Spoiler Journal of a fallen Hammerfell Noble - (Dawnguard Spoilers)

[Cerberus65]

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Evening all, just incase you are all wondering what the purpose of this long, no doubt tedious post is; it's my first attempt at fan fiction. I've decided to write an entire back story for a character I am planning on using on my next Skyrim playthrough. The back story I've written is going to take place a number of weeks before the events of Skyrim, as a sort of prologue to my characters story. I am planning on playing as a Redguard vampire hunter, with the story heavily tied into the Dawnguard story line, so if you haven't played Dawnguard then I recommend not reading ahead. I'm going to try and stay as true to the lore of the Elder Scrolls as much as my imagination lets me (with a bit of minor personalisation and head-canon to make my characters story fit all the more in with the events of Skyrim). I respect constructive criticism so if you feel there is something out of place, or something that doesn't really connect with the flow of the story, then feel free to comment and let me know. ​

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Enjoy. ​

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8th of Sun's Height, 4E 201​

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Where do I begin; my name is Kelvyn. I am a native of the great sovereign nation of Hammerfell; born to the noble house of Sendu which had been a keen political power ever since the end of the civil war between the Forebears and Crowns, and the Aldmeri Dominion withdrawing their forces from Hammerfell. Hammerfell was betrayed by the Empire, The Imperials surrendered instead of fighting to the death like many of my kinsmen did to ensure those Aldmeri bastards knew that Hammerfell was Redguard land, and that it was free of the so called "Peace Treaty" that the rest of the Empire bent its knee too.​

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This isn't a history lesson however, this is a journal of my memoirs, for if I don't succeed in my mission, then hopefully this journal will be enough to ensure the menace that destroyed my family is recognized and wiped from the face of Nirn. I speak of course, of an ancient clan of vampires that dwell somewhere within the province of Skyrim. This clan; known collectively as the Volkihar are reputed to be one of the most fearsome vampire clans to reside within Tamriel. Legends and misguided rabble tend to point that the vampires themselves are capable of many feats that the average vampire is incapable of doing. One book titled "Immortal Blood" held such information. According to a vampire hunter called Movarth Piquine, the Volkihar are capable of reaching through the ice of their lakes (which they reside under as their lairs) without breaking it; the author babbled about the ability of their breath being able to freeze a mans blood while it still channeled through his veins. Such information however is useless, unless verified from several sources which is impossible (due to the book being written sometime during the third era). The book taught me one thing however, that this clan, the Volkihar, are an adversary that is completely unpredictable and should be approached with utmost caution.​

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Now that my enemy is clear to you, I must explain my intentions for hunting these foul beasts. As aforementioned, I am a noble of house Sendu; who were a political force in Hammerfell until the night that they were destroyed. Lost in the ages, is a secret that only a select few members of my house are privy to, that our history began as a clan of vampire hunters. House Sendu has protected Hammerfell from the threat of vampires ever since rise and fall of the Crimson Scars, who were a splinter faction of the Dark Brotherhood, led by a vampiric assassin who went by the name of Greywyn Blenwyth, who gave them prominence in 3E 421. The Crimson Scars however were short lived. The story goes that the Dark Brotherhood were responsible for the liquidation of the scars, ordering a purification (the second ever performed within recorded history) which in turn destroyed the scars leaving all but a few alive. This however was a fabrication to keep the secrecy of house Sendu's true nature a secret. My ancestors; Nachael and Baurus Sendu were the ones responsible for the liquidation of the Scars. Most of the details were lost within history but the facts state that the Dark Brotherhood hired the brothers to exterminate the Scars due to Baurus' former service and hatred towards those that held the blood of Molag Bal. Only two survived the onslaught on Deepscorn Hollow, Greywyn himself and a Breton called Rowley Eardwulf, both were lost somewhere in the annals of history.​

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My family and I hailed from the ancient city of Dragonstar, which bordered on the south with Skyrim and High Rock. My immediate family (and only surviving members of house Sendu) consisted of my sisters; Tanyin and Iszara, my grandfather Armand and my mother Mariah. My father, Casimir, had died in Taneth at the end of an assassins blade in a dispute about an unpaid loan in 4E 199, I was twenty one at the time of his passing. The night of Tirdas, 7th of Sun's Height, 4E 201 is when everything changed forever. Myself and Armand always went on a great hunt at the end of every Second Seed; something that was wrapped up in family tradition. We would hunt everything from Elk, to stray Mammoth that wandered across the border from Skyrim, all the way to packs of Sabre Cats. After nigh on two days hunting, We arrived back at our family manor at 5:35 pm to a sight that would turn the stomach of Sithis himself. Blood lay everywhere, in and around the twisted corpses of what appeared to be my two sisters who had been savagely torn to pieces by some form of beast.​

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After calming myself down and fully grasping the situation, I noticed two small holes of both of my sisters necks; which to my Grandfather was unmistakable. "They've finally come" he mustered under his breath. Armand went on to briefly tell me that before the great war he and my father annihilated a pack of vampires who were located in a cave just outside Dragonstar. This pack was believed to be a scouting party of the Volkihar clan, searching for some form of ancient vampire relic within the caves deepest reaches. The head of this scouting party, Vingalmo, was the only vampire who survived the massacre. My grandfather went on to describe him in vivid detail; he was apparently a tall, sun kissed Altmer, with eyes that were glowing as if infused with the fires of oblivion, hair that was as deathly white it seemed Sithis himself has embraced the vampires locks. After a horrific onslaught of nearly fourteen vampire fledglings Vingalmo was near death. Before he disintegrated into a swarm of bats and fled, he vowed that one day he and his kine would wipe house Sendu from the face of Tamriel for their interference. The artifact was nowhere to be seen, as if there was nothing there to begin with, all that was there was a number of scrawled notes speaking of something called the Bloodstone Chalice, no such artifact was apparently ever recovered.​

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After a lengthy discussion of what could of caused the death of my two sisters, there was a disturbance coming from deeper within the manor, we went to investigate and came across two dog like creatures. They looked like death incarnate, black, sunken, necrotic flesh, a shiny collar comprised of some alloy that was unrecognizable to the naked eye, and their most compelling feature, the creatures were resonating an aura that seemed entirely formed of a twisted hybrid of winter and death itself. The beasts began to sprint at us; while I myself fell back with fear, Armand raised his warhammer and swung it in their direction, crushing the rib cage of the smaller of the two creatures, killing it instantly. The other creature didn't halt or stop in its tracks, no sense of fear or warning filled its eyes, they had clearly been designed for just one purpose, to kill. Armand, frail and exhausted from swinging the cumbersome hammer, realised he soon would be in a similar situation to the death hound he had just killed; before this thought had passed, the other had lunged at my incapacitated grandfather, knocking him to the ground. The creature viciously attempted to bite the larynx from my grandfathers throat, during the struggle, still overcome with fear, I rose to my feet and grabbed my grandfathers warhammer striking the creature, knocking it back before delivering the killing blow. I got through the fight without a scratch, however, my grandfather was not so lucky. the creature had pierced one of the main arteries in his neck, very rapidly was a crimson puddle forming on the ground from Armand's wound, he had literally minutes to live. I tried everything to stop the bleeding, but there was nothing I could do, I tried to make his passing as painless as possible but it was to no avail, he was dead. Before he died however; he rambled incoherently about how the clan was finished if I was to perish in Hammerfell, and that the bloodline of the Sendu would die with me if I was to not flee Hammerfell. He told me to head to Skyrim to find his Brother, and my great Uncle, Baral Sendu, someone I had not seen or heard from in over fifteen years. According to Armand's dying words, he would keep me safe and far away from any further retribution from the Volkihar. He apparently resided within an inn that he owned called The Stumbling Sabrecat which was within an old military fort in the west of Skyrim called Dunstad, the exact location however died with him.​

I had failed my family, surrounded by the corpses of my sisters, my uncle and the devilish hounds that savaged them all. I fell to my knees, everyone but my mother, Mariah was accounted for. I felt like joining them seeing as I had little to live for, I reached for a dagger I saw placed within Armand's waistband and was about to use it on myself when I heard a scream come from upstairs. I grasped the dagger, and followed the scream to the source of its origin. There lay my mother, her gaze was cold, as was the pale (by Redguard standards) hint of her flesh, the same marks that were on my sisters necks were branded on my mother, like a twisted brand of dominance. Before I could even think of committing suicide, he appeared before me. From my grandfathers description it was clear who was responsible for the massacre of my family. It was Vingalmo, the same vampire that my family almost destroyed over thirty years ago. I lunged at the creature, half filled with rage and the other with sorrow, I stabbed Vingalmo with my grandfathers dagger, piercing him until the blade was only visible at the hilt sticking out of his chest. Before I could remove the blade and strike again I was thrust away and slashed in the left side of my face with wind like reflexes, slashed with some form of poisonous claw the demon seemed to possess. My head hit the beam of my mothers chambers and I fell unconsious.

I awoke to the smell of smoke in my nostrils, Vingalmo was nowhere to be seen. The manor was on fire, Vingalmo had left me to die, hoping that the poison from his claws would of been enough to finish me off, little did he know that the Redguard possess a natural resistance to all types of deadly poisons, so it was my ancestry that saved my life but also destroyed it. Fate it seems, isn't without a sense of irony. I needed to flee from Dragonstar, my nemesis surely would have informed the authorities of the fire and would have no doubt tried to pin the blame on me. I grabbed the nearest stuff I could find, which consisted of a small Iron sword, and enough septims to book passage to Cyrodiil. I barely made it out of the blaze alive, I stopped for a few moments to catch my breath, which was short lived as a number of city guards came to my arrest. "Kelvyn of house Sendu, you are under arrest for the murder of your kin and the destruction of your family manor. Surrender peacefully, or we will put you down with fatal force" uttered one of the guards. I had no intention of surrendering, I wasn't going to rot in a dungeon for a crime I didn't commit, I was going to kill the very creature that thrust this massacre upon my family. I played along, until one of the guards was close enough for me to lunge my sword deep into his torso, I then pushed the corpse at the other two, knocking them off balance and made my escape.

I managed to evade capture, but it also meant two things that were hard to comprehend. I could never exonerate myself in my home city; I was going to be on the run for the rest of my natural life, that the days of house Sendu in Hammerfell were finished, once I fled I could never return. The city was on high alert, with the city guard on a manhunt looking for me. I managed to escape through an old tunnel network that ran underneath Dragonstar, I knew the network well as I used to play in them as a child with my childhood friend Alonzo. Alonzo was currently living in Elinhir, working as a blacksmiths apprentice, this was of course a legitimate front for his less law abiding activities. Alonzo was a smuggler, which was well suited seeing as he was the one who first showed me the complex sewer network which aided my escape. If anyone was capable of helping me across the border into Cyrodiil, it was him. I am about to head for Elinhir, which is easily over a weeks distance from Dragonstar. Alonzo was my only hope, I can only pray that I reach Elinhir before word of what happened here does.

 

[Cerberus65]

23rd of Sun's Height, 4E 201​

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Ten nights have passed since my family and my reputation were destroyed in Dragonstar. I made my escape on the night of Tirdas, 7th of Sun's Height, 4E 201. It took me six days to make my way across the West Reach, the journey was not the most pleasant of my travels, but overall was in no way the most strenuous. I arrived at Elinhir's gate at 6:06 pm on Morndas, 13th of Sun's Height, 4E 201. The next obstacle I faced was getting into the small city without alerting the guards to my presence. My business in Elinhir was short, I needed Alonzo to smuggle me out of the city across the Helkori Plains and through the border into Cyrodill. Finding Alonzo however would prove challenging, as I had not seen him in nine years. The Guards that next the city gate consisted of a Skeleton crew, two guards patrolling and one, out of shape oaf sleeping, due to consuming far too much wine. He was my means of entry.​

It was dusk, so sneaking closer to the gate would not have been an issue, getting inside however was a bit more of a challenge. I crept up on the sleeping guard and knocked him unconsious; after stealing his armor and helmet, I dumped him inside a transport crate that was due to head for Taneth; I was to be long gone before there was any repercussion, or before anyone would notice he was missing. I walked through the gate disguised as a city guard, without raising the slightest suspicion. Elinhir wasn't a very large city, but more of a last stop, trading port before heading into Cyrodiil. One of the major attractions of Elinhir is it's marketplace, which is the largest in all of the eight cities of Hammerfell. Near the back of the market I could see a blacksmiths cauldron, which was being closed up by an elderly Nord for the night, I had to ask him the location of Alonzo, I wasn't sure of what he looked like, but I knew he was a blacksmiths apprentice, and this Nord appeared to be the only blacksmith in town.

I caught the Nord off guard when he closed his house up for the night, he didn't see me slip in. He was startled at first, but when I indicated that I meant him no harm he calmed himself, and asked me to sit. He knew who I was right off the bat, it appears the story of the Sendu boy who murdered his family and a city guard was all everyone was talking about in Hammerfell, I explained my situation and he didn't seem to believe a word of what I had said, but agreed to help nonetheless. He ranted on about how the Nords of Skyrim and the Redguard's of Hammerfell were brothers of war, both being betrayed by the Empire, in surrender to the Aldmeri Dominion. I assumed he was making reference to the civil war that was ravaging Skyrim; something to do with the murder of the high king, and the condition of the White-Gold Concordat which outlaws the worship of Talos within the Empire. Regardless of the Nord's political standing, that's not what I was there for, I was there to find the location of Alonzo so I could flee from Hammerfell. The Nord told me of Alonzo spending his evenings after work at the local brothel down the street from the market, and that, that is where I would be able to find him.

I left the Nord's house and headed towards the brothel, still dressed as a guard. The street was quiet, as if under curfew, which is unlikely, due to curfews being put in place during a time of martial law, I then discovered why. It seemed the guards had discovered the drunk lying in the crate due for Taneth, and the city itself had been placed on lock down to try and find the person responsible. There was no way that the city guard were clever enough to make the connection the Sendu massacre and a knocked out guard, but nonetheless I wasn't going to take that chance. I entered the brothel, and saw that is was packed tighter than a Khajiit caravan, finding Alonzo here would be hard without some help. I approached the barkeep and asked if there was a young Redguard man entertaining one of the girls, he pointed me in the direction of one of the private backrooms where he was. He was there, alongside two imperial working girls who not only looked tired, but were not working of their own volition. I pretended to place Alonzo under arrest, so that I could get him outside the Brothel and at full attention.

Alonzo at first was putting up a fight as I dragged him out of the brothel and into the alleyway, (no doubt in fear thinking that his smuggling business was over) but when i removed the guards helmet, he stopped, still with shock. He couldn't believe it was me, and more importantly didn't seem hostile, which was a clear enough indication that he believed that I had been framed. he went on to speak of how he had not seen me in nearly 10 years and that it was good to see me, I returned the gesture, but got straight to the point of how I needed his help. I handed him a bag of three hundred septims, (the only money I could grab before the house collapsed with me inside) and told him that I needed to be smuggled into Cyrodiil so I could then sneak past the border into Skyrim. He understood that the border to Skyrim from north of Dragonstar is the first place that the guards thought I would go, therefore would of been heavily guarded, and to successfully get to Skyrim I would need to cross the Colovian highlands in Cyrodiil into Bruma, and then head through pale pass into Falkreath in Skyrim, it was the safest route to avoid detection.

He didn't bat an eyelid at the idea of helping me, which only reinforced the trust that I had him, there was however a problem. There were none of his caravans leaving Hammerfell anytime soon, due to the civil war in Skyrim and supplies not being worth the risk of smuggling. and the only way that he thought I could escape would be to be placed on the back of one of the commercial supply carriages due for the Imperial City. It was risky, but it was the only chance that I had of finding my uncle and making Vingalmo pay for what he did. The next morning came after spending the night at Alonzo's house in his basement, I was determined to get across that border and come that much closer into Skyrim. The carriage was parked and being loaded outside the city gate, Alonzo had a supply crate that he used to smuggle immigrants from Elsweyr with a back panel that was easily forced open to escape, and a peeping hole to see outside, crude but effective. It was in this crate that I would be smuggled into and then leave when the coast was clear, right in the Colovian Highlands right before the turn off into Chorrol. Alonzo lifted the crate with the help of the old Nord into the back of the carriage, the Nord being under the impression that it was a shipment of weapons heading to Cheydinhal, seeing as it also bared the insignia of his business. I bid farewell to my childhood friend, through the hole in the large crate and told him that I was never to step foot in Hammerfell again, he understood, and the Carriage began to depart for the border into Cyrodiil.

The night of Fredas, 17th of Sun's Height, 4E 201. I had been travelling in the box that Alonzo supplied to the carriage for over three days now, I awoke to the sight of the sun setting through the hole in the box, and could also tell that I was no longer in Hammerfell. There were lush green trees within an area of almost pure aesthetic beauty, teeming with wildlife, seemingly untouched by the rest of the troubles that spanned the continent of Tamriel. I was in the Colonial Highlands, far from the border of Hammerfell. I knocked open the loose panel of the crate and rolled out, hitting the ground sharply, the wounds on my face firmly hitting the floor, which led me to shriek from the intense pain. The carriage driver had looked back in response but saw nothing, as I had fallen into a bush along with the panel. I had successfully sneaked into Cyrodiil. I was ravished with the hunger, I had to find some means of sustenance or I would surely perish from starvation.

I made it further into the Highlands in search of food. I came across the remains of a hunter that looked like he had died of starvation and had been decomposing for over a month, but his bow (though simple and crude, but effective) and a quiver of about thirty or so arrows, I relieved him of these items. I went deeper into the forest, the only light coming from from the steady shine of Nirn's moon, to try and find some form of wild animal. I came across a lone Elk, I raised my bow and lined it up with the herbivores neck, and released; hurling the arrow forward into the Elk's eye killing it instantly. I made camp next to its corpse, cooked up some of the meat, and dried out some of the rest to make provisions that would last in the journey across the Colovians.

I touched down on flatlands again on the morning of Morndas, 20th of Sun's Height, 4E 201, after a strenuous hike across the mountainous regions of the Colovian Highlands of Cyrodiil. As I traveled further through the region I came across a shrine to some form of Idol, which clearly hadn't been used in a number of decades. The statue was little more than a mass of grotesque tentacles attached to a form of eyes and what appeared to be mudcrab claws hovering over the rest of the obelisk. after closer inspection, it was clear that this was a shrine dedicated to the Daedric prince of knowledge; Hermaeus Mora. I am one very familiar with Daedra worship, as my family have been devoted servants of the Daedric Prince of Life and Lady of Infinite Energies, Meridia; known to a collective few as the patron of vampire hunters. House Sendu never followed the usual doctrine of Redguard beliefs and customs, which usually consists of as a mix between the worship of ones ancestors and faith within the ancient Yokundan pantheon which stems from the ancient home of the Redguard, Yokunda. Meridia herself, hates all forms of undead, vampires included, which is why many an aspiring vampire hunter looks to her for guidance.

Three days had passed, and I had finally reached the gates of Bruma on today's date, Turdas, 23rd of Sun's Height, 4E 201 at 12:05 pm. The guards here were unaware of anything that happened within Hammerfell, so for the time being I was safe. Each continent manages their own crime so the chances of retribution from imperial guards for the murder of a noble house of Hammerfell was exceedingly unlikely, I was on the run as a fugitive no longer. Bruma, though cold was a quaint little city, which much like Skyrim was covered in a blanket of snow, so it was very unatural for someone who hails from somewhere like Hammerfell, which is arid and hot consistently all year round. I headed for the local inn, called the Jerall View, which was ironic seeing as it actually faced away from the mountains that towered over Bruma. I found a seat inside, sat down and took note of what happened the last few weeks. So here I sit, writing into this journal, not sure of what I actually intend to do, probably best if I equip myself with the tools of the trade, execute a plan of action, rest up and get ready for my hike up the Jeralls, through Pale Pass, and into Skyrim. There I will find my uncle, and the beast that destroyed all that I love.

 

[Cerberus65]

16th of Last Seed, 4E 201​

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It’s been just over three weeks have passed since I have written in this journal; during that space of time a number of developments have come to pass. I came to Bruma on Tirdas, 23rd of Sun’s Height, 4E 201 without a septim to my name, on the run for a crime I didn’t commit and worn out to the point of collapse. I stayed at the Jerall View that night until closing, and then decided to find shelter for the night in one of the nearby underground systems where the town vagrants lived. It was a cold, harsh existence down there, a living nightmare compared to the luxury of living in a noble manor for twenty three years. It was pointless worrying about such trivial things however, I was a noble no longer; any change of glory and fortune I had now lay in exterminating the beasts that survive off the blood of the living, the unholy spawn of Molag Bal.

The next morning I decided to go to Bruma’s library, (which was situated within the old Mage's Guild building) to do some further research into Vampirism. It turns out that Vampirism, (although comes from the same source) differs in many aspects depending on what part of Tamriel you are situated in, as stated in earlier entries there are many different clans of vampires within Tamriel, the clan that I search for is the Volkihar, that are reputed to reside somewhere within Skyrim. Vampirism is spread to mortals through wounds inflicted by a vampire, be it a bite, scratch etc. and depending on the person’s resistance to disease, has differing degrees of successful transmission; for example: a Redguard like myself, has a strong natural resistance to poison, which is how the disease Sanguinare Vampiris is spread into the person’s bloodstream, mine however was stopped in its tracks due to my heavy poison resistant blood. Sanguinare Vampiris is the most deadly strain of Vampirism inducing diseases, as it creates vampires that are able to travel during daylight, making them that much harder to identify; the disease is inherently native to Skyrim. Cyrodiil’s, and the rest of Tamriel’s vampires, are sired from the disease called Porphyric Hemophilia, which creates a vampires that are the same in strength to their northern counterparts, except for one weakness; they burn until death in direct sunlight.

I spent three solid days doing the same routine, researching vampires and discovering known covens within Skyrim; sooner or later I would find the location of Vingalmo, and destroy him. That night, on Sundas, 26th of Sun’s Height, 4E 201, a woman was found dead next to the chapel to the eight divines. I went to investigate the corpse after it was moved to the chapel under croft, and what I discovered was seemed like fate itself was testing me. It was a young Nord woman, beautiful and slender, she was clearly of noble descent; but as she lay there lifeless and as pale as the snow outside, there was something oddly familiar about her state of death. She had been bitten by a vampire, and drained of her life’s blood; the two small holes on her neck confirmed my suspicions. Once I had finished my examination of the young woman’s corpse I decided to speak to the chapel priestess about my conclusions and the next course of action to be taken.

I went upstairs to find the priestess healing some wounded imperial soldiers, no doubt wounded from the civil war in Skyrim. I proceeded to walk over and introduce myself, I gave the name Armand and told her about what I found on the young girls body, she was stunned, she believed Vampirism to be nothing more than a crude story made up by the guard to stop citizens leaving the city gates after dusk; I then proceeded to tell her that I was a hunter of these creatures, to which she almost seemed calmed at the notion. We discussed at detail about mysterious deaths in the past that have taken place in Bruma, apparently there have been a number of similar killings in the last few weeks, victims pale as the snow with two tiny holes on their necks. All of the victims were of Nordic blood, female and clearly from the upper echelon of society. This to me, was the work of one of Cyrodiil's unnamed vampire clan, who were experts at blending themselves into society and mostly fed on people while they slept in the early hours of the morning, this one however was some form of outcast, who rejected the ways of the Cyrodiilic vampire.

I offered my services in exchange for a few days room and board within the chapel, so that I could rest up before my hike up into the Jeralls. I began my search by heading into the inn that following eve, to search for any indication of a person or persons that might show characteristics of being a vampire. Sitting within the inn I expected to find something, I did not, nothing other than floods of nobles who were content on singing and dancing even though a creature of unfathomable darkness had infiltrated their ranks. I left the inn, insistent on finding something and then as I looked to my left was a young woman, lying on the ground again drained of all blood and with two tiny holes within her neck. This had been the fifth unheard kill in Bruma matching the same discreet brutality as the last, this would indicate that the creature was someone of a high status, being able to seduce the victim, through charm and class and seemingly make them unaware until it was too late. Promisingly she was still warm, meaning that the creature was nearby.

I searched for the creature that night, to no avail; as whoever it was, was an expert at clearing any trace of their presence. I returned to the chapel, and approached the priestess to ask a number of questions. I told her my conclusions from the nights search, and requested that she told me the names of any young looking nobles who were not courting anyone at the current moment. There were only two patrons matching this description; a Nord by the same of Hjrondir and a Breton man who had only been in town for a number of weeks. Hjrondir was from a rich clan that has populated Bruma for an age or more, so the likelihood of a coven of vampires living beneath Bruma was a minute one. The suspicion, (although I would check every source) lay with the young Breton man who had supposedly only been in Bruma for a few weeks. Five days passed, and from asking a number of members of Hjrondir’s family, I ruled him out as the vampire, Cyrodiilic vampires are not known for walking about in direct sunlight, and therefore Hjrondir was not one of them, due to his midday stroll around the local market, I did however discover some interesting facts about the Breton man. He was never seen outside during daylight, and had digressed very little as to his whereabouts and past; both keen indicators that he may be the vampire stalking Bruma.

It was the morning of Loredas, 1st of Last Seed, 4E 201, I decided to break into the Breton’s recently purchased property on the outskirts of Bruma; hoping to find something that would indicate that the Breton is the vampire. I had done some research into the Breton, as to where he came from; the records seem to indicate he came in on a carriage from the imperial city around the time I had just got to the gates of Elinhir, nothing suspicious unfortunately, only that the carriage stopped every morning at dusk until dawn according to the time frame. I had to be cautious approaching the house, as there was numerous bandits guarding the grounds of the manor; I could not kill these men until I was totally sure of their purpose, whether they were thralls guarding their undead master during daylight hours, or just hired goons made to protect the owner’s interests; thankfully that would be made clear when I found myself within the cellar of the manor. I managed to sneak past the guards by firing a few arrows at the house from a vantage point pointing away from the door, leading them to investigate where they came from, giving me an opportunity to sneak by and into the manor.

Inside the house were crates that were stacked all the way to the ceiling, resembling a labyrinth almost in form. They contained some form of earth from where I could only guess was Black Marsh, as it was very damp and smelt like swampland; the purpose of these crates however; was a mystery I would possibly never uncover. I searched around and discovered a number of journals on a table, they detailed the travels of the Breton man, several locations were mentioned, one in particular was gave a distinct sense of déjà vu; Deepscorn Hollow; the final resting place of the vampiric clan of assassins, the Crimson Scars; what I read next seemed almost too much of a coincidence. I finally discovered the identity of the creature to be none other than the survivor of the purification of Deepscorn Hollow; Rowley Eardwulf. Eardwulf was the vampire, he was human at the time of the "purification", which was over three ages ago, which was irrefutable proof as to his longevity.

I proceeded further into the house to discover a trap door hidden under a number of the crates containing earth from Black Marsh. I tried to move one, which fell and shattered, alerting the bandits outside. I readied my sword, and summoned a spell which was a lance of flames, projected from the palm of my hand (Redguard’s being trained in the destruction school of magic from a young age) and waited for their attempt to put me down. All three of the thralls fell swiftly at my hand, buying me complete freedom to execute the beast within the depths. I moved the crates with an unfathomable rage growing inside me, this was to be my first test to see if my family’s legacy was indeed mine to carry further; this would be my first slaying of a vampire. I dropped into the cellar, it was as black as the night itself, just enough light from the cellar door for me to notice an unlit torch placed in an opening next to the ladder, I engulfed the torch with flames and used it to proceed further into the claustrophobic corridor which seemed like an endless void. I eventually came to what I was searching for, a coffin. I proceeded towards the coffin with a uneasiness about me, my heart was pumping like I had the poison of a Basilisk in my veins, like I had just seen the mirror image of death itself. I opened the coffin, and there he was; Eardwulf, the same person who escaped from my ancestors all those years ago.

He was pale in complexion, but still very humanesque in features, (unlike Vingalmo who seemed almost demon like in comparison, possibly due to him being an elder vampire as apposed to one who was a fledgling in terms of time) no doubt the main ability of the Cyrodiilic vampires, being able to blend into society seamlessly. His skin was as white as the snow, and had a mane of raven black hair which was down to his shoulders. Before I could do anything, he had awoken. He seemed to sense that I wasn't a part of his brigand of thralls even before he opened his eyes, he lunged at me so fast that one would think he wasn't there, I was on the ground fighting for my life before I could realize the situation. I reached for my sword but it was out of reach, I had no choice but to engulf Eardwulf; potentially killing myself in the process; however this was not the case, as he flew back screaming in agony I reached for my sword and swung at him several times; the flames had disorientated him but had not in any way mortally wounded him. I grabbed the torch, he was nowhere to be seen, and with his lightning quick reflexes I would have been easy work if I was not on my guard. I returned down the corridor, eyes like a hawk on every corner of the darkness trying to find the creature. I heard a rustling up in the main complex of the house, I was to discover that he would try to ambush me in the makeshift maze of the earth boxes upstairs, I prepared myself and climbed up the ladder.

I shut the cellar door behind me and thrust a crate filled with earth atop of it; he was in this room, he would not flee to the cellar without my knowledge, and would not leave the house due to the sun, I had him right where I wanted him. I called him out, taunted him, told him of my family's involvement at Deepscorn Hollow back in the third Era; my intention was to draw him out, make him come at me carelessly. This it seemed, wasn't going to work. I searched slowly through the house, carefully navigating the maze; watching and listening for any sign of movement; it was as quiet as the night itself, not a murmur digressed the decibel levels I was listening out for; then suddenly out of nowhere he flew out at me, like he came out of the wall itself, and before I knew it he was gone again. I quickly equipped some of my arrows with the oily rag on the torch, drew my bow and lit the arrow; I had it raised so that when he appeared again I would strike with eagle like precision. Further in and still no trace, listening closely, staying low, I observed my surroundings and noticed that the top windows were boarded up as if to stop the sunlight from peering through and illuminating the entire hall. I blew out the arrow, and drew another from the quiver, I aimed high and fired at the wood blocking the window; the arrow pierced and replaced the panel with a beam on sunlight which hit the ground in front of me; I realised that this was how I was going to draw out the beast. I quickly fired several shots at the boards around the room; each one producing a beam of sunlight until nearly the whole room was submerged and bathed in sunlight.

I heard a scream coming from the farthest corner of the room, I located the source, and found Eardwulf cowering in the corner like a child who had just seen a ghost; sunlight was all around him, there was no escape. He glared at me, begging that I just forget about him; that he would leave and never return to Cyrodiil; I told him that I might spare his life in exchange for some information, even though I had no intention of doing so. I asked that he tell me all he knew of the Volkihar, and more importantly where I could locate them. He told me that the last known whereabouts were somewhere within the hold of Haafingar; which housed the capital city of Skyrim, Solitude. He knew nothing of the clan that I didn't already know, so I decided to finish what I had set out to do. He begged for mercy, I showed him none as I sheathed my bow and raised both my hands; summoning flames from my very palms. He let one last blood curdled scream before I sent him to Oblivion; the flames scorched and disintegrated his ancient flesh, leaving nothing but a screaming corpse; which with one final attempt at killing me lunged while on fire heading straight for the sunlight hoping to take me with him. I quickly unsheathed my sword and decapitated the screaming abomination in his tracks, leaving him to burst into dust leaving nothing to identify. I left the manor soon after and headed back to Bruma.

Upon my arrival back at the gates, I had noticed something odd about the city guard; they seemed to look me up and down as if trying to identify who I was. I walked past and inside the gate to see a group of Alik'r mercenaries talking to some of the citizens. It seems my time in Cyrodill was to be cut short, I raised my hood, and proceeded to head towards the chapel to inform the priestess of my success; and to try and change the parameters of our deal. I spoke at length with the priestess, who seemed overjoyed at the notion of the vampire rotting in Oblivion. I had no time however, and requested that she forget my face and point me in the quietest route out of the city. She could not understand my haste, but complied all the same; I gave no indication to who I was, I just told her that the warriors from Hammerfell were indeed looking for me, and that I needed to flee. I didn't mention that I was heading for Skyrim, for fear of her interrogation by the hands of the Alik'r. She let me escape through the chapel under croft, which housed a door which led outside the city gate; she thanked me for all I had done, and promised no matter what she found out, that she would not let it sour the deed that I had done for the city. I took my leave for the Jerall's, and she firmly bolted the door behind me. I traveled for two weeks up in the Jeralls after the events at Bruma; barely surviving, avoiding the Alik'r, up in the freezing cold heights that towered over Cyrodiil; I was so close to Skyrim, yet so far way. It was today's date Morndas, 16th of Last Seed, 4E 201 where I came to the statue known throughout history as the Sentinel. The statue, was a piece of history that has gone down through the ages, it was also a land marker which was used to navigate towards the old imperial fort of Pale Pass, which was alongside the path that lead into the hold of Whiterun, near the town of Helgen. I followed the route that was indicated, there was no signs of life up where I was, too barren and out of the way for anyone to be around. After a couple of hours, I came to the ruins of Pale Pass where I decided to set up camp for the night. I was finally here, less than a days walk from Skyrim; once morning comes, I will make the final push through Pale Pass, find my uncle; Baral Sendu, and destroy Vingalmo; maybe then I can find peace.