If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Before them, nestled perfectly in the lush, forested valley against the banks of the rushing river, was the quiet lumber village of Riverwood. Aerion spurred his horse forward, their mounts' hooves clattering loudly as they crossed the sturdy stone bridge that served as the entrance to the village.
The rhythmic, heavy clatter of iron shod hooves against the ancient stone bridge announced their arrival. As Aerion, Jenassa, and the fox riding in the saddlebag crossed over the rushing, frothing rapids of the White River, the dense pine forest opened up to reveal the logging settlement of Riverwood.
In the confines of the video game Aerion once knew, Riverwood had been little more than a single street, a lumber mill, and three small houses clustered together for convenience. But reality, as he was looking gat, was vastly more expansive.
This Riverwood was a proper, thriving frontier village. Thick plumes of gray woodsmoke rose from dozens of stone chimneys, mingling with the sharp, ever present scent of freshly sawed pine and damp earth.
Heavy timber longhouses and sturdy wooden cabins dotted the banks of the river and climbed slightly up the forested slopes. The massive water wheel of the lumber mill groaned loudly as it turned, driving the heavy iron saws that provided Whiterun with its vital building materials.
Several Whiterun guards, clad in their signature yellow painted chainmail and heavy iron helmets, patrolled the widened dirt roads in pairs, their presence a stark reminder of the escalating civil war and the increasing boldness of local bandit factions.
As Aerion guided his brown horse off the bridge and onto the muddy main thoroughfare of the village, a profound sense of nostalgia and surreal disbelief washed over him. His golden eyes drifted toward the muddy, reed choked banks of the river just south of the bridge.
That was the exact spot where he had first awakened in this world. He remembered the bone deep cold of the mud, the sheer panic of finding himself in an alien, golden skinned body, and the terrifying realization that his life on Earth was gone forever.
He had been weak, confused, and entirely vulnerable then. Now, mere weeks later, he rode back into the village as an incredibly wealthy, highly lethal battlemage with a lifetime contracted assassin watching his back.
The arrival of two heavily armed, imposing strangers on expensive warhorses naturally became the immediate center of attention for the bustling village. The blacksmith paused his hammering, lumberjacks leaned against their axes, and the local women carrying woven baskets of wet laundry stopped to stare.
A group of young village children, who had been loudly playing a game of tag in the muddy street with a massive, fluffy white dog, immediately ceased their shouting.
The children scrambled out of the way, pulling the barking dog, whom Aerion instantly recognized as Stump, safely behind a stack of chopped firewood as the tall High Elf and the intimidating Dark Elf rode past.
They navigated the main road until they reached a familiar, two story wooden building with a prominent sign hanging over the door, depicting a set of weighing scales. The Riverwood Trader.
Aerion pulled back gently on the leather reins, bringing his mount to a smooth halt near the wooden hitching post. He swung his leg over the saddle and dismounted, his boots landing softly in the packed dirt.
The moment the horse was still, Lupin popped his head out of the saddlebag, wriggled his agile body free, and executed a flawless, acrobatic jump, landing lightly by Aerion's feet with an excited shake of his cinnamon fur.
"Wait here, Jenassa," Aerion instructed quietly, looping his horse's reins around the wooden post. "Keep an eye on the mounts and ensure no idle hands get curious about our saddlebags. I have business inside."
Jenassa simply offered a single, crisp nod. She didn't dismount. Instead, she adjusted her posture in the saddle, resting a hand casually near the hilt of her dagger, her crimson eyes scanning the gawking villagers with a cold, predatory indifference that clearly stated anyone attempting to approach the horses would lose their fingers.
Satisfied that the exterior was secure, Aerion pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Riverwood Trader, a small iron bell chiming sharply above his head to announce his entry. Lupin trotted inside right behind him, immediately sniffing at a barrel of salted cod near the entrance.
The interior of the store was a chaotic, wonderfully cluttered mess of commerce. Wooden shelves groaned under the weight of iron ingots, folded linen wraps, ceramic bowls, wheels of Eidar cheese, and bundles of dried herbs hanging from the rafters. The air smelled of dust, polished wood, and stale spices.
Standing behind the main wooden counter was an Imperial man, busily organizing a stack of ledgers. Lucan Valerius looked up at the sound of the bell, pasting a practiced, welcoming merchant's smile across his face.
"Welcome to the Riverwood Trader, how may I—"
Lucan's voice suddenly faltered. His practiced smile slipped, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the towering, impeccably dressed High Elf standing in his shop. For a brief, tense moment, the heavy baggage of the geopolitical climate filled the room.
Lucan and his sister had fled their homeland of Cyrodiil precisely because the devastating war with the Thalmor and the Aldmeri Dominion had ruined their lives and their prospects. Seeing an Altmer walk into his humble frontier shop triggered an immediate, instinctual wave of defensive apprehension.
However, Lucan was a merchant first and a traumatized refugee second. Swallowing his discomfort, he forced his posture to relax and tried to resume his usual, hospitable demeanor. "Ah... apologies, sir. Welcome. What can I help you find today?"
"Good morning to you, Master Valerius," Aerion replied, deliberately keeping his voice smooth, polite, and entirely devoid of the haughty arrogance the Imperial was likely expecting. "I am merely browsing your wares on my journey north."
As he spoke, Aerion's golden eyes flicked past the Imperial merchant. Resting proudly on a custom made wooden display rack right behind the counter, gleaming under the warm light of a hanging lantern, was the exact item he had come for. The Golden Claw.
It was a beautiful, solid gold artifact shaped like a dragon's foot, intricately carved with ancient Nordic symbols representing a moth, an owl, and a bear.
Aerion smiled inwardly, a deep sense of relief washing over him. The thief, Arvel the Swift, had not yet struck. The claw was exactly where it was supposed to be.
Before Aerion could initiate the transaction, the sound of light, hurried footsteps echoed from the wooden staircase leading to the private living quarters on the second floor.
"Is there a new customer, brother?" a sweet, melodious female voice called out. "I didn't hear you call out a name."
As the voice spoke, the speaker descended the stairs and stepped into the main shop. Aerion turned his head slightly to evaluate Camilla Valerius.
Even with his modern earth and elevated Altmer standards of beauty, he had to admit that the Imperial woman was undeniably striking. She possessed a fiery, independent energy, with sharp, intelligent dark eyes and long, well kept hair.
While she might not have been the most ethereal beauty in all of Tamriel, in a rugged, mud soaked logging village filled with rough hewn Nords, she was a radiant jewel. It was entirely understandable why the local Bosmer hunter, Faendal, and the Nord bard, Sven, were locked in a bitter, petty rivalry for her hand in marriage.
Camilla walked toward the counter, wiping her hands on her apron, but the moment her dark eyes landed on the High Elf, she stopped dead in her tracks. The same flash of inherent Imperial apprehension that had hit her brother now crossed her features.
Lucan, knowing exactly what his sister was thinking and desperate to avoid offending a wealthy looking mage, subtly cleared his throat and shot her a warning, wide eyed look that universally translated to, 'Be polite, he has coin.'
Camilla blinked, recovering her composure quickly. She offered a slightly stuttered, but perfectly polite curtsy. "G-good morning, traveler. Welcome to Riverwood."
Aerion offered a graceful, aristocratic nod in return. "A pleasure to meet you, my lady."
He turned his attention back to the brother, resting his hands casually on the edge of the wooden counter. "As I said, I am looking to purchase an item from your establishment today, Master Valerius."
Lucan's merchant smile returned in full force, the promise of a sale smoothing over his racial discomfort. "Excellent! We sell all kinds of goods here, sir. Weapons, armor, potions, dry goods... whatever you need for the road, we likely have it stocked."
Aerion slowly raised a slender, golden finger and pointed directly over Lucan's shoulder. "I am not in need of supplies. I wish to purchase that specific artifact. The golden claw displayed on the rack behind you."
Hearing this, the pair of siblings exchanged a quick, highly practiced glance. They weren't entirely shocked that someone wanted to buy the Golden Claw. Ever since Lucan had acquired the strange artifact from a passing caravan, it had drawn the eye of almost every traveler, mercenary, and thief who walked into the store.
What surprised them was that a wealthy, impeccably dressed High Elf mage had specifically stopped in their humble village to demand it.
Camilla immediately shook her head, shooting her brother a firm, warning look. Lucan felt the exact same way. In his mind, the Golden Claw wasn't just a shiny trinket, it was a token of immense good fortune.
Ever since he had placed it on that rack, his business in Riverwood had boomed. He genuinely believed it was a lucky charm blessed by Zenithar himself.
Lucan let out an awkward, slightly strained chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, I am very sorry, sir, but unfortunately, that particular item is not for sale. It is... well, it's considered a family heirloom of sorts. It's strictly for display purposes to draw in the curious. I couldn't possibly part with it."
Aerion's face remained an unreadable mask, but inwardly, he was perfectly calm. He had entirely expected this exact response. In the mechanics of the game, the Golden Claw was locked as an essential quest item, Lucan would never willingly sell it, and the player was forced to either let it be stolen by Arvel to initiate the quest, or steal it themselves.
But this was reality, and in reality, every mortal man had a price, and every mortal mind could be swayed by the right combination of fear and greed.
He had prepared for this. He needed to deploy his rapidly leveling Persuasion skill to completely shatter their attachment to the artifact.
"A family heirloom, you say?" Aerion murmured, his voice dropping an octave, taking on the dark, solemn tone of a seasoned scholar who had just stumbled upon a terrible tragedy. He leaned slightly over the counter, his golden eyes locking onto Lucan's. "Master Valerius... how long have you possessed that item?"
Lucan blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in the elf's demeanor. "A... a little over several months, I suppose. I bought it off a Khajiit peddler passing through the southern pass. Why?"
Aerion let out a heavy, incredibly convincing sigh, shaking his head with a look of profound pity. Camilla slowly moved closer to her brother, sensing the ominous shift in the atmosphere.
"Because, Master Valerius," Aerion whispered, weaving his magical charisma into the air, making his words sound like absolute, undeniable truth, "that item is not a lucky charm. It is an ancient Nordic burial key. And a heavily cursed one at that."
Lucan let out a nervous scoff, waving his hand. "A curse? Sir, with all due respect, I am an Imperial. We don't believe in old Nordic ghost stories. It's just a piece of solid gold shaped like a claw. It's brought me nothing but good fortune."
"Good fortune?" Aerion countered smoothly, his eyes flashing. "Tell me, since you brought that claw into your home, have you found yourselves waking up in the dead of night, feeling a sudden, bone deep chill in the room? Have you heard faint, scratching sounds coming from the floorboards, or experienced vivid, terrifying nightmares of walking through dark, freezing stone corridors?"
Lucan and Camilla both froze. Their eyes widened, and a sudden, undeniable pallor washed over their faces.
Aerion had taken a massive, calculated guess based on the ambient haunting effects that could be have by typical of Dragon Cult artifacts which unlike in the game, in reality it could happen, and judging by their terrified reactions, he had struck absolute gold. The power of suggestion, combined with his high level persuasion, was taking root in their minds.
"How... how could you possibly know that?" Camilla whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "We thought it was just the draft from the river..."
"I know it because I am a scholar of the ancient arcane arts," Aerion lied flawlessly, layering his voice with authority. "That artifact is known in the restricted texts of the College of Winterhold as the Claw of the Restless Vassal. It is a focal point for necromantic energy, forged by the Dragon Cults in the Merethic Era. Its sole purpose is to serve as a beacon, drawing the restless dead, the Draugr, toward whoever claims ownership of it."
Aerion pointed a dramatic finger at the claw on the rack. "The 'good fortune' you believe it brings is merely a side effect of its magical aura manipulating probability to ensure it remains in a populated area. It is fattening the calf, Lucan. The nightmares you are experiencing are the Draugr from the nearby barrows slowly triangulating its position. If you keep that claw in this wooden building much longer, it will not just attract thieves. It will draw an army of ancient, decaying horrors straight down from the mountains to reclaim it, and they will slaughter everyone in this village to get it."
The psychological strike was devastating. The Valerius siblings were mere merchants, civilians who lived in constant, mundane fear of simple bandits and wolves.
The terrifying, highly detailed lore Aerion had just fabricated out of thin air, delivered with the absolute, unshakeable confidence of an Altmer mage, completely shattered their perception of their prized possession. It was no longer a lucky charm, it was a ticking time bomb of undead violence sitting in their living room.
Lucan swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously to the golden claw as if it were a venomous snake about to strike. "Are... are you certain of this, sir? You aren't just telling us a frightening tale to convince me to sell it to you?"
"If I merely wanted to steal it, Lucan, I would have broken in under the cover of darkness, or used an illusion spell to cloud your mind," Aerion stated reasonably, his tone shifting from ominous warning to a comforting offer of salvation. "I am here in broad daylight, offering to relieve you of this terrible burden before it costs you your lives. I have the magical fortitude to contain its curse and return it to the depths where it belongs. I am trying to save your village."
To absolutely obliterate any lingering mercantile hesitation, Aerion reached into his robes. He commanded his system to withdraw a staggering sum of gold, and he placed a massive, incredibly heavy leather pouch directly onto the wooden counter. The impact made the sturdy timber groan in protest.
"And because I know you paid good coin for it, and because I am a man of principle," Aerion concluded, his voice ringing with finality, "I am willing to compensate you for your trouble. I will pay you five thousand septims for the claw. Right now."
Lucan and Camilla's eyes bulged so wide they looked almost comical. Five thousand septims. It was an astronomical, life changing amount of wealth for a provincial trader.
It was enough to buy a small estate in Cyrodiil, or to live in absolute luxury in Skyrim for months or even couple of years. The sheer, overwhelming greed, perfectly paired with the terrifying fear Aerion had just instilled, created an insurmountable pressure.
The deal was sealed.
A rapid, triumphant cascade of golden text flooded Aerion's vision, completely obscuring his sight for a fraction of a second as the system rewarded his masterful, manipulative performance.
[Persuasion Skill Leveled Up to 64!]
[Persuasion Skill Leveled Up to 65!]
[Persuasion Skill Leveled Up to 66!]
[Persuasion Skill Leveled Up to 67!]
[Persuasion Skill Leveled Up to 68!]
[Persuasion Skill Leveled Up to 69!]
[Persuasion Skill Leveled Up to 70!]
[Persuasion Skill Leveled Up to 71!]
Lucan's hands literally trembled as he reached out and touched the heavy bag of gold, verifying that it was indeed real. He looked up at Aerion, a mixture of profound relief and ecstatic joy on his face.
"I... by the Eight, I accept!" Lucan stammered excitedly, pulling the heavy sack of gold toward his chest as if his life depended on it. "It is a pleasure doing business with you, sir! A profound pleasure! Camilla, quickly, take the claw down and give it to the gentleman!"
Camilla, still looking slightly terrified of the artifact but clearly thrilled by the influx of wealth, hurried behind her brother. She carefully lifted the Golden Claw off its display rack, holding it gingerly by the edges as if it might burn her, and quickly handed it over the counter to Aerion.
Aerion took the heavy, cold gold artifact in his hands. He offered the siblings a polite, reassuring smile. "You have made a very wise decision today. May Zenithar bless your future endeavors."
As he turned to leave, Aerion smoothly slipped the Golden Claw into the folds of his robes. In reality, the artifact vanished instantly into the absolute security of his spatial inventory, leaving no bulge in his clothing.
The brother and sister, completely distracted by the massive pile of wealth they had just acquired, didn't even notice the magical sleight of hand.
"Goodbye, sir! Safe travels!" Lucan called out happily as Aerion pushed open the door.
Stepping back out into the crisp, pine scented air of Riverwood, Aerion took a deep, satisfying breath. He had bypassed the bandit thief entirely and secured the key through pure, unadulterated dialogue.
As he approached the hitching post, both the black and the brown horses immediately perked up. They tossed their manes and let out soft, welcoming whinnies, their hooves stamping the dirt excitedly.
The suppression of his Animal Affinity had naturally faded, and the passive aura of absolute peace and dominance washed over the beasts, making them highly energetic and eager to serve him.
Jenassa watched the horses react, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity, before she looked down at her employer. "Well? Did you acquire what you wanted from the Imperial?"
Aerion offered a sharp, predatory smile, patting the neck of his brown horse before swinging himself smoothly up into the saddle. Lupin quickly scrambled up the horse's flank and dove headfirst into his designated saddlebag.
"I did," Aerion confirmed, adjusting his grip on the leather reins. He turned his gaze away from the peaceful village, looking high up toward the treacherous, snow covered peaks that loomed ominously to the north. "The item is secured. It is time to go to the crypt, Jenassa. Let us see what hides in Bleak Falls Barrow."
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[Main Panel] Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer) Health: 200/200 Stamina: 200/200 Magicka: 330/330 Level: 57
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire/Lightning) (Level 37/37), Persuasion (Level 71), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 16), One Handed (Level 64), Restoration (Healing) (Level 14), Two Handed (Level 65), Lockpicking (Level 9), Archery (Level 72), Alteration (Level 4), Enchanting (Level 19), Light Armor (Level 40), & Block (Level 60)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Steel Dagger, Long Bow, Potions of Minor Stamina, Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Copper and Onyx Circlet, Mammoth Tusk, Iron Shield, Steel Mace, Steel Warhammer, & the Golden Claw
2x Gold Garnet Rings, Gold Ring, & Scroll Of Fireball
3x Silver Garnet Rings, Silver Rings, & Sapphire,
4x Lockpicks, Potions of Minor Magicka, & Amethyst
6x Potions Of Minor Healing & Ruby
8x Iron Arrows
Weight: 92 KG / 400 KG
Septims = 50,571