17th of Last Seed, 3E 205

Somewhere near Winterhold lived a legendary Troll that all at that time was called Grunt Untul which in the Ancient Nord language means "Giant Troll." It was not a very cleaver name of course but it wasn't really meant to be. It served as a warning to any traveler foolish enough to try their luck at claiming the Skull and Fat of such a creature. Many a brave warrior had traveled the path known to be Grunt Untul's doorstep and were never seen from again. For it was said that unlike most Trolls this one was under the protection of the Daedric Prince known as Hircine.

Hircine favored this particular Troll for some unknown reason. Some of the most famous heroes at the time claimed that when they had the opportunity to ask Hircine himself about it. He simply replied: "What concern is it to you?" Or just simply laughed manically and ignored answering them at all outright. So it was said that for whatever reason that a Daedric Prince does anything, is usually to best serve their own interest in some fashion or another. Even the bravest of the brave warriors had better things to do then to work against the wills of the Daedric Princes.

On the 17th of Last Seed, during the 3rd Era in the year of 205 someone encountered the beast and somehow lived to write a Journal Entry about it. We cannot prove that this is in fact a true account of an eye witness, but many believed the man who wrote it to be an honest man.

17th of Last Seed, 3E 205

Feels lucky to be alive today. Went on a hike. Ran into a pack of wolves. Wolves were luckily chased off by a group of local hunters. Decided to pick Snowberries instead, stayed along the road. Found myself facing a massive bear. Thought for sure that my luck had ran out. But it was not to be. Just as the bear was charging me the largest Troll I have ever seen sidelined the bear. The battle between beast and beast began. It was a short battle. The bear's skull was quickly crushed by the giant fist of the Troll. This was not a runt of a bear either it was easily two large men tall and was a healthy weight for that size. The Troll was as tall as one of them Giants that herd the Mammoths. I ran. Ran as fast as I ever had before. Found a small opening on the side of a hill and quickly crawled into it. It was made by a fox that was away foraging. I heard him outside the hole, he could smell me but he could not locate where my smell was coming from. I stayed in that hole for as long as I could before making my way back home. I was sure that the Troll was going to find me and devour me whole, but it never happened.

The Author of the Journal was a man known as Jorn Steel-breaker. He was known as a loyal son of Skyrim, and was a well respected member of his community.

20th of Evening Star, 4E 199

There is a light rainfall dampening the farmland of Rorikstead. Many of the settlements inhabitants have settled inside of the Frostfruit Inn to stay warm and dry out of the rain. The Inn keeper Mralki worked out a deal with Rorik to advance the Inn a large pig to be roasted over its fire for the night. The entire settlement was going to attend but only half had made it there so far. Still many faces were in the room, and a few strangers as well. Sitting in a group of chairs that faced the far wall of the Inn. All three had the demeanor of low lives, cut purses, or worse. Bandits inside of the Inn however was nothing new.

Mralki was still a bit on edge due to them having to be there on this particular evening however, it was his son Erik's birthday celebration. He did not want any trouble to wreak the event, and he was keeping a close eye on these men. They sat in a small group and were exchanging words in hushed voices, whispering back and forth to one another. One of the three men carried a large leather sack around with him, that had something large bulky and heavy within. Mralki was the suspicious type and had double checked his inventory, they had not stolen anything from his Inn so it was none of his business. Still he was very curious.

"I am tellin' ya lads it was unnatural the way I found them. Even for them." the man with the large sack said to the two others.

They both snicker a bit before the older of the two replies. "That is what ye get for dealing with them sort. Them blood suckers have many a enemy. Mages from Winterhold, as well as them damn Companions there is Whiterun." he says threw his rotten teeth.

"Twas not the same as what I have seen before from the likes of them. The Companions are not the type to leave all the loot behind. Mages are greedy as well, they have to be. All of their ingredients and spell books are expensive. Nothing was taken. Just smoldering piles of ash on the ground of the Pinemoon Cave. The Master vampire that I was working for had a ton of treasure in his bed chambers. Who would just leave that kind of loot behind. It just doesn't make a lick of sense I tells ya."

"Maybe it were The Hand." the younger of the other two says.

"The Black Hand. They are assassins and they are just as greedy if not maybe more so then those so losers of the so called Thieves guild in Riften. Nah boys it just doesn't fit. I mean look at what I found just laying there smack dab in the middle of the main room." the man opens his large leather sack and pulls free from its confines, a shinny silver helmet.

"Oh would you look at that. That must be worth a small fortune. Tis silver is it not?" The older says.

"Sure beats the 700 gold pieces those they were planning on paying you for your services. Now we can start our own guild like we was planning." says the younger.

"Not so loud you daft twit. We don't need anyone else knowing about no stolen loot or me being responsible for no death of some old washed up hag in Eastmarch. Maybe that was what those Vampires were killed for. Maybe it were revenge."

The helmet seems to come to life as it turns around in the mans lap and looks up at him. "It were revenge!" Arkeis shouts in that hellish voice.

The large sack rips open as all the different pieces of his armor quickly come together, the hulking suit of armor towers over the three men who are all now paralyzed from fear. Arkeis reaches down into the mans lap as he picks up his head and sets it into place. "So you are the one that they hired to track down my precious Kerrelyn after all... I thought that the case. I needed to hear it for myself. Those Vampires would not give up your name, not for nothing. Not that it bothered me that badly. It made my time with them so much the sweeter!" The three men look around the now empty room of the Inn. "Where did everyone go!?"

Arkeis draws his sword as he points the tip of its blade down at the trio. "No more words. Stand to your feet and die like true Nords. I now send you to greet your ancestors!"

A few moments later there is a bright flash of light that fills the inside of the Frostfruit Inn. The settlers see it clearly as they watch from outside. The rain is still falling and now there is only silence from inside the Inn. Slowly a few of the braver men of the settlement investigate. They find the remains of three headless bodies and nothing else. There is no sign of the silver armored specter anywhere in sight. The room is quickly cleaned and the celebration resumes as planned. Skyrim is a harsh motherland after all and her people are used to seeing odd things such as this.

14th of Evening Star, 4E 199

The terrain of Eastmarch is particularly frosty this evening, as there was a blizzard storm going strong for a fortnight. Many of the inhabitants of the area were snowed in, the sheer amount of the falling white powder making it almost impossible to leave their dwellings. The roads were barren, Kynesgrove was feeling the effects of the blizzard. Business which was usually fairly slow was at this point and time abysmal.

Their was but one tenant at the Braidwood Inn. An elderly Alchemist named Kerrelyn. The Brenton worked in the dark dank basement of the Inn. She wore the pitiful garbs of a beggar, and was covered in soot. Her experiments were not going very well. She was almost in tears as she was concocting her newest recipe, a recipe that she was sure she had attempted before and was doomed for failure. The Brenton had reached a ripe old age and all the wisdom that she had attained in the long respected twilight of her better years was all but the whisper of a shadow of her former self now. Her mind had gone rotten with forgetfulness, age had not been kind to her.

The Barkeep upstairs had noticed, had taken pity on her. Her room and board was half the price it would have been for anyone half her age. She was grateful of course and had enough coin to pay the full price, but she was living off of her retirement funds and was planning to live out her remaining days in Whiterun with her nephew a shop owner named Belethor. The weather making it impossible for the old woman to travel, even by carriage, she practiced her craft alone in the darkness of the Inns cellar.

The only light source was a small candle that was half depleted, and the small fire from her Alchemy table's burner. A smell of chaotic smoke from failed mixtures dances in the empty air all around her. The sound of chemicals churning and bubbling echoed off the nearby stone walls. The only real light however came from the sparkle of a suit of armor that Kerrelyn had fitted onto a mannequin.

The suit was forged of pure silver and enchanted to be nearly impervious under the effects of the Moon. It was crafted in Whiterun by her late husband at a forge that was said to create mystical artifacts that had Lunar attributes. It was all that she had left of him now. The full suit of plated armor, much like the ones crafted of steel.

The suit was fully built along with sword & shield. It was mostly covered up with a sheet of cloth.

Kerrelyn had trouble even looking at the armor now that her Arkeis was gone, it reminded her of her shame in how she was never able to bare him a child. She had wanted a strong son to grow into a man and to dawn his fathers special armor but it was not to be. A subject that still caused the old woman a great deal of pain. She was delved completely into her work, as a means to forget that which plighted her.

Unknown to Kerrelyn however she was not to be alone this evening. Unknown to Kerrelyn her husband was not just a mere soldier or mercenary as he told her. Arkeis was in fact a legendary Vampire hunter that was feared, hated, and revered all around Skyrim. And unknown to anyone in Eastmarch the roads were not completely barren this evening.

A single party of four travelers made their ways from The Reach end of The Pale, and journeyed along it to Eastmarch in good time. They moved like living shadows as they raced towards Kynesgrove, towards the Braidwood Inn, towards Kerrelyn the wife of their most hated enemy.

The shadowy figures swarm all around the Braidwood Inn, seeking for a hidden passage. They find a small cellar door that leads into the basement. The area of the Inn that their informant had foretold them that their target was making residence. They move in complete silence as they make their way out of the blistering cold winds, down into the stone cellar.

It is over before the poor old woman could even fully recognize that there had been a drastic change in the rooms temperature. Just as she was about to reach for an extra jacket to throw on to keep the chill off of her bones. She feels the razors edge of a cold steel cross her throat. She closes her eyes and says a little prayer to the nine divines, as she feels the pinch as the blade slices cleanly. Her warm blood splatters outwards from the wound. Splashing against the wall and all nearby surfaces. The Vampires smell the blood and go into a frenzy, they suck her lifeless form dry and leave her cold dead corpse in the basement of the Braidwood before returning to the Pale.

None of them had noticed or cared enough to notice the mostly covered suit of armor that had belonged to their actual enemy, had they noticed they may have decided to take it with them. An extra prize, a trophy for their Masters main chamber. So it was in the cold emptiness of this horrific scene when something unexpectedly amazing happens.

The blood of Kerrelyn soaks through the cloth that covers the suit of armor and drips onto the silver surface of the suit itself. And in this act some sort of magic long forgotten awakens inside the armor as it slowly springs to life. The suit gains a consciousness, in fact it gains the consciousness of its former master Arkeis Stonewill.

Arkeis is besides himself in anguish as he peers down and sees the ghastly remains of his beloved Kerrelyn. Whats more, the experienced hunter knows exactly how she died. "Murderers!" the voice is otherworldly, it sounds like ice breaking against stone during a blizzard.

The reanimated Arkeis delicately gathers up the desecrated body of his wife, before he makes his way out of the cellar and into the main room of the Braidwood. He slowly walks her over to the bar and sets her down delicately on the surface of the bar-top. "See to it that my Kerrelyn is berried in a proper fashion." the same voice echoes throughout the room, as the bartender cowers in the corner, huddled over in a submissive pose. He is ready for death, ready for anything but that voice. The sight of the walking empty suit of armor had just about made him die of fright. His voice trembles with his response. "Sure anything you say. Just please. Don't hurt me."

It was at this moment that Arkeis realized that he was but only a shadow of his former self. His eyes gazed and witnessed in the reflection of his own shield what he could not see without its glimmer. It did not matter. All that mattered now was revenge. There would be hell to pay for the death of his beloved Kerrelyn. He quickly makes his way outside the armor is able to push open a door blocked by snow and ice that twenty strong able men would not have been able to do. He storms out into the cold and searches with experienced eyes until he finds their tracks.

The hunter is able to do what not many else have the knowledge in order to do, he finds the tracks of the vampires and follows them down the road leading towards Windhelm. He was determined to get his vengeance, he would not rest until the ones responsible were destroyed. In this state he was not sure if he could rest even if he was inclined to do so. He felt very strange, but all of his memories were present. He felt like himself only he felt like he was caught in a dream-scape. He had the sense of things, but he felt nothing. He could not feel the bitter cold of night, he could not feel anything. He could see, and hear but not feel. He could feel the emotional pain of losing his wife, of realizing that he must surely be a ghost, but physically he felt nothing. No comfort, and no pain.

His hand grasps the hilt of his sword as it is pulled free from its scabbard, the blade of his sword is engulfed in mystical flames, the sword like his armor is silver. The flames are purple in color and drain magic from their target as well as it scorches the flesh of the Undead. Very effective against Vampires, and Draugr alike.

Vampire Slaying

by Prince Aneleon Frost-Heart

This is a manifest with a collection of my findings to date on the subject of Vampires and the eradication of them. I am a scientific minded individual, as well as a sportsmen. I have hunted many of the things that go bump in the night and I find that Vampires are among the most cunning creatures that I have encountered and have hunted. I have not found that all Vampires are exactly the same, there are many different types which makes them unpredictable as well. I find this is very common in this new home of ours, there are many different versions of Vampires. A fact that I find very odd indeed, you would think that all Vampires would be similar, this is not the case.

The one factor that I do believe that is universal is blood. Vampires need to feed on blood in order to survive. The extent of what this means has variation for sure, based from case to case. But all Vampires feed on blood. Some can also eat normal food and drink, and some cannot. It is very odd indeed. It almost seems as if some Vampires know they are being Vampires, and others are confused about what that means and just make it up as they go along. Immunities to fire or sunlight for an example. I blame teen romance novels such as Twilight, it must have surely found some way to bleed into the actual world.

Blood however seems to be present in all cases of Vampires that I have studied. So in my experience that dictates that the would be Vampire hunter should use blood as a means to defeat the target. Whether that mean using blood to trap the Vampire, or finding a way to turn the very blood into a weapon, that remains to be seen. I am just saying there are many different ways to skin a cat. Start with the most simple and honest basic truths and work your way out from there.

Fire seems to be a common weakness among many Vampires. Not all. But many. And it is not just fire in most of these cases. Its what thflame represents, its Sunlight. The effects that the sun has on these Vampires in horrific. They burn away to ash in mere moments of being in direct sunlight. A light torch and a canteen of anything over 80% can make a quick difference in your chances of winning this encounter as well.

An oaken stake through the heart. In some cases it does actually kill the Vampire. In other cases it only immobilizes the Vampire. And in some other rare cases it does absolutely nothing. In the cases were it seems like nothing works against the blood drinking immortal it feels like they are less Vampires and more so Blood Gods. Tread lightly when encountering these types of fiends.

Silver. Some Vampires have an allergy to silver much like Werewolves. And some do not. I find this odd as well. In my home world all of the Vampires were exactly the same when it came to weaknesses, as if there was a structured biology for them as a species, but here in this world it seems that no two of anything are alike. It is incredibly vexing to be honest. It feels unrealistic to be honest, and it makes for dangerous hunts.

Since moving to this world however my kin have made an alliance with the Vampires of Ravens Landing, I no longer hunt these creatures. I simply wished to write a guide with instructions that could help organize someones mindset towards dealing with these immortal predators. Maybe a pare of human hands that is being plagued by a fanged monster of the shadows will find this guide useful.

If you are being hunted by a Vampire. Try to find sanctuary. There are many Vampires that cannot hunt on holy ground it is a rule even in their society. And the idea of what is considered safe grounds can be speculative. Many Vampires have these zones as well. There are places that Vampires can go in order to have sanctuary from others of their kind. The same rules apply at these locations for mortals as well. All are safe in these zones.

Elizabeth Parker was not in a festive mood. After one glance at the large room where the party was taking place, her nerves tensed. So, many people, laughing and chirping, happy and comfortable with each other. She had witnessed similar events on numerous occasions. In her professional and her academic lifestyle and even as a child she had never fit in.

She had grown up without the benefit of friends or classmates, so she was ill prepared for the social aspects of college. And starting at the age of thirteen didn't help make it any easier. She found people fascinating, but only from across the room. She watched people with a scientific detached interest, as if watching fish in an aquarium. She only watched, she never dared diving in herself, that would chance drowning. Or perhaps the cute little whimsical fish would actually turn out to be sharks and devour her whole.

Still she had chosen this event due to the fact that if was only a birthday party for three of her coworkers children. She felt obligated to show up, seeing as how they obviously felt obligated to invite her in the first place. She only knew them from watching them from her cubical, she was just as anti social at work then anywhere else. She knew that they were troubled by her, all kinds of rumors were whispered from shadows.

Then something Elizabeth was never expecting to happen, happened. A tall pale male with beautiful ice blue eyes and long feathery silver white hair sat down in the chair beside hers, and as he sat down he sighed loudly obnoxiously. She giggled. Out loud. She was terrified. She was completely sure that this man or Elf or whatever, had heard her. And he did of course, but he did not let on as so.

He simply and nonchalantly took notice of her. Elizabeth Parker was indeed known for her awkward reclusive demeanor, but she was also known for something else, something that Andeleon noticed the very instant he laid his eyes on her. She was amazingly beautiful, with a different upbringing she could have easily become a model or film actress. Please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me, please don't talk to me... She keeps repeating to herself in her mind.

Andeleon smirks due to his ability to read thoughts, but he does not let on that he is probing her mind. Not that it took much effort, she is advertising, her anxiety would make it hard for any telepathic to not be able to. Andeleon knows that he cannot leave this room without talking to this enchanting creature, he also knows that he must be very delicate.

"Have you ever seen anyone like me before?"

She shakes her head silently saying no. Her eyes are wide open, seeing as how what she had dreaded had just happened.

"Do I frighten you?"

She wanted to run for the door, she wanted to nod her head to say yes, but she also did not want to hurt his feelings, and she secretly did not want him to stop talking to her now. His voice sent chills down her spin, she started to feel sensations that she never had before this moment. So she shakes her head again, silently saying no.

Andeleon starts to feel like he is going to give the poor girl a heart attack, so she turns his head away, and leans forward in order to push off of the chair with his hands and arms. He plans on getting up and walking away, but something unexpected happens. He feels the delicate soft hand of Elizabeth clasp around his own. Then he hears her own sweet soft voice.

"No... Please don't go. I am not very good with talking to people, but I am very lonely and for some reason that I can't explain I feel more at ease around you then anyone else.... Well... Ever... So please Sir keep talking to me."

Andeleon eases back into his seat, and now he is feeling a bit scared. This is a new feeling to the Prince, its not like he was not courted any women, he is royalty for gods sake. But those women were always so fake, not like this one, he must know her name. He doesn't know exactly why but he knows that he must.

"What is your name?" he says before he can even think of a more tactful way of addressing the situation. His face becomes flush he is embarrassed with his forwardness. "Please excuse me miss... I am Andeleon Frost-Heart... Would you please do me the honor of telling me your name?" he even fidgets in his seat a little. What the hell is happening to me? he thinks to himself. Its only a girl, you have had hundreds of conquests why does this one make me feel so... So... Odd.

He simply does not know how to explain the feeling that he is having because he has never felt this way before. Elizabeth blushes as well when she notices that Aneloen is, she finds it a little bit cute as well. She is used to being the socially awkward one, its refreshing to be on the other side of it for once.

"Elisabeth... My name is Elisabeth Parker."

"Elisabeth." he simply says, as he stares deeply into her eyes. His smirk turns into a smile. And she cannot help but smile as well.

Prince Andeleon Frost-Heart was not in a festive mood. As he entered the parlor of the Firstborn Inn, his stomach churned. Too many humans. The jarring noise of all their voices clashed against his Elvin ears, and he dreaded the thought of participating in meaningless chatter. For centuries, the Prince of the Snow Elves had avoided such situations by living the secluded lifestyle of a Hunter, but those days were gone. Left in the past that he secretly mourned for, the Kingdom he was forced to leave behind in order to focus on creating his own dynasty here in another realm, a realm away from his tyrannical father. The thought of his King actually causes him to vomit a little and forcefully swallow it back down. That left him with one option for surviving the night.

Whiskey.

Hopefully the mixture of golden liquid would deaden his immortal senses before confronted with the same questions he had been hearing for the past three months. How do you like it here? Do you miss your home? Will you be staying? How are relations going between the Elves and the Vampires?

Pointless drivel.

He had a better question: how fast could he get sh*tfaced-drunk? He headed for the refreshments tables. They all mean well of course. He reminded himself. It was the only way they knew how to show their concern. It was better than having no one who cared. But damnation, he had lost his home, not his past, not his memory. A man was more than his status. More than his station? His chest clenched with the familiar pain of grief. Without his home, his soul felt half empty. And the half that remained was a sad melody of regret.

The first table was covered with what mortals call snack food. He kept walking. The next table was surrounded by mortals and other Immortals both Vampiric and Elvin like himself. It was mostly women and children however, as they stood gawking at the giant five-tier cake. Where the hell was the Whiskey?

The more that Andeleon looked around the more evident it became that their would be no Whiskey it was a gathering for the mortals children, a celebration of mortals becoming older and nearing their death. A celebration of living one year annually, as if living a full life of eighty plus years had meant something special. Still the Prince being of royal upbringing reaches down deep and finds the willpower to fake a smile, and converse with the gatherers slightly. "She is beautiful, and so is her dress." "My, my look at this dapper young lad. You can tell where he gets his good looks from." And a few other speeches that he had committed to heart.

The event was absolutely exhausting.