Chapter Text
[4e202] 20th of Heartfire
Alaric
Alaric slithered through the halls of the crypt. He stalked their souls; quiet, his tongue flicked, his lips forming the words of dead ages. He saw them through the walls, he heard them breathe, and he melded into the fabric of this world, he could almost drink them in. None were given the chance to beg. He was too far gone into the pattern of the catch and hunt.
And when he didn't slither, he flew. The ancient crypt shook with his shouts, and parts collapsed to the echos that followed them. Time slowed, the air boomed, fire blew, ice shattered, waists and heads cleaved. The vampires started to flee without question, news being spread from the few that slipped. Something was hunting them, and they didn't know what it was.
The halls of old kings shook again; an ancient being born again. That was all they knew. And he relished in the submission, when they drowned in his being, when their entire will was submit to him, when their senses all focused on him. His lungs stretched a pleasure everytime his breaths took them in deep, arousing all parts of his body and spirit.
He pierced so deep into the cavern, that he eventually stumbled upon an underground lake. By the the time he stopped, he'd been covered in gore. His chestplate and helmet were off him, thrown sometime when he needed the speed. He licked his lips. His attention turned from flesh, to the flesh of the rock. He scavanged the loot that some of the vampires left behind.
He was in a room adjacent to the underground lake. It was high atop it, a cervical lookout, that gave view to ancient structures that surrounded the shore. In the middle of the lake, was a ciruclar platform, more peculiar and more unique than the rest.
Alaric's breath whined like a hound, still hungry. His head swayed, his eyes bounced for his next meal. He would stop ever so slightly to scout the souls around him. There were only a few people by the lake he needed to finish.
But they didn't seem to notice him, so he focused on the treasure, shoving his hand into their bags and chests, and tugging out gold and artifacts. He stuffed them into his satchel. Without anybody to make him conscious of what he wished to do, he could be himself. The urns of the old tombs weren't absent his hunger as well. He wished he could eat the gold, as much as he could eat flesh, and as much as he could eat those he loved.
He heard talking outside, by the lake.
"We're going to try one last time, mortal." A voice. Male. Haughty, if noble. A vampire for sure. "We need you to tell us now, or you'll die painfully and slowly."
"I'll never tell you anything, vampire." Another man said, weak, "My oath to Stendarr is stronger than any suffering you can inflict on me."
It was Adalvald. It had to be.
Alaric stuffed a gold necklace into his satchel, and scrambled over to check a different chest. He pondered on whether to reuse a sack.
"I believe you, Vigilant. And I don't think you even know what you've found here."
There was the sound of violence. Adalvald gasped, "Peace at last..."
"So go and meet your beloved Stendarr." The man said.
A silence.
There was a third person. "Are you sure that was wise, Lokil?" A woman, "He still might have told us something. We haven't gotten anywhere ourselves with--"
"We can't leave him when the intruder comes, and we can't return without it. Vingalmo and Orthjolf will make way for me after this." Lokil said.
"Yes, of course Lokil. Don't forget who brought you news of the Vigilants' discovery."
"I never forget who my friends are. Or my enemies. Let's prepare lest the intruder catch us off guard."
Alaric put the crossbow over the ledge. He aimed it, and shot. It hit the woman in the head, and she dropped.
"What?" Lokil said, jumping away.
Alaric struggled to put in another bolt while Lokil came rushing up the steps to the lookout. He stuck his tongue out. He wanted to see if it worked. But it was too late. Lokil found him, stepping onto the final flight.
"Ah ha!" He said.
Alaric looked at him, "Yol Toor Shul!" He said. A rage of flame blew from his mouth, and engulfed Lokil. His skin lit like napalm, and he screamed. Lokil stumbled around, searching with the flame obstructing him, for the lake.
Alaric reloaded his crossbow bolt and aimed at him. He got him in the neck. The vampire fell down the staircase and wriggling while he burned, silent and gurgling from the shot in his throat. Alaric reloaded again, swearing to himself. He aimed it at his head, and shot, putting him down.
He wiped his forehead, that was far more messy than it needed to be. He watched the vampire's body curl and cook from the heat. When he was sure the thing was dead, he took in a deep breath, "Laar Rath Sil!" He said, and shouted water, dousing him.
He went forward and checked his body, and found nothing valuable, then headed to the other bodies below.
He found Adalvald's body and fixed it. "It's you, I believe." He said, "I apologize for coming late. Tolan came looking for you, but he didn't make it. I'll place your necklace at a temple with his. I'll try to return for your body, if I can. If not, the other vigilant will know where I found you." He grabbed the necklace off, if a little hasty, and stuffed it into his overfull satchel, tying it tight with his ribbon, "Your captors are dead. I have avenged you. What else?" He looked around, "Greet Tolan in heaven, if you can. He cared for you deeply." He went over to a book on the ground, near him. He checked it.
It indeed did confirm that the body was Adalvald. He read the book quickly, glancing around. There was something peculiar in the ciruclar platform in the center of the lake, everytime he whispered for other auras. A single being was tucked under the rock. He thought it may be someone hiding, in which he pined to let them go. He'd come over his bloodlust, and sought to repent his loss of control.
But the being didn't move.
He read the book again. He'll deal with them later. He headed to the the platform, a little perked to the change of architecture now.
He crossed the bridge.
The platform had two rings of arches covering. One around its edge, and another around its center. There was also three rings of small shallow troughs, with spokes of troughs going through them radially from the center. What he thought were fires braziers stood on the intersections between the spokes and rings. He inspected them, then headed carefully to the cneter, where a small hexagonal pedestal was raised, with a strange button on top of it.
He looked at it. The urge to do something dumb came over him. He looked around to see if any traps could show themselves. He looked for holes in the ground, and around. What could harm him that he could't handle? He pressed the button, and looked around.
A spike wen through his hand, from where he pressed. He cried out in agony, and pulled his hand from it, and grabbed his hand, swearing to himself.
Alas.
A purple glow emanated from channels, and so he hurried away from the platform, to the edge near the lake. He stayed, groaning, and holding his hand. He cast a quick and lazy heal spell on himself to make the bleeding stop. And it did. Thankfully, there was no gape in his hand. The spike was smooth, and thin. He stopped casting healing, and wiped his forehead.
He waited, and waited. And waited. Nothing changed. He stepped back. He guesesd that the device was a blood lock of some sort, not unlike the one in Sky Haven Temple. The question was, why did it activate for him?
He saw the light go through the channels till it stopped at one of the braziers, from which a purple fire now magically blew. He headed to it, and noticed the handles. The light from that Brazier then led to a different node.
It was a simple puzzle. His first attempt was his first success at it, and shoved the last brazier into place until all the fires were lit. The braziers sunk into the floor, and the rings around the center shook. They all fell into a staircase, going deeper into the center.
The coffin opened, and there, inside, was a woman, standing. She was pale. Her hair was black and short to the bottom of her neck. On top, two locks of hair were braided into a crown. Her arms were crossed over her chest, over a tunic, leather armor and cape; of red and black.
But what struck him was her beauty. She looked sharp, mature. The beauty of an ancient statue, kept pristine and fair through the ages. She opened her eyes and gasped, falling forward.
The color of her eyes glowed.
Vampire.
He grabbed her by the throat with his bloodied hand and shoved her back into the coffin. He brought up the crossbow to her forehead, and glared at her. Her eyes stopped glowing, and her face became marked with an innocent, childlike fear. His heart fluttered.
It gave him time for his eyes to float behind her. Strapped and peaking from her back was one thing he never imagined seeing again: An Elder Scroll.
