Biography of a Shadowscale -- Chapter 3: Escaping the Shrine

• Posted by Shadowscale August 23, 2012 - 760 views

       At first, I basked in the power that being in his presence bestowed, but then my head started clearing. I thought about what I knew about Molag Bal and his history. Having thoroughly studied the history of the vampires after becoming one, I knew of our origins. Of the torture Molag Bal had unleashed upon Lamae, our Blood Matron. I felt her anger flow through me as surely as Molag Bal's and I unleashed retribution upon his shrine in her name. Then I turned on the vampires who had watched my actions with anger and annihilated them. The master vampire had an artifact of Molag Bal's that I recognized, from the carved designs, as his mace.
       I took the mace to the remains of his shrine and smashed it through his stone skull, the strange energy disappearing instantly as the mace vanished and an odd noise sounded through the ruin. The noise increased in volume, becoming recognizable as a scream. The volume continued to increase until the cavern was shaking and columns were collapsing. The vampires located throughout the ruins must have known where the sound was coming from, as I was soon surrounded.
       I twisted and turned, skewering vamp after vamp upon my blade, but I was outnumbered and the cave was collapsing. I ran for the exit, killing vampires along the way, and as I neared the top floor, the stairway collapsed behind me. I took that moment to catch my breath, listening to the vampires below scream as the ceiling came down upon them. Apparently all the vampires in the ruin had come after me, as there were none remaining in the ruins.
       I returned to my camp and slept until the next night. Refreshed, I returned to my home upon Orphan Rock. On the way home, I realized that I was now tired of all the snow and cold that defined Skyrim, and I decided to move south, into Cyrodiil.  I left my home and traveled to the Imperial City, where I purchased a house in the Elven Gardens district.
       I lived here for several years, making friends and helping the locals with problems. The city began to recognize me as a warrior, someone to call to for help eliminating bandits, highwaymen, vampires, or any other dark beings. Thankfully, I had the northern virus for vampirism, and could therefore walk in the sunlight. While uncomfortable, it made sure the locals didn't suspect what I really was.
       One time, however, I became at a loss for food. I hadn't had requests for weeks, and I refused to feed on the locals. I ended up sneaking out of the city in the night, taking extra care that nobody saw the affects starvation had on me. Granted, being a lizard made it hard to tell anyhow, but still. That night I raided a bandit hideout and decided to use their empty wine bottles to store their blood. Now I could feed whenever I needed to without worrying about sneaking about.
       It had been thirty years since I had gotten my revenge, but thanks to my scales, the locals couldn't tell that I hadn't aged a day. I was living a flawless life, with enough friends and hunting tasks to keep me happy. This all changed one night, however, when I dreamt a dream of darkest darkness. Sithis was calling me.