Of the Wolf and his Sheep
Fenora walked out of the Thaumaturgist’s Hut with four bottles of potion concentrate in her pack. She sighed to herself as she scanned the dull grey surroundings of the town, knowing what she had to do, and it would start with catching up to Stross.
It didn’t take long to find her changeling; he ran into her first in fact.
At first Stross begged her for more time. He rambled about how much he’d already found out, and stressing the direness of the situation, and the extent of Alva’s influence on the town.
He’d learned the story of the burnt down house from Jarl Idgrod, how a local woodcutter named Hroggar lost his wife and daughter in the fire. The guards reported it as a tragic accident caused by an overfed hearth. But rumors had floated from ear to ear in Morthal, rumors that framed Hroggar as starting the fire on purpose. And unlike most gossip, these rumors had solid reasoning.
Days before the tragedy, Hroggar had been seen visiting Alva’s home frequently, spending long nights with her and even talking about her as though he weren’t a married man. After the death of his family, he seemingly showed no remorse or guilt over his loss, all too happy to begin living with Alva and go on with life as though nothing had happened.
Stross could make a guess as to what was really going on though. Alva wanted Hroggar all to herself, (either for his blood, his body, or both), but his family was in the way. An unfortunate accident would be just the thing.
“It’s just like in Equestria. It’s easy for changelings to force a breakup or divorce between ponies so they can catch one of them on the rebound. Some will even risk switching disguises to hook up with both at once. ‘Doubling your winnings’ they call it.” Stross explained with a biting hatred in his voice, “And that’s when they’re feeling patient. Most of the time, murdering one half of a pair is just a quicker method, and consoling somepony in their time of grief doesn’t hurt their chances either.”
Stross hated Alva for stooping so low to get what she wanted. Even worse, she clearly had no plans on stopping where she was. She didn’t just want one person to feed on, she wanted the whole town. Hroggar was just her first step, her foothold. And pretty soon she’d have everyone in Morthal as her banquet.
Stross only grew more determined to put a stop to it all while he shared what he’d learned with his friends.
For Fenora, it was almost painful having to dash his enthusiasm.
“Stross, I’m sorry.” She told him. “We can’t stay here to help these people.”
Stross opened his mouth to protest, but Fenora talked over him.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, but what do you think we could do? I’m screwed if I have to go up against Alva and her freaky vampire magic. I'd be dead before I even got my sword out.” Fenora told him with a sigh, “I’m sorry Stross. I know you want me to care more about people, but I have to know my limits. Next time… When I'm stronger, I promise that next time I’ll stay and do everything I can. But I’m just no match for-“
“Is that it?”
Fenora balked for a second at Stross’s question.
“If Alva’s mind powers are the only thing keeping you back, then don’t worry. I’ll deal with her. All you have to do is follow my lead and look pretty.” Stross said and rubbed his hands together as a smile formed on his face. “I’ve got the perfect plan.”
"What plan?" Fenora asked, to which Stross just giggled evilly. "Stross! Talk to me. What the heck are you thinking?!"
Fenora liked to think she knew Stross alright by now. She realized he was goofy and naive at times, but sometimes he showed a surprising amount of insight. There were times when out of nowhere the changeling would come up with ideas, so strange yet brilliant it astounded her.
This was not one of those times. This was the opposite of his brilliance. This plan Stross came up with was pure, solidified stupidity.
But it was too late to turn back now, and so Fenora just stood there, holding her face in her palm as they stood on the doorstep of the very vampire she’d hoped to avoid at all costs.
“I’m sorry… come again?” Alva asked in a bored-sounding tone.
“I want to join you! Fellow vampires unite!” Stross said with a big smile full of pointy teeth.
Alva stared at him blankly for a moment, and when she realized he wasn’t kidding she allowed herself a small chuckle. It lasted barely a full second before she looked Stross dead in the eyes and told him, “No.” and slammed her door in his face.
But Stross had come too far to give up that easy. He was going to do whatever it took to keep Morthal safe from her clutches. And so… he knocked again.
Once again Alva opened the door, looking far less amused than before. She glared down at him as though waiting for his excuse for wasting her time.
“What if I said… pretty please?” he asked and batted his eyes.
Alva frowned and grit her teeth. But surprisingly, she stepped aside and beckoned then into her home.
From the outside, Alva’s house looked like any other in Morthal; it was simple, made of strong wood walls and a thatched roof, built on supports to keep it off the soggy ground. But inside told so much more about her; finely crafted furniture with expensive silk coverings decorated the room, and bags of coin lay spilled across their surfaces. A small bookshelf in the corner housed more bottles of alto wine than books, and placed here and there were candle holders carved from mammoth tusk and inlaid with gold. Clearly Alva liked to enjoy all of life’s little decedent pleasures.
The sound of heavy breathing drew their attention to Hroggar.
He sat near a set of stairs leading into a basement. His eyes were blank and expressionless, and every so often he would droop uneasily forward in his mindless daze, a constant victim of Alva's mind control.
Alva motioned our heroes to some seats near the opposite end of the room. “Sit.” She commanded.
As the heroes took their seats, Alva looked over the two mortals first before honing in on Stross. “Well fledgling… you have gained my attention, so speak. Why should I be bothered to include you in my activities with this town and risk everything I’ve worked so hard to accomplish? Keep in mind that I was here first, and so far you’ve been nothing but an annoyance.”
Stross took a breath and slowly let it out. It was time to nail this.
“Because you need me. I know I don’t look it, but I’m a skilled infiltrator, better than any in this world I’d wager. I can go anywhere, do anything…” Stross stood up, and in a pulse of red embers shifted his form to that of an Imperial soldier, then again to a Stormcloak, “be anyone.”
He saw genuine interest in Alva’s eyes for the first time. Now was the time to add a dash of fear. His form shifted again until Alva was staring at a mirror image of herself.
“And wouldn’t it be tragic if all your work was for naught because ‘you’ decided to reveal yourself to a town of paranoid, angry fishermen?”
Alva’s eyes shot open wide, and her lips peeled back into a bestial frown. “Why you little- You dare to threaten me in my own home?!” she hissed.
At her words, Hroggar lurched up and took hold of an axe. Fenora and Lydia rose and drew their weapons to follow suit.
Alva snarled in Stross’s face, “I could kill you where you stand.”
Stross kept the steely look in his eyes and the superior tone in his voice. “Hmph, you could try. Just as I could try to kill you. But I won’t.” he said, shrugging casually. “It would be a waste if either of us died, especially when we could accomplish so much more by working together.”
He stepped back and made a sweeping motion to the items decorating her house. “I can see you enjoy the wealth that comes with conquering these mortals, but your goals are far too small for a woman with so much potential. You talk about Morthal like it’s some grand prize, but if you to made use of my talents, all of Skyrim could be yours. I can help you attain all you wish to possess, and more. All I ask in return... is a chance to prove myself, to earn my place at your side while we watch the world bow before us.”
Alva tapped her chin in thought, appearing to mull over the pros and cons. But Stross was certain that he’d convinced her. He presented himself as either her greatest ally, or worst enemy. The choice was obvious. All she had to do was go for it.
“Very well. You have captured my interest." She said finally. "But before you jump for joy I must test your loyalty to me.”
“What do you wish me to do?” Stross asked and took a knee, noting how Alva smiled when he did.
“There is a wizard in this town by the name of Fallion. The villagers treat him with scorn for his practice, but I have seen the truth. He wishes to create a cure for vampirism, and he is close to the answers he seeks. I cannot allow this.” Alva said with a bite in her voice. “Fallion already suspects me and has set up countermeasures to protect himself. I would have sent Hroggar to deal with him were it not for that Jarl, Ravencrone, watching my every move. However…” she grinned, “If a certain outsider no one had seen before were to dispose of him, and then vanish without a trace, well then...”
“So you want me to murder him.” Stross summed it up.
“Discretely… if possible.” Alva stressed, “I don’t need another scandal like with Hroggar’s family. Do this for me and I shall consider you an ally.”
“I can do discrete.” Stross told her, “Consider it done… master.”
Alva grinned. Things were going along better than she could have hoped.
“Oh Fallen preserve me! What by Celestia’s invisible mustache was I thinking?! I was like THIS close to losing it back there!” Stross cried as Lydia hugged him and gave him reassuring pats on the back. “Do you think she bought it? I hope she bought it. We’re so dead if she didn’t believe me. MY HANDS ARE SO SWEATY!”
“There there, my other thane. I thought you made a terrific evil vampire.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t offer me and Lydia to be her sex slaves.” Fenora commented. “So… now we’re running errands for the very same monster we’re trying to stop. Sorry if I seem lost, but what was the point of that?”
“Well now we can work to undermine her schemes from within, and eventually take her down.” Stross explained. “Because that she thinks we’re on her side now, we can do whatever we want around here and she won’t try and murder us!”
“Stross, that’s… actually kinda clever.” Fenora admitted, but quickly turned back to skepticism. “But why bother when you could just do what you threatened her with: make yourself look like her and start running through the town acting like a vampire. Then hide and watch while she’s driven out with torches and pitchforks.” Fenora asked. “That seems like it’d be a lot easier… and funny.”
Stross got a distant look in his eyes and chuckled. “Heh-heh, yeah… funny. Funny until it all goes wrong.”
He tilted his head back to them. “I know I’m just a bughorse from magic ponyland, but this isn’t my first rodeo. I learned what works and what doesn’t. So trust me when I say that setting an angry mob of ponies on an ultra-powerful changeling REALLY doesn’t work. It just ends with a lot of spilled take-out noodles. Lots and lots of spilled noodles; noodles that I really liked the taste of; noodles I cried over when they hit the ground.” Stross sniffed. “I never got to say goodbye to any of those noodles.”
Fenora gave Stross a hug. “Okay. I get it. We’ll do things so no one gets hurt.”
“Thanks Fen.” Stross said and pressed his face into her shoulder.
“Hey Stross. You weren’t talking about food just now… were you?”
“Yes and no.” Stross put simply. “Yes… and no.”
Back on track with their mission, our heroes set out to find the wizard Fallion. Asking the townspeople where he was earned them a warning at best, and a gob of spit at worst. Luckily one woman pointed them towards Fallion’s house before taking her leave.
The house itself looked to be recently built, though the damage made it hard to tell. Every single window had been broken and replaced with boards. The damage seemed to have spread out from there, as several of the wood panels had been either damaged or defaced; some were newer than others, hinting they’d been replaced for a time before the owner simply gave up.
Where the damage came from wasn’t exactly a mystery either.
“MORTHAL DOESN’T WANT YOU!” a pair of villagers screamed at the top of their lungs as they passed the house. Then one of them scooped a rock off the ground and threw it, leaving yet another dent in the wood. “Take your freaky magic and LEAVE US BE!”
Getting nothing else but silence, the villagers continued on their way.
Once they were gone, Stross walked up to the door, lightly knocked a few times, and waited.
Moments later they heard a scuffling from inside and the door opened, albeit barely an inch.
An eye glared at them through the crack, and a weathered voice spoke up. “I don’t recognize any of you. Who are you and what do you want? Are you here to accuse me of some misdoing, or heckle me for preforming witchcraft? ‘Cause I’ll have none of it!”
“Actually no.” Stross said harmlessly, “I know everyone’s been giving you trouble lately, but do you mind if we come in? We were hoping to talk with you about something.”
Fallion paused, closed the door to unlock the chain, and opened it again. He was a redguard man, not yet to the point of old age, but definitely getting there. His face was creased with lines of frustration and worry, but seemed to ease as he regarded Stross and the others.
“Well this is a surprise. People in Morthal with actual manners and decency? You’d think the world’s gone mad.” He muttered. “Well as long as you’re not trying to get rid of me, then by all means, come in. It’d be a nice change of pace.” he said, leaving the doorway to attend to other things.
“Heh-heh, well… it’s funny you should mention that.” Stross chuckled as they entered, and shut the door quietly behind them.
“The wizard won’t be a problem anymore, master.” Stross said as he knelt. “Right now my minions are bringing his body into the marsh to dispose of him.”
“Excellent. One less headache to deal with.” Alva grinned and allowed Stross to rise. She then turned to pour some glasses of wine, still chuckling mirthfully to herself.
“You know… the villagers were always mistrustful of that wizard, just like all outsiders. Sneaking out to the march in the middle of the night to experiment with his little purifying rituals didn’t help his image either. All the better for me.” she returned and handed Stross one of the metal cups full of strong-smelling liquid. “It’s so delightfully ironic, don’t you think? That these poor, foolish mortals suspected and shunned the only one that could save them, all while turning a blind eye to the real danger hiding in plain sight?”
Stross gazed into his cup as a grim thought crossed his mind again. Equestria or Nirn… Vampires or changelings, it made no difference. Both worlds had their wolves in sheep’s clothing. “Ironic indeed.” He mumbled.
Stross dipped his mouth down and took a small sip.
Then he realized it wasn’t wine.
Alva cocked an eyebrow at Stross while he gagged and sputtered and coughed, dropping the metal goblet on the floor and letting the rest of the dark red liquid to soak into her expensive carpets.
Once he got over the shock, Stross looked up to see Alva’s suspicious glare. “I uh…” he scrambled to think of some excuse for why a ‘vampire’ just gagged at the taste of blood. “Forgive me master, the taste caught me off guard. It wasn’t as, um… fresh as I’m used to.”
Alva’s suspicion fizzled and was replaced with mere indignity. She scoffed and tossed her hair before quickly downing her own serving. “Fresh blood is a luxury I’ve been working towards for quite some time now. Although with your assistance, that goal might be a bit closer to my grasp. Tell me, how would you like to try something a bit more fun?”
“Fun?” Stross asked.
Alva smiled that innocently evil smile of hers. “Indeed. The guards in this town are barely a threat as they are, but could still prove to be a hindrance. You and I are going to make sure that when the time comes, Morthal’s defenders will be little more than lumbering hunks of meat. I trust you can perform a simple mind-altering spell, yes?”
Stross began to fidget.
Changelings were somewhat notorious for their ability to manipulate one’s thoughts. Shifting a pony’s disposition towards them and away from anyone else made feeding easy, whereas numbing their victims minds until they were practically braindead was a nice short-term, nonlethal solution to threats. But those kinds of spells were costly in terms of energy needed to cast, and required a lot of foreknowledge about the target of the spell for it to be effective; in short, you needed to know what a pony liked in order to make them not like it, or make them like something else instead.
Stross had two problems with mind magic, the first being moral. To him, forcing somepony to like or dislike something was almost like killing a tiny part of who they were, and the very thought made him feel uneasy. Persuading, encouraging, or otherwise convincing someone that they should be a certain way was okay. But not giving them a choice was wrong in every way he could think of.
The second problem with mind magic was much more simple...
“I um… kinda, sorta… never learned how to do that.”
Alva balked. “Then explain to me how you were able to keep such control of your thralls!" she demanded. "From what I've seen, they clearly don’t care what you are or that you're feeding on them. How else do you make them so complacent?!”
“Actually it’s simple. I’m not using any kind of trick on them at all. What keeps the three of us together is the greatest, most powerful magic there is: the magic of love and friendship!” Stross told her, spreading his arms to embrace the entire world as rainbows and doves flew out from behind him, an angelic choir sang in the background, and the words ‘love and friendship’ appeared above his head in big bubble letters.
“COME AT ME WORLD! STROSS IS GONNA LOVE AND TOLERATE THE SyayT OUT OF YOU!”
(meanwhile, back in reality)
“Read this.” Alva said, shoving a spellbook into Stross’s face, “It is a simple spell that even a complete imbecile could learn. Be ready in fifteen minutes. It’s time to pay the guards a little visit.”
Because it was a small town in the middle of nowhere, Morthal’s guardforce wasn’t all that impressive. Including Benor, there were a total of five guards for the whole town. Still, five was more than enough to cause problems, and Alva thought it worth the effort to pacify them.
The plan was simple: go to the barracks before the first patrol left, and place a mind haze spell on each of the guards that would prevent them from even thinking of raising a hand against anyone, literally.
The guards anywhere in Skyrim were a stoic lot, Morthal’s guards even moreso. They didn’t take any funny business from anyone, especially outsiders like Stross. It would have been a challenge to drag them aside without being labeled a lollygagger.
However… no right-minded guard wouldn’t say ‘no’ when offered a nice bottle of mead… or ten.
So while the guards were busy slugging back their bottles as fast as Stross could offer refills, they didn’t even notice the changeling working his newly acquired magic on them.
“You know... this doesn't seem so bad.” Stross thought to himself as he began his work on the fourth guard. It was so much simpler than he thought mind magic would be, and a lot less draining too. "And it's so easy!"
Ribbon-like tendrils of magic worked their way out of his horn, and were covertly woven together in a loose ball, not unlike a handful of magic spaghetti. To concentrate, he recited a passage from Alva’s book in his head.
{All creatures of Mundus share a similar emotional spectrum. The key to illusion spells such as Rage or Courage, is to shift the balance of this spectrum.
All feelings can be traced back to a basic ‘core emotion’, of which each has its opposite; Rage has Calm; Courage has Fear; Happiness has Sorrow, and so on. Through use of illusion magic, one can add more of one or more emotions, offsetting their opposites.}
Like the several castings before, the finished tendrils snaked their way through the air and into the oblivious guardsmen. They didn’t suspect a thing, and none of them even bothered to get up and leave. They just stood there contently, drinking their free mead like armored alchaholic sheep.
Stross found illusion magic incredibly easy to pull off with his changeling senses. He could use them to see the guard’s emotional state, and add the perfect amount of Calm. Unfortunately, that was about all he could do. He only had the basics of illusion, and the book said a person’s emotional balance would go back to normal over time. Stross could fine-tune all he wanted, but couldn’t make it stick.
That was Alva’s job.
Once he was satisfied with the guards’ level of passiveness, and fed a bit to regain the energy he’d used, Stross would lead them back into the barracks so Alva could lock the spell in place.
Stross looked at the line of four guards and Benor, inspecting his work one last time before Alva could grade him like a school teacher.
“So..? How’re we all feeling?” he asked them, and after a long and awkward pause, they each moaned out a reply.
“Dude… I’m like… totally at peace with the world right now.”
“Yeah bro… I’m toooootaly chill.
“Gnarley bro.”
“Hippie and/or surfer dude catchphase.”
“And you don’t mind if I do… this!?” He flicked the helmet of the guard closest to him which making a sharp ringing noise, but the man didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
A bit bolder, Stross pulled back the illusion on his mouth and gnashed his pointy white teeth in the guards’ faces. He snarled and slobbered and blew raspberries, but they just watched him curiously, almost in a daze.
For a final test he took one of the bottles of mead and poured it out over Benor’s head.
Benor didn’t even move his head out of the way. He just started lapping his tongue at the drizzle when it reached his mouth.
“Heeee!” Stross let out a mischievous squeal. “I take back everything I thought about mind magic. This is awesome! I can do whatever I want and none of you even care! I don’t even have to worry about it draining me ‘cause I can just feed on you guys once you’re all mellowed out!”
He knocked on the door, signaling to Alva.
She opened the door after a moment and brought the men inside. He was told to stay outside and keep watch for anyone. Not a hard task since no one tried to enter the barracks anyway. Still the bestial glint in Alva’s eye when she looked at the guards had not escaped Stross, and it had him more than a little worried.
That was... until he heard the pleasurable moans and the squeaking of bedboards coming from inside the barracks.
Stross turned away and tried not to listen as a blush spread across his face. “Well that’s… one way to get love out of someone.” He mumbled to himself.
Minutes passed and the noise hadn’t died down in the slightest. Stross idly conjured a ribbon of calm and let it dance in front of his face for a bit, then listened a bit closer to what was going on inside.
Stross looked back at the ribbon as it weaved in and out of his fingers, and some less-than-innocent thoughts crossed his mind. He laughed, “I’m gonna have so much fun with this back in Equestria.”
It was then that he realized what he’d just said. If he got back to Equestria.
If he even wanted to go back.
Stross stared up at the cloud-blocked skies over the little lakeside town; the dense grey cover just sat there with no pegasi teams to clear it away. He thought about his time in Skyrim, and how it compared to his life in Equestria.
Equestria was warm, friendly and welcoming as long as he kept up his disguise (random weekly disasters notwithstanding). By contrast, Skyrim was seemingly hostile no matter who or what you were (with random hourly disasters par for the course). Yet somehow, Stross felt happier here.
Maybe it was Fenora. There were plenty of mares in Equestria he could work his way towards, stallions too if he felt like it. But Fen had seen him for what he was, and still gave him a chance… still liked him. Even when she was being brash or dismissive, he could tell that she cared more than she let on, and he liked to think he brought out more of that side of her; after all, he got her to stay and protect Skyrim despite her resistance to the idea.
What if he found a way back when this was over? What if he found it before they saved the world, and what if only he could go back?
If that were the case, would he actually choose to go, even if it meant leaving Fenora and everyone else behind?
Stross pondered the answers for longer than he liked. If it came down to it, he would never leave Fenora to fight Alduin alone. He’d stay with her even if they failed and the world crumbled around them. But when it was over… when they’d won…
The door to the barracks slammed open, breaking him out of his thoughts. Alva stepped out and donned the hood of her fancy silk cloak, looking thoroughly disgusted.
“So, how was it in there?” Stross asked.
“Your work was satisfactory to our needs. Let us move on.” she answered almost robotically.
“That’s great, but I meant… how was it?” he asked her, daring to waggle his eyebrows at her. “Were they good for you?”
Alva frowned deeply. “Don’t mistake your delusions for truth. What you heard was merely a smokescreen, and act to keep up appearances and discourage interference while I worked. I barely allow these filthy mortal to even touch me, let alone insert their members into any of my orifices. And don't ever think otherwise!”
Alva huffed through her nose, and they kept walking.
“One of them blew his load all over your face didn’t he?”
Alva’s cheeks went red. “Sh-shut up!”
Things were eerily silent when Stross and Alva arrived back at the latter’s house. Alva reached for her key, but the door opened just as she was about to insert it into the slot.
“Hey, you’re back.” Fenora greeted them from the doorway.
Alva looked surprised to see her already inside, but brushed it off and entered. As Stross followed behind her, Fenora nudged his side and gave him a wink.
He understood immediately.
Alva sank into one of the chairs with an exhausted sigh, letting her arms meld with the armrests. Fen and Stross decided to remain standing however.
“So… master,” Stross said, sliding over to where Alva was sitting, “what do we do now?”
Alva closed her eyes and hummed in thought for a moment, a satisfied smile playing across her face. “I must admit, since your arrival my plans have moved forward much faster than anticipated.” Her smile drooped into a calculating frown. “Perhaps too fast.”
She stood up and turned to Stross. “I believe now is the time.”
Stross tilted his head. “Time?”
“Time to return to my master, and inform him that Morthal is ripe for the taking.”
"There are others?" Stross played along, trying to seem oblivious. "I thought you were just speaking in 'royal second-person' when we first met."
Alva chuckled. “Hmm, it does suit me, doesn't it? But no, I was referring to my master and the rest of his coven, a coven of which you'll no doubt become a part of once all is said and done. But if we’re to make our move, we must do it now, before that aging hag catches wind of our doings.”
“You mean this aging hag?” the raspy voice of Jarl Ravencrone stopped everyone silent as she made her way up from the basement. “You traitorous bitch.”
Multiple emotions competed for dominance on Alva’s face as she gaped at the Jarl, stuttering to find coherent words. “I- you- What are you doing in my home?!” she snarled.
“Investigating a report from a concerned citizen, pursuing a cases of breaking and entering, aggravated assault, and unlawful pillaging of one’s belongings. As well as confirming suspicions of conspiracy against the town.”
Fenora rolled her eyes. “I broke in, knocked out Hroggar and made her follow me inside while we tossed the place.”
“The way I said it sounds more official. The point is, we found all the evidence we need to have you sentenced to death twice over, vampire!” Idgrod said and produced a small leather-bound journal.
Alva’s eyes bulged. “Give that back!” she shouted and thrust an open palm swirling with dark red energy at Idgrod. “I command you!”
When Idgrod merely raised a quizzical brow, she turned her palm to Fenora. “You, seize her!”
Fenora looked at her, but didn’t move. “Yeah… no.”
Whether in confusion or genuine fear, Alva staggered back. “What?! But how? I-“
“Have no power over anyone. Not with my specialized pendants protecting our minds.” As he spoke, Fallion ascended the basement stairs as well. He held up a silver necklace with runes hastily carved into it. “I’ve been onto you since the moment I arrived. I took all the abuse this town could muster so that one day I could foil your schemes. Looks like that day is now.”
“Th-that’s cheating! Stross do someth-“
Avla was cut off mid-sentence when she received a stun spell to the back. Once her face met the floor, Stross blasted two more bolts into her before he was satisfied she couldn’t move.
“And stay down!” he growled.
While Fen and Lydia picked her up and deposited her in the nearest seat, Stross turned back to Idgrod. “Well, I told you you wouldn’t regret letting me help.” he then nodded to Fallion, “Thanks for your help too.”
“Ya did good kid. Unfortunately there’s no time to celebrate.” Idgrod told him and handed him Alva’s journal. “Here, have a read.”
Stross took the book and quickly flipped it open and started to skim. There were no dates recorded though, so it was hard to tell how far back they were. The first chunk of pages were just plain summaries of days or maybe weeks, Alva's frustrated scribblings describing how bored she was with her life. Now and then a page would be dedicated to her fantasies, of a heroic knight whisking her away to a life of wonder.
One entry changed it all, the one talking about how she met a charming stranger in the marsh one night.
The letters on the following pages were less lazy and more focused. That stranger happened to be a master vampire who had turned her, promising they’d be together for an eternity if she’d take over Morthal for him. This ‘Movarth’ wanted it to be some kind of feeding ground for him and the rest of his followers, and a place they could stage further attacks from.
The next passages described her attempts at a systematic takeover of the town, including how she first enthralled Hroggar to protect her coffin while she slept. A woman named Laelette was sired as a lesser minion soon after, her disappearance excused as 'leaving to fight for the Stormcloaks'.
Then came the house fire. The letters were cut so deep in the pages they were nearly ripping holes through them. Alva had realized Hroggar’s family were getting suspicious. But instead of doing the deed herself, she ordered Laelette to kill them, likely to keep the heat off of herself if anything went wrong.
Needless to say, she wasn’t pleased with the results. Worse for her, Laelette was racked with guilt over what she’d done, and Alva believed her to be going insane. She cast Laelette out, noting that it was ‘an acceptable loss’.
The most recent entry, Stross found, was about him:
{This morning was an interesting one. Before the morning began in earnest I made my to the Moorside inn, hoping to coax that cheapskate Jonna out of her shell and into bed with me. There I stumbled into another vampire and his harem of two.
Never have I witnessed such careless disregard for keeping oneself hidden. That foolish boy spoke openly about his feeding habits and hunting tactics, even showing off his fangs to his thralls, right in the middle of the inn.
His inexperience will lead to a swift demise, I'm sure. I can only hope that he will leave Morthal before that happens. This town is too valuable to lose, and my situation is precarious enough without some idiot fledgling messing it up further.}
Closing the journal, Stross had several questions on his mind. He was about to ask them, but Idgrod jumped to the most pressing one.
“Movarth, the vampire mentioned in that journal... he’s an old name I never thought I’d hear again. If he’s planning a takeover of the town then we haven’t got much time.” she told them all. “I’ll gather my gaurds. If we’re lucky, we might be able to wipe him out once and for all.”
Stross sucked his teeth. “Ooh, uh… yeah. About that. See Alva and I just paid them a visit and well… they’re kinda useless now.” He said awkwardly. “And drunk.” He added, “Really really drunk. Like so incredibly drunk that I doubt anyone else has ever gotten more intoxicated in the history of-“
“Okay, we get it!” Idgrod moaned, and bridged her nose in thought. “Alright, new plan. Meet me in the longhouse, and drag the bitch with you.” With that, she marched out the door, grumbling under her breath about 'vampires these days'.
Our heroes, dragging Alva in a chair and followed closely by Fallion, followed Jarl Idgrod back to her longhouse. Stross was certain they were being watched, but now wasn’t the time to deal with it.
Once inside, the Jarl led them into her personal quarters and began rummaging through several large trunks. There must have been dozens of boxes lining the walls, unorganized stacks piled all the way up to the ceiling. That made it a pain in the flank trying to find anything.
“Movarth was a crafty bastard back in my father’s time. He was cunning, patient, and he didn’t give up easily. As could be expected from a vampire hunter turned vampire himself. Ever read the book ‘Immortal Blood’? It’s about him, up to the point he was turned.” Idgrod told them while she rummaged through yet another crate full of cabbages. “Still, he’s nothing if not predictable. He’ll likely be holed up in the same old cave he used as his hideout all those decades ago. That’s where you’ll need to go to finish him off.”
Idgrod then opened a tiny metal lamp, and to everyone’s shock an entire woman sprang out.
“Oof!” she said upon landing on the floor. “Oh Idgrod, good to see you again sister. Is it time to take our vengeance on the non-believers?”
“Oh, uh… no Argi, we’re just slaying some ancient vampires.” Idgrod rubbed her neck awkwardly. “That is if I can ever find dad’s old chest.”
“The one with the big silver ‘t’ on it? Oh Iddy, you silly old goose. It’s under your bed!”
Idgrod paused as if something smacked her upside the head. Then she facepalmed and walked over to the heavy bed in the center of the room, singlehandedly upending it. Sure enough, there was a large chest in the shape of a coffin marked with a large silver ‘t’ laying underneath.
“Good luck with the vampires sis. Don’t forget to blink!” Argi said before leaping back into the tiny lamp from whence she came.
“I trust that none of you saw any of that. Now onto business.” Idgrod said, turning back to our heroes. “My first thought was to grab some able bodies from the town and form a rag-tag militia to destroy Movarth. But then I realized… that’s stupid! Movarth would tear them to pieces. So we ain’t doing that.”
“Thank the Fallen!” Stross chimed.
“Instead, the three of you are going to go out there and deal with it.”
“That’s hardly better.” Fenora remarked.
“Look travelers,” Idgrod sighed, “you’ve already done more for us than most would have, given the chance. But right now you’re the only ones who can do this for us. We’re counting on you.”
The whole ‘you’re the only one who can possibly save us’ spiel was starting to feel familiar to Fen. It was doubtless that Stross was about to jump on board any second. So… why not?
“Say no more. You can count on us.” Fenora stepped up, much to the surprise and delight of her followers.
“Thanks kid, ya got guts. Use what’s in that chest so Movarth doesn’t rip ‘em out.”
Fenora nodded and took a look inside. The first thing to grab her attention was a whip, a thickly wrapped leather coil. It was covered in chips of candle wax for some reason.
There was also some kind of crossbow, fancier and more intricate than any she’d ever seen before, with more gears and springs and levers than she thought anything would need just to fire a bolt. Stranger still, its quivers were more like metal cans that locked into slot underneath. Maybe it was so it could be could reloaded faster? Convenient, she supposed.
While Fenora tried to figure out how the thing was supposed to work, Stross decided to dig through the chest as well. With the glee of a foal opening Hearth’s Warming presents, he pulled out a pair of wooden stakes, engraved with some kind of markings on the handles. He tossed one to Lydia, and she began to inspect it.
“Hmm, these have both the symbols of Arkay and of Meridia.” She said, brushing her fingers over the symbols.
“Is that… good?” Stross asked.
At that point Fallion chimed in. “Arkay is the Divine of balance between life and death, whereas Meridia is the Daedric Prince of life-energies. The only thing they have in common is their hatred for the undead… like vampires. For one to call upon both Daedra and Divine for aid…”
“I guess hunting vampires really…” Stross grinned, “raises the stakes?”
“That was terrible my other thane.” Lydia shook her head, but laughed and toasted her stake against his.
The two chortled for a minute while Fenora sat fiddling with the crossbow contraption, until finally there was a satisfying *click*, and she stood up with a smirk on her face.
“I think I got it!” she said triumphantly. Donning a wide-brimmed hat from within the chest, she turned to her companions. "Alright gang, let's kill us some vampires."
It was eerie how even in the middle of the day, it still felt like the dead of night inside the swamp around Morthal. It might have been a bit brighter, but the fog still made it impossible to see much of anything. Still, they managed to find their way somehow, and things were pretty quiet as the three of them stalked through the marsh to where Movarth’s lair supposedly was.
Fallion had stayed behind in order to make sure Alva was detained, but had wished them all luck in their endeavor.
It was fine by Fenora. An old man would hardly be any help in the fight anyway.
When they finally found the cave entrance, Fenora noticed a figure standing guard out front near a pair of freshly lit braziers; that meant someone was sure to be home. By some stroke of luck he didn’t seem to notice them back, and Fenora had the others hold their positions while she stalked around for a better angle.
Once directly behind him, Fenora brought up the crossbow and took aim at the man’s back.
She squeezed the trigger, sending a bolt whizzing into her target!
Sorry, did I say one? …I meant twenty.
“Fuck fuck, fuckin stop dammit!” Fenora swore as the crossbow spastically spat out bolt after bolt.
Finally getting the machine to stop its assault, she leaned back and let out a sigh of relief.
Then she noticed Stross and Lydia’s stared as they hovered over her with a mix of concern and disbelief.
Fenora looked over the damage caused. As expected, less than half the shots actually hit their target; the rest went off into the distance or embedded themselves in nearby trees. “Um…” Fenora chuckled sheepishly, “Whoops?”
The cavern was huge, dug deep into the earth like a fallout shelter, although must less clean. Laying all around the rocky entrance corridor were bits of meat, ranging from decomposing scraps of skin to large hunks of flesh. Some of the bits, like fingers and feet, were undeniably from people.
It didn’t take long to find out where it was coming from. An orc in fur armor shuffled by, dragging behind him a cart full of chopped-up body parts and a large muddy shovel.
With much greater trigger control, Fenora brought the crossbow to shoulder and took down the orc with a clean headshot.
Moving forward, the group couldn’t help taking a peek at the contents of the cart.
“Gods…” Lydia breathed.
“Yeah. These guys are really going to town.” Fenora agreed. “Stross, some on. …Stross?”
Stross picked up a piece of the desiccated leftovers, his back turned and head hanging low. “… we have to stop them.” he said in a harsh whisper, “We have to make them pay for this.”
“That’s why we’re here. Come on.” Fenora told him before continuing on.
Stross took one last look at the shriveled hand, so small in his own… too small. He gently placed it atop the rest of the meat and kept moving.
…
If the cart was carrying the scraps, the next room was the butcher shop from Tartarus, or Oblivion, or whichever equivalent of Hell you prefer. Bodies that had been sucked dry of every last drop of blood were thrown in a great haphazardly pile, ready to be brought down a line of thralls. The first would strip off any clothing or valuables and sort them into neat little piles. The next would start the process of chopping and hacking them into pieces with an assortment of cleavers, greatswords and even a woodcutters’ axe. Finally the bits of meat were thrown into one of a dozen handcarts, ready to be wheeled out and dumped into the consuming maw of the marsh.
Dozens of travelers, merchants, bandits, and even a few soldiers… every one of them were just walking sacks of blood to Movarth’s vampires. Capture. Feed. Strip. Dispose. Repeat with the next.
Overseeing it all was a single vampire in a fancy robe, barking orders for the thralls to move faster while he lazily sat back and let them do all the work.
It was effective… It was efficient… It was…
“Disgusting.”
Fenora had to glance over at Stross to make sure it was still him. Hearing this kind of tone from the happy, lovable changeling was just plain jarring.
“Alright, gimme a sec.” She whispered and took aim with her crossbow again.
“No.” Stross stopped her, his eyes locked onto the vampire directing the operation. “You and Lydia stay back. This one’s mine.”
Stross crept forward, coiling Fenora’s whip around his hands. She hadn’t even noticed him nab it, but that wasn’t really the point. The point was the vampire had his back turned, and his thralls only had the mental capacity to strip, hack, and haul.
None of them noticed until Stross had the whip pulled taught around the vampire’s neck.
Sharpened nails frantically grabbed at the coil, but Stross was on that too. One stun blast later and the vampire went limp; not unable to move, just too weak to fight his way out. Unable to hear their master’s commands, his thralls were just as useless.
“You see this?” Stross hissed, “You see what you’re doing? No one should ever have to stoop this low! The world doesn’t need this! I’m making the world a… better… place…”
The vampire choked his last, eyes rolling back into his skull, and went limp.
Stross let out a sigh. “…by killing you.”
Three simultaneous pops rang out. It was like a firecracker set off under a pillow, and it wasn’t hard to see where it came from. The vampire’s three thralls slumped or fell over dead at their stations, a strange purple smoke smoldering out of their eyes and mouths, their souls finally freed. Whoever they were, goodness knows they didn’t deserve what happened to them.
“Nice work Stross. Good to know we can take out the thralls by killing the masters.” Fenora noted for later, then realized Stross was being oddly silent. “Stross... you okay? You’re being kinda… me-ish.”
“Well hey, you’ve got bandits to hate on, I used to have other changelings to hate, and now I’ve got vampires.” Stross told her. Then he looked at the slaughter room. “Do you think when this is done... we can find time to bury them?”
Fenora looked at the piles of bodies. It was going to be a lot of time digging if they did.
“We’ll see. Come on,” she said, leading them deeper through the network of tunnels, “let’s find Movarth and shove a stake up his ass.”
“That sounds just like my days at Housecarl College!” Lydia commented.
A banquet table sat in the middle of a great chamber. Gold and gems littered the surface, kegs of wine and blood sat like mountains on top. Around it were half a dozen vampires, each with a minimum of two thralls as their servants.
Movarth Pique sat at the head of the table on a makeshift throne, and frowned.
He was thoroughly dissatisfied with the way things were, for even though prey was in plentiful supply, and they could easily retreat to safety after striking. Even though he and his followers were adorned in the spoils of their hunts, and their lair was decorated with fine furniture and expensive rugs… it didn’t ignore the fact that they were LIVING IN A CAVE!
Movarth snorted out his nose.
Ten months ago he’d sired that young woman in the marsh. For ten months he’d waited for any sign of progress with the tiny town. And for ten months he’d slowly been losing his patience. Who did Alva think she was, anyway; an adventurer getting distracted for weeks with sidequests?
It was then that he noticed a figure entering his impromptu dining hall. “Speak of the lazy devil.” He thought.
“Alva. Why have you returned? Have you something to report?” he asked, “You better not have failed me.”
“Of course not master.” Alva shook her head. “In fact, I’ve made quite a lot of progress. The town is nearly ready for us to invade.”
Movarth raised a brow. “What is this?” he thought to himself, “Actual competence?”
He motioned for Alva to sit next to him and explain herself, and she did… formally even. No snagging herself a drink along the way, and she sat quite modestly, back straight with her hands in her lap. As she told him of her progress with the town, he also noticed a difference in her speech; it was concise and to the point, a few stutters here and there, but at least she wasn’t making an attempt to flirt with him while she spoke.
It was then that he noticed what she was wearing: a simple grey cloak and tunic, both made of simple, almost shoddy fabric. And boots? Most unlike her with her decadent and pretentious ways. Then again, he had collected quite a few pairs of boots himself, so perhaps she was still trying to emulate him.
Once Alva had completed her summary, Movarth scratched his chin in contemplation before rising. He bid all his followers to do so as well.
“You’ve done well Alva. It seems these months of planning and waiting have finally paid off.” He complimented, stiffly as always. “Prepare yourselves,” he told the others, “we invade Morthal at dusk! By dawn tomorrow, the town shall be ours.”
“Master.” Alva called, “There’s one other thing you should know.”
He turned. “What is-“
Movarth’s body reacted before his mind did. His eyes saw it: the tensing of the arms, the way Alva reached into her cloak. He grabbed her wrist expecting to see a dagger, but what he saw instead made his already cold blood freeze.
A stake, etched with the symbol of Arkay. One like he’d used when he was mortal, hunting vampires for sport.
“You dare.” He breathed. He would make the traitorous wench pay for this!
Then something happened he didn’t expect. Alva let the stake drop out of her hand, but instead it was caught in a bright red field. It zipped around behind him and plunged into his back.
Movarth howled as the stake, blessed by Devine and Daedra started purging his body with their magic.
Alva managed to break free from his grip, and right in front of his eyes, she vanished in motes of ember.
Awkwardly reaching back, Movarth twisted and wedged the stake out of his back and cast it aside. His other followers were confused and in disarray, and Alva was nowhere to be seen.
“Where are you? Where are you?!” he growled, his vampire eyes scanning the room with Detect Life. He nearly had a lock on her silhouette when something whizzed by his head, cutting him on the cheek.
He only had time to spot the archer before three more bolts hit him in the chest, neck, and forehead.
“Now that I have your attention…” she quipped loudly.
“GET HER!” he roared, and his followers rushed to obey.
…
Stross panted as his invisibility disguise fell away, and he slipped away into what looked like sleeping quarters. Quickly he checked his hands, and whined when he saw several holes reappearing. Fenora and Lydia sounded like they were providing a decent distraction. But how long would that last?
He needed a pick-me-up to get in the fight fast.
“Hm? Oh hello there pick-me-ups.” He said, spotting the several colorful bottles lining the bedside tables.
Now, alchemy was a complex art, and those potions could have had anything in them. So Stross did what any responsible drug user would do…
He started glugging down all of them.
Blue one. (Restored 50 magika. Lost 50 health.)
Red one. (Restored 50 health. Lost 50 magika.)
Dos Equis. (Stay thirsty my friends.)
…
Fenora fired another volley of arrows from her one-man archer squad of a crossbow. Because they were situated at the top of the wooden ramp leading into the chamber, giving her a wide area to fire at, the vampires were tending to stay back to fling spells at them while they let their thralls do the up-close and dangerous fighting.
She’d have to thank Fallion again for letting them keep the silver amulets that blocked mind-numbing spells. But then again, fire, ice and lightning wasn’t much better.
Fenora had already slugged down half a bottle of her special potion concentrate, and could feel it taking effect, numbing her body to pain and freeing her up to fight until she collapsed.
The other half of the bottle she’d given to Lydia, and she could see how well it was working already.
“This… is… just… like… back in… Housecarl Collage!” Lydia punctuated every word with a massive swing that crushed the mob of thralls under the weight of her axe.
Past the row of lesser vampires, Fenora saw Movarth standing up again, finally recovered from the stake Stross put in him. He took a stance and made a large sweeping motion with his arms.
Fenora barely had time to react before the giant fireball impacted the wooden supports holding up the platform she was standing on. “What the ‘Blivion!?”
It started to creak… then slowly tilt forward…
Fenora looked down at the vampires waiting to grab her the second she fell, unable to get anywhere else there was only one thing she could say.
But just as she was about to fall, Stross swooped in and carried her to safety on his wings, getting her just high enough to scramble over the crowd and introduce some faces to the bottom of her boot.
Landing her within dueling distance of Movarth, Stross spun around and tossed a flashbang into the group of vampires.
Agonized wailing and the smell of blistering skin filled the chamber as soon as it detonated.
Stross’s face lit up with sadistic glee. “Fen, you take big boss vampire! I’m gonna make his followers see the light.”
“Gladly.” Fenora said as she began slowly strafing around Movarth.
Movarth’s fingers tensed, his stony glare tracking Fenora’s every movement. Fenora returned his stare with her own, looking for some kind of tell as to what he was going to do.
With a quick-draw motion she sent a trio of bolts flying his way.
They were right on target, but Movarth simply wasn’t there when they reached him.
He appeared out of nowhere behind her, retaliating with a trio of fireballs that she was barely able to duck.
This went on for several more rounds. Fenora would spin around to fire at the vampire lord, trying to catch him before he dodged her shots and vanished. But no matter how fast she was, he was faster. Years of experience hunting the race he was now a part of had honed his skills, and coupled with vampire perception and speed…
Fenora was fighting the hopeless battle she’d been dreading.
“Hold still damn you!” she shouted in frustration as Movarth dodged yet another bolt. “GAH!”
This time she hadn’t been quick enough on her recovery, and one of the fireballs hit her square in the back.
“Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.” Movarth shook his head, calmly walking towards the fallen hero. “You think that picking up a fancy toy and wearing the ratty old hat of a true hunter puts you on par with me? I’ve been doing this since before you were born!”
Fenora pushed herself to her feet and unfurled her whip.
Movarth snorted. “A whip? Just what do you think you’re going to do with a whip?”
…
“Aw yeah, take it! Take it you bitch! You like killing innocent people? You like drinkin’ ‘em down like clamato juice? Well this is what you get! GET YOURS!” Stross yelled as he stuck a flashbang to the vampire’s face.
Writing at his feet were the other half dozen vampires who’d already ‘gotten theirs’.
Lydia was nearly done beating their thralls into submission. Jacked on Fenora’s potion, Lydia couldn’t even feel the beating she was taking in return. Her arms were covered in cuts, and her face was a veritable roadmap of scars and bruises, but she just kept going with barely more than a ‘thank you sir. May I have another?’
Then from the center of the hall came several high-pitched squeals of pain.
Everyone still alive turned to face the noise and saw Fenora repeatedly whipping Movarth with her whip. The sharp cracks made everyone wince as the master vampire started actually begging for mercy.
“OW! Stop that at once- OW! You insolent girl- AAH! You hit me in the dick with that one- OWW!”
“What kind of sadist uses a whip?” the vampire Stross had in a headlock asked.
“I know, right? Kinda messed up.” Stross said before shoving another sizzling flashbang in his face.
…
“Enough…” Movarth gasped, desperately trying to block Fen’s lashes. “Enough… ENOUGH!”
Fenora paused for a moment before whipping him once more.
“I! SAID! ENOUGH!” Movarth roared, each word punctuated by a growing aura of his dark vampire power. “Foolish mortal… now you’ve made me angry. Very! Very! VERY! ANGR- Gleh!”
“Nuff of this.” Fenora said, grappling the whip around Movarth’s throat and pulling him to his knees with all her might. “Get over here!”
Then she shoved the end of her auto-crossbow into his mouth and pulled the trigger until it ran out of arrows. With his face looking like a pin-cushion, Fenora tossed the crossbow away and tightened her hands around the whip.
Pulling, twisting and hearing the popping sounds coming from Morvarth’s neck, she gave one last heave, freeing the vampire’s head from his shoulders.
Fenora breathed heavily. “Fenora Tandis wins… Fatality.”
“Fallen’s grace!” Stross broke the silence.
“Excellent work my thane!” Lydia complimented.
Fenora was about to smirk, but then she saw the piles of bodies around her companions and realized how many more kills they’d gotten. She knew the important thing was that they’d wiped out Movarth and his coven, saving Morthal, but… come on, there had to be some sort of bonus for killing the boss.
“Uh… Fenora?” Stross whimpered.
And it was obvious that she did most of the work anyways.
“My thane…”
Aside from a preemptive staking from Stross, she did all the damage to him, so-
“Behind you!” Stross and Lydia screamed.
Fenora turned around a second too late.
Movarth was far from done. Seconds before she killed his human body, Movarth had started the ritual releasing his true form; a giant bat-faced demon. With one powerful strike from his arm, Fenora was sent flying across the room and slammed into a column of rock.
“Fenora!”
“My thane! Die beast!” Lydia shouted, turning to rush the monstrosity.
In a single hulking motion Movarth blocked her axe, grabbed her by the torso, and leered into her face menacingly. He opened his mouth to take a bite.
Then something stuck to his shoulder. There was a muted pop, and searing pain erupted across his skin tearing through flesh and bone at a terrifying rate. In his rage he smashed Lydia through the banquet table into the floor, and continued to thrash about.
Within seconds, Movarth’s arm that was as thick as a large treebranch was eaten off by the flash-melt, and fell to the floor where it promptly turned to ash.
“Yeah, you like that?!” Stross taunted. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from!”
He summoned up power for another flash-melt, only for it fizzle out before it formed, and a familiar pain coursed through him. He looked up to see Movarth’s new form towering over him with nothing but sheer hatred on its face.
Stross staggered backwards, desperately trying to create even a regular spell… but no such luck.
“Uh… heh. Maybe we can talk about this?” Stross offered.
Movarth wasn’t inclined. He grabbed Stross by the neck and hoisted him up, the changeling’s struggles almost pointless.
The vampire beast opened his mouth, and a dark red energy surrounded them. As Morvarth drained the life out of Stross, his arm started to regenerate, slowly but surely.
Stross felt himself getting even weaker, the pain flaring through his head becoming a constant ache through his entire body. His vision swam and blurred, his hearing become distorted, he felt his limbs go limp.
He had to resist.
As Movarth drained him, Stross responded in kind, fighting in a tug-of-war for his life. Neither was able to gain ground on the other for long, as any time one of them gained an advantage, the other would find some strength to flip the tables again.
Still, it was becoming clear to Stross that he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Syphoning wasn’t his forte and never was. But for Movarth, feeding like this was how he survived.
Stross realized he was going to die if this kept up.
“Yol… TOOR!”
Stross heard Fenora’s thu’um and knew he was saved as soon as the flames started eating away at Movarth’s back.
With his concentration broken, Stross poured every ounce of his own into ripping and tearing every bit of life energy out of Movarth as he possibly could.
The vampire’s form started to wither and shrink, his grip on Stross’s neck loosened and he fell to his knees.
Changeling sense wasn’t needed to see the palpable soul energy being pulled out of Movarth. His face contorted into a grimace of pain, and the sound of death slowly trickled out of his mouth along with the little black flecks of his soul. All of it disappeared into Stross’s mouth until nothing more came out, and Movarth was as still as a statue.
Fenora dragged herself up to them with her sword, and for good measure decapitated him a second time. Movarth’s body hit the floor again, this time for good, and with nothing left in it to sustain it, the hollow shell slowly turned to ash.
Finally… a sense of calm finally returned.
It was then that Fenora became acutely aware of her injuries.
She took short, labored breaths. Even her potion couldn’t eliminate the pain of a shattered ribcage. It was going to suck even more when the adrenaline wore off.
Looking at where her changeling was on all fours, she reached over to help him up.
“H-hey…” she said weakly, feeling her own blood trickle from her mouth. “W- we did it. We killed ‘em.”
She pulled Stross over her shoulder and let him lean on her as much as possible. Somehow he looked to be in even worse shape than she was.
Slowly… carefully, she started limping them over to where Lydia had been incapacitated.
By the time they were halfway to the ruined banquet table, Stross started to heave. His fingers tightened on Fenora’s singed shirt and looked to her, his eyes watering. “F-F-Fen… help.”
Falling out of her grasp, Stross started spewing black tar out of his mouth!
If the time he’d used the blackbow on the undead was a garden hose, this was a broken fire hydrant!
In her panic Fenora managed to mentally slap herself. Undead life is poisonous to changelings. Vampires are undead. And Stross just swallowed the soul of a master vampire!
“STROSS! Hold on!” Fenora screamed and tried to pick him up and carry him, never minding the torrent of sludge she was getting covered in.
She dragged him over to the table and propped him up against the edge, giving him a bucket to throw up into.
Why’d she give him a bucket? She didn’t know. But it was something!
“What do I do?!” she begged, seeing the bucket was already full. “Stross how do I help you!”
He turned to face her, and she gasped. His eyes were gone! Melted! Bleeding out more of that black goop like a torrent of tears!
“Oh gods… oh gods…” she muttered over and over. Now it was clear what was happening; Stross’s body was withering away so fast it was melting. That was how it purged itself! Stross was dying!
In Shroud Hearth he made it sound like no big deal! Why…
Fenora slapped herself again. Of course he made it sound like no big deal. He didn’t want her to worry! That was what he did!
She couldn’t let him die like this. She just couldn’t.
Then Fenora remembered something. She rushed over to where Lydia was and unclipped the stake from her belt.
If it was blessed by the gods of life energies, made especially to kill the undead, then maybe it could remove the undead soul from Stross before he died. It was the longest longshot she’d ever fired, but she had nothing better.
Stross was lying on his back in a pool of his own liquefied skin and organs by the time she reached him again. She took the stake and pressed it lengthwise to his chest, even more horrified when his ribs bent and snapped like hollow twigs under the pressure, swallowing the stake, her hands, and all.
“Please work. Please work. Please work. Please work.” she chanted, over and over, more desperate each time. “Please Stoss. I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you! I want you here with me!”
The oozing stopped. Fenora couldn’t tell if it worked because she’d been right, and had saved him, or if she’d been wrong, and there simply wasn’t anything left to wither away.
Fenora touched a hand to his face- no… the bone underneath where his face should have been. “St-Stross?” Empty sockets stared back at her.
No part of him moved.
Tears fell freely from Fenora’s eyes. The damage she’d taken in the fight caught up with her. An unnatural fatigue set in, and she slumped over next to the bony body of her beloved changeling. Not caring what she was lying in, she let herself drift off to sleep.
…
In the silence. In the darkness. A voice echoed in the distance.
“I have found the other changeling.”
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Oh no Luna is coming run away
OH C'MON
DAMN THESE CLIFFHANGERS
it was great
Multistage bosses are a real pain in teh back. As is Stross Suprise Back Stab Bonus?
Hope Lumi can recover quickly enough to take a potion, then feed potion etc to Fenora and Stross.
Wonder if Fen is going to keep the Expert Callistran Whip to demonstrate to Stross just what love can really mean?
This chapter was crazy... Stay thirsty, my fellow fanfic writers, stay thirsty.
Oh no!
Stross!
Fen was gonna fug that bug!
Not the banana...
Nooooooooooo! Not Stross! ;n; he was best CHangeling //sobs//
...
Nice chappie
This fic was and has maintained a level of quality higher then what should be expected from the premise. Good on you, doing better then you had to!
OH NOES FyayK SyayT Ayay DyayS AND AyayUS
Well... holy shit.
This chapter was awesome.
So... i guesse the blue sentence is Luna... since the stade stross is, i seriously hope he'll be saved by Luna.
Why do i see a mindscape scene, With a judgement from Luna, finaly deciding to save Stross life after she see each of his good deeds ?
Yeah, no, i'm projecting myself too much. I'll see what you do Erised.
And holy shit your wrinting, since the begining of the first fic has grown by leap and bounds. Seriously, this chapter was... Whoah.We've already seen Stross is not a pushover (he did kill a Dragon, even if the mothafuckin' Lizard came back because he didn't eat his soul.), but here... All of Stross' Buttons have been pushed by the vampires... and a pissed Stross is a force to be reckoned. And of course, the chapter he decide to consciously eat a soul, he chose the rotten, not-good-for-consumption at all kind... dammit Stross.
Keep Being Awesome Erised.
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7354468 Thanks you guys. I know I've said it before, but it means a lot to know people are enjoying my work, especially from the ones who've stuck with me all this time.
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SHyay PyayS FUyay CyayT Cyay-Sucker MotherFyayer and yays
i.ytimg.com/vi/kyBH5oNQOS0/hqdefault.jpg
Eoxcellent chapter, at first I was confused as to why you thought you needed to do a rewrite but after seeing the how much better your writing has gotten (like waaaay fyaykin better xD) I'm beginning to see why. You managed to craft this chapter together in a way that leaves my poor wee brain boggled, so give yourself a pat on the back and stop worrying Erised, you did good, the chapter is amazing, and most certainly not a trainwreck
Holy crap what a horrible way to go.
He literally melted.
7358286 You're quite welcome laddie!
Well, I actually hope that, that is not Luna wispering at the end.
I like this story so much because A Changeling is fending on his own is Skyrim. While the Princesses are back in Equestria beeing racist.
Hope that instead he is saved by some Aedra, or Daedra making him their champion of Vampire killing or something.
So, Stross despises Vampires. If only there were some vampire hunters he could join or something.
...
...
Are the official mods Canon to this fic?
Erisied, when I first read your stories I thought you were awesome. Now at a later date I see that you are amazing and just wanted to say, have a nice day!
7361425 That's... a tricky question to answer actually. To be honest, I'm trying to avoid any kind of mods. There's a lot of stuff out there that's pretty cool, and dare I say... Immersive as F#$%. But there's a lot of crazy too, which make it a slippery slope to walk (though I have been tempted to try a few times).
I guess in short: DLC is cannon to this story, fan-created mods (even those made official by Bethesda) are not. If anything I write is similar to a user-made mod, I probably had no idea.
....... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO(....)OOOOOOO!
Please! I need the next chapter!
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images.cryhavok.org/d/12703-1/Sheldon+-+Squee.jpg
Thank you!
7361741 oh also, say amazing my friend!
pursuing
acases of breaking and enteringStross, some on. …Stross?
blessed by Devine and Daedra
by the time reached him again
1. Extra A.
2. Come.
3. Divine.
4. By the time she reached him again.
Now you've done it. You done gone and got the drama feels button. And by golly was it pressed hard.
BP's here! =D
Even if it was invisible, do you think it would still do the wavy thing? That would make it really hard to eat without it getting in her food.
Is there a mod to get this type of item in the game??? It would be awesome if for no other reason than bling.
The due used to be the teacher for Conjuration at the College of Winterhold. I'm pretty sure he can summon up some Atranoch's and let them fry/freeze/shock anything that wants to mess with him.
Man, with a downer ending like this, I expect the group to jump at the chance to join the Dawnguard... and what happens when they meet Serana??? I can honestly see Stross getting along with her after a rocky start, they're similar enough I can see them forming a sibling bond.
Good boy, Stross.
Stay good, Stross!
Nice.
Oh damn, that was great. Don't know why you were some worried about this chapter as presented.
You gotta test those alchemy ingredients somehow
XD
A bucket was better than nothing but shed probably need a mop too. Now I'm wondering if this is like the bisecting that happened to Stross in that ruin you visit with the College in The Original Story.
I do love how the author took this boring regular vampire and turned him into literally Castlevania Dracula.