Hey fellow Skyrim players, this is my first story on this site, but I am really interested in this story. The happenings of this story are going to happen after the events in the Elder Scrolls V Skyrim. Later on if y'all like the story I might need some help with the other continents and the environments and people in the continents. Enjoy the story!
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(Cyrodiil, 1 year after the Civil War in Skyrim, and the Dragonborn's fight against Alduin and the vampires)
"Hey, Griv. Got any stories today?" asked an Imperial named Horst. Griv, a gray haired old man, was known for his ability to tell stories of his adventure's and the adventure's of others as well. Griv always wore tattered black robes that covered most of his body. He looked to be in his late fifties and yet he had an aura of power to him, a holy kind of power. Maybe that's what Horst liked most about him.
"I always have a story. What kind will it be today, Horst?" asks Griv with a small smile. He loved his stories.
Horst sat back and thought about it. Horst is an apprentice blacksmith for the Imperial Legion, and because of the constant work at the forge, he has an arm the size of a tree trunk. He could easily break a man's neck by just smacking him. But Horst was a kind hearted young man. He was in his twenties so the world had yet to impact him.
"How about I tell you the story of the Dawnguard?" asks Griv.
Horst asks curiously "The Dawnguard? Who is that?"
"Not who, what. The Dawnguard was, and I believe still is, a group of fierce vampire hunters. Contrary to popular belief, vampires are real, and are still a great danger to all of Tamriel, except for maybe Skyrim. They have the Dawnguard to based there." says Griv, trying to pass on some wisdom to the young man.
"If the Dawnguard are so honorable and great, how come no bards sing tails of their deeds, and why are no stories written of them or the members?" questions Horst.
Griv was taken back by the question. He himself was a member of the Dawnguard. He still remembers the adventures he had with his friends Isran, and the vampire Serana. All the pain it caused him, all the scars he got, and all the things he had to kill to save the sun itself. Why haven't the bards told tales of it? Surely it was a worthy tale to tell. "I don't know boy... I just don't know..." Griv states solemnly.
Horst is about to start saying something, but the door to the inn opened, and everyone stopped speaking and all got quiet. Someone wearing a black robe and cowl that covered his entire face walked through the door. The man walks across the old wooden floor making no noise at all and sits down at a stool next to Horst and orders a tankard of Mead. Everybody would usually go back to their business after they realize the new person isn't a threat, but everyone still watched him, it was an eerie kind of silence. The man had a dark, unnatural aura about him, and some of the younger men were frightened by it, and had their hands on the hilts of their daggers. But Griv was looking at the man more intently then anyone else.
"Where you from stranger?" asks Griv, his voice seeming friend but has a secret menace behind it.
"Kvatch, its southwest of here." replies the man, his voice as dark as his robes.
"That's quite a journey from there to the Imperial City now isn't it? Where you heading to?" asks Griv.
"Whiterun in Skyrim, I got some family up there and things was going bad for me back in Anvil." replies the man, this time his voice is completely monotone.
Griv got he wanted, the man had made a mistake. "Didn't you say beforehand that you were from Kvatch? Not Anvil." Griv's hand was hovering over the hilt of his blade.
"I would leave me be old man, I wouldn't want to kill an elder now would I?" menace was full force in his voice.
"I know what you are, and you will not get out of here alive vampire!" shouts Griv standing up to his full height. All the appearance of age had disappeared from his body. He looked to be in his prime, big and strong as an ox. His blade, which no one in the inn had seen before, was out and pointed straight at the vampire. The blade itself looked to be made of bones. Dragon bones though Horst. Griv was a deadly sight indeed.
"I guess I do have to kill you if you know what I am." A cold deadly monotone had took over the vampires voice. The vampire pulled his sword out, which was made of elven material, and pointed at Griv.
The two did not speak, but instead started circling each other, trying to find a weakness. Griv looked at the vampire with a deep burning gaze, he has the ability to read peoples fear thanks to many great books. The vampire seemed to be most afraid of the thought of his own death, and what happens afterwards. Just one cut, no matter where will send him into shock, and then I can kill him really easily thought Griv. The vampire looked at Griv and saw him as meat, not thinking him a challenge he stepped forward with superhuman speed and swung his sword with all his might as if to cut off Griv's arm. The move was easily parried, the movement almost seemed effortless for Griv, instead of swinging his sword at the vampire, he decides for the quicker move, and just straight up punches him in his jaw, knocking the vampire back.
"You petty Imperial! I will kill you twice for that one!" shouts the vampire. The vampire waits till Griv comes close enough to him and swings his left hand out, the one without the sword, at a speed that makes it impossible for anybody to see, except for Horst, because everything seemed to be going in slow motion for him. He saw every detail of Griv swinging his blade around and cutting of the hand just inches away from his face. The vampire screamed and dropped to his knees. Griv wasted no time and thrusted his sword through the bloodsuckers neck. It's body went slack and Griv kicked the body off his blade and watched as the last of its blood pumped out of its neck.
"Everyone be quiet I need to concentrate so I can burn the body." Griv tells everyone. He puts his hands on the monsters chest, and goes into the deep recesses of his mind and taps into the pool of Magicka he has saved up and whispers "brann" (fire in Norwegian). The body goes up in flames.
"Once the body is nothing but a pile of ash, sweep it up and put it in a burial urn. Even vampires deserve to rest in peace. I need to leave Cyrodiil. I am needed elsewhere. Thank you all for your hospitality and friendships, I will never forget it. Farvel." Griv tells everyone in the inn.
"If you are leaving, I am coming with you." says Horst.
"If you come with me, then the Imperial Army will call you a deserter, and you will have a bounty on you. Are you willing to live the life of a fugitive?" Griv asks, even though he knows he can't change Horst's mind.
"Yes I am, I cannot let you go off alone. You are my friend, and mentor, it would not be honorable to let you leave alone." says Horst. For the first time in life he seems to have found a purpose.
"Then be ready by the break of dawn. We leave then." says Griv. Even though he hides it, he is glad Horst is coming along.
*end of chapter, to be continued*
This is my first part of the story, and my first post here so any comments, suggestions or really any advice or compliment would be very appreciated. Thanks for taking your time to read the first chapter!
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