Two Graves - The Song of Nephiah and Brelyna

Chapter 1: Vigilante

The Bard abruptly stopped his song and the sound of chatter and laughter vanished as the door swung open. A cloud of snow and ice was cast into the hall by the raging winter storm outside. The fireplace flickered violently, candles were blown out. The dozen battle hardened faces stared at the door, some carefully preparing to draw their swords, others charging a spell behind their backs.

It took a moment for the icy dust to settle and reveal the shadow standing in the doorway. It was a Dunmer girl, no more than 20 years of age, dressed in a fine mage's robe, her long ponytail wet from the snow. She looked across the room and smiled. As tension made way for relief, the inhabitants of the hall burst into laughter, sheathing their swords, sitting back down onto their tables and corner benches.

One of the Vigilants stood up from his stool by the fireplace and took his flagon to a barrel of mead. "What brings you to the Hall of the Vigilants in the middle of the night, little Elf?", he asked as he refilled his drink and the bard continued his song. "Me? Nothing." She took a step aside, revealing the snow storm outside. "By Ysmir's beard, girl! Close the door! Do you not... do you not see the... the storm..."

His train of thought was interrupted by what began as a faint knocking but revealed itself to be heavy footsteps drawing close. Song and chatter fell silent once more. A shape in heavy armor and a hood walked through the door. Hands went towards sword grips yet again, as the vigilants realized, the warrior walking in was dragging two vampire corpses, one in each hand.

The wooden floor boards shook loudly as the dead undead hit the ground. The mage shut the door, quieting the sharp whistling of the wind. It was dead silent, not even the fire dared to crackle. It's light cast a faint reflection in the eyes that lay hidden under the dark hood. The warrior scanned the room, finally locking eyes with a man sitting at a table in the center of the hall. Every Vigilant in the room was prepared to draw iron at a moment's notice. The heavy boots turned right, stepped over the corpse and closed in as people made way for the menacing presence.

The man sitting across the warrior's target vacated his seat without being asked. The warrior sat down. The Vigilant looked nervously to his companions, sitting to his left and right. "Did you kill these abominations yourself, friend? G-good man!" He flinched as the warrior reached up to remove the hood.

"Another one?! You're not a man at all! What is it with Greyskins tonight?!" He laughed until he realized that his opposite neither smiled nor broke eye contact with him. "Listen, Elf, you did Stendarr's work by killing those Deadra worshipers. But if you think, there is a bounty for you, you will leave disappointed." As the rest of the room fell back into lively evening chatter, his words were met by only silence. "What's your name, Elf?" The mage had stepped up behind her. "My name is Brelyna Maryon of house Telvanni. This is Nephiah."

"Nephiah, huh. From what house are you then, Nephiah." No response. He looked at the mage. "Is your friend deaf?" He looked back at the warrior. "That's a nasty scar on your cheek. Pretty little girls like you shouldn't get themselves into trouble like that." He smiled a condescending smile. No response. His amusement turned into anger. "HEY!" His fist hit the center of the table, flagons shook, ale was spilled. "Does she even understand what I am saying?" "She understands everything.", Brelyna said.

"Say, Siegalf.", she continued, "What did you do before you joined the Vigilants?" He was puzzled. "How do you know my name." "Surely you weren't born into the group." "How do you know my name?" "I heard they attract lowlifes and criminals because they are desperate with their numbers dwindling fast against the rising vampire threat." Nephiah began to remove her left glove. "Are you one of those?", Brelyna continued, "One of those lowlifes?" Panic overtook Siegalf as he began to suspect who it was, sitting across the table. "HOW?!" Nephiah removed the final leather strip holding the glove in place and took it off. She then put her hand on the table. A branding iron had left a scar forming the word 'slave' a long time ago. Siegalf's eyes widened.