Abberon and Serana walked into the castle, Abberon took in the sheer elegance of it. The very air screamed “regal”, and made him feel miniscule within its walls. To have left such an impression, surely the owner would not disappoint. The air smelled of blood, and the sinister nature of its occupants could be felt through the aura that equally permeated the space around them. For a moment, Abberon felt as if he could feel at home in such a castle.
The two of them were greeted by another vampire, a High Elf like Abberon. “How dare you trespass here!” he said, not immediately recognizing the woman who stood next to him. The moment he did, he was taken aback and changed his words. “Wait, Serana? Is that truly you? I cannot believe my eyes.” He turned towards the main hall to speak to the other residents of the manor. “My lord! Everyone! Serana has returned!” The others in the hall began to whisper and consort amongst themselves. From the sound of things, Serana was an important person.
“I guess I’m expected.” One would think that she would show more surprise to returning to her home that she had been away from for so many years. Countless years, in fact. But as it seems, time has very little meaning to a vampire. Of course, she herself said that this place held bitter memories, so of course she would feel little excitement upon her return. Still, the same could not be said for Abberon. He was so taken in by the surroundings that he almost failed to step forward when she did. As the two of them walked forward, he could see the main hall in full.
In the dimly lit area, blood, bodies and bones lay on the wooden tables and strewn across the floor. Vampires of different breeds were speaking and feasting, their gazes falling upon us, more so upon Serana than him. Around the area, two Death Hounds circled hungrily, gnawing at the bones spread around. Abberon had seen a few of them during his trip to Dimhollow Crypt, and a few times when the vampires attacked random Holds, but this was the first time he’d ever seen them so close without combat.
At the front of the far perpendicular table, there stood a man whose elegance stood out above the rest. As our gazes met, I could feel an intimidating glare that attempted to pierce my very soul. As he looked down to my side he saw the weapon he wielded so proudly, the Mace of Molag Bal. Abberon could almost feel his hostility, his alertness. He could only assume that this man was the lord of the castle.
But hostility is easily masked by words, and so he returned his gaze towards Serana and spoke. “My long lost daughter returns at last. I trust you have my Elder Scroll?”
Serana began to walk down the stairs towards her father, while Abberon walked down the opposite. “After all these years, that’s the first thing you ask me?” It would seem she was not lying when she said this place held bitter memories. “Yes I have the scroll.” The occupants began to chatter again, talking and whispering about the scroll. To Abberon, this was a most definite moment of intrigue. So her father was lord of the castle. This certainly was interesting development. And she’d been sealed away for countless years, but for what purpose? And why was she holding an Elder Scroll? Abberon’s immense curiosity began to eat at him, but he kept his calm.
“Of course I’m delighted to see you, my daughter. Must I really say the words aloud? Ah, if only your traitor mother were here. I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike.” Abberon raised an eyebrow. Traitor mother? Such an interesting development.
Her father’s gaze then turned to him, their eyes meeting once more. Abberon gave no hint of acknowledgement of his displeasure, looking only as confused as he should be. “Now tell me, who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?”
Serana crossed her arms. “This is my savior, the one who freed me.” Once more the crowd whispered amongst themselves. Suddenly Abberon had become the center of attention. Her father’s gaze turned into one of interest, as if he’d found a most useful blade from an armorer’s collection to use.
He then turned towards him, addressing him directly. “For my daughter’s safe return, you have my gratitude.” If Abberon could roll his eyes in his mind, he most likely would have. “Tell me, what is your name?”
He gave a bow and spoke with a humble, yet honored inflection. “My name is Abberon, your Lordship.” He lifted his head. “And you are…?” A well-rehearsed introduction.
“I am Harkon, lord of this court. By now, my daughter will have told you what we are.”
Abberon stood straight and answered. “From what I have heard and what I have seen, you are vampires. But not like any I’ve seen in Skyrim, or anywhere else. Something… greater…” The inflection this time was one of boot-licking, as if he were trying to remain on Lord Harkon’s good side. He gave an air of simplicity, acting weaker than he truly was.
“Your impression is quite correct. We are among the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim.” As he paced around, he expanded on this. “ For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world. All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most…” As he finished the sentence, Abberon could catch a glimpse of hatred from his face. Whoever his wife was, she had committed a heinous crime which may have lasted for uncountable years. Abbreron began to contemplate to himself what the crime could possibly be. Perhaps it was Serana, that her mother may have been the one to seal her away. Or perhaps, could it be something more?
Abberon had to know, and so he’d query. But not just yet. No, the answers would come to him sooner or later, whether Harkon permitted it or not. “So, what happens next? Do I get a reward for finding your daughter?” He hid his desires under the guise of petty greed, making sure as not to reveal that he had taken an interest in their life.
Harkon smiled. “I was about to suggest that very thing. Yes, you most certainly deserve a reward.” Of course, even with all that goes on it’s nice to receive things. Even Abberon couldn’t resist. “There is but one thing I can give to you that is equal in part to the Elder Scroll and my daughter. I offer you my blood. Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach and you will never fear death again.”
Now Abberon was really interested. The chance to receive the power from a powerful man like him is an immensely tempting offer, and yet he had a question about it. “But I am already a vampire. What more could you offer me?”
Harkon looked at him and chuckled, as if undermining his vampiric blood. “You contracted a disease, perhaps, but you are no true vampire. Accept my gift and I promise that you will learn the difference. Refuse me, and I will banish you from this castle. I will spare your life this once, but after that, you are prey." That there was a level of strength within a vampire greater than his current intrigued Abberon. But more than that, to be on the side of a powerful vampire such as Harkon was a profitable endeavor. Then there was the matter of the wife and the Elder Scroll. The possibilities where this could all head was far too exciting for Abberon to contain. And yet he still hesitated, for within this lord he still felt the gaze of displeasure in the back of his mind. This man could kill him later on once he felt he had no further use for him. How long that would be was undetermined, but it was enough of a negative to take into great consideration.
Harkon could feel his hesitation and continued. “Perhaps you still need convincing? Behold the power!” Before him, Harkon began a gruesome transformation heralded by a dark cloak. As he stood there, his body began to blacken, his body convulsing and twisting, until he finally burst from the darkness, having transformed into something greater. Upon Abberon, there stood a tall muscular monster with pale skin. His nails became claws with a sharpness that could part steel, and his eyes, pitch black as the night, gazed into Abberon’s, imbuing terror he’d never felt before. His face looked half man and half bat, with his wings stretching behind him. Even in this form, he was jeweled as a ruler, signifying his status as a Vampire Lord.
“This is the power that I offer! Now, make your choice!"
There was no choice. It was obvious what he would choose. Having seen this level of power standing before him, ready to lead him or kill him at the tip of a dime, Abberon could no longer hold back his inner feelings.
“I will humbly accept your gift, Lord Harkon…” He bowed as he spoke these words, so that Harkon could not glimpse upon the face he made. A twisted smile that crept upon his face. If this smile could speak it’s thoughts it would tell of mortals burning and homes being razed. Wanton chaos and destruction at the helm of a creature none of them could ever hope to understand or even defeat. As he finally managed to recollect himself, he restored his face and looked upon Harkon once more, his gaze once again being pierced by a malevolent force that sent shivers down his spine. Power. This feeling of desire for more power crawled through his skin, feeling as if it would burst out at any minute.
“Be still…” Harkon took Abberon’s body with his massive hands and buried his fangs into his neck. As Harkon began infusing his power into him, Abberon felt an immense rush within his body and his mind as if a monster had just invaded his systems. It rushed throughout his body, seeking the weak blood that had already taken residence, and devoured it, taking its place. His body convulsed and numbed as every one of his senses began to feel overloaded.
Following this, he promptly passed out.
Character Profile Here: http://tamrielvault.com/group/role-playing/forum/topics/profile-abberon-the-dark-sovereign
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