Joranus Tentalius unsealed the heavy Dwemer doors, exposing the hallway beyond to the light of present day.The light flowed into the hall and revealed swirling clumps of dust imprisoned for thousands of years.He produced a torch and lit it with a small magic fireball.Holding the torch in his left hand, he unsheathed his ebony blade and gripped it tightly in his right hand.He moved around a little to make one last check that his glass armor was fitted properly.Not detecting any defects, he stepped into the ancient hall.
Joranus stepped as lightly as he could on the metallic floor so as not to alert the denizens to his presence.The place was deathly silent, unlike all previous Dwemer ruins he had explored.There was no humming from old machines defiantly forging on in the neglected halls, no creaking and clanking from centurions still tenaciously guarding their extinct masters’ once magnificent homes.It didn’t sit right at all with Joranus.It was just too quiet.
After carefully walking down the long hall, he came upon another door.He carefully examined it and discovered that it was locked and trapped.He sheathed his sword, took out his lockpick and probe, and set to work.Within a couple minutes he had defeated the rusted lock and disarmed the trap.He then put the pick and probe away and restored his blade to his hand.
He pressed his ear against the door and strained to hear any little noise.However, there was still only silence.The only noise he could hear was the sound of his own lungs drawing breath.With his heart pounding against his ribs like a hammer striking an anvil, he slowly opened the door a little and poked his head through the narrow opening.He surveyed the room and saw nothing except for a few old tables and a desk, all completely bare and smothered in rust.No machinery, no centurions or any other type of being.
He couldn’t think of any reason why there weren’t any guards or monsters or any machines.He was confused, and the absence of these common features had him growing more uneasy by the second.He was to the point where he was expecting some otherworldly being to jump out of the shadows at him at any moment.He inhaled deeply and fully opened the door.
He walked about cautiously, glancing over the ancient tables.He rummaged through the drawers of the desk and found a few Dwemer coins which he slipped into a pouch strapped to his waist.He wandered aimlessly about the room for a moment, looking everywhere.The glow that the lights on the walls cast on the rooms had always seemed warming, but now it looked menacing.It was like a herald for some unholy force that was waiting for just the right moment to set upon Joranus.
At last satisfied that there was no danger in the room, Joranus walked up to a door beside the old desk and gave it one of his thorough examinations.Finding neither a lock nor a trap on it, he opened it.As the door swung open, it revealed another empty, dimly lit hallway.He looked around and carefully stepped into the hall.
He crept down the hallway, still trying to hear the faintest sound of activity.However, his ears just couldn’t pick up any noise save for his own breathing and the sound of his footsteps.He continued down the hall to a large door, also unlocked and without a trap.He pressed his ear against the door, trying to hear the slightest noise on the other side.Try as he might however, he heard nothing.
Joranus was now seriously considering leaving the ruin.The lack of the common centurion guards and the absence of the loud machinery told Joranus that there was something sinister here.The lack of valuables also contributed to the “leave the ruin” side of the argument as there didn’t seem to be much chance for monetary gain.He just stared at the door, debating on whether to press on or leave.
Suddenly, he got the feeling he was being watched.He looked behind him, but saw nothing.He had some experience with mysticism and Dispel was one of the first spells he learned.Thinking he was being set upon by an invisible assailant, he cast Dispel.However, the spell revealed nobody.
Joranus gripped his blade even tighter and held his torch like a second sword.It was a style he was keen to learn.He used his blade as the offensive weapon, while the torch was used for blocking.The torch also functioned as a nice club when it needed to.
Joranus knew there was something approaching him.He felt it getting closer and closer until finally, as if he had a sixth sense, he felt something behind him.He wheeled around and assumed a defensive stance.
Joranus’s instincts had been right.He looked upon a figure with glossy eyes, exaggerated muscles, and pronounced features.The figure smiled an evil smile that revealed two long, sharp fangs.It was a vampire.
The vampire immediately lunged at Joranus.It was in a blood frenzy.It probably hadn’t tasted blood in years.This was a very hard-to-reach ruin.The monster flew at him with a flurry of punches.It was all Joranus could do to keep from being struck.
The vampire continued hurling fist after fist at the Imperial explorer, fueled by unnaturally high energy and chance to drink blood for the first time in a long time.Joranus was tiring, but the vampire never slowed; he knew he would eventually wear the adventurer down.
Joranus also realized that he would tire out long before the vampire.He also realized that to have any hope at all of escaping this place with his life, he would have to strike back, possibly even kill the unholy creature.He willed his fear under control and began looking for holes in the vampire’s routine.It didn’t take long for him to see them.
The vampire tried an uppercut, but Joranus blocked it with his torch and struck the attacker in the face with the hilt of his sword.They were still in the hall and it was difficult to find swinging room.Joranus knew he would have to take the fight back to that room for him to use his fighting skills at their full capacity.
Joranus began retreating down the hall, keeping pace with the vampires blows.Once they entered the room, however, the Imperial went from defensive to offensive.
He blocked a punch to his stomach with the torch and countered with an uppercut to the vampire’s jaw which he immediately followed up with a slash across the demon’s chest with his sword.The vampire growled, angry from the pain.He let out a roar and charged Joranus.
Joranus sidestepped the wild lunge and speared the vampire through the chest with his sword as he passed by.The creature staggered for a moment and then turned to face Joranus.However, it did not come at him again.Instead, it summoned a fireball and hurled it at him.The bastard had suddenly remembered that he could use magic.
Joranus dodged to the left, but there was another fireball already coming.He dodged it as well.While the vampire was working up another one, Joranus suddenly had an idea.He ran over to one of the tables and with adrenaline surging through his arms, he lifted it and hurled it at the vampire.
The vampire aborted his fireball and dodged the table, but Joranus had thrown another table right after that one and it was too close for the vampire to dodge.It struck it and slammed it against the wall.
The vampire tried to rise, but Joranus hurled a third table at him, this time striking him right in the center of his head.The vampire’s body went limp; it was out cold.
Finally, the adrenaline wore off and Joranus collapsed momentarily on the ground, his muscles exhausted from such extreme exertion.After taking a moment to collect his wits, he rose up and hobbled over to where the vampire lay pinned against the wall; it was still knocked out.
Joranus surveyed the floor and collected his sword and torch.Before leaving, he walked over to the vampire, held its head up by its hair, and severed its neck, killing it forever.
His foe finally defeated, he made his way to the exit.As he passed through the doorway, he was greeted by the warm sun and a beautiful view of the surrounding hills.He breathed in the fresh air and untied a scroll from around his waist.
He read the parchment and in seconds, he was standing in front of the temple at Ald-ruhn.He went inside the temple and straight to the healer.As the healer tended his wounds and checked him for infection from the vampire, a thought suddenly occurred to him.Couldn’t he just have read the scroll when he was first attacked and have skipped the fight altogether?
For just a moment, he felt stupid.Then he realized that there wouldn’t have been nearly enough time to untie the scroll from his waist, unroll it, and read it before the vampire either killed him or ripped it to shreds.
“Ok, you’re all done!The healer exclaimed in a cheery voice.”She was a Dunmer woman, middle-aged with long, black hair and cherry red eyes.“You don’t have the vampire’s disease and your wounds are small.They will be fully healed soon.You are welcome to use one of the guest beds to rest.I can see you’re exhausted.”
“Thank you.”Joranus replied, accepting the offer.He paid the healer her money and sauntered over to the guest beds.He didn’t remove his armor. He made it a habit of sleeping with it on so he wouldn’t have trouble sleeping on long expeditions.He fell on the bed and his muscles relaxed.His eyelids were as heavy as those dwarven tables with which he’d clocked that vampire.
As his eyelids slowly covered his eyes, Joranus reflected on what he had just been through.He had fought a vampire in an old, dark, abandoned ruin miles away from civilization, and he had done it alone, and won.For him, it was like he had entered hell and lived to return and tell the tale.
To Hell and Back
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Joranus Tentalius unsealed the heavy Dwemer doors, exposing the hallway beyond to the light of present day. The light flowed into the hall and revealed swirling clumps of dust imprisoned for thousands of years. He produced a torch and lit it with a small magic fireball. Holding the torch in his left hand, he unsheathed his ebony blade and gripped it tightly in his right hand. He moved around a little to make one last check that his glass armor was fitted properly. Not detecting any defects, he stepped into the ancient hall.
Joranus stepped as lightly as he could on the metallic floor so as not to alert the denizens to his presence. The place was deathly silent, unlike all previous Dwemer ruins he had explored. There was no humming from old machines defiantly forging on in the neglected halls, no creaking and clanking from centurions still tenaciously guarding their extinct masters’ once magnificent homes. It didn’t sit right at all with Joranus. It was just too quiet.
After carefully walking down the long hall, he came upon another door. He carefully examined it and discovered that it was locked and trapped. He sheathed his sword, took out his lockpick and probe, and set to work. Within a couple minutes he had defeated the rusted lock and disarmed the trap. He then put the pick and probe away and restored his blade to his hand.
He pressed his ear against the door and strained to hear any little noise. However, there was still only silence. The only noise he could hear was the sound of his own lungs drawing breath. With his heart pounding against his ribs like a hammer striking an anvil, he slowly opened the door a little and poked his head through the narrow opening. He surveyed the room and saw nothing except for a few old tables and a desk, all completely bare and smothered in rust. No machinery, no centurions or any other type of being.
He couldn’t think of any reason why there weren’t any guards or monsters or any machines. He was confused, and the absence of these common features had him growing more uneasy by the second. He was to the point where he was expecting some otherworldly being to jump out of the shadows at him at any moment. He inhaled deeply and fully opened the door.
He walked about cautiously, glancing over the ancient tables. He rummaged through the drawers of the desk and found a few Dwemer coins which he slipped into a pouch strapped to his waist. He wandered aimlessly about the room for a moment, looking everywhere. The glow that the lights on the walls cast on the rooms had always seemed warming, but now it looked menacing. It was like a herald for some unholy force that was waiting for just the right moment to set upon Joranus.
At last satisfied that there was no danger in the room, Joranus walked up to a door beside the old desk and gave it one of his thorough examinations. Finding neither a lock nor a trap on it, he opened it. As the door swung open, it revealed another empty, dimly lit hallway. He looked around and carefully stepped into the hall.
He crept down the hallway, still trying to hear the faintest sound of activity. However, his ears just couldn’t pick up any noise save for his own breathing and the sound of his footsteps. He continued down the hall to a large door, also unlocked and without a trap. He pressed his ear against the door, trying to hear the slightest noise on the other side. Try as he might however, he heard nothing.
Joranus was now seriously considering leaving the ruin. The lack of the common centurion guards and the absence of the loud machinery told Joranus that there was something sinister here. The lack of valuables also contributed to the “leave the ruin” side of the argument as there didn’t seem to be much chance for monetary gain. He just stared at the door, debating on whether to press on or leave.
Suddenly, he got the feeling he was being watched. He looked behind him, but saw nothing. He had some experience with mysticism and Dispel was one of the first spells he learned. Thinking he was being set upon by an invisible assailant, he cast Dispel. However, the spell revealed nobody.
Joranus gripped his blade even tighter and held his torch like a second sword. It was a style he was keen to learn. He used his blade as the offensive weapon, while the torch was used for blocking. The torch also functioned as a nice club when it needed to.
Joranus knew there was something approaching him. He felt it getting closer and closer until finally, as if he had a sixth sense, he felt something behind him. He wheeled around and assumed a defensive stance.
Joranus’s instincts had been right. He looked upon a figure with glossy eyes, exaggerated muscles, and pronounced features. The figure smiled an evil smile that revealed two long, sharp fangs. It was a vampire.
The vampire immediately lunged at Joranus. It was in a blood frenzy. It probably hadn’t tasted blood in years. This was a very hard-to-reach ruin. The monster flew at him with a flurry of punches. It was all Joranus could do to keep from being struck.
The vampire continued hurling fist after fist at the Imperial explorer, fueled by unnaturally high energy and chance to drink blood for the first time in a long time. Joranus was tiring, but the vampire never slowed; he knew he would eventually wear the adventurer down.
Joranus also realized that he would tire out long before the vampire. He also realized that to have any hope at all of escaping this place with his life, he would have to strike back, possibly even kill the unholy creature. He willed his fear under control and began looking for holes in the vampire’s routine. It didn’t take long for him to see them.
The vampire tried an uppercut, but Joranus blocked it with his torch and struck the attacker in the face with the hilt of his sword. They were still in the hall and it was difficult to find swinging room. Joranus knew he would have to take the fight back to that room for him to use his fighting skills at their full capacity.
Joranus began retreating down the hall, keeping pace with the vampires blows. Once they entered the room, however, the Imperial went from defensive to offensive.
He blocked a punch to his stomach with the torch and countered with an uppercut to the vampire’s jaw which he immediately followed up with a slash across the demon’s chest with his sword. The vampire growled, angry from the pain. He let out a roar and charged Joranus.
Joranus sidestepped the wild lunge and speared the vampire through the chest with his sword as he passed by. The creature staggered for a moment and then turned to face Joranus. However, it did not come at him again. Instead, it summoned a fireball and hurled it at him. The bastard had suddenly remembered that he could use magic.
Joranus dodged to the left, but there was another fireball already coming. He dodged it as well. While the vampire was working up another one, Joranus suddenly had an idea. He ran over to one of the tables and with adrenaline surging through his arms, he lifted it and hurled it at the vampire.
The vampire aborted his fireball and dodged the table, but Joranus had thrown another table right after that one and it was too close for the vampire to dodge. It struck it and slammed it against the wall.
The vampire tried to rise, but Joranus hurled a third table at him, this time striking him right in the center of his head. The vampire’s body went limp; it was out cold.
Finally, the adrenaline wore off and Joranus collapsed momentarily on the ground, his muscles exhausted from such extreme exertion. After taking a moment to collect his wits, he rose up and hobbled over to where the vampire lay pinned against the wall; it was still knocked out.
Joranus surveyed the floor and collected his sword and torch. Before leaving, he walked over to the vampire, held its head up by its hair, and severed its neck, killing it forever.
His foe finally defeated, he made his way to the exit. As he passed through the doorway, he was greeted by the warm sun and a beautiful view of the surrounding hills. He breathed in the fresh air and untied a scroll from around his waist.
He read the parchment and in seconds, he was standing in front of the temple at Ald-ruhn. He went inside the temple and straight to the healer. As the healer tended his wounds and checked him for infection from the vampire, a thought suddenly occurred to him. Couldn’t he just have read the scroll when he was first attacked and have skipped the fight altogether?
For just a moment, he felt stupid. Then he realized that there wouldn’t have been nearly enough time to untie the scroll from his waist, unroll it, and read it before the vampire either killed him or ripped it to shreds.
“Ok, you’re all done! The healer exclaimed in a cheery voice.” She was a Dunmer woman, middle-aged with long, black hair and cherry red eyes. “You don’t have the vampire’s disease and your wounds are small. They will be fully healed soon. You are welcome to use one of the guest beds to rest. I can see you’re exhausted.”
“Thank you.” Joranus replied, accepting the offer. He paid the healer her money and sauntered over to the guest beds. He didn’t remove his armor. He made it a habit of sleeping with it on so he wouldn’t have trouble sleeping on long expeditions. He fell on the bed and his muscles relaxed. His eyelids were as heavy as those dwarven tables with which he’d clocked that vampire.
As his eyelids slowly covered his eyes, Joranus reflected on what he had just been through. He had fought a vampire in an old, dark, abandoned ruin miles away from civilization, and he had done it alone, and won. For him, it was like he had entered hell and lived to return and tell the tale.