Voices roaring, waterfalls raging.
The proud men of Solitude and Whiterun had finally caught their quarry.
Sword arms were tense and firm, bows taut, strings lined with arrows.
The thief was cornered...



"Finally fuckin' caught you, bitch!", Ingmarr, captain of the guard, spattered.
His voice a furious mix of exhaustion, vitriol, and exasperated victory.
His axe, honedand sharp, was aimed directly at the target of his ire. "Nowhere left to run, now!"



Arria glared back, quiet, sure confidence filling her.
She hadn't planned to find herself on the edge of cliff, but she was rarely a girl without options.
After all, what was a rogue without a little daring? "You might be right about running..."

"...But, how 'bout we go for a little swim?", with a sudden grace, the redheaded maiden, pressed with sudden strength, throwing herself backwards into the chasm behind her.

"Wait-!", Ingmarr threw himself at her, but the distance was too great. Neither him or the guards on his flank could cover the distance in the singular moment it took for Arria to leap off the edge. And though the archers may have loosed their arrows, it was a perplexing shot to make.

Chains rattlings, hair billowing, the voluptuous rogue fell like a stone, casting over the storied walls of the waterfall into the rapid river below.
She fell with an unusual certainty, the only thing on her mind being survival; her continued freedom.

 

By the time the captain reached the edge, the imperial rogue had already plunged deep into the water's depths, a resounding splash rendered moot by the bluster of the waterfall. Only a hazy impression of disturbed water remained as Ingmarr peered over the edge.

Eyes downcast, the anger in the man's expressions were replaced by familiar despondence.
His whiskers bristled as he let out a sigh, presumably of defeat.

The guard, his eye on the horizon, for signs in the river, remarked passively. "We'll find her, sir."

"We will, lad", the captain replied, hefting his old, worn axe. "We will".

Her fall had not been flawless.
Though she landed clean and without injury, Arria had nevertheless dived into a river of treacherous ridges and many a sharp rock.
Swept up in the raging currents, she'd had no control over where the river took her, leading to a rather upsetting collision with the underwater structures in her path.

A powerful blow left her head bruised and scarred, and her consciousness faded.
It was only Lady Luck that saw her cast out on a shallow edge somewhere along the rivers path.

As fortune would have it, it wasn't the guards pouring down the road on horseback, but a young man, armed with a bow and the simple desire to sate his hunger, that would stumble upon the river. Guided to its banks by his own prey, a heavily bleeding buck, felled by an arrow... or eight.

He loomed over his prize, excessively proud of his accomplishment, but doing his best to remain focused.
His small hands cast out over the larger mammal, assessing the pelt. Small stain of blood, but its hair was relatively free of punctures.

"Good, good, I can sell these", he appraised, doing much to avoid remarking on just how much meat he had secured for himself.

 

It was not the rumble of an empty belly that he would hear, no.
Instead, the boy's eyes turned towards the distraught groan of the passed out redhead nearby. His eyes, understandably, widened at the sight.

"Oh, fuck", the boy muttered loudly, parroting words of an old mentor.

A prize unlike any he'd expect to find in the wilds.
Though he couldn't even to begin to guess at her predicament, he assumed good faith.
No, to him it didn't matter. The young man stood only where he did on the chances others took for him.
It was only right that he pay it forward.

 

 

A sentiment he would come to regret on the journey home. Battered by rain and the encroaching dark of night, kept company only by the rustling of trees and his own haggered breath.

The lad was fortunate enough to make it to his home with a cart full of goods.

Pelts and horns for sale, food for eating, and a beautiful lass the envy of all the Holds.
Clearly, he had struck gold today.
But none of that really solved his conundrum.

He scratched at his head in thought. "Now how do I get you inside?"

Getting her on the cart had been a feat all its own, ignoring her armour, Arria was possessed of plentiful assets, something that made her difficult to carry.
But to leave her in the rain would be bad form, and so he struggled on.

Inside the small hovel he called home, the boy had strewn the contents of his carriage around.
The pelts rested near the tanning rack where they could be properly prepared.
Arria's blades, rested nearby, where he could make use of them if need be.



Venison, claimed in chunks from the day's kill, were hung up on a metal ring, left to dry and flavour.



His bow and arrows, tucked away in their spot.
Atop a chest of his effects, and those of his old caretaker.

 

Last but certainly not least, was the voluptuous rogue he had rescued from the riverside.
Her body a sleeping heap of sweat and water, of ill-timed and shallow breaths.

The boy looked on her with exhaustion.
Doing his best to catch his breath. His work wasn't done yet.

 

 

If he left her as is, she would have come down sick, her armour and clothing drenched as they were.
So, with but a moment's rest, he took to stripping the scarlet-haired maiden of her accouterments, stacking them near candle light to dry.

 

 

He had hardly been the most mindful as he undressed her, leaving the sleeping Arria in a rather open little state.

 

 

A fact that hit him hard as he turned back, his gaze blessed by her beautiful bronzed figure.

"Uh, time to start dinner", he bemoaned, trying to shake his head of the imagery.

 

 

With sleep's firm grasp over her, Arria eventually relaxed into something of a more normal position, gently dozing away as droplets of water and sweat, dried up in the furs around her.

 

Her languid motions and the continued heaving of her breasts however, left the poor boy continually distracted, even as he tried to focus on the evening's meal.

 

His eyes would drift back to her just as soon as he pulled them away, and at times he'd catch himself, having fallen away from chipping away at week old bread, his pupils preferring the other kind of feast before them.

"Ahhhhhhh, I can't take this!", he cried aloud.

 

 

 

Seemingly that had been enough to provoke the bountiful beauty from her slumber.
Eyes peered wearily, at first casting their sights over her own body.

 

 

She turned in a daze, her unclear vision casting over a silhouette she struggled to make out.

 

 

Arria blinked, and shook her head, struggling to clear the haze over her sight.

 

 

With repetition the fog began to clear, the details before her becoming much clearer.

"mo----- ---ld"

 

 

Stood before her was a man of unmistakable quality.
Clad in worn, fine robes.
The symbol of Stendarr hung from his sash.
A glass sword clasped at his side.

"Well good morning there, sleepy head!", he said, a tone of remarkable nostalgia.

 

 

Arria looked at him, confusion, delirium, disbelief. A picture of muddled
feelings. The only words she could muster. "It can't be... father?"

 

 

"Its been a long time", said the wizened breton, his voice reassuring, pleasant.
"I finally found my way back".

"No-- this can't-- I saw you that night", though as calming as his voice might've been, the truth that Arria had come to terms with so long ago was not easily remedied.

 

 

 

"Oh, it can be, I assure you", he replied, cutting through the half-finished phrases with certainty. "I'm here, Arria".

It was in that moment that her brand began glowing as it often did...

 

 

 

"Here, let me make you feel better", her father got close, unbearably so, his hands going where Arria would never have imagined.

"W-what the Hell are you doing?!" she cried out, hands and legs thrown at him, pressing him back.

 

 

 

"Come now, is that any way to treat your father?", the tone his voice was the same, but it left Arria with a chilling sensation now, the quiet peace it offered all but disappearing in the moment.

Making things worse, it was only now she realised that something had happened to her.

She felt weak, tired, as if waking from a long, dreamless slumber.

 

 

 

As she eyed the man she would have called father, she quickly came to realise this was a losing battle. 

"Stop! What are you doing!?", Arria raged, resistant, conflicted.
Fear, pain, disbelief, many emotions welled up inside but as each moment passed what should have been a miracle became more and more a nightmare.

Jouane had disrobed with surprising ease, casting his robes and weapons off the side, before joining Arria atop the bed.

 

 

 

When he tired of her resistance, Jouane simply threw her arms off him, forcing the scarlet-haired rogue along at his whim.

 

 

"Gods, stop damn it!", Arria cried again and again, furious.

Doing whatever she could to resist the elder man, who seemed to focus on taking a most perverted approach to his daughter's assets.

 

 

"Just relax", he told her. His large, masculine fingers, gently prodding at the walls of her flower.

His eyes focused on her bountiful bosom, the pert, pink nipples resting at their top.

Arria panted and seethed through gritted teeth.

Exhaustion gripped at her, and so what little defense she had mustered crumbled.

 

 

He loomed over her weakened body, entirely ignoring the ice-cold glare Arria shot at him.

"I think you're ready", he said calmly, hands caressing her hips and thighs as his cock loomed over her tight crevice. 

 

 

He brooked no resistance as he plunged his turgid spear into her pussy, pressing his entire weight against her, pushing her hands down, firmly gripped in his own.

Her eyes were focused entirely on her father. Fear and confusion replaced with a searing anger.

 

 

Though exhaustion gripped her, she still fought back.

Sickened, betrayed, even.

She cried in fury and spite, as she limply struggled against her aggressor.

 

 

But soon he had her crying a different tune, his endless assault, breaking down all of her defenses as rage turned to pleading for him to stop.

His dark blue eyes merely shone down on her, his intent to make her his utterly clear in their bleak pools.

 

 

Rhythmic motions and powerful rutting soon brought him to the edge, his rod, thoroughly stuffed in her flower, began to engorge.

Arria spat daggers at him.

"No! Stop! You can't!", she screamed in urgency.

 

 

 

His hands clamped down on her sides, his pelvis thrust hard against her.

Like a man possessed he penetrated as deep as he could, with no worry or care for his daughter's cries.

The only thing that seemed to matter was the white cream he poured inside her.

 

 

"You fuckin—!", of course, the redhaired maiden wouldn't take it well, but before she could truly admonish Jouane, he had moved on to take her throat as his next port of call.

 

 

Time passed by in a haze, as their positions changed and shifted, Arria couldn't tell if it had been minutes or hours.

The only thing she could count was how many times he'd took her.

 

 

He had begun to slow, seemingly out of stamina, leaving Arria hope for an ending.

 

 

But perhaps her wishes were too hasty, as soon as the thought entered her mind, the vigilant plunged his dick deeper than he'd ever gone before.

Unleashing another load of thick batter into her womb.

 

 

He pulled back only slightly, and where before she could feel his slackening muscles, his grip only tightened, renewed.

"We're going to continue the line, child, one step at a time", he threatened...

 

 

 

 

"No!", Arria shot up from the bed. Her head pounding from the sudden motion.

Her body had broken into a cold sweat, and it hurt everywhere, from top to bottom.



"Woah, woah!", said the young man. "Are you alright? You looked like you were having a weird dream".

 

 

Ice blue eyes cast upon him, and Arria was stricken with utter confusion.

Where she was, what had just happened... It was a dream? She questioned.

 

 

It was then that she felt the nip in the air, the tinge of cold air on her supple, naked flesh.

Her face went red, her limbs instinctively moving to cover her delicates.

"Eyes away you little pervert!", she screamed at him, 'twas easier to focus on the now than the worrisome dream she had suffered through.

 

 

The nordic warhorn exploded with a tremendous screech, alerting all far and wide in the city that the guard were alert.

 

 

Pouring from the jarl's longhouse and the nearby barracks,

men and women bearing the banner and colour of Falkreath rushed through the iron gates of the jarl's hold.

 

 

They flooded the streets, eyes glancing past villagers and travelers as they hunted for their prey.

A thief, the jarl had raved, someone had robbed the lord of Falkreath.

 

 

The gates of the city were quickly sealed by their attendant guards,

leaving those with business elsewhere trapped within where they would be beset by accusations and investigation.

 

 

In their rush to catch the elusive criminal, the guards had passed by what seemed like little more than a romantic couple.

 

 

Failing to notice that, in fact, the rogue who dared defame the lord of the hold was right nearby.

 

 

On the other side of the city, as the guards closed their gates, a surprise guest in Keer-Ja, a Vigilant of Stendarr, was allowed through. 

 

 

The argonian warrior looked on with curiosity, wondering just what was going on.
But before he could work up a question, the rustling of chainmail jerkins beckoned at his senses.

 

 

He turned to find an onslaught of guards pouring onto the scene, the lead of them, sword drawn and glower well prepared.

 

 

"What in the world is happening?", Keer-Ja questioned with his signature rasp, ignoring the blade pointed his way.
 

"A Vigilant?", the guard responded, surprised. "Er, there's a thief on the loose, stole somethin' from the jarl", he explained, tersely.

"You dispense justice, right? Might be you can help", the guard remarked.
 

"Hah, I'll take a look friend, they definitely haven't left this way at any rate", Keer-Ja smiled back before moving on, to the city proper.

 

Meanwhile, with her ruse no longer necessary for the moment, Arria talked her accomplice back.

Those ice blue eyes eyeing him up with certain regard.

 

"Very nice work", said the hooded rogue, a smile painted upon her lips.
 

"Its hard not to give it my best when a pretty girl like you asks for help", the man replied, full of flattery.
 

"Mmm, and a good effort deserves equal reward, yes?", she in turn acted coyly, emphatically revealing a key in her grasp.

 

 

"You know where to go, right?", she asked him, her voice dripping with intent.
 

"I wouldn't forget", he remarked as he took the key, holding it tightly in his grip.
"Last room to the left, after midnight", he recited the plans they made with obvious exuberance.
 

Arria smiled. "Good boy."

 

 

Following Falkreath's well-worn roads towards the heart of the city, Keer-Ja found himself staring at a familiar sight.

What had initially began with curiosity and uncertainty was now painfully clear to the old warrior.

 

"Has my little cherry been stirring up trouble again?", he asked, seemingly accusative, but his laughter punctuated his words softly.

 

 

Arria and her friend had just begun to leave, going their own separate ways when she was halted by the familiar nickname.

 

"Uncle Keer!", caught by surprise, but Arria was nonetheless elated to see her godfather.

 

"I presume the guards are looking for a lady of scarlet hair", Keer-Ja stated knowingly.

 

 

"Not at all!", she claimed in denial. "I've been nothing short of stellar, I promise".

 

 

The beastman laughed. "Alright, alright, I'll choose to believe you", he closed the gap between them so that they might trade words easier.
"Regardless, I'm glad you got my message, I wouldn't want to have to tackle this lot alone".

 

"More vampires?", Arria returned, aware of the long investigation Keer-Ja had been pursuing.

 

 

The scarlet-haired rogue looked at him with intent. "I assume you have something planned, right?"

It was rare that uncle Keer would send them into danger unprepared.

For all his jolly optimism, he was rarely one lacking in caution.

 

 

"Of course, I already scouted out their hideout. Its not far from the city, which is concerning", the blue-scaled vigilant explained relatively flatly.

"But, that is talk for later, come!"

 

 

As he beckoned the pair walked in unison, Arria tilting her head at him. "Oh, you have somewhere in mind?"

 

 

 "Hahahah, where else?!", he laughed as if it were obvious. Though for the faces that knew him in the city, it was.

 

 

The Dead Man's Drink, a surprising favourite for mercenaries and adventurers alike.

Many a face had made footfalls in the well-worn wood.

Keer-Ja was one of their number, having taken a liking to the place during his passings on business.

 

 

Once inside, the pair wasted no time partaking of the local favourite.

Firing backbottles of Falkreath Rosy between them, resting at Keer-Ja's usual spot in the old
tavern.

 

 

When they'd had their fill, Keer-Ja cleared the table and placed out a map for them to look at.

"Here, not far from the city, that's where this lot have holed up", he pointed out a particular spot on the map, where he had already marked with an X. 

 

 

"I take it we're not running into a cozy farm, huh?", Arria asked, jokingly.

 

"Hah, you'd be wrong! Coziest farm in the hold, I've been told", he replied in kind.

"The townsfolk say its an old place, abandoned. Our friends here took over some months ago, and with the war the guard have been hard pressed to displace them"

Keer-Ja ranover the information he'd collected, presenting it quite cleanly, as if rote.

"But, they're important to us because they're not just bandits, they're vampires playing at bandits. Not quite a common occurrence"

he continued, sounding quite trepidatious, something about it all didn't sit well with him.

 

 

"Okay, angry-bandit vampires", Arria said thoughtful, if a little playful. "What's the plan, then?"

 

 

"They don't know we're coming, and we know where they are", Keer-Ja replied with certainty, his plan already in mind.

"So, we sneak in, cast some fireballs, and watch them burn!", the armour-clad vigilant spoke, sounding quite pleased with the idea.

 

 

Arria wasn't sure whether to take him seriously or not. Instead she threw her hands up emphatically, "But, I can't cast magic", she pointed out glibly.

 

 

"Er, you'll be a very pretty distraction, and I'll cast some fireballs!", Keer-Ja corrected lightly, filling the air with his own amused laughter.

 

The scarlet maiden simply smiled back at him. "We'll work on it, then".

 

 

 

As night fell on Falkreath, the guard had taken to questioning all who sought to enter or leave the city,

taking a full report of the folks' answers to a variety of questions.

It was no surprise, really. The jarl of Falkreath was a man of indulgence, and the reward for catching a thief was surely a bountiful one.

 

 

 

But they would find themselves missing their mark, gravely.

With Keer-Ja to vouch for her, she left the city as but an anonymous "Vigilant apprentice".

Together on Keer-Ja's steed, they rode freely into the night.

 

 

Their journey was not altogether unpleasant.

A day's ride from Falkreath they traveled, spending the time on simple banter that amused them both.

The horse occasionally huffed dismissively whenever the topic strayed too close to talk of its features.

 

Having left the road behind, the pair made rest in a clearing not far from their ultimate destination, where they'd leave their steed behind, preferring a less...
ostentatious approach.

"This way", Keer-Ja beckoned, taking the lead as Arria climbed down from the horse. "Right behind you", she replied, flatly.

 

 

Following the treeline, the duo took up perch behind some rocks.

Arria looked at her companion curiously, but clearly ready for a fight.

 

"There, see them?", he directed her with his eyes to look over their perch.

 

 

Over the rocks, and through the trees.

The telltale signs of manmade construction.
A rather elaborate bridge to carry an impressive brazier as it did.

 

"They set up a real watch? I'm kind of impressed", it was rare Arria saw the more ingenious side of banditry, usually sneaking into dens full of drunken idiots,

or caves full of panicky fools expecting an army of guards at any moment.

Genuinely, she was surprised.

 

 

Moving further in, Keer-Ja and Arria took up better positions in the trees arrayed before the bandit's outpost.

 

"A light guard, eh? No patrols on the road, one watch on the far side..."

 

 

"...and one on this end", said Arria, finishing Keer's sentence.

She eyed her target with a keen glare, a firm grip on her sword, ready to pounce. "If we're quick, we can take them out before anyone even notices".

 

 

"Follow my lead, then", he affirmed, stepping forward as his hand lit up with magefire.

His senses clocked in on the bandit on the far side, allowing the flames to build in his palm for a moment.

 

 

Then he loosed a bolt of pure fire, a blazing trail capped by an orb of burning light.

It blew through the air with the roar of an inferno.

 

 

A fact that did not help its target, who turned just in time to see the oncoming blaze as it engulfed him in its flaming glory.

 

 

A raucous explosion rippled outward, the orb of flame rapidly expanding into a powerful incendiary burst of fire and energy,

 consuming the lone bandit and everything around him.

 

 

The detonation of energy had sent much of the tower's decoration flying, whilst its structure charred and burned under the duress of magical fire.

The bandit's body laid still, hardly a feature left that could be identified underneath layers of incinerated flesh.

 

 

 The other watchman wasn't deaf to the noise of course, neither the fury of the blazing bolt, or the dying screams of his kinsmen.

What he had missed were the clamourous steps of Arria's armour as she bolted at him.

 

 

Confusion, shock, fear. An amalgam of emotion painted itself on his face as he did all he could to avoid his attacker.

 But his body merely fell into Arria's impetus.

He stepped back, and she simply closed the gap, unleashing a heavy swing with her sword, that cut deep into his neck.

 

 

 

His head severed cleanly from his shoulders, toppling off into a nearby chair whilst his body convulsed nearby.

The two took stock of their kill, calmly examining his remains in the aftermath.

 

"Yup, definitely vampires", Keer-Ja confirmed, noting all the telltale details he was accustomed to seeing.

 

 

"From all the stories, I'd never have thought vampires would be this ugly", Arria noted, realising this was the first time she'd ever been this close to one.

 

"Hah, rarely is immortality taken for its good looks", the argonian on the other hand, knew their visage well.

 So well he could tell which strain of the disease someone had through their looks alone.

 

 

"Hey! Hey! What are you doing there!?" hissed a khajiit all of a sudden, drawing the attention of the vigilant and the rogue.

 

 

As they looked over the railing, Arria couldn't help but chide her godfather. "No patrols, huh?"

 

"Er... Watch relief, most likely", the lizard rationalised, neither of them seemingly worried about the bandit's presence.

 

 

"Well, now that we've lost the element of surprise...", returning to the accusations at hand, Keer-Ja turned his attention to the khajiit.

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your friends are dead", he spoke, somehow making it sound empathetic,

though that effort wasn't reciprocated by the buxom maiden beside him.

 

"And it looks like you're next", she taunted, those ice blue eyes marking the bandit with intent.

 

 

Predictably, the bandit bolted from the scene, sword drawn in alarm, as he fled towards the nearby farmstead where his cohorts awaited.

 

 

"Trouble! We've got trouble!", the khajiit yelled and yelled, clamouring for the attention of his fellows, vampire and thrall alike.

The group nary had to turn around to find the cause of his distress, Arria and Keer-Ja weren't far behind.

 

 

 "Five of them by my count", the blue scaled Vigilant assessed, calmly. "Standard weapons, only two of them have real armour."

 

"Huh, I thought there'd be more of them", perhaps the group was new, or the vampires aimed to keep eyes off them for a time,

whatever the reason Arria didn't feel worried.

 

 

"Not enough sport for you?", he laughed, drawing his sword forward, the bandits having begun to mobilise properly.

 

"Are there ever enough bandits?", she retorted, a rare chuckle gracing her voice.

The two of them readied, their eyes showed focus.

 

 

Both sides threw themselves at the other, the bandits attempting to use their numbers to divide and conquer their foe.

Arria and Keer-Ja elected to move forward steadily, a united front.

 

 

The air rang with the heavy clang of steel against steel; mace crashing into the hilt of a greatsword, further propped up with Arria's palm for resistance.

The nord bandit pushed and pushed, attempting to break the deadlock, but Arria gave as good as she got, holding firm.

The smirk on her face was a sure sign she was up to something.

 

 

But the trick wasn't from her, but Keer-Ja. His sword swept in swift, slicing at her neck, ignoring the plates of iron that protected her skull and chest from easy blows.
In one fell swoop, the first of the bandit's number had been lost.

 

 

"You bastards!", the khajiit tried to take advantage of the dead weight between himself and the rogue, but he had been predicted,

by the time his sword swung, there was only air in the way, the intrepid imperial having already dropped to her knees.

Sword perched for an easy kill.

 

 

The bandit in the back, having already approached with reluctance found his resolve shattered when their leading member fell.

He looked on in horror...

 

 

...As the same fate befell his comrade.

 Arria's sword punctured straight through him, punishing his missed blow with thorough precision of her own.

 

 

The other bandits had stuck their guns, focusing squarely on Keer-Ja, But they met with much the same level of success.

A blow aimed at his flank was avoided by a careful, predicted backstep.

The bandit flew on past him, carried by his momentum.

 

 

A fact Keer-Ja could not punish, for the next bandit had anticipated the evasion, her sword-arm readied to strike him down for it.

 

 

But he reacted to it with unexpected agility, catching her blade betwixt his own, safely avoiding a fatal blow.

He grinned at her, and she glared back.

 

 

An expression that quickly twisted into fear and pain.

 

"W-wha—", she tried to mouth the words as an unfamiliar grip took hold of her hair, then the cold steel punctured her lungs.

With her opponents bested or cowed, Arria easily took advantage of the female bandit's exposed rear.

 

 

"Fuck!", the bare-chested warrior cried, his will utterly gone now, he turned from the gruesome scene before him, sprinting for the house, his only escape.

"I can't do this!", he yelled a final time before he disappeared behind the wooden facade.

 

 

The last remaining bandit turned, witness to the slaughter of his comrades, and the cowardice of what he'd surely call a traitor. 

 

But he also found his enemies, uninjured and unhindered, glaring back at him, a fact that was now truly frightening in his situation.

 

 

"Are you sure you want to do this, friend?", though Keer-Ja levied the question,

as a Vigilant he had no intention of letting someone who had contracted vampirism, or a thrall to one such being, escape him.

 

"I dare you to try", Arria joined in, far more goading, but being empathetic with others was never her strong suit.

 

 

His armaments clattering to the ground, it was obvious the choice the bandit had made.

The pair expected him to surrender, though his ultimate fate in their hands would still be death.

 

 

Whether he was aware of that or not, the bandit nevertheless decided to flee, as fast and as far away as he could.

 

 

"Well, that was hardly surprising", wiping some small sweat from her brow, Arria looked to her godfather.

"I'll take the one inside", she offered, self-sure she'd have no issues, her tone of voice made that very clear.

 

 

"Alright, I'll catch our little friend", he replied without protest, his raspy voice seeming calm.

"But be careful in there, there could be more", he warned, and his tone quickly shifted to concern.

 

 

"I'll be fine, don't worry", Arria chattered chastisingly, making her way towards the home, sword at the ready.

 

 

"I'll try and be quick, then", he replied with certainty, readying for a rather harrowing run.

 

 

The bandit hadn't made it far, on account of the armour clamped around his body,

but he'd made the smart decision to break for the forest rather than the road, hoping to lose his pursuers.

 

 

Keer-Ja was hot on his heels, quickly gaining pace through a practiced, measured sprint, his lighter attire affording him a little more freedom to move.

 

 

He was laser focused on the nord ahead of him, and as he noted the density of the trees ahead of him, decided a different approach would resolve his issue.

 

 

He flew forward, planting his sword in the soft dirt as he passed.

Energy flowed through his body, emerging from his palm in a familiar flicker.

 

 

Another gout of flame conjured up in his hand, he shortened his breaths, slowed his momentum, taking aim.

 

 

The furious flames unleashed down stream, quickly gaining on the fleeing warrior.

That sound, the deafening roar of a wild blaze, welled up in his ears.

He had barely turned his head to see, when it hit him.

 

 

The result was instantaneous, an uproarious cacophony of fire and ash.

 

 

The surrounding area and the bandits well-cooked corpse burned bright under magefire, though Keer-Ja wasn't particularly concerned.

Without a magical source to keep feeding it, the aetherial blaze would die out before a real fire could start.

 

 

His concern was only on what remained back at the farmstead, on Arria. "Back we go", he muttered to himself, marching with purpose.

 

 

"Wait, wait, you don't have to do this!", the nordic bandit cried, trying to negotiate for his freedom. 

 

 

Arria struck him without remorse, plunging her blade through his chest.

She looked on him rather disdainfully.

"I thought you nords were supposed to be all muscle and bravado, how does a coward even end up as a bandit?", she mocked dismissively.

 

 

Letting her victim fall collapse to the ground, her eyes turned to the nearby stairs. "Now about your..."

 

 

"...friends?", genuinely, the red-haired rogue was surprised to find the next level of the hovel entirely abandoned.

She stepped forward, glancing around for obvious locations where they could be hidden, but found nothing.

 

 

She approached the fire, letting it relax her senses.

"Nothing for it but to wait, I guess", she surmised, knowing uncle Keer would be back in short order.

 

 

Then there was a small click, barely audible under the crackling of the fireplace, that went unnoticed by Arria.

 

 

The bookshelf shifted, its legs just nary a millimetre from the floor, making its transition seamless, and quiet.

From within its confines, a passage was revealed, and a dunmer emerged.

 

 

Red eyes washed over his prey intently, whilst Arria lost herself in her thoughts, oblivious.

 

 

She turned upon the clattering of foot steps, too late to really stop what she saw: A fist colliding with her face.

The dark elf had leapt out from his cover, deftly dealing a blow to his victim.

 

 

The punch on its own wasn't much, but caught by surprise as she was, Arria was unable to support herself during the fall.

Her head collided with the stone floor in a painful thud, her consciousness seeped from her not long after...

 

 

 

The bandit dragged her deep into the hidden portion of their lair.

Finding her shackles broken, he elected to bind her hands with what he had lying around; rope.

He removed the more immediate parts of her attire, casting them off on nearby chairs.

 

 

With the benefit of a closer inspection, he found himself greatly enjoying this capture.

"You'll make a very fine thrall, indeed", his tongue passed along his lips in anticipation.

 

 

He wasted no time disposing of his own attire, clambering upon the table, and with no resistance, he mounted the voluptuous rogue.

 

 

The feeling of his cock parting her lower lips brought Arria back to the waking world startlingly.

Her head was a haze of pain and delirium, but she was quickly made aware of her assaulter's presence as he lurched forward,

pulling at her ropes for leverage as he thrusted his cock into her depths.

 

 

"By my ancestors, you are tight, girl!" With a strengthened grip, the bandit pulled Arria's arms forward, pulling him closer to his hilt.

His shaft dug in deeper, the satisfying squelch of penetration graced his ears.

 

 

"F-fuck... you...", Arria groaned, fatigued but rebellious.

 

"Oh, I intend to", the dark elf replied matter of factly.

 

 

True to his words, the dunmer was quick to press his weight against Arria, pumping his erect, turgid member in and out of her tight, moist sheath.

Arria rebelled as much as she could, struggling against his ministrations...

 

 

...And gritting her teeth when he plunged his cock deeper into her.

She couldn't resist him physically, but denied him as much satisfaction as he could.

What she didn't realise is that her haggard, tight breaths were entirely to his favour.

 

 

Those ice blue eyes glared with an intensity like daggers, intent on burning right through the vampiric elf's head,

but in consequence, Arria's disdain for him only pushed him to rut that much harder.

 

 

Having taken hold of her legs, he had more than given himself enough leeway with which to do so.

Heavy, hard thrusts as he pushed as deep as he could into the scarlet-haired maiden's honeypot.

 

 

She threw herself back, struggling in vein and frustration as she felt his member grow, pulsing as he began to edge inside her.

 

 

He roared in ecstasy, pushing his cock to the furthest depths of Arria's pussy all the while unleashing his seed inside that tight, wet crevice. 

 

 

As he pulled his length from her sopping flower, he quickly put it to rest atop her,

his shaft still letting loose whatever ropes of cum remained within, staining Arria's flesh in his milk.

 

 

"Yes, just like that", he remarked in utter satisfaction, having managed to hit her chest before he found himself totally spent.

The venomous glower Arria gave him, it was a perfect picture.

His meaty rod, sensitive but still very much hard, anticipated another round.

 

 

With a little re-positioning he was more than happy to oblige his lower half.
 

"I'll fucking kill you!", Arria raged with another, among many, threats and insults she had thrown through-out their encounter, helpless to do little else.

 

The vampire drew close to her. "Keep that fire girl, I want to miss it when I make you beg for my cock",

he told her, fully intent on sapping her will once he'd had his fun.

 

 

But before that, he would taint and stain her body with his desires.

Thrusting his thick member rapidly into her flower, his eyes mesmerised by her bountiful ass smacking against him in rhythm.

 

 

From his position behind her, it was a little more difficult to catch the same hypnotic motions of her breasts, heaving gently under their rough rutting.

Truly he could see very little of them, but that fact seemed even more tantalising.

 

 

Keenly aware of the eyes on her, Arria had attempted to deny him his fun.

Her hands pulled back, squeezing into her ample chest, holding them from doing little more than jiggling to the heated dance.

 

 

So the dunmer pushed her over, forcing her hands to the ground to keep her steady,

as he plunged his length into her again and again, straddling her hips with his firm grasp.

 

 

"Admit it, you're already mine", he taunted. The tanned beauty closed her eyes, grit her teeth firmly.

She couldn't simply think up a better place in her mind, but she could certainly try to tune him out.

 

 

He pressed against her harder, trying to elicit a response, but to no avail.
 

"Fine, let your body do the talking", he said, almost entirely mocking.

 

 

"It is certainly far more favourable", he claimed, using her delectable pussy to push him over the edge once more, unleashing his entire load inside her.

 

 

"What's all this, lost your bite?", he accused, watching her simply glower at him as his member drew close to his face.

 

"Come find out", she warned glibly.

 

"Oh, I dare you to try", he happily took that challenge.

 

 

Though she resisted, gritting her teeth to prevent him entering her mouth, he eventually managed to push in.

 

 

Her threats to bite him going untested as he rapidly buried his cock in her throat, triggering her gag reflex before she could even try to bite down.

 

 

All Arria could do was stew in her rage, as the vampire plowed her throat without a care.

His rough ministrations, giving him great pleasure, but little for his victim, not that either of them cared about that.

 

 

Both hands on her head, he took full control of their rutting, begetting no resistance as he drew to a climax for the third time.

 

 

He buried his cock in the back of her throat, allowing his seed to unload inside her, regardless of the girl's gurgling protestations.

 

 

But his stamina, and his resources, were hardly infinite.

With that final load painted over his scarlet acquisition's face, he reclined from her and redressed himself,
there were minor duties he had to take care of that would give him a chance to recuperate.

 

He had re-done Arria's binds as well, pulling her arms behind her, for he had plans for his return.

"Rest a while, why don't you, you'll need it", he said pointedly.

 

 

"You're going to die for this", she threatened for the umpteenth time today, her glare burning with fury.

To make good on those words, she had already been assessing how to get out of her current predicament. Which wasn't a good one.

Exhausted, constricted in such a way that would make freeing herself difficult, stuck on a table in a half empty room...

This wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

 

 

"Hah, I'll make sure to check behind the bookcases upon my return, just in case there's any lingering assassins", he mocked, turning to leave.

 

 

 

A little earlier, Keer-Ja had made his return to the homestead.

He was immediately on edge.

The bandit Arria had been after was dead, but she was nowhere to be found...

The house was wrapped up in a veil of dreadful silence.

 

"Damn it, where are you?", he asked himself, stepping deeper into the stone confines.

 

 

In the room below, he was struck with another empty room.

No sign of his godchild, or where she'd gotten off to.

With a little bit of investigation, however, he managed to spot an odd trail of coins leading behind the nearby bookcase...

 

 

...And a button on the wall.

 

"Well, now", he stated, eagerly pressing the mechanism.

 

 

"Seems I didn't investigate well enough", the argonian remarked, finding himself standing in a tunnel that fed well underground.

The design was old, very old.

That didn't matter now, though. It was what laid within that concerned the Vigil.

 

 

Every step of the way he found himself harassed by bandits.

Thralls and lesser vampires alike, but not one of them, even with all their numbers managed to lay a dent in the tranquil fury he expressed,

cutting a bloody swathe through the horde of corrupted beings.

 

 

He approached the inner sanctum of the cave, at the same time the dark elf was leaving for his patrol.

 

 

Leading to a rather fortuitous meeting.

 

"Arria!", Keer-Ja growled. His vision turning red when he saw what had been done, his grip on his blade tightened gravely.

 

"Who in the world are you?!", the dark elf cried, taken aback by this new intruder. 

 

 

"May Stendarr have mercy, creature", the Vigilant declared, snarling fangs at the fore. "For I have none to spare".

 

 

"N-no, wait!", the dunmer stuttered, trying to reason with the robe-clad warrior.
But the grim intensity of emerging magefire made it all too clear that negotiations were over.

Tripping over himself, he tried to flee towards another passage...

 

 

But instead he felt himself burn, Keer-Ja having unleashed a lancing bolt of flames.

They streamed from his hand in an erratic blaze, lashing at the ground with cauterizing blasts all around his target.

 

 

Their intensity quickly focused, and the vampire, cursed with a weakness to flame, rapidly succumbed to them.

 

 

In his rage, Keer-Ja had trouble stopping the blaze, only letting up when he saw that his enemy no longer left a presence.

All that he left behind were embers and ash.

 

 

"Uncle Keer!", Arria shouted, struggling to lift herself to clearly see her sudden rescuer.

A sight like that should have shocked her, but she was unfortunately accustomed to the darker displays of magic and their users.

And in this case, she couldn't care less. More happy that Keer-Ja was there for her than anything.

 

 

"Arria, are you alright?", he rushed over to her, all his rage having washed from his features, replaced entirely with fear, and anxiety.

"I'm sorry, I should have never have let this happen, I—I"

 

 

"I'm okay, uncle", she interrupted, her voice almost soothing.

"But, uh, can you cut me free?", she requested, her state of undress becoming a bit of a problem with eyes like these on her.

 

"Oh, of course!", he obliged, breaking himself from a daze of confusion.

 

 

Recuperated and free of the old farmstead, sure their quarry was dealt with, the vigilant and rogue left on the road. Their journey was quiet for a time.

Tired, worried, concerned.

Arria didn't want to talk about it, Keer-Ja didn't know how.

 

 

They didn't remain gloomy for long, though.

Travellers on the road managed to draw their attention. Sights and wonders of Skyrim too, it was menial, simply passing the time, but they were talking.

 

 

"Almost there, the heart of the Reach", Keer-Ja stated, turning them onto an old stone bridge.

 

"And we aren't even knee-deep in Forsworn", Arria jokingly replied.

 

"Hah, perhaps they slept in today? Everyone is lazy on Loredas!", the argonian continued.

 

At last, however, they had arrived. Sprawling out before them, the city of stone:
Markarth.