Eight Of Heroes *Skyrim*

Chapter 8: The Masque of Clavicus Vile

"Ever the vain one, Clavicus Vile made a masque suited to his own personality. The bearer of the masque is more likely to get a positive response from the people of Tamriel. The higher his personality, the larger the bonus." - Tamrielic Artifacts

Haemar's Shame was found just off the main road from Helgen, embedded into the wintry mountain and proving a sore sight with the gruesome splatters of blood surfacing the snowy entrance. Leonde gave an uneasy look towards Bria who squeaked in shock at the sight.

Grubbs stood over her, "I'll look after you," he told her gently, one of his massive green hands finding its way onto her tiny shoulder.

"Should we really be bringing her along with us?" Manvos questioned impatiently, "the girl can barely withstand this cold without toppling over - how on Earth does this Daedric Prince expect us to drag her half-way across Skyrim? Same goes for the cat over there, I doubt he's come to our land with much of an attitude towards blood lust either."

Leonde sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "I hate to admit this but he's right. Bria, as soon as we get the chance, we'll take you back to Riften and your parents-"

"-if they're alive," Manvos snorted, "I'm sure that buffoon over there and his bandit goons took care of that one. I wouldn't be surprised if the girl returns home to find the house nothing but a pile of dust and ash."

"Watch it elf," Grubbs grunted, stepping forward before Sinnir gave a feeble attempt of holding the much larger Orc back.

"Are you lot seriously going to start arguing before we've even made it into the damn cave?" Barbas' voice suddenly rang out, stopping Manvos' sharp tongue from spewing out the next thing he had to say.

Unfortunately, inside Haemar's Shame was no warmer. Snow coated the floor and the frozen walls were sleek with ice. Noises echoed around them as the nine bodies move their way through the narrow strips of tunnels. Galtrin took the lead, equipping his bow ready for an attack around the corner. But nothing came. Instead, they were met by a grizzly sight.

"Excuse the mess, the last guy that came to visit my master had a disagreement with the followers," Barbas explained as the foul stench of rotting flesh hit their faces. "They had been vampires for a while, but kept on nagging my master to set them free from their 'curse'. So Vile ordered the man to kill them all in exchange for some goodies."

Grubbs moved to cover Bria's eyes from the sight but she had already seen enough, a gasp escaping from her trembling lips. Manvos shook his head, approaching the heap.

"They look as though they've been dead for more than a few weeks," he commented, turning to look at the dog. "Why has it taken you so long to put things together?"

Barbas looked up at Manvos, tilting his shaggy head, "my master shall explain everything to you once we reach his shrine. Things have been going bad for quite some time. This didn't just start with some bandit raid."

They moved from room to room as they travelled through the cave. Some parts would be widely hollowed out with man made wooden structures set up to create living quarters off grounds. Various evidence of vampire activity lay scattered amongst the morbid display of gore. These would include repulsive bags of bloodied bones and wooden dishes full of a strange purple coloured ash that Manvos announced as 'Vampire Dust'. The dead were discarded across different sections of the cave, each one showing a clear declaration of foul play. Some would be lying on the dirty ground in the midst of decomposition, limbs were skilfully hacked off and heads caved in. Scorch marks were scarring some areas of the walls and empty potion bottles lay idle on the stony ground. Some unfortunate members of the dead were even pinned to the cold walls with their own weapons, dangling in their frozen forms like rag dolls.