
Master

Joined: 11-February 06
From: In a cold place.

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The teeth-part was for a reason beyond just aping Elizabeth. Ok, same reason as she did but still valid enough.
And err, apologies for my latest absense. Anyhow, on with the show.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ Chapter 2.2
There was only one kind of 'help' a vampire could want and I wasn't willing to give it. Not that I'd ever heard of a vampire who was stopped by being told 'no'. Still, I tried. "Go away, blood drinker." No other options came to mind. Fighting a vampire, especially two of them, would be suicide. I remembered a few raids into a vampire's lair, but those always had the odds stacked in our favour. Entering when the vampire was least dangerous, preferably slumbering, bringing special equipment and making sure the fanged vermin was outnumbered four to one at least. I any case, my words seemed to have surprised these two, going by the flailing of their arms and half-hearted refutations. Evidently they'd thought their deception to be better than it actually was. That, or they had no idea what effects weather like this had on the cold body of a vampire.
"Now now. We weem yu no hawm. Jut a sip." One replied, surrendering the charade. Just a sip? Who was it kidding? A vampire was never stuffed after 'just a sip'. The other began arguing with it. "Do we haw to do wis? Can we nob dwink vwom a cup? Like people?" "I diwn bwing won. Diwd you?"
It gave me more time to think and to carefully loosen the knife in its sheath. Drawing now would be almost instantaneous, but still too slow, the distance to them still too great. And just why had I seen through their deception in the first place? Vampires made a habit of studying the arts of illusion and seemed to have a strange affinity for it. Instead of looking at these undercooled corpses pretend to be alive, I should have taken them at their word and seen whatever they wanted me to see. Or was this what I was supposed to see? Why weren't they carrying any weapons? They might not need them, but most vampires did anyway because there was no reason not to. "Vampires who reveal themselves don't tend to live long. Especially those without even as much as a kitchen knife. This stinks."
Then there was this bickering. Why? If it was some trick to make me misjudge them, it wasn't working. Vampires weren't supposed to stop and debate what was the most civilized way to murder people and suck them dry like an oversized mosquieto. Did no one brief them on their vampirehood? Now there was a possibility. Perhaps it wasn't a trick at all. "If their infection was accidental, they could be clueless."
Vampires were born through two methods. First was when one vampire deliberately infected a mortal, watched over the corrupting process and properly educated its kin. The new vampire would usually end up subservient to its 'parent', often delivering prey and the like. The other came when a victim of a vampire attack didn't die. If a healer was on the scene in time and didn't recognize the symptoms, the victim could be stabilized with the infection left untouched. Then within the next few days the diseased would enter a coma indistinguishable from death. A few more and the new vampire would awaken, often within a fresh grave and always craving blood.
It would explain a lot. But not their ability to reason. They were obviously well-fed, yet behaved as if this was their first time. Still, even that I could explain. A hungry vampire was like a rabid animal, completely incapable of reason and possessing only the impulse to leap and bite. That included the ability to memorize. We'd confronted but failed to kill one such feral once. The next time we faced it, it had held no recognition of our earlier meeting or any fight at all.
For all I knew these two really had been farmers from Ivamsstead or wherever. Not that it mattered. I tried one more time to convince the vampires to leave me alone before I would resign myself to having to fight them off somehow. "What if I leave? No harm." "Sowwy, we haw to dwink. Cawn't be piwkey."
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"So be it." I thought. I would take away their guard, make them trip, then Them could rush the monsters. I braced myself and filled my lungs to the limit. "Fus!" Ribs crushed my lungs. A spasm of the throat. A gust of hot air burst from my lips.
And nothing else.
"Wha? Dew iz no need do zwere." The vampires complained. "We down do diz fow fun. We haw to." "If only I could become Fist. It would make things so much easier." I thought and chewed on my lower lip in frustration. In truth I had known that the pressure of the danger I was in would not magically endow me with the skill needed to make it work. But it just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for the Breton to be able to do it without practice or without even knowing how or why. I hated that. "And I'm Kettle. Next plan then."
"Go away, or I kill you." Two of them, and only one knife. I'd have to use magic to bolster my offense. The problem with that was that I had no mages among Them so I'd have to do this myself. At least until I'd launched my spell. One was all I'd be able to cast. I began the handmotions to draw out and shape the magicka-pattern. "I should have studied the destruction tome first." "Hoy hoy. We aw wampiwes." The one who was nearest said. "We can't be kiwled. Bows swed zo. We aw de bewst fiwtews in Skidjim." Vampires are better than their mortal host in every way, that much was true. Stronger, faster, tireless, every sense sharpened to a fine edge. But being physically able was one thing. Vampires were not magically imbued with all the knowledge and instincts needed to fight. I was having the feeling these two hadn't been informed of that little detail. Or they were very good at faking it. "In which case I am very dead."
My fingers began to prick and tingle and I held the spell. I kept giving up enough magicka to sustain it, but not the spark that would turn it into light. Them was ready. Yet I needed to better the odds first before launching my attack. "Ok. Come here. You can drink." I said and lifted my chin. The vampires grinned and one came closer. Ideally I would have drawn in both but I'd take whatever I could get. "Yes. Daws bewter. Thiw won huwt, I pwomiz." It said, placed its hands on my shoulders and leaned close. The veins flanking my throat felt like they were about to burst and I swallowed. Was that vampire magic or just me becoming hyper-focussed on that spot because I knew what it was about to do? Letting a vampire get within biting range ran counter to every rule of vampire-combat. It was suicidal. It also got it within stabbing range.
Its teeth touched, like two big thumbs pushing against the skin. That was the moment.
My hands flew out. Left first, a flick of the wrist around the waist, the spark that birthed the sun and gave it flight. Pass the baton. Right follows, bringing the knife. I enter low then sweep it up as the blade splits everything in its path. Groin, belly, sternum. Shove with left, the first target falls. Move in on the second.
It says something, flailing its hands. My tongue spits a retort. "Because you let me." It is Spar, clamp down on it, shut it out. The vampire shuffles back, too slow to escape. Sprint in close, lead with the knife. It is slapped away, spinning me to the right. Left hand rises with the momentum, fist aimed at throat. It parries, diverting my strike upwards. I continue my turn, pivot on one foot as the other thrusts out into a straight kick. The vampire escapes my last attack by simply outrunning it. It flees bouncing high up in the air like an oversized toad and covering an arrow's flight with each step.
I blinked away the spots as the second farmer vanishes in the darkness. What had happened to my spell? Did I miss, or did I miscast? "If all I managed to do was half-blind myself, It was worse than useless." I thought angrily. Then something grabbed my ankle and swept me off my feet. I landed hard and twisted to try and see what had done it. It was the first vampire, gnawing on my boot in a mad frenzy! I could feel the teeth, their sharpness, drilling through the folded furs and leather! "Let go! Die!" I yelled and stabbed blindly at the monster with my knife. Again and again, not caring where I hit, just that I did. "Die!"
Simple fatigue was what stopped me. The bony weapon slid out of my cramped fingers and I resorted to beating its skull with my fists before that too, was too much. I fell flat on my back and drew in gasping lungfulls. The pressure on my ankle was still there, the teeth that tried to bite me, to kill or taint. "Killed by a... Is this it...that doesn't even know itself...thrice-cursed vampire..." The thought came in fragments, repeating out of order. But the teeth weren't moving and eventually the panicky animal I'd become noticed. That gave room for more productive thoughts.
I lifted my boot and heard the Vampire's skull plop back down in the wet snow. "Ok, I'm alive. Where did the second one run off to?" I looked around but didn't see anyone. That put a broad limit on the amount of time I'd wasted just lying around. There was no way the Stormcloak's guard could have missed the light from my spell unless he'd fallen asleep. And there was no way anyone else could have missed it either. "The Orc said there was an army of the bloodsuckers roaming the province. What if these two were just the vanguard, an unarmed scouting party? They did mention a boss." General Stormcloak's Nords or vampires out for revenge and blood, not necessarily in that order. I wasn't eager to have an encounter with either. With that in mind I forced myself back onto my knees and then my feet. My still shaking feet.
"Time to leave." The impulse echoed and my hand came up on its own to feel my neck. It was wet, but no odd pain or gaping holes. Just the snow then. I felt relieved to know that. "Time to leave." I, Them, thought again and pushed me forward along the path. It was the best decision, the safest. For me, but not for Whiterun. The Jarl had to be informed and to do that, I would need proof. I also wasn't going to leave without the knife that had saved my life and which I had to admit, was growing attached to. So I fought down the chorus and knelt down next to the corpse. A quick look for anything of interest, that was all. Then I'd run, or march, or stumble, as fast as I could.
My repeated stabbing hadn't left much whole of its skull and neck. The knife had gone all the way through each time or whittled away big slices on a glancing blow. And going by the position of its arms and legs, how it hadn't used them against me, my earlier surprise attack must have damaged the spine. The flesh was oozy, only somewhat decomposed. Zombie-like, not draugr or dust. "This vampire was new, just a few days at most." I turned the body over and ran a finger through the canyon I'd carved through its torso I could definitely feel the spine, even the crack in the vertebrae. It was all very interesting, but not anything I could use as proof unless I miraculously received the strength to carry the vampire away on my back.
"Fifteen...sixteen...come on, just something I can grab....nineteen...maybe I should cut out its jaw....twenty-one." I counted the seconds as I raised my knife. At thirty, I told myself, I would leave. Not a second later. "Twenty-three....twenty-four...what's that?" Something was lying in the snow, glinting in the moonlight. It was right where the vampire had been before I'd turned it over. I quickly snatched it up, two metal parts judging by the feel. They were curved pieces, with blunt spikes sticking out. "Was it wearing this around its neck? Hmm, I think the other had something like it. The one that got away. Thirty-two." I was out of time and this had to do.
I got to my feet and half-ran, half-walked down the road to Whiterun. Knife in my hand and scanning the darkness around me all the way. The gateguards saw me stumble up the path and came down to meet me. I was grateful for their strength as I collapsed in their arms. "Ho there, Whisperer. Are you alright?" "Caius, now." I answered. They quickly ferried me through the gatedoor and into the barracks just beyond. Inside it was as it always was in the depth of the night. Soldiers wearing their uniforms to varying degrees, from full armour safe for the helmet down to their underwear. They gambled, drank and talked with loud voices, punctuated by laughter and shouts at a joke or a remarkable roll of the dice. But that all ceased the moment I was carried in. It always did, though I didn't know why.
The gateguards brought me up to the captain's office, saluted the man and then left. The captain was a heavily balding Imperial, with a prominent scar beneath his left eye and a tattoo on his arm that signified participation in the battle at Red Ring. He appraised me for a moment in silence, then drew out a seat on which I happily crashed. "Did you slaughter the whole camp by yourself?" He said in a cold tone, "And then decide to bathe in their guts?"
I dug the bits of metal out of my vest-pocket and threw them down on the table. "Forget the Stormcloaks, we've got another problem." I said, pointing at the two pieces. I now had the time to look at them properly myself. "The Orc was right. Vampires." They were clearly two halves of the same thing. A ring, with spokes. I would have called it a ship's wheel, if the spokes didn't flare out into arrowpoints.
Caius' attitude instantly changed from thinly veiled displeasure to open concern. "Shor's, is there even a drop left in you?" He asked me. I fingered my neck and the gaps bored in my boot. I then observed that my furs were all crimson. It made me laugh. No wonder the captain thought I'd gone berserk on the Stormcloaks. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it." I answered him. The captain frowned and walked over to a large cabinet. He opened it and took out a bottle and a large cup. "That's what you always say. Drink." He commanded, looked at the bottle and then set it down on the table before me. The cup went back in the cabinet. "Make it the whole bottle."
The greasy liquid was disgusting, it made me gag. Still, I wasn't going to disobey an order while sitting right in front of him. I forced myself to keep drinking. Quick sloshes down my throat, trying to taste as little of it as possible. "Something was odd about them, though." I said during one long pause inbetween the gulps. "I mean, I'm here talking about it. That's not right."
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OOC: I should probably stop stacking the deck so much in her favour all the time. But at the same time, I couldn't afford to have Spar get injured at this point. There was no support for her out there and unlike the excursion to the barrow, she had not been given the chance to load up for war. (Probably should have mentioned that)
I also should have properly worked out Them before I'd started writing. The idea is still the same in general, but the way it works is already shifting.
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Fabulous hairneedle attack! I'm gonna be bald before I hit twenty.
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