Heroes Of The North

[Macman253]

Geralt Vex, a tall and lithe but muscular imperial knelt down in the snow. The moons were full and at his feet was a set of footprints. He looked at them closely, noticing they were deep so their owner was laden down with something. Likely his next meal, he looked into the distance. His eyes viewing the night as if it was day, dawn was approaching and he knew its prey had maybe till then before he fed. He had been tracking a vampire for three days, it killed a family of travelers on the road near Whiterun and began to flee towards Markarth. He drew the crossbow from his side and fixed a bolt into it, the silver tipped bolt gleamed in the moonlight, strapped across his back with the hilts of his twin swords off to the right side. Emblazoned on one blade was the symbol of Stendarr, he drew the blade and followed after the footsteps, the vampire had an hours lead on him but he was tired and lacked blood.

 

Geralt had retained his energy and a supply of blood potions to last him a few weeks. The Dhamphir or half-vampire only fed on the blood of the priests of stendarr that offered it to him, it sustained him but it tasted horrible. Despite his vampiric powers he required normal food aswell. He had not eaten in three days but he was used to going long periods without 'hard' foods. The tracks told him a story as he followed them, the victim was still alive. He knew that by their consistent stopping and change in direction, the woman jostled and fought. No blood was found so he had not killed recently to feed from which means he was running low, his powers would be greater but he would be physically weaker.

 

He followed the tracks to a cave known locally as Broken Fang Cave, smelling the stench of death from inside he walked in carefully. His crossbow aimed at the darkness and his blade held at the ready. As he entered he found a series of steps that ran down into the main room of the cave, the far wall had a small tunnel that stretched to a back room. He crouched and slunk into the darkness as he saw them, three vampires and the young girl. Maybe ten or twelve winters. The leader wore the black bade of the Brethren, he smelled of power but he was no master. Most certainly a Blooded though, the two others were fledglings. A dark-elf woman and a nord man. He looked around the room to see piles of bones and bits of corpses from past victims. Strewn across the room were clothes and trinkets from their past meals. Some of the bodies were of bandits and others of travelers and townsfolk from nearby villages.

 

"Looks like the Blooded killed all but these two and turned them into his Acolytes." He thought as he watched, waiting for the right moment to strike.

 

The dunmer woman ran a blade along the young girls face, not piercing skin but to taunt the frightened girl. She stuck her tongue out and bared her fangs as she did so, her body moved with a sick pleasure at the torturous act. "So little girl, are you scared?" She taunted, jabbing the knife at her. The little girl, wide-eyed with fear nodded her head frantically. Her mouthed gagged and hands bound.

 

The Nord male laughed heartily, "Avena you are too cruel... I am not overly hungry right now but the boss is... look at him! He looks about as hungry as a starved Horker." Said the Nord, The Blooded Vampire bared his fangs and hissed at the nord angrily. The Nord man took a few steps back to avoid his masters wrath.

 

"You will speak to me with respect Hemnir, or I shall use your skull as my chamberpot." Threatened the Vampire, he pushed Hemnir aside and approached the little girl. Avena stepped out of his way as he bared his fangs. "Dinner time.." He said just as Geralt fired a bolt at the back of the Nord vampire, the bolt pierced the creatures heart and he exploded in a cloud of ash. Geralt dropped the cross-bow and drew his second sword as he leapt from the top of the stairs. The Blooded Vampire was able to draw his own blades as he fell upon him, their blades locked together in a shower of sparks.

 

Avena flipped her dagger around and charged at Geralt's right side, Geralt kicked her back and pushed back on the Blooded vampire with his blades to break their sword-lock. The Vampire's twin swords whirled around in a twin-fanged slicing maneuver that Geralt ducked around and countered with a thrust and a slash to the middle. The Vampire was a skilled swordsman and he easily parried the thrust and ducked the slash. Geralt, ducked his riposte and parried the next thrust. Meanwhile Avena rose from the earth and picked up a crossbow that sat on the table nearby, she racked in a bolt and aimed at the two men as they fought. When she had found her target she fired, the bolt soared through the air and struck home in Geralts side. The impact sent Geralt staggering and he dropped his left hand blade. The bolt had imbedded itself deep in his ribs. He pulled it out and tossed it aside, much to the shock of Avena and the leader.

 

"What are you!" Asked the Blooded Vampire, Geralt tucked his toe under his sword on the floor as the battle had paused. His eyes darting from one vampire to the next. The leader had him dead to rights with a blade to his chest. The tip resting on the silver locket that once belonged to his mother. "I'm complicated...." He said as he parried away the Blooded vampires blade with a lighting quick flick of the wrist, he kicked up the second blade and caught it. Then buried it hilt deep in the vampires black heart. The blooded vampire hissed loudly as his flesh turned to ash, leaving only his clothing and items atop the pile. Avena dropped her crossbow and looked around frantically for a way out, a way to escape the hunter. But there was none... Geralt grasped her hard and threw her into the wall with such force that the rock spiderwebbed and she fell into unconsciousness.

 

When she awoke, she was bound and unable to move, The hunter was sitting reversed on a chair over her torso. The support bar of the chair on her throat, applying pressure to it. The little girl clutched to his pants, he had a sly smile on his face. His fangs shown through the smile. Her eyes widened as she realized what he was. "You are the Daywalker! I thought they were impossible to exist!" She exclaimed, The hunter drew a silver throwing knife from his bandolier and handed it to the girl. "Here, have fun..." He said, the girl took the knife and pressed it to Avena's cheek. Her fleshed burned at the touch of silver, causing her body to shake and convulse but she was pinned and unable to lift him off as the little girl spent all day having fun with the vampire, by sunset. The vampires dreams of death came true at the hands of the girl.

Edited January 31, 2013 by Macman253

[mythicdawnmaster]

The delicate, clawed hand smacked violently across the stubble-heavy cheek of the nordic prisoner, blood tricking from the side of his mouth. The hand gripped him with the strength to rival a troll, and twisted his face to meet the eyes of it's owner.

 

"Tell me what the patrol was doing on Imperial land, or i will skin you alive, strip by strip." These dark words flowed from the crimson arches that were the Lips of the Vampire, Selene. Her eyes stared, unblinking, at the bloody and broken Stormcloak.

 

"It... it was just a scouting party..." he spoke, lacking breath. His eyes were partially shut due to the intense bruising around his sockets. He had been detained in Solitude's prison for four days, and what a long four days they had turned out to be. Grabbed from the woods by Imperial guardsmen, the Stormcloak was brought back for interrogation. The first day, they, under command from the mysterious 'Lady Strident', Broke his legs. The second day, the beat him to a pulp over and over. The third day, he was put on the rack, and now, on the fourth, he had the pleasure of being subjected to a sadistic monster.

 

"No it was not!" The Vampire screamed at the top of her normally quite voice, the seductive quality lost on this monstrous outburst. "A simple scouting party... Ha! You sought to ambush someone didn't you? Hmm? The General? A Legate? A Noble?" Selene asked, still unblinking.

 

"Just... a check on the numbers... of the Imperial army..." The Stormcloak said weakly, his eyes lolling into the back of his head.

 

"Ha! A check on numbers? You nords can't count the amount of diseases you have, let alone how many soldiers are garrisoned here." The Vampiress scoffed, throwing the nord face first on the ground, an audible crack resonated in the silent torture chamber. "Guard! Bring me the Garotte." She said softly.

 

The guardsmen hauled in the black torture machine, setting it down in the centre of the room. At a click of Selene's fingers, they lifted the nord from the ground, and strapped him tightly to the chair, his arms, legs, and most importantly neck were bound in iron. The small, metal spike rested at the back of the nords neck, only just touching his skin. The last hours of his life were intensely painfull. With every time he was asked the same question, over and over, Selene spun the wheel on the garotte just a little more, tightening it's grip on his neck, until eventually, he choked to death, the spike pushed a few inches into the back of his throat.

 

"Clean this mess up... and record the death as execution for attacking a guard." Selene said with a sigh once she was finished, disappointed she got nothing from the torture. The Guards disproved of her vile methods, and some who used to tend the jails left because of it. The Vampire cared not however, to her people were cattle, and cattle expendable.

 

Having made her way up onto the battlements of the Castle, Selene leant, with a goblet of blood in her hand, on the walls, looking down at the main square of solitude, her face an expressionless mask as she watched the peasants toil away in their day to day activities- To her it was like watching a play, all these people little animals on the set.

Edited January 31, 2013 by mythicdawnmaster

[Niborino9409]

Everything was calm in Riften. Well not excactly calm, sounds could be heard from the city; idle chatter from the market, salesmen selling their wares and the smith hammering on his anvil, smithing a sword to perfection. But Eykthain heard none of those sounds, for he was busy packing.

 

He had to bring several things with him: weapons, potions, tools, food and drink, he had much to prepare. Starting with his swords, he went down in the basement to fetch them. Eykthain had 2 swords, one a Nordic steelsword and the other a glass sword. He carried them carefully up the stairs and laying them down on the bed as carefully as he had held his daughter many years ago. He did not have to pack everything by himself, even though his wife did not agree with this choice, she still helped him pack. After an hour everything was packed. It was time to leave.

 

 

"Please be careful, Eykthain. Promise that you will return home" His wife was worried, he could hear it, but she still did not want to stop him from fullfilling what he wanted.

 

"I assure you that I will return home, I may not be as young as before, but I certainly haven´t gotten weak. Don´t worry."

 

A familiar voice broke in, the voice that always brought a smile to Eykthains face. It was his daughter, Eireen.

 

"Sure you don´t want me to come with you dad? You could use some help carrying all that stuff." Eykthain looked up to meet her gaze, he had to look up, because she were as tall as her mother.

 

 

"No, I want you to stay in Riften with your mother, I want you to keep her safe."

 

"Ok, but can I follow you past the City gate at least?"

 

Eykthain looked at his wife who was nodding. Eireen could follow Eykthain past the gate but no further.

 

Eykthain embraced Jordis and kissed her, then he picked up his belongings and left the house with his daughter.

 

Jordis looked from the window as her two Dunmers walked side by side towards the City gate.

 

 

 

They arrived at the City gate and Eireen hugged her father, hoping that he would return as he said that he would.

 

After saying goodbye they separated, Eireen returned to Jordis and Eykthain began his journey, a journey that would prove that this old Dunmer still had what it takes.

Edited January 31, 2013 by Niborino9409

[Macman253]

Geralt emerged from Broken Fang Cave, the moons hung lazily in the sky. The girl wrung the sleep from her eyes as she looked up at her savior. "What's your name?" Asked the Breton girl, Geralt looked down at her. He remained silent for a moment and then spoke, "Geralt Vex, what's yours?" He replied as he wiped his sword clean of the blackened blood of the vampire with a hand-rag. He slid the sword into the scabbard on his back and placed his fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. The girl looked around to see what he was whistling at and then back at him. "Sophie, my name is Sophie." She said. A few moments of silence later, a large horse trotted up to them. Its saddle strapped with a quiver of arrows and a bow, saddle-bags strapped across its flanks. Geralt stepped up on the horse and made to turn away from the girl, he stopped as his mind raced to his own childhood. Being left in the cold with no one, the girl looked at him. Wishing he would take her with him. He waved for her to come to him.

 

"If you wish to come with me, you will not find a father... you will find a purpose, you will find a bed and food." He said coldly, his dark eyes staring into her beautiful blue sapphire eyes. The girl nodded, she fixed her stained dress. She silently hated it, it was once beautiful but neglect and lack of cleaning ruined it. Her mother was more interested in strong drink and her father was more interested in gambling so they were too poor to afford good dresses. She reached up to take Geralts hand, he hauled her up onto the saddle. Sitting her in front of him and wrapping his arm around her as he took the reins and guided his steed north, towards Solitude.

 

"This your horse?" She asked as they trotted down the road, Geralt was not accustomed to chatting, let alone with children. He found his words and replied. "Yes, he was given to me by The Order." He said, Sophie calmly petted his neck. Her hands caressing the horses thick muscular neck and the long silvery mane of the white and black horse. "What's his name?" She asked, Geralt remained silent. He had never given the horse a name. "His name is Horse...." He said, Sophie laughed. The first smile on her face since he met her. She looked up into Geralts cold black eyes and smiled wider. "You can't name him that, don't be silly." She said, Geralt smiled as the horse slowed to a walk. His breath was heavy and he grew tired. Geralt slid off the back and left Sophie on the saddle since the horse could carry her weight no problem.

 

"Then you can name him..." He replied as he grasped the horses reins and began to walk him. Sophie smiled, she idly braided strands of the horses mane. "I'll call him...." She said as she thought of a name, she noticed the large black spot on what was otherwise a perfect white skin. "Spot!" She exclaimed, she chuckled at her joke. Geralt also laughed, something he had not done in decades. This girl was interesting, she had spirit. He patted the great horses neck, Geralt was tall even for a Imperial but this horse was bred in skyrim. His head stood above Geralts, easily seven feet at the top of his head and six at the shoulder. "Spot it is..." He said as they walked. Sophie's eyes drifted to the swords on his back and his silvery hair. "Why is your hair so white...you don't look old..." She said, Geralt's smile vanished. He was not comfortable talking about his differences. He spent the majority of his time in seclusion to avoid the eyes of those that would never accept him. "It was a product of my birth, along with other things..." He replied, the girl reached out and touched the pommel of one of his twin swords. The blades were made of Silvered-Steel. Strong as steel and retaining the properties of a silver blade. They were forged and utilized by his mentor, engraved in the pommels was the symbol of Stendarr and the family crest of the Vex Family, in cyrodill, they were renowned paladins and knights. Often lead witch-hunts and vampire cleansings, during the Oblivion Crisis the Mythic Dawn eliminated all but a few of them and the Vex's vanished into obscurity.

 

"These are beautiful, where did you get them?" She asked, her fingers caressing the exquisitely crafted blades. The hilts were wrapped in black leather with gold inlay along the hilts. Her fingers traced the crest and the horn of Stendarr. Geralt kept his eyes on the road, his mind flashed back to when he took them from his mentor, Geralt Vex. He remembered him calling him his son and giving him the blades. "They are family relics, made two hundred years ago by The Order." He said, the sun rose across the mountains and bathed the valley in an orange light. In the distance was Solitude, her walls glowing from the sunlight and the Blue Palace dominating the horizon.

Edited January 31, 2013 by Macman253

[Niborino9409]

Eykthain followed the road towards Shor´s Stone, not knowing where he would end up. As he entered the small settlement he saw it, a carriage.

He felt that he had walked enough.

"Where to?" The carriage driver said with a Nordic accent.

"I don´t really know. I wanted to go out on a last adventure before I become too old. But for the first time in my life I do not know where to go" Eykthain said it with sadness in his voice. He were aware that he were growing old, no doubt. His hair showed signs of grey hair and thus destroying the illusion of a blonde mane, worthy a successful bard.

" You look familiar, whats your name stranger?" The carriage driver asked. When he heard the name of the man before him, the carriage driver stared at Eykthain as if he had spat him in the face.

 

"Rightain, you don´t happen to be related to General Eyrevehn Rightain?"

"That is my father, but he is...Dead."

"Then I have some good news for you. I have heard rumours that he isn´t dead, yes I have."

"Impossible" Eykthain felt a sting of happines, but at the same time, suspicion. He really did not believe what the carriage driver said, but he really wanted to.

"Bring me to the one that spreads these rumours, if it is all a lie, I shall cut his tongue and feed it to him, piece by piece."

"Solitude it is then, and don´t worry about payment since you are such a nice fella, you get this ride for free, yes you doohoo"

 

Eykthain did not know why he could talk to this man so easily, he did not talk very often less to complete strangers, but this man was special, very special. He were to solve this mystery and bring an end to these rumours, if they were rumours at all.

 

The carriage driver whipped the horse to a steady pace and they were off.

Edited January 31, 2013 by Niborino9409

[Zephyr2011]

Tenibrus breathed in the crisp cool mountain air of the night. It was almost intoxicating. He had always enjoyed the reach, preferring mountains to the beautiful beaches most fantasized of. This highland inclination had only intensified since his turning and Markarth was a most excellent post for him. The Brethren felt somewhat indebted to him for his sly infiltration and subterfuge in the city that enabled them to take it. As a result he was kept very comfortable and very entertained as the overseer of the mines. Night was the best time to be about Markarth, whether a vampire or not. The smithies didn't run as frequently then and thus the acrid black smoke did not pervade ones nostrils. Granted, the odious scent of the forge was not as offensive in Markarth on account of the purifying effects of the rushing falls. They helped to subdue most odors quite well but did not obliterate them completely. Tenibrus strolled towards the market at a leisurely pace. The city was the Brethren's but its citizens were still mostly diurnal and left the marketplace quite peaceful in the depths of the night.

 

The strange vampire had recently been feeding and felt his powers grow as the blood settled further in his belly. He was not like the brethren, he needed the blood to fuel his power or at least its greater echelons. The Brethren attempted to abstain from blood for as long as possible to heighten their strength until they could not keep their sanity without blood. Tenibrus was free from that two-edged sword but had been afflicted with a perhaps worse one. He had long needed blood to even survive but the longer he survived and the more he fed the less he needed it and the more his power grew. When flush with blood his power was immense and he could walk in even the most glaring sunlight without fear of pain or death, albeit with none of his strength. As it stood he was very capable of masking his form and using extensive magics. He perused the closed stalls, all locked up and shut down. He sometimes liked to imagine examining the wares as if they were actually there.

 

"Fantasizing of produce again Tenibrus?" A rich, baritone voice called out from between some of the stone buildings.

 

"You know I always had a weakness for apples." Tenibrus replied, turning his head while he stooped over a fruit stand.

 

The Overseer straightened as the captain of the city guard approached him from the shadows and continued, "Tis a fine night, cousin."

 

"I do believe I am the only one you refer to as a cousin." Tenibrus commented.

 

"Because you are the only cousin with which I am civil," The captain grinned broadly, his pointed fangs revealing themselves, "I exist to protect my brothers and sisters from our other cousins."

 

"Ah yes, and let us not neglect the hapless fools who do not share in our bond at all."

 

"Indeed, but that is your job, my cous."

 

"Quite right, you fend off the impure undead and I enslave the living fools." Tenibrus replied with a slight smile.

 

"How are the mines?" The captain, suddenly business.

 

"The quota's will all be met, have no fear."

 

"You are on schedule then?"

 

"Yes, quite." Tenibrus smiled more fully now, his fangs were significantly longer and more pointed than the captain's, with the rest of his teeth also sharpened slightly giving his smile a more shark-like look than human. It was another of the subtle differences in their bloodlines.

 

"Excellent, the silver is needed to fund our interests and arm my men. I have heard talk that some lycanthropes have been spotted here in the Reach."

 

"Rest assured, your blades will strike true with the finest silver in Skyrim and our coffers shall continue to overflow." Tenibrus blanked his face after this last exchange. The captain nodded slightly and the overseer bowed before the two took their leave of each other.

 

His meeting complete, Tenibrus continued his walk of the city. The charm of dwarvish craftsmanship had still yet to wear off on him. He always marveled at their ingenuity and engineering feats. It had been his principle subject of study at the College, other than expanding his own power of course.

[mythicdawnmaster]

Back inside Blue palace, the mood hadn't changed at all. A dull, deprived feel floated the halls, not a smile had graced a face in days. General Tullius' brow was wrinkled with anger as he looked at the Vampire before him, her own face in an eyebrow-raised expression, bored terribly as the man lectured her. He had enough of the constant torture that was going on in his prisons, most often no information ever being aquired.

 

"You've cost me three men, who now live to drink their sorrows away in the Winking Skeever, valuable prisoners, and much needed morale! How can my men function when the only sound they can hear for hours upon end is the screams of other men? Stormcloaks or not, you look more a barbarian then those savages! Torture this, and torture that! The Emperor sent you here to advise me on matters of policy and action, not to become castle Dours little sadist! I want the torture to stop." Tullius voiced his words clearly and firmly, he hated politics, and some sick politician with an obsession with torture served only to hack him off even more.

 

Selene smiled ever so slightly and retorted "Without my torturing, how would you have found that meeting place? Uncovered the ring of traitors, hmm? Sure we can bribe them and spend months giving them what they want, or try gentle persuasion by imprisoning them for weeks upon end, but it has no real effect... And i thought you had a stronger stomach then to mind a few unconventional techniques?" She asked with scorn in her voice. She'd played games with Tullius since she arrived, but her help had proven invaluable.

 

"It's not a matter of minding a few techniques, you are systematically torturing your way through all of my prisoners, killing them, and falsely writing down a load of nonsense on their death! I have seen worse, but this is becoming too frequent! Torture is a last resort!, Especially the kind you're dishing out. It doesn't make us look very good now does it? I don't know how you did things in the Imperial city, But that castle is mine, you hear? If you have to torture, then as a last resort only. or we are going to have a falling out." Tullius was strong and firm, he would take no more.

 

Selene rolled her eyes and sighed at the General, or, whatever title he now held. "Fine, fine. But when we are attacked suddenly with no information on why, it can all go on your head for not letting me torture a few Nords. What, you gotten all soft for the Barbarians now? Your time here 'Opened your eyes' to their customs has it?" Selene chided, a wicked smirk across her face.

 

"Enough! We shall speak of this no longer!" Tulius shouted, slamming his hand into the table. "You can return to your stations." he said, enraged by her words- it was true the nords were growing on him, but he'd never admit to that.

 

A chuckle escaped the Vampire's throat, and she left the room, smiling as she went. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, until she closed the large iron door behind her. Stepping out into the courtyard of the castle, the rising sun made her blood boil, she hissed as the uncomfortable rays settled on her skin. Bringing her veil down over her face, she walked through the archway that lead to the streets, and headed up through the town, to the small area in which the blacksmith and the Fletcher set up shop. She looked down at the city once more, many locals looking up briefly, but quickly dropping their gaze.

Edited February 1, 2013 by mythicdawnmaster

[Macman253]

The sun hung in the sky as it loomed over the city of Solitude, its markets were vibrant and filled with chatter as traders peddled their wares and patrons browsed the selections. Entertainers of all sorts were present, jugglers, bards and acrobats. It was nearing the Festival Of Red Moons, to most in skyrim it was a sign of the harvest. That summer was arriving, to vampires and werewolves it was a sign of greater power. During this unique lunar cycle their powers would grow exponentially and they would come from their caves to feed and packs would roam the lands and hunt together. The Order feared it's coming and rejoiced in its departure, where most Hunters called this the most dangerous time Geralt benefitted most. During this same cycle his powers also grew but so did his desire to feed. The only times he had ever come close to feeding on innocents was during this period. He had some time though, the festival wasn't till the end of the month and during that three days he often ventured into the wilds to hunt alone.

 

Sophie stayed close to Geralt as they walked through the streets of the city, they came to a large castle. The place was filled with imperial soldiers, many practicing the arts of war. They had just called for a draft so they were in the midst of training the recruits, they were doing marching drills and sword practices. On the far wall were a number of wicker arrow targets that groups of archers fired volleys into while a instructor corrected their flaws in their stances and accuracy. The swordsmen dueled with wooden swords, the men fought with bared chests. Some of these men were boys not much older then Sophie. One such boy was at most a year older then her, being twelve years of age. He had dark brown hair, dark eyes and a nice face. He caught her looking at him and she blushed and quickly looked away. He smiled and snapped to attention when his instructor called out to him.

 

Geralt lead Sophie into the Temple, as he entered a older man with grey hair approached. He smiled and bowed slightly. "Geralt, you have returned. Did you see to that nest near whiterun?" He asked, Geralt nodded and gestured to the girl with his chin. "This is the girl they took, the vampire killed her parents. Take her in the back, give her some food and a place to sleep. I'll be along in a few days to take over her training." He said calmly, the monk nodded and offered her his hand. She took it and followed him into the back of the Temple. Geralt approached the shrine of Stendarr and knelt before it, he placed a hand on the idol. As he did his skin burned and he jerked it away. Taking it as Stendarr has not yet accepted him as one of his faithful. He said a silent prayer and stood, as he did a woman wearing monks robes approached and handed him a rolled up piece of parchment.

 

He unraveled it and read the words inscribed on it.

 

"Geralt Vex, you are hearby summoned to The Blue Palace to speak with General Rikke. She seeks your knowledge on the occult and wishes you as soon as possible. If you do not appear a detachment of Imperial Soldiers will be sent to reclaim you and you will be brought to the Generals presence by force and then fined one hundred gold pieces for not appearing when summoned by your superior officer." He read to himself, Geralt laughed at this not so thinly veiled threat, he slid the piece of parchment into his rucksack and left the temple and marched across the city to the Blue Palace's gates. As he entered he had to flash his badge of authority to all the soldiers as they tried to stop him. Members of The Order that were Hunters also bore rank in the Imperial Military, equivalent to that of a Captain. The soldiers looked at the badges, stepped out of his way and saluted. He made his way to the second floor and stepped into the War Proceedings of High Marshal Tullius and his Legates, General Rikke stood next to him, Geralt particularly hated being at the beck and call of the Empire but he had no other choice in the matter. As he bullied his way past the Legates he tossed the scroll onto the table.

 

Geralt growled and spit on the scroll. "Only because The Order signed your treaty am I obliged to listen to you all. Ask your questions of me so I can depart..." He said defiantly. The Marshal stood at the far end of the round map table that detailed Skyrim, blue and red flags dotted it to denote places of interest or known troop movements. Tullius sighed and waved his hand, the Legates all departed and they left the room. Leaving Geralt with Rikke and Tullius. The General glared at Geralt, Tullius picked up a Stormcloak helmet and tossed it onto the map table and it skidded across the table and rested just a few inches from the end of the table. The Stormcloak helmet had the symbol of a wolfs paw on it, before he saw that he could smell the werewolves scent that it once belonged to.

 

The General walked around the table and stared into Geralts cold black eyes, she hated him for what he was and his defiance, he also felt the same. His eyes began to turn orange and black pupils began to form. "What do you know of Werewolves?" She asked him, the redguard woman glared into his eyes. Geralt broke eye contact to look at the helmet. "Tall, stronger then a troll and fast as a Sabre-Tooth. Changes during the Lunar Cycles and the older ones, the alphas can change at will. Silver to the heart or decapitation is required to kill them in wolf form but in their normal forms they are vulnerable to normal weapons." He said as if reciting a prayer. The General nodded and picked up the helmet. "What do you know of Nord traditions and their nature towards werewolves?" She asked him, Geralt growled to himself. "Why don't you ask one..." He said, The General went to smack him for his defiance but his vampiric reflexes were faster and he caught her wrist. His finger nails formed into talons and his fangs descended from his jaw and peeked through his lips.

 

"Don't ever strike me... Or I will remove your arm and beat you with it!" He yelled and pushed her back as he released his grip on her. Rikke reached for her sword but Tullius stopped them with a loud shout. "Halt!" He yelled, "Rikke, stay your blade..." He commanded, Rikke followed the command and stepped back. Tullius approached Geralt and looked him in the eyes, "The Stormcloaks have infected a small number of their men with Lycanthropy, they are turning them into werewolves and using them as Shock Troops. Sending them to raid our caravans in our territory and then escaping back into their own lands before we can even investigate the attack." He said, "I want you to take a small group of our soldiers and find them, we captured one of them and he died under interrogation. Now go and find the interrogator and get the details from her... her name is Selene." He said as he waved his hand to signal his dismissal. Geralt growled at the Marshal and turned away, leaving The Blue Palace. He knew of Selene and he knew where she would be.

 

He could smell her stench the moment he entered the city, she wasn't far though. He followed the road north and entered the eastern entrance of the Keep, then departed at the western entrance. She was standing at the top of the switchback style ramps that lead to the west entrance. He approached the vampire quietly, his years of training to be silent. He could hear her cold heart beat, could smell her discomfort with the sun. "Selene..." He said as he stopped a few feet from her. He wanted her to know he could sneak up on her at any time.

Edited February 1, 2013 by Macman253

[mythicdawnmaster]

The Pure-Blood was startled momentarily as Geralt voiced her name, sneaking up behind her. The average mortal would had a heart attack, but average or mortal she was not. She spun on her heel with incredible speed, of the type only purebloods could achieve, her eyes looking the man up and down. He was tall, well built and attractive. His swords bore the mark of Stendar and his hair bore the mark of premature ageing... Oh this was rich.

 

"The Half-blood?" She asked, the smell of his blood filling her nose. It had such an irresistible quality to it, it was like the finest loaf in a bakers shop, the ripest apple of the bunch, the sweetest flower in a garden of perfection... She wanted to plunge her fangs into his throat and drink every drop, but despite her nature, she had an incredible amount of self-restraint. She had heard the tales of Geralt's blood, but unlike her power-hungry cousins, she cared not for it's properties. She saw the Vampires role as one of shadow, not barbarity in the sun. They were given gifts of unsurpassed stealth, an affinity for bending the darkness to their will because it was where they thrived: In the dark. "You entered with a mortal child... saved her from some atrocity did you? I've heard the tales of your deeds for the order, impressive, The Brethren are right to abide caution. Now, what can i do for you? preferably something that doesn't involve simmering in this heat." She said, her words as though she had just stumbled upon a rotting body, when in mention of the sun.

 

Her hands were clasped infront of her, the talon-like claws that extended from her fingers drumming on her leg as her blood bubbled in the heat. She had not expected such today, but the days were becoming summer after all. Her face remained hidden beneath the veil that fell from her hat, a little V shaped thing that featured a thorny black rose for adornment, the hat covered completely the partition that ran atop her head, her raven-black hair pulled into a tight twisted updo.

Edited February 1, 2013 by mythicdawnmaster

[Macman253]

Geralt had heard of her extra curricular activities. He deeply wishes to take her head but because of her connections he was barred from doing so until he was given the command. He nodded at her question, "Indeed I am half blooded... Dhamphir is what they call me, the girl. She is a new recruit of the Order." He said, he did not care to make small talk with this creature but he accepted it. He walked passed her and leaned against the stone guard-rail. His hand grasping the silvered-steel dagger tucked into his belt.

 

"I understand a stormcloak died under your interrogation, what did you learn from him?" He asked, his dark eyes looking into hers. He read her like he was reading a cheap novel. Looking for hints of deceit, his face was cold, no emotion. His silver hair shone in the sunlight. He knew she sought to feed on him, nearly any vampire that knew of a Half-Blood did, the properties of his blood acted like Skooma to vampires, giving them a euphoric effect that all but the most powerful could resist. He sometimes used it as a weapon along with Dead Mans Blood, paralyze them and drug them so they can't remember. Great for when he had to capture and interrogate them.