This is the very first, potential, chapter of my Justice League/Elder Scrolls crossover. I've asked my followers/fans/readers about how this should begin, as that has been the most challenging part of this process.

Now there are six potential options on my account page, and I've eliminated three of them.

This potentiality will be the Volkihar vampires create a portal to Metropolis, in their attempt to escape the Dawnguard's raids, and the Dragonborn follows them through…

The other potentialities, which I won't write a chapter of unless this one gets bad reviews, or they are requested, are an Ancient Dragon going through a special shout that no joor (mortal) can survive going through twice, leaving the Dragonborn trapped in the DC universe with only Odahviing as his link to his past life, (Odahviing, due to him being a favorite character of mine, is going to be in any variation anyway).

The other is the Volkihar vampires ending up in Themyscira, which I think will make a good story arch, and I don't think that Themyscira would be a good first place for the Dragonborn to start out in. And like I said, vampires in paradise would be an excellent story arch to throw in later on, maybe when it's just the Dragonborn and Wonder Women around.

Another issue I'd like to throw in, and will probably be a poll on my profile page, is what should his love interest, if any, be? Give me your suggestions, literally any female hero will do, even villains, I guess I really don't care, I'm having a hard time choosing myself, but this won't be a harem fic, so don't ask, I won't do it.

A horse thundered down a narrow path deep in the snow filled forests of the Pale, one of the northernmost holds in Skyrim. The midnight stallion wasn't built for speed, with thick, muscular legs, round, stout body, and broad hooves that were meant to keep their footing on perilous slopes rather than rapid strides over flat planes.

Even so, the black warhorse kept a pace that satisfied his rider. The man in question was large, even for a Nord. He stood a full six foot, six inches without his armor, and cut an even more imposing silhouette in his armor. Broad shoulders, pale skin, strong muscular arms that bulged and flexed with every movement made the rider a perfect example of Nord strength, and drew attention to the various scars that were visible.

Even in the bitter cold, the man wore armor that left a significant portion of the skin on his arms exposed. Not that it bothered him, three years in Skyrim and even a Redguard, natives to the hostile Al'akir desert, will acquire a resistance to such extreme cold.

At first glance, most would assume that the man's armor is iron armor painted black, but upon closer inspection one would see that any light reflected from the metal, reflected a deep blood red. The downward tilted horns where not the usual cow horn either, but rather solid metal, the same metal that composed the rest of his armor. On the breast plate was a white, slightly raised Imperial insignia, indicating that this man may have once been a legionnaire of the Imperial Army. Bracers of the same midnight metal bore just visible engravings of wolves on the prowl; the meaning of these would be lost on most people.

The plate skirt that split down the middle was, again, of the same black material, covering thick leather straps that adorned the man's legs. On his back was a broad, round shield of the exact onyx metal that adorned the rest of his body.

Just visible over the rim of the shield were three visible clues as to the nature of this man. Two sword hilts were easily visible over the edge of the shield, their style indicative of daedric weapons. If one were to stand close to the sword hilt on the right, they would feel an unnatural, but not uncomfortable heat emanating from the metal. If they were struck with the blade, then the heat would cauterize the flesh, and burn their clothing and skin like tinder. The left hilt, on the other hand, seemed to draw in heat, leaving the air around the blade bitterly cold, and often draining the energy as well as lifeblood from its victims.

In between the two hilts, were the feathers of fifty arrows, each made from the onyx-like metal ebony. It shared a tremendous similarity to the armor adorning the rider, but did not reflect light in the same way, and if fired upon the armor, the arrow heads would simply shatter apart. That is not to say the arrows were weak, in fact they could pierce the most stubborn of stones, but the armor worn by the man was nigh indestructible.

Mounted on the saddle just in front of the dangerous warrior was a bow. Not any ordinary bow, for this was a weapon made from the bones of a god-like creature, a dragon. It sat strung with a flexible, stretchable line of a special variation of ebony. This string was dual purpose, as it was stronger and more durable than twine, and provided better velocity with each arrow fired.

As if this wasn't enough armament, on the right flank of the massive midnight stallion, tucked under the rider's legs, was a massive ebony axe which was engraved with many words of a language composed mostly of letters that looked as though they were made with talons. If you were to ask its wielder what they meant, and get an answer that didn't consist of a golden eyed glare, you would be told a list of three syllable names that belonged to great, and old, dragons that he had slain.

His horse, so eloquently named Beast, came to a thundering halt just outside an old, but far from rundown, fortress that looked as though it could hold hundreds of soldiers, or vampires, the warrior thought to himself.

He kept Beast to the forest as he spied through the skeleton branches of the forest. He could see dozen of men and women patrolling the wall, and the grounds between the walls and the surrounding forest. Thralls, most likely, where are their masters?

In answer to his question the wind brought to him the scent of ash, brimstone, and blood. There you are, only one by the smell of it. Those who don't know his darkest secrets would be astounded by his incredibly astute senses. It seemed his golden eyes could spot a skeever from a mountain top, his nose could sniff out a saber cat stalking around the next corner, and his ears could pick up an eagle's cry from miles away.

Too many to attack right now, better wait for Serana and Isran to get here, the large man thought to himself as he dismounted Beast and led him deeper into the forest. The man spent twenty minutes making camp, just a small one, with no fire so it doesn't attract the vampires. After he had tied up Beast, he left the midnight stallion at the camp, confident that no wolf, bear, or saber cat would be foolish enough to attack the massive, dangerous warhorse, and made his way to the road, leaving a number of discreet markings so that Serana and Isran could find him when they got here.

He had blazed on ahead after their mounts grew weary, as Beast truly lived up to his name in every way. The massive horse could outpace the lesser mounts, and keep that pace up for hours at a time.

As the man arrived at his campsite, he unpacked some horse feed from his saddle bags, and set them in the feeder around Beast's neck, allowing the massive animal to eat and rest for the night.

The large man unrolled some food for himself and cooked it over a magical flame he held in his left hand, and began to think about his journey so far. How had he come so far? From just some orphan in the Imperial City, to Dragonborn, Harbinger of the Companions, Legate of the Imperial Legion, Thane of all holds in the Province of Skyrim, and Champion of Hircine, though the last one was kept to himself.

The most ironic part of his great life's journey, was that it was kicked off with his execution. He had simply been traveling to Skyrim, his land of birth, because he didn't belong back in the land of his rearing. With the revolution in Skyrim getting a lot of bad reactions, anyone and everyone looked down on the stupid barbaric Nord who dared defy the Emperor, as if that wasn't being done by the Aldmeri Dominion.

Unfortunately, he had been crossing the border near where the leader of the rebellion himself was crossing the border back into Skyrim. When he had awoken on that cart, headed into the walled village of Helgen, hm, not even Falkreath has walls, but that little village had them, he had truly believed this was the end. Then again, there wasn't any evidence to say he had a long healthy life ahead of him; he was on a cart, bound and gagged, headed for the headsman.

He hadn't blamed the Legion, he couldn't, not logically anyway. They had no way of knowing who he was, and he was an orphan from birth. If you weren't given a name from your parents that you remembered, then no one gave you a name, and therefore you had no name, not officially. He had never really been interested in a name for himself, if no one cared enough to give him a name when he was a babe, then why should he?

He had been on his knees, watching the headsman's axe begin its descent, when a dragon he would come to know as Alduin, dropped down on the watchtower directly behind him. Ever since then, life had been a whirlwind.

He soon got a crash course on basic swordsmanship, mostly dueling weak draugr deep in the many ruins scattered throughout Skyrim. The slow moving zombies in many, less ancient ruins provided a good target for a young man's rage and energy while he tried to understand what was happening to him.

It had happened quite early on. Hadvar's uncle, Alvor, had requested that the young man go and inform the Jarl of Whiterun of the dragon attack. This had, in turn, led the man through a series of trials involving his first encounter with the draugr, and the learning of his first Word of Power. He had had no idea what was written there, at first, but staring at that wall, looking at one of the words on it, he began to understand the writing, in fact, it called to him in no way anything else had before.

Later, after going with Irileth to investigate the report of a dragon attack on the Western Watchtower, he slew his first dragon. Mirmulnir, the name stayed with him, as did every powerful dragon he slew, and was indeed the first name inscribed upon his battleaxe that was still tied down on Beast.

It was mostly luck that led to the slaying of that first dragon. Mirmulnir had been getting cocky, after decimating three fourths of the company Irileth had brought with her, and began landing on the stone ruins to breathe his deadly fire.

The young man, scared out of his wits, had climbed into the tower for safety, where he stumbled upon the axe that had been with him ever since. Something about the feel of the cool onyx of the ebony battleaxe calmed the Nordic adolescent, and drove him to attack the beast head on. A foolish idea if anyone had ever had one, but it worked, with the dragon sitting upon what used to be an outer battlement of the watchtower, the warrior charged and buried the head of the axe deep in the monster's neck.

That was when he had found out about the whole 'Dragonborn' business. It offered some light, and the Greybeards offered even more, but Paarthurnax had truly shown him the light. Many counseling sessions with the old dov enlightened the young man, teaching him to see the world through a dragon's eyes, through the eyes of those who shared his spirit.

Eight months were made in preparation to kill the monster Alduin, who was the God of Destruction himself. In that time he had met a plethora of characters, Delphine, Esbern, the Companions, General Tullius and Legate Rikke.

Skyrim had to be in the proper condition for the Dragonborn to finally confront his destiny. If he were to fall, then the land would have to be strong enough to deal with the chaos of suddenly leaderless dragons who would strike at anything at anytime for any reason. That meant that the civil war had to be dealt with, the holds must be unified in order to defend themselves from the angry, powerful, god-like beasts.

That left the Dragonborn with a decision, who would he side with? Who would he help in this war? He technically didn't have to get involved, he could have just let the armies of either side crush the other while he just waited, but months of stagnation on both fronts led the warrior to believe that the one side just required a kick in the ass to get them moving, and who better than him?

He chose the Imperial Legion; more out of logic than his hate for the arrogant ass of a Nord Ulfric Stormcloak who made everyone everywhere hate and despise the 'brutish and barbaric' Nords, at least that's what he told himself.

The Legion turned out to be the best decision the young man had ever made. They had an Al'akir instructor who would teach the Legionnaires the sword, who had taken the large Nord aside and began teaching him something different. The man had explained that he saw something in the young, fierce warrior, a spark that could inspire the soldiers around him, and intimidate the soldiers across from him.

So the young man began to learn how to use two swords in tandem, how to strike with such sudden precision without even having to think about it. It became instinct to the large Nord, the dance that others called battle. Even in heavy Imperial steel, he moved with ethereal grace, swinging his short steel blades in a never ending whirlwind that carved through enemy lines, and shattered their resolve.

He had a special helmet to go with his special role. It shared similar aesthetics to the Imperial Officer's helmet, but the crest was stiff black horse hair, and the face was covered in a mask with just two staring, black eyes, with the Imperial Insignia molded in the forehead. The Legionnaires had taken to calling him Centurion, and the rebels had just taken to calling him 'monster'.

The war ended with the Nordic warrior severing Ulfric's head from his neck, leaving him loved by many, and hated by just as many. It seemed no matter what he did, people hated him for it, and it was the one constant in his life. The only place where hate wasn't was in the Hall of the Companions, the only place, other than the Legion, where he almost belonged.

It had been just after he had decimated the Stormcloak rebellion, which had only taken two months after he joined the Legion, the pathetic rabble that Ulfric had brought together was no match for the precision of the Legion. He was walking into Whiterun when a rogue giant had made an attack on a nearby farm. His ebony battleaxe had made short work of the giant, but not before the Companions arrived to 'save the day' as they just stood and watched the young man hamstring the giant, then behead it.

The warrior received an instant invitation to join the Companions, the two Circle members present promising to vouch for him. This was the place where he gained the power of the wolf, the place that granted him the senses of the predator, the form of a beast on the same level as a demigod. At first, the power was wonderful, and with the death of Skjor, the Silver Hand provided a perfect target for the beast's rage.

Eventually, however, the power proved a curse, horses refused to be ridden by a wolf, people regarded him with fear, even though they didn't know what he was, and the father figure to all the Companions, Kodlak, was killed simply because he was a wolf.

Two of the others, Vilkas and Farkas, found the beast a curse simply because they were too different from werewolf within. Aela loved being a werewolf; it provided an outlet for her constant anger and need to prove herself. But the young warrior, he both feared and loved the wolf. He and the beast were one. It wasn't the savage impulses that spoke to him, he was always a well mannered man in public, if a little blunt, nor was it the power that spoke to him. He couldn't really explain it, he felt strong, he never felt afraid anymore, he felt right with the wolf inside of him, and that frightened him. Perhaps it was just that he finally could say he was no longer afraid. Was he just a beast? Even when he was a pure human?

When it came time for those who wished it to remove the curse, the warrior didn't know what he wanted. The power made him feel alive, the senses made the world sweeter and sharper than before, he felt right with the beast inside, he didn't have a reason to be afraid with the beast. Eventually he just threw the witches head in the fire anyway, and nothing happened, at first.

Whereas the others convulsed as the wolf spirit left their souls, the young man simply stood there then suddenly felt… clean. He thought at first that the wolf was gone from him; that he was forever stripped of the beast inside, but then something strange happened.

A voice penetrated his mind, spoke with thunderous retort. This voice soon identified itself as Hircine, the Daedric Lord of the Hunt. The voice explained what had happened, that the witches head hadn't stripped him of the beast; that the wolf was too much a part of him to be stripped clean from his soul, but the curse was. That simply led to questions, weren't the beast and the curse one and the same?

Hircine explained that the witches never acted with the true authority of the Daedric Lord himself, that the wolf they had originally given the Companions was a mockery of Hircine's true champions of the Hunt. That was what he was now, a true champion of the Hunt, of Hircine. There weren't many demands that came with the true power he now held inside of him, just hunt, whether it be deer, elk, bandits or vampires, and to confront a man by the name of Sinding, cleanse the ring he wore of its curse, and kill the man. After cleansing the ring of its curse, Hircine transformed the ring into a set of braces, the same ones he wore at this moment.

There were very few equals of this new wolf inside of him, however Hircine had explicitly stated that this power's only true equal were the originals of Molag Bal, the Volkihar vampires. The same vampires he hunted now. Who could have seen that coming? The young man thought with some humor.

A year ago, he had finally managed to slay Alduin, after making a new friend, possibly his only true friend. Odahviing, another dragon, one nearly as old as Paarthurnax, but more inclined to be of a fighting nature. The ruby dragon had taken the Dragonborn to Skuldafen, the hiding place of the cowardly, but powerful, black dragon. His journey took him so far he had actually gone to Sovengarde, the afterlife all Nords aspire to, to do the deed of slaying the God of Destruction.

He had had the help of three of the greatest heroes in history, and together, they managed to bring down the onyx dragon. Alduin was the biggest name inscribed upon the axe that lay across Beast's side, as he was the most powerful dragon he slew, and the oldest. Beast had actually been a gift from Shor's housecarl, Tsun.

For ridding Sovengarde of the dangerous dragon, Shor had decided that the warrior deserved a mount that complimented the large man's strength, and so he was given a giant, midnight colored stallion with the endurance to match any creature, and the strength to carry a mountain if needed. The reason the name 'Beast' was chosen was both obvious, and obscure. Most thought it was in regards to the horse's massive size, but to the Dragonborn, it would always be because this was the only horse that let a werewolf, a beast, ride him.

It wasn't long after that he had found himself signing up with the Dawnguard, a group of vampire hunters that were based out of an old, but magnificent castle southeast of Riften. That was where he first met Isran, one of the people who'd be helping with the elimination of the Volkihar vampire den.

The large Redguard wasn't too excited about letting a werewolf join, but Isran knew who he was, and knew that the Dragonborn was just about the best hope for the Dawnguard to get rolling again. Not only did it add prestige, to have the most famous man in Skyrim joined up, but the fact that he was unequaled in the skill of the blade allowed for much more decisive victories over vampire covens.

All was well, and the Dragonborn felt… good, killing vampires and it satisfied the wolf inside of him. The Dawnguard was getting truly large, ready to face down nearly any threat, until the Hall of the Vigilant was burned down. That was when they found out about the Volkihar vampires. The Dawnguard had been fighting weak, underpowered versions of this menace.

Finally they managed to find something the Volkihar apparently wanted, really bad. That was how he met Serana, the other person helping him eliminate this coven of vampires. Apparently she had an Elder Scroll that was to be used to block out the sun. The Volkihar, in groups, could use their blood magic to blot out the sun in one area for twelve to fifteen hours, but this would truly kill the sun. Thankfully Serana happened to be on the side of humanity, and helped stop her insane father from pulling it off.

Ever since that day, he, Serana, and the Dawnguard sought to eliminate the Volkihar, almost succeeding. As far as anyone was aware, this was the last coven left in Skyrim. They had holed themselves up in that fortress for the past three weeks, and the only reason the Dawnguard knew that they were in the Pale was the sudden, drastic spike of missing people and bloodless corpses.

It bothered the Dragonborn, why were these vampires being so careless? The missing people is unavoidable, but the bloodless corpses lying in the hills? That was completely avoidable, and a sure fire way to bring the deadliest vampire hunting force breathing down their necks. Sure the fortress had high walls, tough battlements, and strong doors, but the vampires weren't soldiers. They didn't know tactics, they just killed, and were damn good at it. Their thralls weren't much for soldier work either, whenever someone is put under a vampire's compulsion, they lost most of what made them people. Their spark of ingenuity died, as did muscle memory. Most thralls could barely wield a warhammer, much less a blade.

As the man tore into the cooked venison chop, he heard the soft sound of hooves, about a mile away, must be Serana and Isran. Dawn was coming; they'd need the cover of the sun to pin the vampires down inside the keep, letting them dispatch the thralls with ease, leaving the vampires significantly weakened in terms of numbers.

Fifteen minutes after hearing the hooves, he heard the two leading their horses through the forest. The blatant noise they made always surprised the Dragonborn, how could they sneak up on anything? He didn't bother looking up as the walked into his camp, his sharp ears picked up every movement, and he could smell their emotions as if they wore them as perfume. Seeing them, wasn't really necessary.

"Where is the main force?" the young, large Nord asked his companions in a gravelly, deep voice.

"They should be in position, just to the east of that damn castle," Isran's gruff voice came across the fire, a little too loud for the large Nord's liking.

"Keep your voice down, just because the wind is in our favor doesn't mean those in the fortress can't hear you," he admonished the Redguard, something no one else on Nirn could do and get away with. The wind was going to work to the trio's advantage in two ways. The scent of fresh blood from the Dawnguard's three hundred men on the east side will drive the vampires in the keep crazy, making a great many of the lesser willed ones dash out into the sun where they're most vulnerable, and it will drive the scent of the trio away before the vampires can smell them. Well, smell the Dragonborn, whom Serana complains about often.

"Thank the gods it is in our favor, you smell like wet dog," she muttered, knowing full well the Nord could hear every word, just like he could hear the wolves taking down an elk a half mile away. But, as usual, he made no indication he heard anything she said, in fact, he rarely showed emotion when he felt it the most. The more passionate he gets, the more logical he becomes, the calmer he is, something that boggled most people who knew him.

"Dawn will be here in a few hours, that's when we move, Serana, you sure you want in on this? You'll be just as exposed as the other vampires," he said quietly, though his deep voice seemed to reverberate throughout the campsite.

"I'm sure, it's not like there will be any vampire's of my strength out on the grounds, Vampire Lords are not stupid enough to rush out into an oncoming army just because they're a little hungry," she scoffed at her companion's concern.

The man knew she found him interesting, romantically so, but he had no interest of his own, not since… no, don't think about it. His apparent disinterest was rather insulting to the gorgeous vampire princess, and she had always gotten whomever she wanted, but this man, he didn't even show a slight shimmer of appreciation for her beauty. She knew there was some dark, deep secret behind why he acted this way, but he never shared, he rarely spoke to anyone other than that ruby dragon he consorts with.

A shrill horn sounded through the night, the Dawnguard's forces have engaged the vampires, meaning that it was time for the trio to get to work.

The Nord quickly untied Beast and leapt atop the massive horse, while the other two got on their horses and quickly fell in behind him as he started Beast galloping towards the iron band gate on the west side of the fortress.

Too late did the thralls patrolling that side of the wall notice the three riders, not that there was anything they could have done against what happened next.

FUS RO DAH!

The thunderous retort was incomprehensible to those ignorant of the Thu'um, but its meaning was obvious as the iron band gate flew off of its hinges, crushing several thralls and a couple slow moving lowly vampires.

The vampire forces had made a critical tactical flaw, they attacked the army laying siege to their nigh impenetrable fortress, leaving the guard in the courtyard woefully unprepared to stop an infiltration force, especially one as dangerous as the three that had just come barging through the western gate.

The first one to kill anyone just happened to be the Dragonborn's own horse, who speared an idiotic vampire with his helmet piece made by the great Eorlund Grey-Mane himself out of the legendary Skyforge steel.

Soon after it was difficult to tell how many of what who had killed, as the courtyard erupted into chaos as the sun started to peek over the horizon. The Dragonborn had already leapt from his mount, trusting in the Steed of Shor to handle himself, and was steadily carving a path to a pair of thick and sturdy oak doors that lead into the main keep, knowing that whatever was going on with these vampires, it will be taking place where there was plenty of space.

To the average observer, the Nordic warrior would almost be moving too quickly follow. His two blades, Yol and Fo, Fire and Frost, spun with the grace of a dragon in flight, twisting to avoid pathetic blocks with heavy, clumsy weapons, leaving a fine trail of blood as they sped towards their next target. Even the much stronger vampires had a difficult time keeping up with the master swordsman. Every attack they launched at him wouldn't be met head on as any other blade wielder would do, but instead turned aside with a hard slap of his blade. The Dragonborn was well aware that the vampires would overpower him if he started blocking their attacks, so he instead diverted them, and twisted his blade back to sink deep into the cold, dead flesh of the vampire in question.

In a matter of five minutes he had carved through a dozen of the monsters, and even more of their thralls, but they were weak, diluted vampires, nothing compared to the true monsters deep within the castle's keep. Even with the knowledge of what awaited him, the young warrior let out a shrill whistle, and Beast burst through a crowd of thralls that had been trying to take down the massive, magical horse and broke in a run towards his master.

The Dragonborn pointed to the double oak doors, and the horse reared onto its hind legs and kicked the locked doors open. The Dragonborn could have simply shouted this door down as he did the gate, but he needed his Thu'um fresh for this next shout.

The Amulet of Talos quickly warmed against his chest as he breathed in, getting ready to unleash a torrent of divine power, a gift from Akatosh himself.

YOL TOOR SHUL!

The warrior put as much power behind the shout as he could into the dark keep, and was rewarded with several unholy howls as the first wave of vampires roasted alive in their own skin.

Muttering a prayer under his breath to both deities that had granted him this ability, Akatosh the ability to shout, and Talos the ability to do it whenever he wished, without resting his voice between each shout, the warrior let out a fearsome war cry as he charged down into the keep.

He heard the sound of hooves on stone behind him, and he knew that Beast would go with him as far as he could, even all the way back to Sovengarde if need be.

The first group of unholy monsters he came across were easily dispatched with his twirling blades. One had foolishly tried to flee past Beast, and was knocked on his back and had his head caved in with a hoof for his trouble. Even though he had indeed come across a group of vampires, he hadn't encountered enough to explain just how many disappearances and corpses found in the forests of the Pale. As many as there were, the Dragonborn should have at least come across a dozen more of the creatures than he had.

He began to get a small feeling of dread creep up the back of his neck. What were they planning? Could they have found a way to escape, possibly lock us inside this keep while they plundered the holds of Skyrim for blood?

He cut up another three lowly vampires before he encountered a true Volkihar vampire. They were stronger, faster, and smarter than their smaller comrades, and came with a nasty plethora of blood magic to accompany a master's level understanding of the 'normal' magical arts. In the end, it was no match for the Champion of Hircine, who's blades were death, who's beard was red not from his heritage, but from the blood of his innumerable enemies.

If the Dragonborn was concerned before, he was now positively worried. There aren't enough vampires here! the man thought furiously as he cut the head from the shoulders of another Volkihar vampire while simultaneously thrusting his other blade into the heart of another.

They fell to the floor with a thud as the young warrior moved past their corpses and pushed against another thick oak door. This door was a wide, tall door that most likely led to an audience chamber, where the lord of this castle would hold court in the old days. If the warrior had any reasoning skills, of which he had more than a few, that would be where he would guess the Volkihar's plans are taking place.

He quickly mounted Beast, who immediately reared and used all of his divine strength to kick down the strong oak doors, revealing the vampire's plans.

There, in the center of the spacious audience hall was a massive portal, which looked eerily similar to a portal to Oblivion. Are they fleeing back to Molag Bal? A true Volkihar Lord in his monstrous form complete with blue grey skin that was harder than steel, full leather wings, not the tattered and completely ripped wings of its subordinates, but complete bat like wings that could propel the monster into the air, and a crown of solid gold glittering with diamonds that was literally fused to his skull, stood next to the portal, apparently giving a speech before they fled through it. His audience, judging by the smell of it, was composed of all true Volkihar Vampire Lords, royalty, maybe not by title, but by blood power. They were likely turned by the one standing before them, and it appeared that the leader was only taking the most powerful with him.

"GO!" the lead monster roared, "FLEE WHILE YOU CAN, HE CAN'T FOLLOW US!"

"Like Arkay I can't!" the young warrior muttered under his breath as Beast sprang forward, intent on reaching that portal before the vampires can close it. The massive horse and his equally large rider arrived at the portal just after the last Vampire Lord sprinted through. As soon as the duo entered the portal, the rider's world became one of pure, blinding pain, and soon, all went black.

Clark Kent sat at his desk, typing at fifty thousand words per second as he rushed to get his piece on the local killings that have been happening recently. In fact, it was those same killings that had him typing so fast, as his work as Superman constantly called him away from his desk job.

Done, hope he's happy with that, the Man of Steel thought as he sent the writing to his boss via email. The killings were puzzling to both Clark Kent, and Kal El of Krypton. Over the past two weeks, every night there would be about ten to fifteen bloodless corpses. Thanks to his heroic efforts as Superman, there was very little in the way of street crime here in Metropolis, just the occasional super villain taking their shot at the Last Son of Krypton, so these murders were big news, almost bigger than Grundy flipping cars and robbing banks. Plus the fact that Superman had yet to find and stop the killers left the people almost afraid to leave their home at night.

I won't let this city become Gotham, Clark thought grimly as he knew that whoever was committing these heinous acts was almost succeeding in doing just that. But the worst part about these killings, at least to Superman, was that he could never hear anyone cry out for help during the time of the murders. It was almost as if the people were allowing themselves to be killed, without putting up a struggle, or even a whimper. They were drained of their blood in total silence.

"Ugh, will these clouds ever leave Clark?" a feminine voice came from behind him, next to the windows. Lois Lane, quite possibly the love of Clark's life, was staring out of the windows and up at some low hanging, dark storm clouds that have yet to release any rain, for two days. Coincidentally, the number of killings has stepped up dramatically in the past two days, almost as if the perpetual night inspired the killers to do even more than their usual quota.

"I don't know Lois, it doesn't seem like those clouds have even moved an inch," he responded distractedly. He had tried flying in those clouds, the same day as they suddenly moved in, and was immediately hit with a powerful magical field. He couldn't get rid of them, and flying in them or above them was out of the question, and it made him even more nervous.

It was obvious the killings and the clouds were connected, and if the clouds were magical, that would mean that whoever was behind this was a powerful magic user. That spelled bad news for the Man of Steel, as he doesn't do magic.

It was a combination of all these things that he called quite possibly his best friend Bruce Wayne, otherwise known as Batman, to investigate the murders. They needed to find whoever was doing this, and they needed to do it fast, because those clouds only grew darker and the killings only grew more gruesome.

"Smallville, get over here!" the deep, gravelly voice of Batman came to Clark's ears. He was too far away to be heard by anyone but Superman, of course that was the plan. Batman had been investigating the troubling murders for the past few hours, ever since landing in Metropolis as Bruce Wayne, and would 'call' Superman if he had any leads. This sounded like it was coming from the Metropolis docks, near a cluster of warehouses where Superman used to break up drug operations.

The farmboy quickly excused himself from the office, saying something about "getting lunch". Everyone at the office just accepted his excuse, far too distracted with what seemed to be nothing to notice that it was only nine thirty in the morning.

Superman was on the scene in less than twenty seconds, super speed had its benefits, and was witness to a bizarre series of events.

Batman was using his full arsenal to take down three men standing around a pile of bloodless corpses, and the men were laughing at his punches, easily catching his batarangs, and making a mockery of his agility. The only thing seeming to have any effect were the flashbangs, of which the Caped Crusader was already out of.

"Surrender, right now. I don't want to hurt you!" the Man of Steel called out to the trio below him as he lightly touched down right behind Batman who was currently in a defensive stance.

"Nice of you to show up, these are obvious metas, I can't make heads or tails of them, but I don't think they are the only ones," Batman quickly explained as the three pale men in front of him just looked at each other as they tried to figure out if Superman was joking or not.

"Thanks, but I got it from here," Superman said as he walked forward, not expecting too much resistance from the three men. They may have been meta powered, but there were very few who could even match just one of Superman's powers.

"Hands on your head, you're going to ja-OOPH!" Superman couldn't finish his sentence as an arc of magical electricity slammed into the bright red 'S' on his chest. The bolt was strong enough to actually throw him across the cement landscape of the docks, and slam him into a dumpster at the edge of a nearby alley.

"SUPERMAN!" Batman yelled, just before he was assaulted by the other two men, who had pulled out archaic weapons. One held a green, crystal? sword, the other held a black mace that seemed to be embroidered with lines of gold.

The first swung its sword in an overhead arc, which Batman caught with his scallops and tried to break the sword of glass, only to have his wrist armament break off, not even leaving a scratch in the green crystal of the heavy sword.

Bruce quickly shook of his shock as he leaped back just in time to avoid the onyx mace obliterating the cement where he once stood. Batman had known they had super strength, maybe not as much as Superman, or even Bane, but the crater left in the concrete was all the evidence needed to make it official.

Superman crawled out of the dumpster he had just destroyed to see a bright fireball headed his way, Oh come on!

BOOM!

The Man of Steel was flung through the brick wall behind him and landed in a relatively vacant warehouse, this time pulling himself up fast enough to avoid the bolt of lighting that shot past him. Superman called upon all of his speed to rush the pale man throwing incredibly powerful spells at him, and threw up a fist to clobber the man, only to be shocked when the man bent over backwards with unnatural speed to just barely avoid the strike, and used the super heroes momentum against him and tossed Clark back out through the hole in the wall to smack into the other side of the alleyway.

Batman tossed a pair of bolos at the sword wielding man, but they were cut out of midair. He delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to the head of the mace wielding thug, and actually seemed to hurt him, but the man shrugged it off and swung the mace at speeds no man should be capable of.

The two were cornering Batman, that much was obvious, and there was little he could do to defeat them, but his salvation came from an odd source.

"Hey! You three, the Lords are coming through, so stop playing with your food and let's GO!" a man in unusual armor stood on a rooftop, yelling down at the three assaulting the two heroes.

The pale man standing over Superman gave the kryptonian one last sneer before leaping up the fire escape and joining the armored man. The two facing Batman gazed hungrily at the Caped Crusader before joining the two on the rooftop as well. before the two heroes could regain their focus, the four fiends were long gone.

"It's not every day I outperform you Kent, what happened?" Batman asked, concerned. Indeed it was odd for the mere human to fair better against metas, and Bruce was right to be concerned.

"That thing was using powerful magic, but that isn't everything. These clouds, it's blocking out nearly all the sun's rays. Without that radiation, I can't recover fast enough to the sun's rays. Without that radiation, I can't recover fast enough to counterattack before he'd get another spell off."

That worried the other hero.

"Magic, incredible physical strength, speed, and agility, and they've cut you off from your source of power. This is beginning to sound like the plot of someone with a grudge against you."

"It's not just that Bruce, when I was fighting mine, it had no heartbeat, neither did the two you were fighting," the blue clad hero revealed.

"Zombies? Like Grundy, just smarter?" the World's Greatest Detective asked, more than deduced. Magic and the undead fell out of his rather large area of expertise.

Clark just shook his head. He didn't need to explain why he thought that, it was obvious. Zombies never came back with this kind of intelligence, and the agility was far beyond what anything should be capable of.

"Vampires." The kryptonian looked at the human with a confused look on his face, vampires?

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but all the evidence points at vampires."

"Bruce, no one on this planet has ever encountered vampires. Ever."

"Did you see their faces? Not only how pale they were, but the blood dripping down their chins? Face it Kent, no one has encountered vampires before, but we just did."

Superman couldn't argue with him, he was right, just like always. The most disturbing part was that these creatures almost seemed to be designed specifically to take down kryptonians like him and his cousin Kara. Suddenly a disturbing thought occurred to him.

"Bruce, the one on the roof said that the 'Lords were coming.' Do think we just faced a couple of pawns?"

Batman nodded in the affirmative, "Don't worry Smallville, if they're vampires, then we just need a lot of light."

"Well I can't get rid of the clouds, trust me, I've tried. It would take magic just as powerful to get rid of them."

"Then we'll need spotlights, bright ones. Maybe UV lights will have an extra-special effect."

Superman nodded, and the Man of Steel and the Caped Crusader got to work.

The world was blinding pain to a large man atop an equally large horse as they fell through the planes of Oblivion. The steed, divine creature that it is, easily passed through with minimal discomfort, but the its mortal master felt the various Daedric Lords make grabs at his soul, felt the blinding pain as they attempted to rip his soul from his body, to claim it as their own.

His only reprieve came when he finally passed through the Hunting Grounds, where Hircine managed to keep the other Daedra at bay, CHAMPION, I CAN NOT KEEP THEM AWAY FOR LONG, I AM NOT THE MOST POWERFUL DAEDRIC LORD, BUT I CAN SAVE YOUR SOUL.

"what do i need to do…." The Dragonborn managed to get out past the intense pain, making his voice sound weak and pathetic, almost invoking a bout of rage from Hircine at his favorite mortal.

I CAN RELEASE THE MARK I HAVE PUT ON YOUR SOUL. WITHOUT THAT MARK, THE OTHER DAEDRA WILL BE UNABLE TO SENSE YOU. YOU WERE MY FAVORITE, MORTAL. YOU WERE THE BEST HUNTER NIRN HAS SEEN IN THOUSANDS OF GENERATIONS, RELEASING MY CLAIM ON YOUR SOUL IS NO SMALL THING I DO, BUT I WON'T GIVE YOU TO THE OTHERS. YOU CAN KEEP THE WOLF, MORTAL, BUT THIS IS THE LAST YOU WILL EVER HEAR FROM THE DAEDRA. WHERE YOU'RE GOING, WE WON'T BE.

That was the last thing the Dragonborn remembered from his trip, but the pain went away, of that much he was sure.

The next thing he remembered was Beast landing on oddly smooth stone floors, surrounded by Volkihar Vampire Lords, "KILL HIM!"

The warrior flipped up his dragonbone bow, notching an ebony arrow as he did so, firing directly into the heart of a vampire in her more human form. As she fell he spurred Beast onwards, there was no way he could fight all of these monsters at once, and certainly not in this close of space.

As the Dragonborn launched another arrow into through the eye of a monster gliding up on his right flank, he took note of his surroundings. The walls were made of strange corrugated metal that looked like… tin? and he saw his salvation with what appeared to be a different colored section of metal that was physically separated from the rest of the wall, a door if the man had ever seen one in his short time on Nirn.

Beast made scrap out of the tin door, and thundered down the incredibly smooth stone beach that connected with several piers that had the largest steel boats the warrior had ever seen tied up to them. There was no time for a sense of awe however as he heard the screeches of even more of the monsters behind him.

Trusting Beast to bring him somewhere safe, the Dragonborn swung around on his saddle, so that he was facing backwards, and let fly another three arrows, claiming the life of another Volkihar, before his divine steed suddenly turned down an alleyway, leading him away from the scent of vampires, and towards the scent of a human and… something else.

It didn't smell evil, but it did smell of terrible worry, not for himself, but for those he protected, there was a difference in the scent. The human, oddly enough, was harder to determine as his scent seemed to just exude calm with underlying traces of worry.

The young warrior shook his head, he would be upon them soon, and needed to be ready to possibly recruit their help against the vampire menace. He swung around to face forwards on his large and sturdy steed as he continued the quick gallop between the largest buildings, that weren't castles, he'd ever seen.

Superman had been gathering up UV lights from nearby greenhouses using his super speed. While the magical attacks had left him weakened, and without the sun's rays he was hard pressed to regain his strength, he was still the second fastest thing on Earth.

Batman, meanwhile, had been hooking up three portable generators to give the brightest, most powerful, light possible when Clark got back with the UV lights. They had just been putting them together when the Man of Steel suddenly stopped and looked towards a patch of brick apartment housing where the docks started again on the other side.

"What is it Clark?" the Batman asked, looking up at the red and blue hero as he simply gazed through the buildings.

"They're here, but I think something went wrong… Batman we have a situation!"

"What!?"

"The 'Lords' came through a portal, but something came through behind them. A man, a big man on an equally big horse… Good Lord, Batman! He just killed three of them! I think we have an ally!"

Batman didn't quite agree, he killed three people and Clark's happy he's on our side? Granted they were vampires, but they were still people.

"He's on his way here, he'll be here in less than a minute, how'd he know we where here?" Superman kept talking, oblivious to Batman's expression of doubt regarding their newfound ally.

True to Superman's word, Batman soon heard the tell tale sound of hoof beats, that horse must be a beast.

The Dragonborn could just make out the non-humans words over the pounding of Beast's hooves. So the one who smells of duty has already sensed me, I wonder how that is possible. Among all the people the Dragonborn had encountered in his life, he had always had the sharper senses, even more so than Serana, who could only really smell blood.

As he turned down the last alleyway on his way to the duo, they finally entered his field of vision. They were positively the oddest pair the warrior had ever seen in his life. The non-human stood just a few inches shorter than the Dragonborn himself, and was dressed in the oddest blue and red armor the man had ever seen, complete with a scarlet cape and a bright red and yellow S on his chest. The human was dressed in a black cape and black helmet with pointy ears, and grey armor complete with a yellow belt and a black bat on the chest.

The young warrior shook the oddities off, as they were possibly his only hope in stopping the vampires plan, and spoke as he brought Beast to a halt once he cleared the shadows.

Batman and Superman's eyes popped as the warrior rode out of the shadows. Superman had seen the man before, but the magical aura that surrounded him, combined with the distance rendered the details to be a bit fuzzy. Now that he stood so close, he and his human friend could make out every detail of the man.

He was huge, six and a half feet tall at least, with a red beard and golden eyes that glinted in the dim light of the Metropolis Docks. His armor appeared black at first glance, but all light reflected off as a deep blood red. The armor also left his arms bare, showing off the scars and bulging muscle. There was a large white dragon painted on the front of his armor, in about the same spot and the same size as Superman's S. Poking over each shoulder were two sword hilts with an almost savage, dangerous aesthetic design to them. In front of him was a bleach white bow that seemed to be made out of some sort of bone. The horse was almost a quarter bigger than the average Clydesdale, and wore a bright steel face guard with a bloody spike sticking out of the forehead.

Then the dangerous looking man addressed them with a gravelly voice that could have given Batman a run for his money, "Ho, human and…" he looked directly at Clark, "whatever species you are, do you fight the vampires?"

Before Clark could ask how the man knew he wasn't a human, Batman answered with a quick "yes".

"Then you can help me be rid of them, do you have any weapons?" he asked while simultaneously listening behind him for the slightest disturbance, the creatures of night would have been left behind by Beast's fast pace, but were likely still on the trail.

"Not many effective ones, but we're working on a UV generator," the one with the bright S on his chest answered.

"UV generator?" the warrior asked, confused.

"It mimics the sun's light, we're hoping that this will significantly weaken them," the one in black answered.

"Truly? Incredible, we will need such a device, but we will need to lure all of them in one place to get it too work. Have you just your hands to defeat these monsters?" he asked with some confusion, how did they expect to kill the vampire menace with just their fists.

In answer, his eyes caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, coming from the man in black. His hand rose to meet the threat, and caught in between his fingers a strange throwing knife in the shape of a bat.

"These won't be enough to kill a vampire, unless it can cut off an entire head."

"We aren't looking to kill them, we're not executioners!" the blue one said, with a surprising amount of passion.

Believe it or not, the Dragonborn understood that feeling. He still got that feeling every time he killed a bandit, or a thief trying to rob him on the road. If only the town's guards could get off their lazy asses to just go and capture all of them, they could get good work out of them in the Cidhna Mine, but instead it was up to individuals to go and clear them out. Bandits were stupid people, and believed that their numbers gave them advantages over the man eliminating them, even down to the last man; it was pointless bloodshed that could easily be avoided.

But killing vampires was not avoidable, there was no other solution to their menace, no prison could hold them, and there was no reformation of their ways, killing was the only way of life for them.

"Listen, I know that taking a life is terrible, but they are not alive, not anymore. And as for the executioner, there is no taking these things to prison, bars can't hold them, and there is no reforming them. They are not people anymore, they are monsters!" inside, he knew what he was saying was hypocritical, if vampires were monsters than surely the wolf inside of him was, but he needed these people, he couldn't kill dozens of Volkihar Vampire Lords by himself.

"Fine, we won't stop you from killing any, and we'll help you, but we won't kill any of them, and that's final." The Dragonborn just nodded at the blue man's words, accepting what he could, and a good teammate wasn't necessarily one that did his or her fair share of the killing, but one that did their fair share of the work.

"We're going to need a closed off space, large enough to get all of them in at once, but small enough so that the lights can hit all of the open space at once," the one in black started strategizing.

Meanwhile the Dovahkiin began smelling the air, the vampires, oddly enough, had given up chase and their scent was actually fainter than before, but that wasn't what interested is nose. The air had been growing steadily colder as the sun's rays were blocked by the unnatural cloud coverage, but again, that wasn't what interested him. The air here was dirty, polluted, but not even that could disguise the scents the animals gave off as they went about their daily routine.

The warrior snapped his attention back to the two before him, "Should the sun be out?"

The man in blue was the one to answer, "That black cloud that the vampires summoned is what's blocking it."

"I am well aware of the black cloud's purpose, but would the sun be out at this time?"

The man in blue thought for a moment, "Yeah, it should be noon in about an hour or so."

"Then we don't need to lure them inside, we need to lure them outside, and break the cloud cover directly above them."

The man in black just growled at the Dragonborn, "And exactly how do you plan to do that?"

The Dovahkiin just smiled and said, "Leave that to me."

One half hour later, the trio was positioned right outside what they believed to be the heart of operations for the invaders. They had left Beast in a warehouse, mostly due to their need to move more discreetly and Beast was anything but discreet.

Finding the place was supposed to be difficult since the two 'more experienced' heroes were having difficulty tracking the parasites, but thanks to an odd talent displayed by the warrior who's name they had yet to gather. Superman had super senses, he could see farther than anything else, he could hear just about anything on the planet, and had a sense of smell that far surpassed most dogs, but the man with golden eyes could sniff them out when Superman couldn't.

What was even more impressive was his ability to see anything hiding in the shadows. Superman may have super vision, but even he couldn't see in the dark, but this man was easily able to pick out several ambushes they had come across before the vampires even had a chance to spring their trap.

It was in these events where the two super heroes encountered another sample of the evil that had come to plague the city. While ducking through an alleyway so as to avoid the main streets, they encountered a couple of policemen who immediately began firing on them. Superman had attempted to talk them down, but the policemen didn't listen, they just kept firing and doing everything they could to bring down the trio.

They also had a show of the warrior's exceptional skill, and incredible restraint. When he had charged the policemen, Batman had immediately believed that he was charging them to kill the police, but instead the officers found their weapons slashed in half by precise sword strikes and were struck with the flats of the blades, knocking them out.

Superman and Batman where conversing as to why the cops would have started firing at them, but was interrupted by the man. 'Thralls' he had called them. He showed them the two piercings from a set of fangs on each of their necks, and had explained that killing the vampire that had done this was the only way to reverse what had been done.

Superman had seen evil before, his experience with Darkseid certainly led credence to this claim, but this was something different. This wasn't evil with the intentions of power, or anything other than the need to feed. This was the most basic of evil, and this was something that Superman wasn't ready for.

Batman was having an easier time dealing with the brutality of it all, as his rogues gallery features some of the most dangerous, psychotic, and unpredictable villains in the world, who often didn't do anything reasonable, just created chaos and violence, Joker in particular. But even that fiendish clown didn't compare to this, nor did Poison Ivy as she did something rather similar to what happened to the police officers, but her victims at least had the ability to resist, these 'thralls' had no will of their own, no chance to resist.

The Dovahkiin had had his own fair share of surprises on their half hour journey. The first surprise was the artificial lights that didn't need fire, but that didn't disturb him too much, after all, he had seen the same thing at the Mage's College in Winterhold. Then there were his newfound allies. The one in blue was called 'Superman' by the one called 'Batman.' Superman struck the Dragonborn as an arrogant title, but one well deserved when the young warrior personally witnessed him flying, shooting red beams of light from his eyes, and lifting impossibly heavy things and flinging them around as though they were as light as a feather. The name Batman had, at first, made the Dovahkiin nervous, could he be in league with the vampires? But that worry soon disappeared and was replaced with a respect for the man's obviously formidable fighting skills.

Then there were the strange weapons those thralls wielded, and the strange metal carriages, and the sheer size of the city. He remembered what Hircine had said, he wasn't on Nirn anymore, and he couldn't be sure of anything. He would have to learn as much as he could about the new world he was on later; right now he had a den of vampires to eradicate.

They were outside a strange metal and smooth stone building with the large words City Hall on them, and apparently that meant something to his two companions.

"The mayor, that's what they're after. If they can make him one of those, 'thralls', they can gain a major foothold in the politics of America. Isn't he running for governor next term?" the one called Batman asked Superman.

"That's right, if they can gain a hold into the political system, then they can have an entire nation as their personal cattle!"

"Hold friends, it does us no good to think about what they might do, or they might be capable of, the only thing that matters is that we stop them." The two heroes looked at the armored man, his golden eyes practically glowing with the reflection of dozens of street lights.

"Agreed, it doesn't matter what could happen, only about that we stop them," Batman's voice was even deeper and harsher than normal, seemingly in competition with the warrior's naturally deep and gravelly voice.

Superman nodded in agreement, and asked, "So what's the plan… we do have a plan, don't we?"

"You two sneak in with that artificial sun of yours, while I knock on the front door and keep them distracted long enough for you to get into position. We'll want them on this road in front of the building," the armored man ordered.

Superman looked at Batman, expecting him to take exception to being ordered around, but oddly enough the Caped Crusader just nodded and looked at Clark, silently telling him to follow the master of stealth.

The kryptonian just shrugged and shouldered the incredibly heavy, except for Superman, UV generator and followed the black clad hero into the shadows.

The Dovahkiin watched the two oddest companions he had ever had, and silently sent a prayer to Talos for their safety. You would think the three harsh years in Skyrim would have whittled the young Nord down to just an angry shell of a man, but it had only served to make him think of each life a little more. Not that many people could tell he was a compassionate man underneath the hard exterior he maintained, but you don't hunt the perfect killing machines for a year, purposely rush head on into a dragon's layer, with only anger and hate on your side. Everything he did, he did for other's, not that the treasure chest at the bottom of each draugr infested ruin didn't help.

He watched them run into the shadows, and had to remind himself not to snicker. To others, the shadows would easily conceal the two men, but to the Champion of Hircine, all they were doing was running along open ground in plain sight.

The Dragonborn turned his attention back to the 'City Hall' and crossed the busy street. He tried not to stare at the metal carriages that zoomed along the road, but he couldn't stop himself from covering his ears in pain when they emitted a high pitched sound at him.

"Get off the road asshole!" someone yelled at the warrior. Normally he would have confronted that person after such an insult, but this time he simply headed the man's advice and crossed over to the building of smooth rock and metal.

As he approached his sensitive ears picked out the faint, but sudden sound of those fascinating weapons that looked like a stick, but shot balls of metal faster than an arrow. Batman had called them 'guns' and had said it as though he despised them. The Dragonborn didn't blame him. It was merely more evidence that no matter how 'civilized' people get, man's ingenuity to kill each other was their most promising attribute.

As soon as the 'gunshots' sounded, the warrior knew that the… what did they call him? The mayor? The mayor's guards had figured out that these vampires weren't here for a pint of mead.

The young Nord quickly drew Fo and his broad daedric shield. Dovahkiin did not know why, but when anyone else forged daedric weaponry, the metal always warped into demonic shapes as soon as they were cooled in the heart of a Daedra, but when he forged them, they always conformed to whatever shape he wished; as a result, his shield formed a broad circle in front of him.

Time to knock.

FUS RO DAH!

The glass doors of the city hall were shattered and their metal frames were ripped apart as the thunderous retort echoed through the city, causing many people nearby to cover their ears and stared at the man who was seemingly tearing apart the City Hall for no reason.

The armored warrior charged up the steps, entering a wide and spacious reception area, with strange metal doors on both sides and a marble staircase near the back. The scene was a mess, men in the same uniform as the thralls from earlier were firing at men in strange black suits. The Dragonborn's sharp eyes easily picked out the teeth marks on the 'police officers' and he set to work.

His strange companions he had picked up had stressed the need for no fatal methods to be used on the thralls, especially if they could be freed of their servitude. The Dragonborn had agreed readily, glad that he wouldn't have to kill innocent people that were used against him just because they were unlucky.

He reeled his left arm back, muscles flexing, and flung the great, round shield horizontally into the body of a nearby thrall. The shield impacted with great force, and knocked the unfortunate man out while the warrior sprinted forward and was able to catch the shield before it clattered to the ground.

He planted it on the ground and knelt behind it as a hail of gunfire struck the impenetrable metal. As soon as it stopped and the thralls were forced to reload their weapons, the Dovahkiin sprang up, throwing his shield into two thralls standing close together and slapping another on the head with the flat of his blade.

With all the immediate thralls defeated, he turned to the men in black suits and asked, "You there, guardsmen, where is your mayor. He is in danger from these men's masters, and I aim to stop them."

They looked confused at being called guardsmen, even if that technically what they were, but told him where the mayor was. The Dragonborn slapped his shield onto his back and drew Yol as he charged up the marble staircase, headed for the third floor, room 301, the mayor's office.

He didn't make it very far before he encountered a vampire in its monstrous form, "Ah, there's the lost puppy!"

The Volkihar Vampire Lord laughed as he swatted the warrior back down the staircase to the second floor.

"Aw, what's the matter puppy? Did someone forget to scratch your ears?" he cackled as he moved down to crush the man who had been a thorn in their side for the past year. The vampire couldn't believe that this little dog had actually caused them trouble! He was so weak!

Superman was following Batman through the shadows, he was far better at stealth than he was, when he heard a thunderous clap. The sound was terribly loud, especially to the kryptonian's sensitive ears.

Bruce stopped at the noise, and turned to Clark, "What was that, explosives?"

Superman was curious himself, and was already checking as soon as the pain in his ears wore off, "No, it was our friend. I don't know what he did, but he tore down the doors and now he's taking on more of those thralls."

"Then we don't have a lot of time, let's move Boy Scout." With that Batman activated his grapple and swung up to the roof of the City Hall. Superman was already there by the time Batman actually made it to the roof, showoff.

They perched on the edge of the glass roof of the mayor's incredibly large office. Apparently being the mayor of Metropolis was an incredibly important job that required an office bigger than Clark's apartment.

Currently, the mayor was bound and gagged, sitting in his chair as a true monster with a gold and diamond crown that blended seamlessly with his head, large, bat-like wings, and blue-grey skin. The monster appeared to be giving a speech to the other's in the room.

"Indeed, I have led you to the land where we will rule! This, mayor, creature, he is the first step. The next is the 'United States Senate,' and we will continue until this world's cities live under black skies, and their people serve us as the cattle they are!"

Superman was interrupted from listening to the rest as Batman whispered to him, "Where is he?"

Just as he said that, the door to the office burst open…

The Volkihar vampire was having fun with his toy. He really couldn't believe that this was the man responsible for Lord Harkon's death; he was just taking the punishment! He reached down to deliver the final blow to the insufferable dog, when a clawed hand shot up and punched through the monster's chest, spraying cold blood over the marble wall behind him.

In its death throes, the blood sucking parasite was witness to something very few ever witnessed and lived to tell about. The engravings on the warriors bracers were glowing a bright white, casting images of prowling wolves on the walls around him. The skin that was visible was streaked with black veins, fur began sprouting out of his skin, bones snapped and reset, the armor receded behind pitch black fur, fingers split open to reveal longer, thicker, clawed fingers.

Finally the transformation was complete, and in the warrior's place stood a twelve foot tall werewolf, a monster that plagued the nightmares of every person, even vampires. The wolf sniffed the air, and was immediately drawn to the incapacitated, but still alive, vampire on the floor.

"No, nononononono NOOO-," The vampire's screams were silenced as the wolf caved in its head with a powerful thrust of his hand.

He sniffed the air again, and smelled the enemies he hated most, right up stairs. The wolf darted up the marble stair case, and emerged to the sight of five lowly vampires, and two Vampire Lords. They never stood a chance.

Powerful claws rent the flesh from the more human looking vampires, and powerful jaws ripped limbs from the more monstrous creatures. The wolf wasn't without his own wounds, the silver swords wielded by the smaller monsters packed a sting, and the powerful blood magic of the true monsters impacted his tough leathery hide and shook the wolf to the bones. Of course, the vampires' current state was far worse than whatever they could do to the wolf. Body parts hung from the ceiling, limbs were cast to the far corners of the room, and the walls were stained red with the cold blood of the lifeless vampires. The entire ordeal had been surprisingly quiet, with the wolf not even making one growl or howl.

All that remained of the guard detail was one lowly blood sucker, who stood directly in front of the decorated wooden door of the mayor's office. The wolf didn't really remember why that room was important, as most of his memories were clouded in haze of rage and blood, but he did know it was important.

The beast crashed through the door, knocking the unfortunate vampire on his back, and slapped the monster's upper body with his two inch long claws as he ripped the flesh from its bodies. The massive wolf looked up into the shocked faces of fifteen Vampire Lords, all in their monstrous forms.

Superman and Batman's eyes popped as they watched the thing of nightmares burst through the solid wood door of the mayor's office. The vampire's seemed equally shocked at its sudden appearance, as they stood there, staring at the blood dripping from the beast's mouth and hands.

The wolf let out an ungodly roar, sending a spike of fear deep into the souls of every person within earshot, even the two seemingly unflappable heroes spying in through the roof. None fled, they were all too powerful to be frightened into retreating just because of the beast's howl, but they were terrified.

The lead vampire attempted to regain control of the situation, "KILL HIM!"

Two vampires leaped at the wolf, it was the last thing they ever did. One, a female, was tossed back with five deep gashes in her chest and her heart ripped out. The other, male, was gripped by its arms, and had his head bit off by the massive werewolf.

The two heroes on the roof were shocked into action by the terrible brutality of it all, and their desire to see as little fatalities as possible. Superman flew to the center of the glass ceiling and activated the UV generator, flooding powerful artificial sunlight into the room.

All vampires that were still alive immediately shrieked as the artificial sunlight burned their blood in their veins, and forced them back to their human forms. The leader, realizing that his plan had, for the moment, failed, ordered them out the glass windows of the mayor's office where they could flee from the wolf and his supposed allies.

Several made it through, but a couple were caught by a pair of well placed bolos, and were knocked out by a powerful smack of a mace one of the monsters had dropped. Batman stood over the unconscious monsters, satisfied that, while they were in the realm of magic, still shared the same weaknesses as many normal humans.

The Caped Crusader stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a guttural growl from directly behind him. He turned to face the twelve foot beast, but was shocked at what he saw. It was the eyes that tipped the detective off, they were the same color whether he was in his human form or wolf form. This was the ally they had met only an hour before.

What happened next truly opened the hero's eyes. Fur began to recede, as well as the robust body. The distinct sound of bones snapping, popping, and returning to their proper positions came to the dark hero's ears. In just four seconds, the same man they had met in the shadowy Metropolis docks stood before him, just, naked.

The man had short red hair to go with his red beard; his golden eyes seemed even more pronounced by the three diagonal scars that ran across them. The scars on his face were not the only ones, they littered his large, muscular body. Some were more sever than others, such as a large round scar on his abdominals that looked like it came from a tooth. What animal could do that? the Batman wondered.

The huge man stepped past the detective, and stood on the ledge from which all the surviving vampires had fled and opened his mouth. His lips formed words that the Caped Crusader couldn't understand, but the effect was obvious as a smaller shot of thunder pierced the air.

LOK VAH KOOR!

Immediately the clouds above them split open, pouring bright sunlight through the initial cracks, hitting the fleeing vampires directly, forcing them to their knees as their worst enemy exacted its revenge on their sun-sensitive bodies.

The warrior looked to the one part that had yet to turn to light, and saw the leader of the entire cult, "THRIL!"

The man's scream caused the vampire king to smile despite having lost this round. The dog still remembered him, good. Before the sunlight could touch him, he disappeared into a cloud of red eyed bats that flew far faster than what should be physically possible.

So there you have it, the first chapter of my new story, Justice League: Dragonborn. I hope you liked it, and before you start asking, yes this is based on the cartoons, and yes, this is before the formation of the League, approximately twelve months before the invasion. There will probably be one more chapter before we get to the first part of the invasion, just so I can show you how the Dragonborn will be dealing with most super villains as he isn't going to be making meals of them like he did with the vampires.

I hope the whole, he doesn't have a name thing, went over well. I really couldn't decide on a good name for him and it will give you a chance to come up with a good Nord name he'll use as his secret identity, (yes Bats is going to give him one).

I also hope that the changes I made to Elder Scrolls lore is okay with you guys. I just didn't think that if he was going to another universe that Hircine should still have a claim on his soul, and I hope you like Beast, the steed of Shor.

Remember to give me your opinion on the following things, the Dragonborn's name, his love interest (if any), and your take on the story so far.