Post by Will on May 8, 2011 11:15:35 GMT -5
Sorry guys this one is kind of long-I just couldnt find a good way to end it shorter. Hope you like it!
The Dark Brotherhood had picked the wrong person to assassinate. Years of stealth and combat training as a personal guard of the Countess of Windhelm, and they thought they could kill you with one of their greenest men. The young Argonian had jumped from a nearby roof as you escorted the Countess to the castle as she arrived home after a diplomatic trip to Markarth, to the west.
The assassin had not targeted the Countess, he had sprinted straight for you, dagger held in a backhand stance, and you could have laughed at the look of shock and pain in the killer’s face as you severed his sword hand before he could strike. The other three of the Countess’ guards were rushing her towards a nearby building, thinking that the assassin had come for her, but you knew better. This assassin was sent by the Dark Brotherhood, but the contract had come from someone much darker. The old Count of Windhelm.
Five years ago, you had discovered the Count had been unfairly taxing the citizens of the city, hiding behind a story of hiring more guards to defend the city against a made up outbreak of the Undead. He never expected one of his own guards to turn on his lies, to side with the citizens. A mob of at least a hundred citizens had stormed the castle, setting the fortress ablaze. As the fighting continued, more and more of the castle guards had joined the rebellion, eventually fighting their way to the Count’s chambers. Viciously cut and burned, he managed to escape with his life, but only after swearing his vengeance upon you. So it came to this. His wife, who had admitted to being forced into marriage at threat of death after his escape, had taken the position as Countess of Windhelm, and was always praised as fair and just.
As the defeated Argonian scrambled to escape, you threw a powerful kick which landed on his backside, causing him to trip and crash into the wall of a nearby home. You grabbed him by the throat and pinned him against the wall, your face an inch away from his own. You could see almost no emotion on his reptilian face, but you could almost smell his fear.
“I-I won’t tell y-y-you anything” he cried. “The Brotherhood will have me killed!”
You throw him to the ground, drawing your bow and aiming an arrow directly at his heart.
“OKAY! D-Don’t kill me! Scar- That’s all we knew him by- gave the Brotherhood a contract- I swear I do not know where he is, but the Speaker for my Brotherhood met him at his home. There’s a mausoleum for the Suhtilis Family in the city’s graveyard. It‘s a secret entrance to the Brotherhood’s meeting place. They meet tomorrow, where they were supposed to pay me for this contract. That’s all I know, by the Nine, I swear!”
“The Nine,” Those were human gods. This Argonian had to have been raised by Imperials. How he ended up in the Dark Brotherhood, you could not guess, but you assume he had not joined on his own will. You sigh and drop your bow, giving him a Scroll of Healing (All of the Countess’ guards carried one for emergencies) and advised him to find a new line of work. He sprinted off, cradling his stump of an arm. You felt bad for him now, but at the time the threat he posed was unknown. You headed back to your chambers in the castle to get the night’s rest.
You awake in the early morning, and decide on light chainmail armor rather then heavy steel. You would be fighting assassins, and you would need to be able to move at speed. The Countess herself had ordered you to bring death to the Brotherhood and the old Count. You bring with you a finely crafted dagger made from Elven steel that the Countess had awarded you after you overthrew her corrupt husband. You also decide on a steel shortsword, not wanting to be encumbered by your heavy longsword during combat. You gear up and head out.
You walk to the graveyard, walking through the graves to the mausoleum the assassin spoke of. The heavy stone door was covered in dust, and looked like it has not been moved in ages. Did the assassin lie to you? You walk around the back of the mausoleum and notice the grass is cut in a circle. You feel the ground, and you can feel the tingle of Magika on the grass. The assassins must have a Mage teleporting them in. You find a suitable hiding spot inside a full birch tree, which you climb and perch on a strong branch.
For hours you sit there, your training keeping you alert. As soon as dark begins to fall over the city, you see a tall hooded figure slowly walk towards the mausoleum. You can see the pricks in his hood that could only mean one thing- Elf ears. The High Elf crouched down in the back of the mausoleum, and chanted his spell under his breath. The circle in the grass shone bright blue, then faded to a dull pulsing purple color. He stood on the circle, and you watched as he sunk straight into the ground. One by one more people did the same, you counted eight of them total. The last one to arrive was wearing robes as dark as a Vampire’s soul, and a small female figure who was about to step into the portal dropped to her knees and bowed to him. This must be the Speaker. Both of them stepped into the portal, sinking through the ground.
You could not take the portal. For all you knew of the magical arts, only members of the Brotherhood could use it and live. You walk to the front of the mausoleum and push on the door with all your strength, but it would not budge. You draw your steel shortsword and thrust it into the small gap between the stone door and the outside of the mausoleum, and pull on it as hard as you can. You feel the door come loose, but the thin blade snaps and nearly slices one of your fingers off. You curse and drop the broken hilt, grasping your Elven dagger. You manage to squeeze your arm behind the door, and with a grunt, you dislodge the stone slab and make your way into the mausoleum.
A dark spiraling staircase sank into the ground, and you begin to climb down as quietly as you can. At the bottom of the stairs is a steel door, you can hear voices behind it, sounding far off as though down a long hallway. You silently push open the door, and proceed down the dark hall. There are three doors on either side of the hallway. You can hear two men speaking inside the first on the left. You need to get a real weapon incase a real fight breaks out. You peer through the keyhole and see what appears to be a Nord, like you, and a wood elf, who seemed to be half the Nord’s size.
The Nord had his back to you, but the Wood Elf was across from him, with a clear view of the door. You had to be fast. You listened to see if you could hear any voices from any of the other rooms, but everything was quiet.
You stood, drew the Elven dagger, and kicked out at the door, smashing it off it’s hinges and slamming it against the Nord’s back. He fell over, and the wood elf let out a small shout, before you thrust the dagger into his chest. The Nord let out a roar as he stood up, and began to draw two Dwarven-made longswords from inside his robes. You sprint forward, landing a hook punch right on his kidney. He collapsed onto his knees, and you grasped the hilts of his two longswords, drawing them and beheading the Nord assassin. These people deserved no mercy. Two of your enemies were dead, and you had weapons of extremely high quality. You take the sheaths of the weapons off of the dead Nord, and strap them over your armor.
You leave the room, and continue down the hall. None of the other rooms are occupied, and as you turn a corner at the end of the hallway, you see one last room. The door is almost glowing red, and it had designs of human figures who seemed to be cringing in pain under a large skull in the air.
Suddenly, you hear a hissing voice coming from the door itself.
“What is the color of Night?”
You stand there silently, wondering what you should say, when you hear a voice coming from the other side of the door. The voice sounded Khajiit.
“It must be the new recruit. Didn’t anybody tell him the password?”
And the door opened. The Khajiit looked at you for one second, his eyes opening wide in surprise. “WHO IN SITHIS’ NAME ARE YOU?” he hissed, and then all hell broke loose. You drew your new longswords, kicking the Khajiit back, and you charged into the room. Five assassins surrounded you, each drawing a weapon, and one of them, the high elf who created the portal, held up both hands, and you watched as they ignited into flame.
You swung your right sword down, splitting the Khajiit’s skull, and felt a dagger’s stab nearly pierce your chainmail from behind. You had not anticipated a full-on battle, or you would have worn your plate armor.
You turned, swinging both longswords to the left, cutting down the dagger-wielding Redguard woman. The other two melee fighters charged, one of them a Dark Elf with a simple iron shortsword, the other a large Orc with a massive silver Claymore he seemed to pull from nowhere. You kick away the Dark Elf with the shortsword, and cross your longswords into an X shape to parry the Orc’s claymore strike. You throw your blades apart, making the Orc lose balance and he trips over a stone bench. You leap over the bench, and bring down both swords, stabbing through the Orc’s body, just as the Dark Elf lunges at you with his shortsword, he was too close to avoid, and the attack landed on your arm.
The blade was nearly blunt, and would leave a bad bruise but nothing worse. You kick him again, sending him tumbling back, when suddenly you feel a blast of scorching heat crash into your back. You turn to see the High Elf, a look of pure rage on his face, generating another fire spell to throw at you.
He hurls the ball of flame towards your head, you dodge to the side, and the attack crashes into the Dark Elf, setting his robes ablaze. He screams in agony, and you spin with your longswords, putting him out of his misery. The mage is roaring in anger now, tossing spell after spell at you, with all the accuracy of a drunken archer. You effortlessly dodge his spells, and grin as the fire in the mage’s hands dissipates as the mana in his body runs dry. He draws a tiny steel dagger, and sprints towards you, and you don’t even bother killing the helpless mage, as you crash a gauntleted hand into his head, knocking him out cold.
There is another door in the back of the room. You smash it open with your boot, and feel a heavy impact on your chest. An arrow had pierced the outer leather layer of your armor, but had been stopped by the chainmail on the inside. You see the Dark Brotherhood Speaker backed against the wall, trying to nock another arrow. You pull out the one in your chest, throwing it to the ground, and you unsheath your Elven dagger, throwing it at the Speaker. The dagger hits it’s intended target, sinking into his leg and dropping him to his knees.
You deliver a powerful kick to his body, before grabbing him by the throat.
“I would assume you’re looking for Scar?” he hissed. “My Brotherhood is gone, and I will never fight again with this injury. We have not yet been paid, so I have no need to hide the information. The man has been taken by the darkness. He has become a Vampire. He resides inside of Ymirgar’s Stand, the old fortress north of this city.
You release the Speaker, and turn to leave when you hear the sound of a blade being unsheathed. You turn to fight, but watch as the Speaker plunges a silver shortsword into his own body, and falls to the ground, dead.
You sigh at the stupidity of some people’s “Honor” and head back out of the mausoleum, picking up the Orc’s silver claymore and gathering his sheath, strapping the heavy weapon to your back. Then you strip the Dark Brotherhood robes off of the Orc, revealing heavy steel armor. You put the robes over your shoulder and head out of the Mausoleum and back to your chambers, where you quickly fall asleep.
You wake up and equip your heaviest steel armor, strapping the silver claymore to your back. You also bring the two Dwarven longswords, sheathing them at your sides, and the Elven dagger, which you attached to your boot straps. You would not find yourself caught without a proper weapon this time. You pull the Orc assassin’s robes over your head, they are much too big for you, but succeed at the job of hiding your armor, weapons, and identity.
You decide not to use the main gate of the city, as other guards might find you suspicious with the robe. You struggle to scale a wall behind the city’s smith, and drop down the other side, and begin heading north. You knew the fortress the Speaker told you of, you had actually been there before, when you were a hunter before being accepted into the city guard.
You walk to the large door to the fortress, and pull on the handle, and are surprised when it slides open easily. You slowly walk inside, and find yourself inside a large stone room with four long ancient wooden tables and at least a hundred wooden chairs spanning the long room. It must have been a dining hall at one point. There was a raised stone platform with a throne in the middle. On the throne, alone, sat the old Count. He sat perfectly still as you walked down the hall and stopped about ten steps in front of him, your robe hiding your face.
“What has become of my target, assassin?” he hissed. You can see a massive scar going from the very top of his forehead, all the way to his chin, crossing over his right eye. The other half of his face and his left arm and hand were badly burned, and his eyes glowed bright red from his Vampirism.
You reach up and grasp your hood, ripping it down and gripping the hilt of the silver claymore. The Vampire stands, a look of pure hate on his twisted face.
“YOUR DEATH WILL BE BY MY OWN HAND THEN!”
You charge towards him, bringing the claymore over your head, but the Vampire moves with unbelievable speed, rolling out of your range, and draws two small silver daggers, lunging at you and landing five strikes on your torso, shredding the robe and revealing your steel armor.
You slash backward with the claymore, but he gracefully sidesteps it, slashing at your face with his daggers. He lands a cut on your cheek, and another on your neck, although not deep enough to cause any real damage. You flail the heavy weapon around, but he dodges it with ease. You throw a kick, knocking him back, and you raise the claymore above your head, hurling it at him. It was close, but he manages to evade it, and it crashes into the wall behind him.
You rip open your robes, unsheathing your dual longswords, and begin to slash at the demon, but his speed was too great, he landed four strikes for each of your misses. If it were not for your thick armor you would have been dead ten times over. The vampire dives through the air, crashing into you and knocking you onto the floor. He kneels over you, and plunges both of his daggers towards your neck. You have no choice but to drop the longswords to block his attack with your gauntlets, trying to push his blades away from your throat.
He throws off your arms, and raises his daggers for another strike, but you reach down and grip the dagger in your boot, slashing it upwards and sinking it to it’s hilt into the Vampire’s shoulder. He hisses and rolls off of you, and you stand and grasp a nearby wooden chair, swinging it around and smashing it into the Vampire’s head, snapping off two of the chair’s legs.
The Vampire loses his balance and falls, and you grip the ends of the broken chair legs and climb onto the fallen Vampire. He swings at your face with his daggers, but you lean back and they miss. You raise the two chair legs above your head, and stab the sharp, broken ends of them into the Vampires chest. You stab again and again, and the Vampire suddenly bursts into flame. You tumble off of him, patting out flaming shreds of the small amount of robe that remains on you. You collect his silver daggers, and head home to inform the countess that you had completed your quest.
The Dark Brotherhood had picked the wrong person to assassinate. Years of stealth and combat training as a personal guard of the Countess of Windhelm, and they thought they could kill you with one of their greenest men. The young Argonian had jumped from a nearby roof as you escorted the Countess to the castle as she arrived home after a diplomatic trip to Markarth, to the west.
The assassin had not targeted the Countess, he had sprinted straight for you, dagger held in a backhand stance, and you could have laughed at the look of shock and pain in the killer’s face as you severed his sword hand before he could strike. The other three of the Countess’ guards were rushing her towards a nearby building, thinking that the assassin had come for her, but you knew better. This assassin was sent by the Dark Brotherhood, but the contract had come from someone much darker. The old Count of Windhelm.
Five years ago, you had discovered the Count had been unfairly taxing the citizens of the city, hiding behind a story of hiring more guards to defend the city against a made up outbreak of the Undead. He never expected one of his own guards to turn on his lies, to side with the citizens. A mob of at least a hundred citizens had stormed the castle, setting the fortress ablaze. As the fighting continued, more and more of the castle guards had joined the rebellion, eventually fighting their way to the Count’s chambers. Viciously cut and burned, he managed to escape with his life, but only after swearing his vengeance upon you. So it came to this. His wife, who had admitted to being forced into marriage at threat of death after his escape, had taken the position as Countess of Windhelm, and was always praised as fair and just.
As the defeated Argonian scrambled to escape, you threw a powerful kick which landed on his backside, causing him to trip and crash into the wall of a nearby home. You grabbed him by the throat and pinned him against the wall, your face an inch away from his own. You could see almost no emotion on his reptilian face, but you could almost smell his fear.
“I-I won’t tell y-y-you anything” he cried. “The Brotherhood will have me killed!”
You throw him to the ground, drawing your bow and aiming an arrow directly at his heart.
“OKAY! D-Don’t kill me! Scar- That’s all we knew him by- gave the Brotherhood a contract- I swear I do not know where he is, but the Speaker for my Brotherhood met him at his home. There’s a mausoleum for the Suhtilis Family in the city’s graveyard. It‘s a secret entrance to the Brotherhood’s meeting place. They meet tomorrow, where they were supposed to pay me for this contract. That’s all I know, by the Nine, I swear!”
“The Nine,” Those were human gods. This Argonian had to have been raised by Imperials. How he ended up in the Dark Brotherhood, you could not guess, but you assume he had not joined on his own will. You sigh and drop your bow, giving him a Scroll of Healing (All of the Countess’ guards carried one for emergencies) and advised him to find a new line of work. He sprinted off, cradling his stump of an arm. You felt bad for him now, but at the time the threat he posed was unknown. You headed back to your chambers in the castle to get the night’s rest.
You awake in the early morning, and decide on light chainmail armor rather then heavy steel. You would be fighting assassins, and you would need to be able to move at speed. The Countess herself had ordered you to bring death to the Brotherhood and the old Count. You bring with you a finely crafted dagger made from Elven steel that the Countess had awarded you after you overthrew her corrupt husband. You also decide on a steel shortsword, not wanting to be encumbered by your heavy longsword during combat. You gear up and head out.
You walk to the graveyard, walking through the graves to the mausoleum the assassin spoke of. The heavy stone door was covered in dust, and looked like it has not been moved in ages. Did the assassin lie to you? You walk around the back of the mausoleum and notice the grass is cut in a circle. You feel the ground, and you can feel the tingle of Magika on the grass. The assassins must have a Mage teleporting them in. You find a suitable hiding spot inside a full birch tree, which you climb and perch on a strong branch.
For hours you sit there, your training keeping you alert. As soon as dark begins to fall over the city, you see a tall hooded figure slowly walk towards the mausoleum. You can see the pricks in his hood that could only mean one thing- Elf ears. The High Elf crouched down in the back of the mausoleum, and chanted his spell under his breath. The circle in the grass shone bright blue, then faded to a dull pulsing purple color. He stood on the circle, and you watched as he sunk straight into the ground. One by one more people did the same, you counted eight of them total. The last one to arrive was wearing robes as dark as a Vampire’s soul, and a small female figure who was about to step into the portal dropped to her knees and bowed to him. This must be the Speaker. Both of them stepped into the portal, sinking through the ground.
You could not take the portal. For all you knew of the magical arts, only members of the Brotherhood could use it and live. You walk to the front of the mausoleum and push on the door with all your strength, but it would not budge. You draw your steel shortsword and thrust it into the small gap between the stone door and the outside of the mausoleum, and pull on it as hard as you can. You feel the door come loose, but the thin blade snaps and nearly slices one of your fingers off. You curse and drop the broken hilt, grasping your Elven dagger. You manage to squeeze your arm behind the door, and with a grunt, you dislodge the stone slab and make your way into the mausoleum.
A dark spiraling staircase sank into the ground, and you begin to climb down as quietly as you can. At the bottom of the stairs is a steel door, you can hear voices behind it, sounding far off as though down a long hallway. You silently push open the door, and proceed down the dark hall. There are three doors on either side of the hallway. You can hear two men speaking inside the first on the left. You need to get a real weapon incase a real fight breaks out. You peer through the keyhole and see what appears to be a Nord, like you, and a wood elf, who seemed to be half the Nord’s size.
The Nord had his back to you, but the Wood Elf was across from him, with a clear view of the door. You had to be fast. You listened to see if you could hear any voices from any of the other rooms, but everything was quiet.
You stood, drew the Elven dagger, and kicked out at the door, smashing it off it’s hinges and slamming it against the Nord’s back. He fell over, and the wood elf let out a small shout, before you thrust the dagger into his chest. The Nord let out a roar as he stood up, and began to draw two Dwarven-made longswords from inside his robes. You sprint forward, landing a hook punch right on his kidney. He collapsed onto his knees, and you grasped the hilts of his two longswords, drawing them and beheading the Nord assassin. These people deserved no mercy. Two of your enemies were dead, and you had weapons of extremely high quality. You take the sheaths of the weapons off of the dead Nord, and strap them over your armor.
You leave the room, and continue down the hall. None of the other rooms are occupied, and as you turn a corner at the end of the hallway, you see one last room. The door is almost glowing red, and it had designs of human figures who seemed to be cringing in pain under a large skull in the air.
Suddenly, you hear a hissing voice coming from the door itself.
“What is the color of Night?”
You stand there silently, wondering what you should say, when you hear a voice coming from the other side of the door. The voice sounded Khajiit.
“It must be the new recruit. Didn’t anybody tell him the password?”
And the door opened. The Khajiit looked at you for one second, his eyes opening wide in surprise. “WHO IN SITHIS’ NAME ARE YOU?” he hissed, and then all hell broke loose. You drew your new longswords, kicking the Khajiit back, and you charged into the room. Five assassins surrounded you, each drawing a weapon, and one of them, the high elf who created the portal, held up both hands, and you watched as they ignited into flame.
You swung your right sword down, splitting the Khajiit’s skull, and felt a dagger’s stab nearly pierce your chainmail from behind. You had not anticipated a full-on battle, or you would have worn your plate armor.
You turned, swinging both longswords to the left, cutting down the dagger-wielding Redguard woman. The other two melee fighters charged, one of them a Dark Elf with a simple iron shortsword, the other a large Orc with a massive silver Claymore he seemed to pull from nowhere. You kick away the Dark Elf with the shortsword, and cross your longswords into an X shape to parry the Orc’s claymore strike. You throw your blades apart, making the Orc lose balance and he trips over a stone bench. You leap over the bench, and bring down both swords, stabbing through the Orc’s body, just as the Dark Elf lunges at you with his shortsword, he was too close to avoid, and the attack landed on your arm.
The blade was nearly blunt, and would leave a bad bruise but nothing worse. You kick him again, sending him tumbling back, when suddenly you feel a blast of scorching heat crash into your back. You turn to see the High Elf, a look of pure rage on his face, generating another fire spell to throw at you.
He hurls the ball of flame towards your head, you dodge to the side, and the attack crashes into the Dark Elf, setting his robes ablaze. He screams in agony, and you spin with your longswords, putting him out of his misery. The mage is roaring in anger now, tossing spell after spell at you, with all the accuracy of a drunken archer. You effortlessly dodge his spells, and grin as the fire in the mage’s hands dissipates as the mana in his body runs dry. He draws a tiny steel dagger, and sprints towards you, and you don’t even bother killing the helpless mage, as you crash a gauntleted hand into his head, knocking him out cold.
There is another door in the back of the room. You smash it open with your boot, and feel a heavy impact on your chest. An arrow had pierced the outer leather layer of your armor, but had been stopped by the chainmail on the inside. You see the Dark Brotherhood Speaker backed against the wall, trying to nock another arrow. You pull out the one in your chest, throwing it to the ground, and you unsheath your Elven dagger, throwing it at the Speaker. The dagger hits it’s intended target, sinking into his leg and dropping him to his knees.
You deliver a powerful kick to his body, before grabbing him by the throat.
“I would assume you’re looking for Scar?” he hissed. “My Brotherhood is gone, and I will never fight again with this injury. We have not yet been paid, so I have no need to hide the information. The man has been taken by the darkness. He has become a Vampire. He resides inside of Ymirgar’s Stand, the old fortress north of this city.
You release the Speaker, and turn to leave when you hear the sound of a blade being unsheathed. You turn to fight, but watch as the Speaker plunges a silver shortsword into his own body, and falls to the ground, dead.
You sigh at the stupidity of some people’s “Honor” and head back out of the mausoleum, picking up the Orc’s silver claymore and gathering his sheath, strapping the heavy weapon to your back. Then you strip the Dark Brotherhood robes off of the Orc, revealing heavy steel armor. You put the robes over your shoulder and head out of the Mausoleum and back to your chambers, where you quickly fall asleep.
You wake up and equip your heaviest steel armor, strapping the silver claymore to your back. You also bring the two Dwarven longswords, sheathing them at your sides, and the Elven dagger, which you attached to your boot straps. You would not find yourself caught without a proper weapon this time. You pull the Orc assassin’s robes over your head, they are much too big for you, but succeed at the job of hiding your armor, weapons, and identity.
You decide not to use the main gate of the city, as other guards might find you suspicious with the robe. You struggle to scale a wall behind the city’s smith, and drop down the other side, and begin heading north. You knew the fortress the Speaker told you of, you had actually been there before, when you were a hunter before being accepted into the city guard.
You walk to the large door to the fortress, and pull on the handle, and are surprised when it slides open easily. You slowly walk inside, and find yourself inside a large stone room with four long ancient wooden tables and at least a hundred wooden chairs spanning the long room. It must have been a dining hall at one point. There was a raised stone platform with a throne in the middle. On the throne, alone, sat the old Count. He sat perfectly still as you walked down the hall and stopped about ten steps in front of him, your robe hiding your face.
“What has become of my target, assassin?” he hissed. You can see a massive scar going from the very top of his forehead, all the way to his chin, crossing over his right eye. The other half of his face and his left arm and hand were badly burned, and his eyes glowed bright red from his Vampirism.
You reach up and grasp your hood, ripping it down and gripping the hilt of the silver claymore. The Vampire stands, a look of pure hate on his twisted face.
“YOUR DEATH WILL BE BY MY OWN HAND THEN!”
You charge towards him, bringing the claymore over your head, but the Vampire moves with unbelievable speed, rolling out of your range, and draws two small silver daggers, lunging at you and landing five strikes on your torso, shredding the robe and revealing your steel armor.
You slash backward with the claymore, but he gracefully sidesteps it, slashing at your face with his daggers. He lands a cut on your cheek, and another on your neck, although not deep enough to cause any real damage. You flail the heavy weapon around, but he dodges it with ease. You throw a kick, knocking him back, and you raise the claymore above your head, hurling it at him. It was close, but he manages to evade it, and it crashes into the wall behind him.
You rip open your robes, unsheathing your dual longswords, and begin to slash at the demon, but his speed was too great, he landed four strikes for each of your misses. If it were not for your thick armor you would have been dead ten times over. The vampire dives through the air, crashing into you and knocking you onto the floor. He kneels over you, and plunges both of his daggers towards your neck. You have no choice but to drop the longswords to block his attack with your gauntlets, trying to push his blades away from your throat.
He throws off your arms, and raises his daggers for another strike, but you reach down and grip the dagger in your boot, slashing it upwards and sinking it to it’s hilt into the Vampire’s shoulder. He hisses and rolls off of you, and you stand and grasp a nearby wooden chair, swinging it around and smashing it into the Vampire’s head, snapping off two of the chair’s legs.
The Vampire loses his balance and falls, and you grip the ends of the broken chair legs and climb onto the fallen Vampire. He swings at your face with his daggers, but you lean back and they miss. You raise the two chair legs above your head, and stab the sharp, broken ends of them into the Vampires chest. You stab again and again, and the Vampire suddenly bursts into flame. You tumble off of him, patting out flaming shreds of the small amount of robe that remains on you. You collect his silver daggers, and head home to inform the countess that you had completed your quest.