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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Idgrod considered the logic. It spared her men from the slaughter, and it placed the absolute risk entirely upon the shoulders of the hyper competent outlanders. "The reasoning is sound," Idgrod agreed, offering a firm nod. "Very well, Aerion. You have absolute operational control. The hunt for Movarth belongs entirely to you and your associates. May the Divines guide your blades."
Aerion listened to the Jarl's reluctant, desperate concession, his expression remaining a mask of flawless, respectful calm. He placed his hand over his heart, offering another measured, aristocratic bow.
"You have my deepest gratitude for your trust, Jarl Idgrod," Aerion replied, his melodic voice completely steady despite the apocalyptic stakes. "I assure you, I already have a highly specific plan in mind to dismantle this coven. You have no need to worry, I will not return to this hall without absolute, irrefutable proof that Movarth Piquine has been permanently eradicated and his scheme for Morthal entirely thwarted."
He lowered his hand, his golden eyes hardening into chips of calculating amber as he addressed the logistical reality of the coming battle.
"However, while I request absolute operational control over the interior assault, I do require your forces for a secondary, equally vital objective," Aerion continued, turning his gaze toward Housecarl Gorm. "I request that you deploy Gorm and a detachment of your finest, most disciplined soldiers to station themselves entirely outside the cave system. They are to establish a heavy, inescapable perimeter several feet back from the main entrance, utilizing the natural tree line for cover."
Idgrod's brow furrowed. "A perimeter? If you are confident in your ability to clear the nest, why risk my men outside?"
"Because in any cavern attacks against a numerically superior force, the possibility of a breach exists," Aerion explained with cold, military pragmatism. "While my associates and I will systematically clear the caverns, there is a high probability that one or two desperate vampires might slip through the chaos of the melee and attempt to flee into the swamps."
He stepped closer to the throne, dropping his voice to a grave, urgent register.
"We cannot allow a single parasite to escape, my Jarl," Aerion warned softly. "If a surviving pureblood vampire escapes our net, they will not simply flee the province. They will harbor a centuries long, burning thirst for vengeance against the town that slaughtered their coven. And their very first target, the absolute focal point of their wrath, will be you, and your family. We must establish a blockade to ensure that no vengeful stragglers ever return to haunt Highmoon Hall."
Idgrod Ravencrone's eyes widened a fraction of an inch as the terrifying, deeply personal reality of the threat set in. She looked toward the stairs leading to the private quarters, thinking of her young son, Joric, and her daughter, Idgrod the Younger. The maternal instinct of the Nord ruler flared violently, entirely overwriting her pride.
"You are absolutely correct," Idgrod nodded, her voice tight with fierce conviction. "The perimeter must be absolute. I will not have monsters hunting my bloodline in the dark."
But as she looked back at the towering High Elf, the scarred Dark Elf, and the Imperial clad human, her inherent, pragmatic skepticism resurfaced.
"Yet... I must ask, Aerion," Idgrod pressed, her mystic eyes filled with genuine, heavy doubt. "Can you truly accomplish this? You are three people. Movarth is an ancient legend, and he is surrounded by a coven in a lair of his own choosing. They are vampires, not simple bandits or rogue mages. They possess the speed of the wind and the strength of ten men. Is it truly possible for a trio of travelers to march into the belly of the beast and survive?"
Standing quietly near the shadows of the doorway, Jenassa found herself silently, profoundly agreeing with the Jarl's assessment.
For the very first time since she had sworn her blade to the High Elf's service, the seasoned Morag Tong assassin felt a genuine spike of apprehension. She trusted her Patron implicitly. She had watched him effortlessly parry a two handed greatsword and incinerate towering frost trolls.
But marching voluntarily into the underground, unlit lair of an ancient Master Vampire and his entire coven was not a calculated risk, to Jenassa's hardened mind, it bordered on unadulterated, suicidal rashness. The sheer numbers alone would overwhelm them in the dark corridors of a cave.
Aeloria, however, possessed an entirely different perspective.
The Dragonborn stepped forward, the heavy silver plate still strapped to her forearm, her bright blue eyes blazing with an unyielding, fierce confidence that seemed to defy logic itself.
"You do not need to doubt him, Jarl Idgrod," Aeloria spoke up, her voice ringing with jovial, absolute certainty. "Aerion possesses a terrifying depth of knowledge regarding these monsters. I watched him track and dismantle that creature in the house with flawless precision. If he says he can eradicate this coven, then he will do it. We are more than ready to face whatever lurks in that cave."
Aerion cast a highly amused, appreciative glance at Aeloria. Her boundless, main character optimism was a massive tactical asset when dealing with terrified politicians.
He turned back to the throne, offering a smooth, confident smile that entirely masked Jenassa's silent misgivings.
"Do not worry, my Jarl. You must simply believe in our capabilities," Aerion reassured her gently. "It may take some time, and the battle will undoubtedly be fierce, but I swear to you, these vampires will be eliminated. That is my absolute promise."
He took a step backward, formally requesting permission to proceed.
"However, I do not intend to launch a blind, disorganized assault in the dead of night," Aerion stated logically. "I request your permission to leave the hall and conduct a preliminary scouting mission of the cave's exterior right now. We must assess the terrain and the perimeter before deciding whether to launch our strike immediately, or wait for the morning sun. A daylight raid offers a massive tactical advantage, the vampires will be sluggish, resting during the daylight hours, severely limiting their reaction time."
Idgrod considered the request. The logic of a daylight raid was undeniable, but her trust in the High Elf was not yet entirely unconditional. She needed to verify his claims and ensure he wasn't simply plotting to take the journal and flee the hold.
"You may scout the area," Idgrod agreed, offering a firm nod. She turned to her Housecarl. "Gorm. You will accompany them. Observe the location of this lair, assess the terrain for your perimeter deployment tomorrow, and report back to me."
Gorm thumped his fist against his chest piece. "It shall be done, my Jarl."
Aerion simply nodded, completely unbothered by the Jarl's need to send a babysitter. It changed nothing about his operational plans.
With the political authorizations finalized, Aerion, Jenassa, and Aeloria turned and marched out of the Great Hall, followed closely by the massive, heavily armed Housecarl and the tiny, cinnamon red fox.
They stepped out into the freezing, oppressive fog of Morthal. The night was deathly quiet, the town utterly paralyzed by the rumors of the attack and the presence of the guards.
As they walked down the wooden boardwalks toward the northern edge of the town, Aerion briefly closed his golden eyes, completely tuning out the ambient noise of the swamp.
He engaged his map interface.
It was time to harvest the massive, lucrative systemic rewards of his battle against Laelette and his manipulation of the court. The golden text materialized brilliantly in his peripheral vision, detailing the explosive growth of his matrices.
[One Handed Leveled Up 9 Times! Current Level: MAX Level]
Aerion felt a subtle, profound sharpening of his muscle memory. The flawless parries and precise, crippling strikes he had executed against the vampire had pushed his blademaster proficiency into the absolute stratosphere of mortal capability.
[Restoration (Purify) Leveled Up 15 Times! Current Level: 71]
The sheer, devastating effectiveness of unleashing Grand Purification against an undead target had caused a massive spike in his holy magical reserves.
[Illusion Leveled Up 8 Times! Current Level: 50]
Overpowering the inherent mental resistances of a feral vampire with a Calm spell had significantly broadened his understanding of psychological manipulation.
But it was the next notification that brought a true, genuine thrill of satisfaction to his Gamer heart.
[Destruction (Frost) Leveled Up 6 Times! Current Level: MAX LEVEL!]
A cold, absolute, terrifying stillness washed over his entire cellular structure. He didn't just understand frost magic anymore; he was a walking, breathing avatar of absolute zero. He could feel the latent moisture in the freezing fog swirling around him, completely subservient to his will. If he desired it, he could flash freeze the entire swamp of Hjaalmarch into a solid block of glacial ice with a single gesture.
[LEVEL UP! You are now Level 111!]
[You have gained 2 Attribute Points! Current Unspent Points: 2]
Aerion did not hesitate. His Magicka reserves were already monstrous, and his Health was heavily fortified. But entering a massive, multi stage subterranean dungeon crawl against incredibly fast, highly physical opponents required absolute, unyielding endurance. He needed to be able to sprint, dodge, and swing the Black Prism for hours without tiring.
He mentally funneled both points directly into his stamina.
[Attribute Point Allocated: Stamina (+10)]
[Attribute Point Allocated: Stamina (+10)]
[Current Stamina: 450 / 450]
[Inventory Weight Limit Increased by 10 KG. Current Max Weight: 525 KG]
A deep, fortifying rush of pure, kinetic energy exploded through his muscles, entirely washing away the lingering fatigue of the carriage ride and the previous battles. He felt as though he could sprint to Solitude and back without breaking a sweat.
He opened his eyes, dismissing the glowing text as they reached the edge of the town.
They crossed the sturdy stone bridge that spanned the dark, slow moving waters of the river delta, approaching the heavy wooden palisades of the north gate. The Morthal guards stationed at the gatehouse saw Gorm approaching in the fog and immediately leaped to the heavy iron winches, hauling the wooden gates open without a single question.
They stepped out of the fortified safety of Morthal and into the true, untamed wilderness of the swamps.
The environment was horrific. The ground was soft, sucking mud that threatened to pull their boots off with every step. Twisted, dead pine trees loomed like skeletal fingers in the thick, clinging white fog. The faint, bioluminescent glow of Deathbell flowers and Swamp Fungal Pods provided the only ambient light, casting an eerie, sickly green hue across the marsh.
Aerion pulled up his digital system map in his mind's eye. The glowing topographical projection, combined with the detailed geographical directions he had memorized from Alva's journal, provided a flawless, internal compass.
"Stay close, and step exactly where I step," Aerion commanded softly, taking the absolute vanguard position. "The mud here is treacherous, and the fog easily hides the sinkholes."
They marched in complete silence for nearly thirty agonizing minutes, navigating the twisting, half submerged paths of the swamp. Lupin trotted effortlessly over the soft moss, his light weight preventing him from sinking, while the heavily armored Gorm swore under his breath every time his steel boots sank ankle deep into the muck.
Finally, the soft, squelching mud began to give way to solid, rising rock. The fog thinned slightly as they approached the base of a jagged, towering stone ridge.
Aerion raised his hand, dropping instantly into a low crouch. Jenassa, Aeloria, and Gorm immediately followed suit, pressing themselves tightly against a cluster of massive, moss-covered boulders and thick, thorny bushes.
"There," Aerion whispered, pointing a long finger through a gap in the brush.
Situated at the base of the dark rock face was a massive, gaping, pitch black cavern entrance.
It was unmistakably Movarth's Lair.
What immediately caught their attention, however, was not the cave itself, but the undeniable, glaring sign of organized occupation. Planted firmly on either side of the dark entrance were two heavy wooden poles, topped with iron cages holding fiercely burning, well maintained torches. The flickering orange light illuminated the jagged teeth of the cavern mouth.
Gorm peered over the edge of the boulder, his thick brow furrowing in deep, profound confusion.
"By the blood of Kyne," Gorm whispered, his voice tight. "I know this cave. My men patrol this northern ridge every single week. It's supposed to be completely abandoned. The reports have consistently stated there's been absolutely zero activity here for months. Why in Oblivion are there fresh torches burning at the entrance?"
Aerion didn't look at the Housecarl. His golden eyes remained locked on the flickering light of the cave.
"Because Movarth is a genius, Gorm," Aerion explained, his voice a chilling, analytical whisper. "If his coven simply slaughtered every Morthal guard that happened to wander past the cave on patrol, the Jarl would immediately notice the missing men and send the army to investigate. He couldn't afford to raise an alarm while Alva was still priming the town."
Aerion turned his head slightly, locking eyes with the horrified Nord.
"He didn't kill your patrols, Housecarl," Aerion stated coldly. "He simply captured them, used his overwhelming mastery of Illusion magic to completely wipe their memories of the torches and the activity, and sent them back to Morthal in a daze to file false reports. Your men have been looking directly at a vampire stronghold for months and simply forgetting it existed."
Gorm's face went entirely pale. The sheer, terrifying implications of having his own soldiers mentally compromised and utilized as unwitting pawns sent a cold, sickening shudder down his spine. The enemy was vastly more competent than he had ever feared.
"Gods above," Gorm breathed, gripping his battleaxe so tightly his knuckles popped. He looked back at the towering High Elf, entirely yielding tactical authority to the mage. "Seeing that the entrance is openly fortified and likely heavily guarded from the inside... how do you wish to proceed, Aerion? Do we breach now?"
Aerion looked at the cave, calculating the variables.
His Stamina and Magicka were completely full, but the biological realities of his mortal companions could not be ignored. Aeloria had been fighting, training, and traveling for two straight days. Jenassa was operating on minimum rest.
Entering a massive, highly populated dungeon crawl in the dead of night, when the vampires were at their absolute peak strength and vigilance, was tactically negligent.
"We do not breach tonight," Aerion decided firmly, shaking his head. "To attack an awakened, fully energized coven of vampires in the pitch black darkness of their own lair is strategic suicide. Furthermore, my associates and I require a brief period of absolute rest to ensure our reflexes are flawless for the coming slaughter."
He turned away from the cave, signaling the retreat.
"We return to the Moorside Inn immediately," Aerion commanded. "We will rest for the remainder of the night. Tomorrow morning, when the sun is high in the sky and the vampires are driven into deep, sluggish slumber, we will return. And we will butcher them."
Gorm nodded in complete, relieved agreement. The logic was unassailable.
The group carefully backed away from the boulders, maintaining absolute silence until they were completely swallowed by the thick, freezing fog of the swamp. They retraced their steps with practiced speed, the distant, flickering light of the vampire torches slowly fading into the gloom behind them.
They marched back to the fortified gates of Morthal, entering the quiet, sleeping town.
Gorm separated from the group near Highmoon Hall, swearing to rally the most disciplined veterans of the town guard for the morning perimeter. Aerion, Jenassa, and Aeloria continued back to the Moorside Inn.
The taproom was completely empty save for Jonna, who was dozing quietly behind the counter. Aerion didn't wake her. The trio ascended the wooden stairs in silence, utilizing the three heavy brass keys to unlock their respective private rooms.
Aerion stepped into his small, rustic room. Lupin immediately hopped up onto the center of the simple, straw stuffed mattress, curling into a tight, red ball of fur.
Aerion removed his heavy outer robes and his boots. The physical exhaustion of the day finally registered, a dull, heavy ache settling into his bones despite his massive Stamina pool. He lay down upon the bed, closing his golden eyes.
He didn't need to review his plans. The trap was set. The dungeon was waiting. He simply let the darkness take him, falling into a deep, dreamless, perfectly restorative sleep.
The next morning, the sun struggled to pierce the thick, eternal fog of Morthal, casting a weak, gray, diffuse light through the wooden shutters of the inn.
Aerion awoke feeling completely revitalized. He washed his face with the freezing water in the ceramic basin, donned his immaculate dark robes, and strapped the Black Prism securely to his hip.
He descended the stairs to the taproom. Jenassa and Aeloria were already seated at their table near the hearth, their weapons sharpened and their armor meticulously adjusted. Lupin was sitting by Jenassa's boots, begging shamelessly for a piece of dried meat.
"Good morning," Aerion greeted smoothly, taking a seat at the head of the table.
Jonna the innkeeper quickly scurried over, looking slightly nervous given the rumors of the previous night's chaos.
"Breakfast, Elf?" Jonna asked politely.
"Three plates of whatever fresh meats and roasted root vegetables you possess, and a bowl of fresh milk for the fox," Aerion ordered smoothly.
They ate quickly and efficiently, consuming the heavy calories required for the coming battle. Aerion didn't bother pulling supplies from his digital void, they needed hot food.
When they finished, Aerion goes to his satchel to his inventory, pulling a small stack of golden coins into his palm.
He placed the gold on the table, covering the cost of the breakfast.
[Septims Deducted: 35. Current Septims: 77,093]
"It is time," Aerion announced, standing up from the table.
They exited the Moorside Inn, stepping out into the cold, damp morning air of the swamp town.
They did not have to walk far.
Standing in the large, packed dirt clearing before the northern gates was an incredibly imposing sight. Housecarl Gorm had kept his word. He was not alone.
Arrayed in two perfectly disciplined, rigid lines behind the massive Nord were more than fifteen heavily armored soldiers of the Morthal town guard.
They were fully equipped for a monster hunt, clad in thick, padded green armor, carrying heavy steel shields, broadswords, and several holding sturdy wooden crossbows loaded with silver tipped bolts. The grim, terrified, but absolutely resolute expressions on their faces proved they had been fully briefed on the nature of the enemy.
Aerion approached the formation, his towering frame projecting an aura of absolute, commanding battlefield authority.
"Good morning, Housecarl," Aerion greeted smoothly, his golden eyes sweeping approvingly over the assembled militia. "I see you have rallied the finest steel in Hjaalmarch."
Gorm offered a crisp, heavy salute, his battleaxe resting against his shoulder. "They know the stakes, Aerion. If Movarth escapes, our families bleed. They are ready to hold the line."
"Excellent. Then let us march," Aerion commanded.
The heavily armed procession marched out of the northern gates, a long, intimidating column of steel and green tabards cutting through the freezing fog.
The journey to the cave was significantly faster in the daylight, though the environment remained bleak and oppressive. When they finally reached the base of the jagged stone ridge, the two torches burning outside the cavern entrance looked incredibly weak and pathetic in the gray morning light.
Aerion halted the column a hundred yards from the entrance, well out of earshot of the dark cave.
He turned to face the fifteen guards, assuming absolute, unquestioned command of the operation.
"Listen to me, and listen well," Aerion's melodic voice rang with chilling, military precision, carrying over the ranks. "Your orders are to establish a heavy, overlapping perimeter. Spread out into the tree line in groups of no less than two. Keep your crossbows loaded, and your shields raised."
He locked eyes with several of the younger, more nervous guards, impressing the sheer, terrifying reality of the threat upon them.
"Keep your eyes peeled on the shadows," Aerion warned gravely. "Do not assume that because the sun is in the sky, you are safe. While it is true that sunlight weakens their regenerative capabilities and suppresses their magicka, they are still vampires. A cornered, desperate blood drinker fleeing into the daylight still possesses the raw physical strength to rip a grown man's head entirely off his shoulders, and the speed to dodge a loose arrow. Do not engage them in single combat. If a vampire breaches the cave mouth, you focus fire, you hold the shield wall, and you pin them down with silver."
Aerion paused, letting the heavy, terrifying tactical reality sink in. "My associates and I will now enter the dark," Aerion announced, turning away from the militia and facing the yawning, pitch black mouth of Movarth's Lair. "Ensure nothing leaves it alive."
_____________________________
[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 440/440 Stamina: 450/450 Magicka: 620/620
Level: 109 ➝ 111
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+2)/Lightning(+1)/Frost) (Level 85/41/MAX), Restoration (Healing/Purify(+1)) (Level 91/71), Alteration (Level 35), Alteration (Level 20), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/10), Persuasion(+1) (Level 60), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 48), One Handed (MAX Level), 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 / 525 KG
Septims: 77,093