Gallus stared at the entrance to an old Dwarven hold dated back to the days of the Under Empires. It's gaping maw descended into darkness. As Kirza told him, this was where her master made their lair. If Gallus or his target were a dwarf, this would be an amusing turn of events. Well, it would if his blood wasn't boiling at the moment.

He left Kirza with Nargo, letting the latter know to let the former go two hours after he had left. So far, an hour passed. He needed time to write in his journal and summon the nightingale from before. Speaking of each, he pulled the bird out of his pocket and showed the entrance to them.

"With what I've found, does the clan find this acceptable?" He was tempted to strangle this bird if it turned out it wasn't.

"Indeed, it is, young Dhampir." The nightingale cawed as it turned to look at him. "You have earned the aid you require."

The bird opened its maw and tendrils of shadows crawled out. These tendrils laid a vial of some black liquid in his hand and the hilt of a sword before returning to the void in the bird's mouth.

"May Ris Von Carn bless your hunt." The nightingale said before disappearing in a puff of black smoke.

Gallus waved the smoke away before he gazed at the vial. If he was lucky, this would give him the opening he needed. If not... hopefully his afterlife was a pleasant one. With grim determination, he uncorked the vial and downed the liquid. He coughed violently at first and growled. He gripped his mouth tight, resisting the burning urge to reject the substance.

He had tears on the corner of his eyes by the time the urge faded and took deep breaths. Wiping his eyes, Gallus looked to the sword hilt. When he was a child, they told him stories about blades such as these. They called them Lightbringers and one wielded these blades to chase away the darkness. He had wielded this so many times for his people. And now he will do so for the people of Veru.

Gallus strapped the hilt to his waist. He lit a torch and held it in front as he went into the entrance, ready to meet whatever fate awaited him.

While the entrance was nothing to write home about, the cavern leading further in had grand designs. Ancient Vazidiri script lined the walls. It no doubt told ancient tales of the ones who reigned in this hold long ago. If he were here for any other reason, it would've been a marvel to be able to study these. But that notion was dashed once he noticed claw marks on the wall.

He ran his fingers across one of the marks and made note of how deep the marks were. As he learned back home, the deeper a creature's mark in stone was, the stronger they were. There were no signs of repeated cuts, meaning this had to be in one swing. And judging by the fact the marks were fingertip deep, the vampire has gotten stronger in its time hunting the populace here.

Humming at that information, Gallus continued his descent, making note of the frequency of claw marks. They were on the walls on either side of him and even on the ceiling and the stairs below. No doubt some of them were from the more feral days as vampires such as this one often experienced. If it was feral when he found it, it might be an easier beast to destroy.

That idea was interrupted when he caught that familiar metallic scent. And it was stronger than the one Kirza radiated when he first found her. Gallus grabbed his spear from off his back and gripped it tight. He ignored the singing of blood as he made his way further down.

The staircase reached the final level and opened into a corridor that was carved into a tiled hallway. Gallus pursed his lips before picking a rock off the ground and throwing it as hard as he could. It made an audible crack as it hit and danced across the floor. It slid to a halt somewhere in the darkness and silence reigned once more.

Taking that as a sign, he marched forward, eyes still scanning for any sign of a trap. He came across the rock again and kicked it down the hallway with still nothing happening. This cycle repeated until he reached the exit and reached the source of the smell. And the horror that he expected.

This area, long ago, was the entrance hall to the people who held this great hold. Now, it might as well have been a butcher's workshop. Countless corpses were scattered about, some impaled on stalagmites while others were hanging from rudimentary meat hooks, fashioned from bent metal and what no doubt used to be ancient weapons

The great door to the hold was covered by rock and the ground before it, leading up to Gallus was covered with blood with large pits on either side of the walkway filled with corpses. People of varying races and ages in pristine condition and still oozing blood that was soon to drown them.

Gallus grit his teeth and shook, seething at the sight of all these innocent people. And seething at his mouth watering from the blood that flowed around him. He searched for his quarry, eyes darting towards the sound of movement. The sound echoed around him before finally, a presence landed in front of the sealed door.

A pale gold figure, dressed in regal robes stained by blood and dirt and torn from disrepair. A figure with glowing blue eyes that shined under their amber hair and looked at him hungrily. His purpose for being here. His quarry.

"A Lonavi Lord laid low," he called out.

"And a dhampir sent to die." The vampire retorted in kind. "You should learn to speak to your betters with proper manners, young one. Especially if you plan to live through this encounter."

Gallus glanced at the corpses on either side of them and back at his target.

"Hungry? I can sense that you haven't had a drop in some time. Those foolish lords back home forbidding you from doing so due to some grudge I imagine?" Silence. "It matters little. If you bend the knee to me, I will allow you to partake of this blood and become the first dhampir to serve under me."

He didn't respond, instead readying himself for battle. The vampire laughed and gave a murderous glare with claws at the ready.

"No? Then maybe you'll be lucky enough to rise as the spawn of Izark Von Dane!"

Izark charged at Gallus who used the spear to keep them at bay. However, Von Dane's powerful strikes broke through his defense and forced the dhampir to dodge the incoming strike. Seeing an opening, he struck the undead's side only to be met with a kick to the side of his head. He was sent flying across the room.

He skid to a halt, covered in blood as he looked up to find his quarry gone. When a shadow covered him, he rolled out the way. The vampire's forearm sank into the stone below, giving a grizzly sight of what would've happened to Gallus had he not moved.

With blinding speed, they tore their arm out of the floor and dragged their claws across the ground. Sharp rock pelted his mask, obscuring his vision long enough for a fist to be embedded in his abdomen. Gallus gasped and was lifted off the ground. Izark roared as they punched him in the face, shattering his mask and sending the dhampir flying into the wall.

Stone cracked from the force of his impact and Gallus was left with blurry vision for a few moments. He shook his head and pulled himself out the wall, readying himself for another bout.

Izark strode forward but froze when he saw Gallus's face, only to erupt into laughter.

"That burned face! That spear! I recognize you now, young dhampir: Gallus the Punished!"

Gallus let out a cry of rage at his title and rushed forward. His stabs were blocked or dodged with ease. His next attack went wide, giving an opening for his opponent. He narrowly dodged a claw to his side before he pulled his left hand back and punched the vampire in the face. His hand throbbed from the hit and the vampire barely reacted but it gave him a chance.

Gripping the upper half of his spear with his right hand, he stabbed the vampire's side and activated the runes on his weapon, sending a current of electricity into them. Izark let out an echoing wail before clawing Gallus's face and kicking him away.

"You fight hard, little one," Izark gasped as he tore the spear out his side and threw it away. "You fight hard for a people who would shun the gifts I have accepted and punish you for a failure that was not your fault."

The dhampir rose slowly, wiping the blood away from his face. He tried with all his might to avoid tasting it, glaring at his enemy who slowly healed.

"I ask again, Gallus. Leave the Caerin Clan. Join me. And I will give you vengeance against those who wronged you."

"I care little for vengeance by bending to another. If I seek it, I will take it through my own hands. And to do that, I need to burn your cold, dead heart."

Izark sighed. "Then you will die and be reborn to think like young Kirza."

They rushed forward and turned into mist when Gallus tried to punch them. The silver mist swirled behind him and turned back into his target who sank their fangs into his neck. The young dhampir winced in pain as his arms were grabbed and he felt his bones cracking under the pressure. Darkness clouded his vision as his blood was drained. Unconsciousness almost took him and what surely would've been death. Just as the Caerin wanted.

But Izark lurched back, coughing hard and letting Gallus fall to his knees on the ground. The dhampir looked back and watched as the vampire's veins turned black and they coughed up this black ichor.

"What... what have you?"

"You should be more careful who you drink from." Gallus slurred as he rose to his feet unsteady.

His hands were shaking as he grabbed the hilt tied to his waist. Speaking the ancient words of his people, holy runes shined on the hilt and a blade of fiery light sprung from it. Despite the light-headedness, Gallus felt some smug satisfaction at the fear in Izark's eyes when they saw the weapon. Izark tried to run towards the nearest pool of blood and Gallus chopped one of their legs off at the thigh.

This vampire, dead though they may be, cried out in pain and tried to lick up the source of their power. And Gallus didn't relent, dismembering them limb by limb. Some cruel satisfaction that he could do this to one of these arrogant immortals that looked down on him. To lay low those lords on high that used Kirza, Nargo, and himself. He turned Izark over onto their back and put his foot on their chest, glaring down at them.

"Any last words, Von Dane?"

It was always the same. The screaming about how they will never truly die. How one day the undead god, Ulris Von Blid, would resurrect them and let them bring wrath and ruin to the world. How Gallus would be tortured and drained for a thousand years until he begged for death. Rolling his eyes, he drove the Lightbringer into their chest and stared into their eyes as they widened in silent horror.

And then came the mighty scream and blinding flash of light as they were burned inside out. Eyes burning into hollow sockets. Hair and skin turning to ash. And naught left but a burnt, dismembered skeleton. A fitting end to one who tried to cheat death.

Gallus pulled the blade out the ground and looked toward the ceiling, taking a deep breath. He took a step back but his exhaustion became too much. He fell on his back and the blade deactivated. There were footsteps coming from the entrance but he couldn't move his head. 

Two figures entered his view and from smell, he knew they were Kirza and Nargo. His vision was too blurry to see what they did but he could still hear. He heard the snapping of bones and slurping from where Von Dane's dismembered body was. A sign that she could be free.

Someone brought a hand to his lip. He smelled the blood on their hand and turned away, moaning his disagreement to whatever they were doing. Even with the completion of his task, his punishment was not yet over. He could feel it in the air, the magic of a scrying spell. They watched him even as he lay close to death, hoping he would die.

Summoning the last of his strength, Gallus's fingertips drew a sigil in the blood. He felt the heat from it and heard the boom of what he hoped was a portal opening. Without his sight, he could never know for sure.

Footsteps approached and voices came with them. They were muffled and so distant but neared ever closer. He felt a hand on his chest and muttered one word before he finally let dreamless sleep take him: "Home." The place where he would right the wrongs done to him.