[img]http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/8/85/Whiterun_Interior.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20131112044629[/img]

[color=aba000]"The age of Dragons, comes to end,
The Dragonborn faced ol' Alduin,
The Civil war pauses in repose,
Ands woes of Skyrim, come to close.
But wait, what rumble is heard?
Atop The Throat of the World,
Wolf howl moon, Bat wings flutter,
Blood tides turn the blood broth-"[/color]

The Nightwatchman stopped his song as the group of travelers approached the gate. The sun was low, casting the long shadow of the walls of Whiterun upon them. While it was strange to have strangers approach, especially in these large numbers unannounced, it was not unusual for Whiterun to see a variety of visitors. The city was in the middle of Skyrim, neither too far north in the bracing cold, nor the deep forests of the south, nor high mountains of the west, nor the thieves of the east. It was a central place for all trade between holds crossing the land, and an important strategic location for the Empire and the Stormcloaks. But these guests, from what he could see beneath his standard issue full-face helmet, these were neither the bureaucratic Imperialists, nor the rebellious Stormcloaks. In fact, they looked more like the Dark Brotherhood, a murderous lot, dressed in their black hoods and leather cloaks. About a dozen and half of them, shady figures, especially in the hours of the coming dusk.

[color=00a651]"Open the gates."[/color] One of them stepped forward, probably the leader amongst these pale-skinned people. He looked like a warrior of some sort, a heavy warhammer clung at her side, and by the looks of things, they were not here to trade. Mercenaries or bandits, armed with picks, clubs, maces, swords and axes, a small raiding party presented before the Nightwatchman. It was a grey-skinned orc, tusks jutting out of her mouth matched with an equally gruesome nose as she snorted out her command. She definitely looked ugly, but the guard steeled his nerves and refused her as he remarked of her appearance as he and his fellow guard came to the defense of the gate. Should they sound they the alarms for the city and these visitors, whoever they are, would face the full force of the city guard. [color=00a651]"I will not ask again, Open the gates or I will pry the keys out of your cold lifeless ha-"
[/color]

A twin flash of green light cut her threat off. 

[color=bc8dbf]"Open the Gates, Please. You really should try and be more polite Borba."[/color] A voice followed the appearance of a pale man dressed in robes of a mage as black as night. Appearing from nowhere behind the guards, a gloved hand on each man's shoulder with an iron collar clung around his neck as the soft lights of his magicks glowed like the flutter of torchbugs in the darkening sky. A smile crept its way across his face, as those gold eyes stared at the group before him and the guards reached for their gate keys to unlock the city gates. Such was the power of the illusionist, who had slipped past the lines under the guise of invisibility and entranced the wills of the suspicious guards with a simple beguiling spell.

[color=00a651]"Lucan, I knew I smelled your stench. Now get out of my way, you know they put me charge for this attack."[/color] The orc grunted out her reply. Her anger was evident as her nostrils flared up and her hand clutched the grip of her warhammer as the guards began to turn their keys. [color=00a651]"This is my moment of glory, I'm not about to let some foppy mage steal it from me. Now get out or I'll be more than glad to bash that pretty face of yours in."[/color] She spat, her vampire fangs revealed as she snarled at Lucan. A rather barbaric vampire, a few decade younger than Lucan, though he himself was a rather young vampire compared to the Court Lords. That being said the only way up the ladder in this twisted society was to play the politics well. One fellow vampire's failure meant...

[color=bc8dbf]"It's called a bath Borba. Something I'm sure you orcs find more terrifying than my most potent fear-inducing hallucinations. Besides, I find the subtle smell of Deathbell and Nightshade to be ever so satisfying to wash the blood off one's body after a meal."[/color] With an unnerving lick of his lips, the orc shuddered a bit. She knew of his feeding habits, a fellow vampire but not one who she would ever like to associate with. After seeing him dine upon some poor unfortunate soul who was spread upon the table, taking his time with each sip and slice off the living and entranced wood elf. Those words he whispered into his prey's long elven ears, something about the Green Pact and the elf would understand. Not something she would ever like to witness twice. Never accept a dinner invitation from a former member of Namira's Coven. The older vampire snapped his fingers and the gates opened. [color=bc8dbf]"Welcome to Whiterun."[/color]

[color=00a651]"Just stay out of my way."[/color] Borba the vampire orc, a rarity indeed, shoved the theatrical man aside as she walked past him with her small raiding force. It was planned to be a master stroke, to assault the city at dusk, to maximize the terror and discord of a vampire attack, wiping out the city guards and the companions under the cover of nightfall. But it was as if Lucan knew something Borba did not, or at least something the elders at the court knew that the sly mage withheld from Borba. A manipulator, a scoundrel, and all-in-all a devilish-rake, beneath that faked charming smile was something devious. What seemed like harmless fun would turn into a grave situation, Lucan was the wild card, despite the collar he wore around his neck, he seemed to be the one tugging at the chains of others. A man to be feared beyond the fear created by his spells.

[color=bc8dbf]"But of course, I'm just here to watch."[/color] Lucan brushed his shoulders off as he picked himself off the ground. Running his fingers through his hair as an act of vanity and habit, the whispered incantation casted the veil upon the man once more. And there, Lucan was no more, his form disappearing with a wide smile of a vanishing Cheshire cat. Unseen as he slipped into the city and climbed the rooftop of the Bannered Mare Inn, to watch as the first of the city guards fall under the assault of the Vampire Raiders. The first scream of the night, an agonized guggling cry as metal met chest and fangs met neck. What a perfect spot to view the struggle between Vampire and Werewolf.