OOC: My attempt on a vampire related fanfic, based on two vampire characters I made long ago. Both pureblood vampire characters were born into the Cyrodiilic bloodline, so they are taught how to master what they can, deception, manipulation, politics and vampire vs vampire actions is something they are born to do and experience. So, here you go.

Core Characters:

http://i55.tinypic.com/auk3k2.jpg Female Imperial. Pureborn Cyrodilic vampire growing up in society.

http://i41.tinypic.com/2r53iow.jpg: Male Imperial. Pureblood Cyrodilian vampire learning the ways of the Warrior and what it means to be a vampire and a nobleman.

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~Prologue~

3E 126, Cyrodiil
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If am not human, what am I?
The fog was cold and damp, and an icy wind blew through the shadow-cloaked forest, but Raven barely noticed the chill. Autumn trees, bare and skeletal, clawed at her as she ran frantically through the woods outside her home. Her heart pounded so loudly she felt certain it would burst. Glancing back over her shoulder, she a glimpsed vague, indistinct figure moving through the mist behind her. The moons shone through the barren tree branches overhead. Storm clouds drifted across the moons like a veil. Heartrending screams ripped through her mind, sending fresh jolts of fear and anguish through the young girl's soul. Her dark black hair streamed wildly behind her. Panic filled her wide red eyes. A thin linen nightgown provided scant protection from the cold. Spilled blood streaked her gown, glistening wetly in the moonlight. The sticky red fluid had soaked through the fabric, causing the linen to cling to her skin. Bare feet raced over a carpet of fallen leaves. Thunder boomed above her. A jagged bolt of lightning sliced the sky in twain. Rain poured down in sheets, drenching Raven. The forest floor turned to mud beneath her feet. Muck oozed between her toes and she had to fight to keep her balance on the slippery leaves. If she fell, her pursuers would be on her in an instant. Chances were, she would never rise again.

What have I done? she wondered. What am I?

The blood upon her gown was not her own, but it could not have been any more precious to her before she had gushed from the severed throats of the slaves. She had left the butchered bodies of her nearest and dearest strewn upon the wooden floor of her bloody home when she had fled madly into the night. The slave quarters were fairly empty, she would have to make her way there to be safe. What she had done is punishable only by death. Her father is looking for her, she remembered his expression of shock and disgust as his own daughter fed on her friends in her own room. He realized I am a monster, Raven thought. The hunger was still there, unquenchable it seemed. It burned like a fire and it had to be fed accordingly. But she couldn't do it again, she couldn't kill another person again. She had to hide. Raven entered the slave quarter owned by her family. Breathing hard, she turned away from the door. Water streamed from her hair and gown. The dank air reeked of wet hay, dirt, sweat, and blood. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darker gloom of the sealed house, and she staggered forward uncertainly. Her blood frenzy was just the start, it caused her to look back and forth frantically, as if she had done something wrong. She wasn't like a skooma addict, she was a blood thirsty vampire! But she never remembered ever being bitten by a vampire. Although she had heard legends of vampires that can visit someone while they slumber to feed on them unaware.

Mordan, the slave from Hammerfell, was awakened by a loud noise and a sobbing cry in his quarters. He grabbed hold of his pitch-fork and jumped up from bed to see what was happening. He came to see that the master's daughter was wet and full of blood on her clothes. But no wounds where on her body. His eyes widened as he approached her with caution.

"By the Nine, my lady, what happened?" The gentle redguard asked as he approached Raven with an ever so careful display. Not only was he ignorant of the situation, he was also not so sure of touching the Master's daughter without raising a problem. He froze as he saw blood all over her mouth. Before he had a chance to react, she was upon him.

An overriding instinct overcame all her thoughts -- hunger. Without even thinking about what she was doing, Raven reached out and tore open Mordan's throat and began drinking. Another flash of lightning pierced the darkness, revealing a supine figure lying motionless upon the hay-strewn floor between the tables. The sprawled body was as still and silent as the grave. No! Not again Raven thought. An icy certainty spread through her veins, and she felt her last vestige of hope succumb to despair. She stumbled toward the lifeless form, already knowing what she did. Her red eyes brimmed with surprise.

"Mordan..." She whispered to herself sorrowfully, feeling the fresh nectar of blood on her lips, dripping to the floor.

The face of the corpse was contorted with fear, but Raven could not fail to recognize the kindly, bearded visage that had so often looked upon her with warmth and affection. The slave's throat had been torn open, seemed as though by a rabid animal was responsible. Bright red blood was splattered all over him, just as it had been on the savaged bodies back at her house. Glassy eyes stared blankly into oblivion. Her loved ones were dead--and if she kept this up, her family would die as well.

Why me? she thought in agony. What did I ever do to deserve this? She dropped to her knees beside the body, heedless of the blood spreading out from beneath the slave's corpse. They were good people. Decent people. A deafening crash jolted her from her grief. She spun around toward the wooden door, which shivered beneath the force of powerful blows. A battering ram? she thought in confusion as the oak door was smashed to splinters. It crashed to the floor with a resounding thud that echoed loudly throughout the quarters. Raven turned away from the door, back toward the dead body. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. What am I?

"Raven?" Called out a male voice that she unmistakably recognized as her father's. She smelled him. He came alone. He doesn't want my mother to see what else I have done, Raven speculated. She lowered her head, hearing her father's footsteps coming in closer and closer. On instinct, Raven ran away from the body, her bare feett carrying her as fast as she could run.


****

Eventually, she came to find a small cemetery. No one was around at this time, they were safe from danger...From me, Raven thought. She approached the small chapel warily. Tradition held that even a murderer could find sanctuary on holy ground, yet Raven rather doubted that the Church’s mercy extended to vampires. As she approached the wide stone steps leading up to the church, however, she saw at once that something was amiss. The great oak doors guarding the entrance lay in pieces on the floor of the vestibule. Broken hinges dangled where once the doors had been affixed to the archway. Deep gouges showed in the splintered wood of the door, the solid oak scarred by jagged claw marks.


Rats scurried away as she passed through the vestibule into the vaulted chapel of the abbey. Evidence of rain and abandonment presented itself wherever she gazed. Dark brown bloodstains discolored the tiled floor of the church, which smelled of dried blood and urine. The lectern lay on its side before a desecrated altar. The torn pages of shredded hymnals littered the floor and pews, along with overturned collection plates and reliquaries. Dust and cobwebs testified to weeks, if not months, of neglect. A bloody shoe-print stamped on the floor of the sanctuary, made Raven wonder what had transpired. The grotesque enviornment did not frighten Rave, she would soon fear herself.

To her relief, she found an arched doorway at the far end of the southern transept. Beyond the open portal, granite steps led down into darkness. Raven gratefully descended the spiral stairs, leaving the light of the night behind. Cobwebs clung to her face and clothing as she pushed her way through a dense accumulation of webbing. Rats and cockroaches skittered at the periphery of her vision. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairwell, the utter blackness challenged even her nocturnal senses. She trod carefully, navigating by smell and sound as much as sight, down a musty tunnel that smelled of damp and decay. Her elbow brushed against a niche in the wall, dislodging a pile of dusty bones that clattered noisily onto the floor. A skull rolled against her feet before coming to rest behind him. Raven isolated herself on a murky corner, the fresh warm blood still sweet in her lips. She cried herself to sleep, hoping it would end soon.

Footsteps trod heavily on the blood-soaked floor of the Chapel. Raven heard the footsteps approach her at a measured pace. She expected to be killed, to be called a monster. She braced herself for death, she gladly accepted whatever fate brought her. Instead a steady hand fell firmly yet gently upon her shoulder. She held her breath, expecting the hand to move to hurt her, but it remained where it was, as though to comfort her. Puzzled, she opened her eyes and looked behind her. The hand belonged to a well-known nobleman. He wore a long robe-like extravagant outfit, Black & Burgundy that was overly large and extended past his arms. The mud-covered gold trimmed shoes covered his feet but could not conceal her father's almost palpable aura of strength and authority. A massive broadsword, so large that it seemed a marvel that any mortal man could lift it, hung at his side. Compassion shone in his luminous crimson eyes. He had followed her all the way there. Armannus resembled a man in his early fifties. Pale brown hair, streaked with gray, hung past his shoulders.
Armannus reached down and gently helped her to her feet. Her legs were unsteady, and she would have fallen, save that he took her in his arms. She rested her weight against his, unable to run or fight back any longer. His strong arms held her up and she surrendered to his sheltering embrace. For the first time since this nightmare had begun, she felt safe and protected. "All is well, my child," he said. "I am here. You are safe. I am safe"

Gently stroking Raven's wet hair, he grabbed her chin to bring her face to gaze at his. But she pulled away, shaking her head in dismay. Backing away slowly, she dashed out of sight. Her father desperately cried to her, but she heard none of it.

"No. No. Get away from me! I'm sorry" Raven shouted as she fled from the empty room, leaving her father behind. Four people were murdered by her bloodlust and she was not ready to add a fifth. It has to end. But as she escaped through the old chapel, she realized she had slept the night away and daylight was coming. She was young, but by old popular lore held that vampires had inherited weakness to the sun, it meant sudden death to any of them caught in its harmful rays. She had to end this, it was the only way she could be at peace.

The morning sun began to glide over the land, shafts of daylight slowly penetrating the breach in the chapel. Raven heard footsteps upon the stairs and knew it had to be her father. As far as she knew, he was the only person alive in the chapel. He emerged from an archway and stepped out onto the floor behind her. Frozen in place, almost afraid to move, she stared in wonder at the sight of her own hand lying directly in a sunbeam, completely unharmed. The morning’s radiance warmed her chilled flesh, nothing more.

"Raven!" he said softly. Awe filled his voice.

She turned toward him slowly, her red eyes filled with emotion. Holding her breath, she stepped entirely into the sunlight, exposing her entire body to the golden rays. Nothing happened. She was completely immune.

"What am I?" Raven asked mainly to herself. She did not turn to ash like a vampire. Her was present and slowly walked to meet his daughter his daughter--wasn't he afraid of her murderous blood orgy? How she had ripped the throats of those near to her?

A gentle smile came upon his face, the snicker of a father and...something else. There was something he was not telling her. But what he said would make sense for years...if not centuries to come.

"You are blessed" Armannus said as he embraced his daughter in a hard and cold hug.

I wont make any observations on lore or your perception of vampires, as I follow my own lore on vampires and abide by it strictly, but I will say this: If you have a back story and lore of your own, incorporate it into the story dont give it all upfront -- if i have all the information available at once I wont be encouraged to come back to learn more. As for presentation, try to break your paragraphs up a little more and try to put more between speach to keep it away from a scripted look.

Thanks! I will make note of that.

Chapter One: Family Feuds


A year had passed since that night of Raven's brutal murders against the slaves owned by her father, year since she had embraced her new role in life as a vampire. Raven was never infected, never bitten, she was born a vampire; Her very existence was beyond normal even for the Damned. Those slaves she killed were victims of an unfortunate fate, they were purchased only to be slain, to be kept as cattle for a family of vampires. Raven's entire life before her transformation was of studies and alienation. She knew almost no one aside from the slaves and her own family. Only now did she realize why; As puberty struck her body naturally, vampirism had also increased and blossomed, resulting in the sudden bloodlust for mortal flesh that particular moment. They were simply waiting for the change, it was essential to her development that she formed attachments to no one.

The Mansion was a testament to the success of the Vladmir family. For centuries, it had been a beacon of wealth and power to both mortals and immortals alike. Armannus Vladmir and Vilena had worked hard for their accomplishments within the Empire, they had endured laboring schemes and plots to improve their lifestyle and to better prepare their children into the world. Thanks to the bond with Clavicus, they were able to mingle with the crowds, interact with those who possessed information, and forge relationships with valuable political allies. They no longer had to remain hidden, for now they were able to conceal their true selves behind an assumed identity. To this end, they had purchased th large estate a few miles outside of the Imperial City. Their estate was close enough to the city to give them easy access to everything the Empire had to offer, yet isolated enough to allow the children to continue their lessons in the ways of the vampyre. Stagnation and complacency were the seeds that would lead to the ultimate destruction of any enemy; as the leader of his house, Armannus had to be vigilant against allowing his own family to fall into the same trap. It was necessary not just to train his children, but also to continue to increase his own skills and knowledge.

Moving silently, she slipped from the bedchamber out into the hallways of the mansion she called home. Luminous tapestries covered the walls and colorful, hand-woven rugs lined the corridors as she made her way past room after room, each decorated with custom-made furniture, rare objets d'art, and other unmistakable signs of wealth. It took her almost a full minute to traverse the length of the building and reach the door that led to the stairs below. Her cold hands slowly slid along the armrest on the stairs as she descended to meet her parents. In the spacious dining area, the door of the great hall swung open, and a vision of surpassing loveliness came walking out into the dining room. Shimmering black hair tumbled down onto her shoulders like the darkness she always loved. Ruby eyes gazed from a snow-white face that surely rivaled the greatest beauties of myth and history. A crest-shaped pendant, centered around a polished crimson gemstone, dangled from a chain around her swanlike throat. The precious ornament bounced atop the ivory slopes of her bosom as she walked across the torchlit halls, adding herself to the dining immortals; Her mother and brother were present. Vilena was the first to capture Raven's attention, her beautiful mother was clad in all her finery, wearing an elegant gown of the darkest silk and velvet. Her dark brown hair resting at shoulder's length, a wide smile came across her face as Raven took a seat across her brother, Draken.

A cascade of smooth black hair crowned the head of the Armannus's notoriously decadent heir. His pink complexion, quite literally flushed with blood, bespoke years, if not a decade, of overindulgence. The sleeves of his plum-colored brocade tunic were fashionably slit, the better to display the expensive silk shirt underneath. His light purple hose was tucked into a pair of polished black boots. Sapphire and emerald rings glittered on his fingers.

Draken stared down Raven with much hostility. Hr brother's blasé attitude insulted her. Although she will know Draken for many centuries to come, she knew him ever since they were both children, she had never liked him. Even as a toddler, he had cared for nothing except his own selfish desires. Often at time's they both stabbed at each other's throats with verbal fencing, so often that it worried both parents.

"Ah, Raven. I am so glad of you to have joined us for once" Said the loving voice of Vilena.

"I had been rather occupied," Raven said, preparing her silver ware, she did not need to explain to her mother that she was reading her books in her chambers.

Draken regarded his sister without enthusiasm. “I should have known you would be the last to arrive,”

"Ah? I did not realize you missed my presence. Good to know I have a loving brother such as yourself. My oh my, what would I do without you?" Raven's sarcastic tone struck Draken with an impact.

"I felt no such mawkish mortal regard for you," Draken spat.

"So what? I would rather die first than to have you feel something for me" Raven remarked wih equal disdain.

Draken arched an indolent eyebrow. “How terribly traditional of you. Small wonder the mortals insist on describing us as walking corpses.”

"Perhaps I would prove them correct by starting with you" Raven hissed.

"Bloodsponge” Draken insulted.

“Bugaboo!” Raven threw back a taunt.

“Blood-snorter” He slammed his fist onto the table, causing pitchers and cups to bounce wildly, nearly staining the table with blood.

“Leech!” Raven barked.

"Enough. Both of you" Vilena concluded the immature argument with aggression. Obviously, she was aggravated at the pointless bickering of her two vampire children.

"Better not spare that rod, my mother. You'll spoil me" Draken rebelliously adressed his mother. Aside from her, Armannus was also umbrageous at the sibling rivalry, but she knew well that Draken often began the quarrels.

"Draken!" He turned to see his father stalking out of the living area, eyes beaming with anger. A dark wool shirt over his chest, he wore velvet pants and gold trimmed shoes tha covered his pale feet. "You will learn your place,” Armannus said sternly. His voice softened as he strove to reason with his son. He came into the room after some other buisness in the slave quarters. Armannuse's disappointment with his wastrel son was common knowledge throughout the echelon cicles of nobles and aristocrats.

"Forgive me, father," Draken said softly, his eyes taking a peek at Raven's noticable smirk. She was enjoying this.

“Do not get angry at Draken, father. He simply needs a desperate lesson in manners" Raven said, her voice fairly dripping with sarcasm.

Armannus chose to ignore his other offspring's impudent tone. “Go to your studies after you are finished eating" he decreed. “Both of you.”

Raven descended on her food, her tongue tracing the smooth contours of her fangs. Although the vampires could live on blood alone, few were willing to deny themselves the epicurean pleasures of feasting on mortal food as well. They ate for the taste and sensation of doing so, rather than to sustain themselves. Eternity was too long a span not to require a bit of variety now and then. Raven began savoring bites of roasted boar, beef, and bloodied venison, along with exotically seasoned stews, tarts, and puddings. She had particularly enjoyed what she had tasted of a pastry packed with dates, herbs, ginger, and eggs. Her delicate table manners were quite unlike the slovenly habits of other sloppy individuals. She did not gnaw savagely on the bones of her entrees or wipe greasy hands upon her clothing. Instead, she neatly picked apart her meal with her fingers and knife, making little or no mess at all.

“The slaves have been drained dry,” Armannus reminded Draken, clearly vexed by his offspring’s cavalier attitude. Vilena, too, was offended by his conspicuous lack of concern for anything. "Another shipment will be delivered"

"How unfortunate" Draken conceded.

"Draken,” he barked at his wayward son. “Make yourself useful for once and assist me on this small errand."

"What sort of errand?"

"You will go to the Waterfront District in the Imperial City and place an order for more. You have done it before and you did not dissapoint. Time does not permit me to go there myself, so you will have to do this for me"

“As you say, Father,” Draken assented, sighing heavily.

Draken ate the boar flesh with a more lustful dissection, a playful pick-apart of meat from bone, of blood squeezed from it's tissue. He did not even bother placing his dish away for cleaning as he hurried out of the dining area with graceful speed. Raven felt a twinge of sympathy for the frustrated brother; unlike any mortal heir, Draken could not look forward to ever inheriting his father’s exalted position in the clan of vampires and the mortal hierarchy. Armannus was immortal, after all, and nothing could ever disguise that inconvenient fact. Small wonder, she reflected, that Draken wastes his nights in midless killng of feral vampires and revelry with women. He’s heir to a legacy that shall never be his. Armannus did not bother taking a bite off of his plate that was prepared for him by his wife. He awaited Raven's slow chewing to cease before he had a request to make of her.

"Your brother is troubled." Said Armannus "You both need to find a way to put an end to your petty struggles"

Raven sighed, shaking her head slightly "I do not bear the patience of tolerating Draken's meandering drivel."

“It may not be so bad as you fear. Perhaps your gentle persuasion can curb his more… excessive tendencies."

"May I inquire as to why I need to do such thing?"

"You are my favorie child, Raven. You will make a fine leader in the near future and I admire you for that. I love your brother as well, but he needs to undersand that his precarious outlook on our way of life is well past beyond it's limits. If you can convince him otherwise, feed him your knowledge and inspire him, then perhaps he can make me proud as well. Your ascension in life is not simply to please me, but rather to sharpen your destiny" Armannus said.

****
Armannus introduced the world of politics to Draken, although being negative about it, he held his tongue. He had not been unmoved by his father's spontenous display of emotion; despite their frequent quarrels, he never doubted that his father cared for him profoundly. And yet this talk of politics and duty bored him to tears. World intruiges and diplomatic maneuvers held no attraction to him. Where was the life? the passion? In such bloodless games. The prospect of wasting his precious immortality thus filled his soul with dread. He'd sooner be trapped in Oblivion to be chased by dozens of dark creatures than suffer through another interminable lesson, unlike a certain sister.

Raven, whom always enjoyed it and always wanted Draken to suffer by participating in such torture. While she himself had been able to cope with this lifestyle. It was no wonder his father and mother often mentioned her to he other nobles and bragged about her intelligence; She had embraced their lessons and had shown an incredible affinity for vampirism as well as bureaucracy. Raven is younger by about two years. They have little appreciation of one another. Even though she is the younger sibling, Raven has always lied to Draken and take pleasure in torturing him verbally for her own amusemant. Draken often expresses resentment towards her, he knows she is the favorite sibling. Even as a young child, Raven displayed a duplicitous and cunning streak, as she manipulated her mother to get her way all the time and often pinned the blame on Draken when she did something wrong. It's only a matter of time before shes actually giving commands to Draken. It made him angry, this love-hate relationship with his sister often gets unstable. It won't be long until father tries to use her to change his behavior, he can well expect it.

Chapter Two: The Ways Of The Order




****

Raven was often succesful in her studies, in her training in marksmanship, her skills in Martial Arts and melee combat under proficient tutors and instructors, expensive teachers and trainers. Raven and her brother endured training with the blade as well as more covert lessons in politics and the Empire. Ever since she was eleven, she strived for perfection and greatness. To be the apple in her father's eye, to be the best and the smartest. She wanted nothing more than to please her parents with all of her brightness. But now, recently, everthing went from bad to worse. It was obvious something was wrong, but she couldn’t say exactly what. She no longer felt sharp. She no longer felt alive. When she had first become conscious of vampirism flowing through her, her senses had become hyperaware: the world had seemed more vibrant and more real. Now everything was muted and distant. She walked through the halls of her home as if she was in some kind of trance. She wasn’t sleeping well; she kept having nightmares. Sometimes she dreamed of her father and mother on a barn, their rotting corpses grabbing hold of her. Other times she dreamed of a large banquet set before her with all the succulent meat she could eat, only to begin vomiting it out as larvae ate their way from the inside of her stomach. And each time Raven would wake choking back a scream, shivering even though her body was bathed in sweat. But it was more than just lack of sleep that left her in a dazed stupor. The passion that had driven her earlier was gone. The raging fire inside her had vanished, replaced by a cold emptiness. And without her passion, she had no reason to live. The changes were subtle, barely noticeable at first. But over time small changes built up. Now she was more aggressive. She was slow and clumsy with the blades training. She couldn’t deny it any longer: she was regressing. She only had little time to learn more, as her mother was far too busy with the politics in the Imperial City and her father busy with buying lands and meeting with tax negotiators and aristocrats--it was time she invested in the future and begin her own plans. Time to study, Raven thought.

Raven gracefully entered the library of her home, the vast information kept within the chamber was unbelievable. It had the history of the Empire and the provinces, of great men and women of times long past. The attempts of the Legion to locate and confiscate anything that could be linked to the vampire had only succeeded in driving up the prices and forcing collectors to work through middle-beings to preserve their anonymity. This suited her father perfectly. He had been able to assemble and expand his library without fear of drawing attention to himself: he was just another vampire fetishist, another anonymous collector obsessed with the dark gift, willing to spend a small fortune to possess banned manuscripts and artifacts from the Tribunal on Morrowind. For the past two months, ever since she discovered her true nature, the power-obsessed Raven had ended her daily martial training with a visit to the library to ponder the mystery of the Order. Cross-referencing the manuscript before her with the vast wealth of knowledge scattered across a thousand other volumes in the collection, she had struggled to assemble the pieces of the puzzle, only to fail time and time again. He main interest was their failures and their successes, so she can learn from them to further her agenda and avoid failure of her own. She sighed loudly and snatched the Manifesto Cyrodiil Vampyrum from the shelf, opening the first page wide, she began reading it out loud. It was like a bible to her.

"Know first that we are no simple tribe of savages, tearing throats with the orgiastic abandon of our scattered, tribal brethren. Ours is a civil fraternity, to which we are bound - every one - by our dual hunger for flesh and influence. By the virtue of Imperial structure and bureaucracy, Cyrodiil has become our stronghold in the third era, and we suffer no savage rivals within our boundries, reveal ourselves to none, and manipulate the hand of society to mete out our agendas" Raven said with glee. She was so obsessed with the laws, that she did not hear her father come in the room to greet her. His loud voice broke her concentration.

"The tenets of the Manifesto are more than just words to be memorized. They are essential to the development of those who seek it's truth. Strength alone cannot bring down an enemy, it's merely a tool for an end." Armannus explained to his daughter--his hands clenched behind his back as he slowly walked up behind her.

Raven was too young to even think of ruling from her own office of power. While she was still under her father’s house, she had to obey his every law, that was until she broke free from it and ran things herself. But that would be a long way from now. She still had many years to study and to learn how things worked. But only now was she grasping her own potential, she knew few facts of both their own history and the history of mortals. For one thing that was important was the way of life and how to simply exploit weaknesses. The best history of her clan, that she had been able to muster, came from a small collection of sources, chosen for their relative reliability and trustworthiness. When she considered how Order culture is spread, and how secretive they tend to be both as a society and as individuals, the true magnitude of the challenge of assembling a history of the clan comes into view, like a mountain suddenly revealed through breaking fog. Beyond that crag is the past, hidden by lies, mistakes, omissions, and speculation, some malicious and some fielded for their own good. To navigate the precipitous terrain, they needed maps to show them where the trails and mountain passes can be found -- but not all the directions offered to them are accurate, and not all of them even intend to be.

"First, let it be clear that no one origin seems absolute. Words don’t descend like animals, they wonder around, aging and changing their appearance and personality, forever. Words describe an idea, which like some shadowy cryptid, can be known only through its descriptions."

Armannus continued his lesson to his daughter. Who listened intently to what he had to say. She was going to part of a covert organization of vampires who's sole purpose was to gain power through deception and manipulation. For many days, she studied these things and understood them with each passing moment. Most of what had been acquired was of little use: amulets or other trinkets of negligible power; secondhand copies of histories she had memorized long ago during her studies prior to her vampirism, incomplete works written in indecipherable, long-dead languages. But on occasion she had been lucky enough to come across a treasure of real value.

"Begin reading again" Instructed Armannus--he took a seat right across where Raven was seated. His eyes staring straight at Raven, eyeing her as she continued reading the Manifesto.

"On Our Dual Patrons: To Kin-father Molag Bal, who brought forth the Bloodmatron Lamae to spite Arkay, we owe our existence, as do all vampires, though not all honor Him. For him we revel in the feast, and acknowledge the gift adrift in our veins. To patron Clavicus Vile, beacon oer our affairs, we owe our successes and social stature. Our bond with Vile makes us unique among our kind, for his guidance steels our savage craving with reason and savvy. For him we live amidst mankind, and twist them to our will from offices of power." Raven finished the sentance, she awaited her father's proper response.

"We must never allow our patrons to fall into disregard. We ar blessed by Molag Bal and guided by the power of Clavicus Vile. For him, our tribe is unique. You owe your life to him, if not for the bond made, you would be naught but ash that moment the sun struck your skin. As you fed, you developed a temporary immunity to the bane of our existance--proceed" He said, his voice stern and firm--He kept both of his hands over the desk, his finger's bedecked with rings of saphire and gold.

"On Our Rivals: Most barbaric tribes think themselves powerful by the gift of Bals blood alone, and squander the gift. There are those, however,who show signs of enlightenments, and earn our attention - those such as Glenmoril Wyrd, who live within the walls of Breton cities, or the Whet-Fang sodality of Black Marsh, who use magicka to keep captives catatonic and harvest from them the red nectar. These foes may one day threaten to impugn our sovereignty within the boundries of Cyrodiil, thus compelling our vigilance. Should and enroach upon our dominion, our wrath must be swift and total."

"Family is the proper way, you see It is the proper direction of the Blood. It’s an expression. An expression of taste and distaste, an exultation of shared ideals. It’s how we do it in the broader clan, or at least how it should be done. Some give into the Thirst and are not the masters of it, and they do create families so much as cadres, cults, herds of monsters. By its very nature vampirism invites rivalry and strife. This is the greatest strength the Order: it purges the weak from our border. Yet this can also be our greatest weakness. The strong must be careful lest they be overwhelmed by the schemes of those working beneath in concert. In many cases, rival vampires clans. Over the centuries we have ousted all other competitors, but it would be foolish to say that it will remain that way. Please, continue"

"On Our Conduct: To preserve our ideals and way of life, two primary edicts shall be observed. Above all, reveal thyself and our Order to no other, for discretion is the greatest of our virtues. Do not feed where you may be found out, or on those who may not suspect your passing. Avoid daylight by lifestyle; dispel common belief in our kind, and maintain supple appearance through satisfaction of the thirst. Second, devote your pursuits to the procurement of influence, political and otherwise. Our strength is not in physical numbers, but in skillful manipulation of society. Always be mindful of our Patrons, and preserve the Order. Devote yourself to these ideals always, and the Order shall count you amongst our own." Raven smiled--she was starting to enjoy where the lesson was going. A new expression was upon Raven: a guarded curiosity. Slowly she nodded as the meaning of his words became more clear.

"Secrecy. Cunning. Patience. These are our weapons against society and other vampires. We can walk in the day, but our lives must be behind the curtains and under the shadows. Our livelihood depends greatly in our ability to blend in and our discretion, that is why we must feed to maintain our human apperance. To make use of the pawns, we must make ourselves like them"

"Pawns?" Asked Raven.

"Tools to further our agendas; pathetic servants; lowly creatures without ambition or rights; minions without hope of advancement; anyone can be abused without consequence."

The young Raven felt a surge of pride well up within her. She was understood it all now. The reason her father utilized slaves was due to the fact that he had to feed. She recalled deep inside her mind--memories of her father always going out at night to the slave pens with her mother, and pretty soon after, her brother. The servants were cattle. Feeding outside was not encouraged for her and Draken. Armannus did not trust them enough to feed outside of boundaries.

"I understand, father. But where do I begin? How do I start with my ambitions?"

"You begin on the quest for power by first gaining control over yourself. Then an individual, then a group, a group of individuals. You can do anything if you set your mind to it and before you know it, you will be among the circles of those who control the world."

"And what can prevent an individual from controlling me?" She asked.

"Encounter someone quicker and you will not be able to dodge the blade at your back. Encounter a person with more patience and you cannot block the knife at your throat. Come across a successor and you will inevitably be succeeded. You must always be quicker. Have more equanimity and you shall never risk being defeated"

Raven nodded, placing everything she heard on her notes and papers. History books and old novels were also cluttred on the desk on where she wrote. But they were useless if she did not learn the cardinal rules of a Cyrodilic vampire; Control & domination. But she had to think of the threats to her power or the power of the Order--And the only true threat besides mortals were other vampires.

"The Province of Morrowind has three Bloodlines: The Quarra, the Aundae & the Berne. Iliac Bay alone holds nine clans. Valenwood harbors four. What can hold them from entering our territory and starting a war?"

"Nothing; Save Us"

"I do not understand," Raven insisted "What if they join forces?"

"There are few members of the Order within the Empire's political station. Even fewer in the High Council. The ones in High Command sends information to those in lesser stations. If anything interferes with our way of life, one takes the responsibility of taking care of that nuisance. We cannot draw attention to ourselves if we gather in numbers unless absolutely nescessary. The Elder Council has power that excedes any other, sometimes even the Emperor. If something like that may happen, we can take care of it before it grows to be an infestation"

"And if someone within our clan does not agree with our way of life? What becomes of them?" Raven's curiosity showed.

"We remove such person from existence" Armannus explained.

The more Raven learned, the more she wanted knowledge, she did not rest, not even for a single day. She had become obsessed with tapping all the knowledge in the history books and the Manifesto Cyrodiil Vampyrum, drinking in the words with the same single-minded determination; Gaining power and understanding both in body and mind to finally make a name for herself in the world. Many months ago, she was often placed under care and the watchful eye of her superiors when it came to feeding. She could only feed on the slaves in the slave quarters. It wouldn't be a waste since her father had contacts within the Waterfront District, who are able to ship in slaves from the other provinces into Cyrodiil. But for Raven know to live on her own, she must learn to also hunt on her own.

"That is enough for tonight. Go find your brother and accompany him to the Waterfront" Armannus concluded his brief teachings with his daughter. Everyday she was taught under him--for three hours or more, Raven was learning th ways of the Order before she can fully be considered one of their own. Just because one is blessed by the Cyrodilian blood of vampires does not mean they are members of the Tribe. Armannus wanted to see his children be honored and respected by the Undead and loved by the living.




****

My apologies for the late response to your request for a review, I was rather tied up at the time and did not have a chance to check the forums. However, I have read and formed a critique for your story- at least the prologue- which hopefully shall not disappoint. If you do not mind, I prefer annotation for this type of review, so I shall be addressing both your smaller syntax errors and your larger stylistic problems. Please note that the latter are entirely based upon my own amateur opinion of writing, and should be taken as you will, and always with a considerable amount of salt. Thank you.

Small errors, mostly typos, I have corrected and bolded; use them as you will.



A very description-heavy, fast paced opening paragraph; it creates a good deal of suspense and mystery, which is good, but it seems a tad overwhelming in its pace and jumpiness (if I may call it that). I must agree with Solidor in the respect that if you were to slow it down a tad and separate the description. As it is the reader almost gets lost in all the description; you flit from one bit of information to the next, with no logical segway in between. The reader is trying to visualize the scene, but all they get are brief flashes of a larger picture. You almost need to read the whole thing and then go back to fully comprehend what is happening.

Just split it up a bit, use a few more transitions to flow from one area of description to the next. Start with the setting, finish describing that first, then go into detail with Raven. You can mention the girl running through the woods, but finish one description before starting another. When I write my first paragraph, I usually start with a overall summary of what's going on- "The frightened girl ran through the dark forest, her pursuers close behind." Then I move into describing the setting in greater detail. After that I transition into the character by showing how they are interacting with the setting. Once the audience has a good idea of both the setting and character, I move into the action of the story.

I like how you sometimes describe both at the same time- "Bare feet raced over a carpet of fallen leaves", use those to transition from one to the next. Good work on creating suspense with the mysterious blood and horror-esque tone, by the way. It sets the story up nicely for the plot introduction.




Once again, this paragraph could do with some breaking up. Split it into action and reflection; make the actual entering of the slave quarters one paragraph, then her thoughts on what she has done another. If you want to keep it in the same order, make two paragraphs of reflection, with one action in the middle. Also, some of the sentences are a tad confusing, and a few of the reflections seem trivial. It would improve the flow of the story if you removed unnecessary thoughts, improve the pace and whatnot.



You almost go into Mordan's point of view in this paragraph, and while that is not completely off limits, it can be confusing to the reader. I would advise you stick to Raven's perspective the entire story, both to add empathy to her as the protagonist and to keep the reader's belief suspended. If they can see into every character's head, then they realize they are reading a story. The goal of the writer is to make the reader live the story, not just read it.



You convey the sense of her losing herself well; the actual drinking is glossed over, as if she were not herself when it happened. However, the way you do this has the potential to confuse readers. I would advise adding some reflection about how she suddenly came to her senses, with warm blood fresh on her lips, so that we can be sure of what is happening. While you want to maintain an air of mystery with this type of thing, you cannot leave out any action that takes place in the story. It'd be like skipping a scene in a movie; it's not really mysterious as much as it is annoying.

However, the scene as a whole is very powerful and well done. An excellent demonstration of the reflection we recieved earlier.



A few minor mistakes throughout these two paragraphs, but otherwise well done. You might want to add a bit more internal dialogue with Raven as she runs away, to justify and finalize the action a bit more for the readers. As it is it leaves the audience hanging a bit, and not completely in a good way.



You don't need to specify how far she ran, or that she even escaped. The latter would be evident if you simply showed us that she came upon a small chapel, you don't need to directly inform us that she escaped the slaves quarters. Also, you might want to add a little bit more description of the church itself. You are getting more into telling and less into showing with this bit. In showing you paint a picture for the reader; telling you are simply relating events. Showing is the best option in a slow paced section like this, where you can afford some longer paragraphs and more detailed sentences.



A good descriptive paragraph, denoting both her grieving state of mind and her desparate situation. Use this time of relative peace to add some reflection, let her think through what happened, adding some more suspense to the story. If she realizes and accepts that she is a vampire, she should be thinking about it- most likely in a rather depressed or even maniacal way.



The paragraph starts out well, with a bit of suspense at her having been found, and mystery at who has found her. However, once again you would be better off separating this into two or even three paragraphs: one of the man approaching, one describing what he looks like, and one finally revealing him as her father (or combine the last two into one, should you choose).

Near the end, you slip into the father's point of view again, telling the reader things the protagonist and narrator doesn't know. You can insinuate it by his red eyes and surprising calmness at her murders, but to tell us these things outright is simply anticlimactic. Leave the reader a few things to figure out on their own. But other than that, a very well done paragraph.



An excellent ending to the prologue of your tale; I found little wrong with these last few paragraphs. Perhaps let the audience wonder why she is not harmed by the sun instead of directly stating it, but no big mistakes. The fact that her father knows and she does not is also apparant, no need to state that either. Let a few mysteries remain, you want the audience to come back for more, do you not?

All in all an excellent story, with only a few minor mistakes and a tendency to squash paragraphs together. I will most certainly work on a review for the next chapter in the near future. Thanks for writing, and keep up the good work :goodjob:

OOC: Thanks for the reviewing feedback! I gotta take some lessons in proper sintax, grammar not so much, but it's still essential. Thanks!. I will try to lower the chapter count but make it a juicy read throughout.


Chapter Three: Festivity preparations


Draken was preparing himself for the party, he checked his array of attire, debating with himself on which would be the best pick for the night. He picked his favorite red linen shirt with silky black outlining, he also chose some extravagant shoes made from the most expensive material in the Empire. Surely the woman would easily be swayed by his seduction. As he got dressed and placed his clothes away, he heard a disturbance.

There was a faint knock on the door. He moved through the darkness of his room. There were no windows in his chamber, but he could see in the dark as easily as a predator could see in the day. He rose to his feet and went to greet his uninvited visitor. He frowned as he opened the door, and was rather disappointed at the sight.

“May I come in?” Raven whispered.

Draken stepped aside, catching the scent of her perfume as she brushed past him. As he silently closed the door behind her, she walked over to the coffin bed and sat down on the edge. Draken folded his arms at his chest and did not blink. He awaited patiently for an answer, but since he found none, he had to ask:

“What do you want?” he asked.

"Getting ready for a party?“ she responded.

He felt even more bitter. The only individual in the entire house that knew of the party Draken was going to attend to was his mother. He had no doubt that she had probably told Raven about it just so they can share some time together. He uncrossed his arms, bringing them to his side and clenching them tightly.

“Mother told you about the party?”

“No. You did. Just now” Raven smiled, relishing in a mere choice of words that had the brother reveal his own plans for a late night leisure. His expression was silent, probably contemplating on how he foolishly just informed her himself.

“I…” He paused.

“Don’t bother, Draken. I can see the invitation for it on the desk. The two pairs of shoes in the corner that are usually left inside your closet and the trappings that you now wear” The words sounded compassionate, as if she were seeking to understand him. But Draken could sense the contempt beneath them.

“I have answered your question,“ he muttered. “Now you answer mine. Why are you here?”

She hesitated, her eyes searching the ground frantically, as if searching for an answer. Draken recognized this unconscious gesture; it signified she was lost in thought, trying to sort something out.

“I am going with you” She finally said.

“No,” Draken said harshly.

“Why not?” Asked Raven--she knew he disliked her following him around--but she wasn’t that annoying, was she?

“I don’t need you following me around.”

Raven sighed. Sitting up and making her way to Draken. She placed her arm around his neck and over his shoulder. A sly smile emerged from her face.

“We are brother and sister, it would be great if we could spend some time together. I understand the past years between us have been rather difficult.”

“And?” He asked.

We are more than individuals tied by prodigious flesh. While that is true to a point, that is not what truly keeps us together. We are kin, don’t you see? The way a set of mortal twins might sense one another from afar or share the same predilections in clothes or décor or food, we share our tastes, too. Our mortal ancestors used to breed horses, you know?”

“Yes,”

“Breeding is key. Choice traits, cultivated. That is what we hope to achieve with our families. We sense one another, we become one another. I long to make amends”

Draken scoffed “How do you plan on doing that?”

“I can perhaps find some fancy trollop and introduce her to you. We can go hunting tonight and I shall present the most succulent woman to satisfy your needs.”

“You need not bother," Draken said arrogantly.

Raven knew that Draken was undeniably gorgeous to most women. They admired his broad-shoulders, his hard, flat stomach and the perfect proportioned limbs. His sensuous, perfectly symmetrical features: soft, red lips and crimson, smoldering eyes that seemed to draw anyone in if they stared at them too long. All in all, he was attractive and that’s what made him deadly. She had to figure another way to try and smooth-talk her way to accompany him without annoying him--since he was always hostile, that would be difficult.

“I have an idea in mind,” Draken announced, breaking free from his sister’s embrace. “Perhaps you can perish and allow me to live on as the only child” He chuckled.

Raven did not laugh.

“So be it, little sister,” Draken sighed “Put on something pleasing.” Draken commanded.

“What sort of party is it?” Raven asked with mild curiosity.

“A congregation of nobles and aristocrats from Hammerfell, Skyrim and Morrowind. A fancy party with over two hundred invited guests. I am among them.”

“Two hundred.” Raven said, she didn’t make it a question.

“It will be in a castle in the Colovian Highlands. Perfect for us. No one will expect two or three missing individuals,”

“Not initially,” Raven concluded “But later, they shall.”

“The Legion will blame highwaymen and bandits. If they suspect vampires…the bodies will be long gone. Just throw them somewhere, the predators of the wild will make feast of them”

“I find it appropriate that my brother wants to lecture me on how to hunt”

“How am I to get in if you received the invitation?”

Draken scratched his head, he didn’t think of that before. “You’ll find a way. I’m sure. Now, make haste, I’m late already” He rushed. He reached for a small crate of gold that sat near the corner of his room, he opened it open, revealing many septims inside. He grabbed five-hundred pieces and made his way to the other corner of his room where a rather large statuette of Clavicus Vile and Barbas sat. Draken dropped the pieces of gold upon a small silver plate, as an offering to Lord Vile. Raven stared in mild distraught, causing Draken to look back as he realized she still graced the room with her presence. Each of them had a statuette, of both Daedric Princes Clavicus Vile and Molag Bal, the Kin-father of all vampires.

“Did you not understand me. If you want to go, then get dressed” He barked.

It was Raven’s turn to scoff, she shook her head and left the room, still standing on the doorway. Her golden eyes staring at the statuette of the Order’s Patron. She glanced back at Draken.

“Lord Vile deserved much more than what you have given. You mimic the pathetic offering attempt of mortals.” Before Draken could respond or defend his actions, Raven closed the door shut, leaving Draken to reflect on his offerings. She had a point.


*********

Chapter Four: Hunting in society


*********
Raven was taking too long to get dressed, the impatient Draken went across the halls to get to her chambers. He had finally reached the threshold of Raven’s door. He knocked sharply at it, then opened it when the command to enter came from within. Raven was kneeling in the far side of her room, praying to the small statue of Molag Bal. Draken had visited this room few times before, but each time it caught his breath at the extravagance of it. He admired her sense of fashion at least.

White candles burned heavy scent while scattered haphazardly about to provide a dim glow in the hazy air. In one corner was a large, luxuriant deluxe coffin bed. In another was a black wooden table, a small chest atop it. The chest was open, revealing the extravagant jewelry inside: necklaces, rings of gold and silver encrusted with ostentatious precious stones. Raven surrounded herself with material goods and the trappings of wealth, she took great pride in it all. However, he knew she took more interest in her studies than anything else, draining knowledge from texts like a book-leech. She was more prideful with the manuscripts and tomes that lined the bookshelves along her wall. Many of the volumes were hundreds of years old, of various different topics: Vampires, Imperial History, Necromancer’s and a variety of many guilds in Tamriel and covert and shadowy organizations such as the Dark Brotherhood and the Morag Tong.

Draken was briefly distracted from all the displays of wealth in her dark chambers, but her prayer to Molag Bal brought his attention back to her. She thanked the Kin-father and left an offering of gold and lion pelt. She was strictly devoted to the worship of two Daedric Princes; Molag Bal and Clavicus Vile. She honors them just about every day with offerings and gold. An exaggeration, Draken thought, If I must say so myself.

Even if he gave little attention to his patrons, he still respected them with devout loyalty. If not for Molag Bal, Draken wouldn’t have his Dark Gift, which gave him his powers: Increased speed, strength, seduction and many powers that he could use. And thanks to Clavicus Vile, the power of his clan was even better. Blend in society, act and live as mortals, but not like mortals. Thanks to Clavicus, he could walk in a tavern and drain some dancing queen in the shadows and leave as if nothing happened. Life as a living was good.

“Are you ready to leave?” Raven asked grimly.

“I am” Draken replied softly.

Both of the siblings walked down the stairs. Each wearing a marvelous choice of clothing. Raven wore her black gown-like dress. The silky clothing covered her briasts while most of the golden-lined side also covered her sides, revealing part of her stomach, but only slightly. She did not need to rely on outrageous trappings to lure in prey, her very lovable attitude and power could do that.

As they reached and opened the door to exit the mansion, a man covered in a blue outfit from blue suede shoes to shirt, stood before them. His hair was white and wiry, he was a bit wrinkled, he had a prominent widow’s peak and appeared to be in his late fifties. Plastered on his face, was a forced smile of one who tried to persuade people with a friendly attitude. He failed miserably by what Raven could see. She quickly glanced at his carriage and then back at him. He bowed slightly to her and Draken.

“Good evening. My name is Arellius Sartius. This is the house of Armand, correct?”

Raven nodded, Draken simply stared with a hostile glare. They rarely had visitors this time around, especially with their condition. But it seemed that Armand had trusted them enough to allow a moderate measure of visitors. The fact that they allowed them to go looking for prey alone far from home was also an act of trust and faith.

Arellius smiled “Oh. You must Raven? I heard so much about you!” he said.

I certainly hope not, Raven thought. “From who?” she smiled widely.

“Your father has told me many great things about you. Your love for the Empire and your studies. A truly accomplished young girl from what I heard. He must be proud.”

“Well, I do my best,” Raven forced a smile, much more believable than the old man’s.

Draken shoved past away the old man, almost bumping his shoulder against him. She suspected he was in a hurry or maybe the lack of compliments to him drove him quicker towards the edge. To his perspective, Raven was loved more than he was, so he believed anyways.

“Is that your brother?” Asked the old man.

“Yes,”

“He really needs to get to a healer, he is looking rather pale. Is he alright?”

“A flu came down,” Raven lied “We are on our way to go to a party and perhaps get some potions for him along the way” She chuckled lightly, her body turning slightly to try and leave quickly, but she paused, looking back at the man.

"You have buisness with my father?"

The man did not respond right away, Raven discerned it was probably a private matter. Before he answered, her father emerged from the doorway. He welcomed the man inside the house with a hearty laugh and inquired about his daughter’s next destination. Raven gave the same story that she fed the old man named Arellius. She was excused and quickly made her way to her black horse that stood eating inside the stables.

She looked for Draken and saw that he was already on the road leaving the Vladmir territory. She quickly hopped on her mount and galloped behind. When she finally caught up, he said absolutely nothing. She held her tongue, refusing to try and harass her brother. She knew she could make him bite, but what if she could make him roll over and beg? She would have to try and slowly gain his trust, and then she will be able to improve herself for the coming years. Draken was older, he knew more people than she did. He was alterior path to many contacts, she could use him to get to meet new people and potential begin plans of her own.


*************

Draken and Raven arrived at the castle. He left his horse on the stable outside of the walls, where the other steeds were placed. The night was still young and the moons were shining bright. The stars filled the dark heavens, making Draken all too eager to begin his picking. He concentrated most of his thoughts on enjoying himself at the festivity, rather than the feast itself. Overall, it kept him from resenting all the praise his father gave to his sister. He did not even bother taking a peek to look at her, her very presence was irritating. But if he is to buy his father’s acceptance, he has to learn to respect what his father loves, and in this case, Raven.

His eyes darted from the large castle to the entrance that was filled with many upstanding citizens of the Empire and some foreign visitors from all over Tamriel. A cornucopia of different races and flavors to suit his palate. His first choice of the night would have to be a succulent young Imperial girl, then maybe a Dunmer lass and perhaps, if he felt it, a gilded young man the same age as his. He led the way onto the entrance, giving the guard an invitation that granted him access to enter the large party. Then he remembered that Raven did not have one. I hold onto hope that she is kept outside, Draken mumbled in his thoughts. He entered, sparing a contemptuous glance behind as he vanished into the crowd of people.

The feast began shortly after they arrived, in celebration of a new Emperor and new peace for the Empire. Elegant nobles, bedecked in finery, crowded the great hall of the castle, which was a scene of most robust merriment. Crimson banners hung from the ceiling. Troubadours performed in the gallery, the sprightly music of their lutes and harps competing with the high-spirited laughter and pvssyr of the gossiping aristocrats. Blazing flambeaux lighted the hall, the better to show off the splendid raiment of the outstanding gentlemen and ladies. The first person to have Draken’s attention was the coordinator of the entire event, an Imperial named Alanier. With an ego as high as his gold income, Alanier was a very known and influential man in Cyrodiil. He was no vampire, but Draken felt somewhat a respect for his accomplishments, for most, they were admirable.

Alanier presided over the high table, looking out over the assembly from his place on the higher balcony, his daughter was seated to his right, while his son occupied a position of honor at his left hand. Crisp white linen was draqed over the table, while beeswax candles provided additional illumination by which the prominent nobles might see and be seen. Goblets and cutlery were made of gold or pewter. Better to display his wealth and splendor. Below the balcony, on the main floor of the hall, trestle tables and benches had been set up to accommodate the various courtiers, artisans, wealthy, and ladies-in-waiting in attendance. Servants scurried back and forth between the hall and the kitchen, toting a seemingly endless array of savory treats and dishes. Draken flashed a grand predatory smile and ventured in the crowd to hunt.



***********

Raven expected such immature act of ignorance from Draken, what she did not await was the enormity of it. She found herself outside without an invitation. Many guests passed by her and inside the large two metal doors that led to the inside of the grand castle. She stroked her black hair smoothly and made her way toward the main guard who received the invitations. She already had the clothes, all she did was to prove her wealth. Even in the Imperial Legion, no matter how “noble” their actions may be, corruption is seeded somewhere inside. Raven could easily bribe her way in with the correct amount of septims. And so she did smiling only barely, her fangs in form of human teeth. She pulled exactly seventy gold pieces and offered it to the guard.

“I had lost my invitation on route to this celebration. And my brother is already inside. I need to be at his side at all times. I am truly sorry for this inconvenience” Raven said, mixing lies with truth.

“Well,” the guard said. “I’m not able to allow anyone inside without an invitation, but since you asked kindly and you give me good reason to believe that what you say is true, then you may proceed inside.”

Raven bowed slightly and followed the other individuals quickly inside. That was far easier than she had expected. Her eyes opened wide at the wonder at what she saw.

Her first impression was that, in many ways, the castle resembled the mansion she lived in near the Imperial City: it was less a home than a temple of elegance and luxury in which no expense had been spared. A chandelier dominated the entrance, lighting everything inside. The halls were lined with stone floors, and several of the rooms Raven inspected contained expensive carpets, each one woven over several generations by a succession of master artisans. The massive dining room could easily seat more than a hundred guests at a table made from oak wood. The desk in a room she wandered in was even more extravagant; she recognized it as the work of the master crafts-beings of Summerster Isle, hand carved from a rare wood.

But the furniture paled when compared with the rare and expensive works of art that accentuated each room. The owner had a penchant for bold, exciting pieces, and Raven was almost certain everyone was an original work. She recognized statues carved by Deena Deroob, the renowned Dunmer sculptor, landscapes from Summerset Isles, the Altmer’s most famous painter, and several portraits that bore the unmistakable style of Henne Agar, the brilliant Breton master of the arts. Clearly, the owner was someone who preferred the finer things in life.

The Vladmir Mansion was supposed to give the same impression to visitors--all the extravagant art and opulent furniture was part of a facade, key to maintaining the disguise of a successful family of Imperial nobles, but not only. In this case, however, she wasn't convinced the lavish decor was an act. There was a certain vibrancy here. Everything felt as if they had breath. They felt active. Alive. The more she wandered about, the more Raven began to believe that the Imperial wasn't just playing a part: his home was a true reflection of his personality. He obviously enjoyed spending his fortune on material goods; he craved the attention and envy it inspired in others. Which made it perfect for Raven to pick out someone and lure them away from the castle grounds while they consumed mind altering drinks or enjoyed the beautiful works of art. All this without drawing too much attention. Aside from the guards positioned at the rooms, there was no one else besides them and the guests.

Continuing her tour, Raven mounted a large spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. Running her hand slowly across the fine finish of the railing on the balcony overlooking the sitting room below, she made her way to the rear of the castle. There she came across Alanier’s library. Hundreds of books lined the walls, but most were novels written purely for entertainment, works she wouldn't consider worthy of reading herself. One shelf did give her hope, however: a collection of Provincial manuals and guides authored by experts in more than two dozen widely varied fields. Assuming Alanier had actually read and studied them all, he was a man of broad knowledge and numerous talents. Raven’s targets were among many, but the one who caught her attention was this beautiful Imperial woman that she saw walking up the stairs. She was fairly good looking, she had curly brown hair that fell to her shoulders, her eyes were as blue as the daylight sky and her skin was equivalent to that of a child, Raven concluded that this woman was in her early twenties, perhaps twenty-two. Raven practically devoured her with her eyes. But she quickly composed herself and went to the edge of the balcony where she gazed upon the multitude of individuals dining, laughing, dancing and smiling.

Many of the people gathered in the castle were gorgeous, renowned as much for their incredible beauty as their knowledge. But as people drew closer to Raven, they found they were unable to take their eyes off her. There was something magnetic about her, something that transcended mere physical attractiveness. Raven heard the faint footsteps behind her, the woman was getting closer, but she did not notice Raven, she was trapped inside her own mind. It was up to Raven to lure her into her snare.

“Ha!” Raven suddenly began laughing loudly “Hilarious!”

The Imperial woman stopped behind Raven, she gazed with confusion at the young Imperial girl who began laughing. Her curiosity overpowered her, so strongly, that she immediately joined Raven and stood beside her, inspecting the crowd below to try and get a share of the comedy. As much as she searched, she was unable to discover what made Raven giggle. And asked what Raven expected.

“If I may, what is it that you find so amusing?” The woman asked, perplexed.

Raven gasped lightly, as if surprised to see a woman standing near her. Her hand flew to her chest as Raven gave off few chuckling breaths. A lovable smile came upon her face as she leaned in closer to the older Imperial woman. Raven’s breath touched the ear of the woman, her whisper was faint and cold, with a few simple words, she drew in the woman’s attention. Raven pointed at a man who's shoes were mismatched, then at a breton who had an outfashioned hairstyle, all of which made the Imperial woman laugh as Raven did. It beyond easy, Raven told the woman was into modern fashion by the way she dressed, the green dress she wore was of the most recent popularity in Cyrodiil, Raven was able to correctly guess the woman's sense of humor and understanding by the way she walked, the way she smiled and the trappings she wore. In a few minutes, they began exchanging stories and jokes and compliments. Raven had found her prey.

OOC: There needs to be a conflict in the story, so I see it's nescessary to lead into that conflict. The story seems to be without a plot, but it is making it's way into a good story. This is just the events of their adolescent hood which will evolve onto advlt-hood in the next few chapters, where the true plot unfolds. :read:

Chapter Five: Unpleasent Surprises

Raven was able to lead the woman safely out of the castle. Slowly luring her to the forest ahead. She was clearly aware of the situation: A young girl leading a slightly older woman into a dark forest was very conspicuous, but hours had passed and most folks were too drunk to even notice Raven and the woman. The guards themselves were paying more attention to the dancing drunkard rather than what they are suppose to watch. Raven spoke to the woman, asking few questions that required long answers, to buy her time enough to lead her far away from the location without raising suspicion. She could easily drain dry the woman here, but she felt better to lead her further into the woods, it brought her a sense of safety and security. Over the hours, she had been acting like a sister to this Imperial woman, making it easy to persuade and impress.

The winds blowing were bitterly cold, like a knife drawn across the rag of Raven's soul. Not even the barren, skeleton-fingered trees could shield her from the chilling gusts, not that she cared for such considerations. As she walked further, the sound of rushing water began to notify that a river was nearby, just beyond the shrubs that were ahead. The woman spoke words that Raven could care less of. She could hear the blood running through her veins louder than the river water flowing. She grabbed the woman by her hand, pulling her toward the river's edge were the water flowed in a slow, soothing manner, leading her closer there.

"I visit here every day," Raven lied "I enjoy the peace and quiet. I can just sleep with the sound of the water"

The lady smiled "I should come here more often. Too many headaches in life to deal with"

Raven made a sound of agreement, but her mind was clearly dwelling on something else; Blood. Warm, sweet, fresh nectar that was inches away from her. She could not bear it any longer.

The Imperial sighed "I should of brought some sweetrolls back from party. I'm starting to get hungry"

"There is something worse than being hungry. Being food" Raven smiled pleasantly and licked her lips, revealing canine teeth horribly distended into hideous fangs.

The woman hesitated briefly, but Raven reached for her with supernatural agility, grabbing hold of her smooth hair and placing her hands on her neck, slowly choking it. The bite of the vampire would be the last thing the woman would feel before she died, and it was seconds away now. That decision made, Raven sank her fangs into the immobilized woman, passionately draining her of blood, slowly, bit by measured bit. Not a drop of blood, not a ingle dribble of the Imperial's life were spilled. The soft neck pumped the warm and treacly nectar into Raven's tongue down her throat. The woman felt weaker and weaker, feeling the rush of her precious life's liquid being svcked by the vampire. Long after Raven consumed enough to replenish her mind for many hours to come, she continued to drink, until she held nothing but a lifeless husk in her arms and the burgeoning love of the feast in her heart.


*****

Hunger screamed in Draken's skull, the animal in him demanding he consummate the last act of the search and plunge his fangs into his quarry’s throat. Stalk, pursue, kill. His every fiber pleaded for that fulfillment. Draken hadn’t planned on drinking from the Dunmer initially, but surely some spoils for the search were in order. At least enough to slake the thirst; just a taste of blood to wet his lips and calm the urge clawing at his chest. The Dunmer woman was married to some fool living in Cheydinhal. She did not accept Draken's promises of a splendid night. By Sanguine's lust, I never failed at this before, Draken complained in his mind. Perhaps it was because the woman was older? Or maybe she was not attracted to young Imperial fellows such as himself. No worries though, tonight she was alone while her husband worked the night away. She was all his. From what he heard at the party, she was staying at an Inn with her sister, she was leaving early to get some sleep.

Draken rushed outside of the party to get ahead of her, he stalked the night with hungry intentions, his eyes following her every movement. While he remained out of sight behind the trees, she walked the road with no display of fear. Her confidence in her safety would ultimately be her undoing. The roads were often safer and very few risks occurred, which gave Draken an edge to his hunting. He kept at the shadows, seeing a few Legion soldiers patrol by with their horses, stopping by to ask his prey if anything was okay. After she assured them that everything was as it should be, Draken decided to attack. He emerged from the darkness of the trees and onto the road, his hands inside of his pockets to offer no threats to the Dunmer woman. She was indeed surprised by his appearance, but otherwise calm. She gasped slightly, breathing in measured sighs as she tried to collect her fears.

"You followed me from the party, didn't you?" She said, no hint of regret in her voice.

"A lovely woman such as yourself should not be walking alone at this time of night. Too many predators out there," He said as he approached her slowly, smiling a very friendly smile.

"I can take care of myself," She laughed "And I told you, I am very faithful to my husband. Don't try anything"

Draken saw that the woman was far too trusting to everyone. That fact alone showed that she probably was not native to Morrowind where mistrust was known and treachery was common. She probably thought Draken was a stupid young boy with a fantasy of going to bed with an older woman, thus he posed no threat to her. He doubted in his later years people would be this naive. He had to enjoy this as much as he could. He chuckled a naughty laugh and got closer to the Dark Elf, this is when she became more alert and stepped back.

Draken was done with the monologue. His canines grew, becoming terrifying fangs as the Dunmer watched in horror. All at once the blood drained from her beautiful, ashen face, becoming a paler shade. She fled from the scene, foolishly running into the woods instead of following the road in an attempt to evade him in the maze of trees. But he was much faster than her, and her long dress got caught on the outstretched vines and branches, hindering her movement. Finally, he caught up to her while she tried to yank off a cloth from her dress that was holding her back to the side of a tree. She tried to scream, but Draken was already upon her.

He leaned down, keeping his mouth shut but drawing closer to the carotid arteries that twitched with the Dark Elf's beating heart. He could hear the frightened rabbit-like patter of his prey’s heartbeat echoing inside chest. He opened his mouth wide and sunk his fangs into her skin, his teeth piercing her flesh, beginning to svck what was most precious to her in that moment; Her life.

It was the same thing every night. Every night the same battle raged in Draken and every night he proved himself, if not better, then in greater control of his circumstances. This was another set of conditions dictated by outside forces, another degree of enslavement in an existence where it was all he could do to separate man from creature. Draken pulled away from the lass’s neck, silently swallowing the drink down. She was still alive, gasping loud breathes as she tried to scream for help, but before she could, he clenched his fingers around her jaw and held it tight, snapping it in his grip. He sighed dispassionately and leaned down to her neck to continue feeding.

****

The snow-white corpse was taken away by the rushing waters. By the time it would be discovered by villagers or adventurers, the body would be eaten away by scavenging critters like the mudcrabs and fish, the dead Imperial woman would be mistaken for any death other than a vampire's kill. This suited Raven well, if only her father would be there to witness her cleverness. He would be proud of her, unlike that reckless excuse for a vampire, Draken!

She leaned down the edge of the cold stream, cupping her hands in the river to collect refreshing water to clean her bloody mouth. With patience, Raven cleaned away the stains of blood from the corners of her mouth and lips. Making sure she retained that lovely appearance of a young Imperial noble instead of a blood-svcking "monster". With a few other minutes of self-pampering, Raven erased all trace of her inhuman nature. With a full stomach, Raven was ready to slumber, as her quenched thirst and silenced hunger had given way to exhaustion. She was more than ready to crawl into her coffin back at home to sleep the day away. In that thought, Raven yawned loudly, happily returning to the castle to fetch her brother to return home. By this time, he would surely be done with his supper. The sun was going to emerge soon, by the position of the moons, she could estimate she had two hours left until sunrise.

While she walked back to the party, she heard indistinct voices coming from the East. Curious, Raven turned to inspect what it was, each seconds passing the voices grew louder. She walked over logs and past trees, distancing herself from her original destination. As she drew closer, she soon discovered what it was. A holdup.

Three bandits surroundings an unlucky couple of aristocrats. She recognized the party clothes, showing they as well were going to call it a night. The male quickly emptied his pockets, but the Imperial woman was reluctant, refusing to give up her emerald necklace. And all of the sudden, the bandits attacked them with their swords, stabbing the woman, and managing to impale the man. Raven watched the entire event unfold and come to a bloody conclusion. And to her lack of luck, they saw her from the distance. Drat! This poorly blended outfit gave me away, Raven complained about the dress.

Before she could leave the scene, she heard noises coming from behind her. Raven whirled around quickly, but all she saw was a fist coming straight to her face. Raven felt her heart pounding, her head swimming, three more powerful punches followed right after. Screaming, she collapsed, her free hands slamming into the ground as she braced her fall. Before she tried to get up, a glass boot struck against her face. The feeling was brief, but her body had passed into a state of shock and there was no longer any pain. She lay motionless in a crumpled, twisted heap. Everything started to dim down. She looked up to glimpse two other bandits smiling down on her and then Raven surrendered herself to the merciful darkness.

Any tips for the story? I am currently writing the next chapter after the bandit kidnapping scene. I got a few ideas, but I would like to hear some other ideas.

Not to get you down, but I believe the current forum rule is, only one fanfic allowed per person. So, I am not trying to be an ass. Yet, I am notifying you so you will not be surprised if/when the mods randomly lock one of your fanfictions, or ask you to take one down.

Oh, I didn't realize that. Thanks for the tip. I should put this on hold and continue the other one. I didn't think people were reading this one anyway -_-

Like it so far

By forum rules, I will have to abandon this fanfic. I am not really bothered, it goives room for major improvement in story and plot in the future. Thanks though.

EDIT: Let this topic fade away. DO NOT BUMP IT.