Madrar
The Shadow in the Dark.
Fall of Dawn
Fort Dawnguard
Koris Madrigan sighed as he sat at the grand table in Fort Dawnguard. The others at the table didn't share his dull expression, or surly attitude. The rest of the Dawnguard were in high spirits, believing that they'd hunted down and killed the last of the vampires months ago. Or at least, there had been absolutely no sign of any vampire in or around Falkreath, or any other part of Skyrim. Ulfric Stormcloak was now the High King, and once he'd been told of the lack of vampire attacks in recent months, the Nord had lost all interest in the Dawnguard. He allowed several of their outposts to remain in place near Dawnstar, Whiterun, and Falkreath, but no longer worked with them. As far as the population of Skyrim was concerned, the vampires had been killed or chased off, never to return. They didn't understand.
In the early years after the defeat of Salthar Vivarians' army outside the city of Whiterun, Koris had urged Ulfric and his own men to take precautions to stop another war. Ulfric had brushed him off, and many in the Dawnguard had come to believe that their leader was losing his grip on reality. After all, Koris Madrigan was nearing his sixtieth birthday, and had lead a long and hard life. Even Madrigans' second, Dinah Kahstor, was beginning to doubt the need for Dawngaurd outposts. Fearing for his friend and leaders sanity, he'd posted a pair of sentries outside Koris' chambers. They'd tried to make the wily old Breton believe that they were protecting him from vampires. However, Koris was no fool. He knew the sentries were really there to prevent him from leaving the fort, and causing trouble with the jarls.
When he heard of a ship, its' origin unknown (presumably Hammerfell,) that had been destroyed while docking in Solitude, he became even more nervous and irritable. He couldn't understand how the others, especially those that had fought beside him in the war had just dismissed it as a 'tragedy'. Then there was the string of disappearances trailing from Solitude to Markarth. Not mass disappearances, nothing that would raise public concern, but Koris noticed. Vampires were on the move, either heading into the wilderness near Markarth or headed for..."Falkreath" breathed Koris, abruptly standing and leaving the table in the middle of his meal, not even excusing himself. He had too much to do to waste words with those imbeciles! He stormed down hallways, barking insults at those that got in his way, a fire of urgency burning in his eyes.
He reached the war room, a place that hadn't been used for months, but a large map of Skyrim was still tacked to the wall. Lighting the torches in the room, he traced a route from Solitude to Markarth to Falkreath with his finger. It was certainly the easiest way to the Bloodlet Throne. Years ago, the roads would have been ripe with Forsworn ambushes, just waiting for a wagon or unwary traveler. The vampires had put an end to that when they'd moved into the Reach, waging a five month long campaign against the Forsworn, and eventually destroying their resistance. Now, the winding roads were littered with bones of the fallen. Markarth was a ghost city compared to the population it had enjoyed before the war.
After the destruction of the vast majority of the Forsworn tribes, a small army of undead, a former Forsworn vampire, had snuck into Markarth and killed almost every living creature. There wasn't even a siege. That vampire had declared himself king of the Reach, beholden to none, and had been assassinated by a vampire under Salthar Vivarians employ days later. Now, years later, people had moved back into the city, and populated the surrounding lands. Only to start dissapearing one by one. What concerned the old general the most, was the destination of the vampires. After Salthar Vivarian's death, at Koris' own hands, the Altmer vampires' coven had vanished like smoke in the wind.
The Dawnguard had managed to eliminate a few vampires that had the misfortune of finding poor hiding spots, or emerged and attempted to take power once again. A clatter, and what sounded like a grunt came from outside his door. "Those clumsy oafs" growled Koris, moving from the map to his polished oaken desk. Opening a drawer, he took out a thick packet of parchment, and set it in the center of his desk, lighting a candle at his right with a match. The name at the top of the first page was Salthar Vivarian. After the war with the vampires, Koris had toured Skyrim, searching for information on the Altmer vampire.
He'd learned that the elf had been a Thalmor justiciar, deployed to Skyrim in the early days of the civil war. He was stationed in Falkreath, rooting out Talos worshipers in the hold. Years later, Vivarian had murdered several guardsmen and soldiers, and then dissappeared for several months, before returning with a full coven of vampires .Vigilants of Stendarr began investigating, and tracked the vampires to the Bloodlet Throne. Then all but one of them were slain in an ambush. To Koris' knowledge, Salthar's coven, known as the 'Shadow Fang' coven, had no dealings with the Volkihar, nor did they seem to follow Molag Bal's customs. That was where the records ended. At least, the records not held by the Thalmor.
It was clear to Koris, and most of his commanding officers in the Dawnguard, had agreed that the Bloodlet Throne needed to be watched closely, even after Salthar's death. A fort had been erected, fort Snowstone, at the foot of the mountains near the path leading to the covens' base. It was manned by nearly sixty Dawnguard soldiers, and their commander, Danna Starflower, was the daughter of a Stormcloak general, who'd fought in the battle of Whiterun against the vampires. She'd been a sergeant in the Stormcloak army at the time. Her joining the Dawnguard, and her recent promotion made her a determined and vigilant warrior. There was an allied camp of Stormcloaks and Dawnguard soldiers near Riften as well, ready to supply reinforcements through a mountain pass. Ulfric and his generals wasn't pleased with the arrangement, and the drain on troops and resources, but he agreed, mostly.
Sighing, Koris stood and stretched. He was getting much to old for this garbage. It didn't help that none of his men actually wanted to believe that the vampires were returning. But after he proved it...there was another clatter, and something that sounded like a sigh. Loosing a sigh of his own, Koris turned to glare at the door. "Would you two buffoons be quiet out there!?" he shouted "some of us are trying to get work done!" It was silent, but an unnatural cold seemed to permeate the war room. Rubbing his hands together he went to the hearth at the wall opposite the large map. Stacking some logs and lighting them, he sighed as the heat from the fire warmed his surprisingly cold skin. 'Probably some fool left a window open' he thought sourly.
He turned away from the door, re stacking the papers, he straightened, and turned to look out the window, which looked over the mountains. A pleasant view, if not revealing much. A fog covered the leaf strewn ground, concealing much of the ground around the fort. A soft creak of hinges drew his mind back to the present. Turning angrily, he began to snap at his uninvited guest "What is it-" and broke off mid sentence. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by torchlight from the hallway, was an Altmer in Thalmor robes, customized with red stitching. The mers' face was a pale gold colour and his eyes were a gold red mix. Koris rasped out a single, word "you" Salthar Vivarian smiled and entered the room, the door closing without the Altmer touching it.
"General. You remember me, I'm flattered" the robed Altmer approached, his lips turning up in what seemed a genuine smile. Koris was far from convinced, and backed away, until his back was flattened against the wall. "You're supposed to be dead" he managed to grind out, noticing that the vampire didn't seem any worse for wear, after being dead for three years. "Oh come now, general, you didn't think something as mundane as a sword blade would stop me, did you?" The Breton whipped his hand down, drawing his sword in a moment. The same blade that had pierced Vivarians heart three years ago. Before he could even get within striking range, a tendril of blackness wrapped around the blade, and wrenched it out of the generals hand.
"That's hardly the way to greet an old acquaintance" the vampire admonished. His own ebony sword was in his hand, and the Altmer advanced at a casual pace. Koris opened his mouth, planning on shouting for help, but the Thalmor lifted a hand, asking for silence. Frowning, the Breton listened, and his heart sank. Screams and other sounds of battle emanated throughout the fort. The Dawnguard were under attack, and it didn't take alot of imagination to think who was behind it. "As you can tell, calling for help would be an excercise in futility" Salthar assured him. "You will fail. We will stop you" spat Koris, determined to defy the vampire lord. Salthar smirked "Ah, the courageous heart that never fails" the vampire was just shy of a meter away now. "A pity it beats within such a fool" he lamented, and stabbed Koris. The old mans' eyes bulged as the pitch black weapon pierced said heart. 'At least...I was right' he thought, smugly, his only regret was that he couldn't tell anyone about it.
***********
Fort Snowstone
A firebolt lit up the night sky, streaking towards the stars. Lucius Draconus nodded to himself, acknowledging the success of lord Vivarians mission. He turned to his force, thirty vampires, all armoured in ebony armour and armed with ebony weapons. They'd slunk down from the Bloodlet Throne, in ones and twos, to avoid attention from the Dawnguard patrols. Now they were all assembled, covered by the darkness of night. Lucius had been placed in control of the force because he'd been one of the first to rally to Salthars' side when he'd returned. This was his reward, and his task, to eliminate the Dawnguard garrisson. All eyes were on him, and the Imperial nodded, a slight smile on his lips. The vampires surged forwards, a tide of black armoured, silent, death.*************
Gorin Redhand, a middle aged Nord, fought off sleep. Barely succeeding, he continued his patrol, resting his crossbow against his shoulder, he strolled along the wooden walkway occasionally glancing down at the rocky ground below. There was one other man patrolling, or at least, he was supposed to be patrolling. Currently, he was slumped against the pointed wall. "Yanick!" He laughed, addressing his fellow Nord. "If you've fallen asleep on patrol again, the commander's going to have your head!" He grabbed his friends shoulder, and that was when he realized something was horribly wrong.
Instead of jumping to alertness with a start, the man slumped to the ground. Dropping to his knee beside his fellow Dawnguards, he turned the man over, holding his torch closer to the man. Then he fell back, gagging in horror as he realized that Yanicks' throat had been completely torn out. Only one creature left marks like that..."Vampires..." a sound, perhaps the sound of a boot heel on stone drew his attention. Peering over the wall, he gasped, seeing the black armoured warriors sprinting at a steady pace towards the wood-walled fort. He leaned away from the wall, opening his mouth to shout a warning, but found himself only able to wheeze, as a pair of black shafted arrows slammed into his chest. He slumped to the walkway, feeling blood leak from his mouth. The first sounds of battle reached his dying ears.
***************
Danna Starflower stood in the center of the camp,the Nord commander supervising her men going about their business. She wasn't overly tall, but what she lacked in height, she more than made up for in attitude, skill, and strategy. She had hazelnut brown hair, green eyes, and a small mouth, that was ready to curl up in a smile, or turn down in a fierce frown. Her hair was bound tightly in a ponytail, keeping her straight, long hair out her eyes. She wore light, Dawnguard armour, and a silver sword rested on her left hip, alongside a pouchful of metal crossbow bolts. Her crossbow was strapped to her back by a belt and a pair of hooks, which allowed it to remain secure, even during combat.
Beside her stood an older Nord, maybe sixty years old his name was Bjorn Steelhelm. He had no hair on his head, but his eyebrows and neatly trimmed beard were a steel grey. His eyes were a deep blue, and shone with intelligence. Instead of armour, he wore brown robes, and in his hand, was an oak staff, set with several powerful soul gems. The staff was able to shoot bolts of scathing energy, particularly powerful against undead. He also had several rings, and a pendant of Arkay. The rings added to his already large pool of magical reserves, while the pendant had a small influence against lesser undead. "Septim for your thoughts, girl" the old mage said, not in an unkind tone.
Danna turned her gaze on the old man. " Not much gets past you, huh, old man?" She said in a light tone, before returning to surveying the camp. "It's...too quiet. Usually there's night creatures, wolves, raccoons..but tonight" "Nothing" noted Bjorn. He swept his own gaze over the men patrolling the walls, then froze. Yannik and Gorin...they're gone" he said with stiff lips. Danna looked at the same area where at least one of the two guards should be. Nothing. "Sound the alarm!" She shouted, placing a bolt in the firing grove of her crossbow. "We're under attack!" Moments later, the first wave of vampires dropped from the walls, falling upon the surprised Dawnguard soldiers with swift and deadly attacks. Four men died in the first three seconds of the attack.
With a loud click Danna fired her crossbow, catching a vampire just above the rim of his armour. As that one fell to the ground, others charged, and were met with the disciplined Dawngaurd troops. However, the vampires had almost every advantage.
They'd nullified the sentries, and had the drop on Danna's forces. The Dawnguard were good but they hadn't seen action in months. For all they'd known, the vampires had relocated, out of Skyrim, possibly. Not regaining their numbers and preparing for an assault. "Bjorn, send the signal for reinforcements!" Danna ordered, setting her crossbow down and drawing her sword. The aged spell caster nodded, and prepared to cast, pointing his staff into the sky, and hoping the reinforcements that had been stationed just outside Falkreath were paying attention. Before he could cast, a blast of lightning struck him in the chest, knocking him to the ground.
The spell wasn't fully powered, and Bjorn realized that the spell had been just aimed to disrupt his own casting. Lowering his gaze from the stars, he traced the trajectory of the lightning to an Imperial vampire, with shoulder length hair the orange of flame. In his hand was a two sided sword, uncurved like the standard ebony weapons. In addition, he wore ebony armour as well. Danna stepped forwards, bringing her sword into a ready position, but Bjorn touched her arm lightly and shook his head ever so slightly. "I'll handle this filth, girly."He said, hefting his staff and chuckling. Levelling it at the vampire, he fired a bolt of golden energy at the mans' chest. The bolt struck...and did absolutely nothing. That was when Bjorn realized he was in trouble.
Danna, who'd wandered towards a vicious melee waging in the the eastern sector of the camp, glanced back at Bjorn. In time to see the long haired imperial vampire close with the Dawnguard mage. Bjorn held his staff diagonally, looking like he was trying to ward off a blow, rather than cast any spell. The vampire swung his sword, a powerful horizontal strike that sundered the staff, and slashed through the mages tunic, into the flesh beneath. Bjorn folded forwards, collapsing to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. The Imperial kicked Bjorn to the ground, looked up, and smiled at Danna. The Nord felt her blood turn to ice, and almost wasn't fast enough to block the savage strike from another vampire that had marked her as a target.
She stumbled backwards, her arm numb up to the shoulder. However, she was too experienced to die that easily. She turned her stumble into a backpedal, deflecting an attack from the central vampire, dodging a second strike from the right hand vampire, and launching a sudden strike at the third vampire. The gods must have been guiding that strike, for, by some miracle, the tip of her sword found a seam in the vampires armour, and pierced his heart. This, unfortunately, only served to infuriate the two other vampires, a male Dunmer, and a female Imperial. They launched a savage flurry of blades, knocking her to the ground. The woman stepped forwards, lifting her sword for a finishing blow. "Wait!" Shouted the Imperial vampire, the one that had killed Bjorn, and seemed to be the groups leaders.
The Dunmer turned her furious red eyes on him, instead. "She killed Singe!" She growled, probably referring to the dead Redguard vampire Danna had slain. "Then Singe was a fool, if he lowered his guard during a fight" snapped the leader. "Bind her hands, and bring her back to the fortress. I'm sure lord Vivarian will have some questions for her" he ordered. Danna felt a claw of dread grip her heart. 'Salthar Vivarian? Everyone said he was dead...' but then, everyone had said the vampires were gone, as well. The female dark elf looked like she might try to kill Danna anyways, but she simply snarled, and rammed her sword back into her sheathe, pulling some rope from her belt, and viciously binding the Dawnguards commanders wrists. Little did she know, Danna would soon wish she had died in the fort.
