Skarvald
Kendov – Warrior
Prologue:
It was a kind autumn night in the city of Kvatch. Bright yellow and orange leaves layered the ground from the dozens of trees that were located throughout the city. It had been almost two centuries ago that Kvatch was invaded and destroyed by Daedra during the Oblivion Crisis, and now after being rebuilt the city was plenty filled with people in it’s markets similar to the Imperial City.
The gates stood shut with guards at each side. Layered onto a white linen tabard covering their chain mail armor was the crest of Kvatch; a large black fox head with piercing white eyes and no background. Kvatch’s armor was of fine steel grade, so should danger oppose their home, the Kcatch city guard would be prepared. These two guards in particular were on their night shift, and were more alert then ever. Nightfall usually heralded dark tidings.
It was ten till night in the evening when the guards noticed a figure approaching the city gates. When he finally arrived before them they were able to identify him more accurately, thanks to the lighting of their torches.
His face was middle-aged, yet there was something about him that felt off...almost like he was older than he looked. His eyes were of a deep chocolate brown; though they too gave mysterious uncertainty. His medium-length hair that covered his head was the color of charcoal, and his facial hair consisted of a bushy mustache. His choice in clothing was rather elegant; a regal burgundy coat that covered a scarlet red shirt and black vest. The boots he wore were rather not as refined, but nonetheless fit with his style; plain black-leathered boots that were three inches below knee length.
One of the guards stepped in-front of the man, blocking his way and questioned him. “Evening, traveler. Before letting you in, I must ask your reason for entering Kvatch. Especially at this hour and now under Thalmor control, we don’t usually let strangers inside without permission.”
The man cleared his throat and introduced himself rather politely in a deep accented voice. “Ah, yes. Good evening, good sirs. I am Garren Lucanus, seeing entry on behalf of the Lucanus Family for a homecoming reception. As of now, I am rather late so if you would be so kind as to let me pass.” As the man spoke, his were locked with the guard’s and strangely, without hesitation, the guard stepped aside.
“Welcome to Kvatch then, Mr. Lucanus. Have a splendid stay,” the guard said as he opened the door, letting the man named Garren through.
Garren took sight of Kvatch’s main plaza. Houses to the left and right of him, with the chapel of the Divine Akatosh in-front. They were all of the traditional Gothic style, that surprisingly fit in well with the city’s architecture. He of course wasn’t here for religious practice, but for family. He headed in the direction of the Lucanus family estate and was greeted a tall wooden door with a iron knocker ornately shaped to a fox head, like Kvatch’s crest. He then used the knocker and awaited reply.
A few moments passed and the door opened. Standing there before him was the wife of the Lucanus family, Rosaline. “Ah, good evening Garren,” Rosaline said kindly as she embraced her brother-in-law. “So glad you could make it.”
“Indeed,” Garren commented as he took her hand politely and kissed it. “I am delighted to be here, in this exquisite town. Is Markus here?” He stood still, awaiting to be invited inside. One must be invited first inside a home before setting foot in, it was only common courtesy.
Rosaline nodded excitingly, eager to start things. “Yes, yes. Let me get him over here. In the mean time, do come inside and wait by in the den to my right. You can talk to your nephew Ivan.” She smiled before turning away and disappearing from his sight in search of her husband.
Garren entered then, now knowing he had been invited inside. He made his way into the den, that included a wood-burning fireplace. Sitting in one of the two elaborately made armchairs was his nephew, Ivan. He seated himself next to the young boy and examined his looks.
Young and spoiled, Ivan was dressed quite handsomely for his age. Short black hair came down to his earlobes and covered them. His eyebrows were not thick yet not thin, and the color of his eyes were of a more darker brown then Garren’s. His attire consisted of a formal black collared shirt and pants with black shoes. For his age, Ivan looked like quite the gentleman. Garren decided to introduce himself.
“Hello there,” Garren spoke softly to his nephew. “You are Ivan, correct? I am your uncle, Garren Lucanus.” He then extended his hand in offering a hand-shake.
Ivan looked up, startled by the sudden noise. Clearing his throat he too extended his hand and clasped it firmly. Garren’s hand was surprisingly cold despite being next to a fire but this was dismissed from his mind before it took any real value for a idea. He then replied, “Indeed I am, sir. Ivan’s my name alright.”
Garren laughed deeply, his accent noticeable. He looked at Ivan with kind eyes. “Dear child, there is no need for solemnity this night. I am your Uncle after-all. Please, call me Uncle Garren.”
Smiling with confidence, Ivan nodded with reply. “As you wish, Uncle Garren.” Just then they both could hear Rosaline call for dinner and so they both arose from their seats.
Entering the room was a man who shown with experience in his years. Bright steel-blue eyes kept his middle-aged face looking young and proud. His hair was of a dark brown, alike to Garren’s, that hanged to his shoulders tied in a rogue’s knot. The man wore also a handle-bar mustache that covered his upper lip. His attire was of a dark tan or light brown collared shirt with cuffed sleeves. On these sleeves were ornate silver cufflinks in the shape of the symbol that matched Akay, Divine of the Cycle of Birth and Death. The man, who was identified as Markus Lucanus extended a strong hand in greeting spoke in a deep baritone of a voice.
“Welcome, brother,” Markus said with great care as he and Garren embraced for a hug. “I hope your journey here was safe.”
Garren smiled with gratitude and chuckled whole-heartedly. “I had no trouble getting here, Markus. I’m glad to be inside such a exquisite home.”
Markus smiled with compassion as he looked at Ivan. “I see you and Ivan have gotten to know each-other. There will be more time for that later. Come, dinner is served.” He then lead Garren and Ivan to a clothed cherrywood dining table, covered in ornate plates and silverware. Seeing the silverware, Garren reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of leather gloves in which he put on.
“I do not wish to dirty this fine silver, dear brother,” he said as he covered his hands.
Markus nodded in understanding, “Of course.”
The family then seated themselves and Markus spoke. “Let us say grace. Rosaline, would you begin while I close us in prayer?”
Rosaline nodded as everyone held hands around the table. She then began in a soft, honey-smooth voice, “Nine Divines, we thank you tonight for this splendid meal you have provided for us. Thank you Zenithar, for the work you have provided for me and my husband and thank you for the wealth you have blessed us with. Dear Julianos, we thank you for your wisdom that lead us to good choices in our lives, and we finally thank you Lady Mara for your love and compassion.” She squeezed Markus’ hand, letting him know it was his turn.
In contemplation, Markus bowed his head reverently and quietly whispered, “And now we thank you, Great Talos, or as we call you, Tiber Septim for our safety in the midst of the Great War that happened only seventeen years ago. Thank you for the hedge of protection you gave us when the Thalmor sacked the Imperial City. I pray that you will still hear those that protest against the Elve’s damned White-Gold Concordat and that you will bless those who still bow to your glorious name. We pray these things in all the Divine’s names. Amen.”
He opened his eyes slowly to see a warm meal before them. Stuffed pig with roasted garlic potatoes, asparagus, carrots, and many other vegetables. Their drinks consisted of Surille Brother’s wine, vintage 399; a legendary quality reserved for this special occasion. “Let us eat,” he said then.
As everyone began to eat their meal, Markus couldn’t help but notice that as Garren was chewing on the garlic potatoes he was looking as if he would gag them up any moment. And sure enough Garren started coughing rather hoarsely. But was caught his eye was his brother’s teeth. Long pointed fangs replaced his canine teeth! “Surely I must be seeing things,” he reasoned to himself and continued eating as if he saw nothing.
“How does everything taste, my brother?” Markus asked kindly.
“Remarkable,” Garren replied as he stuffed a piece of asparagus and pig. “Though I must admit I have an allergic problem with the amount of garlic. Nonetheless, I am quite enjoying this meal.” He smiled then, showing his teeth; normal canines shown now. Markus assumed that what he saw was now surely a trick of the eye.
Rosaline was devouring her roasted pig, for it was her favorite food. In her hasty greed, her hand slipped while cutting and was cut. Blood seeped from the small wound as she whimpered in mild pain. “Oh shoot,” she remarked. “I’m sorry I’ll have to clean this up.” As she said this Garren’s eyes were locked on the sight of Rosaline’s wound. His now red glowing eyes stared with a cold hunger, and when Markus saw this, he grew suspicious. This was no mere illusion.
“Garren,” he called. His brother blinked, almost like he was out from a trance. The red in his eyes quickly faded back to dark brown. “I’m going to refresh myself in my room. If you will excuse me.”
“By all means,” Garren replied. “Take your time, dear brother.”
Markus then paced rather swiftly to his quarters, and went straight to his closet. He opened it wide and took out a brown suitcase. Opening it revealed the garb for a Vampire Hunter. Silver-blessed stakes, hidden knives for throwing, holy tomes, etc. In particular, Markus grabbed one of the stakes and placed it between his belt and took the knives that were sheathed and wrapped it around his body. He then covered himself with a coat and made his way back to the dining room... but he was too late.
Garren stood behind Rosaline as she was washing her wound. The look on Garren’s face told Markus that danger was in his home, a Vampire. “Rosaline, behind you!” Markus shouted as he withdrew his silver stake.
Rosaline turned as Garren sank his teeth into her neck, drinking deeply her blood dry. His lips were covered in dripping red blood. He smacked them, savoring the sweet taste. His eyes glowed dark with red iris centering them, and his teeth now fully shown his long fangs. Looking at Garren he hissed loudly with a hint of laughter. “How noble of you to invite a Vampire into your home, Markus, especially one is renown as one of the Dark Brotherhood’s greatest assassin’s of the fourth era. I am he, Garren Drakul Lucanus!”
Markus could only grit his teeth in anger as his eyes watered. He could only roar in anger, “You son of a bitch! What have you done?”
“I have taken care of Rosaline,” Garren remarked with sarcasm. He noticed the stake in Markus’ hand and commented, “And you come prepared. Very good, I am impressed Markus.”
Filled with rage, Markus charged at the Vampire and held high his stake in his right hand. In his left, lay a small shock spell. With enough force, and Garren being caught off guard, they tumbled to the ground as Markus ran into his brother. He then slammed the stake into Garren’s left hand, pinning him down. The Vampire screamed in pain as the silver boiled his blood. Markus looked at him dead in the eye. Garren tried fighting back, and was successful in slashing Markus’ face with bloodied marks. The Vampire Hunter returned the favor by placing his left hand – still holding the shock spell – on the left side of Garren’s face. In pure agony, Garren screamed as his left eye was blinded and horrible marks and deformities were carved into his face. In a fury, he kicked Markus off of him with force and hastily removed the stake from his hand. His left hand now bore a hole within and he clenched it in pain.
“Damn you Markus!” he roared. He searched around the room for something to threaten with and eyed Ivan, who stood instilled with fear. Without hesitation, Garren grasped the boy by the arm and hollered, “Move one step and the boy dies.” He sneered then, knowing he had triumphed.
It was then that Markus looked up the Heavens and knelt down reverently.
“Yes, yes, bow before your superior!” Garren gloated in ecstasy. He observed Markus and then rose suspicion.
Markus was in deep thought, praying to the Nine Divines for help. “Akatosh, God of Time. By all that is Holy, hear me out,” he prayed. “Here lies a being defiling Arkay’s cycle, who's kind are a blight upon this world, birthed by Daedra. I need your blessing for morning to arrive, for the Sun shall burn this monster to Oblivion.”
He opened his eyes and was amazed at what he saw. Just over the horizon, a blinding light was rising in the sky. Garren was laughing in victory when he felt himself smoking. He released the boy and turned towards the light.
“Agh! You would dare let your brother die?” he winced greatly and fell to a knee. His skin was burning by the sun. Markus was over-joyed to see this. “Thank Akatosh! He heard me!”
He walked up to Garren and knelt so they were of equal height. “It is only because we are brothers by blood, that I will give you this one chance of mercy Leave,” he said in a cold voice that shook Garren, “and never return. Think about what you have done, and forgive yourself. If you do not, then that is your choice. When next we meet, Garren... Justice shall be done.”
The Vampire stared down Markus and knew he only had one choice. “Very well. I do hope we meet again soon, brother. I will enjoy breaking you,” he said as he began to dissipate in a dark, blood-mist. The last thing Markus heard was a dark laugh that would be the nightmare in his dreams for years to come.
All Markus could think about now was what had just transpired here. He looked at Ivan, still frozen in shock. Markus took hold of his son and wrapped him in his coat. He held him close and embraced him lovingly. “Don’t worry my son,” he whispered in Ivan’s ear. “That monster will never harm you again. This I vow.”
Loredas, 7th day of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 188 – Kvatch, Cyrodiil
It was a kind autumn night in the city of Kvatch. Bright yellow and orange leaves layered the ground from the dozens of trees that were located throughout the city. It had been almost two centuries ago that Kvatch was invaded and destroyed by Daedra during the Oblivion Crisis, and now after being rebuilt the city was plenty filled with people in it’s markets similar to the Imperial City.
The gates stood shut with guards at each side. Layered onto a white linen tabard covering their chain mail armor was the crest of Kvatch; a large black fox head with piercing white eyes and no background. Kvatch’s armor was of fine steel grade, so should danger oppose their home, the Kcatch city guard would be prepared. These two guards in particular were on their night shift, and were more alert then ever. Nightfall usually heralded dark tidings.
It was ten till night in the evening when the guards noticed a figure approaching the city gates. When he finally arrived before them they were able to identify him more accurately, thanks to the lighting of their torches.
His face was middle-aged, yet there was something about him that felt off...almost like he was older than he looked. His eyes were of a deep chocolate brown; though they too gave mysterious uncertainty. His medium-length hair that covered his head was the color of charcoal, and his facial hair consisted of a bushy mustache. His choice in clothing was rather elegant; a regal burgundy coat that covered a scarlet red shirt and black vest. The boots he wore were rather not as refined, but nonetheless fit with his style; plain black-leathered boots that were three inches below knee length.
One of the guards stepped in-front of the man, blocking his way and questioned him. “Evening, traveler. Before letting you in, I must ask your reason for entering Kvatch. Especially at this hour and now under Thalmor control, we don’t usually let strangers inside without permission.”
The man cleared his throat and introduced himself rather politely in a deep accented voice. “Ah, yes. Good evening, good sirs. I am Garren Lucanus, seeing entry on behalf of the Lucanus Family for a homecoming reception. As of now, I am rather late so if you would be so kind as to let me pass.” As the man spoke, his were locked with the guard’s and strangely, without hesitation, the guard stepped aside.
“Welcome to Kvatch then, Mr. Lucanus. Have a splendid stay,” the guard said as he opened the door, letting the man named Garren through.
Garren took sight of Kvatch’s main plaza. Houses to the left and right of him, with the chapel of the Divine Akatosh in-front. They were all of the traditional Gothic style, that surprisingly fit in well with the city’s architecture. He of course wasn’t here for religious practice, but for family. He headed in the direction of the Lucanus family estate and was greeted a tall wooden door with a iron knocker ornately shaped to a fox head, like Kvatch’s crest. He then used the knocker and awaited reply.
A few moments passed and the door opened. Standing there before him was the wife of the Lucanus family, Rosaline. “Ah, good evening Garren,” Rosaline said kindly as she embraced her brother-in-law. “So glad you could make it.”
“Indeed,” Garren commented as he took her hand politely and kissed it. “I am delighted to be here, in this exquisite town. Is Markus here?” He stood still, awaiting to be invited inside. One must be invited first inside a home before setting foot in, it was only common courtesy.
Rosaline nodded excitingly, eager to start things. “Yes, yes. Let me get him over here. In the mean time, do come inside and wait by in the den to my right. You can talk to your nephew Ivan.” She smiled before turning away and disappearing from his sight in search of her husband.
Garren entered then, now knowing he had been invited inside. He made his way into the den, that included a wood-burning fireplace. Sitting in one of the two elaborately made armchairs was his nephew, Ivan. He seated himself next to the young boy and examined his looks.
Young and spoiled, Ivan was dressed quite handsomely for his age. Short black hair came down to his earlobes and covered them. His eyebrows were not thick yet not thin, and the color of his eyes were of a more darker brown then Garren’s. His attire consisted of a formal black collared shirt and pants with black shoes. For his age, Ivan looked like quite the gentleman. Garren decided to introduce himself.
“Hello there,” Garren spoke softly to his nephew. “You are Ivan, correct? I am your uncle, Garren Lucanus.” He then extended his hand in offering a hand-shake.
Ivan looked up, startled by the sudden noise. Clearing his throat he too extended his hand and clasped it firmly. Garren’s hand was surprisingly cold despite being next to a fire but this was dismissed from his mind before it took any real value for a idea. He then replied, “Indeed I am, sir. Ivan’s my name alright.”
Garren laughed deeply, his accent noticeable. He looked at Ivan with kind eyes. “Dear child, there is no need for solemnity this night. I am your Uncle after-all. Please, call me Uncle Garren.”
Smiling with confidence, Ivan nodded with reply. “As you wish, Uncle Garren.” Just then they both could hear Rosaline call for dinner and so they both arose from their seats.
Entering the room was a man who shown with experience in his years. Bright steel-blue eyes kept his middle-aged face looking young and proud. His hair was of a dark brown, alike to Garren’s, that hanged to his shoulders tied in a rogue’s knot. The man wore also a handle-bar mustache that covered his upper lip. His attire was of a dark tan or light brown collared shirt with cuffed sleeves. On these sleeves were ornate silver cufflinks in the shape of the symbol that matched Akay, Divine of the Cycle of Birth and Death. The man, who was identified as Markus Lucanus extended a strong hand in greeting spoke in a deep baritone of a voice.
“Welcome, brother,” Markus said with great care as he and Garren embraced for a hug. “I hope your journey here was safe.”
Garren smiled with gratitude and chuckled whole-heartedly. “I had no trouble getting here, Markus. I’m glad to be inside such a exquisite home.”
Markus smiled with compassion as he looked at Ivan. “I see you and Ivan have gotten to know each-other. There will be more time for that later. Come, dinner is served.” He then lead Garren and Ivan to a clothed cherrywood dining table, covered in ornate plates and silverware. Seeing the silverware, Garren reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of leather gloves in which he put on.
“I do not wish to dirty this fine silver, dear brother,” he said as he covered his hands.
Markus nodded in understanding, “Of course.”
The family then seated themselves and Markus spoke. “Let us say grace. Rosaline, would you begin while I close us in prayer?”
Rosaline nodded as everyone held hands around the table. She then began in a soft, honey-smooth voice, “Nine Divines, we thank you tonight for this splendid meal you have provided for us. Thank you Zenithar, for the work you have provided for me and my husband and thank you for the wealth you have blessed us with. Dear Julianos, we thank you for your wisdom that lead us to good choices in our lives, and we finally thank you Lady Mara for your love and compassion.” She squeezed Markus’ hand, letting him know it was his turn.
In contemplation, Markus bowed his head reverently and quietly whispered, “And now we thank you, Great Talos, or as we call you, Tiber Septim for our safety in the midst of the Great War that happened only seventeen years ago. Thank you for the hedge of protection you gave us when the Thalmor sacked the Imperial City. I pray that you will still hear those that protest against the Elve’s damned White-Gold Concordat and that you will bless those who still bow to your glorious name. We pray these things in all the Divine’s names. Amen.”
He opened his eyes slowly to see a warm meal before them. Stuffed pig with roasted garlic potatoes, asparagus, carrots, and many other vegetables. Their drinks consisted of Surille Brother’s wine, vintage 399; a legendary quality reserved for this special occasion. “Let us eat,” he said then.
As everyone began to eat their meal, Markus couldn’t help but notice that as Garren was chewing on the garlic potatoes he was looking as if he would gag them up any moment. And sure enough Garren started coughing rather hoarsely. But was caught his eye was his brother’s teeth. Long pointed fangs replaced his canine teeth! “Surely I must be seeing things,” he reasoned to himself and continued eating as if he saw nothing.
“How does everything taste, my brother?” Markus asked kindly.
“Remarkable,” Garren replied as he stuffed a piece of asparagus and pig. “Though I must admit I have an allergic problem with the amount of garlic. Nonetheless, I am quite enjoying this meal.” He smiled then, showing his teeth; normal canines shown now. Markus assumed that what he saw was now surely a trick of the eye.
Rosaline was devouring her roasted pig, for it was her favorite food. In her hasty greed, her hand slipped while cutting and was cut. Blood seeped from the small wound as she whimpered in mild pain. “Oh shoot,” she remarked. “I’m sorry I’ll have to clean this up.” As she said this Garren’s eyes were locked on the sight of Rosaline’s wound. His now red glowing eyes stared with a cold hunger, and when Markus saw this, he grew suspicious. This was no mere illusion.
“Garren,” he called. His brother blinked, almost like he was out from a trance. The red in his eyes quickly faded back to dark brown. “I’m going to refresh myself in my room. If you will excuse me.”
“By all means,” Garren replied. “Take your time, dear brother.”
Markus then paced rather swiftly to his quarters, and went straight to his closet. He opened it wide and took out a brown suitcase. Opening it revealed the garb for a Vampire Hunter. Silver-blessed stakes, hidden knives for throwing, holy tomes, etc. In particular, Markus grabbed one of the stakes and placed it between his belt and took the knives that were sheathed and wrapped it around his body. He then covered himself with a coat and made his way back to the dining room... but he was too late.
Garren stood behind Rosaline as she was washing her wound. The look on Garren’s face told Markus that danger was in his home, a Vampire. “Rosaline, behind you!” Markus shouted as he withdrew his silver stake.
Rosaline turned as Garren sank his teeth into her neck, drinking deeply her blood dry. His lips were covered in dripping red blood. He smacked them, savoring the sweet taste. His eyes glowed dark with red iris centering them, and his teeth now fully shown his long fangs. Looking at Garren he hissed loudly with a hint of laughter. “How noble of you to invite a Vampire into your home, Markus, especially one is renown as one of the Dark Brotherhood’s greatest assassin’s of the fourth era. I am he, Garren Drakul Lucanus!”
Markus could only grit his teeth in anger as his eyes watered. He could only roar in anger, “You son of a bitch! What have you done?”
“I have taken care of Rosaline,” Garren remarked with sarcasm. He noticed the stake in Markus’ hand and commented, “And you come prepared. Very good, I am impressed Markus.”
Filled with rage, Markus charged at the Vampire and held high his stake in his right hand. In his left, lay a small shock spell. With enough force, and Garren being caught off guard, they tumbled to the ground as Markus ran into his brother. He then slammed the stake into Garren’s left hand, pinning him down. The Vampire screamed in pain as the silver boiled his blood. Markus looked at him dead in the eye. Garren tried fighting back, and was successful in slashing Markus’ face with bloodied marks. The Vampire Hunter returned the favor by placing his left hand – still holding the shock spell – on the left side of Garren’s face. In pure agony, Garren screamed as his left eye was blinded and horrible marks and deformities were carved into his face. In a fury, he kicked Markus off of him with force and hastily removed the stake from his hand. His left hand now bore a hole within and he clenched it in pain.
“Damn you Markus!” he roared. He searched around the room for something to threaten with and eyed Ivan, who stood instilled with fear. Without hesitation, Garren grasped the boy by the arm and hollered, “Move one step and the boy dies.” He sneered then, knowing he had triumphed.
It was then that Markus looked up the Heavens and knelt down reverently.
“Yes, yes, bow before your superior!” Garren gloated in ecstasy. He observed Markus and then rose suspicion.
Markus was in deep thought, praying to the Nine Divines for help. “Akatosh, God of Time. By all that is Holy, hear me out,” he prayed. “Here lies a being defiling Arkay’s cycle, who's kind are a blight upon this world, birthed by Daedra. I need your blessing for morning to arrive, for the Sun shall burn this monster to Oblivion.”
He opened his eyes and was amazed at what he saw. Just over the horizon, a blinding light was rising in the sky. Garren was laughing in victory when he felt himself smoking. He released the boy and turned towards the light.
“Agh! You would dare let your brother die?” he winced greatly and fell to a knee. His skin was burning by the sun. Markus was over-joyed to see this. “Thank Akatosh! He heard me!”
He walked up to Garren and knelt so they were of equal height. “It is only because we are brothers by blood, that I will give you this one chance of mercy Leave,” he said in a cold voice that shook Garren, “and never return. Think about what you have done, and forgive yourself. If you do not, then that is your choice. When next we meet, Garren... Justice shall be done.”
The Vampire stared down Markus and knew he only had one choice. “Very well. I do hope we meet again soon, brother. I will enjoy breaking you,” he said as he began to dissipate in a dark, blood-mist. The last thing Markus heard was a dark laugh that would be the nightmare in his dreams for years to come.
All Markus could think about now was what had just transpired here. He looked at Ivan, still frozen in shock. Markus took hold of his son and wrapped him in his coat. He held him close and embraced him lovingly. “Don’t worry my son,” he whispered in Ivan’s ear. “That monster will never harm you again. This I vow.”
