My story got a little out of hand, I apologize. It's long but I hope you all enjoy it anyway. Also I couldn't remember what province exactly Rorikstead was in but remembered it was kind of to the west so I said the Reach.
The dark chamber was draped in ornate linens, and decorated with gold and silver. Atop a stone table a golden ruby-inlaid goblet stood proudly next to a crystal decanter filled with a sanguine fluid. Behind the table a wine rack adorned the western wall of the room, stocked with an impossibly old and incredibly rare selection. Two heavy wooden doors stood between this chamber and the outside hallway on the north side, and a table with two chairs decorated the east wall. On a raised platform on the south side of the room, lay an extravagant, gold-plated sarcophagus-like coffin. The sound of metal grinding against metal marked the sliding open of the gaudy container. A black form floated silently upwards out of the coffin, and continued forward as it righted itself. Grindal Erdenwal, Vampire Scourge of the Reach, floated towards the ground until his bare feet noiselessly touched the ground. Slim shoulders shrugged off the day's slumber and red eyes opened slowly. The night had been coming sooner and sooner as the weather grew colder, meaning the Reach belonged to him for longer each day. He briefly considered having a thrall brought to him for his evening meal, however he had an important agenda tonight and didn't want to delay his getting started. He settled for some vintage he had saved, and started for the decanter on the table. The fort that he and his kin called home for the time being was erected during the second great War by the Nords, and conveniently for its new nocturnal occupants, had a large amount of underground space for storage. During this time of peace the fort was manned only by a skeleton crew, ironic considering they were currently decomposing in shallow Graves near the forts entrance. He poured the blood, still warm and not coagulated thanks to an alchemical addition, into his goblet. Tonight was an important night. Something had been afflicting the denizens of Rorikstead, and tonight he aimed to find out what or who was moving in on his feeding grounds. Reports had been erratic, and the true nature of the darkness that spread within the now-walled city had been kept under wraps. He swirled the blood next to his nostrils, moving with a haughty air of royalty. Virgins blood from the last town they raided. His tongue moved over white fangs to lick his pale lips, but before the goblet reached his mouth, he froze. A bottle was missing from his wine shelf, and not just any bottle. He stared a moment, then smiled. "Shadowbanish Wine," He said to the seemingly empty room. He took a long sip from the goblet before turning to face the intruder. "You have good taste."
After a girlish laugh broke the silence, his guest finally chose to reveal herself. The raven-haired girl in black sat casually at the table on the other side of the room with her feet crossed on the chair opposite her. On the table was an open bottle of wine and in her hand a goblet that matched his own.
"That bottle is almost as old as I am. I was saving it." He placed his goblet next to the decanter. "I hear you have a thing for hunting vampires. And since you've made it this far I can assume all my compatriots are dead."
She answered with a silent nod.
"Impressive, child. But compared to myself they were mere infants. Seeing as how you don't seem to be the type for conversation…."
He paused a moment, giving her a chance to speak. She shrugged, placed the goblet on the table and rose to her feet.
"Seeing as you’re the silent type, you might as well do what you came here to do" as he finished he held his arms out at his sides palms up. Almost before he could blink a bow was in her hand and an arrow was on its way. Grindal disappeared and the arrow hit nothing but a cloud of black smoke. The smoke reformed directly in front of his attacker and Grindal was directly in front of her, staring into her dumbfounded eyes. With blinding speed and a visceral sound he shoved a clawed hand up through her abdomen into her ribcage. As he grasped her heart he pulled her hair back so he could look into her terrified eyes. Normally he would gloat over his victims, but this time he decided to return her mocking silence. He tore the heart out through the new hole in her upper abdomen. As its previous owner collapsed, he watched it beat. Once, twice, a quiver, then nothing. He placed the heart on the table next to the empty bottle of wine and used a nearby hand towel to wipe the blood off his hand. A commotion outside drew his attention. A tall Nord in military armor burst through the door with an idiotic look in his face, and reached for his sword. Grindal looked past the man into the corridor behind him. He saw the bodies of half a dozen vampires and almost as many Nordic fighting men in the 15 foot wide hallway. They had come to reclaim there fort, it seems. So be it. He was done with it anyway. In as flash of black smoke he appeared behind the Nord and removed his head for him. Another flash of smoke and another man dropped. A flash of smoke. A spray of blood. The sounds of screams and pleas for mercy filled the hall. He laughed with glee as he avenged his fallen coven. For every fallen vampire he took one of theirs. This continued all the way through the fort until he reached the entryway. Only a few remained. He was in the process of prying the arm off of one soldier and beating another to death with it when something the last soldier said caught his ear.
"WHY? What are you doing?? I am YOUR…"
The Lunatic had gone mad with fear. Grindal silenced him mid sentence by ripping his throat out.
With the visceral sound of flesh tearing, everything around him changed. In front of him, his long time right hand man and only friend stood clutching his throat. His open mouth showed fanged teeth on a face of terror and confusion. Blood sprayed between his fingers and he fell to his knees and collapsed to the ground. In shock, Grindal turned to see the all the bodies of his fallen comrades, torn limb from limb by his own hand. He stumbled backward. Her. That girlish laugh echoed in his head. Impossible, she's dead. He turned toward the Exit, but the door was gone, replaced by an altar with an ornate dagger. The laugh grew louder. He was trapped. He had to find her. Follow the laugh. But he couldn't, it was everywhere. Where was she hiding? He stumbled over bodies and blood and heads and arms and torsos and intestines and hearts, all of the flock he had grown for years. The laughing grew louder. He searched the whole fort before finding his way back to the dagger where the Exit should be. She was nowhere. The laughing grew impossibly louder. She's inside. She's in me. Of course, it was all so clear. The laughing grew louder. He grabbed the dagger from the altar. Of course. She didn't think I'd be smart enough but she was wrong. So wrong. She's inside me. He began to cut into his abdomen. The laughing grew louder. He was getting close. Shut up shut up shut up so many organs in the way shut up shut up how deep? The more intestines I pull out the louder she gets I'm getting close shut up shut up just need to dig deeper SHUT UP SHUT UP ALMOST THERE "SHUT UP PLEASE STOP I'M GOING TO GET YOU JUST NEED TO DIG I WILL FIND YOU PLEASE I'M SORRY JUST SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP shut up shut…. shut up….. shut….."
Anna reached down and removed her dagger from the hands of the vampire, currently kneeling in a pile of his own intestines and blood. His soul had been transferred into a black soul gem that hung with several others along a gold chain at her waist. She allowed herself a broad grin. Something about a centuries old vampire who'd killed countless innocents begging for mercy brought a warmth to her chest. She took a deep breath and reveled in a feeling of… purpose, no matter how fleeting it would be. These moments were the only thing she sought when she had noone to follow, no crusader to aid. She remembered a time that she felt purpose all the time. But now, these moments were all she had. Word had reached her that Rorikstead was in need. Worrying The high from this kill would wear off soon, she walked out the doors of the fort, hoping to leave whomever responsible to a similar fate as the vampire behind her.