Mazoga's Story

lood splattered on the wall, and Naic laughed. "You are pathetic, mere mortal!" Opening his mouth wide, revealing his large fangs, he then added tauntingly, "Die without dignity."

He withdrew his dagger from the man's lungs, a harsh hint of pleasure shining in his blood-red eyes as he let the bandit's corpse fall against the wall and collapse, the criminal's eyes open in fear, staring blankly towards his assassin.

"Damn bandits." Naic spat on the murderer's corpse and cackled. "No mere mortal can slay a vampire."

 

Mazoga the Orc sat on her bed in the small lodge and pondered like she always did when she was alone. It was something that kept her sane, even if what she thought about was enough to drive a man to insanity.

Glancing casually at her   resting on her bed beside her in one of the rare times she took it off, she continued to ponder about pondering, and think about what she was pondering about. But above all in that confusing mess of her mind, she was remembering her past.

She had grown up in a poor orphanage with only one friend, a Khajiit, much to the caretaker's amusement and worry, as racism existed heavily in that place. Even as an Orc, one of the humanoid races, Mazoga felt the bitter sting of prejudice.

When her only friend had been slain for reporting illegal activities, Mazoga took up an oath. She vowed that she would avenge her friend's death and become a knight. She tracked down the murderer, whom she heard had fled to Cyrodiil. More hunting, and she eventually learned he was at Fisherman's Rock.

She made her way there and challenged the bandits to combat as punishment for their crimes. Unfortunately, she had both overestimated herself and underestimated them, and it wasn't long before she was lying on the ground, bleeding freely from many wounds, her death imminent.

That was when, through the haze of blood loss, she saw him appear. One of the bandits stood over her, ready to strike the final blow, when blood suddenly gushed out of one shoulder and his severed arm fell to the ground, hand still clutching the sword. Screaming, the bandit spun around to meet his assailant, but he was punched in the stomach and sent flying across the camp into a tree, which shook form the impact.

Unable to pull herself up, Mazoga struggled to focus on the figure that was already upon the other bandits, slaying them freely and effortlessly. He didn't even have his sword out - instead, he simply touched the bandits whilst muttering a few words, and they would collapse to the ground, some of them burning, others blue with frost, and some simply dropping dead without any visible damage. All of this was simple magic, as Mazoga would later learn, though it was very powerful magic, even if the figure claimed it was simple.

It was the same magic that had slain the bandits that saved her life; the figure knelt beside her and began to mutter more words that brought her consciousness and strength back with every unheard syllable. It was then that she could focus on the sword sheathed at the figure's side, the black   that shrouded and protected his body, matching his long hair and directly contrasting with his pale white face, which had no helmet protecting it. She gazed into the man's eyes, the blood-hungry, red eyes, and found herself feeling a new fear. This seemed to amuse the man, who simply smiled, his mouth open wide, revealing his fangs, and said simply "I am Naic."

"Musing again, Orc-Girl?" a mocking voice rang out from beside Mazoga.

Mazoga startled and turned to find herself staring at her   and close friend, who was still dressed and looked exactly like he had when they first met. "Come on, Naic, you know me. I do nothing else," she jested, too comfortable in the vampire's presence to be afraid.

A hollow laugh from the dead man was her only reply.

"Anyway, what are you doing back here? I thought you'd be gone for months, but it's only been a few days."

"You underestimate me, Orc-Girl." Naic's face almost seemed hurt. "Did you really think it would take me such a length of time to go to the Imperial City, kill a renegade, weak vampire that had made its presence too well known, and get back here, stopping on the way to deal with a small camp of bandits that had holed themselves up in an Ayleid ruin? Do you really presume me to be that incompetent?"

"But you can only travel at night, unless you feed, and it's at least a week's journey by horse," Mazoga defended herself, well aware of how pointless it would be. "Well, anyway, I’m glad your back.”

"Get the door." Naic waved at the door.

Running her fingers through her loose, short hair, Mazoga frowned. “What are you...” she began, only to be interrupted by the sound of a hand hitting wood three times.

The amused look on Naic's dead face told Mazoga to be on her guard, so, picking up her sword, she paced slowly to the door and edged it open slightly. That was enough for the man on the other side, and it flew open with a bang. Mazoga barely had time to raise her steel longsword in   before the intruder attacked.

Amidst her desperate attempts to block the frantic swings of the attacker's claymore, Mazoga managed to get fractured glimpses of the threat. He was clearly Dunmer - his ash-grey skin revealed that instantly, as well as his Morrowind origins; only those from the homeland of the Dark Elves had such tone skin, while the western elves were generally much bluer in tone.

Ducking beneath a head-high swing, Mazoga again analyzed her foe. He was dressed in metallic  , most likely steel, though it could have easily been silver. Blocking another swing, Mazoga stared into the Dunmer's cold eyes. She forced the claymore off her sword and confirmed her suspicions - his   and claymore were both made from silver, the traditional material used by those that sought to slay the damned.

"What do you want?" she asked him, whilst at the same time trying to force him out of the open door.

"The vampires," the Dunmer glanced at Naic, who was simply smiling and enjoying the show, "and those that consort with vampires must all die!" His eyes returned to the Orc with even more anger than before. “That means you," he growled.

Naic burst out laughing. "Come on, Orc-Lady, surely you can do better than that with a mere vampire hunter?" He stepped toward the two, who were now deadlocked, pushing against each other's blades in an attempt to win.

"So is this all the show is? Two mortals trading foolish blows? Can no-one win?" Naic continued to shout in excitement and step forward at the same time, drawing closer and closer to the two combatants. "Is this the strength of a mortal who fights for gods? Of a mortal who fights to protect the weak? Mazoga and the vampire hunter, are you both so weak!?!"

Naic was now right next to the fighting pair, towering forebodingly over them by several inches. Muttering a few words, he touched the vampire hunter on the forehead. The tension and anger faded as Naic removed his hand. The vampire hunter's own hands grew limp, and the claymore fell to the floor with a metallic ring, soon followed by his body.

"Now you are paralyzed," Naic informed him. "You will feel everything I do to you, but you will be unable to react." Again, Naic smiled widely. "The only question is, what will I do to you?" The vampire didn't even need to think about that; he already knew what he would do. "I haven't fed in awhile, so I will give you the   of being my meal. Though before I do so, remember for your next life: That which seeks to kill a monster, is always only a man."

As her vampiric friend bent over the frozen hunter, Mazoga the Orc looked away in disgust. She had never liked watching a person be fed on by a vampire, and the sight of Naic feeding on the Dunmer made her stomach wrench, so instead of watching, she stared at a wall, and once again pondered, except this time she pondered about the present, and a very alarming concern, "How did that vampire hunter know that Naic was here, and that he was a vampire?"