Fire And Fangs

Chapter 35

"Look at them." Molag Bal breathed out, his eyes fixated on the shimmering magical portal before him.

His eyes never blinked, and not a single muscle moved, so intense was his concentration. Vaermina smiled a little as she watched him while adjusting the straps of her dress back over her shoulders. He wouldn't change no matter who his champion was. The Champion of Cyrodiil had once been an obsession of his...and she had vanished and no-one had seen her since. And he was doing the same thing now she mused as she turned her attention to the magic portal.

Morgan was running amok now, her arms, wings, claws and magic being used to cut down dozens of men and women as though they were blades of grass and she was a storm. Even now, she had hold of two men in each hand, squirming and holding her hand with both of theirs, trying to get free. Vaermina raised her eyebrow when Morgan brought each man together in a sickening crunch before feasting on their life blood and casting them aside when she felt like she needed to move on.

"What do you think?"

Vaermina looked at him with a smile.

"I think she is hungry." Vaermina replied.

Molag grinned at that as he continued to watch. His two most prized vampire creations fighting side by side. An unstoppable duo, each of them skilled in the art of killing. Serana preferred necromancy and close range dagger attacks. Morgan was much more physical, despite having the form of a Breton, and she charged into her enemy like a werewolf (those disgusting dogs that Hircine loved so dearly, yet were capable fighters all the same) and never seemed to stop her dance of death.

"Amazing." he whispered. "Show me what you can really do ladies."

Vaermina raised her eyebrows again as she watched the two vampires. They were now heading towards the thickest group of fighting mortals. She had to wonder how they would finish off the remainder of their prey. She would have to see what both of them dreamt about that night. She may find a reason as to why they seemed so different in a battle yet complimented each other at the same time.

Serana hissed in pleasure as she threw a man into the wall with a force that broke half the bones in his body and watched as he screamed into the uncaring night sky. It had been too long since she had allowed her most basic vampire desires to come forth so easily, and she revelled in the feeling she was now receiving. Her blood felt as though it was molten steel and her mouth was full of the sweet smell of fresh blood.

Her father had repeatedly claimed that his linage was much more refined and cultured than the other vampire bloodlines, but Serana had always thought he was talking shit. And right now, she knew she was correct and her power crazed father was wrong. The mortals around her still fought each other instead of the two most dangerous foes there and that made them easy pickings. A few tried to attack her whenever she got within striking distance but they never seemed to be able to hit her as she dodged their attacks and killed them with inhuman bursts of speed and strength.

But she was nothing compared to the whirlwind of destruction that was Morgan. Serana admired how she took to the gifts and drawbacks of being one of the night, but the way she waged war was something else to behold. She slashed men and women with her claws and her blade with well aimed strikes, never missing her targets. She was covered in blood and that seemed to transform what used to be a mild mannered Breton into a psychopathic Vampire Lord.

Serana had never been more turned on.

She continued to watch her as she cornered the last of their enemies. Ten men all dressed in Stormcloak attire. Morgan was growling and snarling at them as they waved their weapons at her, hoping to fend her off. Serana knew that Morgan was reacting like this because of her hatred towards the rebels. That and the stench of fear and blood was just pissing her off even more.