User:Damon/The Vampire's Tale/1

The Vampire's Tale is a story, told by a vampire, about his transformation, to a lonely Redguard. Remember, you can leave your thought, comments, critiques, etc. in the talk page. I look forward to hearing anything that could improve my writings. I hope you like it.

Many thanks,
E. Snowmane

The Vampire's Tale

The rain was falling softly as Gallen rode up the road, the soft tapping of the rain on his back and the cold wind a constant reminder of the misery to come. It was the 23 of Evening Star and 40 degrees outside. Not that It would be any better. The Cheydinhal Guard Captain had posted a warning to all travelers on the road that a vampire coven was located on the road to Cheydinhal. Four merchants were dead on the side of the road in a week, and two other travelers, a Redguard woman and her daughter, Gallen’s family, dead outside the Cheydinhal stables.

Arriving at a lake near the cave, Gallen climbed off his horse and walked a couple yards to a small waterfall. Sticking a small goblet near the water in it, he rinsed it off and filled it. Taking a deep drink of the cold water, Gallen shuddered, resisting the urge to break down. He was 48 and not getting any younger, years of service in the Blades had prevented him from having a family, and his wife and two year old daughter were dead!

Returning to the horse, he grabbed his Blades helm and donned it. Grabbing his shield and Akaviri Katana, Gallen proceeded towards the cavern. A rotting sign said “Barren Caves, KEEP OUT!” Gallen drew his katana and pushed the door open, hoping the loud creak wouldn’t alert the occupants of the cave.

The cave was dark. You couldn’t see further than a few feet in front of you. Gallen inched slowly forward through the caves. About a hundred feet in, Gallen could see a flickering fire in a couple feet deep drop in the cavern. Walking up to the lip, Gallen could see several coffins in various states of disarray. Three vampire stood around the fire, chatting amongst themselves.

Drawing out an iron bow and a silver arrow, Gallen took aim at the closest one. Whispering, “Stendarr watch over me,” he fired, hitting the vampire in the heart. The vampire collapsed, and in a flash, the other two were upon Gallen. He barely had time to drop the bow and bring the sword and shield around. Raising the shield, he deflected a strike by one of the vampire’s hammers. Following the attack, Gallen thrust out his shield, staggering the vampire, and swinging his katana at the other. The other vampire didn’t have a chance to react, the katana plunged through his midsection and came out the other side. Gallen, in a furious rage and coursing with an adrenaline rush he had never known, twisted and pulled the katana to the side. The sword’s sharp blade came out between the vampire’s ribs, leaving the torso only halfway attached at the waist. Turning, he saw the other vampire had the hammer up, and this time Gallen was not in a position to block it. The hammer struck Gallen hard on the head and he blacked out.

Hours later, with a large lump on his head, Gallen woke up. Looking around, he found himself in a makeshift cell in a strange room. This was definitely not the cavern. The vampire sat nearby, admiring the Akaviri katana. The vampire stood up, and gave the sword an experimental swing in the air, apparently feeling the weight.

Noticing Gallen, he said, “Oh good, Redguard. You’re awake. I was afraid you had died.”

Narrowing his eyes, Gallen replied, “What do you want with me, vampire scum?”

Sighing, the vampire said, “So rude. I was expecting a civilized conversation with you, human. Please, oblige. I am the one with the blade, and you are the one in a cage. Now I hate to have to kill you, especially before I can say what I want to tell you. Now for the sake of a civilized conversation, my name is Jean-Pierre. And you are?”

Suspiciously, Gallen responded, “Gallen. OK Jean-Pierre, you have my attention.”

“Most excellent. I know why you came here. I found the letter in your clothing. Your wife, Amelia and your young girl, Rosalyn. I am sorry, I truly am. I know you think of me as a monster, but let me say, I was in your shoes once. I had a young family. It was 200 years ago. I served the local guard in Kvatch. I was outspoken against vampiric activity, and I had personally overseen countless raids across County Kvatch against various vampire covens. I believe I had killed approximately 150 vampires in my time.”

Gallen stood up, “If you are so against vampires, why are you still alive as a vampire?”

Handing Gallen a bottle of Tamika’s wine, Jean-Pierre continued.

“Have a drink. And let me continue my tale. Then I will leave you to your own judgement. I was stricken with vampirism when I was in Kvatch with my family. A vampire from the last raid had survived, apparently. He came to my house in a full brown robe, dressed like he could have been a priest. He was resting on an old cane. Declaring himself to be a traveling monk, he asked if he could come in and rest. Though his hood covered his face, I could see enough to notice how elderly he appeared, and tired he looked. I invited him into my home and fed him my food. Then he stood up, throwing aside the cloak. I could see his pale pink eyes and hungered expression. I also noticed a signet ring on a gold chain, that I remember seeing in the cavern so very clearly. He fired a blast of lightning, killing my wife and unborn son instantly. Then he fed on me until I was barely alive. Turning to the door, he said I would suffer for eternity for the death of his “family,” as he referred to the coven as.”

Gallen sat thoughtfully on the stone bed. Jean-Pierre opened the door and said, “Please, sit with me over here at the table. I do not wish to harm you. I hope that thus far I have proven myself worthy of your confidence.”

Nodding, Gallen moved to the sitting area, and grabbed a goblet of water.

“Please, Jean-Pierre. Continue,” he said.

“So I lay in my house. My pregnant wife dead, and I was too weak to move. After two days, a guard entered, looking for me to know why I was late for duty. I was deathly pale, not yet a vampire, but too weak to move. I was in and out of consciousness, but I woke in a chapel room, with a cool towel on my head. A priestess told me I was almost dead when the guard found me. I was delirious, mumbling ‘he killed her. The dark one.’ The guard thought me insane and took me to the chapel for treatment. I was feeling stronger when I awoke in the chapel. I know now that it was the vampirism. It had finally fully manifested. I was everything I swore to destroy. I arose from the bed and pounced on the young priestess, feeding and killing her in the process. In that first feed, I couldn’t control myself as I do now. I do not kill. I never did again after that first feed. I left the chapel, knowing the woman’s scream would alert someone, and returned to my house.

I could see the world in a new way. I could smell the guard who found me, my wife, and the vampire. I followed his scent to Anvil, where he was in an old tavern, again posing as a traveler. I saw him turn, recognizing me. He left quickly, and I followed him. When he turned the corner towards the castle, I ran full speed at him and jumped onto him. He staggered and tried to throw me off, but the blade was across his throat already and he lay dead in the street. Picking up his fallen torch, I laid it on his cloak. He quickly became engulfed in flames. For the past 200 years, I have killed many vampires, continuing my work. I have become accustomed to my curse. It has given me until the end of time to vanquish all evil, I have enhanced senses and tracking abilities, and I have been able to conceal my appearance through feeding, and continue to lead a fairly normal life.”

Standing up, Jean-Pierre walked around to the table and picked up Gallen’s gear.

“Here,” he said. “I want you to have this. I do not wish to kill you. I have told you my story, and I want you to know that it was not I, who killed your children. I am sorry I had to injure you, but I had to defend myself, and you would not have listened to me unless you were captured. Go in peace. Or kill me. I know that in your heart, you are a vampire hunter now. You will do this, for Amelia and Rosalyn, until you die. I have lived a good life. Feel free to take it. I also offer you my dark gift, to use as I did, killing those dark murderers.”

Gallen took the Blades gear, and strapped up in it.

“Thank you, Jean-Pierre. But your story has touched me. I do not wish to kill you, and I respectfully decline your offer.”

Smiling, Jean-Pierre said, “Very well, Gallen. Remember me. And I can smell your family’s killer, he left the cave hours before you arrived. He can normally be found at The Drunken Dragon. Good luck. I will be here if you ever want to see me.”

Turning towards the door, Gallen said, “Where are we anyway."

"We are in the Old Manor, right down the road from your home, Gallen. We are less than an hour from sunrise, and I must sleep. Take care, my friend.”

Turning, Jean-Pierre walked into the darkness of the house towards his room. Gallen, donning his helm, picked up the sword and shield, and left walked towards the front door, a determined look in his eyes. The Drunken Dragon was a half day away, and if he hurried, he could catch the vampire in his sleep.