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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Aeloria's eyes widened in profound awe, the mystery of the High Elf deepening even further. A massive, honored smile touched her lips. "You have my absolute word, Aerion," Aeloria swore quietly. "Your secrets are completely safe with me."
Aerion offered Aeloria a smooth, deeply respectful nod, acknowledging her solemn vow of secrecy.
"Your trust is deeply appreciated, Aeloria," Aerion murmured, perfectly cementing the bond of their newly formed inner circle. "The secrets we carry will be fully revealed when the darkness of the crypt requires them. For now, let us secure our lodgings and rest."
The three of them, with Lupin trotting silently at Aerion's heels, continued their steady march down the damp, wooden boardwalks of Morthal. The thick, clinging fog of the surrounding swamps seemed to bleed directly into the streets, muting the sounds of the town and casting long, eerie shadows from the glowing iron lanterns.
As Aerion navigated the gloomy thoroughfares, his highly active transmigrator mind began to cross reference his current geographical location with the vast library of vanilla game lore permanently etched into his memory.
'Morthal,' Aerion thought, his golden eyes scanning the sturdy timber houses built upon the elevated stone docks.
Suddenly, a massive, highly specific questline triggered in his mental archives.
It was a tragedy. One of the darkest, most genuinely heartbreaking local story in the entire game. In the original timeline, upon arriving in Morthal, the player was immediately confronted with the smoldering, charred remains of a local house.
The home belonged to a lumberjack named Hroggar. Inside the ashes were the burned bodies of his wife and his young daughter, Helgi.
The town believed Hroggar had intentionally set the fire to murder his family so he could openly pursue a scandalous relationship with a local woman named Alva.
But Aerion knew the horrific truth. Hroggar was innocent, albeit entirely mind controlled. Alva was a vampire. She was a thrall serving a vastly more powerful, ancient Master Vampire named Movarth Piquine, who had established a massive coven in a cave system just north of the town.
Alva's mission was to slowly subvert the population of Morthal, turning the key citizens into thralls, with the ultimate goal of transforming the entire isolated town into a massive, heavily fortified blood farm for Movarth's coven.
To eliminate the inconvenient wife and child, Alva had commanded another recently turned vampire, Laelette, to burn the house down with them trapped inside.
'I always hated this specific quest in my past life,' Aerion recalled coldly, a deep frown touching his lips. 'I searched the modding forums for hours, desperately looking for a plugin that would allow me to arrive in Morthal early enough to save the little girl from burning to death. But the engine was hard coded. The house was always burned before the player ever loaded the cell.'
But as he looked down the foggy street, he did not see a smoldering ruin. He saw sturdy, intact wooden houses.
'The tragedy has not yet occurred,' Aerion realized, a sudden, thrilling surge of tactical opportunity washing over him. 'The timeline is fluid enough. I have arrived before Laelette strikes.'
He had absolutely zero tolerance for low level vampires. Movarth was a genuine threat, an ancient, tactical monster whose dark history was famously recorded in the volume Immortal Blood. But his thralls? Alva and Laelette were just common Nords and Bretons playing at being predators.
'If I manages to dismantle Alva's plot and expose her journal to Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone before the blood farm is established, I will not only save an innocent family, but I will instantly secure the profound gratitude of the Jarl,' Aerion calculated rapidly. 'Thane of Whiterun, and Thane of Hjaalmarch. A massive expansion of my political influence across the northern borders.'
However, executing the intervention required extreme delicacy. Jarl Idgrod was a powerful mystic, prone to sudden visions, but she was also incredibly stubborn. Simply walking into Highmoon Hall and accusing a local woman of vampirism without absolute, irrefutable proof would backfire catastrophically. He needed evidence. He needed the journal.
As Aerion's mind raced with the logistical framework of a vampire hunt, the group finally approached the heavy wooden doors of the Moorside Inn.
Standing directly on the wooden porch of the inn, completely blocking the entrance, were two figures engaged in a highly intense, hushed conversation.
The first was a rugged, heavily bearded Nord man wearing simple lumberjack clothes. His posture was rigid, and his eyes had a strange, slightly glazed look to them, as if he were sleepwalking. The second figure was a Nord woman.
Aerion's eyes narrowed slightly.
Since his transmigration into Skyrim, he had grown accustomed to the highly practical, heavy fur and leather clothing necessary for survival in the freezing climate. But the woman on the porch was wearing a deeply cut, remarkably revealing tavern dress that exposed an entirely impractical amount of cleavage to the freezing swamp air.
"Alva," the lumberjack murmured, his voice thick and slightly desperate. "I... I just need more time. The wife is getting suspicious of my late nights."
"Hush, Hroggar," the woman replied, her voice a sickly sweet, hypnotic purr as she reached out to gently stroke his bearded cheek. "Do not worry your pretty head about your wife. I have everything planned perfectly. Soon, there will be absolutely nothing standing between us. We will be together forever."
The pieces clicked instantly in Aerion's mind. Hroggar and Alva. The mind control is already deeply established. The arson order is imminent.
Aerion did not slow his pace. He maintained his flawless, aristocratic posture, walking directly up the wooden steps of the porch alongside Jenassa and Aeloria.
"Excuse me," Aerion spoke, his melodic voice completely calm, collected, and entirely devoid of any suspicion. "You are blocking the path. Please move away, so that we can walk pass."
Hroggar blinked slowly, turning his glazed eyes toward the towering High Elf, but barely reacted.
Alva, however, spun around with surprising speed. When her eyes landed on the immaculate, dark robed Altmer, accompanied by a heavily armed Dark Elf and an Imperial soldier, a sudden, instinctual flash of deep, predatory anxiety crossed her features. She didn't know who this High Elf was, but her dark blood warned her that he was incredibly dangerous.
Desperate to ensure the strangers wouldn't interfere with her delicate operations, Alva instantly attempted to neutralize the threat.
She didn't draw a weapon. She locked her eyes directly onto Aerion's golden gaze, subtly flaring her pupils. She tapped into her dark, vampiric bloodline, unleashing a heavy, concentrated wave of Vampire's Seduction directly into the High Elf's mind.
For a fraction of a second, Aerion felt a strange, thick fog begin to roll over his consciousness. The freezing air of the swamp suddenly felt warm. The highly inappropriate, revealing cut of Alva's dress suddenly seemed incredibly enticing. A deep, irrational urge to step closer to the vampire, to agree with whatever she said, began to bloom in his chest.
He was being actively mind controlled.
But before the vampiric magic could establish a true foothold in his neural pathways, a blinding flash of golden light erupted entirely within his mind's eye.
The digital interface of his transmigrator system violently reasserted itself, aggressively purging the foreign magical influence with the sheer, overwhelming processing power of a cosmic engine.
[Hostile Mental Magic Detected.]
[System Intervention Authorized.]
[NEW SKILL ACQUIRED: Mental Resistance (MAX LEVEL)]
[Description: Your mind is a fortified steel trap floating in a sea of absolute, untouchable logic. You are now entirely immune to all forms of illusion magic, mind altering spells, and vampiric thralling. Seduction attempts will bounce off your consciousness like a rubber ball hitting a brick wall. If a Daedric Prince attempts to possess you, they will simply get an extreme headache and politely leave. You are mentally invincible.]
The thick, seductive fog instantly shattered, completely evaporating from Aerion's mind. His golden eyes snapped back into absolute, razor sharp clarity.
Alva staggered backward half a step, her eyes widening in profound, terrifying shock. She could feel the magical feedback of her spell violently rejecting her. It was as if she had just tried to charm a solid wall of iron.
Aerion stared down at the vampire. He didn't draw his sword, and he didn't cast a fireball. He simply offered a slow, incredibly cold, profoundly knowing smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"I suggest," Aerion spoke, his voice dropping into a dark, vibrating register that carried the subtle promise of absolute annihilation, "that you keep your parlor tricks to yourself, madam. And I suggest you move."
Alva swallowed hard, pure terror flashing in her eyes. She grabbed Hroggar by the arm, violently yanking the lumberjack to the side to clear the doorway.
Aerion didn't look back at her. He pushed the heavy oak doors open and stepped into the dimly lit, smoke-filled interior of the Moorside Inn, followed closely by his heavily armed entourage.
The atmosphere inside the inn was significantly gloomier than the Bannered Mare. The wood felt damp, and the few patrons scattered at the tables looked pale and exhausted.
Aerion walked directly up to the main bar counter. Standing behind the wood was a sturdy, no nonsense Redguard woman.
"Welcome to the Moorside Inn," the Redguard greeted, trying to hide her surprise at the sudden influx of heavily armed, diverse strangers. "I'm Jonna. What can I do for you folks?"
"Good evening, Jonna. I am Aerion," he introduced himself smoothly, reaching into his digital inventory. "We require three private rooms for the duration of four nights."
Jonna's eyebrows shot up. A four night stay for three rooms was a massive windfall for the struggling inn.
"Three rooms for four nights... that'll be one hundred twenty septims, my lord," Jonna calculated quickly.
Aerion nodded gracefully. He pulled the required gold into his palm. "Additionally, we require four bowls of your hottest meat and vegetable soup, and three flagons of standard Nord mead, brought to our table."
"Right away. With the hot meals and the mead, the total comes to one hundred and fifty eight septims," Jonna confirmed.
Aerion placed the heavy stack of gold coins onto the counter.
Jonna swept the gold off the counter with practiced speed, retrieving three heavy brass keys from a pegboard behind her. She handed them over with a bright, welcoming smile.
"Rooms are down the hall," Jonna instructed. "Take a seat by the fire, and I'll have your hot soup and mead out in a jiffy."
"My thanks," Aerion nodded.
He led Jenassa and Aeloria to a sturdy wooden table positioned near the roaring hearth fire. Lupin immediately curled up on the hearthstone, soaking up the heat.
A few minutes later, Jonna delivered the steaming wooden bowls of thick, hearty soup and the heavy flagons of mead. The food was significantly rougher than Whiterun fare, but it was hot, and it provided the necessary calories after the freezing carriage ride.
They ate in quiet efficiency. Aeloria consumed her meal rapidly, clearly exhausted by the long day of travel and the intense, adrenaline fueled troll ambush.
Once the bowls were clean, Aerion wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and stood up from the table.
"Jenassa. Aeloria," Aerion addressed his companions smoothly. "You have endured a grueling journey. Please, take your keys and retire to your rooms. Rest and relax. I have some preliminary investigation that I wish to conduct around the perimeter of Morthal before nightfall. I shall return shortly."
Aeloria offered a grateful nod, taking her key. "Thank you, Aerion. Stay safe in the fog."
Jenassa simply offered a silent nod, her crimson eyes scanning the gloomy taproom before she turned toward the hallway.
Aerion exited the Moorside Inn, stepping back out onto the damp wooden boardwalks of Morthal. The sun had fully set, and the thick, swirling fog was now illuminated only by the flickering orange light of the town's iron lanterns.
He didn't head toward the town gates to conduct geographical reconnaissance. He had absolutely no intention of looking for Ustengrav tonight.
His tactical objective was entirely internal.
'I need to establish a connection with Hroggar's family before the arsonist strikes,' Aerion planned meticulously. 'If I can position myself as a trusted acquaintance, my testimony against Alva will carry significantly more weight with Jarl Idgrod when the plot is exposed.'
He began to walk purposefully down the boardwalk, his golden eyes scanning the residential structures built upon the stone docks. He remembered the layout of the town perfectly. He bypassed Highmoon Hall and the local apothecary, heading toward the residential cluster near the lumber mill.
As he walked, he felt a soft, familiar presence brush against his boots.
Lupin had quietly slipped out of the inn and was trotting faithfully beside him.
Aerion smiled, realizing the tiny, cinnamon red fox was the absolute, perfect persuasive weapon for his current objective.
Children are inherently terrified of towering, dark robed High Elves, Aerion reasoned logically. But they are completely, entirely powerless against the adorable, vibrating charm of a small, fluffy animal. Lupin is the perfect icebreaker.
He continued his deliberate pace, his eyes locking onto a specific, sturdy wooden house located near the edge of the dark, murky waters of the swamp.
It was Hroggar's house. And it was completely, beautifully intact.
Aerion slowed his pace, assuming a casual, non-threatening posture as he approached the front porch of the home. He needed an organic reason to engage the family, something simple and easily believable.
'I will ask for directions to the lumber mill,' Aerion decided. A classic, unthreatening opening.
He walked up the wooden steps, adjusting his dark robes to ensure he looked like a wealthy, lost traveler rather than a menacing mage. He raised his hand, preparing to knock firmly on the heavy oak door.
But before his knuckles could strike the wood, the door violently swung open from the inside.
Standing in the threshold, completely frantic and breathing heavily, was a Nord woman. Her face was pale with sheer, unadulterated terror, and she was clutching a heavy iron fireplace poker in both of her trembling hands.
It was Hroggar's wife.
When her eyes landed on the towering High Elf standing on her porch, she let out a sharp, panicked shriek, raising the iron poker aggressively.
"Stay back! Don't you come any closer!" she screamed, her voice cracking with hysteria. "I know what you are! I know what she sent you to do!"
Aerion froze, his golden eyes widening in genuine, absolute shock.
The timeline hadn't just shifted. It had completely, violently derailed. He hadn't arrived early. He had arrived exactly in the middle of the assassination attempt.
"Madam, peace! I am not an enemy!" Aerion commanded sharply, raising his empty hands to show he meant no harm, completely dropping the lost traveler act.
But before he could deploy his Persuasion Skill to calm her, a massive, terrifying crash echoed from the back of the house.
The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood was immediately followed by a high pitched, absolute scream of pure, visceral terror.
It was the scream of a little girl.
Helgi.
"NO!" the mother shrieked, entirely abandoning Aerion. She turned and sprinted desperately back into the dark interior of the house, raising the iron poker.
Aerion's Gamer mind instantly processed the auditory intelligence.
Laelette the Vampire didn't wait until midnight to start the fire. She broke through the back window to murder them directly. Aerion didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second.
The cold, calculating tactician vanished, entirely replaced by the terrifying, explosive speed of a fully integrated blademaster. He engaged his massive 430 point Stamina pool, moving with blinding, superhuman velocity. Aerion surged through the open doorway, his hand violently ripping the Black Prism from its scabbard as he charged into the darkness of the doomed house.
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 440/440 Stamina: 430/430 Magicka: 620/620
Level: 109
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Mental Resistance (MAX LEVEL) - NEW, Destruction (Fire(+2)/Lightning(+1)/Frost) (Level 85/41/98), Restoration (Healing/Purify(+1)) (Level 91/56), Alteration (Level 35), Alteration (Level 20), Illusion (Level 42), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/10), Persuasion(+1) (Level 60), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 48), One Handed (Level 93), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 66), Light Armor (Level 53), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus (Force), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim (Fade), & Su (Air)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, the Golden Claw, Calm Spellbook, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Scroll Of Summoning (Wolf), Scroll Of Healing, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Dragonstone, Golden Staff of Flames, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Ebony Claw, Orcish Dagger, Jagged Crown, The Mirror, Glass Sword, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Reanimate Corpse Tome, Staff of Lightning, Deed to Tundra Homestead, Garnet, Sapphire, Ruby, Dawnbreaker, & Traveling Backpack (Supplies)
2x Potion Of Ultimate Magicka, Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), & Elven Sword
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, & Common Soul Gem (Filled)
4x Potions of Minor Magicka, Spider Eggs, & Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
5x Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
8x Iron Arrows, Ancient Nord Arrows, & Black Soul Gems (Filled)
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
Weight: 75.32 KG / 515 KG
Septims: 77,128