Kapitel 220: Thu'ck
The other Vampire Thralls quickly jump into action when their companion's headless body spurts blood all over them. Each drawing their respective weapons and charging at the now visible Michael.
He easily avoids an orc's axe and severs the offender's hand, forcing them to drop their weapon. Another orc with larger tusks than the last attempts to tackle him, but he just casts Hex and kicks their chicken body towards the High Elf at the back attempting to cast spells.
With a *Puff*, the chicken turns back, causing the heavy orc to slam into the elf without losing any momentum. A *Crack!*, lets Michael know that at least one of them was out of the fight. A Nord attempts to bash him in the face with their shield, but Michael twists to the side and slams his shoulder into it instead... Surprisingly, his strength wasn't all that different from the Nord's, despite it being around double the average human, quadruple if you take his Runes into account. Was it a racial trait, or-? His thought is cut off as the familiar sound of an arrow being shot makes its way to his ears.
He grabs the Nord's shield and twists it and himself slightly, causing the arrow to strike the Nord in the shoulder, causing him to stumble and allowing Michael to kick his legs out from under him. "You're strong, I'll give you that, but still not that tough." he mutters as he slams his foot on the downed enemies neck, crushing his windpipe with some difficulty.
"The master will have your head, Outsider!" the imperial-looking archer shouts, not backing down despite the bloodbath Michael had already caused.
Michael ignores the threat and begins Blinking at the remaining enemies in the room, surgically removing them from the equation before reaching the archer. Dodging another hastily prepared arrow, he pulls the bow out of the man's hand and headbutts him in the face, breaking his nose. With him stunned, he grabs him and forces him into one of the wooden chairs the thralls were using and casts Shackles to keep him still.
"Aghk! W-what is this!?" the man exclaims, feeling the ephemeral shackles beginning to shock him and burn into his skin.
*Smack!*
Michael slaps the man in the face with his free hand and leans forwards, "Now, you're going to tell me everything you know about your master, or I'm going to make your life very unpleasant." he threatens, causing the thrall to whimper under his gaze.
Michael spends around ten to twenty minutes 'accompanying' the thrall, but unfortunately, it seems that whatever magic was used to brainwash them also affected their self-preservation and or ability to give out confidential knowledge.
The man looked to want to speak up after having all of his fingers burned off, but every time he tried his tongue stilled in his mouth, making him completely unable to talk... Michael tried to have him write, but again, his hand stopped.
Simply put, thralls were completely unable to betray their masters, Leaving Michael no knowledge of the Vampire that inhabits this place. "Looks like we'll have to go in blind." Michael mutters as he uses Derflinger to cut the thralls head off.
"Partner, I don't know about you but, I'd rather not fight something that can control people like that Ring of Andvari... What if they take control of you? OR ME!?"
Michael snorts, "If they can control me then we're fucked. If they can control you? Well, I'll manage somehow." he chuckles sarcastically.
"I hate you."
"Well, dito." Michael retorts the sword, wondering if that'd become its catchphrase before long... Well, with the amount of undead shit he'd be stabbing Derflinger into, it wouldn't surprise him.
Michael spends another hour climbing through the tomb, traps, occasional skeletons, occasional thralls. The most eye-catching thing there was the wide-open area with actual foliage, where a crack in the cave roof allowed small amounts of light inside, enough so that plants had started to grow.
Finally though, he'd reached what seemed like the end of the tomb... A long hallway decorated by eagle-like statues led into an even bigger room. He invisibly crept through the place, hiding behind a statue as he examines the end of the room.
There, was a Word Wall covered in the script of dragons. Of course, there was also the untouched tomb where a powerful Draugr presumably rested, waiting to be disturbed. That wasn't all though, a vampire was leaning over some wooden tables that'd presumably been carried inside, many sheets of paper and coal littering the desk. From afar, he could vaguely make out the shapes written into the sheets... The vampire seemed to be copying and recording the word wall for some reason...?
Michael didn't have the vaguest clue why they'd be doing that... Maybe they were trying to learn how to shout? Shouting took centuries to learn, as was obvious by how old the grey beard were, but for vampires, this disadvantage didn't mean much... Honestly, it was a scary thought, an army of vampires as powerful at shouting as the greybeards? Now that's an apocalyptic threat. Yeah, fuck the tyranny of the sun, if vampires just isolated themselves for centuries and learned the Thu'um the world would be fucked.
He shakes his head and focuses on the vampire itself. It was female, a wood elf by the looks of her short stature, pointed ears, and distinctly shaped face. She wore the typical garbs used by the Volkihar Vampires, something he remembered well from the game. Red dyed leather robes that wouldn't look out of place in a gothic cosplay store.
"Partner, I'd usually be against hurting women, but... I think I can make an exception for this one... Her eyes look...-" Derflinger starts but Michael scowls and clamps its mouth-thing closed... Unfortunately, he was slightly too late.
The vampire had already heard the sword's whispering, her hearing being far, far more sensitive than most other mortals of this world. "Who's there?" she asks, grabbing an ornate looking golden staff-coloured staff and lighting her off-hand up with a blood-red spell.
AUTORENGEDANKEN 
Niggross
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