Dereno spoke next, holding his daedric blade in one hand. It chattered and giggled at the prospect of more violence in this bloodstained night.
Yes, the woman was probably right. It was time to leave - but first, answers. It was no secret the breton woman was a vampire herself; she was pale even for her race and her canines were long and dagger-sharp.

"You may not be of their ilk, lady." Dereno said, gesturing to the charred and dismembered vampires around them, "But you have their curse all the same. The children of Molag Bal are fractious, warlike creatures, prone to squabbling."

He looked at the woman, sizing her up. "And while you have helped us, that doesn't mean your intentions for us are pure. Prophecy called us here, but to follow prophecy blindly is to be damned."

He gestured to Gran, Hakon, Uriel, and the others. "Although we all wish to survive the night, I speak for everyone when I say we have no wish to be caught in a succession squabble between vampiric scions, no?"

"Who are you." He said bluntly, "And why should we trust our lives to you?"