Beautiful Blood

The Dark Elf couple, Dulam Gilvaan and Naltris Valyn visit Mournhold for a bite to eat and to pick up some gossip concerning servants of one of the demonic Daedric Princes: Mephala.

Contains: Blood, excessive violence.

Beautiful Blood

The male dunmer carried himself like a nobleman, strutting through the streets of Mournhold in the finest silks from Vvardenfell, his pale, clean-shaven face sporting a slight smile as he breathed damp air. The day had been dreary and overcast, a sheet of roiling clouds stretching high above the city like a gray mosaic.

The Royal Bazaar wasn’t as busy as usual, which gave the mer in question much greater freedom of movement. He strolled from one tent to another, perusing the wares of one merchant before walking to another, as if partaking in some elaborate, daily ritual.

He brushed his hair with his hand, the black tufts just barely long enough to be held back by his ears. The whiff of something tasty stole his attention. He turned and saw a elderly looking nord talking to a spice merchant a few feet away from him. He walked up as the young merchant bent behind her counter to pull a satchel out for the nord to open and look into. She smiled warmly when he walked up.

“Good morning, serjo.”

The nobleman chuckled. “Please, call me Dulam. We’re well past being on a first name-basis, wouldn’t you agree, Rulrila?”

The merchant’s dark cheeks flushed red slightly as she turned away. “I’ll uh… I’ll be with you in just a moment, Dulam.”

The scruffy nord grumbled under his breath as he dropped a small pouch of gold on the counter before walking off. Dulam silently swiped the pouch before reaching in into his vest and then pulling the same pouch out as she turned back around.

“What can I get you today?” Rulrila asked, trying to maintain a business-like demeanor.

He dropped the pouch on her counter as he leaned in on it. “Maybe I just wanted to brighten your day. To see you smile.”

She glanced at the pouch for a moment before biting her lip and squirming in place slightly. Dulam smirked as he drew his tongue across his pointed teeth. She looked back up at him sheepishly.

“Well um… thank you,” she said as she reached for the pouch.

His hand went to hers, his fingers firmly but not threateningly wrapping around her palm as he lifted it up slightly. “Would you care to join me for a drink later? I’ve got a lovely vintage of wine at my manor, and would adore it if you’d join me over a glass of it.”

She chuckled. “I don’t have any plans tonight. I suppose I could join you.” She smirked as he let go of her hand. “You practically have to kill someone to find a good drink these days, much less with good company.”

His eyes brightened as he grinned. “You have no idea…”

“There he is!” A shrill voice came from behind Dulam. “That’s the monster who killed him!”

Dulam sighed as he heard armored footsteps coming towards him. He turned to look at a frail-looking female argonian in simple clothes and a male ordinator in full armor. There was a fine line that had be to walked as a vampire living in polite dunmer society, one that had become increasingly more difficult since the lizard-folk of Black Marsh were given freedom from their slavery by the Ebonheart Pact, not that a cross word would ever slip Dulam’s lips while he was before an audience.

So he composed himself and donned his carefully constructed mask which consisted of a warm smile and a loose flamboyant step in his stance and demeanor. He knitted his brow upward in a concerned look as he smiled slightly.

“You’re certain?” The ordinator asked.

The argonian rasped again. “Yes! I’d know that deathly face anywhere! He murdered my husband!”

The ordinator waved her off, seeming tired and slightly irritated. He seemed to look at Dulam, though it was hard to tell through the metal mask standard for ordinators.

“Ugh, Dulam Gilvaan, you’re under arrest for unprovoked murder and for possible daedric worship.”

Dulam frowned, appearing shocked. “What nonsense is this? I didn’t kill anyone, I’ve been in the bazaar all morning! Ask anyone here, they’ll tell you.”

“Yes you did! I saw you from the balcony of my house. You came into our home just before dawn and stabbed my Xaxith right in the living room! Then, spiders crawled out of the wound, spewing red webs all over him” The argonian beat her fist on the ordinator’s armor. “Don’t just stand there! Do something!”

The ordinator sighed again. “Come on, Gilvaan, let’s sort this out. I have two witnesses who say they saw you enter Xaxith’s house and saw you leave shortly after, and the body is as she describes. Come with us and explain why you aren’t a daedric abomination after all. Please, I don’t want to deal with this if it is…”

“Well, this is ridiculous!” Dulam said as he crossed his arms in a huff. “Such vile accusations! How do you know this woman is not a spider cultist who slew her husband in Mephala’s name? I’m being framed!”

“You dare-” the argonian started.

“Enough! You’re both coming with me whether you like it or not. Now!” The ordinator growled.

Dulam sighed, as he rubbed his brow. “Oh, very well…”

Dulam reached into his vest pocket and drew out a small vile. Before the ordinator could react, Dulam had drunk the contents of the vile and vanished in a shimmer of shadowy energy. They all stood confused and afraid for a few moments before a crash off in the distance caught his attention.

“Gilvaan! Get back here!” The ordinator said before running off, leaving the argonian to wander away towards one of the large storehouses.

She hugged her legs as she knelt down in one of the corners, shivering as she wept. A smooth female voice started breathily singing an eerie, wordless tune.The argonian jumped to her feet before looking around. The air was still, the light from outside the doorway of the building seeming to grow paler and distant as a chill ran down her scaled spine.

“Over here…” the voice said in a sing-song tone from behind her.

The woman looked behind her and saw nothing but stacks of cargo-boxes and barrels. All of them were sealed and covered except for one barrel, the lid sliding open just a sliver. The argonian bared her teeth and hissed at the barrel before glancing back towards the door, for some reason unable to compel herself to simply bolt, the stillness in the air almost feeling to solidify between her and the door, as if in a dream.

“It’s alright… don’t be afraid, love. I’ll make it all better...” the ghostly voice said before giggling.

The argonian drew a small dagger fashioned from bone from her belt before quickly reaching for the barrel and pulling it off. When she peered inside, all she found was a black spider with glowing red eyes.

A pale female dunmer suddenly grabbed the argonian from behind, clenching the argonian’s jaw closed with one hand, and grasping the arm with the dagger in the other.

“What’s the matter?” The dunmer woman asked, her smooth voice tainted by a savage growl. “Don’t want to play with me?”

The argonian desperately tried to break free, but the muscular female dunmer’s limbs unbending at the argonian’s efforts. The dunmer giggled as the argonian tried to scream through her clamped mouth. After a moment of this, the dunmer bit down into the argonian’s neck, taking a large bite and pulling flesh in a spray of blood.

Dulam suddenly reappeared next to the barrel in a shimmering wave of red wisps as the spider crawled out and jumped onto his arm. The dunmer woman sank her teeth into the argonian’s flesh again before ripping out her throat with her fangs. The argonian collapsed on the ground in a heap as the woman spat out the gore and stroked her chin and neck, her fingers smearing through the blood.

Dulam raised his eyes at the woman as blood trickled down her neck towards the exposed section of her gray leather vest.

“Ever a maker of messes, Naltris.”

Naltris followed his gaze down towards her chest as she smeared blood across her breasts with her thumb. She looked back up at him and smirked.

“Want to clean it off me?”

Dulam chuckled as he looked around the corner. “Love to, but not here. The Ordinators will be looking for me now.”

She kicked the argonian’s corpse in the face with enough force to knock her over. “Who was that thing?”

“The wife of a vampire-hunter from the Fighter’s Guild. He was looking for evidence of Mephala worship in Mournhold, somehow found me. I thought his house was cleared when I killed him, but evidently she was watching.”

Naltris shrugged. “Too bad. Did you find out who the hunter was tracking? I’d be interested if there actually were other spider cultists in this boring city.”

“No I-” Dulam stopped short as he and Naltris both found themselves staring at a young dunmer girl, who looked to just barely be in her teens.

She stared into the darkness at the two vampires with a look of silent terror, her dark-red eyes wide. She looked down at the mangled body of the argonian, her hands and mouth trembling before looking back up the pair of ghoulish dunmer in front of her. She watched as Dulam took a step towards her before she bolted at full sprint away from the building.

Naltris sighed. “Oh well. Been a good minute since I killed a little girl. I’ll meet you back at the manor. We’ll talk more about it all there.”

Dulam nods as he glanced back towards the bazaar. “I’m bringing a friend for dinner. Lovely girl. You’ll like her.”

Naltris licked her lips before rolling her shoulders and vanishing into the darkness, her voice turning ghostly again. “Sounds delicious. I can’t wait!”

Dulam looked down at the daedric spider on his shoulder before chuckling. “Come then, little friend. There are still more lives to ruin in Mephala’s name…”