Split (1)

train · 180k rows

text stringlengths 0 41.4k
"That’s a hell of a blade." I said simply, handing the sword to the bemused orc as he laughed at the sight of me wielding such a weapon with apparent ease.
"You’re bloody strong for an Imperial." He said half-jokingly, giving me a quick glance as the building commotion behind me snagged his attention. "Ugh... What in Zenithar’s name is going on now?"
I turned, looking over crowds in the marketplace scattering aside from a large group of armoured warriors marching through the plaza. There was nearly a dozen of them, all fully armoured and carrying an array of weapons clasped to their belts and shoulders. Every single one of them were clad in blackened suits of armour; some full plated suits that would not have looked out of place on a knight, and others in various boiled leathers and chainmail that jingled with every step.
"Ah shit." The orc smith muttered behind me under his breath. "Here we go again."
As the armoured group marched with distinctive purpose towards us the crowds scattered in their wake. Impressive and intimidating in their armour the Blackwood Company members cleared a path, knocking people aside indiscriminately without any form of restraint. A crash of pottery echoed through the marketplace as a trader’s cart was overturned and screams and shouts of pain were clearly audible over the press.
Jaw clenching and teeth grinding in my head I watched as one of the company shouldered his way through a young family struggling to herd their children out of the path of the armoured warriors. Towering over them the Altmer sellsword didn’t even bother slowing, punching the father in the face and kicking his daughter in the stomach with a permanently ingrained sneer on his elven features. The child’s mother was left screaming and trying desperately to calm her child who looked barely over ten years of age while her husband was left sprawled out on the cobblestones.
One of the armoured company members leading the group was visibly shorter than the others, who overall seemed to consist mostly of Khajiit and Argonians. The Wood Elf leading the group was only just coming up to my shoulders and that was only because of the heavy boots he wore.
"That’s them." He said simply, gesturing to Viconia and I as the rest of the people in the marketplace found pressing business elsewhere. All of the traders were trying to move their laden carts and wagons and the orc smith had made a hasty retreat into his store where the sounds of locks being snapped shut were clearly audible.
The sound of the voice brought immediate recognition and I laughed loudly at the Bosmer dressed in a suit of Blackwood Company armour. "Maglir! You turd sucking arsehole! Is this where you ended up?!"
He paled visibly, shrinking in statue as it had appeared that he had his hopes resting on being unrecognisable in his new armour and with his helm hiding his face. Despite the relative newness of the Blackwood armour, it still somehow managed to appear to be at least two sizes too large for him. Completely ignoring me, the rest of the party stepped forward until the smaller Bosmer was lost in the middle of a wall of blackened, burnished metal.
An Argonian with the build of a salt water crocodile stepped forward, bristling in his own gleaming black plate. He was easily twenty kilograms heavier than me even without his armour and I suddenly found myself wishing that Viconia and I had worn our own for our walk in the city. We only had our swords clasped to our belts and nothing more than clothes on our backs, against seven fully armoured and armed Blackwood mercenaries and the cowering Maglir.
"You’re not welcome here, Hero." The Argonian hissed, drawing the words out menacingly. I couldn’t help but think of the snake I had seen in the market the day previously as the Khajiit drew it from a basket with a flute. The short frills that trembled on the lizard’s neck and head were extremely familiar.
"There are two of us here you know." Viconia said with a cold expression and without the slightest hint of concern in her voice.
"You don’t count bitch."
The glare that she gave the muscled Khajiit standing beside the Argonian would’ve killed a lesser creature and she folded her arms neatly. The expression mightn’t have changed but I could feel the simmering fury burning deep within her. Like the rest of the fighters apart from Maglir, the Khajiit looked large enough to punch his way through a pine door and there was no fear from any of them. Not that any of them should have been feeling any fear in the situation. Three Khajiit, two Argonians, a towering brute of a Nord with a massive beard and scarred face, a foul looking Dunmer and the tall Altmer all dressed in their armours and weaponry. All of them against a pair of unarmoured individuals carrying nothing more than their swords. Against anyone else it would have been an impossible situation but I could already feel the immense strength and speed of the vampire threading its way through my muscles.
"Leyawiin doesn’t need you, nor does it want you." The Argonian continued, ignoring the way Viconia and I stood facing them down. "The Fighters guild doesn’t need any more scum filling its ranks."
Gesturing to the group of them I laughed in his face. "Judging by the company you keep, it looks like you have the monopoly on scum."
There was long drawn out hiss from the lizard, like a pot coming to boil and I didn’t even bother keeping the smirk off my face.
"Well then, looks like we’re just going to have to teach you a lesson." Stepping forward from the group the Dunmer swaggered in Viconia’s direction, looking over her with his thoughts plain on his face. "We’ll take your woman and whatever else you’re carrying. You can have her back once we’ve finished taking turns."
I suppressed the laugh that I had at the paling expression on Viconia’s face. Mistaking it for fear, the Dumner moved even closer, the uncontrollable lust evident in his eyes as he grabbed for her wrist and shoulder. The Argonian watched me intently, seeing how I stood totally unconcerned at the unfolding events and realising with a start that something was wrong when I could no longer hold back my grin.
The word of command to the Dumner was cut off even before it exited his mouth as the dark elf suddenly started shrieking and dropped to his knees. As he grabbed Viconia by the wrist she had twisted his arm into a lock, wrenching it with a series of pops and cracks before stepped backwards from the man. Blood spurted from the horrible injury to his wrist; the hand bent right back until the bones had split the flesh and left his palm and fingers pressed flush with the underside of his forearm. Despite the chainmail and netch leather that he wore it had also appeared as though a new joint had grown in his forearm as everything below the injury flopped bonelessly like a dead fish.
Screaming and clutching at the terrible wound, the Dumner knelt before the now visibly livid Drow and her expression of utter hatred and rage. Digging her fingers into his scalp and grabbing a fistful of hair she punched him right in the face, mashing his nose in a spurt of blood before delivering another four blows that left the dark elf comatose and bleeding into the cobblestones.
Shaking her fist to remove the stinging impact of the blows and to flick away the unconscious fighter’s blood from her fingers she stepped back, staring at them all as though she was daring them to try something else. Everyone except for myself seemed to have been transformed into statues bearing expressions of disbelief and amazement her reaction and how quickly she had disabled the fighter.
"No killing." I said, looking over the group standing before us wearing expressions of soul-consuming rage.
"You are hardly in the position to be giving orders!" the Argonian roared, pointing at me with a clawed digit.
"I wasn’t talking to you snake." I gestured to Viconia massaging her knuckles. "I was talking to her."
Rolling her eyes at me I saw how she rose herself up onto the balls of her feet, relaxing her body in preparation for fighting. "Ula. Have it your way. They might wish that they were dead after I’m finished."
To the utter astonishment of the Blackwood Fighters Viconia and I launched ourselves at the remainder. Not waiting for the group of them to attack we instead took the initiative, charging the armoured group and yet not drawing our own weapons. They had come to force us out of the city, perhaps delivering a beating beforehand as murder was not something that they wanted to hang for. While they were carrying their weapons none of them reached for them even despite their surprise.
I cracked my knuckles across the face of a snarling Khajiit, feeling flesh separate on a fang even as the furred creature staggered backwards holding its jaw. Dodging a rushed haymaker from the cursing and snarling Argonian I swept his legs out from under him, proving to everyone that without my armour I was a lot faster than any of them could manage. The metallic impact of the lizard slamming hard into the ground was felt through my legs even as I blocked a different attack from the bleeding Khajiit. The catperson was deadly with his attacks, swiping and pawing and kicking with all the strength and agility of a mountain lion. Using his claws to deadly effect he consistently struck at my face in the attempt to disorientate me, as anyone in a fight instinctively sought to protect their sight. He was quickly turning into a fur covered blur of movement, twisting, twirling and darting and all the while trying to sink his claws into my bared flesh.
Roaring and spitting curses of such force and description that I struggle not to imagine his words, the tall Altmer strode into the fray. Two metres tall and thin in comparison to the other members of the Company he used his size to his advantage; kicking out with his long legs with bone shattering force. As tall and powerful as he was, he had neither the speed or agility as the Khajiit or Argonian who was slowly picking himself up from the ground, but he made up for it in sheer power. Against someone like myself with the increasing speed and strength of the vampire flowing through my limbs it was not going to be anywhere near enough.
Ducking under a massive forward kick I felt the wind of his armoured leg brush past my face. The kick had enough strength to shatter wood but after missing me it had left him dangerously overbalanced, allowing me to grab him by the ankle and push the leg up and back towards him. With a half-cry of surprise, he teetered precariously as I pushed up until his leg was higher than his shoulder. There was a moment of flailing panic in the tall elf before I took his other leg out from under him, dropping him painfully onto the cobblestones.
Behind me the sudden bruising impact of a fist into my ribs knocked the wind out of me, and I staggered away with one hand clutching my side as I parried off the following attacks from the Khajiit. Taking full advantage of the opening as I dropped the Altmer, the furred fighter had come in swinging, thankfully putting himself between me and the hissing Argonian who finally got to his feet. Blocking a series of blows from the Khajiit I twisted around, grasping the Argonian by an outstretched wrist before twisting and throwing him headfirst into a cart full of pastries and baked goods.
The cart overturned, catapulting food in all directions and turning the Blackwood Sergeant’s burnished armour into a riot of flour, sugar and various coloured jams. The increased swearing was not pleasant from my downed foe as he swiped his muzzle free of clinging cakes and icing, hissing with hate and frills and teeth fully bared.
My minotaur leather boot smashed him back into the mess with a squelch, and I backhanded the Altmer as he too struggled to rise to his feet from where I had dropped him. With the both of them down for the moment I spun, using the short few seconds to deal with the growling Khajiit.
Punching my fists out, I smashed into his guard with a pair of lightning quick punches and mashed my knuckles into the cat's face with a solid right cross. It staggered back, blinking the sudden wave of tears out of its eyes as I spun on my heel, turning full 360 degrees and using my momentum to smash a wicked backhand right across its jaw. I felt bone break and teeth splinter as I smashed it right off its feet in a furry and dazed mass of pain. It lay there, gurgling through the blood flooding its mouth and I saw with grim satisfaction how its jaw was now very obviously broken and limp. A simple boot to the head put the cat into blessed unconsciousness and left only two dazed attackers left.
Viconia had already knocked three of her assailants down. The massive Nord fighter was on his knees choking on a crushed windpipe, and the second Argonian was completely out cold and almost completely buried under clothes where it had landed in a market stall. Of the two Khajiit that had rushed her only one was left standing, the other laying on its back cradling a leg that was now very obviously jointed the wrong way. All she had left was a female Khajiit who was giving her an even fight as they both sparred with brutal and effective moves. As for Maglir; he was the only one keeping out of the fight, trying his best to pretend to be invisible and watching in horror as we bashed our way through his comrades.
The Argonian was the next to go down despite his skill and armour. Surrounded by the shredded remains of the cart’s wares and trying to rise in the slippery remnants he could do little as I stepped closer and knocked him out cold with a kick to the side of the head.
Suddenly alone, the tall Altmer found himself facing me down by himself and the bloom of fear in his eyes was obvious. Facing a capable adversary alone and more used to bullying his way through to favours he panicked, looking about for help from his unconscious or disabled comrades for a moment before drawing a dagger from his belt.
In a heartbeat the fight had gone from a brawl to one of deadly seriousness. No longer content on delivering a simple beating even if he had the capability to do so, he was now concerning with inflicting as much pain on me as possible before fleeing from the scene. Lunging out with the gleaming blade he cut the air with short, economical strokes, forcing me to step backwards again and again to put distance between me and the angry elf. The blade cracked through the air with the sound of tearing silk, narrowly missing me each time as I refused to draw my own blade.
The fight and the sounds of commotion was drawing every guard within several blocks to race through the crowds. Surrounding us were dozens of onlookers watching with a mixture of astonishment and pleasure at the sight of Viconia and I laying the Blackwood company members out cold in the cobblestones. Judging by the heavy handed nature of the fighters and the way that the Altmer especially had simply bashed his way through a family they were not the most popular group in the city. The odd one or two cheers or exclamations of pleasure were obvious where we inflicted some form of physical punishment onto the fighters even as the guard pushed their way through the press and started shouting at us all to desist.
Waiting until the guard had arrived to lay witness to what was occurring I suddenly changed tactics. Now that the authorities had arrived to bear witness to the group of Blackwood Company members laying on the ground from their failed attempt at assaulting us I knew it was time to finish the fight. Especially with the sight of the fully armoured Altmer swinging a knife at me, I knew that it would be hard to prove anything other than the fact that Viconia and I had been fighting in self-defence. Exceptionally effective self-defence by the sorry states that the seven members had been left in.
"It’s not as fun fighting someone who can fight back... Is it?" I snarled at the Altmer, goading him on and ignoring the way the nearby guardsmen shouted at us to stop.
Ducking under a sweeping slash of the blade I laughed at him. "Maybe you should go back to beating up kids. That seems to be the only fair fight you’ll ever have."
Roaring, he kicked and slashed his blade at my face, now yearning for nothing more than the sink the edge into my flesh and draw my blood. I felt my face tighten, arms bunching with barely contained strength as I snapped my arm out and caught him by the wrist.
In his full suit of blackened armour and a full head taller in height the Altmer appeared to be the stronger of the two of us. Even as the guard moved across the opened space surround the brawl there were few who would have believed that I had the advantage. Bunching and rolling under my skin, the enlarged muscles of my right arm became visible to all as my archer’s strength was infused with the power of a vampire. Screaming the elf was forced to his knees as I twisted and clenched my fist until the bones of his wrist were ground together.
"Drop the blade." I hissed at him, staring as he whimpered and tried desperately to break the grip that my fingers had on his wrist with his free hand.
I punched him in the mouth, looking down on him as he knelt before me with his knife hand held out and above his head in my iron grip. There was second of terror in his eyes before it was swallowed up by pain from his busted mouth and crushed hand, but I didn’t see anything else except the sight of the young Nibenese woman comforting her crying daughter in a hug.
He looked into my eyes as they hardened with anger, not understanding the darkness of the emotion that swirled behind them. Snarling and feeling the tingling of my jaw I crushed his wrist with my growing strength, forcing the hand to pop open and drop the dagger from nerveless fingers.
To the horror of the kneeling elf and those watching, I snatched the falling dagger out of the air with my free hand, twirling it in my fingers before punching it into the meat of his forearm. His eyes went wide with the dual pain of shattered wrist and the knife buried in his bicep, before screaming and dropping away from me.
Spitting on my downed adversary I felt the tingling of my jaw and teeth fade away, looking over the sight of the handful of armoured guards edging their way cautiously towards Viconia and I. Eight Blackwood Company fighters were on the ground, either unconscious or suffering debilitating injuries that they would not be walking away from. Viconia and myself were surprisingly unwounded with little more than a collection of bruises and scratches to show for the fight. Maglir had vanished in the confusion, leaving behind a small pile of torso armour where he had shed it to allow himself to disappear into the growing crowd before either the us or the guard got to him.
A trio of guardsmen moved closer to me, discipline canes and batons held in gloved hands and looking somewhat nervous.
"Don’t move." One of them said in his best commanding tone. "You are all under arrest and will have to come with us."
He looked about at the carnage strewn about and the moaning and screaming fighters arrayed on the ground and the fact that my sword was still clasped at my hip. It was obvious that he was imagining the massacre that could have occurred if I had used Sunchild rather than my fists and his expression filled with apprehension.
"Please?" he said quietly enough that only I could hear, and I smiled slightly while raising my hands.
As a result of the public brawl, both the entirety of the Fighters’ guild and the Blackwood Company were placed under house arrest and confined to their respective headquarters in the city. The word of how Viconia and I had laid waste to the group that outnumbered us four to one was spreading through the city like wildfire, stories from eyewitnesses and exaggerated tales soon being repeated in every taphouse, tavern and street corner.
By order of the Count, the guilds were placed under lockdown, the Blackwood members who we had fought being placed under arrest and expecting prison sentences for starting the brawl. For most of the group they would only see the inside of a jail cell after they had gone through several weeks of intensive care and healing. As for Viconia and I, there was no doubt that we had fought in self-defence with the way how we had been unarmoured and with dozens of witnesses attesting to the way that the Company had started it. Both Viconia and I found it humorous that several ranking members of the guard had private discussions with us, stating that next time we got involved in a brawl in the city they’d appreciate if we could consider not crippling our opponents. There had been some complaints from a few of the vendors about their loss of stock and damage to their property and the way they had to mop up the blood staining the cobblestones. From what I heard though, the cleaning and repair bill had been delivered to the Blackwood Company to the amusement of the members of the Fighter’s Guild.
The fight and the minor injuries that I had sustained had worn on my nerves turning the desire for blood from a dull murmur in the back of my skull into a yearning need. Through experience I had been growing accustomed to the needs of my body, predicting when the thirst would grow too strong to contain and when the best times were to satisfy it. Between my abilities in the darkness and my minor abilities with restoration I could feed with impunity, only taking lives when I wished it. The disgust with the way that I was now subconsciously considering all within the cities and lands we travelled as cattle to be milked to sustain me ate away at me, but there was no denying my nature.
During the evenings I sat in the room on the upper floors of the Fighters Guild, feeling the growing thirst even as I tried to suppress it by reading one of the books kept within the Chapterhouse. Poorly written and one of the many stories of previous battles and wars, it was a common enough book in an organisation more interest in coin and fighting. There were rarely any types of novels or fiction that I was coming to enjoy, and there were no writings to further my growing knowledge of the world.
Viconia lay sleeping quietly in the double bed, dressed in little more than a nightgown due to the stifling heat and humidity. After the fight with the Blackwood Company the day prior and the training we had undertaken through the hours of enforced lockdown she had retired relatively early. Choosing to sleep, it gave me a few hours to lose myself in my own mind, sitting at the tiny table with my feet up and book resting in my lap. With little more than a lantern providing light and the feeling of a breeze through the opened shutters I sat there quietly, listening to the sounds of a city slowly going to sleep for the night.
The church bells began to peal the midnight hour, the smaller bells almost appearing as tiny chimes to the bronze throated roars of the monsters in the cathedral several blocks away. As the twelfth toll echoed through the streets and quietened houses I rose from my chair, dimming the lantern’s light by closing the shutters slightly. My day clothes had been ruined somewhat in the scuffle with the Blackwood Company, the blood of the high elf having stained down my side after stabbing him with the knife. Within the numerous wardrobes and chests scattered through the guild I had managed to find another couple of sets of clothes my size while my usual set was laundered. Changing from my linen pants I used for sleeping in during our stays in the cities I quickly dressed in a brown-grey set of pants and long sleeved shirt, pulling them tight with a spare belt and slipping on my minotaur leather boots. All of my armour, weapons and equipment were left where they were in their chests and leaning against walls as I felt the embrace of the darkness grip me tight.
I had learned that although I could change my form at will into a flock of bats or into a cloud of mist, the more I wore or carried, the more exhausted the transformations would leave me afterwards. Dressed in nothing but a shirt, pants and boots I moved like a ghost, sparing a single glance over to Viconia’s lithe body as she lay sleeping before letting the beast loose and slipping out the door.
There was the usual moment of attraction that the beast had for her, the half-imagined desire to crawl up over the top of her as she lay on her stomach on the linen sheets. There was the taste of her on my tongue and the memories of our activities during the nights over the week previous and knowing exactly how delicious she tasted. The thought of pressing my fangs into her throat and drinking while simultaneously making love to her was almost overwhelming, but with a deep yearning ache in my gut and loins I closed the door silently behind me.
The shadows beckoned, and I floated down the hall towards the stairs leading to the ground floor. The Guild had been built out of solid stone but even if it had been made from wood my nature ensured that not a sound of my passage would be heard. Draped in shadow, the handful of faintly burning candles weren’t enough to reveal me and I shifted my way through the halls listening to the dozens of snoring and sleeping individuals.
Statustius, an aggressive looking Imperial with his hair streaked with silver prowled the chapterhouse during the evening hours. Missing a hand from a battle many years ago he was the porter; remaining in service to the Guild as nightwatchman and overall master of the chapterhouse and its finances. While the years were beginning to take their toll on his body in its slow descent to frailty and fat he was one of the few individuals that the local members did not cross. With both eyes kept open as he stalked the guild for thieves and other malcontents he failed to notice me sliding through the shadows even as I moved in front of him. There was a momentary shiver from the aging mercenary as I coiled around him like a snake, feeling the intoxicating pump of his blood through his veins as I reached out and weaved his will into my own. With the merest thought, I sent him off deeper into the building and away from the entrance before evaporating into steam and heading for the door.
The two city guards outside of the entrance visibly jumped as the doors creaked open and they ended up sharing curses between themselves at the state of the door and its urgent need for repairs. Apparently by their muted conversation, the door opening on its own had been a regular occurrence all evening and neither of them noticed that the evening mists grew thicker around them. With the streets thick with an increasing fog rolling in off the marshes and rice paddies, I was even more undetectable than clad in the shadows. Without a glance at the grumbling guards ensuring the fighters remained in lockdown, I faded into the back alleys of Leyawiin.
My senses grew and I returned to my shadowed form several blocks away from the chapterhouse, gliding my way through the streets and hiding from the light of the burning lanterns and braziers. I could sense the hundreds of inhabitants sleeping comfortably within their homes, content and dreaming peacefully with only the rare nightmare breaking their thoughts. Both moons was full in the sky, but their light was no threat to revealing me and I crossed open plaza's and the city's squares with impunity.
The choice on whom to feed was overpowering to the growing mental strength of the beast. With the strange sensation of being trapped before a banquet with the heady smell and sensation of beating hearts around me I struggled not to salivate and kick in the first door I moved past. With such a selection of an entire city before me I could feed on the elderly, the sick, the frail, the young, the strong, the powerful and the just. All could potentially feel the sensation of my fangs cutting into their jugulars but it wasn’t resistance from my humanity that held me back.
After my battle with the Vampires of Nornalhorst and seeing the sickening lows of depravity that awaited me, I no long sated my thirst on just anyone or anything. Seeing the cannibalistic insanity that awaited me if I fed upon the beasts of the wilds and the sick I was no longer content with feeding on the first individual I came across.
Slowly I moved around the courtly form of one of the many women of the night, breathing in her scent and feeling her heart start to race as her sixth sense picked up that something was amiss. Feeding on whores and other people who ply their trades during the night had been an easy way of sating the need for blood over the previous months and I enjoyed the thrill of her proximity as I surrounded her. She gasped softly as I gently caressed her mind with my will, running a clawed digit up the softness of her breast where they had been crushed upwards and together by her corset. The wetness of a tongue ran up her throat that left her knees weak before I left her standing in the darkness, edgy and unsure of what had just come over her. Instinctively hastening her way towards the nearest source of light she moved from my reach as I grinned from the depths of the shadows with a maw of fangs, letting her go and knowing that finer meals awaited me.
Heading in the direction of the towering wall of Leywiin’s castle and stone keep I continued my passage through the darkness. Once again shattering a superstition regarding my curse I crossed the moat without hindrance; proving that the ancient stories of vampires being unable to cross flowing water utterly false. At such an hour the gates were closed, their steel portcullises securely jammed down with their massive weights and keeping the castle secure from outsiders. To a normal mortal thief or assassin the walls were almost unscaleable, lacking nearly any form of handholds or grooves. The walls, five stories in height and their well patrolled battlements ensured that only a member of the Dark Brotherhood would ever consider attempting the climb.
Blackened claws of ivory tipped every finger and I scaled the walls like an arachnid, effortlessly hauling myself up the sheer edge and sliding over the crenulations like a liquid. In less than a dozen heartbeats I placed my boots on the upper level of the battlements, looking about with my eyes revealing the castle in all its majesty.
Allowing my limbs to relax and remove the mild burning of exertion of climbing up the wall, I looked over the sight of a fortress rising from the edge of the city. Separated from the rest of the city by a moat ten metres wide and enormous drawbridges, Castle Leyawiin was built almost into the bay itself. To the south lay the port with its jetties and docks filled with trading vessels and their rolled up sails, and the east was the enormous river mouth and estuaries of the lower Niben. Dozens of kilometres across only I would have been able to see the far bank with my vampiric sight, but the clusters of islands could be seen by all.
Behind me Leyawiin slept peacefully, the flickering beats of hearts appearing as tiny, red flickering blurs to my eyes. I knew that it was not my eyes, but my ears that were detecting the mortals in their homes and beds but somewhere in my tortured mind it left the rolling afterimages on the edges of my sight. Smoke coiled from bakeries and smithies and the handful of chimneys venting the last ashen tastes of the evening meals into the sky shuddering with the rolling thunder of bells. One hour past midnight, the single metallic rumble echoed into the depths of the night, vanishing over the sea of rice paddies and plantations of sugar and tobacco.
Four times the size of Fort Grief, the Castle was large enough to house an entire legion’s worth of tents in the courtyard with space to spare. It had been built specially to control the access into the Niben as the only sections of the river mouth and bay deep enough for shipping ran within four hundred metres of the outer walls. While towers were placed are regular lengths around the walls there were fat clusters of the rounded structures on the eastern edges. Each were covered with misshapen mounds of canvass where the thick coverings protected the tall arms of siege trebuchets and catapults underneath.
Every twenty metres a tower jutted from the stonework, blocking the walls and battlements into more easily defendable expanses that any besiegers would have to take one at a time. Thick doors of imported oak and locally hewn timbers from the depths of Blackwood were set into the base of every tower, providing access to the living quarters for the men-at-arms and professional soldiery in their hollowed-out depths. Each tower was a maze of passages and doors, the rooms themselves providing platforms for archers and crossbowmen to hold off attackers through the series of arrow slits and loopholes.
Sliding along the battlements between the two towers I had climbed between, I felt and heard the sleeping men-at-arms sleeping within. Along the walls the muffled clank of armour and jingle of chainmail announced the handful of soldiers patrolling the walls in their attempts at ensuring that the evening passed without incident. In such a place the number of potential victims to my curse were limited, but were of a much greater stock than the teeming multitudes in the city below me.
Choosing to climb over the tower instead of attempting to gain entrance through the closed and locked doors built within them, I scrabbled over the tower. Moving around the canvassed catapult built into the roof of the tower that smelt of oiled wood and sinew I peered over the edge of the crenulations, looking at the single figure slowing making its way along it’s lonely vigil. From my position on the roof of the tower I could see little details of the figure, but the growing hunger pains were not going to be denied for much longer. As the armoured form of the night guard turned to stare out over the northern fields I climbed over the wall, dangling for the briefest of moments before dropping four metres and alighting without a sound.
Without a torch to light her passage, and relying on the handful of braziers strategically placed along the walls with their embers slowly dying of starvation there was no way that the soldier could see me in the shadows. Sliding up behind her I looked over her shoulder at the gleaming lights surrounding the enormous fortress-monastery of the local Knightly Order, feeling her heart beating in her chest and smelling the aroma of oiled metal and old leather. Obviously well into her shift I could feel the fuzziness of her mind from the evenings embrace and the way that she continued blinking away sleep in the early morning chill made itself felt. Well used to similar guard duties during my time in the Legion I knew all too well how the night shifts played on the mind, the lack of noise or movement making it difficult for the mind to remain focussed. Alone on top of a secure castle in one of the most militarised cities in Cyrodiil, surrounded by the snores of dozens of her comrades-in-arms there was no sign of any danger even with a vampire in the shadows at her back.
Only a few years my junior, hair and features and traces of her femininity hidden beneath layers of chainmail, leather and surcoat there was little to separate her from the dozens, if not hundreds of other soldiers. Only through my enhanced senses could I smell the youth and strength and the purely female scent that radiated from her flesh despite the accoutrements of war.
A shiver ran through her, the spear and shield strapped to her arm shuddering as the limb trembled. While cooler than the heat of the day it was strangely comfortable nonetheless. Some hidden, dormant instinct within her had alerted her to the danger of my presence and she turned, blinking confusingly and finding herself staring into the reflection of her face in my eyes that were less than arm’s length away.
The momentary surge of fear that consumed her mind was crushed by my relentless will snaking out of my mind and through her eyes. There was a stiffening of muscles no longer obeying the commands of their owner, a tensing of instincts and muscle memory forged in hundreds of hours of training before everything relaxed and went slack. The grimace of battle-readiness transformed in the smile of one seeing an old childhood friend, and she leaned against the parapet as I stepped towards her.
Under control of my will, deep and terrible with the darkness of my soul she was devoid of fear and instead other emotions bubbled to the surface. As soft as the breeze I slid fully from the shadows, hearing the scrape of metal rimmed wood as she placed her shield against the crenulations and wrapping our arms around each other. The dangerous charisma of the beast within me was unnaturally strong when unshackled, and while used to looks of desire in the recent weeks they were nothing in comparison to the enticement of the vampire.
I pulled her close, feeling the jarring metal plates of her armour and the solid layers of chainmail under the belted surcoat even as she sighed quietly in my ear. Jingling and chiming, her nasal helm and attached aventail was pulled from her head before being placed softly on the top of the wall before pulling the leather hood back and letting her hair flow in the evening breeze. Slightly shorter than myself and skin containing the merest hint of Nibenese bronze from some grandparent, she might not have been considered one of the most beautiful in the city but outside of her armour she still would’ve turned heads.
Hair cropped short in the style of the legion brushed against the side of my tightened jaw as I pulled her close into the embrace, smelling the perfume of her flesh and sensing the increasing beat of her heart from my proximity and touch. Clawed and terrible, a finger traced its way down the curve of her jaw and lines of her throat, drawing out a gasp of pleasure. Shivering at the touch that portrayed the deep seated lust of the vampire’s presence she groaned huskily, running her hands down my back and digging her gloves fingers into my ribs and spine. There was a growing need inside of her that matched my own, despite the difference in their natures and subjects of desire. The groan that she had been holding back rolled from her throat as my lips and tongue began their spiralling journey down her throat.
As her legs opened instinctively and I pressed between her armoured thighs I gripped her by the waist and the back of the head, running my fingers through her hair as she arched her throat. Tracing the vein with my lips she sighed loudly as I gave her one last, sensual lick before burying my fangs in the flesh of her throat.
Shuddering and moaning with a mixture of pain, horror and overwhelming pleasure she twitched in my arms, simultaneously pulling away and drawing herself closer to the intrusion of my fangs in her neck. Bubbling around my piercing incisors the blood welled and flowed into my mouth, leaving me to do little more than gulp and swallow the hot coppery fluid. Our eyes mutually rolled into the backs of our heads as we embraced with my feeding, and I continued to swallow as the feeling of warmth spread and strengthened my body.
Within seconds of drinking my fill a shocked cry of alarm reached my ears and I tore myself away from her throat. Unseen and unheard during my feeding, one of the tower doors had opened as one of the other castle Men-at-arms continued with his own shift. With less than a dozen metres separating between us he had initially believed that he had stumbled across his comrade in the middle of some illicit tryst in the deepening hours of the morning but my appearance put that thought to rest. In a dawning realisation that left him scrabbling for the hilt of the sword at his hip he made a strangulated cry of horror and revulsion, staring into my eyes and instinctively recognising me for what I was.
With blood streaming from my lips and mouth and covering my chin with gore I released my grip on her and hissed my displeasure at the interruption. The all-consuming rage threatened to take control as the beast dearly wanted to leap upon the terrified guard and bear him down to be drained. Somehow, resisting the urge and retaining the small semblance of humanity within my cursed form I staggered backwards, hearing him shriek and scream on the top of his lungs of the threat within the castle walls. The sound of bells began ringing from within the nearest gatehouses as those within began sounding the alarm without the awareness of the danger, and I twisted between the two of them. I looked between the soldier wielding his drawn longsword in unsteady hands and the young woman I had been feeding on as she slid down the wall holding the wound on her throat. What control I had over her had been completely severed with the discovery of my feeding and she sat heavily onto the stones, staring with mind consuming terror at my darkened form and significance of the pain in her neck.
I roared on the top of my lungs, breaking into a sprint that only a horse would have been able to match in speed at the guard standing in the tower doorway. Howling so loudly and terribly that everyone within earshot would suffer nightmares for the weeks to come he dropped his sword with a clatter, all his instincts consuming his thoughts and training to leave him dropping to the ground in a huddle. Crying with terror at what he assumed was to be his death he didn’t even lift his head as I leapt over him, my clawed digits sinking into the upper reach of the tower in a single leap.
In the darkness on top of the tower I wrapped the shadows around me and vanished from sight. Pealing sounds of bells and the questioning shouts of guard commanders echoed up from all around me as the entire castle was awoken from its slumber. The cries of "Vampire" mobilised dozen of guards and men-at-arms who exploded into activity, streaming from darkened doorways bearing fresh torches even as they rushed to dress and arm themselves. Within a minute of the first cry breaking the quiet of the evening I had already dived off the walls, leaping into the open space without hesitation. Exploding into mist and reforming with less than a metre from the ground allowed me to land with all the ability and grace of a Khajiit acrobat.
Speeding through the darkness I struggled not to feel terror of my own threatening to consume my soul. Animalistic and feral, the vampire yearned to shed death but was also fearful like a fox being pursued by hunters. Cursing myself for my arrogance and stupidity of feeding in such a dangerous location I swore constantly, fearful for being recognised while somehow retaining a confidence that while transformed I was more beast than a man. Very little of my humanity remained while the vampire wore my flesh as its own and the fact that I could survive sunlight would confound any potential accusers.
Choosing to clamber up the sides of the Guild’s chapterhouse rather than braving the front door with the growing wave of unrest and alarm spreading through the city I made my way up the three stories with far greater ease than the sheer castle walls. By little more than my own mentally formed maps of the interior and my intimate knowledge of Viconia’s unique heartbeat I slid inside our shared room, peeling out of the embrace of the shadows and closing one of the windows behind me.
The slightest hint of a click announced the closing of the window’s latch barely reached past my ears, and I felt the rough wood grain pressing into my forehead as I breathed heavily and willing my heart to stop racing. Adrenaline surged through my body, rippling it with its embrace while the might of the vampire slowly slid into the recesses of my mind. Idly I licked at the blood that still stained my lips and chin, feeling the guilty surge of pleasure at the taste on my tongue.
The presence in the darkness shifted slightly and I whirled around purely on instinct, all nerves wired and twitching with the anxiety and fear of being caught. I had indeed been caught, but not by some random member of the guild or a stray guard but by Viconia.
She stood in the shadows, the darkness of the room absolute with the closed shutters and the dead candles and lantern. Without my vampiric sight she would have been invisible, her ebony skin merging her form with almost the same effectiveness as I did with becoming one with the shadows.
Like my own vampiric sight, she could see into the depths with greater ability than a Khajiit. Likening it to the magical powers of Nighteye and other enchantments; any form of ambient light was amplified in such a way that the interior of a castle could be revealed to her with a single dim candle. In the pitch blackness of the world’s depths where there was no ambient light, she could also utilise an ability that allowed her to see the heat of her surroundings. This form of vision seemed to reflect the heat she could see as burning lights in her eyes, leaving them glowing red and giving her an unnatural, daedric appearance in the gloom.
The hints of smouldering coals in the darkness narrowed as she looked over my appearance in front of the window, moving forward until there was barely any space between us. There was a flicker of fear from her as she beheld my changed appearance as I forced the last of the beast into the depths of my soul, the last of my transformed visage shifting away, skin and muscled relaxing as my pointed incisors slid back to their original positions in my jaw.
There was concern on her high bones features, looking over me and tilted her head at the muffled sound of bells spreading through the streets as the alarm spread. With her proximity I felt a lump catch in my throat, realising that under the thin layers of the gown that she had hurriedly thrown around her shoulders she wore nothing else.
"I’m guessing that that is because of you?" She asked softly, nodding in the direction of the window and the sounds shattering the silence of the evening. One of her hands floated through the air, caressing my cheek briefly before the sensation of moisture and my instinctive recoil away from her touch separated us.
A strange expression filled her eyes as she felt the sticky, drying blood that still covered my chin and had dribbled down from the corners of my mouth. She carefully rubbed the dark wet patch on her hand, swirling part of it between forefinger and thumb while looking up at me as I turned to wipe the congealing mess onto the back of my sleeve.

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.