Chapter 107: Druscashti

The same helpful Orcish vampire I had first met outside Ashmelech directed me to the lair of the Quarra family:

"Mother is sending you to Druscashti then, fledgling? I suppose we can't be sure whether that means she has confidence in you - or she simply wants you destroyed." He gave an unnerving smirk. "In any case, Druscashti is a Dwemer ruin on the eastern ridge overlooking Foyada Bani-dad: a little way east of Khuul. It's big: you won't miss it." The Orc pointed off to the west. "Just so you hold no illusions, child; the Quarra are our enemies. They will kill you if they see you."

With that uncomfortable thought in mind, I set out to the west at a brisk pace. If the Orc's directions were accurate, Druscashti was not very far away; especially considering how fast I could now run - so I elected to go there straight away, and at least scout the place.

For an hour or so I ran through the northern Ashlands, the terrain a featureless grey blur in the dark hours after midnight. My feet made no sound on the soft, drifting ash. I thought about what Dhaunayne Aundae had asked me to do. I doubted very much that she would agree to teach me if I refused her in anything - even once - but this...

I had killed vampires before, of course: quite a number of them - but now that I was a vampire myself, would killing Kjeld be... murder? I remembered Dhaunayne's words: "... as is often the case for our kind, it is a matter of blood...". Vampires of the Aundae and Quarra bloodlines were different to one another. I was different to Kjeld, and he was my enemy. By all accounts he was a killer of mortals too, so...


I could smell Druscashti before I could see it. Or rather I could smell the ruin's occupants: sharp and foul to my nose - akin to someone who has not washed in weeks. Soon the bulbous towers of a Dwemer ruin came into sight above a rise in the ground, and I knew I had found it. Making sure that I was magically invisible first, I crept to the top of the rise to get a good look of the ruin.


There was a gentle slope leading up to Druscashti's entrance - a pair of heavy, semi-circular Dwemer doors at the base of one of the towers. The slope was littered with boulders and the huge shells of dead silt striders. A number of vampires - most dressed in a motley collection of mismatching pieces of armour - had been milling about, but now they had stopped to look around, confused. Even at that distance, my new vampiric eyes allowed me to see the reason for this: their nostrils were flaring; they could smell me.

I was committed. It was obvious that taking things slowly would not work: as I shot up the middle of the scattered vampires, still invisible, they began to call out to one another, asking if they could smell something. There were so many of them! I would have to be fast, and try not to be seen.

My invisibility was, of course, disrupted as I pushed through the Dwemer doors into the underground ruin, but I was keeping the spell at the front of my mind, so I could disappear from sight again immediately. Fortunately, I was not seen in that instant.

It was very dark inside Druscashti, but in contrast to the near silence of Ashmelech, the Dwemer ruin was very loud. It was crawling with foreign-smelling vampires, most of whom were shouting to be heard over one another, and over the constant hammering creaks, rumbles, and groans of the ancient metal structure. Strange as it might sound, the crowd of vampires was actually a help to me: coupled with the noise of the settling ruin, their loud voices served to cover my footsteps as I crept quickly from one chamber to the next. Such a number of Quarra vampires also put off quite a powerful smell, and I had hopes that my own scent would be lost beneath theirs.

Ashmelech had its dark vampires, who moved almost faster than the eye could catch, but Druscashti was home to what had to be the strongest creatures I have ever seen. These massive vampires, hidden beneath heavy, blood red armour and masks depicting snarling faces, seemed to account for half of the noise in those halls themselves. The protesting metal flooring let out a shriek or shuddering groan with every step they took. I did not want to be found by one of them.

Dhaunayne had described Kjeld to me: a Nord with icy blue - nearly white - eyes and broad, planar features. I found him (he was actually the only Nord I saw there), along with a Dunmer vampire wearing a robe, in what was evidently a small and cluttered armoury. There was only one door to the room, which I pulled shut behind me; and locked magically - the inner workings of the lock clicking into place at a jolt of Alteration magic.

Of course by this time, Kjeld and the Dunmer vampire had seen me. Kjeld roared "Aundae - here!" (his voice was near deafening), and both turned to catch up weapons from a rack on the wall. However when they turned back to me, I had vanished again.

The Dunmer gasped as I sent my 'Sleep' spell into his back with a touch, and spun to meet me - but I was again invisible, and had danced away before his wildly swinging blade could connect. It took a moment for the spell to take effect, during which time I could hear fists and weapons hammering on the door to the armoury. I had gambled on the Quarra clan's apparent scorn of magic (something else Dhaunayne had told me of), and sure enough, judging by the livid shouts coming from the other side of the door, none of the vampires there could get past my magic wards.

When the Dunmer began to sway on his feet, I reappeared next to him and, snaking my head around to his neck, tore his throat out with my fangs. I was not sure whether such a wound would destroy a vampire outright, but it certainly incapacitated him. Staggering away, clutching at his throat, the Dunmer collapsed in a spreading pool of blood.

That just left Kjeld, and he was tougher. The massive, blue-eyed Nord came at me with a cruelly spiked mace, and shrugged off the Sleep spell I threw in his face. I had to cut him down, and it was probably the first true test of my new Daedric katana. My superior speed, and the quick attacks the finely-balanced katana afforded me, are what won me that fight, I think. That Kjeld was only wearing fur armour certainly helped.

After I had beheaded the centuries-old vampire and he had turned to dust, I had a quick look around the armoury, conscious of the repeated -crash-, -crash- against the door. It sounded like one of those massive vampires I had passed in the corridor had taken to throwing his weight against it. But I was curious about the intriguing armour I had seen the vampires of Druscashti wearing. It was like nothing I had encountered before.

Soon I had gathered two different suits of finely-crafted armour into a large strongbox, along with a pair of very rare Daedric greaves. With the strongbox tucked under one arm (while I could not compete with those massive, red-armoured vampires in Druscashti, the magicka leak and my vampiric blood meant that I was still very, very strong), I thrust a finger through the Wolfen ring and teleported home.

I never discovered what happened to that Dunmer vampire I left gurgling feebly on the floor, but I was soon to learn enough about the nature of vampires to know that if the other Quarra vampires failed to get that door open, he was doomed to a slow and agonising slide into nothingness.