Elder scrolls: Dead and damned

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Sylette's blatant disregard for modesty and her less than reserved attitude toward Ennoc was refreshing but the necromancer ultimately found it unwelcome. The closer she got the him, the further he stepped away from her. Despite his rather base desires, he held little interest in whatever she had to offer him besides ancient knowledge and secrets of the arcane.

Placing a bit of distance between the two, Ennoc listened to her suggestion, while the idea of the vampires looking for "leaders" among a horde of undead was humorous to him, he could see the benefit of having a shock force in the front line. Should a group of opponents rally forth against their forces a shout could disrupt their attack, not to mention that they might mistake a briarheart for a living man.

But then she said it, the thing that basically revealed a lot more to him than she had in a long time. ""Soon, even the most dangerous monsters of the night shall fear us."

Ennoc stepped back even further, his face locked in a grim scowl of disgust and anger. "Us? There is no us. After this business deal, you're on your own. If you want the things that go bump in the night to fear you, you might want to look for another way to do so, because once I have the information I want, there will be few reasons for me to keep you around. I did not get this far by making sure everyone knows and fears me."
 
It was clear that despite the obvious message Sylette was sending, Ennoc was not interested. No, it was stronger than this. The necromancer was not having a bar of her advances; for every step she took forwards, he took one back. But Sylette was old, and cunning, and was neither offended by his rejection nor dissuaded from her goal. She had been around for long enough to have confidence in her beauty; stronger men than Ennoc had succumbed to her. No, it was clear that he simply wasn't ready to move on from the sack of meat he kept freezing in his room.

But even this was of no matter. Ennoc had seen her in ways he had not before, had had the chance to move forwards. He had not taken it, but he would not forget her clad as she was, nor would he soon forget the image of her silhouette naked against the screen. Patience, she told herself. All in good time.

However, Sylette had far too much pride to let what the necromancer said next go unchecked. Just as his expression turned to one of disgust, her look of warmth turned to one of cold anger as she straightened, taking a step back and looking at the man imperiously. "If you presume to take that tone with me again, I will have your tongue, Breton. You grow bold in the power you have gained, but it is truly you who are the fool here. What I have given you so far is a raindrop, compared to the ocean of power I can lead you to, and yet already I see the toll that commanding even such a small number of forces takes on you. Perhaps you aren't worthy of my attention after all - do not be mistaken, I am here of my own will, not because you suffer me."

She turned and stalked towards her innermost chambers, her form swaying mesmerizingly beneath the thin velvet of her robe despite her fury. Turning at the door, Sylette cast one more scathing glance at the man. "The transport for your playthings will arrive two miles south of here at sundown tonight."

With that, the door slammed closed, followed by the audible sound of a bar sliding into place.
 
Anger flowed over Ennoc in such a force similar to how the waves swallowed up Winterhold in times long passed. Her increasing boldness in his hideaway and her constant arrogant behaviour even in the presence of a force that could easily overwhelm her was beginning to grow tiresome. The necromancer was starting to grow weary of having her around and each time she dared threaten him was a step closer to him ordering his servants to mount her head on a spike or chain her to her precious chamber's wall for him to experiment on her for as long as he pleased.

Enraged he walked toward his study, the mere thought of delving into ancient tomes already calmed his mind somewhat, but he stopped along the way to snatch a bucket of water from one of his servants dead hands. Gazing down into the water he could see she was right about one thing; the commanding of his tiny legion had taken a toll on him, most notably the increasing bags under his eyes and the fact that his skin had become sickly pale to the point he might as well be confused for a vampire himself.

He splashed the water in his face, it was cold, as well it should be for molten snow, but that was the point. Cool him down from both his anger and his detestable, base desires. He could hate her all he wanted but he could not deny the obvious. Though everytime he thought about her in such a way he immediately thought about how many other men she had used her charms upon. How many bodies left in how many beds?

Once in his study he opened his journal only to notice it was about to run out of pages, he got up from his desk and opened a drawer on one of his nightstands to take out another empty notebook. It was at that time he noticed he was running low on black soul gems, his creations and experiments burned through them at a pace he did not expect. After their little excursion to the Reach, he'd have to make a trip back to Fellglow to resupply.

For the rest of the day Ennoc searched through notebooks and tomes of wizards and necromancer who passed long ago. Secrets and nonsense was uncovered alike until the door flung open and before him stood an undead servant he had tasked with notifying him once the sun was starting to set. He gathered the belongings he deemed necessary and walked out into the main hall. For the first time in days the minions moved as Ennoc commanded them to follow him, but they didn't move for long as they stood and waited for their vampiric "ally" to join up with them.
 
No sound betrayed her approach. It was almost as if she popped into existence beside him; one moment there was nothing but air, the next a disdainful sniff sounded from beside Ennoc. Sylette did not so much as glance at him as she surveyed the undead horde gathered before them. It was an intimidating sight to behold, even as an ally of the force, but there was not a chance in Oblivion that she was going to tell Ennoc that. The fool of a mortal presumed too much of his own power, and too little of the influence she had on him.

Sylette stalked forwards, weaving through the ranks of undead without brushing a single one. She still had not said a word. She reached the main portal in and out of the great ruins, and without a moment's pause pulled open the huge doors effortlessly. Bitterly cold wind rushed into the hall, along with a flurry of snow. Outside, the final traces of light were vanishing as dark, heavy clouds began to cover the sky. "Two miles due south," said Sylette.

Then she was gone, vanished into the night.
 
CHAPTER TWO: ASSAULT ON WYRDENFELL​

A dew began to settle on the long grass as the sun sank behind the towering mountains to the west of the encampment. This far into the Reach, so close to the base of the northern Druadach Range that the towering peaks seemed to blot out half the sky, the sun always set early. Most travellers would consider this a hindrance, but for the denizens of this encampment, the setting of the sun is what signalled the true start of the day.

Sylette's eyes flickered open as starlight began to stream through the small crack in the curtain of her carriage. That would be her last rest in the relative comfort of the small, rickety thing for some time: from here on, they were travelling by foot.

Ennoc, his legion of undead soldiers and herself had been on the road for the better part of a month, travelling under the pretence of being a convoy of goods headed for Hammerfell. The convoy consisted of five massive, covered wagons, each drawn by a team of horses, as well as three smaller carriages: one for Sylette, one for Ennoc and one for the two men who acted as the owners of the convoy while Sylette and the necromancer rested during daylight hours. Of course, there was not a single good being transported within any of the five wagons, and if any were to inspect them they would be horrified to find each filled to capacity by undead warriors.

If only she hadn't already made arrangements for the extra carriage before Ennoc's final outburst at Labyrinthian. If she could have cancelled it, the necromancer would have been sleeping alongside his rotting minions for the whole journey. That, she thought, would have been much more fitting. Truth be told, Ennoc's final outburst at Labyrinthian had been the last time she had heard him speak - and the last time she had seen him had been that same day. Every night, as the convoy had drawn to a halt and night fell, Sylette would spring out of her cabin and into the night and not return until a pink glow heralded the coming dawn, trusting to the two men she had hired to field any questions Ennoc might have.

Unfortunately, tonight marked the end of her time spent ignoring him. The caravaneers would not be making the final part of the journey with them; instead, they would wait here with the convoy for up to two weeks before leaving. Truth be told, Sylette was not sure how she felt about the Breton. The wrath of a Vampire Lord was not something to invoke lightly, and would not fade in so short a time as three weeks. It still bubbled just below the surface of her calm, a volatile thing that would erupt with the slightest of prods.

And yet...

There was something about Ennoc. His quick ability to grasp power, his fortitude and strength of will, were all things that Sylette appreciated in a man. If any other man had spoken to her the way he had, looked at her with that expression of disgust she could still picture so clearly, then that man would be lying face down in a ditch, his throat torn open. But Ennoc... Despite his unwarranted arrogance, there was something about him that kept her from rash actions - for now, at least.

Sylette climbed down from her carriage, clad in the same dark leathers and voluminous black robe that she had been wearing upon first arriving in Ennoc's sanctum. A lamp in one hand, a rolled up piece of parchment in the other, she walked towards one of the flimsy tables that the two men had set up. She sat down and unfurled the map of the Wydernfell Den, looking over it in the flickering light of the lamp. She did not need the lamp herself - her eyes were more than capable of reading such a map on even the darkest of nights, but she knew Ennoc would rise soon, and tonight was the night.

Tonight, she would face him again.
 
Three weeks, three weeks they had been on the road and Ennoc was growing more and more impatient. He understood the need to be careful about the entire thing, after all no one would abide with a small army of undead marching halfway across Skyrim, but it was all going to slow for him. In the time it needed for these slow carriages to get them as far as they did, Ennoc could have moved his force on foot, albeit in a more obvious way.

At first the trip was extremely draining on both the Breton's mind and body with the lack of sleep attacking his physical self and the ceaseless screaming of agony of enough souls to fill a village attacking his mental self. In the first week he grew paler and sicklier each passing day to the point he had to chug down health and magicka potions in a similar manner that most Nords chugged down mead.

In time though he adjusted, the cries of pain and the struggle for dominance he was forced to endure no longer became a burden, but merely the status quo; he learned how to drown out their voices as well as how to mentally steel himself for each passing day. Once he set the entire burden aside his sleep soon became long and deep again and health returned to his body. At this point he looked better than he had in months; besides overcoming every hindrance his legion may have caused, the sunlight and fresh air did wonders in returning his body to that of a healthy man of his age. He had to admit that being holed up in a dark, damp Nordic ruin might have some disadvantages.

However one major advantage living where he did was something he had forgotten in the past days he had been living with the vampire Sylette: Silence. It was something he got reacquainted with over the course of the journey as he found the bloodsucker to act even more as a vain, spoiled child than he originally presumed. Much in the same manner a rebellious teenager locked itself away from its parents once something had been denied from them, the vampire locked herself away at night, within the night, because Ennoc had denied to be a tool for her. Truly, for all her power, all her knowledge, all her cunning and all her years on Nirn, she was still nothing more than a petty child wanting to play with the lives of mortals in a similar way a toddler plays with toys, only to cry when they're taken away.

Still, he had to acknowledge the fact that without her attempts at playful banter he found the entire last weeks to be dull and highly uninteresting, but he wondered whether this was because he had gotten used to her presence or because he had little to focus on in terms of work or experiments.

Those thoughts would have to wait for later, as for now he knew there were more important things at hand. Ennoc got down from his carriage, the gravel crunching beneath his feet as he moved toward the table Sylette had positioned herself at. At first, the Breton wanted to make a sarcastic quip about her finally getting over her sulky mood, mocking her while doing so, but he found it best not to antagonise her right before she would fight alongside him in a major battle. He merely gave her an acknowledging nod as he went to stand opposite her on the other side of the table.
 
She heard the distinctive crunch of gravel as soon as Ennoc left his carriage, but Sylette did not look up. Not immediately. She continued to look at the map, her expression focussed, as he came to a stop opposite her. Still, she did not look up, tracing with one graceful, sharp-nailed finger the contours of the map. Finally, the vampire turned her gaze towards Ennoc.

And was met with surprise. Even before she had given him the knowledge to enslave such a force of undead, the man had been pale and drawn, with dark bags under his eyes at all times and a slightly feverish look to his eyes. Necromancy was different from controlling thralls, but Sylette understood the taxing nature of maintaining dominance over such a force. Now.... Now he looked, well, whole. Some colour had returned to his skin; it was now a far cry from the icy pallor of her own. The bags and lines had vanished for the most part, and his face had lost its sunken, haunted look. Sylette was no fool: she knew this could not only be the effect of the fresh air and sunlight, but something more. Ennoc looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him; perhaps his control over the legion had become less of a burden? It was remarkable how quickly his mind was acclimatising to the struggle.

All this passed through her mind in an instant as Sylette regarded Ennoc with a level gaze, allowing nothing in her expression to give away her thoughts. "The den is not far. If we begin to move soon, we will reach it in the coming day." Sylette's mind was on nothing but the business at hand as she pulled a map of the area out from beneath the more specific map of the den, gesturing with her finger the winding route they would take. "It is an uphill walk, though there is little woodland to restrict our movement. I have been hearing reports of large groups of bandits moving towards this area from Hammerfell; perhaps your troops can be blooded before the coming battle."

Sylette looked up, her expression as still as a lake untouched by the wind. "As soon as you are ready, give the order. Every second we wait is a second closer to daylight, and with it our chances of arriving unheralded."
 
Ennoc cared little for bandits and the bandits would care even less for them, brigands are driven by greed and a lust for gold they would have no reason to attack a legion of undead, the losses would be too great and the rewards too few should they succeed. Still he would have his forces remain on guard, while the bandits to be of little importance, the forsworn slightly worried him; the madmen of the reach hate outsiders and many mountain clans have an even deeper routed hatred for necromancy. Combine the two and, well, they could end up being problematic.

"Very well." He said as he silently commanded his troops to sortie their vehicles "Let's be on our way." One by one the undead minions dropped from their rides, there where they had been seated motionless for the past three weeks. Each creature had their own sound as their feet hit the gravel; the bones of the skeletons sounded hollow, while the weight of the draugr was heavy and strong. The wraiths on the other hand were as silent as the grave they rose from.

Without waiting for Sylette, Ennoc gathered his small army around him and began heading up the hill, his servants basically served as a protective barrier around him each standing ready to meet any possible threat. While the hill was steep and they still had a long walk ahead of them, Ennoc kept a rather swift pace. This was simply because he was eager to get his hands on the knowledge he was promised on the necromantic arts, the idea of gathering powerful and ancient knowledge that was almost lost to the ages was intoxicating and completely overruled any feelings of fatigue he might've had or will have.
 
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Sylette kept her expression smooth while Ennoc talked; it was only when he had walked beyond her that she let her lips curl back in a feral snarl. Patience, she told herself, patience. Soon enough, the moment would come when a decision about the necromancer would have to be made. Until then, she would maintain this mask of civility. Oh, how she hated having to act in such a demure manner. One of her blood, of her ancestors - both Vampiric and Imperial - should not have to pretend meekness in order to keep a mortal in check, but these were extraordinary circumstances. Patience.

Ennoc's pace as he set off may have been fast for a Breton, but Sylette had power in her muscles that the man couldn't even begin to understand; for her, the pace was laughable. She sprung into the night, the shadows seeming to wrap around her like a protective cloak as she ranged the foothills of the mountain, maintaining a loose circle of patrol around the moving horde.

Several hours passed in this way, and although Sylette returned to the main party multiple times during her forays, she felt no need to talk to Ennoc when she did so, nor even alert him to her presence. It was after midnight when the vampire crested a hill to the northwest of their northbound group, beholding a sight that made her grin in anticipation. A camp of bandits. Judging by the number of fires that burned bright against Sylette's nocturnal eyes, there were upwards of thirty bandits in the camp. Perfect.

Soon, she would return to Ennoc and let him know of what she had found. It would be a good test, and one that would only divert them half an hour at most from their location. First things first, though...

With a grin, Sylette leapt into the night, descending on the unknowing camp of men below.

"Ennoc." She weaved between his ranks of undead, knowing that she would find the necromancer at the centre, hiding behind his minions in typical mage fashion. She soon reached his side, and matched his longer stride effortlessly. "There is a group of bandits situated less than twenty minutes northwest of here. I... questioned one of them before returning." Sylette's full red lips seemed even fuller and redder than normal, and her pale skin seemed to radiate vitality. "They have been marching hard for the last three months, and this has taken its toll on the men. We can come down on them from the hill above and overwhelm them."

"It will be a shade compared to what we will face at Wyrdenfell, but I'm anxious to see these creatures of yours in action before retreat is no longer an option."
 
As he and his forces marched toward the Wyrdenfell clan's lair, Sylette took it upon herself to be an advance scout, much to Ennoc's delight, he preferred that she kept her distance for the time being because her arrogant and infuriating behaviour was something he could do without. His mind was completely focussed on the upcoming battle, the extermination of an entire brood of nighspawn wasn't exactly easy, unlike men, families of vampires don't die if you cut off their heads.

Eventually though his vampiric ally showed her face again around midnight and told of a nearby bandit camp all the while not shying away from the fact she just recently fed. The Breton attempted to hide his disgust at her revelling of her fresh kill lest she throw a hissy fit yet again. Still the camp provided a chance for him to warm up his troops; he had never commanded such a force in battle before so a little practice wouldn't hurt.

"Okay, then, I could use a warm up." He said as he adjusted both his course and that of his servants. In a short walk they found themselves on a ridge overlooking the camp; a strategy was easily formed as to how Ennoc was planning on surprising the decent sized force of cutthroats.

Words weren't spoken as he gave his commands and his forces split up. Ennoc, as well as all his skeleton archers, remained on the ridge where they had a good view of the upcoming battlefield. He didn't have many of them, but there were enough. The rest of his troops went in seemingly all directions surrounding the camp.

After a short while Ennoc raised his hand and his archers made ready their arrows. The brigands down below had no idea what was about to come, their drunken revelry echoing of the mountainside. The necromancer was silent for a moment, seemingly waiting for... even he didn't know what. After a second or two he lowered his hand and pointed at the camp.

The arrows of his archers quickly found their targets as several bandits fell motionless to the ground. Before the rest could properly respond, Ennoc's skeleton vanguard charged from the darkness on one side and straight into the camp, cutting down bandits who didn't even have the time to grab their weaponry.

The swiftness of the attack and the sight of the undead rushing forth from the darkness must've been too much for some of the cutthroats and they ran as hard as they could in the opposite direction and straight into the wraiths that had cut off their retreat. Skewered by Ice spikes and spears, the cowards were flung back into the battlefield and fell dead amongst their comrades fighting a losing battle.

Here and there pockets of resistance could be seen as two or three bandits fought back-to-back against overwhelming odds, but these didn't last long. Instead most of the survivors gathered at the edge of a cliff where they formed a shield wall and stood at the ready to fight off any undead attackers. Little did they know there would be no more battle as three draugrs stepped forth from behind the skeletons and wraiths. With their gravelly, rough voice they said a mere three word and sent the remaining brigands screaming off the edge.

And that was that, no foe still stood before Ennoc's legion. The Breton decended from the ridge and gathered his forces around him again. It appeared as though they had no "casualties", though some skeletons had received minor damage. Not that it mattered, his reinforcements held strong and so did his skeletons.

Ennoc turned to Sylette with a look of absolute boredom which hid his true feelings of satisfaction over the absolute success of his creations. "There... Satisfied?"
 
Silence reigned as beside her, Ennoc raised his hand. Sylette felt the anticipation running through her, similar to the adrenaline she felt just before pouncing for her prey. The moment of calm before the storm.

This storm struck with the sound of creaking bones and blades cutting deep into unprotected flesh. And screams. As more of the bandits realized the nature of their assailants, more of them dropped their weapons and attempted to flee. Foolish, she thought, it is when prey turns its back that it is the most vulnerable. However, the vampire remained silent as she watched the wraiths dispatch the would-be deserters with violent efficiency. That was truly the best way to describe the entire massacre: efficient. One force commanded by a single mind... Sylette glanced at Ennoc out of the corner of her eye. Unsurprisingly, the man was focussed entirely on the battlefield before him, but though his expression showed the level of concentration he was maintaining, the Breton still had none of the weariness she had grown to associate him with. It truly was outstanding how much his control had already grown in the mere month she had known him.

One of the more powerful draugr servants unleashed his thu'um, and the battle was done. Sylette followed several steps behind Ennoc as he walked down to his forces, and had to conceal a smirk as he turned to her. His facade of nonchalance did not deceive her; she had seen him as the battle waged, had almost felt the power and concentrating emanating from him.

"There... Satisfied?"

"Hmm." Sylette surveyed the scene, her own expression neutral - as if the sight of an entire encampment of slaughtered bandits was a normal thing. "It is good to see that they can follow more complex orders than stop and go. Still," she sighed, poking at a corpse with the toe of her boot, "I will be interested to see how they fare against sterner opposition." She looked up at the sky, which still showed no signs of light. "We're making good time, but we need to continue." That being said, Sylette brushed past Ennoc, quickly disappearing in the shadows.


Sylette was still crouched over the bodies when the soft creaking of bones finally got through to her. She looked up as Ennoc's skeletal vanguard crested the ridge, the mountain trees dappling the moonlight on their skull. As the man himself crested the ridge, she straightened but made no effort to unclench her curled hands, or wipe the blood off of them. However, this was the only blood on her; both her face and her cloak were free of both rip and blood, unlike the two she stood over.

At her feet lay the crumpled, broken bodies of a man and a woman, their life blood slowly sinking into the earth. Their skin shared the same bone-white translucency as Sylette's, their eyes the same intense shade of red, but their faces were more gaunt, more haunted. More... feral.

Before he had the chance to ask a question, she started talking. "I found the trail of vampires tracking your movements. I managed to close in on them without alerting their attention, and one fell quickly. However, as I dealt with his sister, a third got managed to escape." Slowly, Sylette's hands unclenched from their claw-like position, blood running freely down her fingers before dripping to the ground. Her expression was severe as she turned to face the mountain. "I do not know whether they were a scouting party or simply hunting, but the Wydernfell Den is close. Very close. If they didn't know about us as soon as we started moving tonight, they do now."
 
As Sylette explained the situation to him, Ennoc couldn't be less amused. "This is less than optimal," he said, his face locked in a look of both disappointment and frustration. "For all your arrogance, your actual skills seem to be severely lacking."

Without waiting for her response, which Ennoc suspected would be anything but tempered, the Breton quickly hastened his pace to the Wydernfell caves. For him, this entire night had gone on long enough and with them now knowing of their arrival he needed to act quickly if they were to catch them in at least some disarray.

The entrance to the underground lair came in sight not long after. The dark chasm reeked of copper and death, a smell Ennoc knew all too well, only this place had it much much fiercer.

At first sight a mere two thralls appeared to be guarding the entrance, but soon after his initial viewing, two more popped out of the cave. They were quickly dispatched as ancient nordic arrows flew through the sky and pierced the flesh of these unwilling servants. With the main guards killed, Ennoc's skeletons swiftly rushed into the darkness under the mountain even as the sun brought its first rays of light to the surface. The wraiths silently followed suit, then the briarhearts and after them Ennoc marched into the vampiric lair accompanied by his remaining draugr.
 
Sylette kept her mouth firmly shut against Ennoc's derogatory remarks, even as he brushed past. Normally, even in such extraordinary circumstances, she would not let such a slight go unpunished, but this time it was worth keeping her desires in check. What she had failed to mention to the man was that these two vampires were both centuries old, seasoned hunters who would have both taken down men greater than Ennoc in their time. The man thought he was strong, but without his forces he was nothing.

Killing not one, but a pair of vampires so tough was not a trifling matter - but then, Sylette was no simple vampire. It also seemed that Ennoc had no concept of just how difficult it was to sneak up on a vampire, even for one of their own kind: Ennoc was quiet for a human, and yet even as he rounded the bend she could hear his footsteps, his breathing, his heartbeat even amongst the creaking and groaning that surrounded him.

But having Ennoc underestimate her abilities was certainly not a bad thing; in fact, she was happy to cultivate the notion. She fell back from the force as they came upon the entrance, letting Ennoc deal with the pathetic thralls that came scurrying out of the dark mouth of the lair. This was not her battle to fight. Not yet.


"The thralls keeping watch fell without a fight, my lord."

Erikur stood still as stone as he considered the news. In front of him, the young vampire - scarcely one hundred years old - kept his composure cool, but Erikur could smell the fear. It was understandable: if the man were to be struck down for his bad news, he would not have been his first. However, the tall, strong jawed vampire remained calm, pointing sharply at the map of twisting warrens that depicted his home. "Ready an ambush at this corner. Send a mixture of thralls and some of our younger brood."

"Yes, my lord."

Erikur said nothing, turning instead to look up at the throne that towered above him and the stern, silent vampire that sat upon it. Time to see what this force is made of, he thought grimly.


Despite the sun that rose behind them, Ennoc's forces were plunged into almost complete darkness as they rounded the first of what were to be many sharp turns. Of course, it made sense; vampires would not need the light to see by, and it would only benefit Ennoc's troops.The first few turns were met without resistance, the only sounds the creaking of bones and heavy boots against damp stone.

It was when they reached a junction that the ambush struck: a cacophony started as a mass of shouting thralls charged the side of Ennoc's skeletal vanguard. Even as they did so, a smaller group of vampires dropped from the uneven, shadowed ceiling, directly a knot of answers. Immediately, one swung a vicious hand, caving in the skull of a skeleton and crushing its skull as the others whirled for targets.
 
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The skeletons took the brunt of the attack and immediately one went down while others raised their shields to guard themselves from the mass of bodies and steel directed their way. The vampires descending from on high believed themselves to be smart in their actions, but a thu'um from one of Ennoc's draugrs sent them back from their positions on high.

One of the briarhearts took no time in assaulting the thralls held back by the skeletal shield wall; he rushed toward the frontline and jumped on the shoulder of one of the skeletons, using it as a way of jumping over the clash of flesh and bone. Like a hurricane wielding fiery steel, the briarheart sowed chaos in the lines of the subjugated servants of the vampires. the suicidal attacks, raw power and the ability to withstand a lot of abuse were some of the staples of the strange undead originating from the Reach. The entire situation allowed for a counteroffensive by Ennoc's forces as they pushed the thralls back, their steel coming down hard upon their ambushers taking many limbs with them.

As the vampires recovered from being thrown around like ragdolls by the ancient nords, the wraith delived their icy doom as the bloodsuckers were turned into pin cushions by a barrage of ice spears and ice spikes. Few tried to get away, but they wouldn't get far as Ennoc fired upon their retreat with the spell vampire's bane, sending explosive balls of light their way, burning them in ways mortal men couldn't comprehend.

With the ambuscade fought off with minor losses, Ennoc reformed his minions' lines and marched deeper into the den. The darkness was almost impenetrable, but a few casts of magelight fixed that problem right away.
 
The vampire who had been watching the battle from the rocky ceiling quickly climbed back into one of the narrow tunnels concealed by a jagged scar in the rock before scampering back in the direction of the throne room. The tunnels were absolute in their darkness, even for a child of the night, and far too narrow to turn around in if one made a wrong turn. But this vampire had travelled these tunnels since he was a fledgling, and cut through all the twists and turns of the caverns below, landing after mere moments before the general.

"My lord... Multiple skeletons were taken down, as well as one that appeared to be the Forsworn spawn of a hagraven, but ultimately the force was repelled with little difficulty. It seems the blades of even the lesser infantry have been enchanted to burn."

Erikur ran a hand through his thick, silver hair, but otherwise remained just as composed. "There are Briarhearts in the mix? Where did such a force assemble, and how?" His thick eyebrows came together. "Any survivors?"

"None, my lord. Several of the fledglings tried to flee, but were burned to ashes before they could escape.

"Very well." If the loss of the his forces pained the vampire, it didn't show. "We need more information, and soon. Gather ten Bruisers, ten Sappers, and five watchers." The young vampire's eyes widened; such a force would be enough to take down an armed camp, most likely without loss. Erikur saw the reaction, but said nothing. "Here's what I want them to do..."


Sylette was pleased with the progress Ennoc's forces were making; they had been met with no more resistance than the occasional pair of vampires for the past ten minutes, and wound ever deeper into the cave system. Though the sudden attacks had managed to bring down several skeletons and a draugr lord, not a single one of the assailants had escaped. Sylette felt a small twinge of regret at the death of so many children of the night - especially those who fell to Ennoc's Holy Fire - but satisfaction glazed over these small pains as she saw retribution being exacted.

Still, the simple ease with which they moved forward worried her as much as it pleased her, for surely something would be lying in wait. Sure enough, soon she heard footsteps headed their way, fast. Sylette moved into the shadows as ten vampires garbed in similar hooded cloaks to Sylette's own appeared in the gloom ahead, sprinting directly at the force. Arrows were loosed, but the vampires moved so quickly they seemed to flicker, and then they were upon them. The ten split up into two groups of five: while three would target a Briarheart or draugr lord, the other two worked together in fending off the lesser minions that sought to disturb their battles.

Simultaneously, thin tendrils of red extended from both sides of the tunnel. On both sides, five tendrils attached to a wraith, and in moments both wraiths began to wither as their life force was rapidly absorbed. Other wraiths would find their ice spikes to have little effect on their arcane assailants.

"Ennoc!" Sylette cried, her calm broken in the passion of battle. "These vampires haven't fed for a while. They are stronger, faster, more savage... And your wraiths will do little to them." Already, the first two wraiths had withered into almost nothing, their otherworldly shrieks fading away.
 
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Ennoc was taken aback by the raw power displayed by these vampires, he hadn't expected it all to go easy, but the way they forced his troops into such a desperate struggle was both impressive and terrifying. He had to act quick and strong if he was planning on defeating them with some servants intact.

First he wrapped himself in Stendarr's aura, he also called to two of his draugr to protect him since he needed time for what he was about to do. The Breton closed his eyes and held his hands before him as though he was holding an invisible orb, and then he began whispering; the words he spoke weren't Tamrielic, nor were they deadric or dragon tongue. What he spoke was a forgotten tongue of ancients passed. In his hands formed a swirling ball of purple darkness as the incantation went on and at this point the vampires took notice of what he was doing.

Two of the cloaked figures dealing with his skeletal servants abandoned their attack on the bony warriors for the newly acquired and higher ranking target though each was stopped in its tracks by both the shouts and the strength of Ennoc's draugr bodyguards. Perhaps the vampires were strong enough to deal with the shuffling nords, but no one would ever know as Ennoc finished the last words of the spell and stretched his arms to the side.

The dark sphere opened up a rift and called forth beings from the deepest, darkest pits of the soul cairn, and the soul cairn answered; Three figures came forth from the rift. Two of them were wrathmen, they who render their rage onto the ages, wielding weapons of dragonbone and clad in ancient nordic armor. They stormed forth toward the two vampires assailing Ennoc and with terrifying strength one of them cleaved a vampire in half as though he was cutting through butter. The other vampire had more sense as he rose his weapon to block the oncoming attack, but the powerful weapon of the Merethic era cleaved right through the modern steel and the bloodsucker alike.

But is was the third being that came from the portal that truly brought the power of the ideal masters to Nirn; a keeper, a towering figure clad in armour forged the bones of powerful dragons, its face was nothing more than a dark fog with two purple eyes that peered straight forward, wielding an enormous bone in one hand as though it was a warhammer.

The enormous monster charged forth toward the vampires at a speed unnatural for something that size and carrying that amount of weight, each swing of its mighty weapon sent a vampire flying across the room with shattered bones like a limp rag doll. Together with these three new beings, the forces of Ennoc drove back their assailants to the darkness from whence they came.

Ennoc on the other hand was doing much worse on his own, he hated having to call forth from the soul cairn because of the ideal masters. He had paid his end of the bargain to acquire the knowledge needed to summon forth the masters' servants, but they still loved to torment him each time he did. Blood flowed from the nose of the necromancer as he felt the soul cairn tugging away at his soul without taking a piece, it was as if his very being was being torn between Nirn and the oblivion plane.

After a little while Ennoc regained his strength and witnessed his forces; many had fallen but his strongest creations still stood strong. These undead, along with the three new allies, he believed there were enough to press onward.
 
Erikur listened in disbelief to the report of the five slim, bright eyed vampires standing before him. Strange creatures that seemed to exude sheer emptiness? His Watchers had never failed him before, but this... This was almost too hard to believe. What manner of creatures were they, that they could wipe out a task force of his elite soldiers without a single one escaping? For the first time in a century, Erikur's temper got the better of him: in a blur of movement too fast to follow, the table he had been leaning on was nothing more than splinters.

"ENOUGH!"

He bellowed so loudly that dust fell from the high ceiling. "These undead, they only have a mind because they are following the Breton's orders." Just who was this Breton necromancer, and how did he command such power? "If they are separated, what remains of his forces shall be dealt with easily."

But would it truly be easy? The necromancer's forces may have suffered losses, but they had the superior numbers. Taking the remnants down would be a challenge, whether the necromancer was around or not, but Erikur was not worried. The Wydernfell Coven had not survived for so long because they shied away from challenges. He quickly outlined his plan, and where to place the remaining troops. Soon, his orders were being carried out.

"My lord..." Erikur turned to see that one of his Watchers had not left. Impatiently, he raised an eyebrow. "There is one more thing to report. There was another - a vampire no less - that we saw."

As the watcher described the vampire in question, Erikur's fists clenched. Well, at least it solved the question of how the Breton discovered the means to control such a force. The vampiric general had no objects left to destroy; instead, his fist lashed out at the watcher, sending the body flying into the wall. The corpse left a crater on impact before sliding brokenly to the ground.

While his body shook with barely contained rage, Erikur heard laughter rolling from the throne above him.


"We draw close to the throne room," Sylette said as she strode alongside Ennoc. She had been worried when she had seen the blood flowing from his nose; if he died, his minions would revert to their former mindless state, attacking anything that moved, and she did not want to be amongst them if that happened. "Just one more turn..."

The roof above them collapsed in an explosion of rubble. If it weren't for Sylette's inhuman reflexes, Ennoc would have perished beneath the rockslide - as it was, she only had time to roughly knock him backwards before leaping out of the way herself. When the dust settled, Sylette saw that only herself, Ennoc and the tallest of his monstrosities remained. Everything else was either crushed, or separated by a near impenetrable wall of debris.

Although even those who had survived might not for much longer, she realized as the sounds of combat came to her sharp ears from the other side of the blockage. Even as she strained her ears to try and see how the battle was faring, a deep, chilling laugh sounded from behind. What she saw made her stop cold.

"Well, what have we here?" The speaker was a tall vampire with a strong jaw and silver hair. His regal, multicoloured finery did little to disguise the lean, muscular body underneath. "A vampire and a necromancer? It sounds like one of those vile songs the bards so love to sing. Tell me, mortal," he said, his emotionless eyes scrutinizing Ennoc. "What is your name? Word of your exploits deserve to survive, even if your soul does not. Let it never be said that Erikur, General of Wydernfell, is not generous."
 
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Ennoc was surprised at both the trap concocted to destroy his forces without a fight as well as the fact Sylette saved his life, it was no mystery they held little love for one another. From his embarrassing position on the ground, the Breton saw that most of his force was buried beneath piles of rocks and dirt and those that weren't were caught in a fierce battle at the the other side of the rubble. All except his keeper, the strongest being he can conjure up.

But then he noticed that imposing figure appearing from the shadows, his refined features, his commanding presence, but most of all: that overwhelming power that he seemed to exude. In the sight of such a being and such power, Ennoc finally realised the reason so many people sought out to become a creature of the night. It was intoxicating, overpowering... addicting.

As the necromancer got to his feet, the vampiric master flattered and threatened him at the same time, asking his name for it to be recorded by immortal beings. Ennoc grinned, perhaps as a countermeasure to the overwhelming presence of the vampire, and replied "If you're of the mind that a name of a powerful being should outlive the body, then you should be the one to tell me yours."

With a wave of his hand Ennoc cast aside their little conversation and commanded his keeper to assault the nightspawned monster before them. The towering nightmare from Oblivion rushed forward, his bone hammer finding nothing but rock and stone as every swing of the creature was dodged by the dark lord and shattered even the toughest of surroundings.

For the first time in a very long time, Ennoc felt fear as his greatest servant was being toyed with as though it was a child in the presence of a seasoned warrior. More servants were needed, if they could not overpower the beast, they would overwhelm it. With a flick of his hands he brought forth his two subjugated ghosts, the forsworn and the vigilant. Without a word they too charged at the foe.
 
Even as the other two minions joined the fray, Erikur's expression did not change. His face was calm, even serene, despite the fact that he was dodging blows coming from three directions at once. Worse still was the fact that despite the apparent ease with which he dodged the huge club of the Keeper and the smaller, ethereal blades of the ghosts, the vampire did not attempt even a single blow upon his foes.

"Come now, is this all?" Erikur's voice was as steady as if he was standing motionless. "I must admit, I'm disappointed. Particularly in you, Sylette."

Erikur was not just fighting defensively. He was toying with them.

Little surprise there, Sylette thought even as she ignored his taunts. Erikur didn't rise to power through his charisma. Even with such a strong conjured ally, Sylette had little hope in Ennoc's chances against the Elder Vampire. But if Erikur was here, then that meant... "Ennoc," she breathed beside his ear in a voice so low that even the keen ears of a vampire like Erikur couldn't hear. "Hold out as long as you can."

And then without another word she was gone, disappearing into the shadows of a side passage hidden cleverly behind a jutting pillar of stone.

"Even your strongest ally leaves you, little necromancer," Erikur teased, "so what does that spell for you?" Suddenly, the vampire acted: faster than the eye could follow, Ennoc's ghosts were rent from this plane of existence, and a moment later his Keeper was skidding across the ground towards him, half of its now shattered bone club sticking out of its chest. Still, it made it back to its feet.

"I do hope you have something more to offer, mortal, or this truly has been a great waste of my time."
 
Damn that vampiric bitch! Ennoc thought as Sylette left him. She had led him straight to face this monster alone and the Breton had close to nothing left to give. He didn't know much destruction magic nor did he have any special spells held back in cases such as this, and even if he did his pool of magicka was close to running out.

He only had one last trick up his sleeve; he closed his eyes and focused as his keeper went to stand between him and the vampire. Even if his conjuration from the soul cairn could hold his foe back a second it would be more than nothing at all. Instead of drawing power from his own well, Ennoc began to draw it from the skies above, from the ritual constellation .

The figure of the constellation began to form around his right eye as the corpses around them began to tremble and rise; vampires, draugrs, skeletons, thralls,... Anything that was dead began to rise under Ennoc's command and all turned toward Erikur. This was his last attempt, his final shot to live through this, this was his birthright. Without a word from the necromancer every reanimated body charged at the vampire lord with the intent of protecting their new master.

If this didn't work then it was over for Ennoc, and so he sat down to rest. Even if his minions would lose it would not matter if he stood ready or prepared, if he was going to die, he was going to do it as comfortably as possible.
 
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