Tales of Blackwood: Undeath
Death. Death was something that no one liked or wished to see early. But life did deal unfair hands that way. One could die from an accident, an illness or an injury. Or perhaps that handsome man who gave you your daily mead in the inn had poisoned your drink, or that elf in the corner was really an assassin sent to kill you. For a few, death was not the end, but the beginning of their life... But whether that was their choice, was another matter
The Huntress was one such victim of undeath, however she had yet to decide if it was a curse or a blessing; 'Perhaps a bit of both', she often told herself. She was in her youth, a pretty and strong-willed Nord woman, when said undeath struck her. 'It sounds like an easy job', she told herself, 'What could go wrong?' Even now, she could remember exactly how it went...
She crept into the crypt, her crossbow already loaded and ready to fire, and her heavy armour clinking slightly with each careful and well-placed step. This contract will be a walk in the park, she told herself. Slay a few vampires, loot their treasure and be home in time to get pissed on mead, before doing it all again in a few days.
It had been snowing, as was the norm in Skyrim, and it covered every inch of the floor. She pushed through a set of ancient doors and into a burial chamber, lined with sarcophagi. Some had been opened, showing long-dead Nords with their prized weapons, while others had been popped open. The Huntress skulked by, eyeing them with suspicion.
A shuffling off footsteps caught her attention and two patrolling draugr, both wielding a shield and axe each, slowly came into view. They both yelled at her in the old tongue, one she couldn’t understood, and charged, still screeching.
She shifted back and fired her crossbow at the closest one, hitting him square in the forehead. He staggered back from the blow and collided with the other, just as she released the crossbow with one hand and tugged his axe away, that was then embedded in the injured one's chest.
The second was on her, but she was ready. Draugr were stupid after all. She ducked under his strike and spun, before retreating back to another section of the room. She ducked behind a sarcophagus as it growled and she loaded in a silver bolt -- very effective against undead. She poked out and fire in rapid succession, reloading, aiming and shooting with supreme speed. The zombie had barely taken four steps before he dropped dead.
The Huntress smirked under her hood and pressed on, going down a stone hallway and into more chambers. More draugr ambushed her, but they were dispatched with her sword and crossbow quickly. She cursed the fiends, as they were making her trek longer, and she was starting to get hungry.
After making her way up some stairs and across a bridge, she had found her prize. A vampire sat in a small room, his back to her. She could almost smell the blood on him... Even if he wasn't covered with it. She pounced and drove her sword through his heart, praising herself for coating it in garlic first. He screamed and two others came, Nords by the look of them. They opened their mouths wide and snarled animalistic sounds.
The Huntress was ready for them to attack... But it was not them who drove her to her knees. One ghosted up behind her and pounded her on the side with what felt like a battering ram. She flew a few paces and crashed onto the hard stone. She groaned in pain and crawled to her hands and knees, feeling where her ribs were broken and her armour caved in. She panted heavily and staggered to her feet, using the wall as support and looking back at the son-of-a-bitch who hit her.
There stood an armour plated man, who tossed his shoulders back and raised the huge warhammer threateningly. He snarled like the other vampires, who were crouched excitedly nearby, bearing fangs and with their claws drawn. The Huntress fumbled for her sword and drew it. She could barely breathe but her instincts were kicking it. Outmatched or not, she needed to take down these monsters! It was what she did... What she had always done.
The Huntress was a bounty hunter by trade, but her specialisation was vampires... She hated the bastards, who did nothing but be a pain to the world and prey on innocent folk as if they were cattle. She didn't know what started this hatred... But it was hatred nonetheless.
The hammer-wielding vampire (who the Huntress was calling Mr Hammer in her mind) seemed to assess her for a moment, before he strutted forward. A guttural laugh came from under his plated helm as he raised the warhammer high and aimed at the Huntress. It was only her dive and roll to the side that saved her from being becoming a puddle of bloodied pulp.
She turned as she landed, wincing, before she pained herself as him. Her weapon barely grazed Mr Hammer before he thrust his palm hard into the centre of her chest and sent her barrelling into a table. Blood spilled as she sliced her arm on the smashed wood and she could hear the other bloodsuckers catcalling in joy.
“No!” Mr Hammer ordered as one of them eagerly edged herself forward. “She is mine!” He made his way to the fallen Nord and paused. The armour-plated man laughed once more and dropped his hammer; head first, onto her bare hand. Her howls of pain came after there was a loud CRUNCH, and her vampire foes laughed and howled in tune with it.
The furious Huntress tried to ignore the throbbing pain and struggled to her feet, grasping her shortsword clumsily. Her thrust was pointless as Mr Hammer grabbed her wrist and flexed, making another snap echo about. His other hand then clenched around her throat and pushed her against the wall.
She couldn't breathe and she couldn't fight back. All she could do was look into those empty black pits the vampire had for eye slots. She thought of her family, her friends and the rest of the people she knew... A single tear leaked from her green eyes. She was going to die and no one would know. That was what scared her the most...
After another a brutal laugh, Mr Hammer spoke, “She has guts! Put her in the cage with the others!” He dropped her then, before slamming his fist into her face and making everything black.
After what felt like an age, the Huntress awoke on a bed of a snow, wearing only her underclothes and breathing heavy. She stared upward at the cold stone ceiling, but then furrowed her brow in confusion. It was in so much detail and yet so far away. She sat up and looked around her, rubbing her forehead.
Near her sat an armoured being, every inch of skin covered by played metal, except for his chest, where a warhammer was smashed though his ribcage. The Nord crawled to him and gazed down, her mouth forming a small 'o' of shock. She touched the hammer gently, feeling the touch of dust on the handle... This had happened a fair few hours ago.
The Huntress grew even more confused as she touched her cheek. It was so cold and yet she barely felt it... This was not simple Nord genes, something else was going on. She tried to remember, wracking her brains but she had nothing. An empty mess of blurry colours clouded her vision and she swore loudly.
A vampire. She was a vampire. She screamed and shouted, feeling nothing but hatred for her being. She stood and kicked a wall, leaving an indent, before she strode over to the dead man and stomped in her head. It was his fault! She kept saying to herself. He did this!
After her rage, she fell back down and breathed heavy, her head in her hands. She was an outcast, a freak, a crime against nature! A creature of the Daedra, a night walker, a beast! She tried not to cry but a few tears fell from her now bright gold eyes.
The Huntress sat there for a whole, after wiping away the tears, and started thinking. She was a sin against Nirn, yes, but perhaps... Perhaps she could use her new power to hunt down other vampires, hunt down those who infected others like she had. Something soared in her chest and a new found determination was embedded in her soul.
She searched the room and found a knapsack against a wall, which she emptied. A few bolt packs fell out, which she took, and a journal. Was this hers? She touched the name embodied on the leather cover softly and nodded. Yes, she would take this name.
Her name was the Huntress. And she was a vampire.
~ Tales of Blackwood ToC ~
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