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Unbound Familiar

An avid gamer nerd's dreams come true in another brutal yet lucky? fashion. Follow him as he does his best not to die in laughably humiliating ways, all while trying to escape his abrupt and unwanted servitude. Will his knowledge of the world he finds himself help him succeed? Will he return home? Will evolve past his title of 'Dog'? Read and find out! This will be another multiversal world-hopping story, similar to my other one, EBW. I'll not spoil the surprise of the first world, but Skyrim will eventually be involved... And no, I'll not be adhering to plot, instead destroying it and hopefully not butchering the original story in the process. Feel free to join my Discord : https://discord.gg/EJxRKkwtDm Also, if you enjoy my stories, want to read ahead, and or support me. Take a look at my Patreon : https://www.p.atreon.com/Nagross Also, I've 'borrowed' the picture from : greenmapple17, on Deviant Art.

Niggross · Video Games
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713 Chs

Clash of Fangs and Tusks

Once Uzgarul was finished with the Forsworn, he arrogantly strides over to the locked Markarth gates which'd been shut once Arean had started his massacre. This was both to stop him from leaving while they waited for assistance and also to prevent the likely Forsworn invasion.

Unfortunately for them all, the large, heavy Dwemer gates were standing between Uzgarul and his quarry...

The orc gives the metal gate a few taps with Volendrung to test its durability before gaining some distance in preparation for a charge. "THE WEAK WILL FALL TO MY MIGHT LIKE THE GATES OF YOUR PATHETIC CITY!" the orc roars as he sprints forwards, Volendrung glowing intensely as he furiously slams it into the gate.

*CRAAAAAASH!*

*CREEEEEEEAAA!*

One Markarth gate instantly explodes from its hinges, flying into a building behind it and easily collapsing it. The other gate shrieked as its metal bent and warped, leaving it a blown-in mangled mess.

"Hahahahaha! NOTHING CAN STAND BEFORE ME!" he shouts, raising Volendrung over his head as the Champion of Molag Bal rushes over to see what'd happened.

The vampire is surprised by the ruins of his gate, and this is even more pronounced when he lays eyes on the single figure that was seemingly responsible for it. He shakes his head and bears his fangs, "FOUL WRETCH! YOU DARE LAY A HAND ON MY NEW CITY!?"

Uzgarul returns a malicious grin, anxious to get to killing. "You're new city!? My new city! I'LL MOUNT YOUR SKULL ON THE WALL, AND SLAUGHTER ANY ABOMINATIONS YOU HAVE SIRED!"

Arean raises the Mace of Molag Bal in challenge, "I dare you to try! You will only be met by a long, agonizing death!"

"Big words for a fanged leper! COME! FACE ME!" Uzgarul shouts while preparing Volendrung.

With that, Arean charge forwards, his form blurring at the speeds he was able to exert without the tyrannical sun bearing down on him. He sprints around the orc with incredible speed while searching for a vulnerability in his opponent's defence.

"PATHETIC! If you are too afraid to hit me, THEN I WILL START!" Uzgarul exclaims before quickly darting forwards and swinging Volendrung at where Arean would next be judging by his movement pattern.

The vampire is surprised by the orc's predictive ability, but is able to dive under the heavy swing of Volendrung, all while managing to graze him with one of the spikes on the Mace of Molag Bal.

*Shlik!*

A line opens up through Uzgarul's heavy armour causing a trickle of blood to flow out. While the armour was impressive and made for war, not much could resist the power of a Daedric Artifact. Even the weaker ones could trump the greatest works created by mortals...

Uzgarul is uncaring for his wound however, simply laughing as the Mace sucks up and grants some of his vitality to Arean.

"IS THAT ALL? EVEN WITH THE POWER OF MOLAG BAL!?"

Arean scowls, "Speak of my Lord's name again and I'll send your soul to him as tribute!"

"Hmph! All your Lord is good for is ruling over the unworthy! WHAT CHALLENGE IS THERE TO HARMING WEAK WOMEN AND CHILDREN!?... Is that why you are afraid of me, vampire? Because I can fight back!?"

"YOU KNOW NOTHING, A FOLLOWER OF A FORGOTTEN GOD SHOULD KNOW HIS PLACE!" Arean bellows as he goes in for another attack, only to find that he'd been goaded into it by the orc as Volendrung screams towards his face.

Arean is only able to turn to mist in response, but even that leaves much to be desired in the face of Volendrung.

*CRACKOW!*

A shockwave ripples through the air as Volendrung collides with the mist that was once Arean's body. While he wasn't solid any longer, that didn't mean Volendrung was helpless against him.

The mist is separated in many directions while a muffled and distorted scream rings out along in the air. Uzgarul doesn't immediately follow up however, instead, waiting for Arean to reform. He desired a proper battle, which was a lot to hope for considering the weakness of his foe.

The mist comprising Arean collects and reforms next to a building, his body bruised all over with almost every limb completely shattered. Were it not for him gorging on blood for hours, he wouldn't be able to easily recover from this damage...

*Cliiick!*

*CRAACK*

Arean's bones set themselves and quickly heal, soon allowing him to stand against, though, the Mace of Molag Bal felt incredibly heavy in his grasp, as if his Lord was watching him with a heavy scathing glare.

He looks up at Uzgarul who'd not moved after the attack and thrusts his hand forwards, casting Vampiric Drain. Clearly, he was no match against the orc in a straight-up battle, even if his vampiric blood made him stronger and faster... Volendrung was simply too big of an obstacle to overcome, even with his Lord's mace.

"What is this...?" Uzgarul growls, waving a hand through the crimson mist that was being drained from him. "Now you resort to magic? You insult me." he states as he sprints towards Arean.

*CRAAASH!*

Arean barely avoids the downward smash of the orc's war hammer, the impact launching him further down the road and rendering all his attempts at regaining his vitality for nought. "Fine! You wish to see the power of my Lord!? HERE IT IS!" he exclaims while beginning his transformation into a Vampire Lord, a special technique belonging only to the most pure-blooded vampires.

Red lines cover his body until...

*SPLLAACSH!*

His skin explodes from him with a bloody explosion, allowing his form to grow into a 9ft pale-skinned abomination. His claws were now stupidly long, his face an ugly family of a human's, and his modest only obscured by an ornamental silk loincloth.

Arean's feet leave the ground as he floats off of the floor, the Mace of Molag Bal glowing with an intense crimson light. "FEEEL MY POWWWEER!" he roars while drawing in the euphoric feeling of overpowering strength.

Uzgarul sniffs derisively, "Hmph, is that all?"

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