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 5, while I have a chance.

Chapter 5

Iago Grindley arrived in Chorrol the afternoon of the next day. He rode his albino black horse to the stable and set foot in town. Chorrol was a cozy city, though not so much recently.

A heavy wind blew through Chorrol that day, and large clouds sailed above. Signs above merchants ricketed back, trying to escape from their fastenings. People on the streets that day fought to keep their hair straight, and they were few and far between, Grindley realized. Smiling, he headed to the Inn.

The Gray Mare, as Grindley expected, was cramped with people idling the day away. He sat down across from a somber nord with long gray hair and tiny glasses.

"Excuse me pal, I'm expecting someone," the Nord grunted.

"My apologies. Say, do you know where Hildor Veseras' house is?"

"What do you care? Bah, not my business. He's across from the well, third house down the row, big guard outside his door keeping people out, can't miss it," he said.

"Thank you," said Grindley, standing up. On his way out the door, an altmer tapped him on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, but did you say you were looking for Hildor's house?"

"Yes," said Grindley, heading for the door.

"Err..." the Altmer began, rushing after him out the door, "But why?"

"That's my business," stated Grindley, walking along the Cobblestone street toward the the Chapel.

"But, you realized he's been murdered, correct? No one's allowed in there."

"Leave me be, please, I'm working right now."

"Oh, very well," sniffled the altmer, turning to go.

Upon passing the Chapel, getting into the residential district, grindley checked over his shoulder to be sure the altmer had gone, and dipped into a corner, lifting his mask onto his face.

The guard outside Hildor's door sat on the street, half awake, pondering how long he'd been sitting there. "I don't get why they don't just keep the door locked," he said to himself for ther fiftieth time, leaning his head back to rest again the door.

A bottle smashed behind the house, which sounded a lot like a window. The guard jolted up. "You there, you're in violation!" he yelled, ducking around the corner to see a bunch of broken bottle grass in the middle of no where. Disappointed, he went back to his resting spot.

Grindley removed his mask, finding Hildor's house was empty, the lead investigator taking a break. The house was in perfect order, except for the knife victim on the ground in front of him.

"Why would the Following want to kill you?" he asked the corpse, positioning himself to get an idea. 'Let's see, you feel like this, therefore the killer must have come out you from here. He stood in the door way, meaning you must have come to greet him, but then you would have been to the side of the door. This looks more like he followed you in. Why would you let someone follow you in? Well, they had a disguise of course... but... why would they go through all that trouble to kill you in your own home, and not follow through with it and suck your blood...

"They were hunting for information," Grindley realized. In the next hour, every book on a book shelf and piece of paper on or in a desk was looked through. Grindley found what he needed in a book hidden in Hildor's opened jewerly box.

"So, Kindre Monovias was a dunmer, who had two son, Galhad and Bencyl. Galhad had a daughter, Haratta Monovias, who married Scodrad Veseras, and so the direct family line continues all the way to Hildor Veseras." Grindley noticed on the two brother's family lines were on the page, Bencyl always seemingly having one son, who carried the name Bencyl II, Bencyl III, etcetera. No one his family ever had any daughters. Some of the dates were erratic on Bencyl's line as well, such that some members lived for two hundred anf fifty years, and others for just fifty, and yet each member always managed to have one son, and only one son.

Pocketing the Lineage Chart, Grindley put his mask back on and walked out the front door, not even pausing for the guard's baffled expression. As he turned the corner at the Chapel, he removed his mask again and headed for the watch headquarters.

Arthur Pralius sat at his desk, shuffling through papers, when Grindley entered the Town Watch headquarters.

"Um... may I help you?" Arthur Pralius asked, lifting his head up from his desk.

"My name is Ritharden Credieux, private investigator," said Grindley, "I've been hired by a family friend of Mr. Veseras to make sure the killer is found."

"No, no private investigators! I assure you we have this task well taken care of!" Arthur asserted.

"Be that as it may, I'm a specialist, and as far as I know no progress has been made, and there are... let's say... political influences to keep certain information under the rug. Because of that I was hired, now, just please answer a few questions and I'll be out of your face."

"Very well," Arthur grumbled.

"Okay, did Mr. Veseras have a safe box secured outside of his home?" asked Grindley.

"No."

"Was anyone under the name Monovias in town recently?"

"No."

"Has he reported anything stolen?"

Arthur hesitated, 'No."

"What was it?"

"It's not any of your business."

Grindley smiled, "Thank you."

Grindley left the watch headquarters and wandered around town until he found a homeless man napping behind a house.

"Friend," he said approaching him with a few gold coins. "Could you direct me to the fences in Chorrol?"

***

"Can I help you?" a dunmer with large eyebrows and a pale face asked.

"I heard you buy hot things," Grindley whispered to him as the two men sat down out of earshot.

"You a member of the guild?"

"I'm looking to buy, I need to take a look at all your most recent items, and you need to tell me where you got them."

"Hah, I've heard that story before, get out of my face."

Grindley sighed, "You may be involved in something you don't comprehend to the full entity of."

"Leave me alone," the dunmer said.

"Fine," said Grindley, leaving rather frustrated. On his way out the door, a khajiit practically ran right into him.

"Help M'Oric!" yelled the khajiit.

"He went in there!" a guard yelled from outside. M'Oric dodged around Grindley, running over to the dunmer to whisper something in his ear. Two guards charged through the door.

"You, thief! You're coming with us!" said one.

"No! No! They are not guards! Someone help me!" M'Oric screamed scrambling around the building. he was tackled by a guard and hauled off, the dunmer held a placid face until they left. Grindley turned to leave as well.

"Sir, I think I know what you're looking for," said the dunmer. "A ring, correct?"

"Perhaps," said Grindley, turning around. "Do you have it?"