Chapter 1

"I will turn my back to the coming storm, I will not lie in the grave, I will be reborn"



It was a quiet evening in Arllie’s Trade house, which was a drastic contrast to the vicious tempest outside. The Tavern didn't have many patrons that night; mainly a band of mercenaries crowded in the corner of the pub and a few individuals at the bar. The group consisted of five members. Their leader, a strong and charismatic imperial warrior, was outfitted in the finest Nordic mail. He led a Dumner named Eno, a very untrusting fellow, who had his fair share of battle and death, being a weathered scout and solider for hire. Next to him sat a redguard, who went by the name of Curtis, a fine swordsman and archer who had served in the imperial legions for quite a time. Then we have Farsown, an Altmer swordsman, who had fought in a few minor battles throughout his life, and was also a skilled acrobat. And last but not least, we have the newest addition to the group, Valen. Valen was a dark elf, one rather skilled in the powerful magic of alteration and illusion, which complemented his natural abilities in swordsmanship and stealth. He was a cunning individual, with an unquenchable thirst for power. This is his story.

---

“So, tomorrow morning we march to the bandit’s encampment” explained Curio, leader of the mercenary band. Valen eyed him with disdain. The man was a greedy and honor bound fool, a slave to idiotic traditions of battle. He was an annoyance to Valen, but he knew he had to work with him. Money was tight, and this job would net him quite a pretty penny so he could get out of Vvardenfell. Curio continued “The Guard is paying us five-thousand for this job. That leaves a thousand for each of us. Got it?”
Everyone at the table nodded.
“Excellent. We depart at dawn” said Curio, turning towards Valen. “Are you ready for this kid?” a smirk flashed across his greedy face.
Valen had a flare of hatred and distaste for this worthless incompetent fool. He hid it of course, behind a malicious grin. He needed the money, and was willing to use Curio for said purpose. He would get his cut of the bounty the local guard would reward them, and he would depart for good, never to see this land again. “I’m ready” he said.

The group met up and departed from the port town of Seyeda Neen at dawn, venturing into the swamps of the Bitter Coast Region of Vvardenfell. The camp wasn’t far, just a little under a mile away from town. The band slipped through the swampy forest for about an hour before the arrived at their intended destination, a slight rise peeking out of the horrid marsh. Valen had to endure Curio’s jargon laden talk of past adventures, including all of the “honor” he had accumulated for slaying petty criminals and heathens. Valen listened intently as if he were actually interested in the whelp’s expeditions.

Curio signaled them to come together. “Alright, Eno and Curtis, sneak around back and flank the bastards, I’ll take Farsown and Freshy here. I’ll give the signal when we move” he whispered. They all nodded and go in position, Valen falling behind Farsown and Curio.

Valen watched Eno and Curtis sneak through the brush and around the hill as he crouched in the muck with the other two mercenaries. Time ticked past. It felt like forever, though in reality only a few minutes had passed. The netch leather armor he was wearing seemed to tighten on him, though he knew it was only a tick of the mind. Then finally, after several minutes, Curio let out a bird-like squawk, signaling to Eno and Curtis it was time to move. The party immediately stood and drew their weapons, Curio brandishing a saber and a leather shield, Farsown a broad sword of steel, and Valen an impressive blade of pure silver. He then prepared himself in a way the others could not, he focused his mind and gathered his magicka. It flowed through his veins, like adrenaline for the mind, but far more powerful. He was ready for anything. Or so he thought.

The group slid up the hill, trying their best to stay silent. Very suddenly the group burst through the trees of the marsh and into the clearing, finding something they weren’t expecting.

Dozens of corpses littered the encampment. The tents and huts that the vandals had used as shelter and storage facilities had been savagely torn apart by what seemed to be some violent maelstrom of energy. The bandits were dead. All of them brutally slain. Some had arrows protruding from vital parts of their body, some were charred beyond recognition, a few were gutted like fish, and others had their throats torn and gashed open, as is some savage dog had gotten to them. The five mercenaries stood encased in sheer terror and wonderment at the edge of the encampment, unsure of what to do next.

Curio was the first to move further into the wreckage of the camp. The rest of the band joined in rather quickly, and began to sift through the ruins and bodies for any explanation of the slaughter, and for loot. “A small army musta came through here and did this… I count twenty-four bodies in all…” said Curtis as he studied the mass destruction of the bandit’s homestead.

“No” Eno replied quietly “Only one did this” he continued.

“One? How could one person do all of this” Curio questioned, waving his arms about, indicating the wreckage.

“There are not enough tracks to or from the camp for an army to move through here. Only one did this. He, or she, used the trees. I can tell by the angle of some of the shots… brilliant work…” said Eno softly; he seemed to be amazed, almost joyous about the scene of the slaughter.

Valen turned his attention away from the sadistic Dumner, and back towards the wreckage. It was unbelievable that such carnage could be caused by only a single person. He had heard stories of mages and sorcerers who wield awesome power, who could tear down an entire army with their mind, but they were only stories, he had never heard anything credible. Worry then washed over Valen, this wasn’t a story that some drunken fools were telling, this was real, it happened. But maybe Eno didn’t know what he was talking about, and it wasn’t one person? But Valen realized that what he said did make some sense, and the man was a very experienced tracker. What if it was only was person? Perhaps it wasn’t a person at all, but some fiend from the dark depths of Oblivion?

Curio began again “It’s unfathomable that a single being could do this, I just can’t believe it.” But that was the last thing he ever decided not to believe, because an arrow had pierced his throat after uttering that last syllable, killing him instantly.

Every interesting! Can't wait to see what happens next

Aha... Quite interesting... I am intrigued, please continue!

To nitpick on something there are some spelling stuff that you have forgotten or missed:
Arllie’s trade house should be Arrille’s tradehouse.
Broad sword should be broadsword.

Other than that, fantastic writing!

thanks guys i enjoy such critique. ill hopefully have then next part posted sometime tonight

The camp’s tone immediately changed. Everyone sprang into action, despite the mass amount of shock received when watching their “glorious” leader’s life being suddenly snatched away. Another arrow flew from the trees above not even a second later, striking Curtis in the briast plate, knocking him over, albeit unharmed. Curses were tossed about like their assailants’ arrows, for the group could not see him, in the tick of the trees, but they knew his general direction.

Time to save my ass, thought Valen as he conjured up a ball of flame in his hand and blasted the tree he thought the fiend was in. The gnarled tree burst into flames, brutally immolating the tree line.

The arrows ceased firing, and Valen almost gave a sigh of relief when a large black object blurred from the tree and into the clearing. He got a brief view of their attacker before he rushed into motion again. He was a large yet obviously agile brute, suited in black fitting leather armor, and a hood obscured most of his features. The fiend held a wickedly curved katana in his hand, and knew how to use it. This was undoubtedly the fiend that killed the bandits.

Eno charged the brute with his short sword posed to kill. His opponent met him head on with his katana. Their encounter lasted only a few brief seconds, the blades clashing together so fast it took time for Valen’s eyes to catch up to the result: Eno laying in a pool of his own blood.

Farsown was dumbstruck by the quickness of the brute, and delayed in his own charge. This time the fiend didn’t even bother engaging the Altmer. Valen saw a flash of silver; again needing his eyes to catch up, and saw than Farsown had the wicked katana protruding from his skull as he collapsed to the ground- the fiend had literally thrown his blade into Farsown’s head. What the hell is going on?

Curtis was finally back on his feet and quickly advancing toward the terrorizing fiend, shield up to protect himself. The odds of him surviving were almost zero, and he knew it. Yet he still decided to fight this- this monster.

The brute bounded forward, latching onto the redguard’s shield, tearing it out of Curtis’s grip and throwing it onto the ground. He took a swing at the villain’s head and missed completely- the things reflexes were almost uncharitable. Curtis’s life was ended when the brute tore open his throat with what seemed to be his teeth. This thing is a vampire, Valen quickly realized

Valen had been standing thunderstruck on the edge of the clearing, frozen in pure dread. This… thing has just eviscerated his entire team in less than 30 seconds.

It turned his attention to Valen. This is it, he thought, im going to die here in this swamp from hell.

“I y-yield” he croaked before the brute could descend apon him, throwing his silver longsword onto the ground. He would not die an “honorable death” like these other fools.

The fiend rushed him. Valen had no room to think, and just acted. Fighting this thing was absurd, and would no doubt lead to his own grisly demise, but what choice did he have? Fire sparked from his hand towards the vampire, who dodged it, as if dodging some leaf that was lazily floating towards him.

Valen had no more chances to attack the creature, it was apon him. He attempted to defend himself, holding his arms up as if to defend himself from the brute.

The fiend lashed out, grabbing ahold of his wrist and pulling him onto the ground in front of him. Valen gave out a hearty yelp of surprise as the creature sunk its fangs into his forearm, drawing a great deal of blood.

Valen tried to escape, but his efforts were in vain. The vampire pulled him up a delivered a powerful blow to his temple all in one fluid motion. Valen dropped back to the ground like a sack of bricks, quickly losing consciousness as he lay there twitching.

The last thing he recalled before totally blacking out was the vampire standing over him wearing a shadow of a grin on his face.

Vampire cattle, ey? Will be quite interesting this... And no spelling errors from a short look, although its late here and I am myself not the best in english, so that doesnt mean there arnt any.

there might be, i did it in MS word 1st, so the spell checker got most stuff. i do believe the end of the chapter was rushed, and im not satisfied lol. but that ya

You, sir know how to write a good story

Edit: I forgot to say, thoughts can be put in italics if you want. It isn't necessary, but it makes things easier to read, if you know what I mean.

why thank you sir

haha i had the thoughts in ITALICS but it didnt transfer from copy and pasting in word, and i forgot to do it again xD

Waiting for more. :hubbahubba:

you better be

sorry about the lack of content in this little bit, im rather busy. i dont even know why im bothering to post it haha


Valen was engulfed in darkness. He floated through a void of pure nothing, only obscure blackness. It was numbing, containing no feeling, no temperature, no texture, and no face. He could have been dead for all he cared or knew, but soon the darkness began to develop and evolve. It began to form into something, something cold and moist, heavy and humid. The darkness that imprisoned him began to slowly pull away. He had awakened.

Chapter 2

Valen was engulfed in darkness. He floated through a void of pure nothing, only obscure blackness. It was numbing, containing no feeling, no temperature, no texture, and no face. He could have been dead for all he cared or knew, but soon the darkness began to develop and evolve. It began to form into something, something cold and moist, heavy and humid. The darkness that imprisoned him began to slowly pull away. He had awakened.

The breaking dawn was the 1st thing he saw, and the soft, cold loam of the earth was the 1st thing he felt. Rising slowly from his ragged laying position in the earth, he realized he had been placed in a shallow grave. He was most likely presumed to be dead by the locals, but they were sadly mistaken.

Questions swirled in head as he gained his bearing and examined his surroundings. Dank, moist, green, and seemingly lifeless foliage- he was still in the marshes of Vvardenfell. But he realized quickly that he was not deep in the swamps and on that dreadful hill with that unholy fiend- he was near the coast, the town of Seyeda Neen must be close, for the main road was not far away from his current position. He needed to get moving. Being one who dealt with fear quite well, the terror of the vampire no longer griped him, he was driven man. That of course was before the vampiric fiend spoke to him.

“I was hoping you’d wake before now” said the brute lazily. “but we can’t always have what we want.”

Valen leapt in fright, and rolled onto the ground in a vain attempt to stand. He searched for a weapon, but could find none. Logic quickly kicked in and he realized there was no way he could ever fight the brute with a weapon.

“Quit rolling about on the ground like a fool and let me see your condition” demanded the vampire plainly.

Valen slowly stood turned to face the vampire, his heart beating unnaturally fast. His hood was drawn back, revealing his weathered features. The massive Imperial sported no hair on his shining head, which held a chiseled and experienced face. His dark forbidding eyes were sunken into his skull, which rested apon his lean muscular body clad in black leather armor.

Valen didn’t know what to think at the moment, and he could only croak out a modest “hello”.

“How do you feel?” He quickly asked, seeming to ignore Valen’s greeting.

Valen was becoming more confused by the second by the intently staring brute. “…I feel… odd” replied Valen, being honest. Curiosity plagued him. Who exactly was this fiend? Why does he care? Why am I still alive?

“Well of course you do.” he said as if Valen had made a remark about the weather. “How’s your head? Can you walk?”

“I-I suppose I can. What happened?” asked Valen.

“You died” the vampire replied in a bland tone.

Valen was taken aback. “Did you just say I died???”He spat in rage.

“Lesson one: don’t ask questions you already know the answer to” replied the broad shouldered man with a sneering grin growing on his face.

“Don’t [censored] with me!” the now enraged Valen shouted.

The vampire made a malicious sound which Valen assumed to be a chuckle. “I knocked you unconscious and left you in the wilderness. Villagers from the local settlement found you, as expected, and took you in. They tended to your wound.” He clarified, indicating his bandaged forearm. Valen shuddered as he remembered the filthy creatures fangs piecing his flesh, and a very bad feeling crept through his mind “You never awoke from your coma and died with a few days, and they placed you here to be buried. However, the fools did not know that you had ascended”

Ascended?! The image of the fangs piercing his forearm rapidly flashed through his mind. Valen remembered the stories he heard about the few vampires left in Tamriel, about how the dreaded disease was contracted through the bite of one of the infernal creatures. When one was infected with the disease, they died within a few days later, only to awake as an undead being. Valen had ascended. Ascended to the ranks of the undead gods know as vampires.

Valen’s face turned into a visage of horror as pure dread clouded his thoughts. He didn’t want to be there- anywhere but there. Oh why did I have to sign onto that Imperial fool’s mercenary escapade?! He thought as his world spun about him. He was a vampire. He was undead. He was a monster. A filthy blood craving monster. “W-what did you do to me?!” he shouted in slurred speech. He reached for his mouth, plunging his fingers into its depths, praying to whatever gods he could that he wouldn’t find the fangs of a monster. He violently grouped around until he found what he wasn’t looking for- unnaturally long pointed incisors in the corners of his mouth. A brick dropped into the pit of his stomach as Valen collapsed to the ground- he was going to faint. None of this could be real, he had to be crazy. “What did you do?” he wheezed. “Why?”

“What did I do? I found you to be worthy of my dark gift. And thusly I gave it to you” The vampire said, seeming to show a little more emotion in his chiseled face.

“WHY?!” spat and enraged Valen as he jumped to his feet at an uncharitable speed. “WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?!” He had recovered from shock amazingly fast.

“I know your type. And I like your type. You thirst for power. And I have given you power. You’re now twice as strong as any mortal being, your reflexes are immeasurable, and the magical abilities that dwell inside of your being have increased tenfold. You are a god compared to these mortal men. Isn’t that something you should be appreciative of?” said the vampire, taking a step closer to the furious Valen. “In fact, I think you owe me.” A grin flashed across his weathered face.

Valen abandoned all logic and reason for his life at that moment and lunged at the brute. The vampire’s reaction was too fast for Valen to see, and he found himself back on the ground.

“Lesson two: don’t be stupid” the vampire snarled “Preserve your life at all costs.”

Valen crawled back, in an attempt to escape the giant who towered over him at an easy six-foot-five. “Wha- what do you want?” asked Valen, as rage began to exit his body, the truth still slowly sinking in.

“I want you my brother” replied the vampire “to join me. I want you to become what I am, to continue to carry out my mission handed down by my master.”

Valen swam in an unrelenting sea of questions. He couldn’t think, only look up at the vampire.

“Will you join me? Will you become what I am and learn what it means to be a vampire, among other things?” He asked. His voice sounded tense.

Valen felt at ease for some reason he could not explain. He felt as though things were going to be alright. Maybe he truly had ascended as the brute put it. “That all depends-“he replied with a smirk “what exactly are you?”

The vampire smiled, and it was most defiantly a smile of pure joy. “I am a shadow.” He said. “And I am the head of an order of shadows. We are unstoppable assassins, assassins who have the raw skill and ability to kill the likes of commoners and kings alike. Our order is shrouded in the darkness from society, no one knows of us. We pull the strings of their pathetic lives; we dictate which government has power and which governments do not. Through cunning and deception, we are the real kings and emperors.” The vampire extended his hand out to the Dumner “Will you become a shadow Valen? Will you walk the path of power and darkness and achieve true understanding of the world? Will you be a shadow?”

Valen didn’t know what to say- he just looked at the vampire’s outstretched hand in disbelief. Unstoppable assassins? It sounded way to outlandish to Valen, but seemed mostly plausible so far. “What if I refuse?” He asked in a shaky voice.

“Then I will have to kill you” He said plainly with no humor at all.

Questions continued to assail his wounded psyche, but he realized none of them mattered now. This was the path to power, a power he craved. And if he declined, power would never be ascertained. Preserve your life at all costs- something the newborn vampire had lived by already. “Hehe, well then, I guess I must accept” Valen reached up and grasped the large man’s hand, and gave it a tight squeeze.

“Welcome to the Order of Darkness Valen” the vampire said in a triumphant tone as he lifted Valen up off the ground. He must have been waiting a long time for this. “I am Severus. Severus Avellan, your new master.”

---

Two figures walked side by side through the swampy forest of gnarled saplings in the early morning. One was massive in character- rippling I muscles under his lean black amour. The second was slightly smaller in height, being much leaner in his dirty and worn netch leather. One was the master, the other was the apprentice. But they were both shadows- unstoppable assassins, members of an order shrouded in darkness and secrecy. But the apprentice had much to learn at the feet of his unholy master, and he was very eager to be educated.

“Where are we going?” asked Valen curiously as they departed the site of his freshly dug grave.

“Your new home” replied Severus without slowing his pace “We call it The Sanctuary”

They did not venture for very long before they came apon the side a large slopping mountain. The mountain was one of many, for there was a range of small peaks that bordered the Bitter Coast Region of Vvardenfell. Severus led him into a small copse of rock formation at the base of the foothills. After successfully navigating through the grey moss covered rocks, they stopped at an old wooden door.

Severus turned the worn copper handle and gave a gentle shove. The door opened, revealing a dark abyss beyond. They pair stepped into the cavern, and closed the door, sealing them both into the Order of Darkness’s headquarters. Valen quickly discovered the cave was much brighter inside than he had anticipated- eventually coming to the conclusion that his supernatural eyes could pierce the darkness with ease.

“Welcome home Valen” sighed Severus before treading onward into the ominous cavern.

Valen fallowed him down the tunnel, becoming more and more curious of his new home with every step. He wondered intently of the cavern’s layout and inhabitants.

The first main room of the cave was a large circular room with a massive metal door located on left side of the chamber, and a large amount of rocks and debris laying about The portal most likely lead into a larger portion of the headquarters- this was an anti-chamber. Severus produced a large rusted key and unlocked the door and pushed it open with some effort, and continued onward.

Valen could barely contain his excitement as he stepped through the massive doorway. A immense tunnel like chamber filled with stalactites sloped up to his left, and down to his right. “Up there is the archives” Severus said, indicating the path up to the left “and down there is the main training area and our living quarters” he continued, motioning to the path down the slope, which lead into a large underground lake covered in platforms. “I’ll give you half an hour before we begin training. New clothes are ready for you in your living quarters.”

A new wave of confusion assailed Valen- there were no other students or Shadows to be seen, the cave felt very empty. “Where are the other Shadows?” asked Valen.

“There are no others” replied Severus grimly. “We are all that’s left of the order”

This piece of information left Valen dumbstruck “The only ones left??? What do you mean?”

Severus smiled “It means we are the only ones left. What else should it mean?”

Valen opened his mouth to respond but Severus silenced him with a quick and menacing motion of his hand. “Its story time.” He said with a chuckle. “A long time ago, and I mean a long time ago, the Order of Darkness used to contain many Shadows, very many indeed. But our numbers were far too great to be concealed in society. We were discovered, and we were burned out. A small group survived however, and they sought to rebuild again. None of them had learned anything from their mistakes, save one.” Severus grinned at this, while Valen listened intently “The one who understood their mistakes knew they needed to reform in some way, but did not know how. As he slept, the Deadric Princes Hircine, Malog Bal, and Bothia, visited him. They came to him in his dream world, and enlightened him on how the order should be run. With his new knowledge acquired, he slew every single shadow in their sleep and marital combat. From then on, only two shadows were allowed to exist at one time- a master, and an apprentice.”

Valen thought about it for a moment “So there are only two to conceal the order…” He glanced around the cavern again, as if to make sure Severus was not deceiving him. Once he was satisfied with the lack of life, he continued. “But how does this order continue?” asked Valen.

“Once the master has taught the apprentice all he knows, and the apprentice’s power eclipses that of the master, the apprentice must ritually kill the master in combat to prove he is capable of leading the order.” Explained Severus with a stern expression painted on his face. “This also ensures that each generation of masters is more powerful than the last”

An unforeseen shock came over Valen as he absorbed the knowledge his master had presented him. He could not imagine engaging Severus in combat- let alone kill him.

“Be warned Valen, the path to becoming a Shadow is long, hard, and painful. You will face many trials, and you will have to sacrifice… parts of yourself, Parts of your soul. Are you willing? Are you ready?” asked Severus in a gloomy tone.

“I will not be deterred master. I will do what it takes” Answered a determined Valen.

A malicious smile formed on Severus’s chiseled face “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll give you half an hour to explore your new home before we start your training” and he sealed the metal door shut.

You're talented

I like the story and I like the vampires!

And the sig.....

"Peace is a lie." Now to continue it "There is only passion, through passion I gain strength, through strength I gain power, through power I gain victory. My chains are broken"

:D

Yes, this was a good read

The intro put me off a little, the characters could have been introduced in a more interesting fashion, but I'm glad I read on because it got a lot better. Your combat scenes are great :thumbsup:

bahahahahaha some one here knows of the sith! thanks man

haha thank ya good sir the reason i didnt build them up was because they were going to die

Chapter 3

Valen first descended to the right in an attempt to locate his quarters- he hadn’t bathed in days after all. He emerged into a large circular chamber with a vaulted ceiling. To the left was a roomy fissure containing a few beds and a plethora of containers- most likely the sleeping quarters. To the right was a large roughhewn corridor that was padded down, most likely for combat training. The sight of this made Valen tense and excited- he loved swordplay. And last but not least, a large lake sat in the middle of the chamber. Wooden docks webbed across the ominously still water. High on the adjacent hall sat targets with bulls-eyes, presumably for archery practice. Valen stood in awe at his new home.

In his “room” he found a wash basin and a fitting black robes laid out for him. He proceeded to strip himself of his filthy armor and clean himself up a bit. He washed his shaggy, wire like hair until it was fully purged of all grit. After fitting himself into the robes and admiring the dark feel of them, he exited his room and ventured back up the tunnel to the archives. The archives, which were sealed behind a flimsy wooden door, held literature beyond Valen’s wildest imagination. Books on historical facts and classified details, details on how to kill opponents in combat more quickly and efficiently, and one genre that enthralled Valen more than any others: Magic.

The tomes held instructions on spells so unique it made his head spin. This collection wasn’t compiled by the normal wizards and sorcerers of the world, but the unblessed creatures of the night that made up the Order of Darkness. Vampires are after all- immortal. This allowed the vampiric magicians to hone their dark skills for several more decades- perhaps even centuries- more than the average human.

In the school of illusion, it taught how to conjure unholy nightmares that could drive the target insane, how to spawn noise that could send the victim into unconsciousness, and the ability to pry information out of any uncooperative subject. In the school of conjuration, it taught how to summon mysterious, profane demons of great power and command them to one’s bidding. In the school of Restoration, it taught how to possibly recover one from a mortal wound, and how to svck away one’s life energy- reducing them to a lifeless husk. And the most appealing of all, the school of Alteration. The tomes told of spells that allowed the caster to phase through physical objects, alter the physical state of matter (turn solid to liquid, or vice versa), and literally tear an enemy apart with waves of destructive energy.

Valen could not begin to learn the unholy secrets that hid in the books within a mere fifteen minutes, but he was determined. He would learn them in due time, for the tomes we intended for teaching new Shadows powerful magic honed my century old wizards and past masters of the order. There must have been dozens of previous masters. And I’m going to be better than them all, he thought.

Valen left the archives a determined man, and very unsure of his training to come. Severus waited for him down on the web of docks in the main chamber. He had removed his menacing leather armor and was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of pants fashioned of some type of burlap material. His abs seemed hard as a rock, and his body was built like a bear’s. Valen still didn’t know what to think of the brute who had maliciously slain his co-workers only days before.

“Ya hungry?” Severus asked gruffly as he entered the chamber.

“No, I’m fine” replied Valen. He was then struck with the reality that he hadn’t eaten within a few days, and he should be starving.

“Really?” asked Severus in an obviously fake-surprised-tone. “Well, I’ve prepared you a snack, and you’re going to eat it.” With that, he bent down and seemed to be fiddling with something floating in the water by the platform. After some examination, Valen realized it was a sort of cage. The cage seemed to be constructed of thick roots or bent wood, and encased a motionless prisoner.

Severus got the water cage opened and hauled and unconscious prisoner from the depths of his lake prison. The victim was a dripping wet Breton man with long, flowing black hair.

“Feed” he stated plainly.

Valen flashed back to the large incisors he found in mouth at the site of his profane ascension. He supposed that he knew he would have to kill to feed and stay alive- but the idea of killing and the physical action were two completely different things. A wave of uneasiness washed over him as he planned to sink his newly acquired fangs into the innocent person’s neck.

“Something wrong?” Severus questioned.

“What happens if I don’t feed?” asked Valen uneasily.

Severus snorted in distaste “The less blood you have in your system, the stronger you will become. But you will also become more savage, and you will use logical discretion less, which will result in very bad things.” He became very stern “You will eventually go feral- and die. You need to feed.”

That was enough for Valen- survival was always his top priority. He lifted the limp body off the deck and bent the Breton’s unconscious head back- exposing his neck. He felt a rush of adrenaline course threw his body along with a primal thirst- a thirst for blood. It felt as though he was being drawn in, drawn in to kill, drawn in to feed. He realized the thirst had always been with him since his ascension, but only now realized its existence.

He pursed his lips and with some work, got his fangs exposed. He savagely tore into the Breton’s neck. Flesh gave way to the still flowing blood of his artery. Valen greedily ingested the crimson liquid, tearing open more and more flesh struggling to find more pockets of the precious nectar, and accidentally spilling his victim’s blood over his jaw and elegant robes. The blood vessels in the Breton’s body quickly emptied however- leaving Valen hungering for more. But he was forced to watch as the blood sapped body drained of color and became cold to the touch- the Breton was dead.

Savage vampires are savage! Ha. Good work, keep it up. Although I thought the character development was a bit rushed, it's an enjoyable read. Perhaps more posts can change the current situations and make it a lovable read.

why thank ya! haha, the caracters are more indirectly defined

---

“Who was he?” asked Valen as the pair of vampires left the corpse and entered the padded training corridor.

“He was the man who dug your grave, no one special. I found it to be fitting…” he trailed off as he strode over to the weapons rack in the corner, pulling out two blunted, wooden katanas. He threw one to Valen, who caught with ease. “The katana is the symbolic weapon of our order.” explained Severus.

Valen held the wooden training weapon in his right hand, observing its structure and heft as he slowly cut through the air at an imaginary enemy. He was already a skilled swordsman, and had been complemented on a regular basis when he served with the imperial legions a while back.

“So I heard you are a rather skilled swordsman” humorously stated Severus, slowly circling Valen like a hawk circling its outmatched prey, a training battle seemed to be imminent.
This struck Valen with confusion. “Where did you hear that?” he asked, not denying his skill.

“While you and your party marched to the bandit’s pitiful encampment, I was in the trees, on my way back here.” Explained the vampire master “I heard all that was said, decided to follow you… call it an impulse.” He mused with a malicious grin.

By now Valen was also walking in a slow circle in sync with his master, to keep him in sight. “I still don’t understand why I was spared” responded Valen. “I was just as weak as the others.”
“You have more potential then they could ever imagine” sneered Severus “Bothia himself told me.”

The pair continued to circle each other- waiting for the forthcoming clash of training blades. “Bothia? What do Deadra have to do with me?” questioned Valen as he gripped his wooden sword.
“The Deadra have some influence on our order” Severus answered. “Molag Bal, Hircine, Melphia, and Bothia are the Deadric princes we recognize. They represent us, and we represent them” he explained. “And our friend Bothia showed you to me in my dreams. He told me you were the future”

Valen opened his mouth to speak- but was cut off by a sudden and ferocious swipe of Severus’s blade. He just barley parried his master’s surprise attack in time, a blow that would have bisected his skull if a real sword would have been used. Severus slashed and hacked at Valen relentlessly, coming in from all sides and angles, causing Valen to retreat and cower behind countless parries. He fights like a feral creature! thought Valen as he tried to observe his amazing combat form in the turmoil. He quickly realized his master’s fighting style was not only brutal and animalistic, but very precise, agile, and dexterous- it was unlike anything Valen had ever seen, or in his case, experienced.

The apprentice couldn’t hold off his master, and leapt back, trying his hardest to deflect the deadly and terrifying blows. Severus suddenly switched his angle of attack in mid-swing- the sneaky maneuver easily bypassed Valen’s defensive blade and struck him in the shoulder. The wooden shaft of the training sword made a quick Thwack! Sending tendrils of pain threw the apprentice’s body before being retracted.

Valen stumbled to the side and almost fell over from the blow- but his inhuman reflexes allowed him to stay afoot.

“You lost” stated Severus.

“Yea, I noticed” retorted Valen, almost out of breath.

“You fought well” his master complimented, showing no sign of exhaustion like his apprentice. “Where did you learn such swordsmanship?” he asked.

“In my youth, I lived in the province of Skyrim, home of the Nords.” began Valen.

“Aye, that’s an odd place for a Dumner to grow up” observed Severus as he procured an elegant bottle of wine and two goblets.

“Eh, not as odd as you’d expect” said Valen as he accept a goblet of wine from his master “quite a few Dumner live in Skyrim since the Imperial take-over of Morrowind, and my parents were supposedly one of the few refugees fled from the warzone.” He explained in-between sips of the extravagant alcohol.

“Supposedly?” questioned Severus as he casually leaned against the naturally hewn cave wall, sipping at his wine.

A cold yet amusing look flashed over Valen’s face “I never knew them- they were killed by a pack of lycans while raising me. I somehow survived, and was raised by a family of compassionate Nords.” He explained, as if doubting the credibility of the tale. “They were hardy folks, the father teaching me the basics of combat and the mother, who was the proprietor of an inn, taught me how to persuade people, and even taught me a little bit of magic” he said with a smile slowly forming on his face.

“Hmm- interesting enough” said Severus “but how did you end up here?” he asked with a curious tone.

“I joined the Imperial Legions once I was old enough- learned some survival skills and improved my swordsmanship there. Then ventured to this disgusting land for some fun and adventure, and ended up broke” explained Valen with some amusemant. “Then I signed on to that fool, Curio’s mercenary band…” finished the apprentice and he rested on the wall opposite of his master.

“You are young, and have much to learn” said Severus and he pushed off the rock wall he was leaning on “so much to learn”

“I am very eager to learn, my master” replied Valen, excitement filling his voice.

“Good” stated his master coldly “I have much to teach you in the art of swordplay. Techniques, styles, you name it, I know it. You will become the greatest swordsman in Tamriel, but for now…” Severus gripped the hilt of the training blade “…show me all of what you know about fighting with a blade” and they leapt into a frenzy of blades.

great stuff! pls keep it coming man im loving it