The Grey - V

Solitude loomed down over her latest guest, imposing a strong Imperial presence right from the off. Guillem approached the gate, and surprisingly, the guard asked no questions before letting him pass. The city was fair enough inside. Brightly coloured bunting lined the rooftops of the square he entered into, and the streets were clean and in bloom. He did notice, though, a faint, bloody stain on some of the cobbles by the gate, from some past execution, no doubt. Pretty as she was, Solitude was a harsh, draconian creature.

Down at the Winking Skeever, Guillem asked his usual questions. The innkeeper, Corpulus, obliged by telling him, in a voice perhaps not as hushed as would have been appropriate, that the Jarl's wizard, Sybille Stentor, had recently enquired about someone willing to deal with some "unpleasant business," as he put it, after which he advised Guillem not to do anything to "piss her off", as it were.

A little uncomfortable for the general vibe of the inn, Guillem still allowed himself to remain and order a meal. The inkeeper's son, Sorex, saw to that. The lad looked rather distant as he dropped a plate down in front of the weathered Imperial, prompting a concerned inspection.

"You look a little pale," Guillem mentioned, trying to get a glimpse of the man's neck, hidden as it was by his collar. He wasn't too concerned, though he'd seen the same pallid, absent look on thralls before.

"Hm?" The younger Imperial seemed to notice him, despite having served him, and seemed to come round a little. "Ah, it's nothing."

"Are you sure?" Guillem asked, swilling the wine in his cup. "Have you been out of the city recently?"

"Boy's not been out of Solitude for weeks," his father interjected, staring Guillem down for a moment. "He helps me here, at the inn, no need to leave the city. Been where I can see him the whole time, ask anyone." Corpulus, aware of Guillem's business in Solitude, laid things down rather firmly, and then added, to lighten the mood, "was with some woman the other night, if I recall."

"That'll be Vivienne, then," chirped the resident bard as she passed.

"Who? Oh, no, not her..."

Guillem tuned out of the conversation after that, and not wanting to overstay his welcome, moved on towards the Blue Palace. He found Sybille with relative ease, seated calmly in the throne room with a moderately sized tome laid open in front of her. After a rather curt conversation on her part, Guillem found himself directed towards Pinemoon cave. As the mage saw it, the place was likely a vampire nest.

The cave wasn't a far walk from the city, a little way off the main road. All that lay outside was an aged camp, and little else. Peering into the depths of the cave mouth, weapon drawn, Guillem could smell the overpowering scent of death. He grimaced for a moment, readying himself, before heading in.

The area he entered into was littered with various bones, most – thankfully – from deer. From the looks of things, the place appeared to be inhabited by wolves, though none were around to be seen. Stooped low through a short tunnel, Guillem made his way deeper into the cave, and found it opened out into a rather spacious cavern.

It was here that the Imperial spied his quarry; three potential vampires moved around a lit altar. From the looks of them, it was easy enough to deduce the apparent pecking order. Not one to wait around aimlessly, Guillem raised and aimed his crossbow, keeping to the shadows. Despite the creatures' superior vision in the dark, it was still much more covert than just waltzing into the light and declaring oneself as present; attempting to gain the advantage by surprise was more to the common man's logic.

The first vampire was dispatched in seconds, even Guillem was a little surprised at how easy the woman fell. Her death did, of course, alert her kin to the presence of their hunter. With the element of surprise spent, Guillem bolted into the room.

The remaining two vampires turned on him immediately; the second female drew a blade, whilst the male, highest in rank and most severely taken by the disease, curled a spindly hand in conjuration of a bout of crimson Magicka. The first attempt to hit him missed, as Guillem rolled across the cave floor – notably sustaining some bruises that served to remind him of his age – and took aim at the second vampire. She was not six feet from him when he fired, and at such close range she was an almost unmissable target for the veteran shooter. The bolt pierced her chest, and she turned to dust mid-motion, spraying the cave floor with her remains.

Guillem hardly had time to stand before he found himself engaged in combat a second time. The minute he was at his feet, a powerful blow struck him across the cheek and sent him on his back again. It was a wonder he managed to keep a hold of his weapon, which he cocked and loaded in one fluid, expert motion, before drawing the weapon up to meet the advancing patriarchal bloodsucker.

The vampire, an Altmer, was tall, gaunt, and incalculably old given the genes of his race coupled with the perks of being a vampire. There wasn't much question as to why he was at the head of the small coven, and he was upon Guillem in an instant. The heavy, stinging ray of red Magicka ceased as the former High Elf drew a clawed hand about the Imperial's neck. With his natural height and unnatural strength, he had drawn the mortal up to meet his gaze, away from the secure press of the ground.

His hiss came loud as he choked a little of the life from his hunter, forcing Guillem to relinquish his hold on the crossbow and grasp at the hand clutched beneath his jaw. There was a clatter, a sharp snap, and another, faltering hiss, and the grip around Guillem's neck slackened and released. His feet found the floor, and he backed off an instinctive few paces, hand going for the iron sword he carried as an auxiliary means of attack, but he found he had no need of it. The vampire, crumpled on the floor, had one limp hand clutched on a protruding crossbow bolt, fired upon the weapon's impact with the floor. To be safe, as was always his concern, Guillem drew the sword on second thought and rendered the corpse headless, at which the body reacted violently, disintegrating into a mound of gleaming ashes.

Retrieving his weapon, the Imperial made sure to collect a few samples from each slain monstrosity, stowing them away in a satchel separate from the pouch in which he carried his herbs. Alchemist or no, he had no wish for the dusted remains of former people to come into contact with anything he was potentially going to ingest. Despite his distaste, however, he was well aware that such alchemical ingredients were rare and hard enough to come by. Packing them away, he took his leave of Pinemoon cave.