Prologue.

The moonlight gleaming off a pond naturally lit a small house west of Bravil.

"Come now, son, It is time for rest." A man said pleasantly to his son.

"But Father, a story before I have to! Please!" The boy said, anxious for his father's response.

"Well, I suppose I could. Sit down. I shall tell you of one of the greatest adventurers, Claudius Helsingus."

The boy sat there, wide-eyed and frozen with excitement. His father had been a bard in his younger days, so he knew how to tell a story.

"He was a vampire hunter. He hunted hundreds in the early years of the 3rd Era, with his team. They were fierce warriors, bringing swift yet painful death to those preying on mortals. They were quite renowned, working as normal mercenaries, as well. They helped King Antiochus with The War of The Isle, so long ago. As the years passed, Claudius and his men heard of a thousand year ancient, Volanare. Volanare was powerful, holding many vampires under his banner, he preyed on whole settlements in High Rock. Claudius made his way towards High Rock to confront and vanquish Volanare. They found his lair, slaying vampire after vampire as they went deeper into his vile home.

They found him, with many skeletons and corpses strewn about. They battle furiously, with Claudius' men falling in battle. He and Volanare were the only ones left by daybreak, Claudius weak and tired. Volanare had also been weakened, but could easily kill any other human. But Claudius had a blood about, that kept him fighting. Volanare even considered transforming him. They battle weakly, both with grave wounds. Claudius put all his remaining strength into a single thrust which pierced Volanare through the ribs. The sword was stuck in the wall behind him. As Claudius pulled valiantly at his sword, Volanare brought a dagger down on Claudius' neck. They both fell. Weeks later, adventures found the bodies and identified them. Claudius and his men were brought up a buried in Wayrest. Volanare body was never found, however. To this day, people believe he stalks the lands, locating and murdering anyone and..."

His voiced weakened and hesitated, shifting eyes met the floor.

"...And their families. But, it's time for bed, I think. We need to wake early tomorrow, I told we were going to Bravil for supplies." He said, sitting up from the chair. He took his son by the shoulder and led him to the stairs. They were midway up when a loud thump struck their roof, as if a whole tree branch snapped off it's trunk on it's own. His Father looked up, with a face of absolute terror. He looked to his son, who was more questioning than anything. He met his son's gaze, bringing him closer.

"Listen to me, go down to the basemant. I want you to hide behind the boxes. Do not come up until the morning, then I want you to run to Bravil, you have an uncle there. He'll help you. Go, now."

"But Father, I...aren't you coming down with..." He began to blubber.

"Now! Go!" His Father yelled. The boy complied, running to the trapdoor leading to the storage area. He hoped down into the darkness that engulfed the basemant strongly. He put his hands out to locate the boxes, not knowing what would count as 'behind' them. He heard a window crash led by faint talking. He knew his father's voice, and trembling and frightened as it was. The other was much smoother, calmer, soft a newborn lamb. They went on for minutes, that felt like hours. More thunderous pounding was heard, accompanied by grunts and low shouts. It finally stopped, ending with one last thump to the floor and a dragging sound. The boy was crying, keeping his whimpers quiet as light rain on the Niben. He cried himself to sleep.

The morning came slowly. He knew this by light blue beams of transcendent light coming through the cracks in the floor. He arose, his muscles sore from being hunched together for hours. He made his way toward the ladder, stepping and griping as quiet as he could. He opened the hatched slowly, peering out to see the blood stained floor. It had already set into the wood. He looked around, the house looks liked a burglary, but nothing was stolen. He opened the door, which had been broken outward, with a trail of blood following it. He ran to the road, with Bravil in the distance. His tears dried before they could fall in cold morning wind.

I found your description to be very well-done and am very impressed.

Well, unlike most of my stories, I actually thought this one out!

Great Job! i liked the descriptions and the story.... other than a few spelling errors i couldn't find anything wrong

Very good job, I really liked the ending. The final scentence is a memoriable quote, Very haunting too.

Probably wasn't the best thing to read before heading to bed though,

Sweet dreams, *Evil Laughter*

Chapter One: The Sweet Smell of Venison.

15 years later.

The smell of roasting venison made his mouth water. His eyes closed as he basked in the heavenly scent. He looked back down at it. It sizzled and popped like a fire at a camp. He stared luridly at it, as if he was going to eat it whole. Perhaps just one taste of the succulence that enveloped him would be enough to get him past the temptation.

Perhaps just one taste...

"Antonius! No eating the food! It's for the guests!" His uncle bellowed.

Antonius was the cook at his uncle's tavern, The Wretched Wanderer Inn. He was a good enough cook, but often ruined the food due to him being mesmerized at the food itself. Every since...that night, he's been here, acting as a reason for extra tips when he was younger, and cook when he could handle a task like that, which he barely could. But, he had a roof over his head, which acted as his pay. The night he came, he was crying and confused. He was told that it was an average robbery gone hay-wire, and that the culprit was caught and executed. After that day, Antonius had nightmares every night. But, duties to attend to, food to cook, ale to pour, and of course, dishes to wash.

"Antonius! Where is that venison?" His uncle said, dealing with a distraught guest.

"Coming up, Uncle Saenus!" Antonius replied, putting it though a small serving window. Saenus gave a hand motion to the guest who ordered, still dealing with the unsatisfied costumer. The guest came up, looked at the venison, and expressed anger.

"Innkeeper! This is burnt! What kinda place are you running?" He yelled. Saenus came over, inspecting the food. He didn't want to lose costumers because of his nephew's daydreaming.

"No, no. It's not burnt, just crispy." He tried to persuade the angry guest, who would have none of it.

"No, it's not! Go tell that incompetent 'cook' to start doing things right!" He yelled, upsetting many other guests. He stormed out slamming the door behind him. Saenus barged into the kitchen, ready to give Antonius his weekly lecture on proper meal preparation.

"Look, Saenus, I can explain." Antonius tried to convince him.

"No, this is the third time this week, you cannot keep burning food like this!" He yelled. Antonius looked down, pitying himself.

"You can't daydream like this when..." Saenus stopped talking, abruptly.

"When what?" He questioned.

"Nothing, just cook the food!" Saenus deflected.

"No, when what? Tell me!" He pressed.

Saenus sighed and looked around. He went to the back of the kitchen, staring out a window at the Niben Bay.

"After we close, meet me in my quarters, we have much to discuss."

Antonius was washing the tables after closing hours when he began to daydream. He'd wash clockwise, then counter-clockwise, clockwise again. It was like a Dwemer machine, giving one functionality and sticking to it. He finished, throwing the rag into the washing bucket. He walked up the stairs to his Uncle's quarters. Each step brought a strange feeling of dread, like he was going to walk right into a conscience nightmare. He opened the door slowly, creaking met his ears, he shivered and cringed. He saw his uncle, illuminated by the many candles lit in his room. He was sipping tea, most likely.

"I never took you for a tea man, Uncle." Antonius stated.

"Not tea, ale" Saenus corrected.

"What to need, what's this about?" Antonius questioned.

"You. Your father. Many things. Sit."

Antonius found a small stool.

"Have you heard of Claudius Helsingus?" Saenus asked.

"Yes, that was the story my father told me on that night he..." Antonius stopped, not wanting to discuss that.

"No mere story, my nephew. It was real. Everyone. Claudius, his team, Volanare. Everything happened. Claudius was killed, and Volanare escaped into the countryside. Fortunately and unfortunately, Claudius had two brothers and a son. Volanare hunted and killed them. When his wife heard what happened, she fled their home in Chorrol to Morrowind. She changed her name, and raised her son in Blacklight. He he came to age, he became a vampire hunter, had a son, then killed by Volanare. It was a cycle. Over the centuries, the bloodline made it's way back to Cyrodiil, in the form Me, your father, and you. You are related to Claudius Helsingus. The only way the Helsingus bloodline has existed is constant movement and name changes. But, he eventually finds us, and kills us. Your Father and I took a great risk staying here, and I fear it is only a matter of time before he comes for me, just as he did your father.

"Why are you telling me this? Let's close down and leave!" Antonius pleaded.

"No! Don't you understand? This cycle must be broken! Volanare must die! Fulfill the task Claudius couldn't!" Saenus said, practically demanding.

"Well, why me? Why can't we leave?" He begged for an answer.

"I have told you. Even if we did, you haven't been with a women. No son, no continuation." Saenus stated.

"What do we do?"

"I teach you the ways of combat, your father and I were both vampire hunters. You kill Volanare. So simple, and yet, such a hefty task." Saenus told him.

"Okay, you teach me combat skills. Even then, I can't do it alone, so how can I?" Antonius inquired.

"Through the help of Claudius' team. Your father and I tracked their descendants down. I shall give you a list of the names and locations. After the training. For now, get rest. We must train hard and quickly. Volanare could be here any day." Saenus concluded.

"This is so much to take in," Antonius said, getting out the chair and walking to the door, "At least I won't need to cook anymore. He said to himslef.

"Oh no, you'll still cook, at night, and train all day." Saenus said, a devious smile on his wrinkled, weathered face.

I like the dwemer device

Is that it? No complaints, compliments?

Oh oops! Forgot the juicy stuff. I found your use of word-smithing to be very well done