Here it is! Part Two of my story, The Vampire's Tale. While I originally never thought of making a sequel, I felt that the story was too good to pass up. I can only hope that the continuation of this tale can live up to its predecessor. Look at this like it is Chapter Two of the tale. I hope you enjoy "Chapter Two" and the following chapters, which I will enventually write, as much as the original. I welcome any critiques, which can be left on the talk page for this article. Thanks, guys, and I hope you enjoy Gallen's tale.
Snowmane(talk•email)
The Vampire's Tale: Crimson-TailEdit
The roads were empty in Cheydinhal, and the normally visible twin moons Masser and Secunda were covered by a thick layer of clouds. The rain was falling hard. The normally clean streets and porches were covered in thick layers of mud, and nobody was outside who didn't have to be… Except for one who had just woken up, and was stepping outside to brave the early night and the rain. He wore a thick traveling cloak in a vain attempt to keep the weather off of him. As a member of the Argonian race, the weather itself wasn't much of a concern. What was concerning the Argonian was his ability to find a meal. Not very many people would be outside in these conditions, and he was in no mood to enter anybody's homes.
A sharp, cold wind hit the Argonian full in the chest, waving the cloak around at his ankles and blowing the hood off of his head. If there was anyone outside, they would have surely seen that he was no normal Argonian. For the last 4 years, he traveled around Cyrodiil at night, feasting on the living.
The Argonian looked around, and saw nobody on the main road. There were only a few guards outside. Hungry as he was, the Argonian knew he was no match for a city guard. He walked towards the gate, about to leave the city, when one of the guards approached him.
"Excuse me, sir", the Imperial said. "Are you 'Crimson-Tail'?"
The Argonian gasped. How does the guard know me, he thought. He was only out at night, and he never stayed in one town for more than a week at a time. Cautiously, he decided to reply.
"Yes. What business to you have with me?"
"Crimson-Tail", the Imperial began, "A friend of yours passed through here earlier today. He told me you would be out at this time. He wanted me to tell you to meet him at the "Dragon". Said his name was Draconis. Does that mean anything to you?"
Crimson knew what it meant. The Drunken Dragon was an Inn on the east side of the Nibenay going towards Leyawiin. The one friend he had. Well, the one person he talked to regularly, at least.
"Yes. Thank you. Have a nice evening."
"You too, sir. If you are setting off to travel somewhere tonight, then Divines watch you. This is terrible weather", the guard said.
Crimson nodded, and then walked through the heavy gate out of Cheydinhal. Once outside, he ran through the trees beside the outer wall, expertly dodging roots and undergrowth, despite the poor conditions. When he was about 200 feet from the gate, he stopped behind a thick tree.
Dropping to one knee, Crimson sniffed the ground. This was it. The place where he had buried a small chest with some stolen gems that he wanted to sell, along with his bow, arrows, and a small steel dagger.
Crimson picked up the dagger, and ran his hand over the smooth side of the blade. This was a particularly special weapon to him. He had killed many people with it when he was a mortal. Now, he kept it for sentimental value, rather than as a weapon. He no longer needed a blade. As a vampire, he was faster, stronger, and more agile than a typical opponent. His claws, and more importantly his fangs, were all he needed. The arrows, he sometimes used, if he wanted to play with a victim before finishing them off.
Standing up, he put the quiver and bow over his shoulder, put the dagger at his waist, and stuffed the small sack of gems into his pocket. Crimson closed the lie to his metal box and buried it again. He had similar chests outside of each major city in Cyrodiil so that he wouldn't have to carry his stolen stuff into town with him.
Crimson walked a few hundred feet west, parallel with the road. He didn't want to come out of the shrubs in sight of the guards at the gate. When he finally got back onto the road, he looked around. There was a small memorial near him. Nothing fancy, it was just a wooden cross with a sword resting against it. A tribute to a poor villager that Crimson had killed the other day. He looked at it in disgust. It was only a poor merchant. A man Crimson had stalked for days. He was a drunk. A man who spent every penny he had on wines he couldn't afford. Crimson was certain nobody would have missed him.
Turning, Crimson walked further down the road before stopping. He could hear horses not too far away, and what sounded like crying. Curious, he ducked into the shrubs to watch. A woman and an infant came around the corner, heading towards Cheydinhal. Why they were traveling was beyond him, but Crimson was never one to turn down a free meal. In this storm, it was probably the best he would find outside of a town anyways.
Jumping out of his hiding place, Crimson knocked the woman off the horse. The basket holding the baby was tied down, but it was jarred loose, and it was scraping on the ground. The sudden attack, and the woman's piercing scream startled the horse and it took off running, dragging the basket on the ground. Crimson held the woman in place, hand over her mouth, watching for the horse. The basket hit a rock and the infant flew out into the road, where it was trampled by the horse. Crimson could barely smell the blood over the rain, but it was definitely spilled.
Turning to the woman, Crimson put her on her knees. She struggled weakly, but before she could put up a real fight, he sank his fangs into her. The taste of her blood was better than the finest of wines to Crimson. He closed his eyes, enjoying the kill. After a minute, he laid down the body and rummaged through her dress. Finding what he wanted, a sack of coins, Crimson stood up. He ducked back into the trees and snuck back towards where the baby was. Hearing voices, he climbed a tree to get a better view. The baby's head had been crushed by the horse. The guards near the gate had seen the horse running up with the dragging basket and bags, so they went to investigate, and were standing over the body. Over the thunder, he could hear one of the guards saying that he was going further down the road to look around.
Crimson ran quietly along the branches, jumping from tree to tree, back to the woman's body. Since she was on this side of the road, Crimson could actually hear the guards talking.
"Captain, this Redguard has been killed by this injury to her neck. Bite marks of some kind. What is it, sir?"
The captain knelt down, looked at the body for the briefest of moments, then replied instantly, "This is a vampire's attack no doubt. The extra fang marks appear to be either Khajiit or Argonian. Definitely not a man or mer's bite. Go inform the other captains of the watch. Wake the whole guard. Have them suit up and meet me at the stables. We need to comb the area around town. I heard rumors of a coven nearby from an adventurer the other day. The odd traveler once in a while, although it is a problem, is not a concern, but this is the 5th victim that I know of within a week. Hurry, and Divines preserve you!"
The guardsman took off running towards town. Crimson decided that he had over stayed his welcome. The guards were going to actively search for him now. This coven of vampires, he knew nothing about, but he didn't want to investigate the truth of the rumor. Especially not when the whole town was on alert now.
Pulling out his bow and arrows, Crimson took aim at the captain. He wanted to have some fun before leaving. Taking aim, he fired at the man's knee. Screaming in pain, the captain fell to the ground. Crimson dropped down, and walked up to him. The guard drew his sword and pointed it at him.
"By order of the Emperor, I demand you to stop, lizard! Surrender peacefully, and you will live."
Crimson pulled back his hood, revealing his vampiric face, and laughed.