed by a burning anger that matched hers in its intensity. Torn apart with my emotions rubbed raw and fuelled by the vampiric side of my soul my choler took over.
"What in the name of Oblivion brought this on?" I snapped, spitting my words forward like they were gleaming spearpoints. "Is this about the kiss? Just because you had a moment of honest weakness doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me!"
The milking stool that she had been sitting on fell aside with a crash as she threw herself forward, kicking up off the ground with less her usual grace and more of the rage that was exploding out of her. "Do not attempt to look into my mind and render judgement il'kahtical!" she snapped, stamping over to me with a heavy tread. "You haven't the strength or knowledge!"
Where the attentions of the handful of villagers had been waning before, the anger in her tone and the way our voices suddenly raised ensured that most of them made themselves scarce. An argument between a pair of heavily armoured individuals was not something anyone wanted to be part of.
"Why. Not. What?" There was venom in her words now as she stared me down. Despite the difference in height it felt as though she towered over me in her anger.
"Why shouldn’t I look into your mind? Last night it seemed as though you were opening it up for viewing."
The crack of her hand across my face echoed through the street like the impact of a smithing hammer against an anvil and I saw stars for a second. With considerable force my whole head had been rocked back, my lip splitting and leaving the searing shape of her palm across my jaw.
There was a crunch of bone and cartridge and she backed away momentarily as the beast rose to the surface. Her anger was contagious and my features restructured in a heartbeat, tightening the skin into a visage of evil. The flash of fear in her eyes was intoxicating and alarming and before anyone could see I quickly crushed the vampire inside once more. For that moment I was suddenly more concerned with the fear she had shown at my curse than the likelihood of being discovered.
Rubbing at my jaw as the last of the vampire shifted into the depths of my soul I saw how the fear had not dimmed the anger she felt. She was almost at the point of seeking my blood and I no longer had the stomach for this fight.
"Fine then. Whatever." My words drew even more anger from her but I was no longer caring, speaking purely from to simmering depths of my rage. "Go if you wish. I couldn’t care less."
I began to turn and she stomped forward a single pace, glaring daggers at me. "Vel'klar l'vith xun you think you are going!"
The journal appeared in my hand as though I was playing a winning card from a deck. Flicking it into her chest she snatched it from the air, glancing at the bloodstained leather with some measure of confusion. For a moment I glanced over her, before snarling and starting to walk down the road. "I’m going to find something to kill..."
There was no reply from her, and no trailing footsteps and the first few dozen metres were the hardest and longest I had ever travelled. She didn’t cry out, call for me to stop or return and made no effort to follow or chase after me. Instead I felt the burning gaze of her expression on the back of my skull even as I pulled my coif and hood over my head and concealed my tightening face behind my mask.
Marching heavy footed from the village, my lengthening stride turned from a straight legged stomp into a jog. Soon the jog turned into a run and as the trees concealed the village from view the vampire rose to the surface and I began to sprint. Armoured feet slamming into the ground with shuddering steps I hurled myself through the foliage, taking refuge from the rest of humanity including my own in the depths of the forest and vampiric darkness.
With incredible speed I surged through the forest, ignoring the way branches plucked at my cloak and the few centimetres of bare flesh free from armour and leather. Her raw anger had cut into me deep and I felt twisted and used somewhat. The tiny whisper of reason in my mind attempted to sooth my emotional hurt but the anger and the hold of the vampire would not hear of it. More than one tree was shattered as I hacked them down with Sunchild, or in one case grabbing a sapling with both hands and tearing it out of the ground by the roots. Before I had travelled more than a dozen kilometres from the village through the forests my knuckles were raw and weeping blood from punching them into tree trunks and my anger had finally begun to wither.
The world was a collection of faded greys and throbbing sources of life to my changed eyes. The vampiric sight working even as the sun continued to rise over the horizon and spear through the canopy. Rising out of the foliage like a grey skinned boulder, the hulking form of an ogre had appeared as shimmering lines of blood and lifeforce in a world with its vibrancy lost to vampirism. In seconds of both of us realising the others presence, the cannibalistic creature was left strewn across half an acre in a collection of shredded flesh, shattered bones and splattered blood.
It was only the creature’s death that finally seemed to satiate the vampire and it slunk back into my mind while still providing my limbs and body with unnatural power. By now I was in the depths of the forest, the castle and the tiny village nestled at its base long since lost to the greenery. Even with such a minuscule distance between me and what passed as civilisation in the region it was truly wilderness. Only the rare few individuals would travel this way; either in search of game as a hunter or poacher, or in the attempt to flee from persecution by the authorities. In the broken hilled region of County Glenvar there was little wealth to be had and the effort of clearing the forests and taming the region for farming or logging was far too difficult to be profitable.
As such, regions such as this were home to the forgotten, the lost and the misplaced. With little more than the memory of a hand drawn map in my mind I travelled through the forest, relying on my vampiric speed and stamina to travel a distance that would’ve taken hours in a tenth of the time. While densely forested the area was still rife with landmarks that made it easy to negotiate. Hills were cut through by streams that varied from muddy cracks being consumed by moss to roaring currents that never ceased in spite of the season. Threnodir’s map had placed the location of the Sword he sought and the site of his imprisonment at one of the larger tributaries flowing north to lake Rumare, and with this in mind I managed to cover an area far greater than what should have been possible.
It was closer to noon by the time I came across anything more than a cleft in the hills, and if it wasn’t for the unnatural angles of the stones poking through the ferns and moss of the forest I would’ve have missed it entirely. Built around and over one of the streams leading from an artesian spring in the foothills to Lake Rumare, the Ayleids had carved their mark into the West Weald. What appeared to be a town or minor city from what little I could discern by the size and configuration of the ruins was losing the fight against the forests. Most of the bricks and stonework had long since been consumed, broken apart and returned to the earth by the entangling and constricting roots of enormous trees. Many of the buildings were ruins, some still stubbornly supporting their roofs and other than the mostly flat regions between them there was nothing to show where the proud streets were once filled with life.
My own sense of direction and Threnodir’s map had led me to the Ancient township, while merely a shadow of the ruins of Nonungalo it was by far greater than the village of Glenvar a few hours travel to the East. Like Nonungalo and most Ayleid ruins, it had been built in the shape of an enormous wheel, the streets creating the spokes and each district converging into the central hub and tower in the direct centre.
Smaller, but still towering into the overgrown canopy of branches and leaves, and central tower was mostly intact. Ancient stones worn down from centuries of wind and rain had been overgrown and left cracked and broken. The stone working expertise of the ancient elves ensured that their legacy would continue on for centuries to come and had left the labyrinthian undercity intact and accessible.
Standing before the yawning portal into the depths I couldn’t help by feel trepidation at what horrors awaited me inside. I felt the tiniest twinges of fear and uncertainty that were only matched by the yearning desire for Viconia’s presence. It was like twisting a dagger in my guts thinking about her and how I felt about her. there was no longer any doubt in my mind that I was falling for her just that bit more every day. After the kiss the night before I knew that the one battle I was not going to ever win was the one against my own heart.
Making my way carefully through the gloom I tried my best to put aside my swirling thoughts to focus on the task at hand. Not matter how much I struggled, the sensation of her lips against mine, the memories of how she tasted and smelled and the feeling of her hand caressing my face was ever present. Even when the vampire rose to the surface and the mask covering my face pressed forward with my lengthening jaws I could still feel the ghost of her touch.
The depths of Nornalhorst were alien and unfamiliar despite the standard style of their construction. The smell may have seemed all too familiar but I quickly found myself wishing for the stench of minotaur spoor instead of the horror that I found myself in.
There was no doubt that these ruins were home to others who shared my curse. The stench of blood and barrows dirt was gagging in its intensity and death was a cloying fragrance that seemed to bypass the mask and nose to worm into the guts. Nausea struggled to gain control even as I was left salivating at the stench of blood permeating through the depths. The ancient welkynd stones were scattered and rare; their light no longer shining for some, others left little more than broken shards where something had systematically shattered them one by one.
Corpses were found everywhere. Some, ancient and rotting were no more than shrivelled, blackened husks of leathery flesh pulled taut over fossilised bones. Others were fresh, bloodless and gnawed upon, throats torn open and long, deep cuts into arteries up the arms and legs to allow dozens to feed at the same time. There were animals, vermin and the corpses of several dozen people scattered about, all in various states of decay and intactness. This was a lair of creatures more debased and animalistic than any minotaur herd or goblin clan.
Within the halls where ancient Ayleids once prepared and held great feasts were now nothing more than rotting slaughterhouses. Decaying meat of dozens of unidentifiable kinds hung from great hooks suspending in the ceilings where they had been rammed into the stonework with bone shattering force. There were signs of dozens of the creatures making this their lair but with every step that I took I couldn’t find any of the creatures responsible for so much death and pain. Empty tombs and worm-eaten wooden coffins were placed haphazardly throughout the undercity, providing nothing more than empty shells for long corrupted beings.
In one hall, two dozen caskets and coffins rested where it they had appeared to have been thrown. Some were shattered and ruined, breaking the legs of carved marble tables and chairs with the impacts and leaving the floors strewn with more than just the detritus of their feedings. The vampire within me was growling now, its warning of danger building with every step even as I folded the darkness around me with its unnatural abilities. With the stealth born of the darkness there was little fear of being found by regular mortals but in such a lair I wasn’t taking any chances.
It was just before I left the ruined feasting hall that I encountered the first of the parasites. Completely invisible to my ability to detect life, it was instead the beating of its cancerous heart that drew my attention. To my eyes it was as grey and lifeless as the stone coffin that it resided in, curled up like a sleeping child and nuzzling a thighbone that had been yet picked clean of flesh.
My guts roiled with the proximity as I slid up alongside the coffin where it lay, the darkness coiling and swirling around me like smoke as I gazed down upon the creature. There was a similarity in our appearances, and so too with the creature that had inadvertently sired me in faraway Vvardenfell. Mine however was infinitely worse a visage, showing the vampiric curse and the daedric corruption that pumped its way through my veins. Like me, its skin was pulled taut over a frame that throbbed with unnatural power and ability, but where I was swollen with strength and vitality, it was wasted and emasculated as though it hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. Each bone pressed out of its taut skin, strips of clothing maintaining what little modesty it had left and overall showing an outward appearance of fragility and weakness.
As the very first of my kind that I had seen in the flesh that wasn’t latched onto my throat I studied the creature, looking over it and burning the sight of such a monster into my mind. It was terrible to behold, but strangely enough I knew that I was by far the stronger. Three centimetre long fangs jutted from between its lips in a grimace of savagery, the bones of its face pushing forward and revealing a high boned facial structure like the twisted union of a Khajiit, Altmer and mummified corpse. Whatever race it had once belonged to there was little left remaining to identify as its cheeks and brow jutted forward, the jaw clenched with unnatural strength and muscles like iron twisting and pulling under its leathery hide as it dreamed of further bloodletting.
My skinning dagger crunched into its temple, the impact jarring down the length of my arm as I twisted the six centimetres of steel in the depths of its depraved mind. There was the sudden look of shock and release in its suddenly opened eyes as the pointed tip of the dagger scraped bone, before light began streaming from deep within its body and the flesh began to combust.
The unnatural flames took me back to the moments in that cave in western Vvardenfell, how the creatures foul blood had splattered over my chest and coated my arm to the elbow as I sawed and ripped the dagger in its torso. Sizzling like fat on the fire the creature burned form the inside-out, the ethereal flames chewing through muscle, fat, organs and skin. From the jagged wound in the side of its skull to its feet it burned, spreading quickly and leaving nothing more than ruined clothing, ash and bones to tumble into a pile in the bottom of the coffin.
I wiped the ash from the blade with the hem of my cloak, shifting through the remains with my gloved fingers and feeling the fine powder swirling as I did so. It was so fine that I had never felt anything of the like but it did remind me of the grey-black slurry that had flowed through some of the rivers one year that Red Mountain had erupted.
Leaving the burnt remains of my first kill I ghosted from the room, sliding through the darkness with a liquid grace and now relying on my hearing over my sight. Confidence was building in me with the way the creature had failed to detect my presence with skills assumedly similar to its own, and the further I made my way through the depths the more of the coffin worms I began discovering.
For every coffin and stone casket that contained a sleeping occupant there were a dozen or more than were empty. It was my hope at least that the words in Threnodir’s journal were true and that most had found their ends in foul necromantic rites. Such a thought was far better than the potential of dozens of the creatures lurking in the shadows, awake and waiting.
From coffin to tomb to casket I floated, like a deadly avatar of death and one by one I sent the souls of the vampires screaming into Oblivion. The smell of burning flesh and ash filled my sinuses, replacing the foul stink of the long dead with its choking embrace. One by one I slaughtered then, pushing my blade into eye sockets and into skulls rather than trusting their destruction to a cut jugular and brushing their remains from my gloves and demi-gauntlets as I went. By the time I had managed to make my way through most of the undercity I had turned the ruins into a crematorium.
With each metre into the darkness, the level of horrors I experienced and witnessed from the undead parasites tore my guts apart. All thoughts of Viconia and my previous anger was washed away in unceasing horrors; instead filling me with a burning flame of vengeance against the monsters. For the most part the vampires that I encountered within the ruin were weak and seemed little more than rabid animals. Wallowing in their own filth, smeared with blood and gore and laying in their individual coffins and tombs, most seemed to choose to live in amidst the death and pain. Some, to my disgust seemed to have fallen asleep where they had been rutting like animals, covering themselves with the limbs and rot of their meals in blankets of misery and torture. Others rested like the dead that surrounded them, filling their coffins with half eaten meals where they had not been content with the liquid pumping through veins. The level of raw cannibalism left me throwing up on more than one occasion, not only from the evidence of such despicable acts but the memories that I too had partaken in similar acts within the shrine of the Mythic Dawn.
Bloodstained altars still stained with drying blood and severed limbs could be found scattered at random through the ruins. Congealing pools of blackish ichor clung to the low laying areas where the streams of gore had flowed, intermingling with other effluents where the creatures had used the channels and cracked pools as latrines. Entire rooms were little more than wall to wall stacks of corpses of men, mer, beastfolk and creatures of the wild that had been drained, gnawed upon and discarded. Many of the corpse piles were wriggling with an unnatural life as fire-eyed rodents chewed their way through decomposing bodies and burrowed their way to make nests in the guts of the dead. I struggled against my continuously rising gorge, using nothing more than sheer willpower to stop myself from continuously wiping at the greasy sensation that clung to my skin and armour.
I misted my way through ancient portals where their doors had long ceased remaining upright, stepping through somewhat familiar corridors that were so similar to Nonungalo that the undercities could have come from the same mould. In the massive expanse of the room before the throne room doors I had been sensing movement and hearing the muffled sound of something feeding.
Enormous and priceless engravings and statues looked down with marble visages onto the creatures defiling their once proud city. Each of them were covered with blood splatters, some long since dried within red-black flakes and others fresh and almost dripping with moisture. In the shadow of the enormous gates the collection of vampires were busily feeding; the first that I had come across in my search who were awake.
Salivating behind the leather mask at the coppery tang of blood I slid through the darkness, feeling the leather sticking to my lips and nose but proving to be little of a distraction. The smell was overpowering but with every step I made deeper into the room it was becoming more sickly and potent, no longer just of blood; but of flesh and other bodily fluids. Where disgust clung to my heart and stomach I suddenly found myself stopping in my tracks, looking over at the inconceivable sight before me at the group of creatures hunched over on the ground in the middle of the entry hall.
The four of them scampered and bickered amongst themselves, pushing and shoving and swiping at each other with lengthened fingernails. They were lost to the thirst, covering their faces with the stuff as they struggled to force more of the ruby liquid and flesh into their maws. Incisors and eyes shining with madness glinted in the darkness where a single varla stone throbbed with lost potency in the high ceiling, but with my vampiric sight I could unfortunately see all too much detail of the scene in front of me.
The four vampires like their recently slain kin appeared immeasurably ancient, but unlike the others these still wore the accruements of their long lost humanity. Their gnarled leathery hides pulled taught over bones that had wrenched their features apart but pieces of blood stained clothes and rusted pieces of armour still clung tenaciously to their torsos and limbs. One still wore a heavily battered kettle helm, pushed back over its forehead to allow it to more easily feed. Their eyes were little more than pools of black fire within sunken sockets with razored fangs permanently splitting their gash-like lips in sickening parodies of smiles.
The true nightmare was in their feeding. Everything that I had learned of my kind, my brief discussions with Threnodir and my own intimate knowledge of the curse never led me to believe that vampires were like this. Even the cannibalistic ogre tribes or troll packs who were renowned for their feeding frenzies of wayward travellers paled in comparison to what I witnessed in those tainted depths.
Their meal was nothing more than the torn apart remains of a young child who was yet to see their tenth winter. Little more than bloodstained remnants of clothing, a mess of bloody muscle and protruding bones remained of her after what could have only been several hours of feeding from the four creatures. Tearing and gnawing on stringy bands of sinew, snapping and suckling on shattered bones for the marrow and snorting through overstuffed, dribbling mouths they consumed her flesh with abandon.
I felt the acidic taste of bile in my mouth at the sight, feeling suddenly faint as I saw one rip out a hunk of flesh and organs from within her peeled-open ribcage. Stuffing its meal into its mouth with scoffing and bared fangs it added a fresh layer of gore that ran down its face and chest in spurts. It was only made worse by the fact that the only part of the young girl that remained untouched was her face with the tiny curls of golden hair and pale skin splattered with flecks of blood. Her face was twisted into an expression of life ending horror and undefinable pain that showed me that she was far from dead when they had begun eating her.
The disgust vanished, the taste of vomit in my mouth fading into nothingness and I lost all control on my bubbling emotions. Rising with the waves of hatred the vampire split the bones of my face, tapering my incisors to vicious points as they slid out of my gums. Sunchild was gripped tight in my fist as I strode forward, the darkness falling away from me with the merest flicker of will and leaving me visible for all to see.

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