In the mountains north-west of Falkreath, evening…

The campfire was warming his face pleasantly and he cuddled closer to its embrace, reached out and took a careful sip of the mulled wine that they’d been warming. It was strong and hot, the perfect drink for an evening in these mountains. He gently blew on the beverage and took a gulp, passing it on to the next thankful mouth to his right.

“Whoa there Kadius, are we getting a little tipsy already?” said Clain, giving the camp a chuckle. Clain was a good lad, not yet eighteen summers but a heck of a scout nonetheless. Kadius couldn’t help but wonder how they let so young fellows join the army, but he was thankful Clain was there.

“After one sip you’re the only one who’d be tipsy Clain, and you know it!” shouted a voice and the camp hooted in approval.

“Guilty as charged my friends, guilty as charged!” said Clain with a wide smile and emptied his mug of ale. “Save me some of that mulled wine, will you? I’ll be taking a piss if you don’t mind.” He patted his trousers and briskly strolled towards the frozen lake, leaving a roaring laugh behind.

“Ain’t so bad bein’ stuck ‘ere.” Trisky said as she’d had a taste of the wine. “Sure, we’re more than two dozen miles from the nearest town, but we’ve got a lovely view ‘ere don’t we? Mountains on this side, mountains on that side, and this fine lake to keep us company and keeping a steady wind blowing in our face!” Kadius chuckled, even though he knew Trisky was trying to point out her displeasure of post. But orders were orders, what could you do?

The moon was taking a peak over the mountains, looking like a wheel of cheese caught on the top. The camp was feeling ready for a good night’s sleep, followed by another morning of sitting around, with the day’s peak being the mulled wine at its end. Martelius was giving the fire a new log, keeping the bottom of the mulled wine mug warm for Clain.

“I’ll be taking a piss then, too.” Announced Kadius and strolled away. The world was spinning mildly as he made his way to the lake. “Gods, that mulled wine was strong! Maybe Clain was right.” He steadied himself and found a nice dead tree to aim at.

Far on the lake Clain was ice-skating with his boots, slowly making his way towards Kadius and the shore-line. His cheeks were red from frost but he had a healthy smile on his face, reminding Kadius of his son back in Leyawiin. Kadius watched him dance on the lake’s surface, fond memories awakening inside. He remembered this one time, he and his son were fishing south of Leyawiin. A young and attractive girl had been water-walking, a useful spell, dancing in a way that took all of his son’s attention. Right then the biggest fish he’d seen in these parts took his son’s bait and yanked rod and boy with it overboard and into the salty sea below! Oh how he’d chuckled, but his boy had learned a great lesson back then for his coming hunting-career. Always stay focused.

Clain waved at Kadius and said something, but he was too far away. “Can’t hear you Clain! Got something smart to say, you’ll have to say it over here!” Clain took a quick step, then another and on the third… He fell, head-first… through the ice. Kadius’s heart stopped beating. “Clain!” No response. “CLAIN!” Some in the camp heard him scream and came running, trying to see what the clamor was about. “[censored]! Clain!” Kadius was half-running over the frozen lake now. A scream from the camp ended those thoughts. “Everyone, back to the camp! Go!” He said, drawing his sword. The experienced imperial soldiers didn’t hesitate when given an order, and quickly drew their own swords, running uphill back to camp.

“What the [censored]…” Kadius tried to move but his legs were frozen on the icy-lake. He lost his balance, fell awkwardly to his knees and tumbled to the ground, sword sliding beyond reach. His ankles were shooting pain through his body, burning with an insanity Kadius didn’t think possible. He tried to crawl up, but his legs were broken and stuck. Every move he made only made things worse. Was this how he’d die, against an unknown attacker, against a dirty magical trick? Then he saw it, a pale creature rising smoothly right through the ice right in front of him. Its thin black hair, dripping with cold water, fell lifelessly over its shoulders, its dead eyes glowing with red pupils. The skin was pale with a sickly grey to it, its features skeletal; every bone visible through the parchment-thin skin. It had black sharp claws where a human would have nails, and the fangs in its mouth… It was a vampire, without a doubt! Kadius called for help, but the screams at the camp had gone silent. No-one came to his rescue as the beast placed a hand under his chin, raising his head almost softly and planted its fangs deep in his forehead, svcking his body completely dry, not spilling a single drop of blood. His lifeless body hit the icy lake, skull shattering like dust…

The vampires descended upon the camp, outnumbering the half-drunken, tired and confused soldiers three to one. At the end of the fierce struggle, only three vampires were dead, while the entire camp had either been drained dry there and then, taken captive to be eaten later or been given the kiss of vampirism, soon to join the others at the bottom of the lake for their first feast; to drink their old comrades and friends. The camp was cleaned of everything useful, weapons, gems and armor, anything that could be worth something, used as decoration or target practice.

Feng was amongst the few left in the emptied camp as a few crying captives were dragged to the lake and through the illusory ice covering it. She stood tall in her true form, watching the carnage around her in the dim moonlight. Was this her opportunity, was she finally alone? She patted the stolen steel sword’s edge, trying to remember some finesses with it she had once been capable of.

“Feng, well done today.” A low voice called behind her, the figure approaching without a sound. Clew, one of the best warriors the vampire clan had. Typical, she wasn’t alone. Always watched with two eyes, no matter how long you’d been with the clan. The core group always watched its interests.

“Always happy to welcome a few brothers and sisters to our family.” She answered with a false grin, feeling her lungs tickle against their skeleton prison with every spoken word. In truth, it gave her no satisfaction to curse others with this existence, but it was either that or killing them. At least this way they had a chance to choose for themselves what they wanted. She had found a young Redguard lad, sleeping when they attacked. She had chosen to give him the neck-kiss of vampirism and could hear him panting in the tent, the last warmth in his body escaping him. Then there was that equally young Imperial woman, strange to see one such as her in a soldier’s encampment, but Feng had given her the kiss nonetheless. Her crying was weak and scared. There was also that chained fellow, the bosmer. Obviously a prisoner, wrong place at the wrong time at least twice already, first when he was captured and now that the camp was attacked. He too was now enjoying the last warmth his body would ever feel… Unless Feng’s plan would work.

“Let’s wrap it up then, bring the new-blood!” Clew said and walked towards the Redguard’s tent. He placed a clawed hand on Feng’s shoulder as he passed, coughing with delight. Then his back was turned to her. Fast and silently as only a Volkihar lake-vampire could move, she turned to face the exposed back of the elder, more powerful vampire. Clew was still grinning to himself as he approached the tent, then staggered and hissed in confusion. The steel-blade pierced the beast with easy, leaking dusty sand-like blood onto the cold mountainside. He gnarled and reached behind, trying to grab his assailant. An aura of frost emitting from the elder’s hands was freezing everything around the two undead, instantly putting out the sparkling fire.

“Curse…” He coughed, biting his lips in frustration. “..you…” A quick yank of the sword crushed his weak spine, ending the vampire’s life. He fell clumsily, decades upon decades suddenly catching up with his frail body. Feng didn’t hesitate. The others would be busy feasting, but if neither of them returned in a few hours they would grow suspicious.

She dragged the three turning victims to a single tent. She noted they were all wearing clothes or armor of sorts, and found a spare set of pants and a tunic to slip into, finishing her attire with a set of oddly comfortable shoes. She flung the steel-sword into a belt around her waist and took on her illusion, awaiting the awakening of the three to-be-vampire’s.