If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
...
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
As he rose from his bow, Aerion's transmigrator heart swelled with absolute, unadulterated victory. The tactical, political, and systemic rewards of the expedition were completely secured. He was now the Thane of a major hold, possessing a fortune in gold, an Daedric artifact, and an group of devoted allies.
Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone sat back upon her carved wooden throne, her sharp, mystic eyes studying the towering High Elf with a look of profound, pragmatic Nordic wisdom. She had just bestowed the highest honor of her hold upon an outlander, but she was not a naive woman. She knew that power often bred arrogance.
She offered a slow, deliberate nod of her head, a tight, pragmatic smile touching her lined face.
"I will hold you to those words, Thane Aerion," Idgrod stated, her voice carrying the absolute, uncompromising weight of the law. "You have proven yourself a hero tonight, and I trust you. But know this, if you ever go against the vows you have just sworn, if you abuse your title, harm my citizens, or bring dishonor to this court, I will not hesitate. I will strip you of your rank, and I will place a bounty on your head so large that not a single mercenary in Tamriel will be able to resist hunting you down."
It was a blunt, ruthless threat, delivered with absolute political clarity.
Aerion did not bristle at the warning. He understood the mechanics of feudal rulership perfectly. He placed a hand gracefully over his heart, offering a smooth, unbothered nod.
"I would expect absolutely nothing less from a ruler who truly cares for her people," Aerion replied, his melodic voice projecting flawless sincerity. "You have my solemn word, Jarl Idgrod. I shall adhere to the laws of this land. You have no need to worry."
Idgrod's smile widened a fraction of an inch, satisfied with his total lack of arrogance. She turned her head, looking at her husband standing nearby.
"Aslfur," Idgrod commanded softly. "Go into my private quarters. Fetch the item we prepared. A newly appointed Thane of Morthal cannot leave this hall empty handed."
Aslfur offered a crisp nod and immediately turned, quickly climbing the wooden stairs that led to the Jarl's personal chambers.
The Great Hall fell into a comfortable, expectant silence. Aeloria shifted her weight, the heavy steel plates of her newly acquired armor clanking softly in the quiet room. Jenassa stood like a statue, her crimson eyes resting passively on the roaring hearth fire.
A few moments later, the heavy wooden door at the top of the stairs creaked open. Aslfur descended the steps, holding a massive, incredibly intimidating weapon in both of his hands.
It was a heavy Steel Battleaxe, forged with brutal, utilitarian Nordic efficiency. However, this was no ordinary lumberjack's tool. Etched deeply into the polished steel of the massive double bitted head were intricate, glowing red arcane runes. The sheer ambient heat radiating from the enchantment was palpable even from several feet away, causing the air around the razor sharp edges to shimmer and distort.
Aslfur walked over and carefully handed the heavy weapon to his wife.
Jarl Idgrod took the battleaxe, resting the thick, leather wrapped haft against the stone floorboards with a heavy, satisfying thud. She looked up at Aerion.
"This weapon was forged specifically under my direct request by the finest smiths in the hold," Idgrod announced, her voice echoing in the hall. "The enchantment woven into the steel is a highly potent, volatile fire matrix. Its strikes will incinerate the flesh of your enemies as surely as it cuts bone."
She lifted the heavy weapon slightly, extending the haft toward the High Elf.
"This is the Axe of Morthal," Idgrod decreed formally. "I bestow it upon you, Thane Aerion, as a symbol of your office and your victory in the dark. Use it well to defend this hold."
A highly amused, dry smirk suddenly touched the old woman's lips.
"Or, at the very least," Idgrod added, her tone shifting to dry, Nordic banter, "find a sturdy iron mount and put it up well on your wall. Considering you are a master mage who conjures apocalyptic fire from his bare hands, I highly doubt you will be swinging this heavy chunk of steel very often."
Aerion let out a rich, melodic chuckle, stepping forward and grasping the leather wrapped haft.
"Your assessment is entirely accurate, my Jarl," Aerion smiled, easily taking the massive weight of the battleaxe with a single hand. "I am entirely capable of wielding such a weapon, but as you noted, my primary focus remains strictly upon the arcane arts. Steel is merely a secondary consideration for me."
He smoothly pivoted on his heel, turning away from the throne and facing his own strike team. His golden eyes locked onto the Dragonborn.
"Which is exactly why," Aerion continued, his voice projecting a tone of absolute, generous command, "I shall lend this magnificent weapon to Aeloria."
He extended the blazing Steel Battleaxe toward her.
"You are a warrior who relies heavily on your momentum, and you are currently in desperate need of a proper weapon to match your new armor," Aerion reasoned logically. "The Imperial sword at your hip is entirely insufficient for the threats we will face. This axe will prove vastly superior in your hands."
Aeloria's bright blue eyes widened to the absolute size of gold coins.
She stared at the massive, rune etched battleaxe. For a fiercely physical Nord warrior, being handed a masterwork, heavily enchanted two handed weapon was the absolute pinnacle of martial joy.
"Aerion... really?" Aeloria breathed, her voice trembling with sheer, unadulterated excitement. She hesitated, looking past the High Elf toward the throne. "But... it is the symbol of your office. Can I truly use it?"
Jarl Idgrod simply waved a dismissive hand, settling back into her furs. "It is his property now, child. It is entirely up to Thane Aerion how he wishes to utilize the gifts of this court. If he wishes his vanguard to wield it, then so be it."
Aerion offered an encouraging nod, pushing the haft closer. "Take it, Aeloria. It will serve you flawlessly on the road ahead."
Aeloria did not hesitate a second longer. She reached out with her heavy steel gauntlets, grasping the leather haft. As she took the weapon, she instantly felt the perfect, brutal balance of the heavy steel head, and the intense, searing warmth of the fire enchantment thrumming through the metal.
She swung the massive axe in a slow, experimental, horizontal arc. The red runes flared brightly, leaving a faint, shimmering trail of heat in the air.
A massive, incredibly jovial grin split across her face. Encased in shining Steel Plate armor and wielding a blazing battleaxe, the Dragonborn finally looked the part of an unstoppable, mythological juggernaut.
"By the Eight, it is magnificent," Aeloria laughed, her eyes shining with fierce gratitude as she looked at the High Elf. "Thank you for your trust, Aerion. I swear to you, I will maintain this blade perfectly, and I will baptize it in combat at the very first opportunity."
"See that you do," Aerion smiled approvingly.
With the spoils of their political victory secured, Aerion turned back to the throne, his posture shifting back to formal diplomacy.
"Jarl Idgrod, I must respectfully ask if our business in this court is concluded for the evening," Aerion requested smoothly. "The battle in the dark was deeply taxing. My associates and I would like to return to the Moorside Inn to properly rest and recover."
He paused, gesturing vaguely toward the northern walls of the hall.
"Furthermore, we must depart on the morrow," Aerion revealed. "We are currently on a vital expedition, and Morthal was merely a waypoint on our journey. We must continue our trek north, toward our primary objective in the frozen marshes."
Idgrod's brow furrowed slightly at the news of his imminent departure, but she offered an understanding nod.
"You may go, Thane Aerion," Idgrod granted. "As a Thane of this hold, you do not possess the mundane obligations of a standard guardsman. You are not required to reside fully within the walls of Morthal. You are free to travel Skyrim as you see fit."
Her expression hardened slightly, reminding him of the tether.
"But remember your oath," Idgrod commanded. "When the shadows grow long, and I, or the people of Hjaalmarch, have desperate need of your services, I will send word. When you are called upon, you must return and fulfill your obligations to this court."
"I promise to do exactly that, my Jarl," Aerion bowed deeply. "May the Divines watch over Highmoon Hall."
With the final pleasantries concluded, Aerion, Jenassa, and Aeloria turned and marched out of the Great Hall, leaving Jarl Idgrod, Aslfur, and Gorm to handle the massive bureaucratic fallout of cleaning up the remnants of Alva's treason.
They stepped out into the freezing, foggy streets. The atmosphere in Morthal had drastically shifted. The suffocating tension of the previous night was gone, replaced by a quiet, profound sense of safety. The guards patrolling the boardwalks offered deep, incredibly respectful salutes as the High Elf passed.
They walked directly to the Moorside Inn.
Jonna the innkeeper, having heard the news of their victory, practically tripped over herself to offer them the best service the establishment could provide. They sat at their usual table near the roaring hearth, consuming a massive, restorative dinner of roasted pheasant, thick vegetable stew, and warm spiced wine. Lupin happily devoured a large bowl of fresh chopped venison by Aerion's boots.
When the meal was concluded, Aerion accessed his spatial inventory, seamlessly pulling the exact coinage required to settle their tab into his palm.
He placed 34 seotims on the counter, and the weary strike team finally retired to their rented rooms.
Aerion stripped off his dark robes, collapsing onto the simple straw mattress. The sheer, overwhelming mental processing required to coordinate the apocalyptic Fire Storms, rewrite magical targeting parameters, and manage the political landscape of a Jarl's court had completely exhausted his transmigrator mind. He fell into a deep, dreamless void the moment his head hit the pillow.
The next morning, the freezing, oppressive fog of the Hjaalmarch swamps had thinned slightly, revealing a pale, overcast sky.
Aerion awoke early, his massive Stamina pool ensuring his body was completely revitalized. He dressed swiftly, ensuring the Black Prism was secured at his hip, and descended to the taproom. Jenassa and Aeloria were already waiting, their weapons polished and ready for the road.
They did not linger in Morthal. They exited the inn, stepping out into the cold morning air, and immediately turned their boots toward the northern gates.
They crossed the sturdy stone bridge that spanned the dark waters of the river delta, leaving the fortified safety of the capital behind them, and plunged back into the treacherous, muddy wilderness of the swamps.
Aerion took the lead, mentally projecting his digital system map over his vision.
The route was incredibly straightforward, but environmentally miserable. They retraced their exact steps from the previous day, navigating the sucking mud and twisted pine trees until they once again passed the dark, silent maw of Movarth's Lair.
The two torches outside the cavern had completely burned out, leaving only blackened, smoking wood. A heavy, profound silence hung over the stone ridge, a stark contrast to the apocalyptic violence that had occurred within its depths just twenty four hours prior.
Aerion did not stop to admire his handiwork. He simply checked his compass and continued marching north, leading his strike team deeper into the wilds.
'We are heading directly for Ustengrav,,' Aerion thought, his golden eyes scanning the horizon.
He glanced back at Aeloria. The Dragonborn was marching with a fierce, eager spring in her step, the heavy Steel Plate armor clanking rhythmically. She occasionally ran her gauntleted hand over the leather haft of the Axe of Morthal strapped securely to her broad back, completely thrilled by her martial upgrades.
Aerion knew, with absolute certainty, that Aeloria still firmly believed they were marching toward Bleak Falls Barrow. He had deliberately allowed the geographical deception to persist.
'Let her think whatever she wants for now,' Aerion reasoned pragmatically. 'The objective remains the same, secure an ancient Nordic artifact. When we pull the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller from the depths instead of a Dragonstone, I will simply fabricate a narrative about the shifting nature of ancient prophecies. The trust is absolute, she will not question the pivot.'
As they pressed further north, the geography of the hold began to drastically shift.
The soft, sucking mud and stagnant, murky waters of the Hjaalmarch swamps slowly gave way to solid, frozen earth and jagged, towering peaks of gray stone. The temperature plummeted significantly, the damp air instantly turning crisp and biting. Small, drifting flurries of pristine white snow began to fall from the overcast sky, lightly dusting the shoulders of their armor.
They were approaching the northern coast of the province, nearing the borders of Haafingar and the Sea of Ghosts.
"We are close," Aerion murmured, his breath pluming in the freezing air.
He led them up a steep, snow covered embankment, navigating around a massive, natural stone archway. As they crested the ridge, the ground suddenly dropped away before them, revealing a massive, incredibly deep, naturally formed sinkhole carved into the frozen earth.
Nestled at the absolute bottom of the sprawling sinkhole, partially swallowed by centuries of dirt and heavy snowfall, were the ancient, imposing, monolithic stone ruins of Ustengrav.
Aerion immediately raised his left hand, forming a tight fist.
"Halt. Drop low," Aerion commanded sharply, his voice barely a whisper.
Jenassa and Aeloria instantly obeyed, dropping into a low crouch behind a thick cluster of snow-covered boulders resting at the lip of the sinkhole. Lupin pressed his small red body flat against the freezing earth.
Aerion peered over the edge of the granite boulder, his highly analytical eyes scanning the exterior perimeter of the ancient ruins below.
The entrance to Ustengrav was not abandoned. It was heavily fortified.
"We have hostiles," Aerion whispered, conducting a rapid, tactical assessment of the sunken valley.
Scattered among the crumbling stone pillars and half buried archways were nearly a dozen armed figures. However, what immediately caught Aerion's attention was the bizarre, highly volatile composition of the enemy camp.
It was a deeply uneasy alliance of raw muscle and dark magic.
Several of the figures were heavily armored, rugged bandits wearing thick fur and iron armor, carrying heavy battleaxes and crude bows. But mingling among the common thugs were at least five individuals wearing long, flowing black robes with deep hoods obscuring their faces.
"A mercenary excavation crew," Jenassa deduced coldly, her crimson eyes tracking the patrols. "Rogue mages hiring cheap bandit muscle to secure the perimeter while they plunder the crypt for ancient artifacts or knowledges."
Aerion nodded in agreement, his Gamer mind easily identifying the specific classes of the black robed mages based on the ambient, glowing energy swirling around their hands.
"Do not underestimate the robed figures," Aerion warned his team, pointing out specific targets in the valley below. "The one standing near the central pillar, generating the purple sparks? That is a Conjurer. If we give him time, he will rip open the void and summon a Frost Atronach, or raise the dead skeletons buried in the snow to fight us. The two near the cavern entrance, playing with the orange flames, are Destruction mages. They are the primary artillery."
He shifted his gaze to a final, slightly more armored mage standing near a pile of supplies.
"And the one in the back, projecting the faint golden aura, is a Restoration mage," Aerion concluded. "He will continually heal the bandits and maintain magical wards over their frontline. He is the absolute priority target. We break the healer, the frontline crumbles."
Aeloria's eyes burned with fierce, eager anticipation. She didn't care about the tactical nuances of rogue mage factions; she only saw enemies standing between her and her objective.
She reached over her shoulder, her gauntlets gripping the leather haft of the Axe of Morthal. With a smooth, metallic ring, she drew the massive Steel Battleaxe. The red arcane runes etched into the steel instantly flared to life, casting a shimmering, intense wave of heat that melted the snowflakes falling around her.
"Just give the word, Aerion," Aeloria whispered, a feral, joyous grin spreading across her face. "I want to see what this axe can do to bandit iron."
Jenassa did not speak. The Dark Elf assassin simply unslung her heavy Dwarven Bow. With smooth, practiced lethality, she nocked a thick steel arrow. The intricate, glowing orange runes of the fire enchantment hummed softly on the heavy metal limbs of the bow. She drew the string back to her cheek, aiming directly down the sights at the skull of the Conjuration mage.
Aerion remained crouched, engaging his massive Magicka reserves.
He didn't draw a sword. This was an open field engagement, magic was the supreme equalizer.
He raised his right hand, channeling the violent, crackling energy of a Chain Lightning spell. Brilliant, branching arcs of purple electricity began to dance violently between his fingertips, eager to find a grounded target. In his left hand, he condensed the freezing, absolute zero moisture of the snowy air, preparing a massive, swirling sphere of Ice Storm.
"We execute a total, overwhelming exterior purge," Aerion commanded softly, his golden eyes locked onto the camp below. "Do not let the mages establish their wards. Shock and awe."
He took a deep, steadying breath, his voice dropping to a low, rhythmic countdown.
"Three."
Jenassa adjusted her aim, tracking the slow patrol of the Conjurer.
"Two."
Aeloria tightened her grip on the blazing battleaxe, her powerful leg muscles coiling like steel springs in the snow.
"One."
Aerion's golden eyes flared with absolute, lethal intent.
"Execute!"
The ambush exploded with terrifying, deafening suddenness.
THWIP BOOM!
Jenassa fired first. The heavy steel arrow tore through the falling snow with impossible velocity. It struck the black-robed Conjurer perfectly in the side of his neck before he could even register the sound of the bowstring. The Dwarven fire enchantment detonated violently upon impact, blowing the rogue mage completely off his feet in a spray of fire and blood, instantly neutralizing the summoning threat.
"We're under attack!" a bandit screamed, raising his iron shield and desperately looking up toward the ridge.
He didn't have time to find his attackers.
Aerion stepped out from behind the boulder, thrusting both of his hands forward simultaneously.
"Burn and freeze!" Aerion roared.
From his right hand, the Chain Lightning erupted. A massive, blindingly bright bolt of purple electricity arced down into the sinkhole. It slammed directly into the chest of a heavily armored bandit. But the magic didn't stop there.
True to its name, the violent electrical current instantly chained outward, arcing across the damp snow to strike the two Destruction mages standing nearby, violently electrocuting their nervous systems and interrupting their casting animations.
From his left hand, the Ice Storm descended. A massive, swirling, horizontal tornado of jagged ice shards and absolute zero wind swept across the center of the camp. The sheer kinetic force of the magical blizzard threw the remaining bandits to the ground, freezing their armor solid and drastically reducing their movement speed.
The rogue mages and bandits were completely disoriented, blinded by lightning, battered by ice, and deafened by the explosions.
Then, the true terror descended upon them.
"For Skyrim!" Aeloria bellowed, a terrifying, guttural battle cry that echoed off the ancient stone pillars.
The Dragonborn didn't climb down the rocks. She simply leaped directly off the high stone ridge, her heavy Steel Plate armor crashing down into the snowy sinkhole like a falling meteor.
She landed in a deep crouch, instantly absorbing the impact, and exploded forward.
A surviving bandit, half frozen by the Ice Storm, desperately swung a crude iron battleaxe toward her head. Aeloria didn't even bother parrying. She ducked smoothly beneath the wild swing, planting her heavy boots in the snow, and swung the Axe of Morthal in a massive, devastating, upward diagonal cleave.
_____________________________
[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 460/460 Stamina: 480/480 Magicka: 670/670
Level: 121
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 MAX/41/MAX), Restoration (Healing/Purify(+1)) (Level MAX/MAX), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/26), Persuasion(+1) (Level 60), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level 75), One Handed(+1) (Level 42), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 66), Light Armor (Level 77), 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, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Reanimate Corpse Tome, Staff of Lightning, Deed to Tundra Homestead, Sapphire, Ruby, Dawnbreaker, Traveling Backpack (Supplies), Potion of Minor Magicka, Vampire Armor, Vampire Boots, Movarth's Golden Ash (Unique), Dwarven Sword, & Hide Boots Of Sneak
2x Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), Elven Sword, & Amethysts
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, Common Soul Gem (Filled), Flawless Sapphires, Gold Necklace, & Iron Necklace
4x Spider Eggs & Garnets
5x Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
7x Vampires Dust
8x Iron Arrows, Ancient Nord Arrows, & Black Soul Gems (Filled)
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
Weight: 77.60 KG / 540 KG
Septims: 78,654