The thick oaken door burst open with a loud creak and a clang of its iron banding. Rain splashed into the open portal from the storm outside, the cascading drops beat loudly over the newly silenced tavern. A fierce orange glow from the fire and lanterns about the room illuminated the front of the intruder, who was still sheathed in the darkness from outside. High leather boots fell harshly against the floor and metal buckles rattled as the dark figure marched forward. His left hand fell behind him, pulling the heavy door shut slowly. The glow of the room reflected brightly off the soaking leather which clad the figure from head to foot, a long coat coming from his calves to his face, a dark slouch hat pulled down over a pair of burning eyes. The leather tip of a scabbard protruded from underneath the dripping coattails. A leather gloved hand pulled at the straps around his mouth, revealing the dusky skin of a Redguard, his face showing a day's growth of beard. He stopped in his tracks, water still trickling onto the floor from his garments.

"Are you the keeper of this tavern?" he demanded of the man behind a long, ale soaked counter.

The man had his booted heel upon the bar, and was leaning against the wine rack. His fine velvet doublet and freshly bleach linen shirt bespoke a richly dressed man who was not a publican by trade. His long dark hair was tied behind him, a fiercely thin moustache and sliver of goatee graced a pale, hawk like face. He was speaking with another man seated at the bar, one with closely cropped, iron gray hair. He scowled before answering.

"Yes, I am. And what, may I ask, do you do?"

"I SERVE THE EMPEROR AND ARKAY!" the Redguard roared with divine wrath. He drew aside his coat and brandished a crossbow, small enough to be fired with one hand. The inn keeper's eyes went wide as a bolt was fired full into his chest. The quarrel was small, no bigger than a dart, but the steel had been cursed especially by a battlemage with an enchantment of magickal fire. The innkeeper writhed in agony for a moment before collapsing behind behind the counter.

All eyes were now on the Redguard. He addressed the room. "I am here tonight because I was told of a village. This village was watched over by a minor nobleman," his eyes went back to where the man had reclined, alive, moments ago, "who was in fact, the vile undead. A vampire."

"But the villagers were complacent. They had struck a deal with this...monstrosity...that they and their kin should never fall victim to his unholy hunger, so long as they lured travellers into a tavern, where the creature himself served ale, quenching the thirst of his victims before they served to quench his..."

The Redguard paused. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of burning flesh. It was the smell of freshly roasted meat...not the incinerated remains of a dessicated corpse. His hand raced to his belt, ripping another dart from it's loop, but before he could bring it down the channel of his bow, the gray haired man at the counter leapt as fast as the lighting of the storm outside. Eyes black and glowing like unlit coals over a roaring fire fixed their gaze into his, as a hand clawed with animal nails cut the air, knocking the crossbow across the room.

The vampire crouched like a wild beast, arms outstreteched. He eyed the Redguard wolfishly. The man took a step back and reached for his blade, but the beast was too quick. A catlike hiss escaped an open mouth, fangs protruding from reddened lips. Deathly talons slashed at the man in leather faster than the eye could follow, slicing his coat to ribbons. The beast lunged, his claws raking through to the flesh....A deathly howl burst from the animal maw, the vampire retracted his hands in pain. Through the shreds of the coat, a shining plate of armor glistened. It was silver, it's purity deadly and painful to supernatural creatures.

A brief respite from attack was all the divine warrior needed. In an instant, he drew his blade, it too was crafted of holy silver. Thus armed, he wasted no time in charging the beast, still stunned from his rebounded claws. The Redguard's left hand gripped the hilt tightly, his right palm pressed against the base of the pommel, driving the point of the sword straight through the heart of the beast. A full half foot of silver-etched steel protruded from the spine of the vampire, covered in a sticky black tar...old, dead blood, smelling like the ichor of a charnel house. A frozen scream painted the fanged face, the coal like eyes blazed one last time before the unholy body crumpled, dissolving into dust.

Sheathing his sword, the vampire-killer knelt on the floor, and drew an amulet from the tatters of his coat, a necklace in the diamond shaped figure of the holy dragon Akatosh. Whispering frantically, he was interrupted by one of the dozen drinkers in the tavern.

"Do you pray for the life of the innocent man you killed, or ask forgiveness for his murder?"

The Redguard paused. His brow furrowed with rage. He rose to his feet and drew his sword in one, fluid motion. Pointing it first at the man, then swinging it accusingly around the room, he shouted, "I COULD KILL - YOU - ALL!" "...and the Emperor himself would but nod his head. The man who lies with my bolt burning a hole through his heart was no more innocent than the beast I came here to slay..and your whole damned village shares that guilt!"

Seeing the quieting effect of his words, he resheathed the blade. "I suggest...that should you ever again find yourselves infested with vermin such as this...you send word to the nearest Imperial authority and ask a message bid me to come...My name is Ptommus...and I am a Wytchhunter."

With those final words, he turned sharply on the heel of his buckled leather boots, pulled his slouch hat back over his eyes, and marched into the inky black of the rainstorm from which he came, the stamp and clank of his footsteps fading into the sound of heavy drops still beating down upon the earth.