The Vampire Hunter, A fanfic by DoomedOne Options

[DoomedOne]

Note from the Author: This story is set roughly, very roughly, around the end of the Third Era, basically on the stage of the game Oblivion. However, this is strickly for reference to certain characters from the game and general settings. It is taken in as though Kvatch has not yet been destroyed, and the Emperor still lives, basically before the unknown hero escapes from the Imperial Prison. The difference is the order of events, as certain side quests (such as the order of the Virtuous Blood) have already been completed. All spoilers are extremely minor and irrelevant, and will be specifically pointed out beforehand. If you have not played Oblivion, don't fret, this is just a disclaimer so I don't get complained at if I mention something.

Prologue:

The cobblestone street of Chorrol was quiet that night, with barely a flicker of light from the lamp-posts lighting the way. Hildor wandered home now, wearing his simple mage apprentice robe, exhausted from a long day of training. He felt unable to think properly, his mind still recycling hundreds of lessons on the proper technique to cast a fireball. He didn't even notice the figure cloaked in black along the edge of the Chapel. His home was a long way across town, and he much preferred the short way through the cemetery, though it was lonely and frightening and there were no guards posted nearby, he was too exhausted to pay mind to paranoia at this point, so he gave a heavy sigh and opened the cemetary gate. A second figure in black dropped down from the Chapel roof, joining the first.

Hildor turned around in unplaced suspicion, but there was nothing, he couldn't place what it was that brought upon all these sudden feelings of anxiety. Perhaps it was that the cemetery gate took an unnaturally long time to close. After just a few minutes, Hildor found himself far too deep into the cemetery to turn around, but this suspicious feeling grew heavier. He attempted to muster a bit of light but his magicka was far too drained. Perhaps, now that he thought of it, taking the street was not so much a longer walk, all this worrying was surely more trying on his energy than a nice walk close by the guards.

Hildor's foot hit a hard rock, and fell forward, an elven short blade sweeping directly above him. He turned, seeing just the silhouette of some figure before him, holding an elven shortsword.

"Guards!" he shouted, "guards!"

The first shadowy figure stepped back a bit as Hildor unleashed a grouping a wild kicks. The second, more nimble one leapt over the first wielding a steel dagger, but was suddenly pegged back by an arrow. His body clobbered over the other assassin, while as guard at the end of the cemetary restrung his bow and fired again, pegging him a second time, killing him. The assassin with the elven blade rolled under a tombstone, dodging the arrows that seemed unlikely to miss their marks. Hildor rolled to his belly and attempted to crawl as to avoid getting shot by the guard's arrows.

"Oh no you don't!" shouted the assassin, flinging forward, forgetting himself in succession to his goal. A torch knocked him upside the head as a second guard, wielding a torch in one hand, and a sword in the other, just arrived. Within seconds the assassin was dead.

"All clear over here!" one guard said to the other.

"Any idea who was attacking you, kid?" asked the guard with the bow as he approached.

"No, I have no idea at all," admitted Hildor.

"Perhaps the dark brotherhood?" suggested the guard with the sword.

"Have you done anything to piss anybody off?" asked the guard with the bow.

"No, nothing! Nothing at all!"

"Then that rules out the dark brotherhood, they're employers act out of greed and revenge, nothing more," said the guard with the bow.

"Well, you're a mage, aren't you kid? Perhaps they were necromancers or some other general sort of enemy," suggested the guard with the sword.

"Unlikely," said the guard with the bow. "These guys were good to get through out defenses, this city is well guarded, who would spoil the ability to infiltrate a city for the sake of a mere apprentice? One of those assassins threw his life away to kill that man, there must be a reason." The guard pondered it, "Perhaps it was that Vampire following that's been rumored of in High Rock and the Colovian Highlands?"

"No," said the guard with the sword, "They always attack in groups of three. Anyways, I'll escort him home, and strike at anything that lay in wait there, you should head back to your post."

"I'll inform the captain of this matter, and put them watch on high alert tonight."

"Very good," the guard said before grabbing Hildor by the shoulder and leading him off.

"I don't know what it could have been at all, to be honest that alone has scared me half to death, I've always lived so comfortably and securely, thinking as long as I stayed within the city walls and... oh it's just so dreadful..." Hildor sobbed as they reached his home, unlocked the door, and invited the guard in.

The guard just stood there.

"Well, aren't you going to look around, to be sure they aren't inside?"

The guard smiled, "You can be quite sure, we are," he grinned, "Don't scream for help, I could kill you in a moment. Now then, on to business, you should have a family heirloom, correct? I need it. I need the Ring of the Vampire Hunter, where is it?"

"I... I don't have it," Hildor offered.

"Liar, my superiors went through a lot of trouble tracking it down. We know you have it."

"No, no a thief took it, I don't have it, I was um... robbed this morning! I swear!"

"You have one more chance," he said, as the guard persona disappeared and a young dunmer woman in a black cloak took his position. Her voice was sweet, and her face beautiful despite the bright red, bloodshot eyes. "Where is the ring?"

"A thief!" He yelled, "A thief!"

"Thief you say?" a patrolling guard asked from outside the house.

"Damn!" the dunmer woman shouted, a cutlass already pulled at a moved against his head.

M'Orik sat up from his bed roll and looked about frantically. His dream was terrible. Feeling a little worried, he tore the ring from pocket and gave it a quick run over. He dared not put it on, first chance he got he would sell the cursed thing off to a fence.

This post has been edited by DoomedOne: May 4 2006, 08:00 AM

[DoomedOne]

Chapter 1:

Two vampire guards stood just inside the entrance of a good sized cave, well obscured just within the border to Elswyr. One was a Khajiit, carrying a mace. The second was a Nord, carrying a giant warhammer across his shoulder, seemingly far too large for even a nord to carry.

"Gronnud, To'grae," said a third vampire, an altmer, walking through the corridors to greet them. In the blackness, they saw each other normally.

"Yes Crannus?" asked Gronnud.

"We hunt again tonight, it's been far too long since we last preyed."

"But Crannus, To'Grae is not so sure that's a good idea. A far older vampire clan has caught our scent."

"Thirty years ago when I came to you guys with the proposition I told you we'd become the strongest vampire clan in all of Tamriel didn't I? I still believe it. Go get some rest, you'll need your energy by the time to sun sets."

"Very well, Crannus, but who will keep guard? There are still eight hours," asked Gronnud

"Never you mind that, we'll be fine, only three times has an invader every been in here," said Crannus. "I go now back to sleep, join me shortly."

Crannus left the lair's foyer, leaving Gronnud and To'Grae alone to be evaporated only moments later, their dust collected, the assaulter remaining veiled in shadow, his means unknown.

One by one the rest of the nest was murdered, each member had their coffin opened, and some weapon obscured by shadow stapped into them. How long he had waited was unknown, only his goal was clear.

Crannus was attempting to go back to sleep in his private chambers when something caused him to stir. He looked around, but everything seemed normal. He knew it was off.

"Who are you?" he questioned the void.

"My proper introduction has been completed. I am here at the request of the ransacked village that pains in due to your predation. Your brothers and sisters lay dead, weaklings in falling to an empty promised, souls sacrificed by your vanity to feed your ambition, useless creatures used by you as minions, not as true brothers. I believe in looking at you, you have the talent and tenacity but are similarly cursed by the ever dire naivete that has struck so many young upstarts like you, fearful of their mortal life, stretching their fingers onward into immortality. I cannot blame you, knowledge of one's mortality can cause men to do quite insane things, but stronger than that calling is a calling to justice, for me at least. My name is Grindley, dear beast, Iago."

Crannus stood up, and cast detect life, suddenly able to sense the position of the figure in front of him. He felt heavy, at the realization that he could not sense any of his compatriots.

"You will die for that, mortal!" yelled Crannus, summoning a daedric longsword.

"Doubtful," said Grindley, removing his masque, a white facial one seemingly made out of simple clay, which covered both eyes, the nose, and partially the left side of the forehead and cheek (think phantom of the opera). In his hand, he held a long, thin scimitar, easily shifted up to block the daedric weapon. He wore a long black leather coat, black gloves, and a black broken-brimmed hat that covered the light brown hair that draped along his shoulders. His eyes couldn't be properly described as green, eyes that pierced like those were only suitably called malachite. He had rather dark skin for a breton, but it all fell into background to clash of his weapon against the daedric sword.

"You [censored]!" Crannus screamed, unleashing a shockspell at Grindley, causing him to jump back a bit, a small spark shooting back at Crannus.

"Nice trick," said Grindley, "Want to see mine?" He released one hand from his scimitar and held it into the air, snapping the fingers to form a little flame seemingly coming from each individual finger. He shot forward, grabbing hold of Crannus with the burning hand, little ripples of the flames erupting all over his body. Crannus shot back, a barrage of fireballs following him wherever he attempted to dodge. Eventually he simply disappeared.

"Be very wise on your choice of a hiding spot, vampire," Grindley suggested, listening carefully to be sure the vampire did not get too close while he recovered his energy. When he was finished, he began his hunt through the caverns. Eventually he stopped, and closed his eyes, increasing his breathing. "That was a powerful spell you used earlier, vampire. It probably would have killed someone if the circumstances were different. Likewise I assume it drained you, and now you wait in silence, hoping you have something greater at your disposal. During your run of invisibility, did you by chance find a weapon of some kind to defend yourself with? Hm, don't think I require a spell of detect life, I can smell you."

Grindley leapt forward into the darkness, his scimitar clashing against a regular steel sword. Crannus fell back, and pushed forward again, content on killing the Breton. Grindley waited patiently, fighting defensively, using his body weight to block all the heavy attacks despite the strength of his foe.

Finally Crannus grew impatient, and stepped back, unleashing another heavy shock attack. Again, a small bolt fired back, and again, Grindley seemed to grin in satisfaction.

"You have an enchantment on that resists magicka, I assume it's your amulet, it's what kept you alive. I'm afraid it's not going to work any longer," said Grindley as an orb flew from his hand and struck Crannus. Falling in toe came a caravan of fireballs, putting the Altmer to rest. Iago collected his dust and left the cave, bringing with him twelve pouches full of vampiric remains. "The Order will be pleased that the job is complete," he said to himself as he greeted the sunlight.

Chapter 3 and 4 by tuesday.

This post has been edited by DoomedOne: May 4 2006, 08:00 AM