Southwest of Helgen, winter.
There’s a sea of snow out in the hinterlands now. Back in late summer, Misha the Road Witch warned us about it’s coming. I threw her a gold piece in hope she could forestall it. Maybe she just delayed it’s onslaught.
Out practicing lightning skills today. Insights galore. I picked a camp of Stormcloaks to lacerate with my magic. Many died quickly. But their leader, I’m not sure of his name, was blessed with a ring that seemed to negate my spell.
He hurled himself at me with murderous rampage. I’d taken away his men, and now he would–at night no less–try to take a vampyre’s right to exist from her.
I wasn’t having it.
Doubling down on my lightning, he finally fell to the snowy earth, writhing as I tortured. Death was denied him, but did he pray, did he pray for death under his breath? Oh, aye.
“Why,” he croaked eventually.
“Growing in any power demands sacrifice,” I said coldly. Skyrim’s tough-minded ways was catching up tome . Great. Sounded just like Ilyana now. “But I’ll leave you alive. You’ll be cooked for a few days. You have patches of hair left, but you can shave it. Look like a real leader then.”
“If you leave me here to freeze, I’ll live. I’ll craw over to our camp site, sleep by the fire, and live. That means I’m obliged to hunt you down. You know that?”
“I’m counting on it, handsome.” I taunted. “A girl’s gotta stay on her toes to stay fit.” I winked to seal the deal. Oh, he hated me something terrible. But he will also purge the lands of low-level scamp vampyre, leaving me eventually as one of the few.
“May the gods damn you!”
“Poor man. They already have, that’s why I look like this.”
I pulled down my cloak’s hood, giving him a glance at the horror. Near purplish is my face. I haven’t feed for days. Red, red eyes. The better to study you with. “Like?”
He said nothing but he did begin to weep.
Men can be such softies sometimes.