UESP Forums

A man waits in a black room, criss-crossed by yellow lines, as Jennifere walks in. The man speaks to her. "Computer, remove door. So Jennifere, ready for the Kobayashi Maru test?"

"Yes Admiral."

"So be it. Computer, begin simulation."

The black, yellow lined room changed in an instant to being a bridge of a Starship, a full crew awaiting. Jennifere talks to herself before beginning: "Holodecks never cease to amaze me..."

A holographic cadet speaks. "Captain, we have a distress signal, coming from the neutral zone."

Jennifere takes the captain's chair. "Helm, take us in."

"Sir, may I remind you the Klingons will not take kindly to a violation of their border."

"Noted. Broadcast a local signal saying we are moving to assist the damaged ship, nothing more. Raise shields."

"Signal sent, Sir, we have lost contact with the damaged ship."

"Great... Tactical, report."

"Shields up, but we have four Birds of Prey on an intercept course, sir we can't defeat..."

"I know. Our ship is no match for theirs, but we have to assist."

"Sir, it is suicide."

"Only if we have to fight."

"The Klingons will only let it end this one way."

"I know. Communications, hail the lead Bird of Prey, on an open channel that they can all hear. Starfleet regulations say we have to try diplomacy first."

"Frequency open."

"Good." Jennifere closes her eyes, and shouts. "Veysun Zii Gron."

The Klingon ships open fire, but the weapons merely pass through the ship, having become ethereal just in time. The Klingons are shocked, and hail them. The one-eyed Klingon Commander surveys their bridge. "Pitiful Starfleet. Leave and we won't kill you."

"No. We are assisting a severely damaged ship, on a mission of mercy."

"You choose unwisely." The Klingon bangs his arm on his chair, as to reinforce his point. Jennifere ignores it.

"Tell me, Klingon commander. Is it not dishonourable to destroy one weak ship with four superior ones?"

The klingon's eyes narrow."Your point?"

"Well, as you no doubt know, you Klingons are a honourable race, so why don't we make this a fair, honourable fight? My sword to your Bat'leth."

"An interesting proposal." The Klingon leans back in his chair, considering her offer.

"Yes. You get your fight, my crew save the ship, everyone wins."

The Klingon leans forward, having decided. "No."

"Fine. I once spent some time on Qo'noS - I met Chancellor Jm'pok. Have you?"

"Where are you going with this Starfleet?"

"Well, I believe he would see your decision as dishonourable. And you and I both know what that entitles your first officer to do." She nods towards the Klingon, knowing exactly what would happen now.

"Fine, you win Starfleet. I will meet you aboard the freighter."

"Sir, the Klingon Commander has cut us off."

"He did exactly as I expected. Take us in Helm, only on impulse, thrusters will remove the ethereal effect..."

"Understood."

The Admiral intervenes. "Computer, pause simulation. An interesting technique Jennifere."

"I was very uncertain about it, I know from practice with a real ship my shouts can achieve the effect, but I didn't know it would work here... But I knew if it did, because Klingons are a noble warrior race, I knew exactly what he would do, and so rather than risk losing his ship, he chooses to face me. Starfleet Protocol says we should seek a diplomatic course before battle - I could see no way to avoid battle entirely, so I chose the fight I can win, rather than the one I can't."

"Logical."

"I presume I've passed, as I could easily take on a Klingon Commander, giving my crew the opportunity to save the freighter."

"Yes. But, you did not complete the test of facing death."

"Upon my world I was a Warrior Queen - challenging myself and facing death is nothing new to me. War requires achieving victory - and that requires fighting only battles you can win, and making battles you can't into battles you can. This is my way of making the Klingons fight the battle I want to fight, because I can reason with Klingons."

"Well, you pass. Report to Captain Taggart, he would like you on his senior staff on the training cruise."

"Understood. Admiral, if I may, how do most people fare with this?"

"Not as well. I've only seen one other person attempt anything like your route, and they couldn't persuade the Klingon to accept the challenge. Your choice of non-Starfleet equipment might have helped."

"Oh, this is just my normal armour..."

"But it is non-standard."

"Point taken, Admiral. Computer, door."

The door appears, and they leave the room.

12th of Evening Star, 4E 201:

After I had my rest in Ivarstead, I set off for Solitude. Since there was no possibility of convincing Jarl Balgruuf to trap a Dragon in his palace with the war going on, I had to fight. I had to fight for one side or the other until the war came to an end. The only question was… What side?

Actually, that wasn’t even a question. The Stormcloaks were based in Windhelm, a town notorious for its racist population; the Dunmer lived in the Grey Quarter, which was nothing more than a slum. Several shopkeepers would not offer their full services to those who were not Nord. It wasn’t my favorite place.

The Stormcloaks fought for the freedom of Skyrim. They wanted to separate Skyrim from the Empire, to pull Skyrim away from the Thalmor… The very group that had outlawed the worship of Talos.

I can’t pretend to understand their motives, but I do know that they are opposed to the Thalmor.

But what of the Empire? The citizens of the Empire were equally displeased with the Thalmor. That much was clear. They wanted to fight. Alone, they stood no chance. United as one? Then they had a chance. If Skyrim were to separate from the Empire, they both would be weakened. That’s what the Thalmor wanted. Even now, with the war that would never end… It was taking the resources of the Empire and weakening any possible resistance.

Those were the thoughts that clouded my mind as I sat in the Winking Skeever, a mug of ale in my hands. What I needed to do seemed rather clear, but I couldn’t help but debate it. Was I making the right choice? Not just for me, but… For Skyrim. For Tamriel. For… The future. The past. Everything.

Gods, my head hurt.

I made my way to Castle Dour as soon as I finished my ale. General Tullius and Legate Rikke were arguing when I arrived, so I waited, as politely as possible, until they were finished. The General recognized me from Helgen. He recognized my resourcefulness and sent me to Legate Rikke. According to her, I wasn’t to go through the usual recruitment process; she didn’t specify what that was, but she did tell me that I was to clear a nearby Fort of bandits. If I could do that successfully, I would become a member of the Legion.

The Fort in question wasn’t too far away. I got there in an hour or two. Of course, there weren’t many bandits there –most were gathered in the prisons- and so it didn’t take me long to kill them all. To make things easier on the troops that would garrison the Fort, I pulled the bodies into the courtyard.

Upon my return to Solitude, I was inducted into the Legion. General Tullius had me stay the oath. And that… Was all that was required. From that point onwards, I was a member of the Imperial Legion.
And… Now it was time for my next assignment. Ulfric Stormcloak was making a move for something called the Jagged Crown, believing it would give him a stronger bid for being High King. It was our mission to stop him from getting it.

The Jagged Crown was said to be buried in Korvanjund. That was where I was to go.

13th of Evening Star, 4E 201:


It seemed a little odd that we were going after something that was little more than a myth, but, if the Stormcloaks believed it was real, then it was best we go after it as well. We couldn’t risk Ulfric getting his hands on such an object. If he did, it had the potential to cause significant problems in the future.

Well, I guess we were going to go through an old Nordic crypt. I had plenty of experience with the ruins. The rest of the Imperial soldiers? I doubted that they made a habit of exploring crypts. Hm. It wasn’t likely that the Stormcloaks were all that familiar with the Nordic tombs either. I would be invaluable to the Imperials.

As soon as I was finished in Solitude, I went straight to Korvanjund. The other Legionnaires were already there and, from what I could hear, the Stormcloaks were as well. One person I didn’t expect to see was Hadvar. Apparently he had managed to get back to Solitude and he was given the same orders as I was. Hadvar seemed happy that I had joined the Legion; apparently he thought he was the one who convinced me. Oh, dear…

Our conversation was cut short –thankfully- when Legate Rikke called us together. She advised us that the Stormcloaks were here ahead of us. It was now our job to kill them and beat them to the crown. We had the element of surprise… And it was something we were going to use to our advantage.

Under the lead of Legate Rikke, the Legionnaires and I struck from the shadows; the Stormcloaks never realized what hit them. I managed to drop several of them with my bow. The other archers brought down the others. At the signal from Legate Rikke, we entered the barrow itself.

There were more Stormcloaks inside. We snuck up on them again. Instead of taking them out from behind, Legate Rikke told us to charge. My blade, perhaps, cut down more of the foe than any other. It was a long blade, but still quick. A flick of the wrist had the potential to become so much more.

Two soldiers were left behind to guard the entrance. The rest of us continued further down into the crypt.

After the Stormcloaks in the next chamber were killed, Legate Rikke sent me to find a way into the next room. She was wary of an ambush; I couldn’t blame her. The chamber which currently housed the Imperial troops was connected to the next with only a narrow hall. It would be the perfect ambush… If the Stormcloaks launched an attack on the Imperials on the other side, they could potentially cut off the entrance to prevent escape.

Fortunately for us, I discovered a second entrance higher up. After that… I took it upon myself to eliminate any threat of an ambush. Each Stormcloak was brought down by an arrow with nothing more than a grunt. I had to go back and fetch the others since they hadn’t heard anything.

As we progressed further into the crypt, the Stormcloaks continued their attempts to stop us. Eventually, we got to a point where there were no more Stormcloaks. We had defeated them all. Of course… By this point, I was noticing more and more signs of Draugr. This wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

And, as it turns out, I was right in my assumption that we weren’t done fighting. The Imperial soldiers were frightened by the Draugr –it seemed as though they had never dealt with them before- and I became a sort of figure of strength for them. Those who could use magic were instructed to cast any fire spell they knew on the Draugr. They eventually became proficient in fighting Draugr. Which was good since the last chamber held even more Draugr; ones that were considerably stronger than the ones we had previously fought.

After they were defeated and our wounds cared for, I recovered the Jagged Crown from the strongest of the Draugr. I was the one who was to take the Crown back to General Tullius in Solitude. But… Not before I claimed the Word that called to me.

It was one for the Slow Time Shout. That meant I now had two of the three Words. The other was likely hidden in one of the few crypts in Skyrim that I had yet to explore.

Ah, but I had to get back to Solitude. I would return the Crown to General Tullius, get my new orders, and then take some time to rest. I was rather tired after fighting my way through the dungeon.

14th of Evening Star, 4E 201:

General Tullius seemed a little surprised that the Jagged Crown was actually real. He accepted it, though, with a bit of a wry smile; he seemed to feel as though he owed Legate Rikke an apology for failing to respond as quickly as he should have to her suggestion. Even so, the General made it clear that there was more for me to do. I was to take a message of great importance to Jarl Balgruuf.

According to his sources, Ulfric was planning an attack on Whiterun. The Jarl of the city hadn’t made his allegiance clear… Well, he had, but it wasn’t to either the Stormcloaks or the Imperials; instead, Jarl Balgruuf stood with Whiterun alone. This posed a bit of a problem. If Ulfric did indeed decide to attack Whiterun, the Jarl wouldn’t have enough Guards to defend his city. To make matters worse, he was refusing any and all Imperial aid. The man was stubborn and proud. In this case, it was proving to be a detriment.

Once I had the letter, I left Castle Dour and went to the Winking Skeever. I bought a meal –some stew and mead- and rented a bed. I required rest before I could take the letter to Jarl Balgruuf.

When morning arrived, I was ready to go. I took a carriage to Whiterun and immediately sprinted the rest of the way to Dragonsreach. The Jarl was sitting in his throne when I arrived, so I went up to him and handed him the letter. After a brief argument on whether or not his steward should read the letter (even though it was for the Jarl’s eyes only), the Jarl finally read it. He seemed quite… Disturbed.

Irileth and Proventus both read the letter and began debating their options with the Jarl. It soon became clear that none of them were happy with the current position of the Empire, but… Neither were they impressed with the Stormcloaks. The Jarl did not support Ulfric and his ‘cause’ and they did want the Thalmor to leave Skyrim and the rest of the Empire alone.

Soon enough, I got their answer. The Jarl was going to send a reply to General Tullius to accept the offer of aid. However, he also decided it was time to send a message to Ulfric. Jarl Balgruuf handed me has war axe and told me to give it to Ulfric; no words would be required. A true Nord would understand the meaning.

With the Jarl’s war axe in hand, I set off for Windhelm at once. This was an urgent delivery.

Ulfric and Galmar Stone-Fist were arguing when I got there; from the sound of things, they were indeed making the final preparations for an attack on Whiterun. I nodded to the Guards and walked proudly towards Ulfric. He recognized me from Helgen and knew that I had joined the Legion. The man expressed disappointment when I gave him Balgruuf’s war axe. He called me out for ‘joining the losing side.’ I told him I had joined the winning side. I would see to that. He snorted and handed the war axe back.

That was that. At this point, nothing else could be done. It was time to fight. Ulfric was almost ready. I could only hope that General Tullius could get troops to Whiterun fast enough. Otherwise… Things wouldn’t go so well. This was where the war really started to heat up; a loss here could lead to an overall defeat. Whiterun was, after all, the central city of Skyrim.

I hurried back to Whiterun and returned the war axe to Balgruuf. I was pleased to know that there were plenty of Imperial troops in Whiterun. Balgruuf was not surprised that I had returned with his axe. It was, after all, the response that he was expecting. He sent me back to Legate Cipius, whom General Tullius had sent to watch over the battle.

There wasn’t really much for me to do at that moment, so I stood nearby and watched the proceedings. The Stormcloaks were gathering outside of Whiterun and, according to the scouts, they were building fires. Fires for their catapults. It was their intention to take the city with its walls intact. Just with the rest of the buildings on fire.

It was around this time that a winded soldier came running into the palace. He attempted to get the attention of the Legate, but the man told him to take a moment to regain his breath. Meanwhile, he kept discussing battle plans with the Jarl and Irileth. I could see that what the gasping soldier had to say was urgent. The Legate simply wasn’t letting him speak. I was quite tempted to overstep my rank and interrupt the Legate so Mr. Panting could spit out what he had to say.

Thankfully, the messenger finally had the sense to speak up. He alerted the Legate that the Stormcloaks were advancing. The battle had begun!

The fight lasted for several hours. All around me, Stormcloaks and Imperials fell. The catapults the Stormcloaks had brought launched volley after volley of flaming projectiles over the walls. Crews worked constantly to extinguish the hungry flames. I fought on the front lines; it was my job, along with the others, to stop the Stormcloaks from bringing down the drawbridge. We did not fail. I did not fail. Together, we drove the Stormcloaks away.

Jarl Balgruuf gave a speech after the battle was over. He thanked me personally for my help. Since Whiterun was still smoldering, I traveled to Rorikstead where I then spent the night.

Come morning, I would have to make the journey to Solitude so that I could receive my new orders from General Tullius.

15th of Evening Star, 4E 201:


The battle for Whiterun haunted me in my sleep. I saw the city burning all night; the Imperials and Stormcloaks dying all around me, the flames from the rubble consuming their bodies… Some of the dead –specifically those whose helmets had fallen off- opened their unseeing eyes and watched me. Others reached out and attempted to grab hold of me. It was horrible.

I barely got any sleep that night. When the sun finally rose, I left without a word and went straight to Solitude. General Tullius thanked me for my part in the battle and, since he knew I would be useful, promoted me. I was to be working out in the field; my duties would not be that of a regular soldier, instead I would be going between the Stormcloak controlled holds and helping to loosen Ulfric’s grip on them. I would be the one to topple the rule of the Stormcloaks.

The first hold we would reclaim was the Pale. I needed to travel to the Imperial camp in the wilderness there to meet with Legate Rikke. She would give me my assignment. I prayed that it wasn’t going to be too bloody.

Probably the first thing that became evident to me was that the Pale was really bloody cold. I’m an Argonian. I simply wasn’t meant to be running through snow as deep as my waist. If not deeper in some places. Anyway, the camp was located in some hills between High Gate Ruins and Dawnstar. When I arrived, I met with Legate Rikke and got my orders. We needed to plant false information with the Stormcloak Commander in Dawnstar. In order to do that, we needed to get our hands on some actual Stormcloak documents. I would be in charge of both retrieving the intelligence and delivering the forged letter.

In order to get the information we needed, I had to track down a Stormcloak messenger. The best place to do that was either in the Nightgate Inn or the Candlehearth Hall in Windhelm. I didn’t want to risk attracting too much attention in Windhelm, so I figured the best place was the Nightgate Inn. My plan was that I would go to the Inn and speak to the innkeeper; I would ask him if he had seen any Stormcloak couriers lately. If he refused to answer me, I could easily convince him that the life of the courier was in danger. Once I had his or her location, I would then seek them out and kill them. I wish it wasn’t necessary, but it was. That was the only way to make sure that the courier didn’t show up and inform the Stormcloaks that they information they received hadn’t been falsified. I just had to make sure that I hid the body well. It would also be useful if I took the Stormcloak armor and wore it to deliver the letter. That would make it somewhat more believable.

That still left the issue of my race. There weren’t –as far as I knew- any Argonians in the Stormcloaks. I would need to hide my tail and wear a larger helmet to conceal my snout. A cloak might help hide any bulge left by my tail.

As I expected, the innkeeper at the Nightgate Inn was unwilling to divulge the location of the Stormcloak courier I was after. I acted according to my plan and managed to convince him that the courier’s life was in danger. According to the Innkeeper the Stormcloak courier had left not long ago for Windhelm. I could still catch up to him if I hurried. And so I did.

I took every precaution to remain out of sight of the courier. He was fairly close to Anga’s Mill at this point and I needed to take him down as silently as possible. That was best done before he reached the mill.

I positioned myself between the courier and the mill. With one silent strike of my bow, he was down. I pulled his corpse to the river, took his armor and the documents, and then tossed his body into the water. I just wish I hadn’t needed to kill him.

Legate Rikke took the documents when I arrived. She changed a few things and resealed the package. That just meant that I had to take the intelligence to the Stormcloak commander in Dawnstar; he was probably going to be in the Jarl’s house or the Guard house. I set off for Dawnstar after I changed into the stolen Stormcloak gear. Admittedly, I was worried that the Stormcloak Commander would see through my disguise. It wasn’t really hard to tell that I am an Argonian.

Luck was on my side. The Stormcloak Commander was in the Jarl’s House –where there were fewer Guards to notice a possible tail- and he did not realize that I had an odd shape for a Nord. Even better, he accepted the package without hesitation… And he even gave me some coin for a drink! That was just a bonus. I wouldn’t spend it, but gold was gold.

Away from Dawnstar, I switched back into my normal gear and returned to Legate Rikke. With my job finished, the Stormcloak presence in the Pale had been weakened. That meant that we could drive them out. Fort Dunstad, the main Stormcloak base in the Pale, had been denied its reinforcements. If the troops could be chased out, then the rest of the Pale could be taken.

That was my next assignment: join the Imperial soldiers outside of Fort Dunstad and drive the Stormcloaks out. I met the soldiers just outside of the fort and, together, we charged in.

It was another one of those long fights. The sun had set when it began, and it was rising again when the battle finally ended. At that point, we had killed most of the Stormcloaks. The few that remained alive fled to alert their comrades that the Stormcloaks had lost their hold over the Pale.

I was, like usual, required to go back to Solitude to report our success to General Tullius. I would have to rest before heading out again.

16th of Evening Star, 4E 201:


In a sense, I guess you could say that I was used to killing. I was only really capable of handling bandits; they were criminals and, for whatever reason, it bothered me less to kill them. But soldiers? Men and women who had families? Sons and daughters? What would happen to them once their parents were killed? I didn’t like it. Fighting in a war just wasn’t… Right. I just didn’t have a choice. After all, I did what I did for the future of Skyrim.

Anyway, when I arrived in Solitude, I was given another promotion. General Tullius was pleased that we had managed to regain the Pale. My new orders had me going to the Rift where I would be working with Legate Rikke again. Of course, that would be after I slept. At this point, I think Corpulus Vinius was beginning to value the business I gave him. Not that the Winking Skeever was ever all that empty.

When I awoke, I immediately started on my journey to the Rift Imperial camp. It took several hours for me to get there, and when I arrived, I felt as though I hadn’t rested at all. Things were going to get a whole lot worse before the Rift was won.

It didn’t help that my job was blackmailing the Riften steward. She apparently had some arrangements with the Thieves Guild that would be quite embarrassing if made public. I had to get evidence of those arrangements and use it to ‘convince’ the steward to assist the Imperials. Joy. A stealth mission when I’m tired. Those always go well.

I had to be very careful. I timed the robbery so that it occurred at night; there would be fewer Guards that way, and nobody else would be awake. That would make it considerably easier for me to search the Jarl’s palace for evidence. The best place to look, though, would most certainly be the steward’s quarters.

Luck was on my side again. Or maybe it was just skill. Who knows? Either way, I managed to sneak my way to the steward’s quarters without being detected. Nobody heard me sifting through her cupboards and wardrobes, either. I eventually found a letter that quite plainly linked her to the Thieves Guild. That meant the first portion of my job was done and that I could leave the palace to rest for the remainder of the night. This is exactly what I did.

I waited until around 10am when I was certain that the steward would be awake and ready to answer any questions. She balked when I revealed the letter. The woman pulled me back to her quarters where we proceeded to have a nice little chat. In exchange for the maintenance of her secret, Anuriel told me that the Stormcloaks had a wagon loaded with coin and weapons heading to Windhelm. It was just the information I needed.

Legate Rikke agreed with my assessment. She set me out to track down the wagon and help a nearby patrol capture it; the Stormcloaks could not be allowed to keep it. To my surprise, the patrol was being led by Hadvar. He asked me how I was doing. Not too well, really. He felt the same way I did about the soldiers we killed. They haunted his dreams as often as they did mine.

Anyway, after we had our little conversation, Hadvar revealed the plan: I was to take down the soldier guarding the wagon and then we would all rush the remaining men surrounding it. It seemed simple enough and, surprisingly, everything did go exactly as planned. Although I did manage to kill more of the Stormcloaks than any other man in Hadvar’s patrol.

With the wagon under our control, there was only one thing left to do… We had to capture the fort to force the remaining Stormcloaks out of the Rift. The fort was Fort Greenwall. I was sent there after reporting back to Legate Rikke. The battle went well, but I was worried; at one point, a Dragon flew overhead and I –for a minute or two- thought he was going to attack. He didn’t. Thank the Nine.

I was getting used to the rhythm of things by now. After each battle, I was sent to report back to General Tullius. And then I would have a nap in Solitude before heading out to my next assignment.

Just more of the same: kill, travel, sleep, travel, kill…

17th of Evening Star, 4E 201:



Our next target was Winterhold. It was the last hold we needed to take before we marched on Windhelm. And then… The war would be over and I could continue my pursuit of Alduin. I was surprised that he had yet to return after our battle; perhaps he was laying low. Or maybe he was planning a counterattack. I couldn’t say.

At this point, it really didn’t matter. I had sworn I would fight until the civil war ends. That meant that I could not pursue Alduin. I didn’t know where he had gone, so… The civil war was the best route. If only to convince Jarl Balgruuf to allow me to trap a Dragon in his palace.

Anyway, when I reported to Legate Rikke, she told me that I was to go and meet the men outside of Fort Kastav. The Stormcloaks had some Legionnaires held prisoner there. It was our mission to free them. And clear the fort of Stormcloaks.

The team was being led by Hadvar. He complained profusely about the cold (what did he expect? It’s Winterhold), but eventually told me that there was a hatch leading into the lower sections of the fort. I –why is it always me? - had to sneak through that hatch and free the Imperial Soldiers that the Stormcloaks had imprisoned. Of course, I would kill any Stormcloaks who stood in my way.

Once the soldiers were freed, we began our assault of the remaining Stormcloaks. About half of the freed Imperials were killed. Not one Stormcloak escaped. We sustained heavy losses, but we still emerged victorious. Hadvar sent me back to Solitude to report our success.

With the capture of Winterhold, the only Stormcloak hold remaining was Eastmarch. This meant that it was time to take the battle directly to Ulfric’s door. Well, later, anyway. First I had to see what new orders General Tullius had for me.

18th of Evening Star, 4E 201:


I was quite shocked when General Tullius promoted me to the rank of Legate. That meant that I was among his most trusted soldiers. The ones in Skyrim, anyway. I was rather proud of myself once I got over the initial surprise. It didn’t equal the cost of the trials of war, but it was something.

With the majority of Stormcloak holds under Imperial control, it was time for the Legion to make its final move upon Ulfric Stormcloak and Windhelm. Legate Rikke informed me that our first step was to capture the last enemy fort, Fort Amol, in order to weaken the last of the Stormcloak defenses; she had no doubt that, since they were down to their last bit of land, the Stormcloaks would fight like cornered prey.

The second step was to lay siege to Windhelm. We had plenty of catapults and other siege weapons hiding in the hills near the city. They were being guarded by many fine Imperial soldiers. When the actual battle began, I had no doubt that we would be able to take the city. I only questioned the number of casualties that would be suffered. On both sides.

Anyway, I met with the Imperials near Fort Amol as soon as I could. Together, we fought against the Stormcloaks. They truly did fight like prey that was caught without an escape route; the remaining Stormcloaks fought dirty. Some even lacked honor. Those were the Nords that would never make it to Sovngarde.

We still drove the Stormcloaks out of the fort, but we suffered more injuries and deaths than usual. At least half of my fellow Legionnaires were either dead or wounded. I regret being unable to help them, but I had no choice but to rush back to our camp in the hills near Mzulft. I had to report back to Legate Rikke… And then it would be time to take Windhelm.

There was no time to rest. Ah, blasts, there wasn’t enough time to even clean the filth of battle off of my weapons and armor. We marched for Windhelm not long after I arrived at camp. At most, I only had enough time to guzzle down some water; my throat was dry and tight from the approaching battle. The water did nothing.

My fellow soldiers and I gathered at the gates to Windhelm. The catapults were already flinging burning ammo at the city; piles of rubble burned within and sent massive plumes of smoke up into the air. A brisk wind blew it into our faces and we all caught scent of the acrid stench of the ruins of war. I could only try to ignore the scent as General Tullius began to give his speech. It wasn’t really anything too spectacular –the man didn’t seem all that good at giving speeches- but it did its job effectively: it got everybody riled up for the last battle of the war. With a yell, we charged in.

I don’t know how long the battle itself lasted. I do know, however, that it was fought with blade, tooth, and claw. The Stormcloaks were feistier than ever and fought with all their cunning, strength, and skill in order to break our hold upon Windhelm. I led the assault with General Tullius and Legate Rikke and it was my arms that broke through the barriers and sent severed heads flying into the blizzard that had struck the city.

When it came to the execution of Ulfric, though, I simply couldn’t do it. It wasn’t right. He wanted the Dragonborn –me- to be the one to kill him; the man thought it would make for a better song. I’ll admit there’s a sort of irony to the Dragonborn shouting Ulfric into his grave, but… That seemed like it was giving Ulfric what he wanted. Which isn’t what I wanted to do.

In the end, I allowed General Tullius to execute Ulfric. He did it in one quick stroke of his blade. A blade which he then gave to me as a symbol of his gratitude.

The death of Ulfric and Galmar meant that the civil war had finally come to a close. There was no doubt that there would still be renegade Stormcloaks wandering through the wilds but, for now, the main fight was done. I barely paused to listen to the General giving his end-of-war speech to the soldiers before I wandered through the blood stained streets of Windhelm towards the town gate; I really didn’t want to linger in that place.

My feet automatically carried me to Whiterun where I rented a room in the Bannered Mare. I needed time to rest and reflect upon the events of the war. Once I had recovered, I was certain that I would approach the Jarl of Whiterun to see if I could trap a Dragon in his palace.

I still didn’t think that request would be well received.

The Elf smiled grimly to herself as she sorted through the contents of an old, dusty chest. She had raided the tomb of another Dunmer family for supplies. The dim light of the candles flickered over the stone surfaces of the walls and the dried bodies of the tomb’s previous inhabitants; the Vampire had dispatched them in order to claim the crypt for herself. She needed somewhere to work and this was the best location she could find. After all, a Vampire wouldn’t exactly be welcomed in normal society. Quite the opposite.

It had only been a week since the fledgling had left the cave in which she was born, but she was already working towards revenge. She knew, deep in the darkest reaches of her cold heart, that the ones who turned her must pay for what they had done… Especially the man that had violated her. She was by no means a virgin, but to be defiled like that was a great insult. The only way that man would get away with his crimes was if he simply ceased to exist.

There was one rather large obstacle to overcome if she wanted to find him though: she did not know where the Vampires had gone. She would have to find them. For that, she had a plan. She would capture and interrogate Vampires until she discovered which of the clans they were from. Once she had that, she could narrow down her hunt until she got what she was after… The two Vampires –especially the man- dead.

Her methods would be crude, but effective. Vampires generally have a weakness to fire and silver, so her primary tools would consist of those two things. For fire, she would use spells and a hot iron rod. For the silver, she had a variety of silver blades. She could also combine the two into one by heating a silver blade. For those Vampires with magical resistances, she had a variety of other spells and weapons. Including her own fists.

But, perhaps the most important item she would have was the poison. Ordinarily poisons wouldn’t affect Vampires. Being undead, poisons would not normally be able to penetrate the magic keeping them in the realm between life and death. The young Vampire theorized that, by creating a poison containing silver, it would bypass the magic and allow the poison to do its deadly work.

The one major issue with that theory was… How would you get silver into a poison? It’s a solid metal, not something that is generally put into a poison. She knew she had her work cut out for her. The simplest way of turning the silver into a liquid would be to melt it, but that simply would not work for creating a poison; the heat required to melt the metal would boil off any water. That only left magic. She needed a spell that could turn solid silver into a liquid metal and keep it that way without making it hot. Unfortunately, no such spells existed. She would have to create one.

To facilitate her thoughts, the young Elven Vampire brought out a piece of silver she had found. Her eyes focused on the small hunk of unrefined metal; her mind pondered the pattern of magicka that would change the state of the metal. She knew of a spell that could turn a relatively worthless metal like iron into a valuable one like gold. There was a good chance that she could use that one as a base and tweak it to change the state rather than the composition.

Yes! That was it. The Vampire lifted her right hand and held it over the metal. She gathered her magical energy, focused on her goal, and cast the modified spell. At first, nothing happened. The Vampire was quite disappointed… Until the silver began to melt in front of her eyes. Her pale face was cracked with a wide grin, her fangs glistening in the light of the candles. With a gloved hand, she reached out and touched the liquid silver and ran it between her fingers. It was still cool.

She was even more pleased with her handiwork when the metal didn’t return to a solid state, even after letting it sit for several minutes. This was exactly what she needed: liquid silver that she could mix into a powerful poison. As long as it didn’t separate, it would work perfectly. All she needed was the actual poison. Something that would work slowly, but ultimately be fatal. There would be no antidote. With a slight, happy flourish, the young Vampire gathered her small store of ingredients and went to work.

The bubbling of her alchemy lab kept her focused for quite some time. She combined several native ingredients and others from mainland Tamriel to create a potent poison. It would take 30 minutes to an hour to do its work; enough time to give its intended victim plenty of time to mull over their actions… And their fate. The poison would work by shutting down the victims nerves. They would feel extreme pain as it began to do its work. Slowly, they would lose sensation and the ability to move. In the end, once the poison took hold in the brain, it would destroy their autonomic nervous system. They would cease to breathe and their heart would stop beating. The silver would allow the poison to work against Vampires.

Once she had the poison complete, she stored it in a small, dark bottle and stashed it in a small chest. For added effect, she took another bottle and labeled it as an antidote; it was filled with nothing more than ordinary water. There was no antidote and there never would be. She could only imagine the horror of the poison’s intended victims when she revealed that the supposed antidote was just water. The thought brought out a short bark of laughter.

Her tools had been assembled. Now… She needed her victims. After all, what use was a torture chamber without somebody to torture? Her first job was to find out which of the clans those Vampires had been from. If any. Things would be much more difficult if they were feral; that would make it difficult to find them, if not nearly impossible. They could be anywhere. If they were from one of the clans, they would most likely be hiding in the clan’s base. Easy hunting.

Judging from the style of the attack, it seemed as though the Berne clan was the most likely culprit. They were best known for their silent stalking of their prey; they struck from the shadows, like any proper hunter of the night. She knew that would be the best place to start.


For now, things would have to wait. It was still daylight. There was absolutely no way she could walk under the eternal fire of the sun. The only thing she could do now was rest and bide her time… She crawled into a dark corner of the crypt and shut her eyes.

They snapped open again the moment the sun set. She stood from the corner and stretched; sleeping on a cold stone floor wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but it was all she could do. Luxuries like a bed weren’t required for the task she had set out for herself. At that moment, though, it was time for her hunt to begin. She made her way to the entrance of the crypt and stepped outside into the darkness. At once, the hunter became alert. Her eyes scanned the darkness, watching for any sign of movement. Her ears caught every little sound and filtered out anything that sounded like footsteps. Her nose sniffed the air for the slightest trace of Vampire scent.

She heard the crunch of footsteps on the dirt road behind her. The young Vampire could not risk being recognized so, in case the footsteps were those of a mortal, she continued walking forward. A voice came from the same direction as the footsteps. The sounds sped up as whoever was behind her attempted to close the distance.

“Hey, traveler, where are you going at this time of night?”

She turned to face a man; a farmer, by the look of him. Ragged clothing, skin covered in dirt and other filth… A man who operated a small farm and who, by his appearance and the stench he was giving off, could not afford a slave. The man froze when he saw the face of the woman he had stopped. His expression quickly became one of fear as he stumbled backwards. He tried to run, but the Vampire –her mind focused on the hunt- raised her hand and fired off two spikes of ice into the man’s knees. He screamed and fell to the ground. His gasps became sobs as he clawed at the ground, trying to get away. She took her chance and pounced. The poor farmer was dead soon enough.

The young Vampire woman returned her gaze to the path and its surroundings. The farmer man had been in the way. Still, his blood improved her concentration, even if he was a little bland. She focused all of her senses upon her quarry once again.

After what felt like a very short amount of time, the sky began to grow lighter. The young Vampire cursed to herself as she sprinted back towards the crypt which she had claimed as her own; the sun had just touched her back seconds before she ducked inside and its rays had burned her. She collapsed against the cold wall of the crypt, her chest heaving from the exertion of the sprint. The hunt had been unsuccessful. She had not seen a single other Vampire. It irritated her enough that, as soon as she regained her breath, she began pacing angrily up and down the tomb’s narrow corridors. She spoke softly to herself, refining her plans and cursing her misfortune.

The Vampire remained like that for the entire day, too restless to sleep the hours away. When the night came, she rushed back outside. However, instead of walking on the path, she kept to the shadows. She was silent as she slunk through the darkness; not a single being knew she was there. Not any person that wandered by, and certainly not the Cliff Racer that hovered above. Blasts. She hated those things. All the screeching and squawking…

It was as she was creeping through a patch of narrow bushes when she finally spotted what she was looking for. An Argonian slave –one that had recently escaped by the look of him- was wandering down the road. His scaled head swiveled from side to side as he tried to look for any signs of movement; he could see none, but the paranoia was still there.

But the young Dunmer Vampire could see what he could not. Several meters down the road, hidden in the shadow of a pillar of rock, a male Imperial Vampire crouched and waited. His eyes were fixed upon the Argonian. She could not help but think he was a little desperate to hunt a Beast… A slave, no less. Their filthy scales felt rough against the lips and mouth. Not to mention that their blood tasted terrible; cold and… How could she describe it? It was just reptilian. Not appetizing.

She shook her head to clear her mind. The Argonian had reached the location of the Imperial Vampire. He shot out of his hiding place with surprising speed… Surprising only to the Argonian. He was caught in the grasp of the Vampire. The Vampire immediately tossed the Argonian to the ground and ripped his throat out. She wrinkled her nose; there was no subtly with this one, was there? Still, he was a Vampire. He was exactly what she was looking for. She grabbed a nearby stone and chucked it at the Imperial. It connected with his head and he crumpled. She laughed and ran forward to collect his body. With the Imperial in her arms, she pulled him back to the crypt. She shackled him once she arrived. It was time to start the fires.

He groaned as he regained consciousness. The man attempted to lift his hand to touch his head, but he froze when he realized he was chained to the stone wall of the crypt. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the woman that had captured him standing almost alluringly nearby.

“What do you want with me, little one?”

“You are in no position to speak to me like that,” she said as she stepped closer to her prisoner. She ran one hand along his chest and lowered her voice, “I want information. If you cooperate, you’ll escape with only minor wounds. If you don’t cooperate, I think you’ll find things considerably more… Painful.”

“Hah! You just pull me in here, chain me to a wall, and expect me to talk? Look, girl, it ain’t going to happen. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

She smiled, the light from the candles giving the angled features of her face dark highlights. The effect made the Imperial frown. She reached over and grasped the cool end of a metal rod, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The Imperial’s expression switched from one of mild disdain to fear as he realized that the opposite end of the metal rod was red hot. He squirmed in the restraints as the woman in front of him lifted the rod. She brought it down hard and held it to his flesh; the heat burned into him and the reek of burning skin and hair filled the air. Pressure was released only when the Imperial began to scream (which didn’t take long).

”Are you willing to speak yet? Are you from one of the clans? Tell me, or you get the rod again!”

“I’ll take the rod,” the Imperial gasped, his face stuck in a grimace. With a smile, the Dunmer Vampire obliged. This time she wielded the rod like a blade; she lashed it across his skin, causing massive welts to appear across him. Her attack was relentless. She didn’t stop until both she and the Imperial were panting.

“Are you going to speak yet… Little one?”

He could only groan. Blood leaked out of all wounds that hadn’t been burnt shut. His body was limp, but his deadened eyes remained fixed upon the woman that held him prisoner. The woman locked eyes with him and spoke softly, “What’s the matter? Cliff Racer got your tongue? Hm…”

It didn’t seem like the Imperial was capable of speech; the damage done was too great and the pain was preventing him from forming any coherent thoughts. The Dunmer Vampire knew she would have to heal him. She lifted a hand and cast a healing spell. His wounds sealed and he lifted his head to match gazes with his interrogator.

“You’re a cruel one, aren’t you? I suppose we all are, to an extent, but you… You’re different. Such coldness, aggression… A desire for revenge, yes? You won’t get it, you know. I’m not going to tell you anything. You won’t be able to find those you’re after,” a growl from the woman made him pause. He smirked, “Aw, does my defiance make the little girl upset? Does she want mommy and daddy to make things right for her?”

“You… Will… Be… Silent!”

Her blood boiled with a fury so intense that she was almost surprised her prisoner didn’t burst into flames. He dared to mock her! Such insolence deserved to be punished. The urge to kill was strong, but she had to resist… She didn’t want to catch another prisoner. No. She would have her fun with this one. If he didn’t give up after one more round of physical abuse, she would use the poison. She was curious how effective it would be anyway; this was the perfect opportunity for her to discover how well her unique creation worked. But first…

With a sour glance at the Imperial, the Dunmer placed the metal rod back into the fire and drew one highly sharpened silver blade from the weapon rack she had nearby. She channeled her fury into that blade; it danced across the skin of the male Vampire. He cried out and the Dunmer’s fangs were exposed in a loud cackle that made her prisoner cringe. Hit after hit landed upon him until, after what felt like hours, the fury that powered the young Vampire faded.

She froze. The man was covered on lacerations and was bleeding heavily. He panted, his eyes half shut but still looking up at his captor. It took a moment for her to act. When she did, she healed his wounds once more and leaned in close; her hand rested upon his shoulder as she whispered into his ear.

“Are you ready to speak yet? Or shall I just kill you?”

He seemed exhausted. It was quite clear to the Vampire woman that the man didn’t have much strength left in him; at this point, it wouldn’t take much more to break him. Half of her hoped that he would resist this one last time so that she could use the poison. The other half just wanted the information she so desperately sought. Unfortunately, only one side was going to be satisfied at that moment.

“Do your worst.”

A small, ghostly smile crossed her lips as she opened the chest that held the bottles. She applied the poison to her silver blade and, just for the hell of it, began to tell her victim about it, “You see this poison? Ordinarily, poison would not affect Vampires like us. Poison does nothing to dead flesh, and it cannot pierce the magic keeping us undead. But… We do have a weakness to silver. It can penetrate that magic and damage our bodies –sometimes beyond repair. What do you think will happen, little boy, when poison and silver are combined and used against a Vampire? If my theory is correct, the poison should work. I am going to use this on you. I have the antidote right here beside me. I will only administer it if you tell me what I want to know. You will have anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour to ponder your fate.”

The smile was still on her face as she ran the poisoned blade against the Imperial’s arm. She dripped more poison into the wound for added effect. The look on the man’s face was one of horrified comprehension; he had thought about her theory and he was quite unhappy about the prospect of death. Soon, however, the poison began to take effect. The Imperial began to writhe as the muscles in his arm began to spasm. He finally snapped.

“All right!” He choked, “I’ll tell you what you want to know! Gods, you’re awful… A genius, but awful… Yes, I’m from one of the clans. The Berne clan, specifically.”

“A clan of stealth. Vampires that attack from the shadows, stalking prey throughout the night. Yes,” she paused, closing the distance between herself and her undead prisoner, “You are exactly what I was looking for. Tell me, Berne Vampire, does the clan have a grizzled human female with a distinctive scar over one eye?”

“Yes… Wait, did she attack you? She’s the one who turned you, isn’t she?”

A shadow passed over her face and she pulled away from her captive. She stalked away and turned to face the opposite wall.

“It was not her directly. She traveled with a companion: male and Dunmer. They attacked me while I was traveling along the coast. I resisted, and so the male saw fit to punish me. He violated me before he fed. It was his bite that ultimately changed me.”

“Her name is Sulani Vandavici. She’s an Imperial like me. Old, but she hasn’t been a Vampire for more than ten years. She usually frequents the base, the old Dwarven ruins of Galom Daeus. Along with the rest of us. She does travel, though. You may have to wait.”

The woman turned sharply to face her prisoner. She cocked her head to the left and appeared to stare right through the man, “Well, you’ve served your purpose.”

“Does that mean that I can get the antidote? The pain is up to my shoulder now,” he almost seemed hopeful as he asked the Vampire woman to rid his body of the poison. Another mad laugh echoed through the crypt.

“Oh, I neglected to mention something rather important… The poison has no antidote. What’s in the antidote bottle is nothing more than water. You’re going to die here. You’re going to die!”

He pulled hard against the chains in a futile attempt to reach his captor. His fangs were exposed in a snarl as he hissed his fury, “You [&@%!]! You lying [&@%!]!”

She merely ignored him and began cleaning the torture area. The man continued to protest; it was useless, though. He had been told that the poison would take between thirty minutes and an hour to do its work. His time was running out. All the Dunmer woman had to do was waiting for him to fall silent. When his ragged breathing finally stopped, he would be dead.

It took a while for the Dunmeri woman to realize that it was silent in the tomb –aside from her working, anyway. She cast a glance at her prisoner and found that the man was hanging limply in the chains and shackles. He was dead. The poison was a success. To add to that, there was still plenty of it left over. She had more for when she needed it. With a smirk, she dropped the man’s corpse outside of the crypt and then went back inside.

Sulani Vandavici. So she was the Vampire the young Dunmer woman needed to locate. It seems that she needed to make a journey north to Galom Daeus. But first… She needed a plan.

The Berne were renowned for their stealth and discretion. Sneaking into their base and kidnapping one of their members would not be a simple task. She did not know what sort of spells they knew –if any- and so she would have to take precautions. A ring or other piece of jewelry with a strong chameleon enchantment. No, two. One for herself and one for her victim. It would be best if nobody saw them enter or leave.

She only had one ring, though. Another would have to be stolen and enchanted. After that, she would make the journey to Galom Daeus. That would likely take several days and nights; she would only be able to travel under the cover of darkness. Daytime would have to be spent in hiding. She would have to be careful about where she traveled in order to avoid being caught out when the sun rose.

That would have to wait until the next night. This night was almost over. They day would be necessary to secure the crypt. It would have to be sealed; nobody could be allowed to enter. A powerful locking spell should hold it shut against most travelers. Those who were overly curious and managed to break past the lock would encounter various Daedra. They should also serve as a deterrent.

She stored all of her supplies in a chest and locked it. All her weapons and the unique silver poison were locked in another chest. Nothing was left outside. The Vampire began chanting, the low tones of her voice sliding off the walls of the crypt; Daedra began appearing around the tomb. They knew why they had been summoned and took their positions, each Daedra guarding key points in the crypt. She summoned undead and had them take spaces between the Daedra.

The tomb was secure. As the sun set, the Vampire woman stepped outside the crypt and cast the locking spells on the door. She looked around; there was nothing else around. It was safe to move. Her first stop was in the closest town. She needed to snatch a ring and a soul gem for enchanting. The woman took off at a fast run. If she hurried, she could get there by midnight. There would be plenty of time to do her work and escape back into the darkness.

Later, the Vampire crouched in the shadows on the stairs of a building. It was a general merchant. At this time of night, the owner should be asleep. And he was. Snores sounded from the open window above her head. She crawled down the steps and to the door. Certain shops had guards inside; as a precaution, she slipped her chameleon ring onto one of her fingers. The Vampire-turned-thief pulled a lock pick out of her pack and quickly broke into the shop.

The shop was only lit by a few candles, their dim flames sputtering as they slowly died. Footsteps could be heard above and a guard was positioned in the corner. He had been looking in the opposite direction and had, fortunately, not seen the door open. The Vampire moved forward and began to sort through the items lying on shelves. She was very careful not to make any loud noises; it was crucial that she did not disturb the guards.

There was a ring in one of the small chests. It was unenchanted. A little rough, but it would do. This was no time to be picky. What she needed was now a soul gem: grand, and filled. That would make the strongest possible enchantment and thus grant the greatest chance for success.

An enchanted would have the soul gem required. The Vampire knew of one nearby. She slipped back out of the shop and made her way down the street, stepping as quietly as possible to avoid making any noise and stirring up any dust. The shop was just around the corner. A guard walked by just as the Vampire was about to open the door; she froze and only went back to her scheme when she was certain he had passed by.

The door opened with a slight creak. Her eyes searched the darkness of the enchanter’s shop for any signs of movement. There was none. She strained her hearing, but she couldn’t hear any footsteps or snores. It was safe to continue. She ducked behind a counter and dropped to the floor. Dust tickled her nose and she nearly sneezed. Clearly this enchanter wasn’t one for cleanliness.

She sifted through the items on display. There wasn’t any filled grand soul gems. Hissing at a barely audible volume, she shifted positions and continued her search. There was nothing in the lower section of the shop. Her only option was to dig through the upper section.

The stairs in the shop groaned slightly as the young Vampire crept up them. She paused at the top to listen again; it sounded as though there was a woman sleeping in the shop’s single upper room. She was quiet. The room itself was sealed with a door. The Vampire wiggled the handle and found it was locked. She scanned it for traps and discovered that there was a magical trap on the door that would go off as it was opened. That brought a smile to her lips.

It seemed as though this enchanter expected to get robbed and had taken precautions against it. A simple magical trap would not stop this Vampire. She disarmed it and picked the lock. Inside was a single bed and row upon row of shelving covered in various soul gems and other magical items. An old woman was sleeping in the bed. Hunger burned within the Vampire as she approached. She ran her tongue along her fangs and bared them in a menacing snarl that nobody would see. The urge to feed overpowered her and she leapt forward, closing the gap between the bed and herself. The Vampire’s fangs pierced the neck of the enchanter and the old woman awoke with a start. Her attempts to escape were quelled as the Vampire locked her vice-like grip onto the old woman. She couldn’t even scream for help as the Vampire had stuffed one gloved hand into her mouth. It was over soon enough. The old woman never saw the face of her killer. Or any other part of her.

Licking her lips, the Vampire woman pulled herself away from the corpse of her victim. The elderly enchanter had tasted her age. Now that she was deceased, the Vampire was free to take what she wanted. She searched the shelves and picked out one filled grand soul gem. That was all she needed.

With the ring and the soul gem securely sealed in her pockets, the Vampire left the shop and took off into the night.

Upon her arrival back at the crypt, the Vampire woman went to work. She was still panting from the run as she placed her supplies on top of a stone casket that she was using as a table. All she needed to do was put a strong chameleon enchantment on the ring. In the absence of proper mage instruments, she would have to make do with what she had. She focused her mind and laid the enchantment upon the ring.

Her journey to Galom Daeus would begin the next night. For the time being, she simply curled up in a corner and went to sleep. A restless, disturbed sleep; her subconscious mind was fogged by the shadows of the hunt she was about to begin. It was time to get her revenge.

The Vampire’s eyes opened only minutes after the sun had set. Images of her plan and its possible outcomes –burned in her memory from her dreams- spurred her into action. She gathered the freshly enchanted ring and all the other supplies she would need and ensured that her Daedra were still guarding the tomb. A few had decided that they had better things to do (one Scamp was trying to gamble with another) and had to be resummoned.

As she stepped out into the darkness, the Vampire sealed the tomb again and disappeared into the night. She would wear her original ring to avoid detection; the last thing she wanted was to be delayed by the swarms of Cliff Racers that plagued the Ashlands. It would also be to her advantage to locate another tomb she could hide in at least two hours before the sun rose again (or more, depending on the conditions. An ash storm could easily slow her progress) that way she minimized the risk of getting caught outside during the day.

Once she arrived at Galom Daeus, the plan was simple: locate this Sulani Vandavici, capture her, flee the ruin without being seen, and then get back to the crypt. There was a great deal of things that could go wrong. The Vampire woman hadn’t actually considered them, but she was fairly confident that she could do this task without failing. She could not bear the thought of failure; it simply wasn’t an option. Everything had to work.

The journey was an exhausting one. She had been traveling for days, taking the utmost care not to get caught outside during the day. The Dunmer vampire had been unable to rest during the day; the prospect of finally exacting revenge was making her incredibly agitated. She could only pace the tombs, caves, and mines that she hid in, slaughtering their previous occupants as she encountered them. Most mortals she killed tasted bitter from the ash. Not exactly gourmet, but… They had to do. She could not afford to be picky. Her mind needed to be as clear as possible for the task ahead of her.

Now she stood, perched on a rocky outcropping overlooking Galom Daeus. She had already seen several Vampires leave, but whether they were hunting or on a mission of some kind was unknown. All she knew was that the fewer Vampires remained in the ruin, the greater her chance for success would be. Unless one of the Vampires that left was her quarry. Then that would bring nothing but failure.

Her heart quickened immensely as she slid down from her position and raced towards the door. She paused at the entrance and, with a detect undead spell, ensured that no Vampires were on the other side and about to exit. There was nobody there. The Dunmer Vampire pulled open the large, rusted metal door as quietly as possible and entered the ruin. She closed the door behind her.

It was dark, as befitting a ruin that served as a house for Vampires. Voices clawed their way through the shadows and the invading Vampire cocked her head to listen.

“I wish Sulani would shut up about that Dunmer mercenary she ‘helped’ Nyralor take down. It’s getting annoying. She can say it was a good kill as much as she wants. The fact remains that she didn’t do a damn thing.”

“What, and you actually believe Nyralor’s version of the tale? That he ripped the girl’s still beating-heart out of her chest when he was finished? The boy is lazy. You know that. He won’t even suck the blood from his victims, instead leaving their heart to do the work for him. He says he likes the feeling, but… I very much doubt that.”

That doesn’t change how I feel about Sulani and you know it. If the damn woman doesn’t shut up, I’ll kill her myself.”

“Bah. Whatever. All this talking has made me thirsty. Perhaps we should go and pay the cattle a visit?”

The invading Vampire’s nostrils flared with each rapid breath. She was still here! It was just a matter of finding her and capturing her. She continued into the ruin. More voices reached her ears; these ones seemed curious about something.

“Where did he go? You can’t just disappear like that. It makes the Elder suspicious.”

“I don’t know,” it was the voice of Sulani. The invading Vampire recognized that voice, “He has been paranoid since our last hunt. He said he has had visions of a figure rising from the darkness with eyes full of fury, “she snorted, “If you ask me, he’s just making it up to cover his true thoughts.”

“And what would those be?”

“Betrayal? I don’t know. He never told me much beyond his ‘dreams.’”

“Well, it’s too late now. He’s gone and I doubt he’ll come back.”

“True… I have some enchanting work to do. It’s time I get to work.”

She heard the two Vampires walk away. Looking out from her position behind several barrels, the invading Vampire saw the grizzled grey head of Sulani disappear down a side passage. Her heart sped up as she followed the old Imperial. This was her chance and she was not going to lose it. She was, however, curious about what man Sulani and the other Vampire were talking about; they had never said a name or mentioned anything that could give her any idea of who he was. It didn’t matter. The target was walking several feet ahead of her in the corridor.

Sulani turned into another room and her stalker followed closely. There was nobody else in the room, but it was filled with desks, books, Dwemer relics, and other supplies. Sulani took her place at one of the desks. The young Vampire prepared herself; she forced her heart to slow down to steady her limbs. Her mind focused on her target like a haw would focus on its prey.

She shot out of the shadows, her chameleon spell hiding her from view, and rammed her fist into the back of Sulani’s head. The old Imperial Vampire was knocked unconscious; she slumped forward at the desk, groaning slightly. With a full-fanged grin on her face, the Dunmer Vampire slipped the second chameleon ring onto Sulani and tied her up. She slung the Imperial onto her shoulder and took off. It was time to make her way back to the crypt.

The young Dunmer Vampire made certain that the Imperial Vampire was still unconscious every time she stopped for the day. She slept when she could (as running with another person on her shoulder was exhausting) and occasionally snuck out to feed. It took her longer to get back to the crypt than it did for her to reach Galom Daeus, but when she did finally arrive, she instantly set up her tools. The Imperial was stripped of all her possessions and chained to the wall, the small fire was started, and all the blades were sharpened. Now she just had to wait for the older Vampire to awaken. She sat one a stone table across from her new prisoner and waited, her eyes half shut and her arms crossed over her chest.

Sulani’s eyes fluttered open. She seemed dimly aware of the fact that she had been kidnapped. Her eyes flicked back and forth before finally settling on her captor. The shock on her face was clear; her eyes widened and her mouth hung slightly ajar. She growled.

“You! I thought you had died. Your body was broken, your blood dripping from the holes Nyralor left in your neck. There was no way you could have survived that!”

The young Dunmer’s upper lip curled into a snarl, “Clearly you underestimated me. I regained consciousness in the middle of the day. My body may have been frail, but my will was not. I pulled myself into a cave where I remained until the Vampirism took hold. Now… I’m back and stronger than ever before.”

“Ah, so Nyralor turned you,” There was a dark glimmer deep in her eyes. Amusement? Pride? Whatever it was, it irritated Dunmer Vampire. Sulani continued to talk, “Not intentionally, I’m certain, but… Even so. You should have joined the clan.”

A flash of hot fury made the younger Vampire leap off the table. Her face was a few inches from the face of the other Vampire as she hissed out a response, “I would never join the ones that ruined my life and took everything I had from me!”

Sulani met her ferocious gaze with an equally cold, hard stare, “Revenge, then. Yes. I should have realised that. So… You’re after Nyralor and me.”

The Dunmer Vampire withdrew from her position in front of Sulani and turned to face the wall. She held her hands behind her back and kept her head held high.

“Yes. I realized –back in that cave- that both you and Nyralor should be made to suffer. An equal punishment for the fate that has befallen me. Now… I can be persuaded to go easier on you if you tell me where your little friend has gone.”

“I can’t do that…”

A terrible, haunted smile graced the lips of the young Dunmeri Vampire, “Very well, then. You leave me no choice.”

She turned to her selection of torture implements and selected a highly sharpened silver blade; its tip was big and narrow. She twirled it between her fingers a few times before lashing out. The Imperial screamed as the blade sliced through her flesh. The Dunmer only stopped when she had written several insults across both of the Imperial’s arms. She put the blade down and lifted her hands. Hungry flames shot out of them and raked across the Imperial’s bleeding arms.

The woman had tensed up; her legs had been pulled against her chest and tears dripped from her eyes. She lifted her sodden gaze up to meet the eyes of her captor. It was met with no mercy.

Lightning arced across the flesh of the Imperial, lashing over the burns left by the fire. The bolts left behind more burns. With a small smile on her face, the Dunmer Vampire healed the wounds and went back to work. She had a blade in each hand when the Imperial tried to get her attention.

“If you will permit me to speak… The reason why I cannot tell you where Nyralor has gone is because I don’t know where he is. He just disappeared. Ran off after he said… After he said that he had a vision of a figure rising from the darkness. Interesting. If he was telling the truth, he may have seen your return.”

The Dunmer Vampire locked her eyes on the torture implements. There was a dark shadow shuffling around behind her eyes, “So Nyralor is gone, then? If you do not know where he has gone… What shall I do with you? I will get no information from you. Nothing I can use, anyway.”

Her eyes fixated on one of the metal rods that were in the fire. The light from the blaze reflected in her eyes and made the saliva on her fangs glisten as her lips parted in a smile. Her Imperial prisoner whimpered.

As darkness once more crossed over the land, the soft thud of a body hitting the ground startled a resting Cliff Racer. The beast let out a shriek and flew off. A pair of dead eyes followed its progress for a moment before they returned to the land.

Her revenge had been denied; she could not take the life of Nyralor… There would be no exchange. No life for a life. Instead, the only thing the Dunmer Vampire could do was flee. She had no choice but to live under the cover of darkness for however long she survived.

She sniffed the breeze, the stench of the ash making the hairs in her nose curl. The woman knew that she could not remain in the crypt forever. Soon, it would be time for her to leave… And when she did, the world would be in danger.

Her fury was the world’s terror.