Lord Veneficus
07-15-2010, 04:42 AM
This is a fan-fic about The Elder Scrolls series. Enjoy!
Chapter One
“Praise be to Lord Vile and the blood patron, Molag,” Acerbus whispered in the darkness as he stood from the obsidian pedestal in the chapel. The glass windows were stained with the color of blood. The moonlight poured through them, casting the crimson rays all across the room, bathing him in the light. He turned and headed for the hidden trap door into his home below the chapel.
Acerbus Occisor was born an Imperial. His hair was as black as the Void itself and it fell to his wide shoulders. His eyes were of the deepest and darkest crimson, seduction and cunning flowed from them. His face was pale and very gaunt due to the lack of blood he drunk. A long, crooked scar ran diagonally down his back. Acerbus wore a tight black leather suit and a dark sapphire blue hooded cape.
He climbed down the ancient oak ladder and into the cave that surrounded him. The walls of the old place had fresh pickaxe cuts into them for more room and walking space. The amount of recruits who had joined the Esoteric Fangs had stretched the cavern to several levels below the chapel. It was an astonishing amount of vampires in one location. Over three thousand had joined the guild over a one hundred year span. But a thousand are there under the chapel, as it is the place where the guild was founded.
The guild of assassins has prospered over the span of one hundred years and now rivals the power and fear of the Dark Brotherhood presence in Cyrodiil. The Fangs have been taking most contracts from the Dark Brotherhood, almost crippling the ancient guild from under its foundations.
Acerbus nodded at the vampiric children roaming about the halls of the expansive cavern. The uppermost level of the cave was the market, with several other sections ranging from fletchers to bladesmiths and general goods to large bottles filled to the brim with human blood, ever so sweet blood. He moved towards the back wall of the top level and to the vendor sandwiched in between two larger stalls.
“Hi, Peter. What do you have with you today?” Acerbus asked with questioning eyes. The vendor, a gray headed Nord taller than his stall, stood there swaying to some music that no one but he could hear.
“I have just come back from High Rock. It seems that they have been performing illegal experiments and doing research there. I was lucky enough to steal a few books from their alchemy labs. Here have a look,” he answered politely. Acerbus could tell from the tone of Peter’s voice that he had just recently fed, as he is usually irritable after a missed feeding. Acerbus grabbed the red leather bound book and began to flip through the pages. The script it was written in was a beautiful one, curvy letters and the perfect slant of them. Acerbus immediately recognized it as a woman’s; no man could write like that.
He finished flipping through the first one and put it down. He picked another up, this one was bound in a blue cotton cover and was embedded with blood red rubies. Acerbus opened it up to the first page.
Porphyric Hemophilia: The Vampires
He began to read it. It told of the many different clans of vampires of Tamriel and their abilities and weaknesses. This was the perfect book to further increase his studies of his kin. He looked up from the book and queried, “I’ll take this one. How does twenty septims sound?”
Peter nodded and Acerbus placed the gold on the table and walked away. He moved downstairs to his room and began to drink a bottle of blood, all the while reading his newly acquired book.
Chapter Two
It was around dawn and Acerbus began to grow tired from all the reading he had done. He put the book down and went to his bed; it was basically a large stone slab with a pillow at the head of the bed. He laid down and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow
++++++++++++++++++++
“Let us head into the wilderness, men,” Cyrus said as he took a swig of his bloodwine. He was a vampire ancient for the Fangs and one of the members of their council. He turned from the road and entered the Great Forest. Its many trees swayed with the cool night air, their branches creaking a secretive language that none could understand. The leaves floated to the forest floor, only to wither and die, facing its apportioned fate. “If we want to arrive at the Fang Chapel before the sun’s rays can be cast upon us, we must hurry.”
The men nodded and formed a circular band around the Redguard. They began to trot forward, deeper and deeper into the forest, slowly losing the moonlight that guided them.
In a matter of moments, a sound rang out into the night. It was a howl. The group of men ignored it, as they decided that it was just a wolf howling at the moon. The trekked onward, only to hear the noise again, this time it was closer. The vampires suspected not a thing, simply believing that it was another wolf.
Then, a growl erupted from behind them. Cyrus spun around, silver blade drawn. It was a werewolf. Those beady black eyes pierced him through, surveying him for the kill. It bounded from the dirt, kicking up leaves and twigs in its wake. Cyrus’ guards moved in to attack. One cut the dirty man-beast across his large muscular arm, causing him to bleed out onto the cold hard dirt. It whimpered as it groped its arm and fell to the ground. “Is it dead, Geleborn?” Cyrus asked. If he had a heartbeat, it would have been bursting out of his chest.
“I think, sir,” Geleborn answered through huffs. He sheathed his weapon and bent down to examine the fallen wolf. The men did not know that the monster was holding its breath, waiting for its opportune moment to strike. His white fur glistened with his blood, still oozing from his arm.
Geleborn was looking at the wolf’s face, stern and in pain. Then, the wolf jumped from its fetal position and snapped at the High Elf in his face. The Altmer’s muffled screams could be heard, but were quickly silenced when the werewolf bit harder. Blood began to drip down the Altmer’s neck, staining his robes. The werewolf released the elf and turned towards the group behind him. They rushed in, swords drawn.
The werewolf slung its heavy paw into the side of first vampire, throwing him into the ancient oak. A crack came from his body, signifying his painful death. He ran into the others and tackled them to the ground, mauling their faces and mutilating their bodies. Once the screams had subsided, the wolf ran after Cyrus. Cyrus closed his eyes, hoping that his death would be quick and painless.
++++++++++++++
When the darkness enshrouded the day again, Acerbus woke from his bed and went upstairs to the market.
Acerbus looked around; no one was to be seen. He began to move forward into the council chambers, figuring that there was an announcement that had been made. He saw an apple on a table and snatched it from the clay bowl it was resting on.
He entered the crowded chambers, the chatter was loud. So loud, that Acerbus could not hear himself think. He saw Ralas, one of the ancients, step up to the podium. He shouted above the chatter, silencing the entire room.
“It has come to my attention that Cyrus, a beloved member of our fraternity, and his men have been slaughtered not far from our sanctuary. We suspect that this was no accident and that the vicious monsters we know as Lycanthropes have done this to them. The council and I have been discussing this since the late afternoon. The werewolves have pushed us too far this time around, killing our high ranking members and slaughtering our brethren. We do not know what we will do against them, but we assure you it will not be a slap on the hand,” he stepped down from the podium and entered the heavy wooden door behind him. One by one, the ancients filed into the pitch black room.
Acerbus turned and exited the chambers, hoping that a war would not break out among them.
Chapter One
“Praise be to Lord Vile and the blood patron, Molag,” Acerbus whispered in the darkness as he stood from the obsidian pedestal in the chapel. The glass windows were stained with the color of blood. The moonlight poured through them, casting the crimson rays all across the room, bathing him in the light. He turned and headed for the hidden trap door into his home below the chapel.
Acerbus Occisor was born an Imperial. His hair was as black as the Void itself and it fell to his wide shoulders. His eyes were of the deepest and darkest crimson, seduction and cunning flowed from them. His face was pale and very gaunt due to the lack of blood he drunk. A long, crooked scar ran diagonally down his back. Acerbus wore a tight black leather suit and a dark sapphire blue hooded cape.
He climbed down the ancient oak ladder and into the cave that surrounded him. The walls of the old place had fresh pickaxe cuts into them for more room and walking space. The amount of recruits who had joined the Esoteric Fangs had stretched the cavern to several levels below the chapel. It was an astonishing amount of vampires in one location. Over three thousand had joined the guild over a one hundred year span. But a thousand are there under the chapel, as it is the place where the guild was founded.
The guild of assassins has prospered over the span of one hundred years and now rivals the power and fear of the Dark Brotherhood presence in Cyrodiil. The Fangs have been taking most contracts from the Dark Brotherhood, almost crippling the ancient guild from under its foundations.
Acerbus nodded at the vampiric children roaming about the halls of the expansive cavern. The uppermost level of the cave was the market, with several other sections ranging from fletchers to bladesmiths and general goods to large bottles filled to the brim with human blood, ever so sweet blood. He moved towards the back wall of the top level and to the vendor sandwiched in between two larger stalls.
“Hi, Peter. What do you have with you today?” Acerbus asked with questioning eyes. The vendor, a gray headed Nord taller than his stall, stood there swaying to some music that no one but he could hear.
“I have just come back from High Rock. It seems that they have been performing illegal experiments and doing research there. I was lucky enough to steal a few books from their alchemy labs. Here have a look,” he answered politely. Acerbus could tell from the tone of Peter’s voice that he had just recently fed, as he is usually irritable after a missed feeding. Acerbus grabbed the red leather bound book and began to flip through the pages. The script it was written in was a beautiful one, curvy letters and the perfect slant of them. Acerbus immediately recognized it as a woman’s; no man could write like that.
He finished flipping through the first one and put it down. He picked another up, this one was bound in a blue cotton cover and was embedded with blood red rubies. Acerbus opened it up to the first page.
Porphyric Hemophilia: The Vampires
He began to read it. It told of the many different clans of vampires of Tamriel and their abilities and weaknesses. This was the perfect book to further increase his studies of his kin. He looked up from the book and queried, “I’ll take this one. How does twenty septims sound?”
Peter nodded and Acerbus placed the gold on the table and walked away. He moved downstairs to his room and began to drink a bottle of blood, all the while reading his newly acquired book.
Chapter Two
It was around dawn and Acerbus began to grow tired from all the reading he had done. He put the book down and went to his bed; it was basically a large stone slab with a pillow at the head of the bed. He laid down and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow
++++++++++++++++++++
“Let us head into the wilderness, men,” Cyrus said as he took a swig of his bloodwine. He was a vampire ancient for the Fangs and one of the members of their council. He turned from the road and entered the Great Forest. Its many trees swayed with the cool night air, their branches creaking a secretive language that none could understand. The leaves floated to the forest floor, only to wither and die, facing its apportioned fate. “If we want to arrive at the Fang Chapel before the sun’s rays can be cast upon us, we must hurry.”
The men nodded and formed a circular band around the Redguard. They began to trot forward, deeper and deeper into the forest, slowly losing the moonlight that guided them.
In a matter of moments, a sound rang out into the night. It was a howl. The group of men ignored it, as they decided that it was just a wolf howling at the moon. The trekked onward, only to hear the noise again, this time it was closer. The vampires suspected not a thing, simply believing that it was another wolf.
Then, a growl erupted from behind them. Cyrus spun around, silver blade drawn. It was a werewolf. Those beady black eyes pierced him through, surveying him for the kill. It bounded from the dirt, kicking up leaves and twigs in its wake. Cyrus’ guards moved in to attack. One cut the dirty man-beast across his large muscular arm, causing him to bleed out onto the cold hard dirt. It whimpered as it groped its arm and fell to the ground. “Is it dead, Geleborn?” Cyrus asked. If he had a heartbeat, it would have been bursting out of his chest.
“I think, sir,” Geleborn answered through huffs. He sheathed his weapon and bent down to examine the fallen wolf. The men did not know that the monster was holding its breath, waiting for its opportune moment to strike. His white fur glistened with his blood, still oozing from his arm.
Geleborn was looking at the wolf’s face, stern and in pain. Then, the wolf jumped from its fetal position and snapped at the High Elf in his face. The Altmer’s muffled screams could be heard, but were quickly silenced when the werewolf bit harder. Blood began to drip down the Altmer’s neck, staining his robes. The werewolf released the elf and turned towards the group behind him. They rushed in, swords drawn.
The werewolf slung its heavy paw into the side of first vampire, throwing him into the ancient oak. A crack came from his body, signifying his painful death. He ran into the others and tackled them to the ground, mauling their faces and mutilating their bodies. Once the screams had subsided, the wolf ran after Cyrus. Cyrus closed his eyes, hoping that his death would be quick and painless.
++++++++++++++
When the darkness enshrouded the day again, Acerbus woke from his bed and went upstairs to the market.
Acerbus looked around; no one was to be seen. He began to move forward into the council chambers, figuring that there was an announcement that had been made. He saw an apple on a table and snatched it from the clay bowl it was resting on.
He entered the crowded chambers, the chatter was loud. So loud, that Acerbus could not hear himself think. He saw Ralas, one of the ancients, step up to the podium. He shouted above the chatter, silencing the entire room.
“It has come to my attention that Cyrus, a beloved member of our fraternity, and his men have been slaughtered not far from our sanctuary. We suspect that this was no accident and that the vicious monsters we know as Lycanthropes have done this to them. The council and I have been discussing this since the late afternoon. The werewolves have pushed us too far this time around, killing our high ranking members and slaughtering our brethren. We do not know what we will do against them, but we assure you it will not be a slap on the hand,” he stepped down from the podium and entered the heavy wooden door behind him. One by one, the ancients filed into the pitch black room.
Acerbus turned and exited the chambers, hoping that a war would not break out among them.