Collins sat in his armchair, drinking a glass of wine as he replayed the past few days’ events in his mind.
He had walked towards Castle Volkihar where a doorman stood watch and let him in without any question, upon entering Mark Collins realised he was in a vampire’s lair- such things were thought to be legend but nothing surprised him anymore. An elf vampire named Vingalmo stood at the door and spoke to him, “How dare you trespass here! What is your intent?”
“I have no intent! I just appeared here and walked inside!” Collins cried
Vingalmo sighed “Very well, please stay still so I can drink your blood”
“What?!” Collins cried as he pulled his sniper rifle off his back and aimed it at the vampire
Vingalmo paused and inspected the weapon, then clapped slowly. “I am impressed, your anger is strong and your weapon is impressive – what is it? Some kind of Crossbow?”
“Uh, yeah, like a long distance crossbow” Collins was stunned by the sudden appreciation
“You possess much rage, I would think you a good candidate, follow me – I will take you to Harkon”
“Who?”
“Lord Harkon Volkihar – leader of the Volkihar clan”
“Why am I meeting him?”
“You are to become like us”
Collins eyes glazed over with the prospect of such power – he would be immortal…
***************
The cold, bitter wind snapped at Lucy’s face as she and the others walked along the snowy path. Thanks to the magic’s of San-Kai and Danica Pure-Spring she had recovered at an insanely fast pace and within two days she was ready to make the journey to Windhelm. They planned to travel there on foot, rest for the night and then go on to Winterhold to finally uncover what had happened when a Cyborg and a Farmer suddenly found themselves on Nirn.
Nigel could be heard loudly cursing as the wind nearly blew him over, they had been caught in the middle of a mild snowstorm – it was nothing to Bjorn and San-Kai for they were used to it. But for a pair from where the only winter was a nuclear one it felt horrific and so the Cyborg repeatedly cursed, getting more and more inventive as time went on.
“Stop complaining Nigel! This is but a mild chill!” Bjorn laughed
“A mild chill? You’re kidding me!” Nigel shouted over the deafening wind
“You alright Lucy?” San-Kai was wary of her health, the healer in him shining through
“Oh, I’m fine San - not at all cold” Lucy replied with intense sarcasm
The mage laughed, knowing if she was capable of sarcasm she was fine.
Nigel called out to Bjorn, who was taking point and demonstrating his immense knowledge of Skyrim’s landscape – leading them through the snowstorm perfectly. “How much further?”
“We’re about halfway!” Bjorn replied, immediately followed by a stream of curses from Nigel
*************
The city of Kings towered before them, Windhelm – the oldest city in Skyrim where Ysgramor himself once ruled. Nigel, Lucy, Bjorn and San-Kai sat by the stables, San-Kai got up and began to walk “My kind are not allowed in Ulfric Stormcloak’s city – I will visit my egg-brothers at the docks and stay with them – I will see you tomorrow my friends”
They waved goodbye to San-Kai and then Nigel questioned this, “Why aren’t Argonians allowed in Windhelm?"
Bjorn sighed and replied, “Ulfric Stormcloak is Jarl of Windhelm and cares about only one thing – himself. He is a racist and cares not about it – the majority go along with him in his beliefs”
“But you don’t?” Lucy enquired
“No, I did at one point in my life but after I was exiled from Whiterun I travelled with San for many months and eventually I came to realise that every race is as good as another”
“Good on you” Nigel complimented
So they got up and walked towards the great city, the guard let them in with no quarrel – seemingly trusting anyone in the company of a Nord like Bjorn. Lucy looked around in wonder as she took in the sheer majesty of the place. A great building imposed upon them immediately, the inn, while others littered the area around it – with the Palace of Kings being its greatest building. The population was almost entirely Nordic, barring the odd Dark elf here and there but the Dunmer did not seem happy by a long shot.
Suddenly a man, Nord by the looks of it, came running up to them – he looked insane and likely hadn’t slept in days. His grey hair and beard were insanely long and he was wearing Beggar rags. He fell on the ground beneath them and met their gaze as they looked on him in a mix of fear and confusion. Suddenly, his eyes turned white and he spoke to them in a voice that was not human in any way.
First he looked at Nigel,”Hi los ni nol Vus, ni jul. Hi fen ni ofaal nahkriin hi tolaan, nuz hi fen ni tolaan nii. Hi lost aan fin wah dreh!”
Then he looked at Lucy, “Hokfah, hi lost sizaan ful pogaas ahrk fen koraav ful pogaas - hi lost fin su'um do Bormahu. Hi lost aan fin wah dreh!”
Then he shifted his gaze to Bjorn, “Aar do fin nir, hi fen ni filok rok. Nuz hi fen kos med naal pah. Hi lost aan fin wah dreh!”
Then he got up and walked over to the gates, walked outside and pointed at San-Kai from a distance, “Siigonis, hi fen daal wah rok gein tiid nuz hin vahzah drog fen lost hi. Hin fen siiv hin zeymah - Hi lost aan fin wah dreh!”
And with that the Beggar raised his eyes to the sky and screamed louder than anything any of them had ever heard and then he collapsed. San-Kai ran over, healing magic’s in hand, and checked his pulse. He looked back at a worried Nigel and Lucy and shook his head, the man was dead and they would never know what he said.
‘Hi lost aan fin wah dreh...’
Dovahzul Translations
I will not translate the Dovahzul in this chapter as it provides spoilers for the rest of the story, I would warn against translating them - they will be revealed later in the story.
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