Split (1)

train · 180k rows

text stringlengths 0 41.4k
"That’s not an answer."
"No, it’s not." The cold calculating look in her eyes only grew in intensity. "I watched you tear several errdegahren apart with little more than your bare hands after transforming into Shar-knows-what. While I myself have partaken in the drinking of blood it has only been for ritualistic or religious ceremonies. You ate that thing’s flesh and consumed it in a hunger that I have never seen. Not even from a starved illithid."
"I have no idea what an illithid is, but I know what you mean." I paused, chewing my lip nervously as she seemed to stare into the recesses of my soul. "I am a Vampire."
"Vam-pyre?" she asked, brow furrowing and her fingers drumming on the hilt of the knife somewhat slower. She seemed unfamiliar with the word but not of what it represented.
"There are stories in the Underdark of beasts that hunt in the depths, preying on the weak or those who lose their way. Even the duergar and illithids fear those that prowl the darkness. Bodies are occasionally found drained of all their vlos; their life-force stolen and consumed by the creatures. The bestial slaggiss kill in an orgy of dismemberment while stories of the invisible heethir'ku and their myriad of forms are told in hushed whispers."
"You however," her finger pointed directly at my chest. "You are something different."
"I am a vampire. My curse is now to live off the blood of those I kill or feed upon, left to be nothing more than a nocturnal parasite and unable to exist in the sun for the rest of my life." With a dark snigger I nodded to her. "at least in that regards we almost have something in common now."
The sudden look of confusion was not lost on me and she tilted her head. "Unable to exist in sunlight? What nonsense do you speak?"
"I can’t exist in sunlight. There are dozens, if not hundreds of different tales of vampires throughout Tamriel but there is only one definite fact for certain. Vampires cannot exist in sunlight at all, not for anything more than a handful of seconds."
"I don’t bloody lie! Why by the Nine would I lie about something like this?"
"I cannot ascertain your reasons within that enfeebled mind of yours Jaluk, but I know this. While you were sleeping earlier the sun managed to break through the clouds and the smoke for the better part of an hour. That other than the fact to get away from the sycophants that have dogged my steps since entering the city is the reason why I came in here. The light still gives me pain and burns my eyes, but you?"
Her eyes were narrow and face turned into a snarl. "You bathed in its radiance without the slightest blemish to show for it! You can’t stand before me and say that it can do you harm and kill you. I know what I saw."
I stood there stunned, looking between her, out the door and at my hands still clad in their destroyed gloves. For what felt like an age I tried to comprehend what she had told me, trying to believe that she was lying or deceiving me. While she may be harsh and arrogant she was openly honest to the point of blunt rudeness about most things.
"It matters not." She said before I could press her further. "I carried your useless body out of that hell as I still have need of you. The fact that you drained that creature is nothing compared to what you did to it and its kindred afterwards. I underestimated you and although I know that you are not the same being as the one that entered my prison a fortnight ago you are still the best chance of me surviving the surfaceworld. This is an alliance of convenience and your eventual betrayal has changed form, not changed in its likelihood."
With a dexterous twirl the dagger flipped in the palm of her hand and she slid it into its sheath. "You will betray me, like all the others but instead of hungering for my body you’ll hunger for my flesh and blood." A bitter laugh echoed in the room. "And this at least explains you actions and strange looks you have been giving me since we met."
"I don’t intend to betray you Viconia."
"The Man may or may not, but the animal inside you? That’s different. I will continue to accompany you but I am better prepared to face you now that I know what your true nature is."
She deftly gathered the pieces of her equipment off the bench, attaching it back to her belt or stuffing it into pouches muttering to herself in her native tongue. "Nindyn vel’uss kyorl nind ratha thalra elghinn dal lil alust."
"If we continue to spend time together then I guess I will have to learn to speak Drow."
"Good luck with that Jaluk." Her tone was half superiority and a tiny part challenge, throwing the straps of her pack over a shoulder casually. "Now let’s go find this priest."
We made our way out of the ruins back into the courtyard where, true to her word the sun was beginning to break through the clouds and smoke and allow shadows to flit and race across the ground. Despite all my instincts and unease I forced myself to stand utterly still as a patch of light rolled across with the clouds, illuminating me in the sudden warmth. Unlike the previous days were my skin would feel hot and tingle as though I was quickly becoming sunburnt there was now nothing out of the ordinary. I stood there with my hood and coif pulled back into a mound of metal and material at the back of my neck, feeling the heat and light with no difference as I had over the dozens of years of my life. The inexplicable fact that I could exist in the sun flared a tiny whickering flame of hope in me before the now-constant desire and lust for blood scratched at the back of mind, sated for the moment but ever present like the beat of my heart.
The enormous cathedral was the largest building within the city, even despite the loss of the upper levels of its belltower. Giant and bronze the broken bells lay in amidst the rubble where they had fallen, their voices now silenced and their cries replaced with the minor tolling from the handful of others scattered through the city in the smaller chapels and churches. The cathedral had been a beacon of hope in amongst the terror and devastation and dozens, if not hundreds of survivors had found themselves inside during the daedric invasion, ushered in by the handfuls of priests that lived within its massive stone walls. Thick, unyielding and as strong and formidable like the city fortifications it had stood resolute as the daedric hordes had spent hours unsuccessfully attempting to gain entrance and slaughter those inside.
Stained glass windows depicting saints and Aedra were shattered, their crafts that had stood through wars and plagues for thousands of years now nothing more than shining gemstones of glass on the ground. The doors were pitted and burnt but still unbroken and nearly every piece of furniture inside had been used as makeshift ramparts and barricades to block the daedra from entering. Viconia and I made our way inside against the steady of flow of people coming out to feel the sun’s warmth and see what remained of their city, but the numbers that remained inside were humbling.
Like most other major cities, especially within Cyrodiil, enormous crypts and catacombs were built underground and could only be accessed from inside the cathedral. It was in these cold musty depths that dozens of survivors had been steered by the priests and where they had been safe and mostly unaware of the devastation that had occurred on the surface. Kvatch’s catacombs were enormous due to the nature of the city and the towering mesa that it had been built on top of, and as a result most of the survivors had spent the entirety of the siege near their ancestors and those whose lives had preceded them. Even though a majority of them were leaving the building a lot still remained and the Legion had turned the cathedral into a combination of a homeless shelter and hospital. Healers trained in the art of restoration and a handful of Battlemages, identifiable in their legion plate and coloured hoods made their way through the press to where they were needed. Others, such as surviving city guards who had been lucky enough to be inside the cathedral when the city fell made their way through the press of civilians, carrying wounded and what little supplies were available for distribution. The sounds of crying and weeping and the groans of wounded echoed alongside softly spoken prayers and even the sound of a choir in the far reaches of the massive structure.
Viconia and I almost went unnoticed, the press of people and the mutual suffering of all those present meant that they all had other things on their mind despite knowing of the deeds of the "Hero" and "Heroine" of Kvatch. A few made eye contact with us as we carefully moved through the dozens around the interior of the main entrance but few seemed to recognise us. A weary looking Redguard merchant, his overweight body squeezed into a set of brigandine armour saw us and touched his fingertips to his forehead, lips and heart in one fluid motion with the same amount of respect and deference as a Breton would knuckle his forehead or a legionary tap his fist against his chest. I nodded my thanks and noted how despite the fact that he was not a soldier in any interpretation of the term, he had a well-used sword scabbard at his side, a fresh series of scars down his arm and his armour had been rent by some collection of daedric claws. He had obviously chosen to be among the few to fight for the city even despite his shortcomings and I knew that there would be hundreds of other such individuals who had stepped up to the challenge of Kvatch’s darkest hours.
One of the brown robed priests made his way through the press and I hurriedly followed, lengthening my stride until he was close enough to hear me amongst the babble of noise echoing within the expanse of the temple.
"Can I help you my son?" he asked, looking at the two of us with the expression of someone who had seen far too much but wasn’t allowing his mind to dwell on any of it.
"We’re looking for someone and trying to find anyone who can help us."
"Many of those here have lost friends, family and loved ones, but I will help where I can."
"The man we are looking for is a priest of your order." I replied, eyes still roaming the press for anyone who might stand out. "His name is Martin but we have no idea whether he survived or not."
There was a smile, honest if weary. "He lives, and in fact there are a large number of those here who owe him their lives due to his actions. He’ll be about here someplace."
I gave the priest my thanks as he motioned for us to follow after him as he weaved through the people sitting, standing or moving about on the tiled floors. There were entire families and countless individuals within the expanse of the cathedral’s interior, most sitting about calming children or staring blankly at nothing. Others ate what little supplies they were given and even in one spot a gaudily tailored bard stood with an extremely batted lute and softly played it with reasonable skill. The instrument appeared as though he had used it as a club and the bloodstain up the front of his tunic attested to the fact that he might have been of far sterner stock than the usual travelling minstrels. At one point I had to step to one side to not have a small group of children run into me as they played tag between the adult’s legs. A Bosmer child, less than 5 winters old chased after a Khajiit cub and a dark-skinned redguard toddler of roughly the same ages, their laughter raising the spirits of those around watching them. All of us adults could easily marvel at the resilience of youth but despite knowing that these children would be plagued with nightmares for quite possibly the rest of their lives, for the moment they knew nothing more than the simple pleasure of playing with others.
"If it wasn’t for brother Martin most of those here would be dead I believe." Our escort briefly paused and motioned throughout the room and sighed. "While everyone else was panicking and fleeing he was as calm as though he was going for an evening stroll, walking about and directing everyone inside even as the city began burning."
I pushed past a small group, seeing the expressions of surprise at Viconia and my appearances in their midst as I listened to the priest. "He was so calm, ensuring that everyone in the plaza came inside and as the groups fleeing the daedra coming over the walls started arriving he made sure they made it to safety as well. I am proud to say that he almost singlehandedly led the defence of the Cathedral. It was his ideas that allowed us to barricade the doors and windows and I saw him at least twice rally the groups defending them to push the daedra back. The tally of the dead would be far higher without his leadership."
We followed the priest to where a collection of individuals were being treated for their injuries, the undressed form of a legionary among them with the black legion mark visible above a broken elbow. A handful of robed healers and priests of Akatosh were amongst the wounded, changing dressings and healing with tiny glows of magicka or simply soothing fears with words and conversation.
"Brother Martin?" our escort said, and I saw how one of the grey-robed acolytes of Akatosh turned and rose from where he was talking to one of the groups before us. Quickly excusing himself from the conversation he walked over, exchanging a bow to our escorting priest and looking at us somewhat warily but with obvious recognition.
"I heard how you both helped the guard and singlehandedly closed the remaining Oblivion gate." He said, voice soft and strangely soothing. "This city owes you a debt of thanks."
"I guess we both will have to get used to acknowledgement." I replied, feeling strangely sheepish at his attention even as I studied his face intently. There was an obvious resemblance to the Emperor but only if you knew to look. "But we didn’t come here for that."
"Really?" as he spoke I was becoming more and more convinced that this man was the one we sought. "I doubt anyone has travelled expecting to find themselves in Oblivion and saving the survivors of a city, but in that case what did you come here for."
"We came looking for you, unless there are any other priests here named Martin?"
"I’m the only one by that name and yes I’m a priest. You two don’t look like you need a priest and even if you were I don’t think I’ll be much help to you." His expression suddenly hardened as though carved from granite and I could see the tremble of barely contained rage run down the length of his body before it was supressed. "I’m having trouble understanding the gods right now. If all this is a part of a divine plan, I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with it."
The more I studied his features and even the way he spoke and held himself made me entirely sure that we had found the man we had come for. He had the same facial features, the same build and especially the same piercing eyes that stripped you down layer by layer and left nothing hidden from sight. My scrutiny didn’t go unnoticed though and those eyes roamed over the both of us with growing suspicion.
"God’s or not." I replied, motioning to not only Viconia and myself but everyone within the cathedral. "We need your help."
A bitter laugh was initially all I got in response. "If you came to me for help, you’re more of a food than you look. Take a look around, what good is a priest amongst all this?"
"We’re not here looking for a priest." Viconia said from beside me, looking thoroughly disinterested and increasingly bored. "We’ve come for you."
The look of unease in his face seemed to build and I could see his scrutiny intensify. "Looking for me, why would you come looking for me?"
"We’re working for the Blades." I replied and saw the unmistakable tremor of fear shake him to the core for a heartbeat before he regained control over his emotions with an impressive amount of will. "You are Uriel Septim’s son and we came to get you."
The expression of fear was suddenly replaced with outright disbelief, and a suspicious amount of relief that was unusual in itself. "Uriel Septim, as in Emperor Uriel Septim?! You think the Emperor is my father?"
He shook his head and turned to walk away. "No. No, you must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer."
"The daedra came here for you." I stated simply, watching as he stopped in mid motion with the look of a man who knew more than what he was letting on. It felt exceedingly strange as I openly voiced my suspicions though. "It’s a little overkill I know, but razing an entire city to the ground to kill one man is an efficient way of doing it."
For a second he was stunned, looking around and obviously taking in the sights and smell of death and destruction that we were surrounded by. "All this death.... Because I’m believed to be the Emperor’s son?"
I nodded simply, seeing the strength suddenly deflate out of him as he looked between the two of us. "You... You aren’t lying. Either of you. It... It’s strange... But I think you might actually be telling the truth. What does all this mean? What do you both want from me?"
"We were contracted to take you back to safety. Back to the Blades near Chorrol." Viconia said. Giving me a shrug as I glanced at her. "it was meant to be a lot easier than this."
He looked at her almost as though he was seeing her for the first time. Her beauty was incredible to the point of distraction but it struck me as though that he was used to seeing past external appearances and personalities. "You destroyed the Oblivion Gate, they say." He said simply, chewing his lip and rubbing at the stubbled goatee with a grimy hand. "You both gave this city hope and helped to drive the daedra back."
There was a definite pause as he thought deeply and thouroughly before speaking again. "Very well." He nodded. "I’ll come with you. How soon do you plan to leave?"
"How soon can you be ready?"
His glance around the room spoke measures more than simple words ever could. This was his home and now like many of those around us he would soon be leaving it all behind to an unknown future. In his case however he was going with a pair of total strangers to a destination not of his choosing. "I’ll gather my things and meet you near the gate in an hour. There are some goodbyes I need to give first."
"Pack lightly but prepare for a lengthy journey on foot." For a moment I wondered just how exactly we were going to escort a priest through the depths of the Great forest or even by a road bound to be clogged with refugees. Instead I noted the way he straightened his back and I could see that he was not a pampered man of the cloth and had a body well used to exertion. "Between the two of us we’ll have everything we need to get to Chorrol but it’ll be a rough couple of nights."
"Nothing as rough as the last two nights I believe." The three of us grinned at his words and I gestured to Viconia and myself. "I’m Kaius by the way, and this is Viconia."
"I know of your names. There isn’t going to be a soul within the county by the time the sun sets who hasn’t heard of your actions here and at least I know that you’ll look after me. I doubt I’d be safer surrounded by an entire legion than escorted by the two who braved oblivion and saved a city."
He must’ve caught the sudden look of embarrassment that I failed to crush and gave a knowing smile. "I won’t be long." He promised, nodding thoughtfully to the two of us before turning and moving through the press.
"Did you see that look he gave you when you said we were working for the Blades?" Viconia muttered, rising a shapely eyebrow and folding her arms after he had disappeared itno the priests’ quarters. "That was fear if I have ever see it."
"You saw it too?" the sense of disquiet building inside of me could not be squashed. "Just what we both need, another traveling companion with secrets to hide."
"Nindyn xuil szeoussen shlu’ta veldri byrren." She replied. "Those with secrets can hide others. He might be a little strange but I doubt either of us have to worry about him."
"Meaning you trust him more than me."
The glare I received was almost burning with intensity. "Your perception, as always is humbling Jaluk. One must wonder how you ever managed to make it this far."
"And your faith in me is a comfort that keeps me warm at night." I turned on my heel and began making our way through the press. "Let’s go get ready for the trip. I want to be away from the city before we make camp tonight."
"As you wish, veldruk..." she spat, her icy glare ever present as she too followed after me into the sight of a city filled with death and fire.
We stood just outside the gatehouse near where the Oblivion Portal once stood, waiting and watching the crowds of people shifting and flowing out of the wounded city for Martin. Most of those who had survived the destruction were choosing to leave the city with whatever they could salvage rather than wait for famine and plague to start running rampant. Legionaries and city guard could be seen at regular intervals, steering the flow and ensuring that fights and arguments were stopped before they could become disruptive and ensuring that the constant stream of men and materiel travelling into the city was not slowed.
Messengers had been sent telling of the victory and requesting aid for the hundreds of refugees and survivors, the passage of the information helped along by the Imperial watch posts placed every 20 kilometres along every major trading route. These posts, manned by a handful of guards were little more than a bunkhouse, a stone watchtower and stables containing several dozen horses at any time. Messengers would ride a horse between the two, travelling the distance at a canter in an hour, in 30 minutes if they didn’t spare their rides before handing the wax-sealed messages onto the next rider or simply changing horses instead. This system, used since Tiber Septim still strode the earth ensured that messages could travel across the breadth of the Empire in days, in less if the news was important. It wasn’t unheard of for messages being sent from Leyawiin in the far south of Cyrodiil to Solitude in northern Skyrim arriving in less than 2 days that left a trail of dead or broken winded horses along the route.
I knew that the news of what had befallen Kvatch would’ve reached the Imperial City easily by the time Viconia and I had entered the Portal, and the news of our actions would reach the entirety of the Empire by the end of the week. Even such organisations as the Black Horse Courier would send the word as far and wide as they possibly could. I felt strange at the recognition that would soon be afforded to us, especially when assisted by the fact that I had noticed a young Mage etching our likenesses into wooden slates as we waited for the priest. With a combination of illusion magicka to project our appearances onto the slates she burned our portraits into the wood with a tiny hint of flame from a fingertip, as easily as sketching with charcoal.
When he finally arrived I noticed the change about him, the reluctance was obvious but he had obviously steeled himself for the journey and the uncertainty of his future ahead of him. Dressed in his ankle length robes, now with the hems permanently stained with the soot and ash dusting the streets and a single rucksack containing personal items, he was almost invisible in the crowds.
Noticing us as I waved to him, he wandered over, the strap of his pack over one shoulder and looking nervously at Viconia and my appearances as we were both no longer taking chances. Both of us were fully armoured, leather and padded cloth under layers of chainmail, swords and other pieces of equipment making us both appear more as grizzled mercenaries or even highwaymen than the two individuals who had stopped a daedric assault on the city. Dressed in robes and leather boots obviously made specifically for him he seemed comparatively naked, especially in weaponry.
Viconia had managed to find a set of plated boots and steel greaves as well as a breastplate. The breastplate finally managed to hide a significant portion of her femininity and beauty in a way that simple cloth and chainmail found impossible. I had managed to find a new sword to replace the one I had snapped inside a dremora’s ribcage, and had returned the bow I had fought with to its rightful owner. Lucky for me however I had managed to find a suitable replacement, a double-curved hunting bow made from a compound of bone and laminated wood that would’ve been the envy of Bosmer. Finding new equipment was unfortunately easy due to the fact that the thousands of corpses were being stripped of everything of value in preparation of burial, cremation or entombment. In several places in the city the stacks of grave goods towered over those individuals adding more items to their bulk. Such examples of depressing sights like piles of shoes, almost two metres tall and over twelve wide at the base was unfortunately becoming a common occurrence throughout the city.
"So this is it then?" Martin said as he wandered over to us and looked every bit as nervous as I expected. "I suppose that I don’t have a choice in all this?"
"Not in the slightest." I replied.
Viconia looked up from where she leant against the towering city walls. "You’re coming to Chorrol if I have to drag your unconscious body by the ankles all the way there."
Martin went to laugh until he saw that she wasn’t joking but stating a fact. The chill that went up my spine was shared by the priest.
"She doesn’t seem to like me." He whispered as he moved closer, keeping an eye on her as she pushed away from the wall and threw her pack onto her back.
"Don’t take it personally." I replied, fitting the leather case carrying my unslung bow over my shoulder and holding onto the strap. "She hates everyone. She’s indiscriminate like that."
"Should I be concerned?"
I shook my head, making a noncommittal grunt as I did so. "If she wanted you dead, you’d be dead. We’ll get you to Chorrol and to the Blades."
"And then?" He was concerned at my mention of the Blades but not as seriously as he was earlier.
"Your guess is as good as mine."
We set off into the gathering gloom of the evening, leaving the destroyed city and its volcano-like plume of fire and smoke behind us as we retracted the path we had taken from Chorrol. Martin stopped only briefly as we rounded the South-Eastern portion of the walls where the slope of the ground rose up to the plateau, looking back at the city and its gates with what I gathered to be a mental spoken farewell. Together our trio made it several kilometres away from the city, heading north and to the foreboding rolls of green that spread across the horizon, and the rolling mountain ranges of the Colovian Highlands.
Making camp as soon as darkness fell, I lit a small fire in a tumbling gorge where a stream had long since carved and then dried up hundreds of years before. In amongst the rocks and grass the three of us soon passed out, both Viconia and I mutually choosing not to worry about sleeping in shifts for the first evening at least and allowing ourselves the first proper nights’ rest in over a week. At that point I could’ve fallen asleep on a bed of broken grass and for the first time in days my dreams were blank and empty instead off filled with carnage and blood soaked horrors. Viconia seemed to sleep as though dead but we couldn’t say the same for Martin and as we woke for the first rays of dawn creeping over the horizon he looked even worse for wear. I knew that he wouldn’t have issues sleeping for the night to come after a full day’s march awaiting us and so we quickly ate, drank and began the soul-sapping process of placing one foot in front of the other.
The first day went well, despite the reduced speed that Viconia and I had grown accustomed to. Martin, while surprisingly fit and not at all what I expected for a man of the cloth was still not used to such overland travel. Viconia especially soon began to grate at the less-than-rapid pace that we set for Martin’s benefit, travelling comparatively less than two thirds of the distance per day that we had managed on our journey to Kvatch.
For the second evening however I had managed to lead us to a small running stream that had made its way from its birthplace up in the Colovian Highlands. It cut through the rolling hills and between the spires of rock that dotted the landscape, making its lonely way south in amongst the thickening vegetation of the Great Forest taking hold. It was a tiny affair, less than a half a dozen paces across but chest deep in places and providing the opportunity to wash off a week’s worth of travel dirt, daedric ichor and grime that we had accumulated. Taking it in turns we individually stripped off everything, scrubbing ourselves in the flowing water before washing our clothing and whatever else we could the best we could manage. Martin and myself found ourselves sitting near the fire, both incredibly weary from the journey and the occurrences over the previous days. He sat in a kind of stunned silence, looking into the fire as I carefully butchered the trio of rabbits I had managed to hunt during our travel.
I doubt that he was interested in watching me skin and gut the tiny creatures, stuffing their bodies with a collection of pebbles I had found to assist in cooking them in the campfire’s coals. But at that point Viconia was noisily pulling her armour and clothing off piece by piece, muttering and assumedly swearing in her native tongue as she pulled it all off where blood and sweat had stuck it to her skin. I too found more interesting things inside the tiny bundles of offal and fur sitting in front of me as she finally managed to haul her shirt off with a staccato of curses that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Out of the corner of my eye and nothing else I watched her stomp off barefoot in the direction of the creek, her clothes and leather under layers piled up in the crook of her elbow while wearing nothing more than her pants.
"She’s an unusual one." Martin muttered as the sound of Viconia entering the water in the darkness at our backs echoed.
I snorted, poking at the campfire and dragging out some of the burning coals in readiness to cook. "I notice how you didn’t try to stare."
"I’m a priest. We’ve above that sort of thing." there was an amused twinkle in his eye as he regarded me expressionlessly. "What’s your excuse?"
"I value still having eyes and all my bits attached."
He laughed this time, an honest one that was at odds with the way he had been the entirety of the day’s march.
"How much do you know of the world?" I asked him suddenly, getting the coals and rabbit ready to cook.
"That sounds as though you have specific knowledge you are seeking." He watched hungrily as I placed the rabbits into the coals and the smell of their roasting meat was instantly filling the air. "I’m not as knowledgeable as an acolyte of Julianos but I may be able to provide some answers."
What do you know of the Drow?"
"Ah." He replied, nodding a head in the direction of the stream. "You want to know more about your companion."
"Knowledge is power."
"Indeed it is." Pausing for a moment he motioned for me to pass him a dagger before starting to draw lines in the cleared dirt in front of us. "I only know a little as there is far too much in this world to be known by any one man, but I have read of some of the wonders that exist in Mundus."

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

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